Disclaimers:  I don't own this concept of immortality.  I don't own any characters from Highlander: the Series, or even the ones from the movies.  Most of these, however, are mine.
Rated:  R for ongoing insanity, m/m relationships, and only slightly vague m/m sex.  Many thanks to Alice in Stonyland, tarsh, tansy, and diane for beta-reading this and making me do it right.
Note well:  Despite my tardiness in posting it, this takes place between Poaching and Sirocco.  And, unfortunately, if you haven't read any of the Aidan stories, it won't make any sense at all.  I am sorry about that!

'Oops!' Is A Four-letter Word

"Logan residence."  Marc accidentally hit the wrong mouse button as he answered the phone, then scrabbled to hit 'stop' on the browser fast enough.  The end result made him mutter a few Italian phrases under his breath which would have had his mother reaching for the soap.

"Actually," the amused voice on the other end of the line said pleasantly, "I agree with you completely.  Marc, isn't it?"

"Yeah, who is -- oh, hey, Xan!"  The tall black immortal leaned back in the computer chair, all thoughts of tracking down a quote abandoned in favor of a chat with one of his new relatives.  "Sorry about that, web problems.  How are you, uncle?"

"Startled, verging on shocked," Xan told him pleasantly, "and heading rapidly towards annoyed.  Where's your teacher?  We'd like to talk to her."

Another voice interrupted, saying, "No, no, Xan, hold on.  Don't go anywhere, Marc.  You'll do nicely to ask."

Marc flinched when he heard Alex's comment.  That sweetly reasonable tone reminded him of his mother when she was getting ready to launch into a lecture.  "Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Now, look, uncles," and he held up one long-fingered hand to ward them off, forgetting for the moment that they were in Sacramento and he was in Seacouver.  "I don't care what it is, or what you're annoyed about, I am not young enough or stupid enough to get between you two and Teach."

"You're there; we're here.  What are you worried about?" Xan asked him, deliberately trying to sound harmless.

"Uh-uh, I'm not crazy enough to fall for that, either.  I'll go get Teach, thanks."  Marc swiftly put the call on hold before they could talk him into anything.

He walked hastily down the spiral staircase, cut across the practice floor to the stairwell, and headed down two more flights to the first floor.  "I will be so damn glad when Jay and Neil get here next week," he muttered as he took the steps two at a time.  "We really need to install that intercom system between the floors."

Aidan was pacing along the bookshelf as he walked out the fire door and into her office.  One finger still trailing along the book titles to hold her place, she glanced up at him, grey eyes surprised under dark brows. "I thought you were hunting down that thrice-damned motto?"

"Alex and Xan are on the phone.  They sound kind of irritated, Teach."  He looked over at her, amber eyes wide.  "Did you annoy them recently?"

"Not that I know of," Aidan replied, bemused.  She flipped her braid back over her shoulder.  "I only heard from them again last month, after all.  I can't imagine what's happened in the last few weeks....  Oh, well, let's see what the problem is.  I could always flee to Duncan's cabin, I suppose, before they could possibly get here."  She glanced at Marc, a quick smile flashing across her face.  "Do you want to listen in, or would you rather not know anything about it?"

"How about we don't admit I'm here?" he asked, grinning back and perching on the overstuffed footstool he usually stole when he was browsing for something out of her texts.

Aidan smiled agreement at him and threw the call to the speakerphone.  "Good afternoon, you two.  Is there some reason you decided to terrorize my student?"

Xan blithely retorted, "Oh, we were charitable to him.  You, on the other hand, are going to be apologizing for centuries, sister.  You might start right about now."

"Excuse me?" she asked in amusement.  "What, precisely, did I do this time?  Not that I'm apologizing yet, you understand."

"Alex, do you want to explain why we're -- what are we, anyway?  Irritated?"

"I'm verging on furious, myself."  Alex sounded almost serious and Aidan's smile faded.  "Admittedly, we lost touch for a few decades, but would it have hurt you to mention this sometime in the last month?"

The Irishwoman picked her words very carefully as she said, "Alexandrias, will you please tell me what I've done or not done so that I can start apologizing?"

"Oh, don't worry," Alex retorted.  "Didaskalos is getting this phone call next.  When, precisely, sister, were you going to mention to us that you'd started sleeping with immortals?"

"And why did we hear it from someone other than you?" Xan's voice grated with an anger he wasn't loosing yet.

Aidan hastily interrupted them.  "Brothers, wait, please.  Half a moment."  She hastily hit the hold on her phone, murmuring something that sounded to her student like it might be the Gaelic version of 'Oh, shit.'  Then she turned to look at Marc, who looked distinctly startled by the conversation.

"I think perhaps you should miss this.  I'm about to grovel.  A great deal.  But it's going to be in Greek and you might be bored."

But I don't want to miss this!  Marc gave her his best innocent look and said, "Well, if it's going to be that boring, yeah, but are you sure you don't want a referee?"

His teacher studied him from amused grey eyes.  "You're not really going to get into this, I know you better than that.  I must admit, though, I don't suppose I'd leave if my teacher were in this much trouble, either.  All right.  But this is going to be in Greek, trust me."  Aidan sighed, resigned, and said, "Ah, well, time to start bailing the water out of the boat."

She braced herself and hit the speaker button.

"-- it until we hang up and call back?" Alex was saying, irritated.  The sound of ice cubes settling back against glass punctuated his words.

"I'm here, brother, and why don't we do this in Greek?  Your curses have so much more flavor in your native tongue," she offered, settling down in an overstuffed Victorian chair and tucking her feet under her.  Marc grinned at the rueful smile twitching the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, your student's listening in?" Xan asked.  "No, sister, this can stay in English.  We'll even be vaguely discreet, if you're very lucky."  Aidan flinched at that.  "We're waiting."

"I seem to remember that Adam was going to explain it to you this summer," she answered evasively.  "Did you really think I was going to interfere with one of his plans?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Xan countered, and she could almost see him leaning towards the phone.  She suspected that those golden eyebrows had drawn down over his dark brown eyes; she'd seen Xan annoyed often enough before.  "Oh, no, Edana, you don't get to hide behind that.  He'll get his next.  But we specifically asked you about lovers--"

"Which Marc isn't," she retorted, one hand playing nervously with the end of her braid.  "And you were asking about him."

"Damn it, Edana, how in hell were we supposed to wish you well if you didn't bother to tell us this?  You've kept that vow of yours longer than we've been alive, sister.  A change like this wasn't important enough to mention to some of your favorite brothers?"

Alex did sound angry, she realized uneasily. Lovely.  I don't want his temper going up in flames.  And he does have a point.  "You're right, Alexandrias," she gave in.  "I should have told you."

"Oh, no, admitting you're wrong doesn't get you out of this," Xan snapped, but he sounded less irritated than he had.

"Although it's a good start," Alex added.  "Pass me the lemon, would you, Xan?  Now, then.  Which of them are you sleeping with?"

"Or is that how many?"  Xan chuckled wickedly.  "Since that seems to be in question, too."

"Beg pardon?" Aidan asked him, bemused.  "What, precisely, is the rumor making the rounds?"

"Oh, no, we're not giving up our sources.  Talk, woman.  Who?  Adam?  Duncan?  Connor?"

Xan cut in, saying thoughtfully, "You always did get along well with Constantine...."

"I'm not keeping a harem, Xenokrates," Aidan said indignantly.  "Who in the world have you been talking to?"

"You, actually," Alex remarked.  He sounded remarkably smug as he went on, "That was you who said that there were five of us in Seacouver, you and four men?"

"I never said I was--"

"And apparently you danced with everyone at that Christmas party we weren't invited to," Xan added thoughtfully.  "We'll have to have a chat with Connor about that.  Speaking of which, we'll expect to get his phone number from you later.  And I seem to remember a time when you damned well were keeping a harem:  three husbands and two wives, it was.  So--who, sister, and how long has this been going on?"

"Adam since last Midsummer's Day and Duncan since late August," she sighed, shaking her head in resignation.  "And both of them at once since Samhain."

"No wonder Didaskalos said the introductions this summer would be amusing," Xan growled.  "I'll have to think up something appropriate for him.  I wonder how he'd like it if he found out that he's enlisted in the French Foreign Legion?"

"Don't worry, Xenokrates," Alex purred.  "I'll take care of it."

Aidan looked up at that, eyes wide.  Oh, Gods, the last time he sounded like that, Damien and Ish stayed out of Greece for three years.  On the other hand, Methos got me into this; he can get himself back out, too.  She shrugged then, and abandoned her former teacher and current lover to his own fate.

"Good."  Xan chuckled.  "All right, now that we actually have that news from you, Edana, are you happy with them?"

"What do you think?" she responded, chuckling herself.  "How many times did you two try to tell me that experience was a lovely thing?"

"It took you long enough to listen to us.  It's good to hear you this happy, Edana."  Alex laughed softly.  "Duncan's safe from us, of course, since he didn't know us to need to call.  Adam is another matter, though.  Is he still there or back in Paris?"

"Paris," Aidan answered hesitantly.  "What are you two up to?"

"Just offering our congratulations," Alex told her, his voice far too innocent.  "A pleasure talking to you, Edana."

"Alex, I hadn't told anyone else, either," she pointed out ruefully, certain that life was about to get interesting.  "I didn't try to hide it at the party, but I haven't precisely been sending wedding invitations, brother."

"Yes, well, when you do, let us know, and we'll give you away."

"Of course, if you're marrying Adam, we'll promptly object," Xan gleefully admitted.  "I've always wanted to do that."

"Oh, Mother."  Aidan buried her face in her hands, torn between giggling and hiding.

Marc shook his head at her reaction and said, "Uncles, I think you made your point.  I'd appreciate it if she was coherent enough to go over those katas with me this afternoon, thanks."

"Nice not talking to you again, Marc."  Xan laughed and added, "And we'll see you this summer."

The slender black man grinned and said, "Yeah, I think so.  Talk to you two later."

"Probably sooner than you think, nephew," was Alex's only reply to that and the line went dead.

Aidan looked up at that and murmured, "Oh, dear."

Marc glanced at his teacher and said thoughtfully, "Teach?  That sounded really ominous."

"It did, didn't it?"  Aidan regarded her computer ruefully.  "And the current chapter was going so well, too.  So much for that, however.  Shall we head upstairs?  I think I'll start cooking."

Her student unfolded himself from the footstool obediently, although he was now thoroughly confused.  "Um, Aidan?  It's only three.  You still have time to get more work done."  Even as he watched, though, she saved her files and shut down the entire system.

The Irish woman snorted at that and turned to study him, grey eyes dancing with an amusement that didn't seem to match the regretful smile.  "No, not much else is going to get done today.  The phone will start ringing off the hook soon.  We might as well give up and handle it now.  Congratulations.  You have a vacation day I hadn't planned on."

Marc ran a hand through his hair, pushing the black spirals back from his face.  "Okay, they're gonna call Adam and give him hell, too, I take it?"

"Oh, yes," she agreed.  "And Lady only knows who else.  I'm not going to hear the end of this for easily a month."

"So what's the big deal, Aidan?  The way they're acting, you'd think you've been... well, I mean--"  He broke off, trying to find some polite way to put it.

"I haven't exactly been celibate the past few centuries, no," Aidan laughed as they got to the second floor and walked across her living quarters to the kitchen.  "It's because Adam and Duncan are the first immortal lovers I've taken."

"In...?"  Marc waited for the rest of that sentence and realized from his teacher's repressed laughter that there was no rest of the sentence.  "Oh.  Ever?"

"Ever," she confirmed, the chortles finally escaping.  "They're right, I really should have said something."

"Ever."  Marc sprawled into one of the kitchen chairs and studied Aidan, torn between amazement and astonishment.  "Why?  I mean, anyone can see you're in love with Adam and Duncan."

"I was an idiot, according to Joe," she told him cheerfully.  "But yes, after more than two thousand years of not sleeping with immortals, I really should have told them, I must admit."

Marc snickered.  "Two thousand years.  I hate to say this?  They may not be the only ones who think so."

"Exactly," Aidan agreed, grinning back at him.  "It's going to be a long afternoon."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Duncan laughed, a soft, husky sound that broke in the middle when he gasped.  Methos laughed too, then, and ran his thumb gently along Duncan's jaw and down his throat.  "Are you sure I can't convince you to come to bed, Highlander?"

"The movie's not that interesting," Duncan agreed, smiling back at him as he picked up the remote control and turned off the television.

The ringing phone startled both of them.  Methos frowned in irritation, Duncan in worry... but they looked more alike than they suspected.  On the third ring Methos finally picked the phone up, growling, "This had better be good--"

"That's not the word I'd have used," Xan said bluntly.  "Methos, if we traded you for a dog, we'd get something so flea-bitten and diseased, we'd have to shoot it."

"If you only called to insult me--" Methos started, only to be cut off by Alex.

"No, no, no, Xenokrates," his former student purred, and Methos stared at the phone, worried now and wondering what in hell had set them off.  "Don't do that.  That would be too easy.  Simple enough, Methos.  Come clean now and we might still let you off easy."

"Come clean about what?" Methos asked, genuinely surprised.  "What now?"

"Oh, well, if you're going to be that way about it," Alex answered and he was chuckling softly by the last word.  "Good talking to you, Didaskalos."

"Oh, no, you two reprobates," Methos growled.  "You called, and interrupted at a damned inconvenient time, too.  You are going to explain what the hell this is all about."

"The interruption, actually," Xan answered pleasantly.  "A vow older than we are, and a woman we would have happily dragged into bed centuries ago if she hadn't been in love with you for longer than we've known her, and you neglected to mention anything?"

"Or to tell us that both of you are sleeping with MacLeod?"  Alex was still amused by something, that dangerous pleasure that meant he was up to mischief.  Methos, however, was too angry to be wary.

"I'd have told you at Midsummer's, and since when do I have to tell you two who I'm sleeping with?  Or have you become her duenas and I missed the announcement?"

"Not good enough," Alex told him implacably.

Xan cut over them to say, "Methos, give up.  You're in the wrong and you know it, or you wouldn't be arguing.  We'll wish you well in a few days when we get over being angry at you."  He chuckled nastily.  "But, Didaskalos, just remember:  true hell is redundancy."

"What the--"  Methos cut himself off as the dial tone echoed in his ear.

Duncan stared at him.  Sometime during the call, the cheerful lechery in those dark brown eyes had faded into worry.  "Who was that?"

"Alex and Xan."  Methos continued to stare at the receiver in his hand, reviewing the conversation in his mind and wondering if it was too late to worry.  They had sounded thoroughly annoyed.  Worse yet, they had also sounded like they were plotting something.

"Your two students who called at Aidan's last month?  The ones she refers to as 'her favorite brothers' and you call those 'damn Greek maniacs?' "

"Yes, that Xan and Alex," Methos growled, still worrying.  "They found out about the three of us from somewhere and thought Edana or I should have mentioned something last month."

Duncan raised an eyebrow, but from the slow breath he took before he spoke, Methos suspected he was deliberately staying calm until he heard the full story.  "Should you have?"

"They were my students, Mac; they're not my keepers."  Methos glared at the phone.  "What in hell set this off?"

"Set what off?" Duncan asked patiently, trying to keep his irritation to himself.  No point in giving in to it when Methos was clearly already annoyed.  It had become an informal, unspoken agreement:  only one of them could be pissed off at any given point.

"Whatever the hell Alex is up to," Methos muttered, still rankled by the discussion.  "I know that tone of voice, damn it."

"So they called you to insult you over who you're sleeping with?"  Duncan looked at him oddly, torn between the arousal Methos had been deliberately cultivating and an equal desire to sort this out.  "I got the impression in February that they like Aidan."

"They do," Methos growled, fidgeting into a cross-legged position that made Duncan smile at memories of those long legs wrapped around him.

He stuck to the matter currently at hand, though.  "And I thought they were fond of you, too."

"They are."

"So what's the problem?" Duncan asked in the same deliberately reasonable voice.  Maybe, just maybe, they could get this settled in time for him to drag Methos into bed.  Duncan did have to get up early the next morning but he still had hopes of salvaging the evening.

Methos finally set the phone down rather than get the irritating digital reminder to hang up.  "No one told them Edana was sleeping with immortals."

"Are they jealous?"

Methos glanced up at him, frowning.  "No.  Well," he added more slowly, "not too much."

"Did they tell you who they heard it from?"

"No."  He was still frowning, obviously considering some plan to deal with this.

Duncan sighed, took the phone away from him, and dialed Aidan's number.  "If they're annoyed about something, Methos, you might try calling Aidan to find out what she knows, then.  Since she's the other person involved?"

That got an abrupt stare and Methos hung the phone up before it could ring through.  "No, Duncan," and he pulled his lover in for a quick, hard kiss intended to repay Duncan for his patience and to reassure him, too.  "Three of us are involved in the relationship.  Xan and Alex simply aren't angry at you.  At a guess, they don't think you owe them an explanation, since they aren't old friends of yours."

Duncan shrugged and settled in behind Methos on the couch, arms wrapping around him and his chin propped on the other man's shoulder.  "So call Aidan and warn her, if she hasn't already heard from them.  Then," he suggested throatily, "we can go back to what we were doing.  Unless you just want to watch this movie?"

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

The phone rang and Marc started laughing.  "Hate to say it?"  Aidan glanced over at her student as he went on, "I think that's for you."

She rolled her eyes, but reached for the phone anyway.  "Logan."  One eyebrow went up and she apparently had to wait for the person on the other end of the line to pause for breath.  When she did get a word in edgewise, Aidan said placidly, "Don't look at me.  I didn't tell them.  May I point out, also, that this mischief was your brainchild?"

Marc assumed it was Adam, and wondered what the caustic immortal was saying to her.  Then he grinned as she interrupted tartly, "I do hope that wasn't a complaint?  No, I didn't think so."

Aidan waited while Adam made some new protest, then answered, "Yes, I most assuredly do know what time it is over there.  More to the point, so do Alex and Xan.  I'm only taking part of the blame for this, muirnin.  As I recall, you were the one who said we could tell them at Midsummer."  She held the phone away from her ear, then laughed softly.  "He hung up.  Oh, my.  I wonder if he'll take the phone off the hook?"

"Why would he...?"  Marc let that trail off as he considered the mood Alex and Xan had been in.  "Oh.  Oh, shit.  You mean everyone's going to call both of you?"

"Probably," she agreed cheerfully, clearly amused by the whole thing.  "I don't have the heart to tell my brothers they're doing me a favor.  Now I can apologize to most of them at once.  Would you get a pad and pen for me, please?  I might as well make notes of who calls today so that I can contact the rest of them later."

Marc laughed and went to do just that.  Somehow, he suspected this was going to be vastly entertaining.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"Logan."

"Two of them?  You decided to go for one per millennia?  Or were you just making up for lost time?"  The woman's voice was all sharp edges, laughing and angry at the same time.  Marc glanced up from Candide and picked up his pen, tilting his head at his teacher in silent inquiry.

"Duathor, how are you?"

"I'm fine, the business is fine, let me know if you want to buy me out in a few years' time, Edana, and when did this start?"

"A few months ago," Aidan commented as she sliced more apples into the bowl of cinnamon and mace.  It was almost time, she gauged, to start filling the next level of the dehydrator.  "I'm glad you called, though, it gives me a chance to introduce you to your new brother.  Marc Scipio, Duathor Negra.  She's in Copenhagen, Marc.  What time is it, there, dearheart, one in the morning?  What are you doing awake?"

"Hello, Marc, welcome to the family.  It's just after one here.  And I'm still awake because the phone call broke up a very pleasant evening, and I promise you, my uncles are going to hear about that, at length... say, about eleven o'clock tonight."  From the gleeful tone of her voice, Alex and Xan were not going to be forgiven any time soon, but Duathor shifted quickly back to her main consideration.  "Edana, how in the world did you annoy the twins?"

Aidan shrugged, blissfully unconcerned that the other woman wouldn't be able to see it.  "I forgot to mention the so-minor detail of my new relationships when they called last month.  I hadn't talked to them in twenty years or so, mind you.  First they moved, and then I did.  I was rather out of touch in Syracuse, but I needed the time."

"Oh."  That sharp voice suddenly gentled.  "A bad one, then?"

"Very."  Aidan determinedly changed the subject, asking, "So, am I forgiven?"

"A new brother, for the first time in... Lady Bast, I haven't had a new brother since Navarro.  Well, you told me about young Wolf, but he died before I ever met him.  Of course you're forgiven, Edana.  However, if I had to be interrupted, so shall Matthias.  I'll call at a more civilized time later, brother, to talk longer.  For now, good night, the both of you."

The dial tone brought a grin to Marc's face.  "A little, um, abrupt, isn't she?"

"Very," Aidan told him, still smiling.  "Extremely quick in several ways.  Sparring with her is an interesting experience."

Marc considered his current level of skill with bastard sword, the bad habits he'd learned on katana, and just how good this sister must be if she was more than two hundred years old and still had her head.  "I'll wait," he answered dryly and bent his head over his book again.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"Logan residence," Marc said, grimacing at the thought of dealing with either a telemarketer or an annoyed sibling which seemed the two most likely options here.  Aidan was up to her wrists in bread dough, however, so he answered anyway.

The man's voice was ironic, a quick, crisp accent that reminded Marc of Alex.  "Well, I dialed the number Damien gave," came the ironic reply.  "Nice to know his memory hasn't completely deserted him along with his sense.  Is she there?"

"Can I tell her who's calling?" the young black man asked, but he kicked the call over to the speaker anyway.

"Her younger brother Jarunsuk.  And it's a damn good thing for her--"

"I'm here, brother," Aidan cut in calmly.  "How are you?"

"Just off work, and yes, I know it's late, but the markets were abysmal.  Don't ask me about your account today; talk to me in a month.  Now, who in hell are you sleeping with that Alexandrias is purring about it?"

Aidan paused to consider that.  "He didn't tell you?"

"No, and he wouldn't let Xan tell me, either.  I hate unsolved questions, sister, you know that."

"More to the point, so do they," she agreed, amused.  "And it's Aidan this year, or did they tell you that?"

"Of course they told me that much.  Dodge the subject one more time, Aidan, and I'll damn well drive up there from San Francisco.  You do not want me to do that, even if I do have the vacation time backed up.  Who, precisely, are you sleeping with this time?  I've known you to be involved with everything from a master forger to a lawyer.  What's going on?"

"Ah."  She muttered something under her breath, all consonants and gutturals, and Marc chuckled at her obvious chagrin.

"Shall I?" he inquired cheerfully.

"I thought you were staying out of this?" Aidan shot back.

"He's still on the line?"  Jarunsuk sounded startled now.

"Sorry, uncle," Marc told him without a trace of remorse.  "And how do you spell that name, anyway?  I need it for the list."

"List."  It took only a moment for Jarunsuk to catch that implication.  "Oh, they are furious, aren't they?  Edana, what happened?"

"I broke that vow and they found out about it from somewhere," Aidan confessed, torn between laughter and anger as she had been for much of the afternoon.  "Alex is taking it very personally.  He seems to have decided the rest of you should hear it from me.  Damn it," she added more softly.

"About time you took up with one of us," Jarunsuk growled, almost laughing himself.  "Did I never tell you I had a three-year fling with Ceirdwyn?  Extremely educational."

"Oh, I should think so!" Aidan choked out around chuckles.  "The woman studied with a Roman, for Bast's sweet sake!"  Then she saw the way Marc was flushing and laughed even harder.

"Uncle, will you please... never mind," Marc decided. "I think I'll go get that dictionary I needed, Teach."  The young Italian managed a dignified retreat before they could start discussing names and techniques, but whatever else Jarunsuk said convulsed Aidan with laughter again and he was more than glad to be out of hearing range for a while.  Half an hour should do it, and Aidan can just answer the phone herself on the next one!

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

By the fourth phone call, even Duncan's patience had frayed thin.  He moved upward in one smooth, uncoiling motion that settled him over Methos and wrapped his own body heat around his lover, then picked up the phone.  "MacLeod.  Who is it this time?"

After the briefest of pauses, he heard a familiar and very amused voice.  "I thought those two reprobates were up to something.  Sounds like you're in hot water, kinsman.  Adam gave up on answering his phone himself?"

Duncan settled a little more of his weight onto Methos and felt the other man shift under him, hips rocking up to drive that insistent, damp erection against Duncan's thighs.  "Connor," he sighed, unconsciously licking his still-swollen lips.  "No.  They called you too?"

"Of course," Connor chuckled and Duncan wondered what private joke had amused his kinsman this time.  He knew that smug, pleased sound too well; in the past it had been a warning that he was going to get dumped on his ass in a spar.  "They were annoyed about missing the Christmas party and Edana's dress," Connor went on, "but I'll get them drunk next time they come through Manhattan.  So.  How many calls?"

"Too damn many," Duncan growled, only to choke down a gasp as Methos bit impatiently at the side of his throat and stroked impatient, skillful hands up along his ribs.  "Your timing needs work, Connor."

Connor laughed at him, that annoying staccato sound, and pointed out, "No, you need to take the phone off the hook, man, or drag him to your place.  There'll be no quiet else.  Tell Adam later that if he'd ever actually tell anyone a straight story, he'd have less trouble."

While Duncan was still spluttering in an indignant, barely coherent mix of Gaelic and French that Connor was a fine one to be talking, his kinsman cheerfully said, "Duncan," and hung up.  Duncan delivered his last few comments anyway, then stuffed the receiver under his pillow and slid down the bed to end up back where he'd been when they'd been interrupted -- again.  Methos squirmed under him and tugged Duncan around, settling the two of them on their sides instead to get equal access to Duncan.

The new position still let Duncan go back to what he was doing, and he delivered a different kind of tongue-lashing than he'd had in mind for Connor.  From the way Methos' hands tightened on his hip and thigh, he did appreciate the occasional growl that rumbled against and around his cock, however.  Duncan certainly appreciated the moans and groans around his.

When he could think again, Duncan sighed and crawled back up the bed to tug the covers around both of them, then sprawled half on top of Methos, one arm crooked over his waist and chest and that leg curled over Methos' thigh.  His lover sighed at his warmth and burrowed under it.

"Connor?" Methos finally asked sleepily, moving just enough to rest his chin on the crown of Duncan's head.  He inhaled deeply, and Duncan sleepily reminded himself to get some more of this shampoo, since Methos liked the smell of it so well.

"Mmm-hmm," Duncan agreed out loud.  "I'll tell you tomorrow.  Nothing that important."

"I'm going to kill them," Methos sighed, switching subjects with the ease of the half-asleep even as he stroked one hand lazily along Duncan's back.

"Nah," Duncan disagreed.  "That would be over too quickly."  The stroking hand lingered at the nape of his neck and he rumbled his contentment deep in his throat.

"Don't get mad, get even?"  Methos snickered under him.  "There's hope for you yet.  Tell me you didn't put the receiver back on the hook?" he asked then.

"Mmm.  No.  I didn't.  It's under the pillow."  Duncan started to raise up and put it back but Methos hastily tightened his grip.

"It can stay there," he growled.  "Go to sleep, Highlander."

"An emergency--" Duncan started to protest.

"--wouldn't get through tonight anyway," Methos cut him off.  "Go on," he murmured, "go to sleep.  I'm going to."

"Aidan--"

"--is more than smart enough to turn off her own phone," Methos promised.  "I'll call her tomorrow night, though, and apologize for getting us all into this."

"There's hope for you yet," Duncan muttered in Gaelic and fell asleep to the sound of indignant muffled chuckles under his ear.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"Two."  Marc looked up from rolling snake-eyes and groaned.  "Ah, hell, and I don't have a 'Get out of Jail Free' card either.  Want to sell me one?"

Aidan considered the board and his properties.  "I'd trade it for Reading Railroad," she offered.

"And give you three of the four railroads?  I'll take my chances."  He shook his head, only to flinch when the phone rang.  "I knew it was too good to last.  This one must have kept the uncles on the line for a while, though."

"Hmm, I might know who it is, then," she answered.  "Of course, it might be relatively harmless.  Say, a telemarketer...?"

"Relatively harmless?"  Marc grinned at her as the phone rang again.  "Nah, I think it's a relative.  Which means 'harmless' doesn't quite describe it."

"Thank you so much," came the tart answer before she answered the phone.

Marc reached over from the kitchen table and kicked it to speaker.  These calls had just been too informative for him to miss the fun.

"--must say, it was pleasant to actually hear from them again.  It's been a few decades or so.  Now, what's this about your being in my neck of the woods, Magistra?"

"Am I really, Terrence?"  Aidan raised an eyebrow at that and reached for the pad, flipping to the next page.  "Where are you?  I knew you and Carolyn were thinking about moving but the last address I have for you was in Portland.  I suppose that's relatively close," she commented dubiously.  "Compared to the rest of the family, certainly."

"We moved to Tacoma last year.  Did you not get my Christmas card?  No, you must have moved shortly thereafter yourself, I suppose.  Carolyn said that being in the same city as Powell's was a hindrance to her writing speed."

Aidan managed not to snicker too loudly.  For any reader or writer, Powell's was a considerable temptation.  They billed themselves as 'the largest new and used bookstore in the world;' given that they occupied an entire city block, stocked more than a million new and used books, and had over thirty-five hundred sections....

"I have to ration out my own trips there; I understand perfectly," Aidan told him dryly.  "And you're right, that is fairly close.  Shall I take it Xan and Alex called?"

"Mmm-hmm."  He sounded a bit bemused.  "I didn't think some of that was exactly...."

"Anatomically possible?"  Aidan smiled despite herself.  "No, it probably wasn't.  I wonder who annoyed them now?"

"Apparently they were having trouble contacting Ishtvan," Terrence told her.  "No great surprise.  The last I heard, he had decided to assist the Saharan Polisarios in taking on the Moroccan army, which means he's not going to be easily found.  You might consider offering thanks for your blessings received."

"I'll do that."  Aidan smiled.  "Morocco?  That man...."

"He always enjoys fighting for the underdogs," Terrence said cheerfully.  "Ish does like a challenge, after all.  Now, how are you?"

"Well enough, if getting far too many phone calls to get any work done.  Did Alex and Xan also mention that you have a new brother?"

"Oh, yes.  Said he has verbal dodging down quite nicely.  Hmm.  Are you free this weekend?"

Aidan glanced over the calendar.  "If the calls quiet down sometime tonight?  Most likely.  I should be able to make up this afternoon's lost time over the week, Terrence.  Coming to visit, then?"

"Are you making soda bread?"

"Certainly, and stew if you like."  She flashed a quick smile at Marc.  "Shall I ask your new brother to make biscotti?"

"They did say he was Italian."  Terrence chuckled.  "Only if he has time, though.  I do remember what the first few years are like.  But Carolyn's been wanting to meet you, and I want to meet Marc, so we'll come to Seacouver Saturday if you're both free.  I don't suppose that blues bar is still open?"

"Joe's?  Of course it is.  And I have an extra apartment right now if you two would like to spend the night," she offered casually.

"Then we will," was the immediate reply.  "You're stuck with weekend guests, Aidan; we'll see you Friday night.  We're buying dinner," he added firmly.  "I remember what studying with you is like.  Somehow I suspect that my brother can do with a night out.  One question before I let you off the line, though.  Are you happy?"

"Very."  Aidan left it at that, but she was smiling at the Monopoly board.

"Well enough, then.  Do tell young Marc that I said hello and I'll see him in a few days."

"I'll do that," she chuckled, amused by Marc's deliberate silence this time.  After Terrence had hung up, she lounged back in her chair, apparently studying the board.  "You're quiet."

Marc shrugged, slender shoulders rising and dropping quickly before he raked a hand through dark curls.  "I need to cut this stuff."

"I could trim it if you like," she agreed, her voice deliberately noncommittal.  "What's wrong?"

"How many...."  He trailed off, grateful once again that, unlike Chris, Aidan tended to give him time to organize his thoughts.  "You said you'd trained more than twenty students?"

Aidan thought about it for a few minutes and ended up muttering under her breath as she marked tallies in the air.  She looked back up at him, finally, raking a wayward strand of sable hair back from her face as she answered, "Not counting the ones where I've only assisted?  Twenty-seven, now, with you."

"You serious?"  Marc glanced up at her, amber eyes carefully blank.  "Do most of us teach so many?"

Now it was her turn to shrug, and she ran the captive lock of hair between her fingers as she hunted for words to explain.  "I was raised to be a clan druid, Marc.  They taught me to be responsible for the safety of the clan.  That included all sorts of things, I'm afraid, from learning how to gauge when a specific crop would be best planted or harvested, to teaching the children and ensuring our future that way.  So I'm not particularly daunted by the idea of training someone.  Since I also happen to enjoy teaching," and she caught his eye to make it clear she didn't consider him an imposition, "my brothers have been known to bring me students when they don't have the time or inclination to deal with a new immortal."

"Oh."

She glanced sideways at him, then smiled, grey eyes sparkling with mischief.  "Then, too, I suppose I'd best admit this now.  Before you start wondering," Aidan added, leaning back in her chair.  "I tend to specialize in the more... energetic students."

Marc stared at her, startled and then beginning to grin.  "You mean that Damien's normal for your students?"

"Something very like.  Ish was a little extreme, granted, but I usually get the ones who ask too many questions, or won't take 'Because that's the way it is' as an answer."

"Or bounce off the walls?"  Marc was clearly trying not to laugh.

"Oh, the caffeine fiends?" Aidan asked with a pointed glance at his mug.  "Yes."

"Do you ever get -- I don't know, normal students?"

Aidan shuddered.  "Once.  Only once.  Usually I traded off the stolid ones to someone who enjoys a student who doesn't argue too much."

"So who was he?"  Marc tossed the die back and forth between his hands, much more interested in these tidbits than the Monopoly game.

"She.  Her name is Goiswinth.  And well, I doubt she'll call," Aidan admitted ruefully.  "For one thing, I don't much think Alex and Xan have her current name or number.  For the other, even if they found her, she'd be too scandalized that I'm sleeping with two men at once--"

"She what?"  Amber eyes blinked and Marc straightened from his lazy slouch.

"Goiswinth is very--" Aidan visibly searched for a polite word and finally growled, "--straitlaced.  Prim and proper.  Almost puritanical."

"You're kidding."  Marc took in the resigned irritation in Aidan's eyes.  "You're not kidding.  And she trained with you?"  He shook his head.  "Oh, man.  Every family has at least one?" he offered at last, trying not to look too amused.

"Something like."  Aidan sighed and turned back to the Monopoly game, murmuring something that sounded distinctly like, "Besides, no one else would take her...."

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

"Hello?" Marc answered cautiously.

"Ah.  Marc Scipio?"

He considered the pleasant, lyrical accent, and the languid tone.  "That depends.  Is it safe to say yes?"

The woman's slow smile tinged her voice as she answered, "Most safe, brother.  I'm Okilani.  By any chance, is our teacher there?"

"Half a sec."  The slender black man put his hand over the receiver and studied his teacher thoughtfully.  Her sense of humor had been starting to fray under the onslaught of calls, but this one did sound pleasant.  Then Marc considered what Aidan might think, and say, if he tried to screen her calls and he sighed inwardly as he asked, "Okilani?"

"Oh, lovely, I haven't talked to her in a few years."  He was relieved to see that Aidan actually looked eager to speak to this one as she punched the call over to the speaker without even asking.  "How are you, dear?"

"Widowed, actually," was the too quiet answer.  "I understand you're well, however?"

"Too well to suit Alex and Xan, which is irrelevant just this moment.  How long ago, Okilani?  Are you all right?"  Aidan leaned forward, mouth tightening with what looked like remembered pain to Marc, and he found himself making a sympathetic noise at the pain in his new sister's voice.

"A month, and not yet.  Not the first time, Mahina, and not the last, either, have no fear of that," came the tired answer.  "He was... very ill, for a very long time.  This time, Teacher, it truly was a release.  But the twins caught me just in time.  Another week and I would have been gone entirely."

"I'm sorry nonetheless.  Tani was a good man.  Will you be all right?"

That got a soft sound that wasn't quite a laugh.  "Well enough."

Marc added more quietly, "Okilani?  I'm sorry, too."

"Ah, you are still there.  I wondered," she said gently.  "And thank you, Marc."

"However," Aidan pressed her, still frowning in concern, "where are you headed?"

"Do you remember that anchorite's house that Flynn bought?"

The reserved calm of his sister's voice reassured Marc... and Aidan, he decided as he listened to the Irish woman answer, "Yes.  A few years farming on Holy Ground?"

"It seemed a good idea.  We'll see," Okilani said, sounding calm.  "Perhaps it will simply drive me mad, or at least goad me back into circulation, too.  Annoyed the twins, did you?"

"Mm-hmm."  Aidan seemed inclined to leave it at that and Marc shook his head.  That wasn't quite how he'd have put it.

Her former student only chuckled softly.  "I imagine you annoyed a few others even more, you realize.  Have any of the rejected suitors called yet?"

Aidan flinched but she didn't look surprised or startled by the idea, Marc realized.  No wonder she's not happy about all the calls coming in!  And most of the calls have been friendly so far, wonder if Aidan's expecting that to change?  Maybe I should be screening these, he considered thoughtfully.

Aidan confirmed ruefully, "I'm not looking forward to some of these calls, no."

"Anyone in particular?" her former student probed gently, sounding both sympathetic and a little amused by the current contretemps.

"Not that I'm admitting to," Aidan told her with a chuckle of her own, looking more amused.  "But let me worry about that, all right?  You've spent the last while taking care of Tani; time you took care of yourself, knowing you.  Call me if you need to, milia."

"I will, Mahina.  Tell Flynn I said hello, when he calls.  And if you get desperate for sanctuary from the rest of the family, you can bring my new brother along and we can split the cooking."

Aidan laughed at that.  "If it gets that bad, we may very well turn up on your doorstep.  Write when you get there, dear.  I seem to recall the Dove's Cote isn't on the phone lines?"

"No, teacher, he upgraded the estate.  Not only are there phones, the house has a data line.  I'll copy you on the email when I get settled in."

"Do that," Aidan told her, suddenly much more serious.  "And be careful, Okilani.  There have been... problems lately."

"I know; Kyra called.  I'll be careful, I assure you.  I miss Tani, but he wouldn't appreciate my showing up for that, after all.  Marc, I'll call another time, or write.  Both of you take care."

Marc watched Aidan after his sister hung up and wondered if perhaps it was time to suggest they went upstairs and sparred, or maybe headed to Joe's to teach some of the college kids more swing dancing.  Then he frowned, shook himself mentally, and went back to the Monopoly game he was slowly losing.  Nah.  She's okay for now.  When she isn't, yeah, then I'll play Italian big brother, he decided, and grinned as he considered it.  That might get amusing, too, come to think of it....

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Alex dialed the next name on his list and glanced over Xan's shoulder to see if Damien had replied to the ICQ message asking if he had any recent number for Ishtvan.  No luck yet.  Then Alex heard the line picked up.

"Constantine," was the awake, alert answer.

Of course, Alex thought, he could remember only a few incidents when Marcus hadn't sounded that way.  They had been memorable occasions, too.  "Marcus, it's Alex--"

"Alexandrias, if you have called at midnight for some reason less pressing than plague, famine, or the imminent arrival of dancing girls, I'm going to run you through the next time we spar."  However, the Roman former general only sounded crisply authoritative, not irritated.

Alex chuckled wickedly as he replied, "Almost that eventful, Marcus.  Which dancing girls, mind you?" he asked, momentarily sidetracked by his own curiosity.

"I've developed an overwhelming fascination with some of the women from Riverdance."  Marcus sounded mildly bemused as he added, "Lord, have you seen that flamenco dancer?"

"That," Alex freely agreed, "is one hell of a woman.  We'd never survive her, though."

"We would, however, die happy men," Constantine pointed out.  "What's the occasion for this call, though?  I would like to get sleep sometime this night, no thanks to you, and if something eventful has happened, I want to know about it now, not two hours from now."

"This from the man who stays up four days straight when he's chasing an interesting academic reference?"  Alex let the disbelief slide through his voice.  "No, we just thought you'd like to have the good news that Edana finally gave up on that damned vow of hers."

Constantine made an impolite noise somewhere between a huff and a snort.  "You woke me for that, Alexandrias?  How long have you been out of touch with her?"

"Until last month?  Almost a decade.  We never got her last change of address."  Alex paused.  "You knew about it?"

"I wished them well at Christmas, unless you were calling to tell me that you and Xenokrates dragged her into bed.  In which case," Constantine added, "pass her the phone so that I can enlighten the poor woman on your more unsavory habits."

"She knows about the time we had the goat delivered to your army barracks," Alex told him blandly.  "Don't bother.  And no, she's not here.  You knew?"

"It certainly wasn't a secret."  Alex recognized that tone of voice and braced himself from long habit.  He'd spent enough time in enough armies to know when an officer was drawing breath to lecture.  Sure enough, Constantine added grimly, "And that was not a reason to call me in the middle of the night, you know.  In a snit that no one told you, Alexandrias, or is this something even more childish than that, such as jealousy?"

"No," Alex stated, "it isn't.  But damn it, Marcus, we got back in touch with her last month, after almost ten years, and then only because Damien mentioned that she has a new student.  Hell, Duncan and Adam were on the phone call and none of them bothered to mention this?"

Marcus asked implacably, "Did you ask about it?"

"Of course  we asked," Alex snapped.  "And she put us off and Adam said he'd explain at Midsummer's why he was in the States.  A vow that old and she can't be bothered to tell us she's happy?"

"Or to tell her favorite brothers what's going on in her life?" Constantine commented sarcastically.  "What, afraid you're no longer her favorites?  Don't be ridiculous.  You're sulking, Alex.

"Now," he continued, "Edana has never been one for public modesty but I can't imagine why she'd be obliged to tell you her love life over the phone.  Surely you could have resorted to something a tad more personal?  Such as, oh, writing her?  Or visiting?"

"Whose side are you on?" Alex asked, starting to grin.  Leave it to Constantine to be blunt about the whole thing. What the hell, I haven't thrown a good snit in years, and I can send Edana flowers and congratulations later.  Something ostentatious, of course, to finish harassing her....

"The side of the woman who hasn't called at midnight to wake me up," Constantine told him firmly.  "Now.  You've called, you've told me, and I will happily give Adam grief for you in the morning, since I have no doubt that was what you wanted when you called me.  I'll get the favor out of you another year," Constantine added in a deceptively pleasant voice that made Alex wince at the thought of the bill on this.  "Do have a good night, Alex, and try not to annoy my line too much with this."

Alex hung the phone up, not even listening for the click of Constantine disconnecting from his end and contemplated the address book in front of him.

"Xan?"

"Hmm?"  Xenokrates looked up from the computer and raised one gold eyebrow thoughtfully.  "What's wrong?"

"Are we sulking?"

That drew a quick grin from his lover.  "I'd have said we creating mischief myself, but yeah, I suppose you could say we're throwing a very public tantrum.  Why?"

"Hmm.  Are we supposed to be the adults in this family?"  Alex smiled, slowly, at the thought, and watched his lover start laughing.

Xan finally managed to say, "Gods, no.  Not this century at least.  Not until we get another student and probably not then.  Why?"

"Just checking," Alex agreed cheerfully.  "Right.  I don't mind the phone bill if you don't.  And hell, half of them haven't known Aidan's current name and address.  We could," he added virtuously, "be said to be doing her a favor."

Xan laughed even harder at that and turned back to the keyboard.  "Keep that in mind when she finally calls to complain, would you?"  And he went back to trying to talk Damien into helping them find Ish.  It would have been easier, he supposed, if he told the redhead why, but so far he'd dodged that question....

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

This time they only had ten minutes peace before the phone rang again.  Marc sighed as he finished sorting Monopoly money onto the board and picked up the phone.  Before he could say anything, the other party did.

"Finally came to your senses?"  the baritone asked gleefully.

"Excuse me?" Marc asked curiously, wondering who this Irish man was.

"Oh, sorry, Marc."  A quick chuckle and the unknown man added, "At least, I'm assuming you're Marc.  I could be wrong on that, too, of course.  Put Edana on the line, would you?"

"Can I tell her who's calling?"

"No, I don't think so.  More fun if you don't."

Marc couldn't help smiling; the man on the other end of the phone sounded mischievous as hell and thoroughly friendly, too.  "Teach?  For you, no name."

"Oh, dear," she sighed, looking up from her dice roll and the fact that she had yet to figure out how to stay out of jail this time.  "Male or female?"

"Male," Marc told her, carefully restraining a frown at her reaction.  That does it.  We're out of here after this one.  Time to go feed the ducks, I think.

"Well, that lets out....  Never mind."  Aidan punched the connection with a bit more force than necessary.  "Yes?"

The only answer for a long second was silence.  Then the man said more thoughtfully, "Is it crazy the uncles are driving you, then, Maistreas?"

"Flynn."  Her instant smile carried into her voice as Aidan commented, "It's good to hear from you.  Okilani said you'd call and to tell you hello.  How are you?"

"I'm fine, and I'll call her later.  As for you, though, Edana -- how many calls so far, then?"

"You make thirteen," she sighed in frustration.  "They're a little irritated, yes."

"In how long?" Flynn pressed her.  "And was that my new brother?"

"In a little over two hours.  And yes, it was."

He snorted.  "Carrying it a bit far, they are.  Well, were I you, I'd take the lad and go catch a movie or browse a bookstore.  You have an answering machine.  You can call everyone back, later," Flynn pointed out gently.  He also sounded faintly concerned.

"I'm all right, Flynn," Aidan told him.  "Just... a little off-balance, I suppose.  It's not as if I were trying to hide anything--"

"--just that we haven't been there to tell," Flynn agreed immediately.  "Edana, quit worrying about it.  You know perfectly well we're just glad to see you with a chance at a long-term relationship, or at least not having to explain the swords.  You know that, Maistreas, if you'd only think about it rather than fret over the fuss the uncles are making."

"True enough," she agreed thoughtfully as Marc added this new brother's name to the list.  "Regardless of the mischief those two are up to, how have you been?  Still driving your undergrads insane?" Aidan asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"Of course," he agreed promptly and gleefully.  "They always seem to think I'm joking for the first few weeks of class.  Makes it much more entertaining when they figure out I'm not."

"What amuses me," Aidan said dryly, "is how much it sounds like some of what I learned as a child."

Marc glanced between her sardonic smile and the silent phone for a long moment before asking, "Flynn, what exactly do you teach?"

"Ah, you are still there," his new brother answered, bemused.  "Just a moment, Marc.  Are you serious, Edana?"

"You might reread The Dancing Wu Li Masters, Flynn, and let me know how accurate it is.  But yes, I'm quite serious."

A roar of gleeful laughter erupted from the speaker, and Marc found himself grinning in answer even if he wasn't entirely sure what this was all about.

Aidan waited until the noise began to taper offer before saying, "Flynn, thank you for the advice, and I'm going to take it, too."  Her voice dropped to an ominous purr as she added, "And then if necessary, I'm going to call Sacramento."

"You will never know," Flynn said conversationally, "how glad I am to have all this ocean between me and thee and the uncles.  Brother, a pleasure.  Let me know if you ever want to come to Honolulu for a visit.  I'll clear the books off the spare bed for you."

"Honolulu?" Marc asked him, surprised.  "What are you doing in Hawaii?"

"Teaching quantum physics and aikijitsu," was the gleeful answer.  "Go buy your student some books, Aidan.  Off with you."

She chuckled at that.  "Isn't that cowardice, Flynn?"

"I thought you told me it was called 'choosing your ground'?"  When that retort silenced her, Flynn added, "In the meantime, Edana?  You might think of their coming phone bill.  It might make you feel better.  Go on, though, and salve your scraped nerves with new books.  Marc, I'll call Sunday afternoon and try to catch you."

Marc shook his head at the dial tone and reached to shut down the line.  "Is he always like that?"

"Oh, yes," Aidan told him, smiling fondly.  "Always.  The hell with it, though, he's right, too.  What would you think of going to Borders?  I've been promising myself Pratchett's latest and this seems a good evening for that."

"Sure," he agreed readily, grinning.  "I want to pick up this month's issue of Architectural Digest so I can subscribe again."

"Done," Aidan agreed decisively and stood up.  "Let's shut this place down for the night.  I might even buy dinner."

Marc shook his head.  "Nah, we can't stay gone for that long.  You've got bread dough rising, remember?  I mean, the apples we can turn off, but...."

Aidan laughed softly.  "Come deal with the apples, would you, and I'll cut the dough into rolls.  We can refrigerate those easily enough and cook them for breakfast tomorrow."

"Done."  Marc added casually, "On one condition.  Turn off your cell phone, too."

"A bargain, sir," and she turned off the cell phone with a ceremonial flourish.

~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~0~

Marc opened the refrigerator and rearranged items on the bottom shelf to make room for Aidan's box of leftovers.  "Teach, we've got to clean this out or make stew."

"Votes?" Aidan asked him.  She turned back from hanging up their coats and tilted her head in inquiry.

"Hey, we've got rolls in there," he answered, shrugging.  "Let's start some stew tomorrow when we get back from running.  That and the rolls will make a helluva good dinner."

"Fair enough."  Aidan glanced at him, then said quietly, "Go on, Marc.  Go get some sleep, or watch the news or whatever.  Tomorrow will be soon enough to deal with everything."

Marc shook his head, black hair tumbling around his face only to be raked back with a casual motion.  "Sure, Teach, right after I clear the answering machine messages.  Why don't you go run a bath or something, okay?  I'll turn down the volume on the machine and you can get some sleep."

She laughed and then agreed, "Start checking the machine, o worrier, but I'd best listen.  There's always the possibility I really do need to call someone tonight."

Marc snorted derisively before moving his lanky form toward the answering machine with a flash of swift grace that reminded Aidan of Mandisa.  Then he slid back into his more normal pace and she smiled faintly.  "Have I mentioned yet that the tai chi is paying off?"

Her student didn't turn around from where he was busily rummaging in a drawer for the pens.  "Nope," Marc said, finally surfacing with a blue pen that he looked at dubiously.  "Is it?" he asked curiously as he pulled the pad to him.

"Yes.  You're moving much more smoothly already, Marc."

"Oh, good."  He chuckled suddenly.  "Oh, lovely, I'm changing my stance and pace just in time for Grandmama and the rest to come next week?  This should be fun to explain or dodge.  Hey, you think tonight is the dress rehearsal for the inquisition?"

Aidan laughed at that, a sudden peal of pleasure in the room.  "I hadn't thought of it that way," she finally gasped out.  "Oh, that's perfect."

"Yeah, well, keep that in mind," Marc chuckled.  "Josie won't eat you out of house and home, but Jay and Neil might."

Aidan laughed again.  "That's all right, Marc, it's only for a few days.  I can stand that, I assure you."

"Go on, Teach."  Marc turned and gave her his best 'older brother' glare.  "Go run your bath.  If you absolutely have to call someone tonight, I'll drag the phone over."

Laughter trailed behind her as she headed towards the oversized tub.  "Oh, all right.  Did I teach you to fuss at your elders like this?"

"Nope, but Grandmama will tell me I'm going to ruin your reputation," he answered.  "By the way," Marc went on thoughtfully.  "I'm confused on something.  "Why does everybody refer to Alex and Xan as 'the twins?'  Are they?"

Aidan commented, "I can tell you've never seen them.  No, Marc, Alex is dark and Xan is fair.  Minor differences in height, and Xan's strength is more in his legs, Alex's in his chest, but no, they don't look that much alike."

"Okay, so they're not identical."  He could smell the rose and lavender oils from the other side of the room, and shook his head as he decided, once again, that he didn't know Aidan well enough to interpret everything she did.  He didn't think she'd pulled out those bath salts since Duncan and Adam had left town, but that might be exactly why she'd used them tonight.  Marc raised his voice to be heard over the running water, and asked again, "But are they twins?"

"No," she promised.  "It's only that they're Greek.  Probably because of the stories about Castor and Pollux, and the Gemini constellation....  I believe Constantine called them that first and the name simply stuck.  They trained at the same time, you see, with the same teacher.  Teachers, briefly -- I helped with their training for the first year."

He turned around then, eyebrows raised in mute punctuation of his query.  "They're brothers of mine, or what?"

"No, they're my brothers, Marc, I promise," Aidan told him gently.  "They spent most of their time with my teacher.  I only helped for a little while."

"So what is going on?  I mean, they're going to a lot of trouble to get you in trouble," Marc pointed out reasonably.

Aidan gave him a knowing smile.  "As if you haven't given your sisters hell once in a while?  I seem to remember you have two of them?"

Marc went as far as opening his mouth to say something... then thought better of it and clearly swallowed the words.  He shook his head to decry any chance of touching that one, then said blandly, "Ah.  Right.  Let's see who called."  He punched the button on the answering machine with the deliberate trepidation of a ham actor playing up an execution scene to a crowd.

The mechanical voice announced, "You have nine messages."  Marc's groan was echoed by Aidan's, but she missed part of the first one in the sound of splashing water.  When she could make out the voice again, mostly because Marc had turned up the volume, Aidan heard, "--can't decide whether to be annoyed to be calling you this early and get an answering machine, or think you're being sensible, Aidan.  Do let me know when you get even with those two, would you?  I'll call again.  A demain."

Marc paused the machine.  "Did you catch that one, Teach?  'Cause she didn't leave a name."

"No reason she should," Aidan called over.  "She knew I'd recognize her voice.  That was Ceirdwyn, one of Marcus Constantine's students.  I suspect you'll like her."

Marc's voice was suspiciously neutral as he asked, "Didn't Jarunsuk mention her?"

"That's her, yes," Aidan said, trying not to laugh.  "Do I need to spell that?"

"Nah, I got it."

The next message also made her shake her head and try not to snicker.  "Edana, I can be free for the hunting party in two weeks.  Hope the old reprobate is treating you well, and if not, let's steal a few of the Cherokee customs, shall we?  Adelaide is fine, work is fine, I haven't gotten married, haven't murdered anyone either -- and yes, the last two probably are linked, don't say it--and if you have Duathor's number, I need it.  Call me tomorrow if you can.  At a more civilized hour than Xenokrates did, please.  Say, oh, about half-past noon your time would catch me at about six in the morning, Maistreas.  Later."

Marc ran the message back a second time to get the phone number.  "Aidan?  Should I be worried about her love life?"

"Worry about staying out of her love life," Aidan said firmly.  "Bridghe's relationships get a bit... tempestuous."

Her current student snorted at that.  "Uh-huh.  Sounds like that's right up there with 'Niagara is a bit damp,' too, y'know.  But if she's not married, who's Adelaide?"

"Adelaide isn't a who, Marc.  Bridghe is living in Adelaide, Australia."  Aidan shook her head, amused that he hadn't caught that but also pleased that he was starting to take the range of relationships in the family so calmly.  Sometime soon, of course, she'd have to make sure he knew that yes, there were such things as heterosexual immortal couples, of course....

Rather than comment on any of it, though, she went on, "What's next?"

The next voice, a Spanish-accented baritone, sounded thoroughly amused.  "It's Antonio, sister.  And here I didn't think you'd ever lose your heart to one of us?  A pity Ramirez missed seeing it, and I'll call again later.  And if this is some elaborate joke you've pulled on the twins... I'm so proud of you."  The machine cut him off while he was still chuckling.

Marc snickered, too, and said, "Damn shame you didn't think of that, Teach."

"I may yet use it," Aidan commented thoughtfully, and checked the water temperature with her hand.  "Not bad."  She started peeling clothes off, dropping them into the nearby papasan.  "I don't believe they went to the trouble of tracking him down, though.  He's in Jerusalem, after all."

"Jerusalem."  Marc shook his head.  "What's he doing over there?"

"I try not to ask," Aidan murmured, confident the water would cover her words.  More loudly she said, "I have no idea.  It could be just about anything.  He always was... flexible."  Marc choked down a cough or a shocked sound, and she glanced over.  "Not like that," Aidan told him, trying not to laugh. "In terms of job skills, Marc.  I think he's in construction supply this decade; Ramirez trained him in metallurgy and he's always liked working with materials and design.  You two may get along famously."

"Huh."  Marc managed to make a grunt sound both pleased and thoughtful, before he added, "Okay.  Ready for the next one?"

"Mmm-hmm," she sighed.  "Let's get this over with."

The next call, surprisingly, had nothing.  A long pause, followed by the click of a phone disconnecting, but no comments, either live or recorded.  Marc chuckled as he erased it.  "Man, I wonder if another telemarketer ran into your answering machine message?  That or somebody in the family wanted to talk to you, not an answering machine."

Aidan laughed, too, from where she was lounging in the steaming bath.  Scented steam curled around her, seeping into her lungs and apparently going straight to her nerves, judging from the increased relaxation of her muscles.  It might simply be the heat, though, she decided.  "That could be any number of them, if they're annoyed.  Ready if you are."

"Right."  Marc hit play again and this time they both recognized the voice.  "Damn, Magistra, I had no idea they'd do this," Damien's recorded voice apologized.  "I've already heard from some of the family about this and somehow I suspect you're hearing more.  Sorry about that, but then, no one told me it was a secret either.  Good luck.  Take care."

Marc started laughing again.  "What do you want to bet Stormy is having a few words with him too?"  He'd gossiped with Damien's Southern lady on a couple of their phone calls.  They'd been trading blonde, redhead, and Italian jokes, to Damien's surprise.  Marc suspected her military brat upbringing hadn't really sunk into Damien's mind yet.

"No bet," Aidan told him, leaning back into the tub.  She frowned when the next message was another hang-up.  "Oh, lovely," she groaned.  "Someone really wants to talk to me in person about this.  Why me?"

"Because you didn't argue with Adam fast enough," Marc said with a fair amount of sympathy.  His own encounters with Adam had been acerbic and rough-edged; he rarely won a discussion with the man, either.

"There is that," Aidan admitted and sighed.  "All right.  Next.  Let's get this over with."

This time the conversation traded back and forth between two amused voices, both male.  "You know, Edana, this isn't quite what we thought would happen?"

The second voice added, "Speak for yourself, Jake, I always thought she'd give up on that vow, but I was betting on a woman, not a man."

"Well, yeah, Shamil, but you studied with her, you knew her better than I did -- or so you claimed," was the teasing shot back from Jake.

"Anyway.  Call when you get a chance, Aidan, or let me know and I'll distract the twins for whatever mischief you're up to next.  But it is nice to have your new address and number.  I'm still in Helsinki, and Jake is visiting for a few days."

Aidan snorted at that, but didn't really start laughing until Jake added, "Anyway, call when you can, Aunt.  We're off to find trouble."

Marc called, "Got both names, and is the city still going to be standing tomorrow?"

"I have no idea.  Let's leave CNN off, just in case."  She managed to quit snickering as Marc hit the play button again.

This time, to Marc's surprise, the speaker was using Italian.  "Good Lord, Clarissa, it certainly took you long enough."  The woman laughed a surprisingly earthy, wicked chuckle before offering, "I'll call again tomorrow or the day after, when this calms down a bit, so that we can compare notes.  With a tongue like that, I'm sure Mathias must have some compensating skills somewhere to have made it this long."  Marc swallowed a howl of laughter, nearly choking as the speaker went on, "Later, dearest.  Do have fun telling the twins off, it's been too long since you really lost your temper -- I think they've forgotten you will.  Take care of yourself, or better yet, make those men of yours do it; you're overdue for some serious pampering."

Marc tried to sound neutral; instead he sounded both startled and more than a little interested in the last caller.  "Who in the world was that?"

"That was Portia," Aidan told him, her own voice choked with either laughter or embarrassment, and Marc didn't want to know which.  "A sister of yours, from Rome's imperial days.  Oh, my.  And here I thought Duathor was going to be the one who wanted to gossip.  Lady bless, I'll have to think about what to tell her before she calls back."

"Um.  Duathor was going to call back, too, remember.  You'd better think fast is all I can say, Teach."

"Lovely."  Aidan shrugged.  "Well, that's eight down.  Play the last one, Marc, and go on to bed.  We'll be running early, I think."

"After today?  Damn right we need a nice long run," Marc commented.  "And you've almost got me hooked on running at dawn.  All right.  Last one, then let's both get some sleep."

"Sulwen, it's Matthew McCormick.  I must say that I'm amazed, as always, by the insanity that runs in your family."  The man's drawling voice held an undercurrent of irritation, and Marc raised an eyebrow.  "Not to mention the things that some of your people will discuss.  I'm based in Alexandria, Virginia of late and if you'd care to discuss where this falls under the law, do let me know.  But somehow I doubt you're willing to have them arrested.  Pity."  McCormick did sound quite willing to arrest them, and thoroughly regretful that he wasn't going to get the opportunity.  "Do give my regards to the MacLeods when you talk to them," he added as a polite afterthought before the message ended.

Aidan howled with laughter, nearly sliding under the water, while Marc sputtered and rewound it to see if he'd heard it correctly.  "Have them arrested?  They're doing something illegal?" he asked, amazed.  "Could he do it?  Who is this guy?"  He glanced over and added, "Don't drown, all right?  If I have to pull you out of the water, I swear, I'll mention it to Adam just as he takes a swig of beer."

That only made her laugh more, but she waved one hand at him to indicate she was fine.  Marc shook his head.  "Teach... never mind.  I'll ask again tomorrow.  I turned down the answering machine, and turned off the ringer.  Sleep well, all right?"

Still giggling, Aidan called after him, "Thank you, Marc.  Good night."  She basked in the heat after he'd gone, sliding down in the tub with little regard for the hair piled loosely on the back of her head.  If it got soaked, it got soaked, but she intended to go to bed very soon indeed, and wanted to be relaxed when she did.  Unfortunately, her body didn't agree with her mind; it was tense, alert, awake...and hot water was not what it wanted.

"I knew it was going to be a mistake to get used to having lovers again."  Her words echoed in the too-empty expanse of her loft.  Aidan stretched again, trying to release the tension.  Instead she found herself enjoying the smell of rose and lavender eddying in the humid drifts, and the way oil-slick skin slid over and across itself under the water.

No, damn it all, I am not going there.  I am not going to pay so much attention to my senses, not when Methos and Duncan are both in Paris.  Her body, however, disagreed, restless even in what should have been a nice, relaxing bath.  Aidan snarled in a frustration she would have felt obligated to conceal with Marc there.  Instead, she gave up and stood, water sluicing down her skin as she opened the drain.

She toweled off just enough not to track water across the hardwood floor and stalked to the bed, irritated with Alex and Xan for stirring up memories and desires when neither of her lovers was in town for her to drag off.  Masturbation, however, somehow didn't feel like the proper solution to the problem.  A wicked smile slowly tipped the corners of her mouth up as one possible answer occurred to her.

"I could," Aidan murmured to herself while contemplating the phone on the headboard, "call and explain why I'm angry... then suggest phone sex."  She snickered, remembering all the times Xan and Alex had propositioned opponents and students as personality litmus tests.  Cold air on damp hair chivied her under the covers, though, and she settled under flannel sheets and thick blankets wishing wistfully for warm, masculine arms to wrap around herself....

She debated calling Alex and Xan, and for a moment even considered waking Methos.  Duncan would already be awake, she suspected.  "It really would serve them right--"

The phone rang then, an annoyingly cheerful sound to interrupt her musing.  Oh, damn, Marc forgot the one on the headboard....  Aidan seriously considered not picking it up for a long moment... but she gave in and reluctantly stuck one arm out from under the covers.  I'd only have to clear the message in the morning, after all.

"Logan.  And if this is a complaint, I'm not taking them."

"Whyever not?"

"Oh, Goddess," Aidan moaned, recognizing the light, mocking tenor.  "Salim.  Brother, don't start this right now.  Besides, aren't you married?"

"Not for eleven months now, no," he commented, voice even and uninflected for that one instant.  "Now, about this news," came out almost in a purr.  Aidan could very nearly see the way he always shifted before striking, an easy, lazy motion that concealed the speed with which he pounced on unwary victims.  She ignored that, however, focused on some trace of emotion in his first few words.

"In a moment," Aidan said slowly, twisting onto her side as she considered what he had and hadn't said.  "Salim, what happened?  I didn't think she was so old as that.  Was there an accident?"

"You could say that.  I got home two hours earlier than she and my business partner expected," he answered in that same even tone.  "Apparently Maria was more unhappy about my being sterile than I thought."

"Damn her selfish hide, brother, why didn't you call me a year ago when this broke, then?"  Aidan sat up in the bed, absently settling pillows behind her back and then blankets around her chest.  March nights in Seacouver made warmth a very good idea.

"Because, Edana, you'd never indicated any interest in pursuing the kind of consolation I wanted just then," Salim told her bluntly.  "Until now."  In a lower, more dangerous voice, he added, "With someone else."

"I think most of the family knew I loved Magister," Aidan answered gently, her hand stroking the flannel sheet in an unconscious effort to soothe some of his annoyance.  "I'm sorry you had to hear it this way, Salim, when Alex and Xan are--"

"You thought there was a good way for me to hear that you finally took up with immortals... and turned to a youngster half my age?" he asked angrily.  "Damn it, Edana, I took no for an answer each century I asked, but could you at least have told me yourself that you broke a two thousand year oath with someone you'd known less than a year?"

Grey eyes widened and Aidan stared sightlessly into the darkness of her loft.  "I'm going to kill Alex and Xan for hurting you so," she said grimly, her free hand knotting into the flannel sheet until tension burned across her knuckles and the taut fabric.  "No, Salim.  That is not what happened."

He paused at that, then said more slowly, "So what did happen?"

"I moved to Seacouver because I'd been in New York too long.  I met one of us here, Connor MacLeod's student, Duncan.  He and Methos apparently were friends, had had a nasty fight.  I had to challenge a witch named Cassandra to get her off Methos' trail, brother.  A day later Methos was in town, because a mortal friend had decided to meddle.  He also chewed me out for wasting my time and energy worrying about things that might not happen."

"Stop," Salim ordered.  "Duncan MacLeod and Methos are friends?  That would explain how you're sleeping with both of them and no one's lost his head.  But Methos scolded you, or your mortal friend did?"

Aidan chuckled, remembering it, and let some of the tension ease out of her as she relaxed against her pillows.  "Joe scolded me.  Our mortal friend.  He's known Methos for almost twelve years now, I think.  They both like jazz and blues," she mentioned and shrugged.  "And they're both more devious than they look."

"So someone finally found the words to get past your arguments."  Salim paused, and she heard the rustle of fabric settling around him.  "What's his last name?  I'll have to send him a gift."

Aidan smiled, a soft laugh huffing out of her at the thought of Joe's reaction if he got a strange package from--  "Come to think of it, Salim, where are you these days?"

"Catalonia at the moment, which is why it took the twins so long to find me.  But I'm relocating to London, Flame.  No matter, now.  Explain this to me, however, because so far you've given me more detail than Xan or Alex, but nothing different."

"I didn't go to bed with Duncan then," Aidan answered simply, eyes half-closed in the dark room.  "I seduced Methos."

"Ah."  He paused again, then said more slowly, "You're right.  That's not at all what I thought had happened."  A sudden sardonic laugh made her flinch, but he went on, "A difficult task you had of it, too, I suppose?"

"Difficult enough," she answered honestly.  "I was frightened."

"Of what?"  Now Salim sounded less bitter, more curious.  "He's old, but he's a man like the rest of us.  Scratches his balls, drinks too much beer, only pulls his pants on both legs at once when he can sit on the edge of a bed and that only because he's a paranoid son of a bitch."

Aidan laughed softly at that, too, squirming back down into the covers as she answered him.  "I only avoided the subject and the subtle offers for, what, Salim, twenty-five hundred years?  And he's had thousands of years of experience, thousands of years of lovers, no few of them immortal and very skilled."

"Idiot woman," Salim chided fondly.  "Ramirez always said you had the most insane courage in love.  Terrified of everything that would never go wrong and going forward anyway.  So," he cut over her attempt to protest, "did the lucky bastard have the gall to complain?"

"No," she admitted, smiling at the memory.  "He wore me out and gloated about it, but... no.  He didn't complain.  A truly lovely Midsummer's Eve."

"Midsummer?"  Wood creaked softly, china rattling onto china, making Aidan suspect Salim had settled back and put down a coffee cup.  "That would explain a few things, too.  And your young MacLeod?"

"He's four hundred," she pointed out mildly.  "And I've no ownership papers."

"You're in a trio, woman, you ought to consider such papers," was the amused reply.  "Might make the men more sure of where they stand."

"Thank you so much."  Try as she might, Aidan couldn't stay annoyed with him.  "And what about me?"

"You?"  Salim did laugh then.  "Flame's daughter, nothing extinguishes you.  Oh, you flicker and gutter occasionally, but nothing stops you save perhaps death, and I wouldn't be surprised to find you're part-phoenix.  What does a firebird need with documents and written promises?"

"Salim--"  Aidan had nothing to add to that for a long moment, could barely breathe from the shock of what he'd said... and no idea why it had hit her so hard.

"Edana?  What is it?"

"Even fires go out, brother," she finally whispered, cold even under the comforter.

"No.  Individual fires go out.  The eternal Flame is always there, though, just on the other side of the glass," Salim promised her, his voice sliding farther into a Persian accent for a moment as he reverted to the tenets of his own faith.  "What is it?" he asked, more serious and concerned.  "Are you all right?"

"I'm... fine."  She shook her head and tugged the blankets around her.  "Someone walked over my grave, I suppose."

"Do you need me to come west, then?" he asked gently.  "Since the two fools have left you alone with a new student?"

Aidan actually considered it for a long, wistful moment.  But Duncan and Methos had only been gone a couple weeks now and with the troubles that the line of Ramirez had been having, this was no time for her to put anyone else in possible danger.  Not even an eight-hundred year old immortal who carried nearly as much muscle as Damien, even if it was spread over a taller frame.

"No, you degenerate Persian," she finally said with forced lightness.  "I--  It's a bad time, Salim.  There's trouble coming, and I don't want you involved by accident."

"I'm younger than you," was the grim reply, "not easier to take.  I can be there tomorrow night if that's what you need, Edana."

"I think I just need rest."  She freighted the last word with longing so palpable that it sounded almost holy.  "It's just... Methos keeps pushing on Marc, and while I do understand why Magister is so frightened for me, I can't turn Marc away.  Salim, if he makes it, we're going to have another soul-healer in the Game.  If I can fix what that misbegotten, died-too-quickly bastard who first 'trained' him did to him.  If I don't somehow screw up his training myself--"

"You've trained how many?" Salim interrupted her bluntly.  "Twenty and more, most of them still alive?  And David, at least, was fairly good at handling troubled immortals.  Alex and Terrence still are good at it, when Alex isn't stirring up mischief.  Mandisa manages to handle Damien and Navarro both, which is more than any woman should have to manage by herself.  Drop that argument off a cliff, Edana, and it won't even glide, much less fly."

Aidan laughed at that, worn out and suddenly bitter.  "I'm just tired, Salim.  Tired of lovers dying on me.  Tired of friends dying on me.  Tired of--"

"--sarcastic calls from friends who begrudge you lovers who might just survive a century or five," he finished bluntly.  "Edana, you sound exhausted.  The twins made this mischief, but you're the idiot who's taken it to heart.  So have you done anything wrong?"

"Oh, almost certainly," she admitted, "but nothing done so deliberately."

He laughed at that.  "Hair-splitter."

"Quibbler."

"Madwoman."

"Trickster."

"Druid."

"Fire worshipper."

"Not yet," Salim said softly.  "Eventually, I think."  That froze her until he lightened the moment by asking teasingly, "So, I suppose you're not ready to run off somewhere to be the local heterosexual scandal?"

"I...."  She reached for an answer, testing her own emotions to see what to say, and couldn't find words for any of it.  Too many calls, resulting in too many reactions throughout the long day, had left Aidan too far off balance.  While she hesitated, shocked by her own confusion, Salim took pity on her.

"It's all right."  Salim chuckled then, light and amused and speculative.  "But if those two don't treat you well, I'll find someone to take on your student and kidnap you for a decade of hedonism.  I rather think Alex and Xan owe you after this," he pointed out pleasantly.

Aidan finally found a reaction:  contented laughter spilled out of her, breath easing in chest and belly as tension finally drained out.  "Salim, have I mentioned lately that I love you?"

"The last time we talked.  And if you haven't done anything wrong, Edana, then quit worrying about it.  So you didn't send announcements:  it's not as if you're marrying them, are you?"

"No," she told him, still chuckling softly and relaxing down under the covers.  "And since Xan promised to object--"

"To which of them?" Salim asked, interested.

"Methos, I think.  He doesn't know Duncan, although apparently he and Alex do know Connor."

"The one who defeated the Kurgan?  I wouldn't mind meeting him myself.  Any number of us owe him for that."

"True enough."  Aidan added cheerfully, "I already paid my part of the debt."

"Really?"  Salim laughed at that.  "What counts?"

"I'd been stockpiling good vintages for anyone who could do it.  I don't remember the last time I've been so drunk, Salim.  We held a glorious wake for the old goat."

"Jackdaw, you mean," Salim corrected.  "That man always did love bright things."

"Well, there is that."  Aidan sighed and settled farther into the mattress.  "Brother, don't you have to sleep soon?"  She spoiled the query with a yawn of her own and Salim chuckled when he heard it.

"I hate to tell you this, sister, but I'm actually up for the day.  It's eight-thirty in the morning, here.  You, however, definitely need sleep from the sound of that."

Aidan made a tired noise of agreement, the day's events suddenly rolling down over her.  "Well, I have to get up in six hours to go run with my student and I need to be awake to teach two aikido classes tomorrow afternoon, too."

"And a day's work to catch up as well?" Salim asked sympathetically.

"That, too.  Although I'm not on contract for this one and don't have to panic about that, at least," she admitted.

Salim sounded amused as he said, "Nice to know your Sight is occasionally helpful.  Warned you about young Marc, did it?"

"This once, yes."  Aidan shrugged and said tiredly, "Brother, can I call you tomorrow or the next day to finish this?"

"I was going to suggest it.  You do sound worn.  Go on, Edana, sleep.  Shall I call Alex and Xan and give them a piece of your mind?"

Salim sounded positively... proprietary and feral about the idea.  Aidan shook her head firmly as she said, "Oh, no, thank you.  I'll handle it."

"You'll go too easy on them," he pointed out mildly.

"What revenge you take is your business, Salim, but do stay out of mine, hmm?"  She forced herself farther awake and added, "And you'd better give it five minutes.  Their phone is going to be busy."

He did chuckle at that, a lovely predatory sound that made her purr.  "Do have fun and leave me a few bones to crack for the marrow, hmm?"

"I knew there were reasons we got along so well," she gloated.  "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Do you have my number?" Salim asked thoughtfully.

"No, but I'll make the twins email me every number and name they've tracked down today.  They owe me for this."

"Good enough."  He laughed softly.  "Five minutes.  Don't warn them, either, please."

"Of course not."  Aidan smiled at the sheer ridiculousness of that idea.  "Salim?  I'm glad you called."

"Idiot woman.  I'm just glad you're happy, even if it isn't with me," he said seriously.

"I saw Methos first?" she offered gently.

"That's all right.  You saw me later, too," he pointed out.  "Tell them they'd best take good care of you."

"I will.  Good morning, Salim."

"Good night, Edana."

Aidan considered the phone long enough that she heard the dial tone start back up.  She sighed, knowing Salim really would place his next call in five minutes, and hit the speed dial for Xan and Alex.  To her surprise, it rang through immediately.

"Morgan," was the immediate response from Xan and Aidan smiled dangerously.  The prospect of a fight like this more than made up for postponing sleep just a little while longer....

She let an ominous tone sink through her words as she told him in Greek, "Put your lover on the line too, Xenokrates.  Time I had some words with the both of you."

"Really?" Xan asked, also in Greek.  He sounding neither worried nor concerned.  His mistake, so far as she was concerned.  "Finally got your attention, did we?"

"Well, I've had one offer to have you arrested, two offers to help beat you both bloody, several offers of a diversion, and one request to leave a few bones intact to crack.  Of course, knowing the family I'm assuming the two of you have had offers of assistance, too.  Now put Alexandrias on the line or regret it."

"I'm here," she heard from Alex and he sounded thoroughly pleased.  "So.  Have we made our point?"

"I can understand your annoyance with me, brothers, and it was justified, although not to this extent.  But what, precisely, has Salim done to you that you decided to shred his heart for him?"

Dead silence met that for a moment, then Xan said softly, "Not a damned thing, Edana.  What are you talking about?"

"Did you know his wife left him not a year ago?  And made sure it was very unpleasant?"  Aidan let the afternoon's annoyances burn through her voice, knowing they'd hear it.

Alex sighed and answered, "No, we didn't.  And?"

"And that he would have married me eight centuries ago if I'd said yes?"

Xan countered, "Sister, you've had quite a few proposals over the years.  So have we.  Are we supposed to remember them all?"

"He thought I broke my vow for someone I'd known for a few weeks, rather than for a man I've loved for no few centuries.  If you can't relay information correctly, o my messengers, best you stay out of the bardic professions."  She laced her voice with scorn and heard it hit the mark and sear.

"Ah."  Alex paused then said quietly, "We didn't do it deliberately, you know us better than that.  But Aidan?  If it was that serious between the two of you, then you should have called him.  You know that.  Don't blame all of it on my temper, sister.  The fault doesn't lie entirely with me."

"When you finally get angry, Alexandrias, you have a tendency to leave behind scorched, salted earth," Aidan pointed out in a too mild voice.  "Enough of this.  You have indeed made your point.  I will be sure to keep you updated on such important matters in the future."

"They've been that annoyed, Edana?" Xan asked curiously.  "Mostly they've been startled, or shocked.  The women in particular have been amused."

"Hell, Portia wanted details," Alex added.  "And didn't believe us when we said we didn't have any," he complained in bemusement.

"And who offered to arrest us?" Xan wanted to know.

"Matthew McCormick," Aidan said pleasantly.  "You did know he's a special agent with the FBI, didn't you?"

"Oh, no," Alex groaned.  "No, we didn't."

"I'm tempted to let him," she added, twisting the knife.  "You may have been annoyed, but you went too far, brothers.  You owe me."

"With you, yes, we did," Xan admitted.  "You at least admit you were wrong."  He said casually, "On the other hand, it gave us an excuse to catch up with people.  Are you telling us you haven't been catching up on gossip with the rest of them as they called?"

Aidan did laugh then, abandoning her temper.  "I have heard from more people today than I had in the last two months.  Most of them I hadn't talked to in months, if not years.  You're almost forgiven.  Almost.  You owe Salim an apology."

"And he'll get it," Alex agreed promptly.  "A very sincere one.  Damn, Aidan, we didn't know about the divorce."

"And I want an email tomorrow with everyone's addresses and phone numbers that you acquired today," Aidan went on implacably.

"Done," Xan promised her.  "Look on the bright side; all of this is on our phone bill.  Still angry, sister?"

"Not really," she admitted then.  "Just tired.  And horny," she growled, "damn you both for that."

"We could head north and take care of it, my bonny lass," Alex told her, chuckling with a sound that made her wonder if he had grown his mustache back and was twirling the ends of it.

"No, you will not," Aidan told him firmly.  "My life is more than complicated enough just now -- largely because of you two, I will add.  Don't even think it."

"Don't forget we offered, then.  We're not taking the blame for that if you won't let us handle it."

"Not even phone sex," Aidan said resolutely.  "No."  She heard the soft ring of another phone line in the background and smiled at the thought of who else was waiting for them.  Sauce for the goose was definitely sauce for the ganders.

"That's yours, brothers.  We're done with this, yes?"

"Yes," Alex agreed, laughing softly.  "But it's good to hear you incandescent about something again.  About time something knocked you out of that calm."

"Thank you so much, Alexandrias," she muttered, settling back into her pillows.  "Brats.  Take your call and send me my email and quit this."

"Yes, and yes, and done," Xan promised her.  "We'll even come up and apologize over Memorial Day.  That gives you two months to calm down first," he muttered loudly enough for her to hear it.

The other line rang again and Aidan said, "You'd best take that.  Good night, you two."  She hung up before they could ask if she really planned to have them arrested, and giggled softly at the thought of Matthew handcuffing the two of them.  "Only to deliver them to me, I think, but I may see if I can talk him into that later.  Say, sometime during the statute of limitations on obscene calls.  I'll have to check on that," she whispered to the night air.  "No one ever remembers that the man does have a sense of humor.  He might think it was too amusing not to do it."

Aidan settled the phone on the headboard, checked to be sure the house alarm was on, and felt under her pillow for her dagger from long habit.  Reassured on all counts, she turned over, punching the pillow into proper shape and tugging the comforter and sheets over her shoulder.  Revenge didn't quite match sex but it would, apparently, do.  She might be able to sleep now.  She glanced up to be sure the alarm was set, smiled, and closed her eyes.

Images and reminiscences of family carried her down into sleep while she was still plotting how to terrorize the twins while saying thank you....

~~~finis~~~ 

Comments, Commentary and Miscellanea:

1 -- ::g:: Yes, Aidan really did keep that vow for centuries, and, she finally broke it in "Quarrels of All Kinds" with Methos.  No, she didn't tell Alex and Xan about this when they called in "Poaching."  Thanks to Kitt for pointing out that I needed to write this.

2 -- Yes, I finally know what Ish and Damien did to annoy Alex, what Alex did to get even, and the rest of it (thanks to Scipionis).  No comment just yet.  ;->

3 --  Oh, usual comment:  Didaskalos is Greek for teacher, Magister and Magistra are the  Latin for teacher (m & f respectively), Muirnin is Irish for beloved, and Maistreas is Irish for teacher (f).

4 -- A duena is an old Spanish term for a chaperone responsible for ensuring the chastity of her charge(s).  Usually an unmarried female relative.

5 -- I'll list who's related to whom at the bottom.

6 -- Powell's is a real bookstore, billed as the largest in the world, I believe, and the main reason my husband looks at me like I've lost my mind when I suggest we could move to Portland....  Check it out here.  Carolyn and Terrence, of course, are from the episode "Dramatic License."

7 -- The Polisarios are Saharan guerilla fighters trying to keep the Moroccans out of the Sahara.  This has been going on for quite a while; the Sahara is rich in phosphates the militaries want.

8 -- Milia is Hawaiian for beloved flower or beloved child.

9 -- If you've seen the Riverdance tapes, you'll understand why Alex and Constantine were raving over the Spanish dancer.  If not, get thee hence.  That woman can do a better seduction with hand gestures than most can manage with a lap dance.

10 -- The Dancing Wu Li Masters is a non-technical book on quantum physics by Gary Zukav that I've been greatly enjoying.

11 -- A demain is French for 'until tomorrow.'

12 -- By the bye, yes, if one of the parties on the call objects to the call and considers it obscene, it is a federal offense.  The phones are regulated by the Federal Communications Commission, remember?  Check here for the relevant passage.  (Thanks, Ali, for the URL!!)

13 -- The events from Aidan's explanation to Salim took place in "Absent Companions" and "Quarrels of All Kinds."

14 -- Salim, by the way, is a very old-fashioned Persian.  He worships pure Flame.

15 -- The David mentioned is David Braxson, one of Aidan's students who died during World War II.

16 -- Ramirez' wake took place in "Hold On."

17 -- <g>  Anyone know the state of Washington statute of limitations on obscene phone calls...?

Aidan's students who called:  Duathor, from Copenhagen, Denmark;  Terrence, from Tacoma, WA; Okilani, from Kyoto, Japan; Flynn, from Honolulu, HI; Bridghe, from Adelaide, Australia; Damien, from Charleston, SC: Shamil, from Helsinki, Finland; and Portia, from Bern, Switzerland.

Ramirez' students who called:  Connor, from Manhattan, NY; and Antonio, from Jerusalem, Israel.

Alex and Xan's student who called: Jake Falstaff, visiting Helsinki, Finland.

Methos' students who called:  Alex and Xan from Sacramento, CA: Jarunsuk, from San Francisco, CA; and Salim, from Catalonia, Spain, who was, incidentally, the one who kept hanging up.

Marcus Constantine, the Roman general and immortal from "Pharaoh's Daughter", trained Ceirdwyn, the Iceni woman from "Take Back the Night."  Ceirdwyn trained Matthew McCormick, from "Manhunt", and Alex Raven from "Sins of the Father."

Go back to Poaching
Go on to Sirocco