Disclaimers:  can be found in part 1.
Rated:  NC-17 for explicit m/f sex and for graphic depiction of violence.

Quarrels of All Kinds, part 2

 * * * *

Aidan sighed and indulged herself in some Greek commentary on the sand-blaster's ancestry before she set it down to figure out why it had stopped working.  A familiar, sardonic voice behind her spoke up.  "I'll give you a hint.  I unplugged it."

"Good, otherwise I'd have traced the machine's circuits before I checked the outlet.  What's up, magister?"

Methos and Duncan looked at each other and exchanged knowing, aggravating looks.  This time the Scot replied, "It's late, we're hungry, we're filthy.  Enough.  All three of us are getting cleaned up -- as soon as you give me my car keys back -- and you're buying dinner at Joe's.  Methos and I will flip to see who covers drinks.  You promised me a story about three husbands, remember?  We all need the break, we'll go back to work on this tomorrow morning bright and early again."

Methos smiled slightly, that scheming look of his that always made Aidan's pulse race and her hackles rise.  "Besides, we have some vengeance to wreak on Joe, for setting all three of us up.  Here's what I thought we could do...."

 * * * *

Joe saw Duncan stalk into his joint and immediately wondered if maybe he should have warned the younger immortal that Methos was headed into town.  The Scot's temper seemed to be on a particularly short leash, and Joe couldn't think of any other reason.

"Shot of scotch, Joe."  Duncan sat down on a stool, but didn't seem inclined to talk.  Joe considered asking, but decided not to push his luck.  Instead he polished the bar (which didn't need it), chatted with a couple ladies at the other end of the bar, and gave MacLeod some breathing room.

Out of the corner of his eye, Joe saw Mac straighten up, glaring at the door.  As he did, Aidan walked in with Methos, talking in low, intense voices.  Both of them had on that half-amused poker-face, and Joe realized they were arguing.  Aidan caught Duncan's eye, nodded a greeting, but waved at him to stay where he was.  Deliberately, she steered Methos to the other end of the bar.

"Hello, Joe.  Killian's Dark for both of us, please, and some water as well for me."  Joe raised an eyebrow at her when Methos looked away, admiring the ladies.  She rolled her eyes, and looked disgusted for just a second.  After a minute, she shooed Methos off to claim a booth that had just opened up, telling him she'd be there.

Aidan sighed, shoulders slumping.  "Goddess give me patience, and do it soon!  Those two!"  When Joe gave her a concerned look, she shrugged.  "It only came to swords once, and they broke it off when I got there.  I don't think they were getting too serious about it."

"You going to be okay in the middle?  Damn, I thought Duncan was going to apologize!"

Aidan shrugged.  "I'll be fine.  They'll work it out eventu....  Uh-oh, excuse me!"  She grabbed her beer and tried to intercept Duncan on his way to the booth.  Joe could see from the body language that they were getting into a heated argument, but they both kept it quiet.  Then Methos leaned forward and made some comment.  Aidan's eyes widened and she immediately stepped in front of Duncan.

Unfortunately, he was lunging at Methos.  The edge of the table caught Aidan in the stomach and Duncan's force propelled her forward; Methos managed to catch her before she cracked her head on the table.  The two men stared at each other, somewhere between shocked and angry, as half of Aidan's beer dripped off the table top where it had spilled.  When she straightened up and caught her breath, Aidan began to give them both a piece of her mind, in carefully calm tones -- but in Gaelic.

Joe hurried over, concerned.  "Damn it, what's gotten into you two?  You want to leave her out of your argument?  Aidan, you all right?"

"I'm fine, Joe, thank you, just 'discussing' something with these two idiots.  Are you satisfied yet?  Adam?"

Methos looked past her at MacLeod, studied Joe's obvious irritation and worry, glanced back at his former student and sighed ostentatiously.  "Oh, very well, Aidan.  Since he's so obviously out of practice...."

Duncan glared at Methos.  "Out of practice?  Why, you..."

"Duncan."  Aidan's voice lashed at him.  "Are you satisfied?"

He thought about it, glowering.  As Joe grew more and more worried, Mac abruptly started laughing, and gasped out, "Oh, I think so!"

Aidan rubbed absently where the table had driven her belt buckle into her belly with bruising force.  "And I think it's sufficient.  All right, you two?"  She held up three fingers.  "Three, two, one..."

"Gotcha!"  All three immortals chorused.

Aidan promptly continued, "...but did you have to slam me into the table, Duncan?"

"Well, we didn't exactly practice this.  You all right?"  He piled paper napkins onto the beer, swiped at the bench and finally sat down opposite Methos.  "At least Adam caught you!"

Finally Joe recovered his voice.  "You mean this was a sham?  What the hell is going on?"

Aidan held out the fax Methos had received and replied, "We thought you deserved some grief for yanking Adam across the Atlantic, giving me heart failure in the bar last night, and forgetting to tell Duncan that Adam was here.  Shall we call this quits?"

Joe promptly said, "I'm just a bartender, ma'am.  I never annoy the paying customers."

Methos and Duncan both choked on their drinks.  Aidan eyed both of them, her mouth twitching.  "Maybe I should come sit at the bar to get intelligent conversation...."

To the surprise of the male immortals, Joe gave Aidan a withering glare.  "Don't you even think about wimping out, young lady.  You'll think this fax was a set of C scales.  You hear me, Aidan?"

"I hear you.  About dinner...?"  She met his eyes and nodded;  Joe held her gaze until he was mollified by what he saw.  After he headed back to the bar with their order, and a promise to send Aidan a new beer, she sat down next to Methos.

"So, which of you is covering the drinks?  And who's dancing with me, later?"  Aidan grinned at both of them and promptly controlled the conversation for the next while.  Only later that night, after dinner, two dances apiece with Duncan and Adam, and several more with some of the regulars, did she agree to sit up at the bar and discuss that marriage she had used to distract Duncan earlier.

"Where do you get all this energy, Aidan?  Isn't it illegal?"  Duncan ruffled her hair, which was hanging loose for once, still a little damp from the shower earlier that night.

"You run; I dance.  It works."  She laughed gleefully, the music from the band's final set and the pleasure of the dancing making her almost manic.

Methos said wryly, "You run, too, unless I misremember."

"Just because you used to chase me around until I got used to running every morning before you started swinging," and she pouted at him, lower lip out and eyes dancing with mischief.

Joe handed her some Irish coffee.  "Here, drink some of this, and tell me about this marriage."  He casually scanned the area to make sure no one would overhear this who shouldn't and signaled Mike that he was taking a break.  Mike nodded, never dropping a beat in his conversation down at the end of the bar.  "Three husbands, Aidan?  Most of my customers have enough trouble keeping track of one!"

She sipped, then licked whipped cream off her lip.  "Ah, that is good.  And it can be argued as to who kept track of whom."  She glanced over at Methos.  "You remember them, don't you?  Hajji, Ishak, and Arslan?"

He grinned at her, as full of mischief tonight at she was.  "Of course I do.  I remember that Gods-awful storm as well, and the superb bride-price they paid me for you.  Four mares, a stallion, and a gelding out of that Caspian-Bedouin line that Ishak was so proud of."

Aidan's eyebrows went up.  "Is that what happened?  I wondered about that, but Arslan claimed it was man's business and I got... distracted from the question when I tried to pursue it."  She looked down and away for a second, suddenly flushed.  Joe grinned, having a very good idea what kind of distraction had caused that look on her face.  She glanced back up, asking, "Bride-price?"

Methos shrugged, looking smug.  "Well, you claimed me as a brother...."

"Hold it.  Back up, start this at the beginning, and you stay out of it until she gets to your part."  Duncan shook Methos' shoulder,  amused and wanting the full story on this.

"Well, it was simple enough, I thought.  I was traveling with a caravan in...," she paused for thought, muttering in two different languages briefly, "well, these days it's known as Georgia.  We were about a week's travel south and a bit west of Tbilisi."  She shrugged, assuming her best innocent look.  "I had a certain amount of skill at haggling."

Methos snorted and she reached over and swatted him without missing a beat.

"Three sworn brothers out of Armenia -- well it is today, it's my story and live with it--" she waved a finger at Methos who promptly caught it, "were taking a dozen prize mares for sale in Constantinople."  Aidan paused, distracted for a moment.  "Or was it Istanbul at that point?  I can never remember anymore."

Methos leaned over to grab his beer and commented, "Well, if you didn't always use that Turkish abbreviation of Stanpol you might have a better chance."

"My Turkish is better than yours.  I didn't pick mine up from horizontal dictionaries."

She pulled her hand free and took a sip of her Irish coffee as Joe muttered something about, "Children, behave."

"In any case, we spent a fair amount of time together on the road, practicing languages on each other."  She glared at Methos who obligingly looked innocent and stayed silent.  "Fool that I am, I fell in love with all three of them, decided it was a hopeless situation and kept silent for once.  What made it difficult on their part...."

Aidan looked at Joe and Duncan.  "Neither one of you speaks Greek, do you?"  Both shook their heads.  "Duncan, didn't you pick up some Arabic at one point?  You certainly laughed when I was discussing the US Postal Service the other day."

"Yeah, why?"  The Scot looked interested in this digression.

"Hmm, if it isn't much then you're going to have to take my word on this, I'm afraid, unless you're inclined to trust the ancient one here...."

"Hey!  I resent that adjective."

"Would you prefer decrepit?"  Wicked humor stilled him.  "I thought you'd prefer ancient.  In any case, as I was trying to say, the word for brother in most of the Mediterranean languages sometimes meant genetic brother, but as often it meant trusted friend, lifetime companion, or lover.  It was always and ever in the context.  These three were everything except blood kin."

Aidan tilted her head to one side, seeing Duncan get flustered.  "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine.  Come on, Aidan, I do live in the twentieth century.  I'm even slowly pulling myself out of the seventeenth on most things."  He was a little flushed, but not badly.

She noticed with interest that it looked like part of it might actually be arousal.  Now that will be worth remembering.  Wonder if he's figured out yet where his body wants to take the relationship with Methos?  "In any case, they thought they didn't like women."

Methos muttered, "They certainly changed their minds."

Aidan sighed and threw him an exasperated look.  "Look, these two never lived through the period, so help me explain it anytime I get off track.  But let me try, at least."  Joe promptly handed Methos a beer to keep him quiet.  The Watcher by God wanted to hear this.

"The main problem, and it was self-perpetuating, lay in the fact that men did not think women were capable of...."  Aidan stopped, clearly at a loss for words for once.  "Damn it, how shall I put this in English?  Only men were thought to have the necessary strength of character to commit themselves to a relationship so fully?  Oh, the hells with it, they used women as advantages, as connections to property, and as a means to get heirs, but friendship and love, the kind that didn't mind sacrifice, were thought to be masculine traits.  Marriages didn't depend on sleeping together, especially in Rome, Greece, and Egypt, and to a lesser degree elsewhere around the sea.  It was marital affection that validated a union, and property contracts that validated a marriage.  It was considered scandalous to be in love with your wife."

She wound down, looking frustrated.  "I can say it in Greek; I can say it in Latin; but English?  Feh!  The concepts are too inconsistent across the mindsets of the languages."

Methos handed her the beer, looking amused.  "Shall I try?"

Aidan threw up her hands -- figuratively.  One beer spilled in a night was plenty.  "Please.  By all means.  You can't do any worse!"

"The problem is that you're complicating this unnecessarily.  Don't argue, drink the beer.  Friendship was considered an essential part of love, whether erotic or platonic.  So, love required friendship, but to be friends you had to be equals.  Women were not considered capable of being equal with men -- not in strength, not in character, not in honor.  Ergo, a woman could not be a friend.  Ergo, you did not love women.

"Well, in English it would be 'fall in love'.  Bear in mind, what today are called friends would have been considered acquaintances then.  You didn't have many friends, usually one or two.  Of course, a friend in those days thought nothing of rearranging their life and affairs to spend all their time with you.  Check your ancient literature and history, although the literature is much more telling.  They campaigned together, lived together, adopted each other to settle properties and wealth.  Men would rescue a 'brother' over a wife or children.  The family could be replaced, so far as they were concerned."

Duncan held still, unable to control the startled look on his face.  So many things which had puzzled him about Methos' behavior fell neatly into place, settling with nearly audible snaps.  This definition of 'friend' explained the time Methos had offered his head, the times he had bailed the younger immortal out when he was over his head.  It even explained how Methos could leave Alexa in Greece and come help during that dark quickening.

Joe was nearly as surprised, but for different reasons.  Every Watcher worth their salt dreamed of sitting down with an immortal and asking questions like this.  What was the world like?  Why did you do this?  What was the point of doing that this way?  But if Aidan had lived through this time period, how old was she?

Methos broke off his lecture at the startled looks Mac and Joe were giving him.  "What?  I assure you, that's how the majority thought for quite a while.  In some ways, they still do.  Edana and I traveled as brother and sister because it was understood that I'd fight for my sister.  My wife I might have been willing to lend to another bed if there were advantage in it for me but my mother's daughter had my blood.  Look at the Celts and the inheritance going to the sister's son."

Aidan handed Joe a five.  "Buy him another beer.  Thank you, Magister, I couldn't seem to find a way to phrase it.

"You see, Arslan, Hajji, and Ishak wanted a woman who would hold to the standards they expected of a man.  They wanted someone who would be as faithful as a man in the field of war, in the bed, in the market, or in love.  The women of the time weren't brought up that way.  So they stayed with each other."  She shrugged.

"Then we were ambushed.  I had no intention of dying, or seeing them die.  I certainly wasn't going to be enslaved again."  Methos very casually draped his arm around her shoulders, just as Duncan wrapped his arm around her waist.  Her hands were very still around her coffee cup.  "So, the four of us were holding one corner of the caravan, along with the guards, and the other, male, merchants.  I was still using scimitar in those days, and spears and throwing knives and anything else I could grab...."

"To shorten a long story, they already liked me.  Finding out that I would stand shield to them and leave a pile of corpses behind made them even more fond of me.  They said that any one of them would marry me, except that they had sworn to share everything.  So I did the only thing I could think of, for which I plead exhaustion.  I offered to marry all three of them."

Aidan shrugged, sounding amused, rueful, and faintly guilty all at once.  "Well, it did seem like a good idea.  We discussed it for much of the rest of the trip to Constantinople; only fair, they needed to know they'd be getting a wife who wasn't a virgin and couldn't have children.  And wouldn't take orders."  Her mouth quirked at a memory.  "Arslan said I wasn't getting virgins either, so he didn't see how they could complain.  And Hajji just shrugged and made the comment that they certainly weren't going to have children if they didn't marry, so that wouldn't be a change.  Ishak told them to quit discussing it, we were all getting married and that was an end to it, and when was I going to show him that disarm technique?"

Duncan laughed despite himself.  "I can believe you married them!  But how did you manage three of them?  Did they ever get jealous?"

Aidan drank the rest of her Irish coffee and held the mug out to Joe with a plaintive look.  "Please, sir, can I have some more?"  Methos snickered at the Oliver Twist imitation, but didn't say anything.  Joe gave his watch a significant look, then picked up the decaf coffee pot and raised an eyebrow.

"That's fine, and honestly, I can do without the alcohol, too.  Someone has to drive.  Whipped cream, though, definitely.  Since it's late, let's shorten this extremely.  No, they did not get jealous, because I worked like a madwoman to ensure I didn't scant or favor any one of them over the other two.  Harder feat than any other three of my marriages put together and worth every moment of it."

Aidan jabbed a thumb at Methos, who let go of her shoulders to catch her hand.  "A few years after I married them, he staggered in out of one of those mountain thunderstorms you get in the peaks in the summer.  I felt an immortal in the area, and came running to see who it was."  She raised an inquiring eyebrow at Duncan.  "May I assume that, at your age, you've had the misfortune to run into some of us who like to kill any of our mortal friends and loves first to undermine morale before the challenge?"

Duncan nodded, looking grim.  "Several.  Slan Quince and Felicia Martens come most immediately to mind."

"Then you know why I was so worried when I felt another immortal in the area.  Anyway, he tottered in, I don't even think he'd been sure I was there."

Given the hour, Joe poured himself a Coke.  No point getting a DUI ticket.  He slid Aidan's coffee across the bar to Methos since the guys had her surrounded.  She didn't seem to mind.

Methos let go of her hand and passed her the coffee.  "Drink this, now I get to tell my part.  I knew from rumor and gossip that she was somewhere in the area.  There weren't that many females in those days with a reputation for sword work and healing.  However, I was in no shape to care.  I had played tag with lightning all afternoon and was 'it' again.  By the time I realized there was an immortal in the area, I barely cared.  Fortunately, Aidan's presence is rather distinctive."

Duncan replied emphatically, "That's one word for it."  Joe raised an eyebrow and all three immortals shrugged.  The Highlander said, "Sorry, Joe, it really is indescribable.  But memorable."

"I was conscious long enough to make sure it was her then I quite happily passed out.  When I woke up, I was tucked into a very comfortable bed, in dry clothes that were entirely too big, and a huge man was sitting in a chair by the window sharpening a sword."

Joe flinched.  "Oh, God, what did you do?"

Methos shrugged.  "What I usually do in such circumstances.  Nothing.  I lay there and tried very hard to look unassuming and helpless.  What would you do if a six foot eight inch man with shoulders like a bear was sitting there with a bastard sword and file?  He finally noticed I was awake and asked how I was feeling.  Incredibly gentle hands when he helped me sit up.  Imagine my surprise when he referred to me as 'mate-brother' and asked if I was hungry or wanted to clean up?"

Aidan had leaned back against Duncan, eyes closed and a fond smile on her face as she remembered her husbands.  She sipped her coffee occasionally, but seemed content to leave this part of the story to Methos.

"I adjusted to it quickly enough, Gods know she and I had both done this before.  Run into the other with a spouse, that is.  And we usually claimed to be siblings.  I was fine until he insisted on helping me into the common room -- he didn't think I should be able to walk on my own yet -- and introduced me to Aidan's other husbands."  Methos gave Aidan a dirty look she missed completely as her eyes were still closed, then continued.

"Just for your further confusion, Arslan was a huge blacksmith, and the linguist of the three.  Ishak was very single-minded, enthusiastic about his projects, and the main mind behind the horse breeding.  Very quick with a knife or a sword.  Hajji was the smartest of the three, downright vicious about protecting the others, and did most of the training of the horses.  He may have been the smallest, but he was also the quickest.  All of them dark-haired, dark-skinned, and strong.

"For the times, they were quite prosperous.  Plenty of food and a fair amount of variety, a good, solid house with two stories and four rooms.  Including, I might add, running water; Aidan had explained to Arslan what kind of piping she wanted, and insisted on getting her way.  They didn't seem to mind.  And they bred some of the finest horses I've ever seen.  Absolutely incredible, especially for the times."

Methos looked as smug as only he could.  "And they insisted on paying me a bride-price for her.  It was only fair, since they had, what was the word they used, appropriated such a talented member of my family."

Without opening her eyes, Aidan reached over and tickled Methos.  He pinned her hand against the bar and continued.  "I spent a few weeks with them, helping out with projects and talking to Aidan to be sure she was all right.  Besides, she needed someone to spar with.  Somewhere in there, though, they decided that I had survived the storm because I wasn't human but jinn.  If Aidan was my sister, which they weren't arguing, so was she."

Joe choked on his Coke, and had to be patted on the back a few times before he could breathe again.  Methos eyed him cautiously, then went on.  "Well, they did.  I had nothing to do with it, for once.  I think it was finding the melted dagger on my belt when I arrived.  Surprisingly enough, they didn't mind.  If anything, they seemed complimented that a jinn had settled down with them.  It did solve the problem of her not aging.  Best cover either of us ever had."

"What about the time you passed for a god?"  Aidan opened one eye to look at him.

"That one blew up in my face, as the Americans put it, yours didn't.  Besides, you weren't there, where did you hear....  Ramirez.  Damn."  Methos looked over at Joe and Duncan.  "No, I'm not telling either of you about that.  And if you do, Edana, I will pull out stories about your training you have asked me for decades to forget.  Need I remind you which ones?"

Aidan hastily signaled her surrender.  "All right, all right.  Pax, truce, what have you.  Let's wrap this up, shall we?  He stayed for a few months, and dropped back in every few years; more to visit my husbands than me I think."  Methos smiled and inclined his head in his most irritating manner and she threw him a wicked smile.  "When I finally figured out what my husbands wanted out of a wife, I took in two girls from the neighboring area whose family had died and raised them myself.  They married in when they were fifteen or so."

Joe looked a bit surprised.  "Wasn't that awfully young, Aidan?"

"Not in those days, Joe, and my husbands were in their mid-thirties by then.  The age difference was actually fairly normal.  Besides, the way I had raised them, they needed to stay with us.  The first man who tried to rape Jahana or Sayyida, or 'discipline' them for that matter, was going to scream soprano all the way to his grave.  We had something like a dozen children by the time Hajji died."

She smiled wistfully.  "It was nice having a family and getting to raise children who were almost mine.  I delivered every last one of them.  Kept track of the entire family for years.  Even after Islam finally made it that far, they never minded having a family jinn who showed up every generation or so with gifts and seeds and wanted to meet all the new members."

Joe looked at her thoughtfully.  "Three questions, none of which are any of my business, Aidan."

She shrugged.  "Ask away."

"What did you do when your husbands died?  I mean, did you stay and protect your... sister-wives, I guess would be the best term?"

Slowly, she shook her head.  "No, by the time Arslan died, the oldest boys were already in their mid-twenties and running the horsebreeding.  I helped bury him, then Sayyida and Jahana handed me my packs and one of our daughters brought the horses.  They said they knew I had only been staying until my last husband died, and they wouldn't hold me.  All of the children could fight; there was nothing I could do to make them any safer than I already had.  I headed straight to Constantinople and soaked Adrianna's robes for a while."

Joe winced in sympathy.  "So what ever happened to the family?  They still out there?"

"No, they died out during one of the Crusades, the Fourth I think.  Some idiots who didn't acquire enough loot during the sack of Constantinople kept going south."  Her body was very still.  "The area had become too prosperous.  Our family looked too inviting, and they were overrun.  Or so the locals told me.  It was old history to them by then, at least fifteen years."

Duncan rubbed her shoulders, keeping the movements gentle but continuous.  He remembered losing some of his families too.  Little Deer....

Joe asked his final question, knowing this one wouldn't hurt her nearly as much.  "Last one, I promise.  How old are you?"

Methos' head came up sharply and he narrowed his eyes at Joe.  Joe deliberately rolled the wrist with the Watcher tattoo to catch the immortal's eye, and then slowly, almost imperceptibly, shook his head.

"Joe, put the Coke down, hmm?  I would hate to be the cause of you choking."  She waited until he had moved it away, then reached over and set it safely out of arm's reach for him.  "How old do you think I am?"

"Islam made it into Armenia sometime in the 1000s, I think.  Sounds like you were there before then, so at least a thousand.  But I could swear you know Greek and Roman customs out of the Empire Periods.  What are you, fifteen, seventeen hundred?"

Aidan's mouth twitched as she tried to follow his reasoning.  "Not bad, but a bit too conservative.  Why are you assuming Empire and not Republic?  Both are wrong, mind; I date back to the kingdom.  I'm a bit over twenty-six hundred, Joe."

Joe swallowed dryly, tried to speak, and couldn't manage it.  After a long moment and two more attempts, he finally got out, "Well, they say older women are really something...."

Aidan chuckled.  "Nice recovery.  And I will freely admit, I learned more about men from that marriage than I had in my first several centuries.

"However, it's late, and we have work to do.  So do you, Mike has carefully not asked you something at least twice now.  I'll see you at home later.  Adam, am I giving you a ride?"

"Oh, I don't see why not.  Are you going to set the alarm for that ugly hour of morning again?"

"No, I was thinking more like eight instead of six this time.  I have some errands to run in the morning.  Unless you like hardware stores, you might want to see if Duncan will give you a ride."

MacLeod hastily spoke up.  "That's fine.  Did you make a spare key for your place yet?"  She handed it to him with a smile.  "Okay, I'll pick you up at eleven, Adam.  That will still let us get some work done before she gets there and complains."  Both the men grinned at her indignation.

"Night, Joe.  Be thinking about what you want to hear tomorrow night, for your next bedtime story."  Aidan collected Methos' arm.  "See you in the morning, Duncan.  Thanks again for the help today."  The last thing she heard from Joe was what was intended to be a quiet question.

"Did you really pull a sword on Adam, or was that a part of the act earlier?"  She didn't wait for the answer.

* * * *

Over the next week, the three immortals roughed Aidan's new house into shape.  They sanded floors down to a shade they hadn't reflected in years.  Ventilation holes funneled air up and down through the house, although grates hadn't been installed yet.  All the walls had been sandblasted to remove the soot from the brick.  Over the course of three very long days, Duncan and Methos replaced every window on the ground floor with smoke-tinted Lexan.  At the same time, Aidan dealt with the windows on the upper floors, replacing any broken panes with regular glass.

All three of them installed the screens on the bottom windows and on the transoms.  Aidan came up with some truly creative insults for ladders before that was over, especially after she had to wait for her arm to heal when she fell off laughing at one of Mac's stories.  The change in light and shading made an astounding difference in the rooms, and the fresh air circulating through made the work much more bearable.  Removing all the trash and old drywall gave the house an aura of patient readiness, much like that of a sculptor's marble waiting to be transformed.

At the same time Joe, Duncan, and Methos carried on a conspiracy to keep her from running herself or them into the ground.  Duncan challenged her to cook something he couldn't identify or top.  Joe ordered her to come listen to a new jazz combo.  Methos went on strike until she took him to the new Mel Gibson movie.  Not being a complete fool, Aidan realized what they were doing, but she knew she couldn't stop them.

Much to Joe's surprise, on a quiet Monday night she got up on stage and sang a Billy Joel set with him, then borrowed his guitar and performed an old Styx song, 'Boat on the River'.  She had to bribe Methos to be quiet before she could stump Duncan in the kitchen, though.  All three immortals traded stories and jokes, recipes and suggestions on the house, as they worked.

Duncan understood perfectly that after three centuries, Aidan and Methos had a lot of catching up to do.  He hadn't pushed his friend to come stay on his couch, although he personally thought sharing a bed with Aidan and not doing anything might be torture.  Watching the two of them over the week, he began to understand what he had to look forward to if he and Methos both kept their heads.  The two older immortals traded jokes in obscure languages, insulted each other thoroughly but affectionately, and worked together like two sets of hands run by one brain when needed.

What took longer for Duncan to notice was the fact that Aidan made sure to include him on the punchlines or tease Methos into explaining old stories.  She told him about immortals she had known, and what they had done or learned.  In more than one case she made sure he knew what had killed them and why.  Slowly, steadily, they began to move from being three sets of friendships to one intertwined team.

Methos watched and waited, not ready to push Aidan quite yet to find out what was bothering her.  Twice he woke in the night to find her sitting, chin on fist, staring out the window and intent on her own thoughts.  Both times he got up and brought her back to bed, rubbing her down until her skin warmed and her muscles relaxed.  She didn't offer an explanation and he didn't ask.  Whatever it was, she hadn't fought it to a standstill yet.

 * * * *

The shower cut off finally, leaving a cloud of steam in the bathroom.  The man who stepped in front of the mirror, toweling his hair off, studied his reflection carefully to make sure he had gotten the last stubble off while shaving.  He stood perhaps 5' 10", with curly golden-brown hair threaded with a little silver at the temples.  Clear blue eyes watched cynically from under straight brows as he parted his hair and pulled on a satin dressing gown.

Moving into his office, he turned to the computer he had powered up before climbing in the shower and accessed his email.  Working quickly, he handled two routine queries, saved all his normal transactions, and stopped as he noted the sender's address on one message.

"So, one of the accounts is finally activated?  Well, well, and here I thought the only hunting I'd get this summer was bear."  Only when he smiled did the thin scar down one cheekbone show.  He ran an affectionate hand down the pommel of his sword.  "Now, which one was it?"

He opened the message and studied the data.  "Ah.  Elektra Mycenas or her heirs and assigns, to be identified by a numeric code which will be passed down through the family."

He moved over to a filling cabinet and searched through for Mycenas, E.  "Ah, this one.  What documents did my people get?  Found  in Paris in 1824 according to the church records.  An 1836 confirmation record from San Michel and a daguerreotype given to the priest.  Normal enough looking child, I see, and a typically childish attempt at writing.  'With thanks to F. Darius for his guidance.'

"Undoubtedly the old reformer sent her to one of his protégés for training.  She opened the Munich account in 1883, accessed it once in 1938.  Well, well, it seems A. Logan of Seacouver, Washington, USA, has an account with the Citizens Bank of Seacouver."

"Let the hunt begin."  He pulled out the daguerreotype and tacked it neatly above his computer.  Then he pulled a cream-colored card out of the folder that read, 'Elektra Mycenas, Paris, France; Milan, Italy.'  He centered the card neatly under the picture and tacked it into place as well.

Working swiftly, he found the web site for the bank and got the phone number for its system.  He routed his call through five satellites and set his computer to work breaking into the bank's systems while he got breakfast.  Quite calmly, he ate, drank his coffee, and read the Toronto morning paper noting the deplorable state of affairs and the usual complaints against the government in Ottawa, Quebec, and the US.  He changed into comfortable slacks and shirt before going back to his computer.

Working quickly, he took the access code acquired sometime during his morning paper and, using the bank account number he had originally received, he acquired a name and mailing address for one Aidan Logan, formerly of Syracuse, New York.  The mailing address in Seacouver was a post office box, he noted with some annoyance.

Northwest Bell had no phone number for her.  New England Bell had no number for her.  Finally, searching Syracuse property records, he came up with a house which she had sold the previous month.  Tracking the moneys from that took a little longer, but he eventually found them in a bank in Syracuse and from there started stalking a forwarding address.

"Well, well, an escrow and lien inquiry.  So, how is she handling this, with no listed phone?  Let's hunt calling cards."

It took his custom programs half the day to hunt down an A. Logan with cards issued in New York whose current billing address was in Seacouver, but he got in a good sword practice and reviewed the stock market trends while the machine hummed and clicked to itself.  He placed a couple calls to brokers; the week in Alaska had kept him from paying the attention to the market he should have.

It was simplicity itself to hack into the long distance service's system and note the phone number from which she had placed the call to Germany.  A call to the public library in Seacouver got him the street address for the number, out of the reverse phone book.  It was not, to his surprise, a public phone.

"Joe's, hmm?  Either a restaurant or a tavern.  Let's see, shall we?"  Activating a voder to disguise his voice, he dialed the number.  He ran a finger along the scar on his cheek, a steady, repetitive stroking reminiscent of a Catholic telling prayer beads.

"Joe's, this is Renee."

"I'm looking for Aidan Logan.  Is she in?"  The voice came across as a reedy tenor; deliberately, he assumed a slight French accent.

"No, she left half an hour ago.  Did you want to leave a message?  She won't be back in until Tuesday."

"No, thank you, I'll catch up with her."  He disconnected the phone and smiled.  Pulling up a notepad on his computer, he began to make notes on what information to search for next.  Soon, Elektra Mycenas or Aidan Logan,  your head will be mine.  You're good.  You're not good enough.  There can be only one.

 * * * *

 Aidan shivered suddenly as she applied blue-tinted stucco to the wall on the first floor.  For just a second she tasted blood in her mouth and her legs tingled with pins and needles as if they'd been asleep.  Then the sensations were gone, as Duncan cursed explosively in Russian at the door he was trying to hang.  By the time she had levered it off him and the two of them balanced the heavy steel long enough for Methos to knock the hinges into place, she had managed to forget it altogether.

 * * * *

In Toronto, plans proceeded apace.  Even as he settled his affairs to run without him for a few weeks more, the hunter cast about for his prey's spoor.  A street address for Joe's Bar had been located; the CAA had obligingly supplied maps of Seacouver.  The owner's name came off the deed in the city hall, and phone records, financial transactions, and (more tellingly) passport details had been unearthed.  A blues club owner who traveled to Europe, Asia, and all over the US?  Frequent calls to Paris and Lyon?  How unusual.  Perhaps he could hunt two immortals this time?  It would require care and scouting, but outwitting the prey was so much of the fun.

He wrote the name down in a beautifully ornamented Gothic calligraphy.  'Joe's Bar, Seacouver, WA.  Joseph Dawson, owner & proprietor.'  The note went over the computer as another focal point for his search, next to the cream card and picture of  Electra Mycenas.

 More information came in on Aidan Logan every day, but none of it was detailed enough to suit him.  The identity was fairly new, no more than twenty years old, although the birthdate indicted she should be forty.  New York tax records showed her to be self-employed as a transmuter.  He had to laugh at the sheer gall of getting that profession listed in her papers.  What exactly did she change into what?

Passport records indicated that 'transmuting' paid relatively well.  She had a fondness for Ireland and Scotland, for Brazil and Indonesia.  An interesting scattering.  The woman traveled to water, from the looks of it.  Very interesting.  The insurance data on her old house would be very useful but he hadn't cracked their system just yet.  Pity.  An item-by-item listing could tell him what weapons she wielded.

Then he got the piece of data he'd been wanting.  The court computers in Seacouver showed a title transfer into her name and the Syracuse account dropped precipitously.  Within two days the Syracuse account was closed, all funds transferred to Seacouver -- with one exception.  Three thousand dollars went to Nash Antiques in New York.

"Well, well.  Perhaps I should drop down and pay a visit?  I do have a vested interest in antiques."  He considered it for a few minutes.  No, not without more information.  There was no point in being distracted off a hunt.  It could be as simple as a weapon she'd been wanting to acquire.  God knew, some of them did work on commission.

Finally, in that same elegant Gothic lettering, he wrote himself a note and pinned it above the computer.  'Nash Antiques, New York City, NY.  Russell Nash, owner & proprietor.'  I will come back to this one, perhaps this fall, perhaps sooner.  It may be simple.  It may not.  However, I have your address, now, Elektra.

* * * *

Joe watched with great interest from the door of the dojo.  Aidan and Mac were surprisingly well matched in a fight.  He was taller, stronger, with a longer reach.  She consistently moved a bare fraction faster than he could match, however.  She fought in a particularly tricky style, closing on him to score with her dagger, then deflecting him with her sword long enough to get back out.  It made for an extremely wide-ranging match, and she thought nothing of going over, around, or under the weight equipment in the dojo.  At one point, she had deliberately shouldered the heavy punching bag into him and tried to hook his legs out from under him as his center of balance changed, only to hit the floor herself as he kicked the bag back into her.

Methos sat on one of the benches, watching intently and coaching both of them.  The sweat-soaked towel around his shoulders told Joe the three of them had been at this for a while.  Blood stains were drying into his shirt, and the other two didn't look any better.  A dark, dried line ran down Aidan's waist to her leg, and the sleeves of Duncan's shirt were in bloody tatters.

Duncan deflected Aidan's dagger with his forearm as his knee came up into her thigh.  To his surprise, she ducked her head and let his momentum throw her to the side.  She rolled over her own weapons and came up on one knee, thrusting her saber into his side.  He folded over the wound but brought his katana down toward the right side of her throat, where her sword arm was already trapped in him.  She dropped forward, yanking the saber with her, and rolled desperately out and away.  As she twisted past him, though, she jabbed her knife into his lower thigh, which brought her arm up in a block as she kept going.

Methos whistled sharply, and both of them froze.  "Enough for the moment, you two.  Nice job, Duncan, although your low blocks need work.  Edana, what the hell were you doing using a stop-thrust?"

Aidan flopped onto her back, arms outstretched with her sword still in her hand.  "Agreed, that was stupid. I could hear Ramirez while I was still trying to recover my momentum."  She lowered her voice and the accent changed slightly as she recited, "'Your defense is speed.  Not height, not weight, not strength:  movement.  The moment you stop moving, you're dead.'"

Duncan sat on the bench, her main gauche beside him.  He propped the injured leg carefully as it healed, and looked down at his side.  "I don't know, you can't have been that sloppy.  That side shot surprised the hell out of me and I'm the one who has all the holes in him.  How did you do that?"

"A woman has to have her secrets, Duncan.  Actually, I'm not sure you could use it.  It works on lines of sight and relative heights."  She pushed herself up, breathing finally slowing, and frowned at him.  "You do realize I'd have never pulled that off if we hadn't been fighting with swords?  If this were unarmed combat, you'd have been more prepared to block a shot from that angle.  I swear, I'm going to run tumbling attacks against you for the next week or so.  Damn nice strike to the thigh, though."

Joe walked over to the bench and threw towels to both of them.  "Well, I'm impressed.  How long since you've practiced, Aidan?  Or do you prefer Edana?"

She pushed up to her feet, wiping her face with the towel.  "I've been running katas in your living room every morning, but I haven't had a sparring session this good in more than a month."  She picked up the big bottle of lemonade Gatorade and drained half a liter.  "Here, Duncan."  She passed it to him, and the Highlander tilted his head back, putting a serious dent in it himself.  "And Aidan is better, Joe.  Best there be no confusion on what I'm called.  It makes people suspicious when your friends can't seem to decide what your name is."

She laughed quietly.  "They start wondering what you're hiding, and then I have to dig up my own blackmail in self-defense."  She moved behind Methos and dug her hands into his shoulders, loosening tight muscles until he sighed and shifted on the bench to give her better access.  Since that put him behind Duncan, Methos reached out and went to work on him, searching out sore spots and tension.  Mac leaned forward, propping an arm on the wall as he relaxed into the rub-down.

Joe watched, amused, as it finally penetrated to all three of them what he was doing there.  Aidan twigged first, her face dismayed as she looked around for a watch or clock.  "Oh, Gods, Joe, it's after seven, isn't it?"

He grinned at her and indicated the windows.  Full night had fallen; the streets were illuminated only by the streetlights as a light rain fell.  "Aidan, I hate to tell you this, but it's nearly nine."

Methos shook his head tiredly.  "Damn.  I assume dinner is ruined.  MacLeod, time to switch out,  no one's gotten Aidan yet.  Joe, our apologies."

Duncan laughed.  "You're missing this, you two."  He looked up at Joe, hands working almost automatically along Methos' spine.  "Did you actually start it, or did you just assume we'd be late again?"

Joe shook his head, still grinning.  "Nothing's ruined.  You can't hurt beef stew by leaving it in the crock pot, and the salad's in the fridge.  If you three will get your butts in gear, Victor/Victoria is playing at ten on TNT."

Aidan whimpered under Methos' fingers as he eased the cables she'd been using for shoulders.  "That sounds wonderful, Joe.  Oh, damn, if it's nine here, it's midnight in New York.  Can someone pass me my coat, please?  He's going to kill me...."

Duncan reached under the bench with one hand, and passed her coat over.  Aidan pulled out a rubber case and retrieved her cellular phone, punching a number in.  She waited while it rang, grimacing at the time it took. "Gods, if I don't call I'll never hear--"

She paused, listening to the other person on the line.  "Your clansman, with those fast hands of his."  She fell silent for a second, then laughed gleefully.  "It was worth it to hear you sputter.  How are you? ... No, everything's fine, but you left a few things out when you trained him, so I'm correcting that."

She hastily held the phone away from her ear.  When the noise subsided, she put it back.  "Anyway.  Did I interrupt something? ... Damn, I was hoping I had.  You don't date enough.  ...  This is not about me, and anyway, I'm the older.  I have certain responsibilities, like keeping an eye on you.  ...  Well, I can't help it if you lost your belt in that fight!  ...  Anyway, I think you can send my gear out on the 15th.  That should get it here the 19th.  ...  Did you get the cashier's check?  Good.  ...  All right, I'll call on time next time, I promise.  What, a week again?  ...  Take care, brother mine, I'll call you next Thursday.  Try to make me interrupt something, hmm?"

She hit the off button, still grinning.  "Oh, I love picking on Connor!  He falls for it so beautifully!  All right, you two, let's go get cleaned up and watch Robert Preston.  Toddy has got to be one of the best roles on Broadway!  Adam, shall we flip to see who gets the shower first?"

Methos raised an eyebrow.  "I was going to help you get the blood out of your hair, but if you'd rather do it yourself...."

Joe laughed listening to the two of them argue on the way out.  "We'll see you over there, Mac.  Don't take too long, or they won't leave you anything."

* * * *

"Just a moment, sir.  You requested a ground floor suite, near one of the doors?"

He stood there, well-dressed and assured to the point of arrogance.  "Yes, I did.  Is there some problem?  I was assured that a room fitting my needs was available."

"No, sir, no problem at all.  I just wanted to make sure the clerk had written the details down correctly.  Here's your key, sir, room 118.  Welcome to Seacouver, Mr. Clausewitz.  We hope you enjoy your stay."  The desk clerk waited until the guest had walked out to his car, then sighed.  This was going to be a very difficult customer, definitely.

 * * * *

Aidan rotated her shoulders, loosening tension as she went.  One of the nicer things about being immortal was how quickly muscles aches and tears healed, assuming you actually got some short time to let them.  However, even an immortal hurt after two days of applying tiles and staining floors.  No one had ever found a comfortable position for doing floors in the two and a half millennia she had been around.  Fortunately, Methos had resisted the temptation to tell her to hire someone; he knew how she felt about letting unknown people handle her belongings.

She was not looking forward to installing a security system.  That would have to be done by experts, but she was already designing what she wanted it to do, and looking around for contractors.  She might not do it herself, but she'd be there the entire time they were, and she'd check all the circuits once herself to be sure it did what she wanted.

What worried her more, though, was the timetable.  Even with both Duncan and Methos helping her eight and twelve hours a day, the 'to-do' list was taking too long.  A week and a half left to Solstice?  She might yet have to ask Connor for help.

The men had taken advantage of the free evening to go play chess at Duncan's while the wood stain dried, and she had gone on to Sears to purchase appliances for the house.  Aidan had even been able to arrange delivery for the next day.  Of course, she had just bought both a washer and dryer, a huge refrigerator/freezer, a dishwasher, and a gas stove -- with cash.  She grinned at the thought of Duncan's face; he had continued to tease her unmercifully about the food, although she knew full well he was actually enjoying it.

She headed on to her next stop, the hardware store that knew her by first name now.  Time to stock in the necessary wire to start running outlets and 220v cables, and arrange delivery on the sheetrock.  Aidan had also brought a tape measure.  She needed to check the large jacuzzi tub, and figure out what size the platform would need to be, and the steps.  She and Methos both came from the age of social bathing, and she planned on introducing the MacLeods to the concept, if they hadn't already....

Immortal presence brushed just along her range as she parked at the hardware store.  Male, young, not nearly as strong as Duncan, much less Methos.  What the hell?  She controlled her reaction, but as she got out of the car, she 'dropped' a coin.

As she knelt to pick it up, she finished scanning most of the circle.  Who was he?  Where was he?  No one stepped into sight, she heard no voice giving a name or calling a challenge.  Aidan stood back up, pressing back with her shoulders for the reassuring feel of her sword under her shirt.  As she walked to the doors of the hardware store, the presence flared closer.  A car engine revved once and she stepped quickly in between two cars so that she wouldn't be too tempting a target.

She watched as a dark green car headed out of the parking lot, turning before she could see the license plate on the front bumper.  Feeling the presence fade, Aidan cursed herself for not learning more about cars.  She could drive one, change oil, replace a tire.  Beyond that, she had paid more attention to electronics than mechanics.  She had no idea what kind of vehicle that was, other than foreign built.  So, was someone issuing challenge?  Or had she startled him even more than he had startled her?  And did she tell Duncan?  Or Methos?  Or Joe?  Now what?

Her thoughts ran along three different tracks at once as she walked in the door, none of them having to do with the house.  Fortunately, she had, as usual, brought a list of what she needed and what measurements to take.  The stockers knew her; DeAngelo grinned and held out a hand for her check sheet.  "Hey, Aidan, how's it going, crazy woman?  When you gonna break down and go out with me?"

Automatically, she forced herself back into her public persona, laughing and joking with him as they filled her order and agreed to deliver the sheetrock in two days.  The older gentleman at the help desk asked how it was going, and offered a couple suggestions on glass bricking for the shower area.  Two of the stockers gave her a hand loading the wiring and duct venting into her truck.

She drove the city for an hour, not wanting to go back to Joe's just yet, not wanting to go to Duncan's gym either.  Nowhere did she see the green car behind her, yet something worried her.  This was not an idle encounter.  The premonition rode her hard, and again she tasted blood in her mouth, felt pain and fear lingering over her shoulders.  For just a moment, the scent of ozone rode the air.  Well, no surprise that a death would come of this.  It usually did when two immortals met....

 * * * *

"Joe's, this is Mike."

"Mike Barrett?"  The man's voice was pleasant, cultured, with a hint of accent.

Mike raised an eyebrow at that response. "Yeah, what can I do for you?"

"My name is Mikhail myself, Mikhail Pashkov.  I Watch Karl Gustav von Stengel.  You will want to intensify the surveillance on your subject, I suspect.  Gustav only leaves Toronto to hunt, whether animals or longer-lived prey."

Mike blinked, then his eyes narrowed.  "Thank you for the warning, Mikhail.  Call if you need any help, since you're out of your own area."

"A kind offer, and I shall take you up on it if needed."  Then there was only dial tone.

Mike immediately called Joe to pass on the word, knowing Joe would look into Gustav and tell him what he needed to know.  Maybe Aidan would be willing to help out with tending the bar for a while?  No, they'd have to explain....

* * * *

Gustav drove through the night, studying the terrain around his prey's new property.  So, there were plenty of good places to drive her to ground.  Time enough tomorrow to bug her car and see where she went and when.  Always there is the path to the watering hole, to the den.  No one is cautious in these safe, enlightened times.  The more fool they.

Already possibilities occurred to him, places to push, ways to strike.  Time now to watch.  He knew what she looked like, had followed her easily enough on her way to the hardware store.  She had felt him, he knew, but this Aidan Logan didn't have the right instincts.  She had walked on in as if nothing had happened. She hadn't looked for him, had only stepped out of the way as if he were any mortal driver.

What if she is essentially untrained?  What if she merely moves around to hide what she is, not knowing all of it?  Where is the pleasure in prey that doesn't fight? If the old priest had her trained, will she fight?  Regardless, she is almost two hundred.  I'll have her quickening, if nothing else.  And if she won't give me a fight, then I'll take something else of her before she dies....  He smiled viciously, remembering the quick easy stride from her house to the car, from her car to the store.  I would lay odds she runs like a gazelle....

Late into the night, he planned.

 * * * *

Methos passed Duncan the hammer before he could even ask.  "Don't ask why she's doing this.  Just trust me, you'll be glad you helped with it later."

Duncan grinned at him, and set the container of nails down.  Pounding the nails into place with an easy competence, he stated, "The other hammer is in Aidan's toolbox over there, since you're finished cutting boards."

"As soon as I get both of us something to drink.  Gods, but it's hot today."

Duncan raised his voice as he worked.  "Is she corrupting you?"  He continued to place and fasten boards to the raised platform, making sure to leave access to the plumbing connections.

Methos muttered into the refrigerator, "Never in the last two thousand years, more's the pity."  More loudly he replied, "Corrupting how, MacLeod?  Here, have some orange juice."  The older immortal picked up the other hammer and went to work on the platform for the tub, looking forward to getting the house finished.  Aidan always planned them well -- for comfort as well as efficiency -- but even for her, this one had promise.

"Since when do you swear by Gods?"  Duncan sounded entertained more than anything else.  "And I know perfectly well that she isn't buying a tub this big for just herself.  I can't wait to see Connor's reaction to this place.  He's going to look at the bathtub and drool."

"MacLeod, I was swearing by and at a Goddess before Edana was born."

"Yeah, I know, you were swearing at a Goddess before there were rocks, too, to hear you tell it."  Duncan kept working, half-expecting a friendly scuffle.  Instead, he felt Aidan's presence ripple through the house, then heard her voice calling, "Can you two give me a hand with these bricks, please?"

Both of them shrugged, then put their hammers down.  After they had moved the glass blocks and sealant over to the tiled shower area,  Aidan got out three beers and handed them around.  She leaned back against the platform looking more serious than usual.  "Methos, when's the last time you stepped between me and a challenge?"

His eyes narrowed.  "I haven't taken one of your challenges in at least eight centuries."

"Good.  Keep it that way.  Duncan, do you know of any young male immortals in town, driving an expensive looking foreign-made car, dark green?  Younger than you, I think, or maybe the same age but not so many heads taken."  Her voice was grim, husky with irritation.

"No, I don't.  What's happened?"

"I knew in mid-May I had a deadline to move out of Joe's.  Apparently I was wrong on the date.  I'll be borrowing a sleeping bag if you can spare one, but I'm sleeping here tonight, regardless.  Methos, you'll want to be out of there as well.  Duncan, he needs a place to stay if you would?"  She met the younger man's eyes unflinchingly.  "How much do we tell Joe?  He'll want to know what's going on."

Methos reached over and put a hand over her mouth.  Her eyes blazed, then she deliberately relaxed.  "All right, Aidan, try this from the top.  Did you have one of your foreseeings?"  He let go of her and waited.

She drew a deep breath, and took a sip of her beer.  "I haven't 'seen' anything yet, just... foreboding.  Premonition.  Blood in my mouth, scent of lightning in the air."

Duncan stared.  "You've the Second Sight, woman?  You never said anything."

"Duncan, even for an immortal, I'm an odd one.  And I rarely like what I see, and it's not always going to happen.  Sometimes it's fixed, sometime it's mutable.  It doesn't happen often enough to be useful.  It's nothing but a nuisance."  Her voice sounded miserable, and Mac found himself wondering for a brief moment how it would feel to be as separate from other immortals as immortals were from mortals.  Without a word he stepped forward and hugged her.

"It's all right, Aidan, we love you even if you do have eyes in the back of your head."  He said it in a completely serious voice and it took her a second to start chuckling.

Methos watched the by-play, glad to see her shaken back to herself, then pulled the discussion back on track.  "So what has happened?  Why are we changing sleeping quarters post haste?"

"Sunday, when you two were playing chess and I was buying such kitchen necessities as stoves, I went on to the hardware store to get the ducting and wire.  Do you remember?"  She stepped free of Duncan's arms, pacing as she thought.

"I remember.  You took forever on that errand.  We were joking that you ran for Canada rather than face your own work list."  Methos watched her, waiting for the bad news that had to be coming.

"When I parked at the hardware store, an immortal came into range.  Deliberately, I'd say now.  I wasn't sure then.  I looked around without letting him know it...."

Duncan interrupted.  "You're sure it was a he?"

"I always know what gender, and usually I get some feel for how strong or old they are.  Ramirez taught me how, it's part of why Methos took me to him.  In any case, I've been a spy often enough to look around without getting caught.  I couldn't find him.  No one appeared, no one challenged.  When I was within, say, twenty feet of the store, he left in a hurry.  Dark green car, four door, mud on the license plate, which was on the front of the car anyway.  Foreign make.  I wondered if I had simply frightened him."

She stopped pacing for a moment to face Methos.  "And before you say it, Magister, no, I didn't believe it for a minute, and no, I haven't been letting my guard down.  But I didn't want to alarm you two or Joe until I had to.  Now I have to."

Methos watched her, grim.  "Why?"

"For the last two hours, while I was doing setup and on the way over here, he's been sliding in and out of range.  He's stalking me."  Rage tamped down, became cold intent.  "I stopped at an alley along the way, where no one can see from the street.  He never came.  He means to play cat and mouse until I lose my wits, and thus his challenge."

She paced in controlled, lithe motions that told Methos she wanted blood.  "I can't be sure he won't come after Joe, and most of us can't differentiate at a distance, therefore you are moving out as well.  Duncan's been wanting your company in any case, and I've been selfish to hog you."

Duncan wrapped his hand around her arm and decided that she couldn't be too badly out of control; she hadn't spun on him when he stopped her pacing.  "Aidan.  Stop and think.  I know you two, both your bags are packed with the possible exception of shampoo and toiletries.  Joe's still at home, Methos; call him, get him to bring your gear to the bar with him.  Both of you will come stay with me.  He can challenge you..." and MacLeod bared his teeth in a feral smile that Aidan echoed, realizing he wouldn't take her chosen target, "... but the two of us can watch and see that it's fair."

Methos looked back and forth between them and then smiled, vicious himself.  "Age before beauty, Highlander.  If he does manage to win, I get next shot at him.  I've not missed her company for three centuries to have her quickening end up with you."

Aidan laughed, a soft, thirsty sound and stretched exorbitantly high, balanced on the balls of her feet, back arched, head back, arms wide and reaching for the world.  "Oh, it's been too long.  Lawful prey again, and he's all mine."  She laughed again, that feral, predatory sound and purred, "Oh, you fool, you utter fool to warn me...."  She settled back down onto her heels, still laughing softly as she stalked the room, stretching to pull the tension out of her arms and shoulders.

Methos reached for her cell phone.  "Joe, it's Adam.  We thought you'd like a respite from house guests.  If you'll throw our bags into your car, we'll get them at the bar tonight.  ...  We're going to impose on Duncan, since Aidan insists on being in her new place by Solstice.  ...  No, I thought if she was going to work us to death we'd get revenge by making her sleep on the couch or the floor over here.  Also it's simply more convenient for coordinating with Duncan, and she can be insistent when she's in a hurry.  ...  All right, we'll be by tonight to get them.  Thanks, Joe."

He looked at the other two.  "Done.  He even sounded slightly relieved.  Joe's lived alone too long, I think.  He's gotten used to having a house to himself.  Now, then, let's work like the mad on this place until just before dusk and then get the bags.  I think a movie is in order tonight, don't you?"

Aidan smiled at him.  "I love changing the rules on them, don't you?"

Methos shrugged, elaborate innocence personified.  "Whatever could you be talking about? Making him look for you in places where you can see him when he comes in the door?  I love silhouettes, one of the better things about the Victorian era."

Suddenly serious, he said, "Can you tuck me and Duncan up your sleeve as it were?"

"Not let him know how many immortals there are?  Yes, for a little while.  If he sticks to today's pattern, which I admit I won't bet on, yes."  She smiled.  "Let's work, then.  The bathtub gets delivered tomorrow."

"Cutting it close weren't you?"  Duncan gave her a mock salute as he went back to work on the platform.

"Not as close as I'll cut something else, mo cridhe.  Hmm, shall we spar to see who sleeps on the couch?  Winner gets the couch so as not to listen to the other two snore?"  All three of them laughed and went back to work, hands periodically checking swords.

* * * *

Joe pulled Methos aside when he came in to collect their bags.  "What the hell's going on?"

He glanced around to see who was listening, decided it was safe enough and replied quietly, "We're keeping you out of harm's way as best we can.  An immortal is in the process of challenging Edana.  From his behavior none of us are sure he'll leave mortals out of this.  Joe, he was stalking her during setup today."

Joe's temper flared.  "Oh, was he?  In my place....  Wait -- he?  You're sure?"

"Aidan is.  Her judgment is good.  And just outside your place, ghosting in and out of range."  He shrugged.  "Duncan and I simply intend to keep him honest.  Aidan said to tell you she will be here for setup, without fail, and you're not to worry."

"Are you worried?"  Joe watched carefully, wanting the truth.  Aidan had been Methos' student, he ought to be a reliable indicator on this.

"No.  She's angry, but not in a rage.  She hasn't lived this long by being easy prey."  Wisely, he didn't tell Joe not to worry.  "And no, we're not asking if you know anyone is in town.  By your reaction, I can tell you do.  Leave your oath intact on this one, Joe."

"Be careful, Adam, there's another Watcher in town."

"Oh, we'll be most careful.  Night, Joe."  As he turned to leave, Methos threw a sardonic comment over his shoulder.  "Watch your head."

* * * *

So the prey is in motion?

He cursed softly.  She had knowledge, she'd had courage enough to wait for him this afternoon, but now she surrounded herself with friends.  Wherever she had been staying, she was moving now.  Two duffel bags were slung over her shoulders.  He'd follow her truck and see where she went, then, but he was going to have this head.

The sensor led him to another brick building; the sign read 'DeSalvo's Gymnasium.'  He recognized both her truck and the black Thunderbird that had been parked outside her new property the last few days.  A mortal lover?  An immortal one?  He parked a block away and scouted the area, staying in the shadows as he went.

Her presence wrapped through the building for as far as he could feel.  So, one immortal but stronger than he had expected.  This was manageable after all.  What a pity, though, that the bartender, Joe Dawson, had not been one of his kind.  Two in one trip would have been a rare pleasure.  He turned away, knowing she had felt him.  Let her wonder when he would come.  When she was fatigued, unpredictable, more dangerous as prey, he would strike.  In his time, not hers.

* * * *

Aidan opened her eyes, worn to the bone.  "Done.  He came by, brushed me and left again."

Methos caught Duncan's eye and they both got up from the chess game.  "Good.  If he follows the usual pattern, he'll think you'll stay up all night now.  Surprise.  You won't."

She yawned widely, then covered her mouth with the back of her hand, looking embarrassed.  "Sorry, I seem to be tired."

Duncan rolled his eyes.  "You've been sleeping less than either of us for weeks now and you spent the day playing bait.  Of course you're tired, Aidan.  There's no need to apologize.  Come on, acushla, we're tucking you into bed."

She shook her head, tired and obstinate.  "I already said I'm taking the couch."

Duncan tilted his head in her own mannerism and replied, "I know perfectly well you two were sharing a bed at Joe's.  If we're putting two in the bed, it's you and Methos.  A couch won't hurt me.  I'm the youngest of us; my back will be fine in the morning."

She giggled at that, but pushed herself to her feet and staggered the few steps to the couch and dropped onto it.  "I am not..." and she yawned again, "... putting you out of your own bed, MacLeod.  It's rude."

Methos sighed and commented, "So is arguing with your host.  I have a suggestion that might settle this."  He waited for them to say anything, then suggested, "Why don't I sleep in the middle?  There's enough room for all three of us, and if someone wakes in the middle of the night and needs more room, or just wants to sit and think, he or she can take the couch then.  That way MacLeod's chivalry and your good manners are taken into account and everyone ought to be satisfied."

She smiled at him, half-asleep already.  "You just want to sleep on the bed because you've slept on too many floors."

"Absolutely.  Come on, Edana, hold onto me."  Methos hauled her to her feet and slung her arm around his shoulder.  He turned to tell Duncan to get her other arm, but it was unnecessary.  Together, the two men walked her to the bed, finally realizing that she had burned the last of her energy wrapping her presence around the building.  Methos held her up as Duncan turned down the covers, then settled her against the pillows so that she was almost upright.

"Duncan, will you dig her brush out of that bag?  It should be in a side pouch."  When the Highlander returned with it, Methos quickly brushed out and braided her hair, tying it off with the ponytail holder she always left wrapped around the brush handle.  While the oldest immortal was busy with that, Duncan brought over her saber and tucked it under the bed on her side, pointing out to her exactly where the hilt was.  The Scot settled behind her to prop her up; Aidan kept trying to curl up and go to sleep right then and there, and at the very least they needed to get her shoes off.

Aidan murmured thanks in a dialect of Gaelic so old that Duncan barely recognized it, her eyes closing despite her best efforts.  Methos unlaced and removed her boots, then quite calmly started removing the rest of her clothes.  The Scot raised an eyebrow as the older immortal continued to strip her down to the skin.

"Should I get a night shirt for her?"

Methos shook his head.  "No, she only sleeps in clothes under duress.  She'd just toss and turn and pull any shirt off during the night.  Trust me, neither of us would get any sleep until she was content."

Duncan couldn't resist looking.  He'd seen her stripped down to almost nothing before, working on the house or when she pulled off her shirt to spar the other night.  Seeing her relaxed against his chest naked was incredibly erotic and at the same time, his protective instincts roused.  He already knew about long well-muscled legs, smoothly curved hips, a trim waist.  (He hadn't seen the gold chain which dangled below her navel before;  four emeralds, at least five carats each, hung from it.)

What he hadn't noticed earlier was that a thin curved scar ran along her bottom right rib up to the base of her sternum.  It looked like Aidan had been in a knife fight in her first life, or tried to slip through a passage not quite wide enough for her.  Her breasts appeared to be a bit on the small side of average, although that might just be the contrast with wide shoulders.

Methos knew perfectly well that Edana wouldn't mind, so while he removed her hideout daggers he let MacLeod look his fill.  The waist chain and her necklace he left on because she would notice if they were gone.  When he thought the Highlander had finished gaping, at least for now, Methos scooped her up bodily and settled her into the covers.  She turned onto her side, tucking her hand under the pillow with a murmuring sound.  Eyebrows drew down into a frown, although her eyes never opened as she reached for something under the pillow that wasn't there.

Duncan got up and retrieved her sheathed dagger.  As soon as he slid it into her hand under the pillow, Aidan relaxed.  Methos pulled the sheet up around her shoulder as her breathing evened into the cadence of deep sleep.  Both men watched for a moment to be sure she would stay asleep, then looked at each other.  Mouth twitching with a repressed smile, the older immortal only said, "I believe it was your move?"

Go back to Quarrels, Part 1
Go on to Quarrels, Part 3
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