Circa 12th century. Sherwood Forest, England.

Stopping again, Methos closed his eyes and counted to four very slowly, wishing fervently that he had lost his persistent shadow. All around him the forest was still, the few birds quiet as he let the lushness of the trees and grass fill him in an attempt to soothe his nerves. Then behind him ever so softly he heard the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping. Damn, bugger, bother! Curse the Gods!

Turning, he peered into the undergrowth and could just make out the leaf green jerkin of this follower. It was the nosey brat.... again! The one with the incurable inquisitiveness that was going to get the child killed. Cursing his lot, Methos wondered for the umpteenth time why he had stayed in Sherwood. He should have returned to London. Or better still taken off across the ocean to find a nice uninhabited landmass. Anything just to get away from the madness of the Crusades that was affecting everyone's thinking. Last thing he wanted was to be on the wrong end of a Sarisain's blade.

Shivering at the thought, he muttered under his breath at the stupidity of mortals. Wars never accomplished anything. At least that was something he had learned in all his centuries of life. The enlightened truth of passionate causes eventually died and the land and its eternal designs just kept on unhindered by time.

Dragging his mind away from those depressing thoughts Methos let his eyes narrow and glared at the bush the skinny whelp was hiding behind. "You might as well show yourself." He called, sick of always being followed by this impressionable child.

"It was the twig, wasn't it?"

Hearing the unhappy tone, Methos sighed and begged patience from the numerous Gods he was well aquatinted with. Looking skyward he rolled his eyes. At least the child had boldness. It would stand him in good stead later in life. Or get him a quick death.

"But I am getting better, aren't I?" The young boy asked seriously. "I was really trying-"

"Yes," Methos sighed agreeing whole-heartedly with that sentiment. Trying was a very good description.

"Everyone says you are the best tracker-"

"Really?"

The child nodded enthusiastically as he scrambled closer and grinned up at the man waiting poised. "Can you teach me? Please?"

Groaning as he meet those over-large brown eyes, Methos wanted to say no, but found it was almost impossible to deny this precocious child anything, especially when those large eyes begged him silently for help. With the child's long dark hair and obvious enthusiasm, Methos could well picture that this lad would one day be a force to reckon with. Only he doubted he would be a very good role model for the child.

"Please?"

"What's your name?" Methos asked instead. Although he'd seen the child often over the last few months, he'd not really focused on his name as he'd been too preoccupied with avoiding the sheriff's patrols and keeping the deer population under manageable control. And on the tables of the poor. It was a phase he was going through.... a self-purification program. Or a relief from utter boredom, more like.... a little voice insisted in the back of his mind. At least that was what he kept telling himself as he prolonged his departure and stayed another week. Besides Gweneth of Loxley was a fantastic cook, and her family, though poor, was extremely hospitable. And he needed to feel the warmth of human companionship. Craved it desperately. So he had lodgings and well cooked food, ale and all for the meat he supplied the few scattered villages. A very workable arrangement, for if he was caught the villagers wouldn't suffer because he was not a native of the area.

"Robin, Sir." The young lad answered promptly and proudly.

"Robin?" Methos repeated.

"Yes."

"And your father is-"

"He's dead." Robin said with only a touch of emotion as he wiped a grubby hand over his eyes. "I live with Much and his family."

"I see."

"They own the Mill, and-"

Getting the picture, Methos nodded, knowing the Miller. Raising a hand to silence the flow of words he watched Robin hiccup on an excited breath. He smiled, glad the child was at least good at taking instructions. Lifting a brow he reassessed this young one. Intelligence and obedience. Definitely workable.

"You're gonna trap another deer, aren't you sir?"

Trap? Methos frowned in annoyance. "Shoot," he corrected as he turned away and gestured for the boy to follow.

"You know it's against the sheriff's law-"

Scoffing at that, Methos scanned the area, reminding himself not to dull his senses. Though if the sheriff were around he would get fair warning by the amount of noise his guards made. Rather it was the sheriff's so called cousin he wanted to watch out for, for the man was a bumbling idiot and Immortal to boot. A second rate swordsman whom the Sheriff had allowed for some misguided reason to train his guards, if their incompetence was anything to go by.

"I hear they cut off your hand for poaching-"

"And I think you talk too much."

"Oh," Robin closed his mouth and blinked up at his teacher. "Will you teach me to hunt like you?"

"If you are silent."

Nodding Robin fell into step next to him and carefully watched how the tracker walked through the thin layer of leaves and twigs. Studying the movements conscientiously, Robin tried to imitate this amazing man. "What can I call you, sir?"

Not having really decided on his new identity yet, Methos had just taken the term given him by Gweneth. The 'tracker of Loxley'. Or as she had joked last night, just Loxley. Besides, he hadn't planned to stay around long enough to be memorable, so a name was unnecessary. Most villagers kept to themselves and respected his privacy. But Gweneth had given him the eye last night and he was now considering his options. She wanted more than the occasional bounty he brought the villagers. She was offering him an identity, a place he could hide. Oh he was definitely going soft in the head. Maybe he should go off and join the Crusades, just to sharpen his perspective.

"Sir?"

Dragged back to the present by the persistent child, Methos calmed his immediate response. "Loxley. Just call me Loxley."

---

Present.

"Robin??" MacLeod asked in disbelief, not trusting the look of utter innocence he saw immediately come into Adam's eyes. "As in 'The Robin of Sherwood?'" MacLeod continued, enthralled despite the nagging suspicion that he was being conned, and by an expert.

"Didn't I just say that was his name. You're obviously not listening, MacLeod."

"You expect me to believe, that you taught 'The' Robin of Sherwood how to hunt?" MacLeod pushed, not sure if he wanted to laugh in delight or thump the man in exasperation. Both options were terribly tempting especially when Adam proceeded to lounge back nonchalantly on the bed.

"I was only in Sherwood six, seven months. A year at the most. I really can't remember now. And at the time the child was adventurous and yes I showed him a little about tracking and how to shoot-"

"Poach." MacLeod corrected.

"You want to quibble over definitions?" Methos asked, raising a brow in challenge.

Deciding not to invite an argument just yet, MacLeod let the topic go as he concentrated on something else. "So how did you meet McKellen?"

"He," Methos said with heavy emphasis as he stoked Nefertiri's head. "..he was one of the Sheriffs cousins."

"A cousin?" MacLeod frowned baffled. "But how?"

"I don't know! I didn't stop to trade life stories with him." Methos said in heavy sarcasm, really starting to enjoy himself now. "But I assume he just killed the real cousin and took his place. The Sheriff, Robert De Renoult, was not known for being a good judge of character. Or for his intelligence."

"But-"

Seeing the Highlander's righteous streak surge to the fore, Methos buried his smile and tried to look attentive. "In those days taking a new identity was as simple as sticking a knife in someone's chest and disposing of the body."

"What!" MacLeod said shocked.

"Not that I ever did that." Methos added hastily, attempting to look suitably horrified at the idea and battling to kill his grin. God, but MacLeod was too easy. And refreshingly naive. This was going to be fun. "I was just trying to make an honest living-"

"By poaching the King's deer?!" MacLeod reminded him not sure if he wanted to encourage the man across from him or not. There were layers under that mischievous smile that frightened and aroused him.

"Everyone had to eat." Methos shot back. "It was a respectable living outside of Nottingham. Besides, I was thinking of settling in Loxley. Gweneth's father was making noises about inviting me into the family, so to speak. And I needed a place to regroup for a while."

"You were planning to marry?"

"It has its advantages, Highlander." Methos told him, smiling wickedly as he remembered how he had taught Robin the advantage of strategy and preparation. Everyone was at the crusades, and he didn't much care for war as the Saracens had a tendency to behead opponents. Shaking himself he looked back at the Highlander. "But any peace I had hoped to gain was destroyed by McKellen."

"So what happened?" MacLeod persisted, moving a little closer and watching how Adam sighed in mild exasperation. "What did McKellen do?"

"Back then he was using the name David De Renoult, and he was part of the Sheriff's inner court. A cousin-" Methos waved the term aside as he thought back, finding that he could remember the time easily and that it was not accompanied with the pain most memories accumulated. "The Sheriff was a young man, but ambitious from what I can recall and he was always open to new ideas of gaining more wealth. His brother was a Priest and between the two of them they kept all the villagers in Sherwood poor."

"And McKellen was helping that bastard." MacLeod grumbled, picturing the deranged Scot in such a setting.

"Your McKellen was doing very well out of it," Methos quipped. Then seeing MacLeod's murderous expression, hastily added, "..but not for long."

"So you exposed him to the Sheriff?"

"No." Methos sighed, settling his gaze on the passionate Highlander in front of him. To have so many firm, unshakable convictions was refreshing and he deliberately let his smile grow, noting how MacLeod blinked a little dazed. "I'd heard the decree about the Sheriff's plan to raise new taxes, but hadn't given it much thought. Until the day McKellen came into the village I was living in with the Sheriff's Guards to collect the tax. I was working outside the Mill when they rode in and he completely took me by surprise. It had been years since I'd felt another Immortal - my senses were dull and De Renoult had a sword at my throat before I could retrieve my own blade. He then arrested me for poaching." Watching MacLeod's expression change from interest into anger, Methos shrugged. "He was right, but he had no proof and when the Miller stood up in my defense McKellen clubbed him to the ground with the hilt of his sword and then ordered his Guards to search the village for weapons and valuables. I was chained and dragged back to Nottingham and thrown into one of the lower dungeons." Absently petting Nefertiri, Methos shivered, remembering the rats, the dampness and coldness, the insane peasants inhabiting the darkness of the cell and the panic of being weaponless. "After the first night of being locked in the dungeon the Sheriff himself came down to view me and he told me that his cousin recommended that I be beheaded for my crimes. Those crimes by now had escalated from poaching to murder of the Sheriff's Guards." Methos pulled a pained expression. "It seems the Guards escorting David De Renoult to Nottingham had been murdered by an outlaw and I was now the logical choice to blame."

"Neat." MacLeod grunted, recognizing McKellen's deviousness all over the ploy. "So they were going to behead you?"

"My sentence was to be carried out the following afternoon in the square as a deterrent for other would be outlaws."

"How could they convict you without a trial or even witnesses?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Highlander, those times were different."

"I know, but still.... the Sheriff was supposed to uphold the law!"

Chucking slightly Methos shook his head in delight. The more he learned about Duncan MacLeod the more he wanted to know. Darius was right. "The point is moot." Methos informed the outraged Highlander. "As it was, McKellen came and released me later that night when the castle was quiet and he covertly led me out into the forest. He said our dispute was not for mortal eyes - a point with which I agreed. He then threw me a small dagger and told be to defend myself."

"A dagger?"

"I was wearing rags, or what the guards had left me, he was dressed in leathers with a sword and that was his idea of a fair challenge." Methos scoffed, then grinned, his senses suddenly filling with the woodland smells of the forest. The foliage and dampness of the leaves under his feet, the freshness of pine and night blossom....

---

Circa 12th century. Sherwood Forest, England.

"I challenge you, dog. Stand up and fight like an honorable man!" McKellen - alias David De Renoult - snarled at his opponent.

Picking himself up off the damp ground, Methos absently brushed the leaves and dirt from his thin, threadbare clothing and glared at the insolent man before him. "Oh that's good coming from a coward like you, De Renoult. Or whatever your real name is." Methos snapped back. "First you have me wrongly imprisoned, then sentenced to a beheading and now you challenge a weaponless man! And you name me dishonorable?"

Growling under his breath, De Renoult loosened his own short dagger and tossed it at his opponent's feet. "Pick it up, peasant, and defend yourself before you die."

Keeping his eyes on De Renoult, Methos crouched down and picked up the dagger, weighing it in his hand. "So you kill me out here and take my head. What will you tell the Sheriff in the morning?"

"That you escaped and that I tracked you and was forced to kill you before you brought more outlaws against Nottingham." De Renoult informed him flatly, stepping around his opponent's figure as he leveled his sword on the patiently waiting man. "No doubt I will be rewarded for my valiant bravery."

"No doubt." Methos muttered in disgust. "There's only one small problem."

"What?!?" De Renoult hissed.

Not bothering to answer that, Methos swiveled around, using his borrowed dagger to protect his wrist as he spun into De Renoult's sword arm, using the momentum to stun the other man in the gut with a vicious jab of his elbow before capturing the man's sword. Then he was driving the blade into De Renoult's gut. "I don't think I'm going to be the one the Sheriff will behead." Methos whispered harshly into De Renoult's ear. Stepping back, he released De Renoult's trapped arm and let the man slide down onto the ground before he pulled the sword free. Crouching down over De Renoult's gasping figure, Methos gave a nasty smile. "Tell me how does the Sheriff reward betrayal and desertion?"

Opening his mouth to protest, De Renoult could get no sound out as the pain in his abdomen crippled all responses.

Pretending to think, Methos laughed, bending down to grip De Renoult's arm and drag the man back to sit him up against a tree. Then using his borrowed dagger he plunged it into De Renoult's shoulder, pinning the man to the tree effectively. "You know, I think I'll go and pay the Sheriff's treasury a visit. I could use some travelling funds. In return for the Sheriff's kind nature, I'll leave him your sword - in the treasury - as a thank you for all his hospitality."

"No-" De Renoult gasped, reaching up to grip his opponents ripped tunic. "Please...."

Shoving the hand aside, Methos wiped the sword on De Renoult's leathers and studied the hilt, noting the De Renoult crest and family stone set deep into the metal. "I doubt the Sheriff will be amused when he finds your sword. I imagine he will send out guards."

"I-I beg...."

"Begging is good, but I don't think you have the temperament to make a good slave." Methos said sarcastically, patting De Renoult's cheek condescendingly before standing. "If I were you, I'd leave Sherwood. Fast."

---

Present.

"You just walked away?" MacLeod stated aghast, shaking himself for Taylor's voice had been mesmerizing. Connor had taught him never to walk away from an opponent, especially if the Immortal was capable of seeking revenge.

"His Quickening didn't interest me, and a body was useless to my plans. It was better if the Sheriff was hunting De Renoult than me."

"So you stole the taxes and left his sword."

"Yes." Methos nodded.

"And you used the money to travel?"

Pinning the Highlander with his gaze, Methos could easily read the disbelief behind that question and almost nodded. In the end he pushed aside his perverse sense of humor and sighed. "No," he admitted begrudgingly. "I gave most of the gold to the old Miller for I knew he would distribute it to those who most needed it."

"You also owed him." MacLeod countered, so glad Adam had answered the way he did.

"Yes, I owed him." Methos growled, miffed. He hated the way MacLeod had to justify everything. That sort of trait could be very limiting and dangerous. "I owed Gweneth."

"And Robin?"

"He had my bow and hunting knife - I didn't stay." Methos dismissed, not wanting to discuss it any further. "I left."

"So now McKellen has a vendetta." MacLeod finished. "McKellen doesn't take rejection or losing well."

"Do any of us?" Methos asked very quietly before he shook himself out of the introspective mood. Why he had told the Highlander a piece of his past was beyond him. He must be totally deranged.

"How old are you?"

"What?" Methos blinked over at his guest a little surprised. This was not a question you normally asked another Immortal. But then MacLeod was no ordinary Immortal.

"How old are you?" MacLeod asked again very softly as he watched the way the afternoon light highlighted this man's pale features. It was entrancing, especially as the long fingers absently raked through Adam's long fringe before his hair fell back again to shadow his eyes.

"Old enough not to answer that, but young enough to still enjoy life."

It was no answer, as oblique as the man in front of him and MacLeod found that he was returning Adam's mischievous smile with interest. It had been a long time since anyone had captured his attention like Adam Taylor did. A very very long time, and MacLeod wondered at the man's sexual orientation. Yet from the heated glances he was receiving he doubted this man was a stranger to pleasure, or blind to the building attraction he felt growing between them. Just as well.

"So where are your shadows?" Methos asked teasingly, starting to relax more while he slowly laced his fingers through Nefertiri's fur. She was purring contentedly, warming his lap and he saw how MacLeod's eyes kept darting down to his hands. To his legs.... and he deliberately stretched them out a bit more.

"I left them at the Mayfair." Saying that, MacLeod glanced at his watch and groaned. He'd been gone over an hour and unless he wanted Bodie and Doyle to come barging in here he'd best get back, for he wanted to keep his association with Adam completely private. The last thing he wanted was for the man to get spooked by the double act he'd been lumbered with. Sugar and Spice. "I should be getting back before they start to worry."

"Oh, I see, you sneaked out." Methos grinned delighted. MacLeod had slipped out to visit him? Now this was special!

Seeing the changeable eyes widen, MacLeod leaned forward and tapped Adam on the nose. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"Yes MacLeod." Methos intoned, shivering at the brief contact and the deepening sexy tone. It was the first time they had touched and it sent his anticipation sky rocketing.

Pleased, MacLeod stood and took out a hotel card, scribbling his room number on the back. "This is were I am staying. If you need anything, call me."

Removing the warmth from his lap, Methos found himself accepting the card as he followed MacLeod to the door. It seemed it was his day for revelations. First to have Doyle on his doorstep with a card and now MacLeod. "I doubt I'll need anything, and before you say it, I am more than capable of fighting my own battles." He added, forestalling the protest he saw hovering in the Scot's eyes. Shit, but he was lost already and they barely knew each other.

"Maybe not." MacLeod growled, opening the door and pausing to regard the slender man with warmth. "You might just want to visit. I plan to be in London for a while yet." He left the invitation hanging between them, gratified when he saw Taylor blink at him before a very faint flush stained the pale skin. It was extremely enticing. Taking one final look at the alluring male, MacLeod let his smile grow before he left the room and closed the door behind him. Striding down the corridor, he let a laugh escape feeling light footed and happy for the first time in many many years. A sense of freedom, that not even the knowledge of McKellen's threatening presence could dampen. For now he finally had a goal, a promise to look forward to and savor.

---

Climbing back in the window of his Mayfair room, MacLeod was not surprised to find two very disgruntled CI5 agents waiting to greet him. Bodie was glaring at him with gun in hand, while Doyle was on the R/T, probably calling off the search.

"Where the hell have you been!?" Bodie demanded as he debated the advantages of shooting his assignment, yet again. With a bullet wound MacLeod would be in protective custody or tied to a hospital bed. Either way it would end all the hassles and dramas. On the other hand Cowley would be livid.

"I went for a walk," MacLeod said with complete guilelessness.

"Out the bloody window!"

"I wanted some privacy."

"Shit!" Bodie snarled as he lowered his gun. "I ought to shoot you."

"Bodie." Doyle intervened, gesturing his partner away from MacLeod. He spoke quietly to him. "8.1 just picked him up on return. He doesn't seem to have a tail."

"So did you find what you were looking for?" Bodie snarled impatiently, turning back to MacLeod and ignoring his partner's silent warning.

"I just went for a walk," MacLeod repeated.

"And McKellen?"

"Didn't see him." MacLeod said honestly. "I'm going to have a scotch, do you both want one?"

About to reply, both agents stilled as a knock sounded on the front door. Moving towards it, Bodie had his gun out again while Doyle cast a curious glance at their annoying charge. He saw MacLeod's hand go instantly inside his coat, like a reflex action and he frowned. Then Bodie took his attention as his partner turned back to MacLeod.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

"Noh." MacLeod said, a serious edge coloring his tone. The buzz in his head warned of another Immortal and if he had to face McKellen he didn't want to involve these two men, it was too dangerous.

"No room service or blond piece?"

"Noh." MacLeod repeated as he eyes darkened in displeasure. He was fleetingly tempted to hand Bodie over to McKellen.

Dropping the banter, Bodie hastily checked the spyhole and saw a sandy-haired man glaring back at him. A real personality plus case, Bodie noted wryly before opening the door and keeping his gun ready incase trouble erupted. Bracing himself, Bodie sized up the visitor standing in the corridor as ice blue eyes studied him in return. "Can I help you?" Bodie asked in a very unhelpful tone.

"You are not Duncan."

"Great." Bodie groaned hearing the faint Scottish accent when the hard eyes challenged him to hide the truth. Another bloody Scotsman. "It's for you." Bodie said in an aside to MacLeod. "Old home week or something?"

Stepping past the dark-haired agent, MacLeod grabbed his visitor in a bear hug, delighted to see him. "Connor!"

"Hello boyo," Connor said in his dry drawl, before he laughed softly and eyed his cousin up and down.

"What are you doing here?" MacLeod demanded as he pulled Connor into the room and ignored his two watchdogs with ease.

"Was in London and ran into Amanda."

"Ran into Amanda?" MacLeod repeated in disbelief. That was unlikely.

"She told me you were here." Connor said before his eyes swept over the two Englishmen. Switching to Gaelic he muttered to Duncan. "What is going on?"

Speaking in Gaelic also, MacLeod shook his head, thinking it was more likely Amanda had contacted Connor and asked him to visit. It was so like her to interfere. "They work for the London Criminal Intelligence Unit, they're my bodyguards would you believe."

"Why?" Connor asked still in their native tongue.

"An old family friend is in town, he's got a record and they think he's stalking me. They hope to arrest him-"

"Immortal?"

"Aye-"

"And you've involved mortals?" Connor asked incredulously as his eyes told Duncan exactly what he thought of that. "Are you crazy!?!"

"Noh!" MacLeod defended, still in Gaelic. "They staked me out, and getting rid of them now is extremely hard."

"Who's the Immortal?"

"McKellen."

"Hey!" Bodie interrupted picking up on that name and eyeing the two Scots with annoyance. He hated it when people withheld information, spoke behind his back or mumbled in unintelligible languages. It was damn rude. Besides that had been no Welsh or Gaelic he'd ever heard before. Or any other Scottish dialect he was familiar with. He wasn't quiet sure what it was. "Do you want to introduce us, or do we need to haul your friend down town for Cowley's pleasure?"

Sighing in exasperation, MacLeod gritted his teeth. "See what I mean?" He said in an aside to Connor, then switched back to English. "Mr. Bodie and Mr. Doyle of CI5." Giving them a forced smile he gestured to Connor. "A distant relative."

"Relative?"

"Nash." Connor said as he bestowed a humorless smile on both agents. "John Nash."

Filing that away, Doyle's eyes became suspicious, for he'd seen the way Nash had stood when Bodie had opened the door. Like MacLeod he'd had one hand inside his coat. On a sword perhaps? Another Goddamn Immortal? Was the bloody world full of these devious creatures? Or was he just imagining things?

"Duncan?" Connor turned back to his cousin and gave him a strained smile.

"Excuse us." MacLeod offered politely as he walked into the kitchen area, reverting to Gaelic out of habit as he heard Connor mutter something uncomplimentary under his breath. Eyeing the two agents MacLeod noted that Doyle had pulled out his R/T and he dreaded to think what the smart man was doing now. Or what George Cowley would make of this.

"What's going on Duncan?" Connor asked in their native tongue.

"I ran into McKellen in Paris and followed him here. Only I didn't know Interpol was tracking him. That led to the involvement of CI5-" he gestured helplessly to the two men standing a discreet distance away. Doyle was still talking into his radio while Bodie just glared at them both. "Then yesterday while I was at an auction I ran into McKellen again, only there was a third Immortal there."

"Who?"

"Adam Taylor." MacLeod said, both hoping Connor did and did not know the name. Adam was his little bubble of security and he didn't want any nasty surprises. Not now.

"Never heard of him." Connor said in his usual deadpan way. "Describe him."

"A little shorter than me, lean, dark hair. Sounds English."

"No," Connor shook his head. "Did this Taylor challenge McKellen?"

Shaking his head, MacLeod sighed as he vividly recalled the events. Could see it in his mind when McKellen had pulled a gun and shot Adam. Remembered how Adam had crumpled and grunted in pain. "McKellen recognized Taylor and called him Loxley. Then McKellen shot Taylor and I challenged McKellen. Taylor never even pulled a sword."

Frowning Connor turned away rubbing his lower lip. "Loxley?"

"Apparently they have a history-"

"The name Loxley goes back to the 12th century," Connor said as he considered this. "Unless I am mistaken."

"Noh, you are not mistaken." MacLeod admitted remembering what Adam had told him that afternoon.

"This Loxley said nothing else?"

"I got the impression he wasn't interested in a challenge." MacLeod added, wondering how many of his judgments were clouded by his personal interest in Adam Taylor. With a start, MacLeod realized Taylor had to be at least as old as Amanda.... It was not something he had consciously connected before and it made him both nervous and excited. Old and seductive, and MacLeod shivered, seeing how Connor eyed him worriedly. "Adam Taylor is currently studying at the Oxford University."

"And that is where you last saw McKellen?" Connor asked shrewdly.

"Aye."

"Then that is where McKellen will go," Connor judged.

"But," getting concerned, all MacLeod could think about was that Adam would be in danger again. Shit, if he had led McKellen to the university.... he would not forgive himself if McKellen went after Adam because of him. "Why?"

"Why?" Connor asked as he looked at his cousin thinking Duncan was really not thinking. He had this dazed look in his eyes, and Connor contemplated what else had happened that his cousin was not telling him about. Amanda's message to him had not been very informative except to tell him Duncan was being hunted and that he was brooding and searching for stability again. Always a worry in an Immortal. How many friends had he lost because of loneliness? "Duncan?"

"I have to warn Adam-"

"He's Immortal." Connor reminded him pointedly. "His battle."

"But I led McKellen to him," MacLeod explained. "Connor, I got the impression Adam hasn't participated in the Game for years."

"His problem, cousin." Connor repeated flatly not liking this reckless thinking in his old student. "Watch your own head-"

"Aye." MacLeod breathed. "But I still have to warn him."

"Just remember, that mongrel McKellen is mine." Connor told him in a savage whisper. "I do not want you involved."

"And Adam?"

"Not interested unless he challenges me."

Knowing Connor was right MacLeod still felt shocked. "He won't-"

"Get rid of the mortals, before they get killed, Duncan, this is not for their eyes."

Glancing again at the two agents who looked less than thrilled, MacLeod just nodded his agreement.

Reaching out Connor dragged his cousin and old student into a hug, patting his back before turning away. He ignored the two agents as he went to the door and left silently.

Knowing his cousin was going to hunt McKellen, MacLeod lifted his eyes and met two sets of suspicious stares. He did not have time for explanations, right now his gut was telling him to warn Adam. To get back to the University and find his new friend and warn him before McKellen tracked him down. Reaching for the phone, his fingers paused over the numbers wondering who to ring at Oxford and what to say. Noh, it would be better if he went to Adam personally, forced him to see the danger. Removed him personally before Connor turned up there. Bring him back here to the Mayfair, and MacLeod stopped that thought wondering at his own hidden agendas behind that appealing notion. Still, he had to try, for Adam's sake and for his own sanity. Even though the other had produced a sword, MacLeod would feel better if the other man was away from Oxford until McKellen was found. Replacing the handset, he ignored Bodie's disproving scowl as he followed in Connor's wake and went to the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bodie asked as he shoved the door shut and glared at MacLeod. "You know since we were put on the case Doyle, we've had nothing but interference and stall tactics." He said to his partner as he kept his eyes trained on the frowning Scot. "I'm starting to think that we are protecting the wrong person."

"Frustrating I agree." Doyle said mildly as he went to stand with his partner and give MacLeod an uncompromising look. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think we should haul his arse back to Cowley." Bodie threatened. "Make him tell us the whole bloody truth!"

Raising his hands MacLeod sighed. "Look, I just want to-"

"Go for another walk?" Bodie finished for him sarcastically.

"This does not concern yew." MacLeod hissed getting exasperated by their interference. They had no idea.... "This is outside yewr jurisdiction!" Swinging his eyes around he saw how Doyle frowned, and prayed the curly- haired agent believed him as he'd given up on making the sharp tongued Bodie understand anything.

Hearing those words, Doyle was sharply reminded of Taylor and his quiet words, which had hinted at the same thing. Only Taylor had gone further and stated that it would cost them their lives if they interfered. His and Bodie's lives.

"Wrong sunshine!" Bodie snapped. "Until Cowley tells me otherwise your carcass is mine. Now what did your 'relative' have to say?"

"Nothing."

"It was a pretty intense exchange for nothing. Don't you agree Doyle?"

"John Nash." Doyle quoted. "Millionaire, much like yourself. Must be a family trait." He added with bored interest. "Nash came into London a week ago according to the dispatchers."

"Do you track everyone?" MacLeod asked appalled.

"Why, got something to hide?" Bodie asked pointedly.

"Noh-"

"Then answer the bloody question!"

"Look," MacLeod forestalled other comments, hearing the sarcasm and admitting it was not their fault. "This really does not concern CI5. Now I am not your prisoner and I am going out whether you like it or not."

"We'll drive you."

"I'd prefer to take the hotel limousine." MacLeod cut back. "You can follow." With that he pushed Bodie's hand away and yanked the door open, seething. He didn't have time for this, Connor was right in that assumption. This had nothing to do with mortals. He had to get rid of them for their own safety. Had to find Adam before McKellen did and he definitely did not want an audience when he talked to Adam again. Only he was stopped short as he came face to face with a young courier who was in the process of raising a hand to knock on his door. MacLeod wasn't sure who was more startled. Him, the courier or Bodie.

"Mr. MacLeod?"

"Aye?" MacLeod growled, before his eyes fell on the package. Damn, but this would be the auction piece he'd bought yesterday.

"I have a delivery-"

"Let me." Bodie intervened and MacLeod rolled his eyes.

"It's just the book I bought yesterday Mr. Bodie." MacLeod informed him as he reached over to sign for the parcel.

"Can never be too careful." Bodie advised as he carefully felt the parcel over, looking for wires.

Taking out his wallet MacLeod paid the courier and swiped the parcel off the CI5 agent. "You can stay and inspect it all you like just don't get food on the pages. It is worth a small fortune." He ended with a twisted smile before exiting the room.

Grumbling under his breath, Bodie turned to Doyle. "This is not working! I swear Doyle, Cowley or no Cowley I'm gonna shoot that arrogant son of a bitch!"

"Easy-"

"How can you put up with his shit!? By the way he treats us you would think we're the enemy."

"Come on," Doyle just said as he preceded his angry partner out of the room. "I don't want to be the one to explain to the Cow how we lost his precious countryman."

Swearing again, Bodie slammed the door behind him and he followed Doyle's trim figure down the stairs. Could the day get any worse?

---

Not giving Taylor time to answer the door, MacLeod tried the handle and found it was still unlocked and he re- entered the room he had been in a few short hours ago.

"MacLeod!?" Methos released the grip he had on his sword and eyed the man who'd entered his room without knocking. It was definitely time he moved.

"You have to get out of here." MacLeod started as he checked the corridor one final time before shutting the door.

"What?" Methos approached his visitor, mildly glad to see the Scotsman again, but in all honesty he had not planned on seeing MacLeod for a few days. He needed the distance to get his desires under control. Vaguely he wondered who MacLeod's Watcher was. Damn, but it had been over a hundred years since he'd been in the Watchers and he had to assume their methods had improved in this technological age.

"McKellen." MacLeod said the single word as if it should explain everything. Noticing how the expressive eyes narrowed as Adam moved closer, MacLeod sucked in a breath really liking what he was seeing.

"What about McKellen?" Methos asked mystified. Had the Scottish flob found the big Scot, and had MacLeod taken his head? Putting his sword away, Methos kept his eyes on MacLeod seeing how the other looked torn between worry and desire. Oh goody....

"He's coming here. For you." MacLeod said simply.

"What?" Methos stopped and just looked at MacLeod like the man had sprouted three heads.

"Connor believes-"

"Connor?" Methos interrupted him as he started to get a sinking sensation in his gut. Fuck! He knew there was a damn good reason why he avoided Immortals. Especially one's as dynamic as Duncan MacLeod.

"Connor MacLeod-"

Oh bloody hell....

"..my cousin-"

"I know him, MacLeod." Methos informed him tiredly. Didn't he just! Had images of Connor from five, six hundred years ago and he doubted the man's temperament had changed any.

"You do?" MacLeod stopped what he was going to say as he latched onto that. He watched Adam raise a hand and rub his eyes. "How?"

"What did the venerable Connor MacLeod say?"

Noting the evasion again, MacLeod was prevented from answering as someone knocked on the door behind him.

"Shit," Methos muttered, this was all he needed now. Some student asking to borrow a book, or the floor coordinator complaining again about his number of off-campus visitors.... Pushing past MacLeod, he opened the door and just closed his eyes, groaning. Fuck!

"Hello," Doyle said politely, hiding his grin and seeing Taylor's eyes darken in annoyance. "This is my partner Bodie, and we were hoping you could help us with our inquiries. We are looking for a Duncan MacLeod." Doyle said needlessly, pulling out a photograph and knowing Taylor wouldn't even glance at it, noting how the green eyes just narrowed and sent him a silent warning. "Have you seen him?"

Shifting his eyes to Doyle's partner, Methos wasn't sure if he wanted to hit Doyle or give him what he wanted. But he was saved the choice as MacLeod swore behind him and moved to stand at his shoulder. The heat of MacLeod's body pressing deliciously along his back, sent a shiver through him and Methos glared even harder at Doyle. What an infuriating little Greek comedy this was turning into....

"Surprise, surprise," Bodie muttered as he went to push the door wider open.

"Now listen here," Methos started to protest as both agents skillfully forced their way into his room. He saw Nefertiri jump out of the way and make a hasty exit and wished he could do the same.

"This is Adam Taylor." Doyle said needlessly to Bodie as he gestured absently at the dark-haired student who was glaring at him. Bodie hadn't formally met Taylor and he saw how his partner expertly swept his eyes over the youngish looking man. If only Bodie knew. But his partner was more interested in MacLeod.

"I wasn't aware that you were acquainted with the victim of yesterdays shooting?" Bodie stated, homing in on MacLeod. "I'm sure Mr. Cowley will find that fact extremely interesting."

"Will you cut the bullshit!" MacLeod snapped. "I'm trying to save lives here!"

"Oh that's rich!"

"What lives?" Doyle asked as he concentrated on that, remembering that Taylor had identified MacLeod as one of the 'good guys'.

"You wouldn't understand," MacLeod muttered, seeing how Taylor glared firstly at him then at Doyle.

"Try us." Bodie snarled, getting to the point of really having enough of this Scot.

Watching the scene unfold around him, Doyle had the strong suspicion MacLeod was telling the truth. He got the impression that regardless of the man's attitude, MacLeod honestly wanted to avoid trouble.

Cursing in Gaelic, MacLeod noted how Adam had folded his arms in displeasure and he bemoaned the fact that he had probably lost the man's trust. That knowledge only increased his anger at Bodie. So about to tell him to get lost, MacLeod froze as he felt the strong wash of presence surge up his spine a second time and he darted a quick look at Taylor and saw that the other Immortal had backed up towards his hidden sword. But who was he feeling? Connor or McKellen?

Noting the way both men tensed, Doyle shifted his shrewd eyes between Taylor and MacLeod, seeing MacLeod's hand go inside his coat again. Getting a sick feeling about this, Doyle acted on pure instinct and shoved his partner away from the door. "Down!"

"Ray!?!" Bodie protested as he fell against the desk, grunting in pain even as three gun shots rang out and peppered the door. "Christ!"

"Shit!" Doyle cursed, rolling to one side and pulling out his Browning, prepared to fire when the door was kicked open. He got a quick glimpse of McKellen before MacLeod was stupidly stepping in his line of fire. "Get down!" He shouted, feeling Bodie scrambling to his feet behind him.

"MacLeod!" McKellen roared as he leveled his sword on the other man and stepped back into the corridor. "I should have guessed." He snarled. "You've come for Loxley's head as well?"

"Noh. Yewrs!!" MacLeod growled, pacing after the demented Scotsman. This was the last thing he had wanted, because witnesses always complicated matters. But now that he had McKellen in his sights again he was determined not to lose the bastard.

"Bloody hell," Bodie hissed, scrambling to the door and leaning out to check the corridor. He saw MacLeod and McKellen fighting, both with swords as they danced away down the wide hallway. "I feel like I've entered the twilight zone."

"Me too, mate." Doyle agreed, automatically checking all vantage points. Swiftly he searched for Taylor and saw him pulling on a long coat, just catching the flash of polished silver before the other turned away.

"Cover me." Bodie hissed.

"Wait!" Doyle cautioned his partner remembering Taylor's words. Could they interfere? Would it accomplish anything except getting his partner killed? And that was definitely the last thing he wanted. He would not willingly risk Bodie's life on something preventable.

"What?" Bodie turned to Doyle incredulously. "I don't much like Kilt Boy either, but Cowley will have our guts if we don't get McKellen."

Knowing Bodie was right, yet still hesitating, Doyle found the events of earlier paling when faced with reality again. "On three."

"One, two-" Bodie mouthed immediately preparing to launch out of the cramped room.

"McKellen!"

Stopping mid word, both agents rolled out into the corridor to see John Nash not only stride past them unconcerned by their presence, but walk up to the two fighters and hiss something in a strange tongue at McKellen. Then McKellen was turning and running with Nash giving chase before MacLeod followed in hot pursuit. All three rapidly disappeared down the far end fire escape stairs.

"Shit!" Getting up, Bodie swore again as he pulled out his R/T, yelling for backup. Quickly he met Doyle's eyes indicating with a gesture what he was going to do and saw Doyle nod. Then he was racing off down the corridor after the three fleeing men.

Going in the opposite way, Doyle went down the steps, working to cut off all exits while he circled around from behind. It was a ploy he and Bodie had used many times to their advantage. Only this time he just prayed he found them before Bodie did, because he had a very bad feeling about this.

---

Glancing out into the now deserted corridor, Methos swore in four different languages before he leaned back against the door jam and breathed out slowly. There went his life - plus his normal existence and his identity. If the Watchers didn't have him after this, CI5 would, and he liked that idea even less. Running a dismissive glance over his room, he mourned the loss of what he had set up as he hastily grabbed up a bag and shoved essential items into it. His journals, papers, some clothing, passports, books and money. He just could not believe how quickly events had gotten out of control. Twenty-four hours ago his life was set. His plans made, his studies almost complete. And now he was thrust back into the Game by one very attractive, yet over-powering Scot. Was losing his head worth the attraction? No.... he told himself harshly, looking down as he felt a warmth against his shin. Nefertiri blinked up at him with wide-eyed innocence and he smiled. What was he to do with her? Then as if reading his thoughts, she jumped into his partially open bag and did a full circle before settling on a rolled up sweater. "Nef, sweetheart, you can't...." he trailed off feeling the unmistakable surge of presence engulf him again. "Oh shit!" Spinning around he gripped the hilt of his sword inside his coat and faced the door in apprehension. Duncan MacLeod, McKellen or the irascible Connor MacLeod?

"You're packed. Good." Duncan MacLeod said as he entered the open door with no preliminaries. Apart from being a little breathless MacLeod looked to be in one piece.

"Fuck off, MacLeod." Methos snapped, relieved yet exasperated at the same time. Removing his hand from his coat he leaned back against the table. For one awful minute he thought it might have been McKellen.

"We haven't got much time-"

"MacLeod, didn't you hear me?"

"Aye." MacLeod nodded. "But you'll be safer with me."

"Safer?!?" Methos asked incredulously as he gave a harsh laugh.

"Aye," MacLeod said again letting his eyes speak for him, seeing how Taylor frowned now.

"I was safe until you turned up here yesterday." Methos pointed out bluntly.

"McKellen will be back-"

"I don't doubt!" He snarled back. "Look," Methos stopped, seeing Doyle appear with gun still in hand as the agent breathed out heavily. It looked like he'd been running hard, his sharp green eyes missed nothing.

"Thought you might come back here." Doyle said to MacLeod as he pulled out his R/T and spoke into it.

"Oh Great!" Methos cursed and glared at MacLeod in open accusation, gesturing wildly towards Doyle. This was all he needed and wanted. He was going to get dragged into the Highlander's circus-like existence if he didn't escape now.

Ignoring that, MacLeod just reached for Adam's packed bag, wanting to go before either Connor or McKellen returned. He had all the confidence in his cousin, but knew how crafty McKellen was and knew Connor had lost the bastard before in the past. So he figured both Immortals would return here if they got separated and he wanted Adam gone.

"Do you mind!" Methos snapped, taking his bag off MacLeod. He was being railroaded and he hated it.

"Cowley's sending two more teams."

Turning at the new voice, MacLeod groaned inwardly, seeing Bodie slide up to his partner and look just as pissed off.

"Found MacLeod." Doyle said conversationally while he gestured to the men inside the room. "And Taylor."

"What about McKellen?" Bodie asked as he eyed the occupants of the room with a quick appraisal.

"Nope." Doyle admitted.

"Nash?" Bodie asked hopefully.

Doyle just shook his head.

"Tell me you have a lead?"

"Sorry mate."

"Brilliant." Bodie grumbled as he eyed his partner in disbelief.

"You?" Doyle asked, putting his gun away.

"Ran into band practice or something just as daft." Bodie muttered in disgust. "Got a sprained tambourine."

"So," Doyle left the rest hanging as his R/T sounded.

"Cowley." Bodie mouthed the name and pulled a face as he also returned his gun to its holster under his jacket.

"Do you want to tell him, or me?"

"Oh definitely you, mate." Bodie assured.

"But I'm not his blue eyed boy-"

Rolling his eyes at that, Bodie walked back into Taylor's room and left Doyle to deal with Cowley as he cast MacLeod a disapproving glare. "Are you ready to tell us what is really going on yet?"

"Nothing to tell-"

"Pull the other one." Bodie cut him off. "But you can start by explaining why you came back here."

"To warn Taylor." MacLeod said easily, ignoring the warning glance Adam gave him. This could work to his advantage he decided suddenly and gave Bodie a helpful smile. "I remembered that McKellen hates to leave witnesses, so guessed he would return here to find Taylor. So I wanted to warn him."

Not believing a word of it, Bodie swung his gaze from MacLeod's open expression to Taylor's disgruntled one. He didn't know Taylor from any mug shots, but had the strange feeling he couldn't trust him any more than he could trust MacLeod. "You expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth." MacLeod said in feigned shocked.

Shaking his head, Bodie turned back to his partner as Doyle ambled over.

"'He' says we are to get Mr. MacLeod back to the Mayfair then go in to make our report." Doyle informed his partner in a tense tone. "Personally."

"What about Taylor?" Bodie asked, seeing Doyle shrug. About to say something more he just caught the glance between the two men and wondered at it. Ray still hadn't filled him in on all that Taylor had told him earlier.

"He's coming with me." MacLeod injected as he braced himself for a fight. He was just relieved that no one had been shot or killed this time and prayed he could keep it that way.

"Now listen here-"

"I agree," Doyle broke in and sent a look of 'trust me' to his partner.

Not believing Doyle would agree with MacLeod, Bodie seethed, promising himself to get some answers out of his other half as soon as he got him alone. Having MacLeod withhold information was one thing, but he would not tolerate it from his partner. Honesty was too important. It meant their lives.

"Now hold on," Methos protested, making another swipe for his bag and missing as MacLeod picked it up again. But it was the pleased little grin that graced the Scot's mouth that startled him the most for it promised all sorts of unimaginable things.

"I'm sorry," MacLeod said quietly to Adam before he motioned towards the two CI5 men. "But you will be safer with me."

"Mac," Methos sucked in a breath, hesitating and catching the small affectionate smile that lit MacLeod's handsome face. Was it because he had given in or said something amusing? Of all the rotten luck and timings....

"I'll explain later, mate," Doyle said in aside to Bodie, though just how he was going to explain the labyrinth of confusion circling in his mind was beyond him. Only thing he did understand was that whatever John Nash had said to MacLeod earlier in the hotel room, that information had led then all back to Taylor, which had led them to McKellen. So if Taylor was a target, then he wanted the smug bastard were he could watch him.

"Well you can explain it to the Cow!" Bodie said peeved before marching away.

"Thanks mate," Doyle mumbled as he indicated for both MacLeod and Taylor to precede him out of the room. Last thing he wanted was to argue with Bodie, or to get his partner in a right Irish temper.

Swearing under his breath, Methos was left little choice as he was forced to follow the Scotsman. Leveling his eyes on the broad back he cursed the gods of Fate and Desire as he refused to look at Doyle and meet those questioning eyes.

---

Prowling around the penthouse suite, Methos wasn't sure if he wanted to be angry, intrigued or amused. It had been a while since he had indulged in such luxury, and that tilted his mood towards the peeved end again as he remembered what he was jeopardizing. For the last twenty years he had played it safe, had set up a number of identities he could move into with ease and had concentrated on getting back into the Watchers. It was the safest place at present especially as they were moving into the new millenium in the next few decades. With the way technology was advancing he wanted all the information possible to safeguard his own head. Only now all his plans had gone to hell, for he was letting some barbarian lout influence his carefully setup strategies. Not that Duncan MacLeod was just any dumb Scottish mongrel. He was magnificent. All brute force and stubborn righteousness that made him shiver in wicked anticipation.

Sniffing slightly, Methos turned casually and eyed the man in question. MacLeod was just hanging up the phone having ordered them room service. Oh yes, he could definitely soak up the luxury, pretend to be offended and see how far MacLeod was willing to go to appease him. But this was so dangerous, because deep down he wanted to be here. Scary as that was, it was also true and he centered his gaze back on the Highlander. Currently the Scot was shrugging out of his coat while he argued with the tall dark-haired agent, Bodie. Methos wasn't sure about Bodie yet. Doyle he had pegged as an incurable romantic, a man shaped by society with an inbred drive for justice and truth, but Bodie was a challenge to his senses. The man was brash, loud and dogmatic. But Methos had also seen how he deferred to his partner, how he incorporated Raymond Doyle into everything he did, so Methos suspected the abrasive personality was a front. Or just a mood that the Highlander had inspired in the well-built agent. A feeling he could well understand.

Personally, Methos could admit that MacLeod drove him to distraction, while the Scot obviously drove Bodie into a rage and Doyle into a pensive mood. It was the last action that fascinated Methos and he studied the slender curly- haired agent with interest. He liked Ray Doyle. Really liked him and could sympathize with him, seeing Doyle wince at the argument Bodie and MacLeod were having yet again. Keeping his eyes pinned on Doyle, Methos held his breath watching the curly head lift as if Doyle sensed his gaze and he met those wary green eyes squarely. Cat eyes. It was like an electric shock as unspoken acknowledgement sped between them. In that instant he knew that Doyle understood the seriousness of this situation and knew that Doyle would never betray his trust. It warmed him and he gave the other man a small smile, glad when it was returned. But Methos also realized in that shared moment that Doyle would protect his partner. Bodie was the center of Doyle's world, the only person he had complete confidence and trust in amidst their dangerous lifestyle. It was startling, and Methos tried to school his expression wondering what the other man was picking up from his gaze.... and he slowly became aware of the deadly silence around him. Bodie and MacLeod had stopped baiting each other and were now glaring at Doyle and himself. Feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious, Methos broke the eye contact with the CI5 agent and narrowed his gaze to return MacLeod's stare. "Did I miss something?" He asked sarcastically.

The silence stretched for another prolonged second before Doyle's R/T sounded and the tension in the room broke.

"4.5." Doyle said promptly not looking at anyone while he concentrated on the mindless action of answering his call. He felt stripped by Adam Taylor's penetrating appraisal and re-evaluated the wisdom of not telling Cowley the unvarnished truth of what he had learned. Only problem was he had no evidence. No hard fact.... And Bodie was going to be royally pissed off with him - again!

"6.2." Came the slightly distorted reply. "All clear. We're on our way up."

"Understood. 4.5 out." Doyle ended as he forced a small smile. "Murph and Anderson."

"Good." Bodie said, sending his partner a hard, displeased look. Something was going on between Ray and Taylor and he wanted to know what it was. He hated being the last to learn the truth.

Shifting his gaze from Adam to Bodie again, MacLeod frowned. As much as agent Bodie riled him, the uncertainty that Adam fired through him was worse. What was going on? What did Raymond Doyle know that he didn't know? Hating the insecurity, MacLeod tensed slightly as a knock sounded on the door. His new watchdogs?

Lifting a hand, Bodie checked the door and then opened it, letting his expert eyes sweep the waiter dismissively. "Dinner." Bodie said in a clipped tone even as he heard the elevator sound. With luck it was their replacement for the night and he would be very glad to get away.

Just pointing to the table, MacLeod signed the docket as he saw two new agents enter his room. He was getting sick of this and turned away, not surprised to see the amusement on Adam's face. "I'm glad you are finding this so funny!"

"I'm just constantly amazed at the world you exist in," Methos returned with a sarcastic twist before he turned and ambled over to the table. If MacLeod insisted on feeding him he was going to make the most of the situation.

Watching the four men by the door, MacLeod went over to them. "Look, I'm sorry about this afternoon, but I would really appreciate some privacy."

Nodding their understanding, Murphy just did a complete round of the large apartment before nodding to MacLeod. "We will be outside if you need anything."

I doubt it. "Thank you." MacLeod said sincerely as he finally closed the door, refusing to listen to anymore of Bodie's muttered curses. Leaning against the door he settled his eyes on his guest and hypothesized how he was going to get information out of Adam Taylor.

---

Staring at the closed door, Bodie jerked an angry thumb at it. "Don't trust him, Murph."

"Relax," Murphy said in a gentle tone. "I've read the reports and he won't get out a window a second time." He raised a devise and grinned smugly.

"You bugged them?" Bodie asked in growing admiration.

"Sensor tapped them. If either one of them cowboys opens a window, we'll know." He assured as he heard Doyle chuckle. "You two had an interesting afternoon. The Cow wants you both before you knock off."

"What? Now?" Bodie asked incredulously.

"No, yesterday I think were his exact words."

"Strewth!" Doyle sighed. "Come on mate."

Grabbing hold of Doyle's arm to stop him retreating, Bodie looked at Murphy again. "Any leads on McKellen?"

"None." Murphy offered. "I don't know who this geezer is, but he'd give Houdini a run for his money."

"Nash?" Doyle asked as he felt Bodie's fingers relax their grip.

"Same. Cow's not amused."

"I bet." Bodie muttered as he turned and shoved Doyle away with mild affection. "Come on, goldilocks. I am so glad you told him that 'you' lost McKellen and Nash."

"Why you-"

Hearing Doyle's mock outrage as the two agents jostled each other before going through the fire escape door to the stairwell, Murphy shook his head and walked over to his temporary partner. He was so grateful he didn't have a permanent pairing, for it would drive him insane. Didn't know how Ray put up with Bodie in the first place.

---

Only picking at the food, Methos firstly glared at the fridge and then turned the glare on MacLeod, finding that its owner was watching him openly. It sent a shiver of expectation through him in a way that had little to do with cold. It was a sensation he had not felt for centuries. To be the center of an Immortals attention. To be the center of MacLeod's world....

"What?" MacLeod asked when he saw Adam open his mouth to complain and then stop dead as the hazel-green eyes glazed over. Suddenly the room was muggy and hot - the atmosphere charged with promise.

"You have no beer." Methos said lamely, kicking himself as he heard his own voice come out in an almost pathetic whine. Fuck, but he was losing it!

"Beer?" MacLeod repeated softly, slowly walking closer to watch how Adam licked his lower lip. It was damn inviting. "You want beer?"

No, he wanted his head read, but failing that, beer would have to do. An endless supply sounded real good at present. Pushing away from the small fridge so he didn't get trapped in a corner, Methos went back to the table and searched for something to consume that was not Scottish. He had to control this raging desire or he'd ruin the relationship he wanted with MacLeod. He could just imagine MacLeod's face if he told him he wanted a meaningful exchange, rather than just a hot tumble into bed. Sick! He was demented! Deranged! Insane....

"Adam?"

Turning at the questioning tone that sounded far too close, Methos tried to remember if he had answered. Instead his eyes caught the cover of a book resting on the bench behind MacLeod. It immediately pulled his mind away from the dangerous direction he was going in and locked him in reality. "Where'd you get that from?" Methos demanded as he went over to the book and picked it up. It was a book by John Milton - 'Paradise Lost' the second edition - completed not long before the man had died in 1608.

"I bought it at the auction yesterday." MacLeod stated as he went over to stand next to the unpredictable man. One minute he had believed he was going to be given a glimpse of the changeable Adam Taylor and the next they were discussing literature. Taylor was worse than the bloody English weather. It was damn frustrating!

"Ah," Methos sighed in regret. He really wished he'd had time to check out the auction items. Had meant to until he'd felt the unmistakable sweep of Immortal presence. Bloody annoying.

"Which reminds me, why were you at the auction yesterday?" MacLeod asked, remembering how he had first found this man. Serendipity.

"Just looking," Methos mumbled, opening the book and absently caressing the old pages. He remembered when....

Catching the action, MacLeod reached over and covered Adam's hand, holding it to the page before locking eyes with this tantalizing being. "You knew Milton?"

"You could say that." Methos found himself admitting. What spell had this mystical Scottish creature cast over him?

"And this book-"

"Leave it MacLeod." Methos decided as he controlled his breathing and pulled his hand free. "Just another item lost to garage sale status."

Blinking at that, MacLeod laughed, never having associated auctions like a common garage sale before. But to Immortals.... Who was this man?!? "Adam-"

"Congratulations on your purchase." Methos ended as he snapped the book shut and held it out the Highlander. "Have you read Milton?"

"A little."

"He can get a bit wordy, but it was an affliction during the fifteen century that most writers suffered from."

"Adam-"

"Still some of his ideals are timeless."

"Adam!"

Stopping Methos raised a curious brow, refusing to be drawn in even as he felt his heart speed up traitorously.

"You can have the book."

"But-"

Ending the indecision, MacLeod closed the distance between them again, so drawn to this man, to his fragility, his sharp tongued temper, his elusiveness that he found he subconsciously raised a hand to skim Adam's jaw and cheek. MacLeod let his gaze study the widening eyes, seeing desires acknowledged and honest fear. But of what? Compelled to ease the fleeting panic, MacLeod tasted the hot breath as Adam gasped slightly before his lips touched cool dry skin, then he was moving to find Adam's mouth, surprised by the softness, meeting no resistance. It was forbidden and cherished, the kiss deepening of its own volition. None of the urgency MacLeod had expected, instead he was washed in a timeless longing, a completeness that answered a call deep inside his own soul as he savored the delicate balance this sharing had created. The heat, the need and the wetness addictive and he invaded Adam's mouth before he invited the other man's tongue to capture his own. It was erotic, so powerfully arousing and sacred. An act of love all on its own as the kiss became even deeper. In his arms he could feel Adam's body, the warmth of his skin, the silkiness of his hair and MacLeod took control back, plundering the moist mouth pressed to his own so possessively. It sent a fire rolling through him that had nothing to do with sex and he gave in to the hands tugging on his hair by opening his mouth even wider. Never before had he been sucked so intimately into another's soul by a single kiss, but Adam saturated him in welcome desire. Permeated his whole being in a hungry need that seemed to stop time.

Then they were stepping apart as the phone rang, both breathing erratically, both shocked by the intensity they had just evoked.

"I'd answer that." Methos muttered, anything to get MacLeod moving away so he could re-gather his defenses. It had been like falling into a vortex of unimaginable beauty and pleasure. Spiraling off into madness or into a passion he'd never imagined possible. And suddenly he wondered if there wasn't a sixth category that was designed especially for Duncan MacLeod. Something that transcended even the boundaries of physical love.... No, he just had to calm down and think. Put some distance between them and make it clear that.... that.... that what? He wanted to be fucked senseless? Oh yeah.

"Connor?" MacLeod instantly brought his mind back to the present as he heard his cousin's distinctive voice. "Aye, but...." he trailed off when Connor didn't give him a chance to reply. "I know, but-" again he was interrupted and he lifted his gaze to find Adam's dazed eyes. His friend was prowling the room, and he cursed as he saw the scowl gracing the pale face. Damn! "Noh, Connor, but-" catching the final few words, MacLeod just glared at the phone before putting it down. "That was Connor." He said needlessly to his guest. But why did he suddenly get the impression that Adam was erecting barriers between them?

"I gathered that much." Methos muttered in poor grace. He was just figuring out what MacLeod had done to him and was pissed off. "Did he get McKellen?"

"Noh." MacLeod said as he took a steadying breath. "He wanted to know if I found him."

"I see."

"Adam-"

"I think I'll go down to the bar for a while," Methos decided as he made a grab for his coat. He lifted his eyes and gave MacLeod a tight smile.

"But-"

"I'll be back later. Promise." He intoned not waiting for MacLeod's answer. He really had to get out of there and work on his own tactics. Strengthen his shields and resolves, or he'd just fall hopelessly under the dynamic Scot's spell. He wanted to get laid, not killed.

Opening his mouth to protest, MacLeod just stared at the door when it slammed shut. Swearing under his breath, he cursed himself for not moving faster to intercept the other man. Obviously Adam was interested, but he was not desperate. Plus, they knew nothing about each other - yet. Stupid, stupid, stupid.... MacLeod chastised himself. Just take it slower. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten the jumpy man away after all....

---

May 26th 1980. London.

Eyeing his companion across the breakfast bench the following morning, MacLeod speculated on a way to return to the atmosphere of last night. Adam had taken off to the bar downstairs and although he had wanted to follow, he had respected the other's privacy and stayed away. He'd eventually gone to bed and had awoken hours later to the feel of a new buzz - struggling out of his bed to see Adam curl up on the lounge with a beer and blanket while he switched on the television. The only comment he'd received had been along the lines of, 'Bar closed - think I'll watch the late movie. 'Nite MacLeod.'

He had no choice but to go back to bed and now this morning MacLeod was determined to recapture the easy friendship. He just had to take things slowly. The blankets were all packed away and Adam Taylor was dressed in his worn jeans with a different sweater, but with the same unreadable expression on his face.

"You finished with the paper?"

"Sure." MacLeod chewed on his last piece of toast and pushed the Mayfair's complimentary paper over to his uncommunicative houseguest. "Adam-" Stopping as a knock sounded on the door, MacLeod groaned, but got up noticing that Taylor completely ignored him. He went to the hotel door, guessing it was his new watchdogs and absently glanced through the spyglass. Bodie and Doyle's humorless faces met him and MacLeod closed his eyes briefly, before plastering on a strained smile and opened the door. "Good morning, gentlemen."

Doyle returned the greeting while Bodie nodded, then did a security check of the rooms and windows before acknowledging MacLeod properly.

"I take it that CI5 had no luck in hunting McKellen last evening." MacLeod stated, knowing they wouldn't find the skilled Scottish bastard. He never expected them to, and found it hard to be concerned about the fact since Connor was now on the demented Immortal's trail. It was probably for the best if he found a way to distract these men and distance from the truth and his cousin's whereabouts.

"Don't sound so cheerful, Mr. MacLeod." Bodie quipped, the mildness of his voice belying the hardness of his glare.

Raising a hand, Doyle stepped between the two men and eyed the Highlander. "What are your plans today, Mr. MacLeod."

Releasing a breath, MacLeod glanced over at Adam and briefly met his eyes, glad suddenly that he had an ally in this crazy mess. Letting his smile widen, he saw Adam roll his eyes in mock horror at CI5's intrusion before the other man turned back to the paper he was reading. "I have no plans." MacLeod declared turning his grin on the two agents. "I was thinking about going and trying out the gym on the upper level of the hotel, and later going out for dinner in the city. There's this restaurant that was recommended and I'd like to try it." Walking back over to the breakfast counter, he picked up his discarded coffee and took a sip. "The restaurant has an old 'Robin of Sherwood' type theme," he went on mischievously, hearing Adam sigh in response, "..and I'd like to treat Adam to dinner - in apology for involving him in this trouble."

Lifting his gaze from the paper, Methos sent the presumptuous child a murderous glance, before he masked his expression and looked over at the CI5 agents. His eyes met Doyle's and he read a wary respect and distrust in the frank green stare. Interesting.

"Your dinner plans are inconsequential." Bodie judged, his mind centered on finding McKellen so they could wrap up this frustrating case and ship MacLeod back to France pronto. "If Mr. Taylor were to return to the Oxford campus, is it possible McKellen would go back there?"

"Oh, now hold on an damn minute." Methos interjected in disgust. "I'm not a part of this and I will not play decoy. Regardless of what your fine print says!"

"He's right." MacLeod stated frowning at Bodie, not believing Cowley would order such a thing. "It's too dangerous."

"This is useless Doyle," Bodie muttered to his partner. "I'd rather face Macklin and Towser for a month than put up with this shit!" He ended in a hiss. "See if you can sweet talk them around, I'll go check with the boys downstairs."

Nodding, Doyle waited until the door had closed behind his partner before he released a tense breath. The door didn't slam, but it was close and he rubbed at his neck not sure any longer what to do. He could sympathize with his partner, but on the other hand he knew they were facing something that neither them nor CI5 fully understood. "Bodie is just frustrated," he opened by way of explanation. "If there is anything you can tell us that would help in locating McKellen before more lives are lost I'd appreciate it."

"If that were possible, Doyle, then I'd tell you." MacLeod told him sincerely.

Hearing that, Doyle interpreted it to mean that MacLeod knew how to find McKellen but he would not involve CI5. Glancing over at Taylor, that impression was confirmed by Taylor's direct, warning gaze. So they were at an impasse - but what was he to do? How could he stop Bodie from charging in where even angels feared to tread?

"I'm going for a shower." MacLeod decided, walking to his bedroom door. "Dinner tonight was not a idle comment, Doyle. You and Bodie are invited, if that helps."

"Yeah, thanks," Doyle muttered after MacLeod had left the room. Unfortunately he doubted it would help. Walking over to one of the main windows, he took out his R/T and checked in with Bodie, watching the street below and seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Behind him Taylor had moved and was now collapsed on the spacious lounge while he fiddled with the TV controls. Studying the man's sprawl, Doyle decided to see if he could get some more answers out of the shrewd man while both Bodie and MacLeod were absent. Ambling over to the seated man, Doyle perched himself on the coffee table in front of Taylor and muted the television's sound. Leaning forward he considered his words carefully, not missing how Taylor regarded him in patient amusement. Taylor was like a feral cat.... "You're not worried about McKellen. Why?" Doyle started, deciding to be direct.

"He's not my problem."

"He's gone after you twice now. I'd call that a problem." Doyle countered.

"Correction, Doyle. He went after MacLeod."

"You're saying you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Both times?" Doyle asked, no longer believing that excuse. "I don't buy that."

"I can't influence what you want to believe."

Snorting, Doyle glared at Taylor, then let his mouth curve up in a knowing smile. "You already have." He reminded the other man, seeing Taylor lower his lashes in silent acknowledgment. Stalemate. "So don't tell me about McKellen. Tell me about Nash."

"Nash?" Methos lifted his gaze again and frowned.

"John Nash. Scottish. MacLeod said he was a relative."

Releasing a breath, Methos relaxed further back into the soft cushions of the lounge, remembering briefly feeling a third presence yesterday. The only clan relative that Duncan had was his bad-tempered cousin, Connor. He didn't know what alias the senior Scot was currently using, but he couldn't admit that to Doyle.

"You know Nash." Doyle stated, seeing Taylor's expression. "Bloody hell, how many of your kind are there?"

"Too many," Methos muttered absently before he sat up and glanced around. He really should leave. This was getting a little too complicated now and if Connor turned up then no doubt his Watcher would be here also. Fuck!

Reaching forward to stop Taylor from getting up, Doyle roughly pushed the other man back into the cushions. "I need your help!" Doyle hissed.

"And I've already told you what to do." Methos cut back. "If you care for your life and your partner's life, then walk away now."

"And I told you, I can't do that!" Doyle returned just as strongly. He locked glares with the stubborn man on the lounge seeing, compassion, understanding and respect reflected in those amazing eyes. The depth of emotion kaleidoscoping in Taylor's eyes locked him in place and Doyle froze, until nothing moved around him. No sound, no light and no time. Nothing mattered - until a hand gripped his shoulder painfully hard. Jumping, Doyle glanced up, blinking startled only to see Bodie's worried and suspicious expression. Shit! He hadn't heard the door open.... hadn't heard his partner's approach and he could just imagine what it must have looked like between him and Taylor when Bodie walked in. Then Doyle noticed that MacLeod was also standing in his bedroom doorway staring at them in suspicion. Only the Scot's eyes held a possessive anger. Hastily standing up, Doyle wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and backed away, needing to get some air to clear his thinking. But what the hell had Taylor done to him this time?? And how was he going to explain his less than professional reaction to Bodie??

Exiting the hotel room, it took Doyle a long moment to realize he still had a persistent shadow and he went into the stairwell, hoping that would afford them some privacy. When Bodie was pissed off, usually the whole world suffered.

"Ray, what the hell is going on!" Bodie growled in barely suppressed fury. "I leave you alone for all of five minutes and come back to see you and Egyptian Boy making out on the lounge!!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Doyle shot back, pushing Bodie's bulk back and moving away to lean against the cold brick wall. He hated being crowded. Closing his eyes he tried to work out what had happened, or even how much time had passed between him telling Taylor he couldn't back away and Bodie's entrance. He couldn't remember.

"Ray - talk to me." Bodie demanded. "This case is screwing with your head. Half the time I'm not sure we're even on the same planet any longer and I want to know what those pansies have done to you."

Feeling a bubble of hysterical laughter rise in his throat at Bodie's typical response, Doyle opened his eyes and shook his head. "Nothing-"

"Bullshit!" Bodie spat. "MacLeod has done nothing but hinder us from the moment he arrived in London. And Taylor.... Taylor - shit! Where the hell does he fit into this case?!? And before you say anything, I've seen the way they look at each other and I can tell you mate, that only one bed was slept in last night!"

Swallowing his smile, Doyle pushed away from the wall loving how Bodie always made everything so bloody personal between them. Yet in a way he really envied MacLeod and Adam, envied them the closeness.... and he blinked, feeling Bodie's hand still pressing against his chest. Up until then he had not consciously considered the fact that Taylor and MacLeod were an item. But thinking back he knew it was obvious just from the magnetism the two men threw off - and he settled his eyes on Bodie's outraged face, acknowledging how good Bodie looked in that instant. All angry and possessive. Then another thought hit him - Bodie was jealous - and he almost disgraced himself a second time by laughing. Was it possible? After eighteen months of working together this was the first time his blatantly heterosexual partner had ever called him on another's sexual orientation. Did Bodie feel threatened by his attraction to Taylor? "Their private life is not our concern. And before you say what I know you are thinking," Doyle cut his partner off, seeing Bodie open his mouth. "..there is nothing between Taylor and me. I asked him if he knew anything about McKellen and he doesn't."

"Then he's lying." Bodie stated belligerently, challenging Doyle to deny it.

"We have no proof." Doyle reminded his partner pointedly. "Either way."

"At present we have bloody nothing!"

"We have MacLeod." Doyle said softly, willing Bodie to calm down. If Bodie was giving him hell for the little incident in the hotel room, then he wondered what MacLeod was saying to Adam. Burying his smile a second time, he tried to look serious. "McKellen knows we have MacLeod - so the next move is in McKellen's corner."

Considering that, Bodie let his frown soften. "He will have to come to us."

"Exactly, mate."

"So we-"

"We stick to Kilt Boy like glue." Doyle ended for his partner, glad when Bodie reluctantly nodded.

---

Entering the gym later that morning, Methos grinned evilly to himself when he realized that the gym was unoccupied. Good, he was in the mood for a little seduction, especially since he had beaten his heart into submission the previous night in the bar. From now on they would do things on his terms. So since he was currently trapped in this impossible situation, he might as well make the most of all the benefits. One of which was allowing himself to enjoy Duncan MacLeod's company. Feeling MacLeod's strong Immortal presence, he looked around, spotting the Highlander quickly and noting that the area MacLeod was working-out in was deserted of other hotel guests. Better and better.... He watched openly as MacLeod, who had changed into a white T-shirt and sweat pants, moved to the center of the room for some warm up exercises. Admiring the view Methos sauntered over to the bench-press and sat down, straddling the narrow bench facing towards the MacLeod so he had a perfect view of the Highlander muscled physique.

Out of the corner of his eye MacLeod saw Adam observing him and he smiled inwardly. He began one of his kata's, letting his body flow through the familiar routine, freeing his mind to think about matters close to home. Something indefinable drew him to this paradoxical Immortal and it was something that he felt he could spend the rest off his long immortal life trying to fathom. It wasn't just the physical side of things, although that was mind-blowing enough, and they hadn't actually done anything beyond kissing yet, rather it was the fact that Adam was such a mass of contradictions. A puzzle wrapped up in a mystery enigma. And if there was one thing he enjoyed, it was solving puzzles.

Methos watched, captivated, by the Highlander, liking the seeming ease with which MacLeod shifted through the complex moves, and he just wished that the man would take off the damned shirt! The bronzed skin was slicked with sweat, beneath which lay well-defined, rippling muscles - like strong, corded steel. And like the Scot himself, those muscles radiated constrained power that could be turned from gentle lovemaking to fierce battle in the blink of an eye. Images of MacLeod as a generous lover and fierce warrior started to parade through Methos' mind and he closed his eyes to kill the fantasy. Fuck! Obviously his brain was going soft, because he had believed he had solved this lust problem in the bar last night! He would not do category five - he only wanted category two.... Shit! But he was like one of those weak-willed, doe-eyed, love-struck idiots in a romance novel, mooning over their hearts desire. Cursing to himself in Greek, he was forced to surreptitiously adjust himself inside his jeans when the results of his latest flight of fantasy caused them to become uncomfortably tight. This was definitely turning into a bloody catastrophe, a potential disaster for them all, unless he applied some self-control. But even knowing that, he also knew that he was hopelessly lost. He couldn't walk away now, not with McKellen hunting this beautiful Scot's head. Abruptly he was brought back to reality by the clank of metal on metal and Methos blinked, noticing that MacLeod was now working on one of the AB machines, lifting weights. Oh.... screw the idea of self- control.... He also noted with a deep pang of something between delight and dread, that MacLeod had removed the T- shirt. Fan-fucking-tastic.... there went his concentration, his mind squeaked as the rippling muscles drew his rapt attention. Always be careful what you wish for, Old Man, he chastised himself severely, for you may just get it.

Over on the AB machine, MacLeod saw the far away look that entered Adam's eyes and noted with a sly grin the somewhat soppy expression that lit up Adam's face. Aye.... things were going along nicely. He had seen how Adam had stared at him while doing his kata and liked the way that his soon-to-be lover had obviously enjoyed the view. Well, lets just up the anti a little shall we, he thought to himself, finishing the last round of shoulder crunches, and relaxing with a deep cleansing breath. Picking up his discarded shirt he mopped his face and chest dry, then pretended to concentrate on adjusting his next set of weights. He shifted on the bench and found that from this new angle his gaze could slide down Adam's lean body without being obvious. And his eyes easily homed in on the obvious bulge in the tight denim jeans, and he grinned at the apparent direction in which the other man's thoughts must have gone.

Methos picked up on MacLeod's gaze, frowning at the fleetingly sly look on the Scot's face. So, the young pup was trying to be devious was he? Well we'll see about that. No four hundred-year-old manchild was going to outsmart him. Stretching languidly, Methos stripped off his own T-shirt and sprawled artfully back onto the bench, making sure to spread his legs wider, all the better to brace himself, of course.

MacLeod noticed the well-choreographed sprawl and felt a jolt of raw desire shoot straight to his groin at the sight of the long lean expanse of muscled chest that was briefly exposed to his hungry view. If Adam wanted to play games.... Getting up from the AB machine, MacLeod approached the sprawled figure stopping when he stood between the long muscled thighs, his shins against the end of the bench. "Are you actually going to do anything, or are you just playing?"

Methos looked up, startled at the proximity of the velveteen voice and a strangled gasp escaped him at the sight of MacLeod standing there so tall, towering over him like Adonis.... his bronzed skin gleaming with the results of his exertions. Breathe, Methos.... breathe. You do remember how to do that? Don't you?? "Why Mac, watching you has quite exhausted me. I fail to see the point of all this anyway." Methos replied, waving a dismissive hand at the rows of exercise equipment, amazed that his voice worked at all, let alone that he could produce such an even tone.

"That's not all it's done," came the growled reply, the hot brown gaze making its searing way down to the straining material at Methos' groin.

Shit! Methos cursed, slightly dazed and wondering when he had managed to lose command of the situation. Impertinent brat!

MacLeod grinned down at the disconcerted man before him, relishing the wide-eyed expression. Extending his hand he asked, "So.... do you want to spar a little?"

Methos eyed the grinning idiot suspiciously. The last thing he wanted to do in this state was get physically closer to the bronzed prince of Scotland. He knew damn well that any pretence of self-control would quickly become a joke if they actually touched. A move like that would take fantasy and turn it into reality. But to refuse would be to confirm what MacLeod was thinking, and Methos frowned as those laughing brown eyes challenged him to refuse the extended hand. Bloody hell! Of all the times for his pride to kick in and accept a challenge!! For he had never refused a challenge like this.... Well, that wasn't entirely true, but for some strange and probably suicidal reason he didn't want to refuse this challenge. He was most definitely deranged, but what a way to go.... Mentally girding his loins, yeah right, Methos reached up and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet.

Keeping his hold on the pale long fingered hand, even when Adam tried to pull away, MacLeod led him to the center of the room. Giving the captive hand a small squeeze before letting go, MacLeod dropped into a waiting defensive stance.

Bloody hell fire.... what is the matter with you Old Man!?! You're acting like a randy teenager. Since when can just the touch of a warm, strong hand make you go weak at the knees?? Get a grip.... Methos berated himself. This is definitely one of the worst ideas you've ever had, and that's coming from a very long list of very bad ideas.... He just had to get direction back and getting into a prolonged sparring match was not the answer. For once, he almost wished that Doyle and his annoying partner would walk in and save his stupid carcass.

Getting sick of waiting for Adam to make up his mind, MacLeod attacked, catching the other man completely by surprise and knocking him to the floor. He heard Adam grunt in shock.

"Great! Are we finished now? You win-" Methos growled, rubbing his sore rear as he got up.

"Noh, we are not finished yet."

"You know, Greco Roman is more my style. You do know they used to do it nude don't you?" Methos taunted, the fall putting him in a better frame of mind to resist the Highlanders charms. That had bloody well hurt! He countered the dirty look MacLeod threw at him with an evil grin. Good, the brat even looks good angry.

Alright Adam, you've asked for it, MacLeod fumed. It pissed him off when Adam teased him, especially when the other man had no intention of following up on the tease. With a low growl he attacked again, admitting to himself that any excuse to touch Adam was a good one.

Methos found himself on the floor again, but this time he was expecting it and he managed to lock his grasp onto MacLeod's arms, pulling him down on top of his own body. The completely startled look in the large brown eyes was compensation enough for almost having the wind knocked out of him. Taking advantage of the Scot's surprise he pulled MacLeod's head forward and planted a short but through kiss on the open mouth, before pushing the stunned Scot away. Now that's more like it!

At that precise moment the glass doors to the gym swung open and Doyle and Bodie walked in. Doyle immediately took in the half clothed men on the floor, seeing MacLeod doing an award winning imitation of a goldfish and Adam sitting a few feet away grinning in triumph. "What's going on here?" Doyle asked out of courtesy.

"I'm winning." Methos declared in a smug tone. Getting smoothly off the floor, and ignoring the deadly look and low mutter from the still stunned Highlander. He used the interruption to put some much-needed distance between himself and the Highlander's arousing presence. He most definitely needed a cold shower now.

MacLeod noticed the curly-haired agent's gaze resting on Adam while he stood up and a brief flare of jealousy shot through him, before it was quickly squashed as unworthy. Just like that morning when he had walked into the main area of the hotel room to find Doyle and Adam locked in a silent communication....

Doyle had to complement MacLeod on his taste in partners, Adam was definitely something else. Catching MacLeod's warning glare, he moved his eyes away from Taylor, hiding a smile. He's all yours sunshine. Besides, he could see quite clearly that Adam was only interested in MacLeod.

Bringing his attention back to the other occupants of the gym, Bodie noticed Ray's speculative gaze resting on Adam when the student sauntered off towards the men's changing rooms and for some reason he had the sudden urge to thump somebody, preferably Taylor. But figuring he might get into Cowley's bad books he restrained himself and settled for a deadly glare leveled at the departing student's back instead.

Doyle noticed Bodie's black look and had to bite back a laugh. So, Bodie wasn't over his irrational jealousy yet. There was a God after all....

MacLeod ignored the by-play between the two agents, instead concentrating on Adam's retreating figure, admiring the way the other man moved and wondering what the hell Taylor needed a shower for?! Then he grinned, feeling his own diminishing arousal brush against his damp cottons. Perhaps Adam was not the only one who needed a cold shower? For once he wished he had worn his Karate GI, for he could do with their concealing bagginess right about now. Taking a deep breath MacLeod fought to bring his misbehaving body back under some semblance of control, amazed at the effect that even so brief an encounter with Adam's hot demanding mouth could have on his usual tight control. The man was devious and so sensuous, that MacLeod wasn't sure if Adam was aware of the power and magnetism that he exuded. The way that Adam's manner did nothing but draw him closer - even if it scared the hell out of him to think what irrational behavior Adam might produce in him next. "Perhaps we should continue this in the shower!" MacLeod impulsively called out in Gaelic, seeing Adam hesitate in his trek towards the showers.

"If you feel you're up to it." Came the reply in the same language, accompanied by a come hither smile.

Frowning, MacLeod wasn't sure who was wining this contest of wills and flirts and he turned away, deciding to ignore the challenge. Damn but this was the weirdest courtship he'd ever had the misfortune - or fortune - to be involved in. Never in his four hundred years had he met anyone who threw him so completely, and he began to have some suspicions about one Adam Taylor's real identity and just exactly how old he was. Maybe he should follow the contrary bastard into the shower, he wasn't quite sure if the other man was bluffing or not. If he followed him he might get some straight answers. Ah shit, who was he kidding, besides he was in the mood for some fun tonight and an evil thought popped into his head. Dinner, and he knew the place he had picked was no ordinary restaurant either. He was sure he'd manage to get some entertainment out of it, seduce Adam with alcohol and perhaps piss Bodie off into the bargain. Now that was a mission worth undertaking, and he planned his strategy. The most important factor was to seduce Adam and he was determined to get the flighty man into his bed tonight even if he had to hit him over the head and carry him there. There was only so much frustration he could take....

Bodie noticed how the expression on MacLeod's face changed and speculated what perverse idea the bloody Scot was thinking up now. It just better not include him or Doyle.

In the shower area, Methos smiled when he got no answer to his challenge, then he breathed a small sigh of relief. He'd been half-afraid that the brat would call his bluff - fuck! All of a sudden he seemed to have this insane urge to live dangerously. Old Man, you should pack your bags and get the hell out of Dodge before.... before what? Before you lose your fool head? Or before you get yourself tangled up in perhaps the worst category five relationship since Kronos! Not that Kronos had even technically been a category five.... his sarcastic little survival demon whispered in the back of his mind. Shut up! He tried to silence the persistent voice. Duncan MacLeod is not Kronos, Methos argued determinedly, and he was not going to run out on MacLeod. Not to mention Raymond Doyle. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! He swore with feeling. How the hell had he managed to resurrect his troublesome conscience again? He thought he'd done a bang up job of losing it millennia ago. It had to be all that fucking barbarian's fault! Detouring over to the bag MacLeod had brought up from the hotel room, Methos satisfied his sudden urge to strangle something by stealing the Highlander's towel before finally heading into the showers.

---

The sound of Bodie's R/T beeping made everyone jump and with a scowl that usually made strong men cringe, Bodie took the interruption as an excuse to leave the gym.

Doyle watched the big Scot while he gracefully got to his feet, wishing he'd had a chance to see the man in action. "I think you've picked a tough assignment with that one." He observed, noting the quick glance MacLeod sent toward the changing room.

MacLeod looked back at Doyle, startled by the comment. He found himself looking at a pair of green eyes that held no judgment, just understanding and slight sympathy, and instead of telling the agent to mind his own business he smiled wryly. "Aye, I guess you could say that." MacLeod replied.

Nodding, Doyle glanced around the spacious gym area, noting the windows and exits. So Bodie was right about these two. Trust his partner to pick up on the sexual vibs. "You planning on staying down here?"

MacLeod snorted, following Doyle's gaze around the room. He liked Doyle and he had the feeling that if they had met under different circumstances, that they could have been friends. Might still be if they all lived through the current circus. "I think I'll just head back to the room and change." MacLeod stated, suddenly unwilling to face Adam again so soon. Doyle raised a questioning eyebrow at that and MacLeod added - "Trust me."

"Alright. But if you're not there when we get back, I'll sic Bodie on you."

MacLeod let out a bark of laughter at the image of Doyle letting Bodie off a leash and saying - 'Kill'. "You win. I promise to behave," he finished, going over to retrieve his bag before exciting the gym.

Doyle gave a heavy sigh, glancing at the showers one final time, deciding Taylor would be safe enough alone and followed MacLeod to see how his partner was faring. It had probably been Cowley on the R/T wanting an update.

---

Bodie shot a last, black look back through the glass doors of the gym before he depressed the call button. "3.7-" he acknowledged tersely.

"Report 3.7." Came the equally terse reply.

"Assignment is secure. Nothing new. Sir."

"Special Branch lost the tails on McKellen and Nash. Both it seems, have gone to ground. There is no evidence either have left the country. I want you and 4.5 to remain close to MacLeod and Taylor."

We're having dinner with them for Christsakes, can we get much closer?! Bodie snarled to himself. "Yes Sir."

"See what you can find out about Taylor. He may be a material witness but the University has little on his background. Just try not to get him shot a second time. Do I make myself clear 3.7?"

I'll shoot the bastard personally. Taylor was getting entirely too much attention as it was in Bodie's not so humble opinion. "Yes Sir."

"Remember, render all assistance possible to MacLeod. He could be useful at a later date."

Oh, now that was just going too far by half, you didn't 'render assistance' to someone you were baby sitting - you told them what to do and they bloody well did it! No questions asked! No arguments! The only assistance Bodie wanted to give the annoying Scottish bastard was assistance into the next life. Preferably with a bullet between those smug brown eyes. "Yes Sir."

"Alpha One out."

Yes Sir, no Sir, three bags full Sir! "3.7 out." Bodie snarled after the click on the other end told him that the old man hadn't waited for his reply. Resisting the urge to throw the inoffensive R/T against the wall, Bodie took a large breath and tried to squash the urge to kill somebody. Hearing footsteps, he turned and saw Doyle.

Approaching his partner warily, Doyle didn't miss the scowl that was currently gracing Bodie's handsome face. He winced at the language Bodie was muttering and guessed that Cowley had said something that had gotten up his partner's nose. Again. Bracing himself for a snide answer, he voiced the question. "So, what did the Cow have to say?"

Bodie's scowl softened somewhat when he saw Doyle tense and he looked beyond his partner to the deserted gym area. If MacLeod had still been around he just might have been tempted to give into his baser urges and deck the bastard. "Oh nothing much. We're to 'stick close' to Kilt Boy and Taylor. Shit Ray, do you think Cowley would notice if I shot MacLeod and said it was terrible accident?" Letting out an explosive breath, he calmed, reassured by Ray's amused smile. "The Cow said we had to 'render assistance' to that bloody arrogant Scottish bastard. Render assistance!!! I'll render him dead - that's what I'll do." Bodie ranted.

Doyle looked about at the stares they were drawing from the few hotel patrons and staff alike, then noticed a security man looking in their direction. Sending the guard a strained smile, Doyle made an effort to calm his angry partner. "Bodie, for Christsakes - will you leave off. Or at least keep it down. The last thing we need is trouble with the Hotel Management."

Bodie muttered something under his breath that sounded vaguely threatening, before managing with an effort to get his temper under control. "Fine." He growled, lifting a hand and showing Doyle the tiny gap between his thumb and forefinger. "But I swear Doyle, I'm this far away from doing something I won't regret."

Keeping his expression serious, Doyle nodded, remembering how he had felt when Taylor had told him about Immortals and then confirmed that MacLeod was one of them. Man, was Bodie ever going to be pissed when he found that fact out. If he found out, he amended silently. "Look sunshine, we're stuck with them. So let's just make the best of it. Besides dinner is on Kilt Boy tonight, so let's enjoy it. The food should be good, for I can't see him going down to the local for a meal. Then if we're real lucky, McKellen will be waiting for us after dinner. So promise me you'll behave tonight."

Giving Ray a dubious look, thinking that it would be just like the arrogant Scottish prick to take them to the local, Bodie grunted his assent to behaving himself - whilst keeping his fingers crossed behind his back.

Taking the grunt for a sign of partial willingness to cooperate, Doyle clapped Bodie on the shoulder. "Come on mate, we can leave the kiddies with Turner and Anderson for a while."

"Where are we going?" Bodie asked suspiciously, even though he brightened at the prospect of getting away from MacLeod.

"Back to Oxford. It seems one of the students saw McKellen get into a car and I volunteered us to check it out."

"Bloody, marvelous." Bodie returned. "You know on days like this, I love the way your mind works."

Grinning, Doyle led Bodie away knowing this was only a reprieve. They would still have to return and they would still have to endure dinner. Privately he was looking forward to dinner, but he would never admit that to his high-strung partner. Never in a million years.

---

MacLeod turned the not so hot shower off and stepped out to dry himself. It was now evening and this was his second shower for the day and he smiled in recollection of how easy and relaxed the day had been with the absence of Bodie and Doyle.

Hearing a faint noise coming from the other room he figured Adam must be watching the television. Adam Taylor - such an innocuous name, attached to a man who on the surface seemed just as innocuous. Only MacLeod knew that was just a front to cover something far deeper. Ambling out of the ensuite to get dressed, he knew that it was the hidden depths he sensed in Adam that drew him to the other man. Those millisecond flashes of something other than Adam's mild-mannered-grad-student persona. He also couldn't deny that there was a strong physical attraction between them - like ice on inflamed flesh - and he was not going to finish this evening without at least satisfying his curiosity on that account. He had a very strong belief that beneath that lazy, cynical front Adam wore, there lurked a very sensual being. In his head he kept repeating the sight he had glimpsed of - pale smooth flesh, long inviting legs and that artful sprawl - not to mention the tantalizing taste of Adam's mouth.... Damn! If he wasn't careful he was going to need another cold shower. Sternly telling his errant body to behave, he finished tying his hair back and went out into the main room to confront the cause of his current troubled thoughts. Only he was greeted by the appealing sight of Adam stretched out on the couch in a comfortable sprawl. Typical.... but the picture was marred by a small furry body draped over Adam's chest in perfect imitation of its owner's sprawl, a loud contented purr issuing from the vicinity.... That cursed black cat! About to protest, MacLeod closed his mouth realizing Adam was wearing his same faded denims and T- shirt. He checked his watch and saw it was getting late and there was no way he was taking Adam to dinner dressed like that.

Feeling the atmosphere around him change, Methos opened one eye to see Duncan MacLeod standing over him. The man was dressed immaculately in a pale linen shirt and dark trousers with his hair neatly pulled back. The only problem with an otherwise perfect picture was MacLeod's expression that read 'you-are-not-wearing-that' look. "What?" Methos mumbled in feigned shock.

MacLeod found himself being glared at reproachfully by two sets of green eyes, Adam and the damn cat, but taking his courage in both hands MacLeod made his stand. "I am not taking you to dinner dressed like that."

Nefertiri lifted her head, stretched and sent the brooding Scot a final glare before executing an exaggerated yawn and going back to sleep. Methos didn't dare crack a smile when MacLeod's scowl darkened. Instead he tried to look unconcerned. "Fine. Then I won't go."

"Oh yes you will. Go and get changed."

"Who died and made you God, MacLeod?" Methos growled. "I'm perfectly comfortable here. I'll just order room service. Haven't you heard - that's what living in the modern age is all about? Besides, I don't want to disturb Nef."

"Adam!"

"Look MacLeod, I wasn't aware when I packed that we would be doing formal dinners. Okay! This is all I have. End of subject."

"Really. Well, we'll just have a little looksee. Shall we? Hmmm?" MacLeod replied, turning and heading for where Adam had dropped his bag the night before.

Methos moved hastily when he realized the Scot was deadly serious. Scooping up a very annoyed Nefertiri, he received a couple of painful claw marks and a hiss of displeasure for his impertinence, but ignored her as he dumped her hot weight on the lounge. The last thing he wanted was the brat finding his journal.... "Now look here MacLeod.... this is a gross invasion of privacy." Methos complained, chasing MacLeod into his room only to see the big Scot standing next to his bed holding a familiar bag in the air with a look of smug triumph on his face.

MacLeod saw the gold-green eyes narrow dangerously and wondered how far he could push this unpredictable man. Slowly he unzipped the bag, his eyes never leaving Adam's face. When the bag was halfway open he slipped his hand in and pulled out the first thing his fingers found. It was a black T-shirt and he dangled it from his thumb, taking his eyes off Adam long enough to read the bold writing on the material. The word 'QUEEN' blazoned across the front in flame colors and MacLeod raised an eyebrow at Adam in question.

"What?!" Methos snapped in peeved defense. "They do great music. You have a problem with that?" He finished, slowly realizing that MacLeod was only teasing him.

"Uh huh," MacLeod shook his head. "Not your style - Adam." He said pointedly, emphasizing the name. "But I suppose this sort of clothing goes with the 'grad student' thing you've got going. Right?"

"A good disguise is all in the details, MacLeod. And I do like their music." Methos replied, moving further into his room to sit on the bed. Glaring at MacLeod he leaned back casually, placing his hands behind his head before sending his tormentor a sly grin.

Enjoying the sight of the lean body draped over the bed, MacLeod reached in for the next item. Ah, now this felt more like it, he thought when his fingers encountered something that felt suspiciously like silk. "Hmmm? Silk? I like the feel of silk." He purred, leering at Adam. "Don't you?" Slowly MacLeod drew the slippery fabric from the bag, delighted when he saw it was a deep emerald green in color and he knew instantly that it would be a perfect complement for a certain pair of eyes that were at this very moment blinking at him in assumed innocence. "Well, well, well.... what do we have here?" He asked rhetorically. "And I suppose you're going to tell me you've never seen this before? Hmmm?" He finished, throwing the shirt at Adam.

"Mac!" Methos caught his breath at the low sensual sound of MacLeod's voice. It was like heavy velveteen and the sound made him shiver, his body reacting instinctively. Shit! Get a grip old man.... he chastised himself.

"Shall we see what else you don't have to wear?" MacLeod continued, grinning when he noticed the slight dilation in the glazed eyes. Reaching back into the bag, his fingers touched something hard and when he drew it out he discovered it was a leather bound book, and a very old one at that. Glancing over at Adam, he thought he saw a fleeting look of panic cross the angular features before it was covered by Adam's usual mask of indifference. "And what's this? Your Little Black Book, perhaps? Adam?" He teased.

Seeing his diary in MacLeod's hand gave Methos a moment of pure panic and he stood, snatching the volume from the Highlander's grasp. "None of your God damn business!" He snapped, knowing he was over-reacting but unable to help himself. If the damned inquisitive brat found out what was in his journal he'd lose any chance of even having a friendship with the too-honorable boy scout. "Wouldn't want you thinking you had too much competition," he finished, the excuse sounding lame even to his own ears.

MacLeod backtracked, shaken by the abrupt change in mood. So the guy had secrets. Hell.... didn't everyone? Didn't he? And it was obvious that this was a very sensitive subject with Adam. So back off and give the guy some room. MacLeod cursed himself for killing the playful mood he'd worked so hard to create and he just hoped he could get it back. Taking a step forward so that he was well within the other man's personal space, he reached up and brushed gentle fingers across a pale cheek. He waited for Adam to acknowledge him then reached out very slowly and took the book out of Adam's hand again. Letting his fingers that were caressing Adam's cheek slide over to press against moist lips, he petitioned the other man with his eyes for trust. For a long moment he did nothing else, praying that his eyes conveyed his sincerity and MacLeod relaxed, seeing Adam's gaze narrow. Gaining possession of the old book a second time, MacLeod then purposely walked around the bed, pulled back the bed sheets and placing the book under the pillows. Then he smoothed the sheets down and clasped his hands behind his back, sending his nervous friend a small smile.

Methos stood stunned at the simple gesture, having to swallow several times before he could find his voice. "Thank you, Duncan." He managed, his voice husky with pent-up emotion.

MacLeod felt a thrill of pleasure at the sound of his name spoken by that sexy baritone and he walked back to Adam's patiently waiting figure. Taking the initiative, he slid a hand behind the slender neck and took the soft mouth in a sensual kiss that left them both breathless. "I'm sorry," he whispered against the parted lips.

A shiver slithered down Methos' spine, almost causing his knees to buckle. Oh Gods! The generosity, the compassion in this Highland Barbarian was going to be his undoing. It had been so very long since anyone had treated him with such tender care, understanding and respect that he was utterly unprepared for the feelings invoked in him and how they rendered him almost totally defenseless.

Satisfied with the effect that his actions had produced in his unpredictable friend, MacLeod stepped back and picked up the discarded bag again, brandishing it in front of Adam. "So - do I see what other little surprises are in here? Or will you admit that you do in fact own some decent clothes? I'll leave the decision up to you."

Seeing the mischief come back into the soft brown eyes, Methos read the intention behind the words and decided to go along with it. "Alright, MacLeod - you win. Happy now?!"

"Uhuh. Not until you say it."

"Say what?"

"You know. Exactly. What. I. Mean." MacLeod pressed, crowding Adam towards the bed and emphasizing each word with a gentle finger on the other man's chest.

"I have no idea what you're raving about, MacLeod-"

"Say it. Or I'll have to punish you." MacLeod growled, backing Adam up until he fell backward onto the bed.

"Are you threatening me?" Methos growled back, finding he could get to like this playful side.

"Oh, I never make threats." MacLeod returned, leaning over the prone form and lowering his head to nip at the parted lips.

"Promises, promises," Methos breathed, hooking a leg around the Highlander's lower body and deliberately causing the bigger man to loose his balance so he could roll them both over. His ploy worked and he ended up on top of a very startled Duncan MacLeod. "Age and experience will always overcome youth and enthusiasm, MacLeod. Always. So remember that." He intoned, before claiming the Scot's mouth in a demanding kiss.

"So.... how old are you then?" MacLeod gasped when he was allowed up for breath.

"You know I'm not going to answer that question, so why keep asking it? Besides it's impolite to ask another Immortal their age." Methos answered, stealing one last kiss before getting reluctantly off the warm body beneath him.

"And who made that rule up?" MacLeod asked, making an unsuccessful grab for Adam when the other retreated.

"I did." Methos returned. "Now get out so I can get changed."

"Make me." MacLeod taunted with a naughty grin.

"MacLeod!!"

"Alright," MacLeod surrendered, hands in the air when suddenly a sword wielding Immortal advanced him upon. "Jeez, some people have a real attitude problem." He complained, startled at the speed with which Adam had produced the weapon.

"Ha ha, very funny MacLeod. Now kindly leave." Methos emphasized the point by stepping forward, forcing the Scot to retreat or be impaled. Firmly closing the door on a slightly disgruntled Scot, Methos grounded the Ivanhoe and leaned against it, his legs feeling suddenly weak again. Fuck! This was insane. If Duncan MacLeod had been anyone else but 'Duncan MacLeod' he would have been long gone by now. How many times would it take him playing with fire before he learned that he'd get burnt?!? Evidently quite a few, he berated himself. But far from feeling like he would get burnt, the Highland Warrior's fire warmed his cold, dark soul, bringing light to places that hadn't seen it in centuries. He felt at home in MacLeod's presence, like he belonged and the siren song of that desire was becoming harder and harder to resist.

---

MacLeod stood staring at the closed door, a small, pleased smile playing on his lips. He had managed to smooth over the awkwardness, yet Adam's reactions really intrigued him. He would not, however, push for answers to the questions now forming in his mind for that was not the way to keep this flighty man at his side. He would have to learn to wait, and barring that he would have to find a way to live with the secrets. And that he knew would be the hardest part. Could he have a relationship with a person whose life was shrouded in secrets? He had always been open about his own past to those he cared about and found it hard to deal with the secretiveness of others. And he could now admit that Adam had come to mean something more to him than just a casual acquaintance. He could not pinpoint the exact moment it had happened, but he now realized how much he wanted Adam when so thoughtless a joke had almost destroyed the budding friendship.

Sighing MacLeod turned away from the door and went to wait for Adam in the lounge. He was greeted by the sight of Nefertiri curled up in what had become his chair. One green eye opened and glared balefully up at him, daring him to disturb her rest. Obviously she held him responsible for the earlier disturbance of her nap and he was now in her bad graces. Damn cat. Admitting defeat, MacLeod turned and sat down in Adam's usual perch on the couch. Settling his eyes on the cat again, MacLeod saw her close her eyes and stretch slightly, obviously very pleased with herself that he had succumbed so easily to her will. Watching the sleeping feline, MacLeod decided that she clearly shared some unfortunate personality traits with Adam, and he briefly wondered if he could survive living with both of them together.

The bedroom door opening behind him disturbed MacLeod's speculations and he glanced over, before quickly standing in surprise and turning fully to face Adam. Gone were the scruffy jeans-clad-grad-student-persona and in its place stood an incredibly handsome man. The emerald shirt tucked into a pair of black pants, the black leather belt serving to emphasize the trim waist and the narrow hips. MacLeod advanced on Adam and slipped his arms around the tempting waist. "You look good enough to eat," MacLeod growled before claiming the inviting lips in a devouring kiss. The sensual feel of body warmed-silk under his hands matching the silken heat of Adam's mouth. Oh aye, tonight was definitely the night, MacLeod promised himself.

"Don't ruin the silk, MacLeod." Methos complained, fighting to keep his voice steady while he tried to disentangle himself from the Highlander's constricting embrace. Fuck, but this was turning into a habit. What was it about the bloody, annoying brat that caused him to lose all semblance of control so easily? He was five thousand years old for fucks sake, and a mere child should not be able to reduce him to acting like a crazed sex addict!! The problem was that he wasn't used to being pursued with such single-mindedness and it was bloody disconcerting. He constantly felt like a mouse in the presence of a cat - a cat that was sure it had its prey exactly where it wanted it.

MacLeod let Adam go, delighted by the flush on the pale skin and the slightly erratic pattern of the other's breathing pattern. Hearing a knock on the door, he allowed Adam to pull away, glancing at his watch and guessing it was his CI5 watchdogs. Doyle and Bodie. Sugar and Spice. Had the pair accepted his offer of dinner, or would they insist on staying in the car? Either way, he found he didn't really care. Not now that he was slowly breaking down Adam's barriers.

Methos found his mouth thoroughly plundered one final time before Duncan went to answer the door. The phrase 'saved by the bell' sprang immediately to mind and he battled to get his body back under control. For the second time in one day he was extremely grateful for the interruption.

Opening the door, MacLeod stood aside, gesturing the two CI5 agents into the room. He noticed that Bodie was dressed impeccably in a black jacket and pants with a white shirt, but Doyle was dressed in jeans with a casual shirt and a leather jacket. So they were coming for dinner. Doyle's doing? He assumed so. Covering his grin, he blinked at Doyle's jeans. Although MacLeod had to admit that the jeans were at least presentable and without holes, they were not standard dress. Catching Doyle's eye he asked. "What is it with you and Adam and jeans?"

"Yes, MacLeod, do tell me why he gets to wear what he wants while I'm forced to dress up like some window mannequin?" Methos asked pointedly.

"Ignore him," MacLeod advised to his guests. "He's just feeling put upon because I refused to take him out looking like a tramp." Ignoring the outraged sputtering noise that was coming from behind, MacLeod shut the door and went over to the phone to call the front desk and order the house limousine.

Much to Bodie's annoyance, he noticed his partner eyeing Taylor up and down and only just resisted the urge to kick Doyle in the shins. Glaring at the opinionated student, he begrudgingly had to admit that Taylor looked different - older - when dressed decently. And there was a certain, strange appeal surrounding the man. He just didn't like Doyle taking too much notice of that appeal.

When Methos realized that his outraged act was being ignored by its intended audience of one, he gave up and turned his attention to the two agents instead. He spotted Doyle giving him a once over and nearly laughed out loud when he saw the disgruntled expression on Bodie's face. Maybe the night wouldn't be a total waste of time after all, he decided. A little Mac baiting with the added bonus of some possible Bodie baiting. Could be hilarious. And just maybe he could persuade Doyle to get in on the act.

Hanging up the phone, MacLeod saw immediately what Adam was doing and threw him a warning look, mouthing the word 'behave' behind the other men's backs.

Choosing to ignore the warning Methos sauntered up to Doyle and draping a friendly arm around his shoulders before asking in an expansive tone - "So, is everyone ready for a good time? MacLeod's paying."

MacLeod sighed and looked to the heavens for strength, wondering if Adam had any suicidal tendencies he should be worried about. Glancing at Bodie, he noted the growing storm clouds that seemed to be gathering around the agent's shoulders. This was a dangerous mortal when his own clan was threatened. A trait MacLeod could well identify with. "Okay, the limousine is waiting downstairs. Shall we go? Gentlemen?" MacLeod announced to the room in general, glaring at Adam and determined to postpone any confrontations until they were alone.

---

The limousine pulled up in front of a non-descript brick building on the waterfront, not far from the Tower Bridge. The drive over had been interesting to say the least. MacLeod had had to resist the urge to kick Adam several times when the other Immortal had persisted in what could only be called flirting with Doyle. The fact that Doyle seemed to be playing along with the so-called gag hadn't helped matters either and Bodie had taken the position of ignoring them both. But MacLeod could tell that the strain was beginning to take its toll.

---

As they stood waiting for MacLeod to finish giving the driver his instructions, Methos looked around wondering where the entrance was for this restaurant they were supposed to be going to. Restlessly his gaze settled on a large wooden sign hanging above one of the wooden doors in the large brick building to his left. It had 'Medieval Knights' painted on it in large black Gothic lettering, next to a picture of an armored knight on a black charger. Laying a hand on Doyle's shoulder, he pointed to the sign. "You're not going to believe this," he murmured quietly into his ear.

Doyle took one look at the sign, glanced over at Bodie and back to Adam before breaking into hastily stifled laughter. Strewth, but was this ever going to be an interesting night.

Bodie turned at the sound of laughter, ignoring Taylor's hand on Doyle's shoulder with an effort. Picking up on the direction of interest, he saw what they were looking at and got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Christ, please let this be some sort of sick nightmare that he was going to wake up from any second. Bodie realized then that this must have been what MacLeod was so smug about back at the gym. Turning to scowl at the Scot, he found his hand reaching for his gun almost of its own volition.

Spotting the movement almost immediately Doyle stepped in front of Bodie and his target, laying a restraining hand on his angry partners arm. "Easy mate. Don't be daft. If you shoot him now the paperwork's going to be so bad you'll be chained to your desk till next Christmas. Plus the Cow will probably shoot you himself." Doyle admonished, keeping his voice conversational while he tried not to attract the attention of the gathering crowd waiting to enter the same restaurant.

"It would almost be worth it." Bodie growled. "Just keep that pillock away from me." He finished, his deadly gaze hitting on MacLeod briefly as he flexed his fingers. "And 4.5-"

"What?" Doyle asked, reading Bodie's unhappy expression before it was locked behind those steel blue eyes a second time.

"I don't think getting all chummy with Taylor is part of the assignment. I don't want more trouble from Kilt Boy." He ended in a hiss.

Doyle shook his head, debating the wisdom of continuing to bait his partner. Apparently, for some reason known only to himself, Bodie had decided that the cause of all his problems was MacLeod, not Adam Taylor. He probably blamed the Scot for bringing Taylor onto the scene to complicate matters and torture them, Doyle mused. But he was not so sure. Even though the meeting between the two Immortals appeared to all intents and purposes coincidental, Doyle had seen enough to know that if 'Adam' really wanted to disappear he could. The man seemed to be a master of blending into his surroundings, in fact if he kept his smart mouth shut, you hardly noticed he was there. It was almost as if Adam were having fun by participating in events like a game, and the implications of that were mind boggling. How old would someone have to be to find these sort of dangerous situations fun? With a sigh, Doyle gave up speculating on that, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer.

Methos had seen Bodie's move and was almost sorry that Doyle had stopped him. If MacLeod got shot it would serve the Highland brat right for inviting the humorless agent on this outing. But having Bodie here also kept MacLeod in check and gave him a chance to play.... a bit of harmless payback for that little fiasco outside the auction at the University. Not that it had been entirely Mac's fault, but that was beside the point.

Unaware of what had happened behind him, MacLeod turned away from the driver to find three sets of eyes looking at him and got the distinct impression that he had missed something important. Choosing to ignore the uneasy feeling that skittered down his spine, MacLeod plastered a smile on his face and approached the waiting group. "Well gentlemen, shall we go in?" He asked, gesturing to the door that had been the topic of the hastily diverted altercation. His suggestion was greeted with varying degrees of enthusiasm, which MacLeod decided to overlook, because he wanted to have a good time.

Inside the main entrance of the restaurant a pretty blonde woman stood behind a desk dressed in a serving wench's costume. "Good evening Sir, what name is your booking under?"

"MacLeod. Party of four." MacLeod replied, giving her his best smile. He leaned on the mahogany counter and took in the artifacts lining the back wall. Chain mail, period costumes and swords.... this could be a fun night.

Seeing the petite blond blush, Methos narrowed his gaze targeting MacLeod, then shook his head. He was over- reacting again. But he did find it obscene and amusing that MacLeod had this constant effect on the female of the species and he leaned over to Ray to hide his own discomfort. "It's sickening really, don't you think?" He murmured.

Doyle nodded. "I know exactly what you mean." He replied, glancing over at Bodie. "I have to put up with exactly the same thing. daily." He finished with a grin. "But you know what the worst thing is, he doesn't even have to try. He pulls birds like a magnet."

"Ah yes," Methos replied sagely. "But I wonder how long they stick?"

This caused Doyle to snicker and garnered another deadly look from the object of his mirth.

MacLeod decided he would ignore the latest outburst, positive he could feel his ears burning. Receiving confirmation of his booking from the receptionist, he turned to direct the others down the staircase to the dinning room. He was greeted by the sight of Adam and Doyle grinning like a pair of idiots, while Bodie looked about two straws away from breaking.

Along with the other patrons they descended the spiraling staircase to enter a dimly lit cellar. When they reached the bottom they noted the low ceiling, dark drapes, lit candles and long wooden trestle tables set out in rows. It looked like a reproduction of a medieval dungeon gone terribly wrong.

"This brings back pleasant memories." Methos muttered to himself, earning a puzzled glance from Bodie and a warning scowl from MacLeod.

Doyle caught the comment and instantly wondered again how old this Adam Taylor really was and what he had possibly seen, and endured. The banging of a stick three times on the stone floor to capture everyone's attention interrupted further speculation and Doyle snorted in wry amusement when he saw the entertainer's attire. This was a theatre restaurant - Bodie would positively hate this....

"My Lord's and Ladies. If you would all make yourselves comfortable, the entertainment will begin as soon as His Royal Highness, King Henry arrives to begin the festivities." Announced the Master of Ceremonies in a loud voice. To reinforce his words, the actor surveyed the gathering audience and dinners with a haughty expression.

Bodie marched ahead of Doyle, muttering to himself about insufferable Scot's and pain-in-the-arse-grad-students. Finding a table at the far end of the room, he made his way to the end and sat in the last chair, with his back to the wall and put on his best 'do-not-disturb' scowl. "Why did you let me get talked into this?" Bodie growled at his partner once Doyle was seated opposite, his scowl deepening when he saw Taylor take the seat next to Ray.

Doyle sighed, of course this was entirely his fault. Well he guessed he could put up with the blame, if it kept Bodie happy. Although happy was probably not the best word to describe his partner at present. Bodie was busy intimidating the tourists with a new scowl. At this rate they'd be sitting at a table all by themselves and Doyle considered warning MacLeod, then decided against it when he saw the Scot help a young lady to her seat. It was perfectly gentlemanly, but then he also caught Adam's hesitation and groaned. "Idiot. I don't believe this," Doyle muttered, realizing that Bodie was watching him with a brow raised in question. At that moment, Doyle wasn't entirely sure if he meant MacLeod, Adam or his difficult partner, so he chose to stare back wordlessly at his other half. "Bodie, would you please lighten up."

Bodie grunted, knowing it wasn't Doyle's fault, but he was brassed off with the whole situation and Doyle was the safest target he had at the moment. He was also more accessible than Cowley.

"And would you quit scaring away all the guests! Or we'll look very funny sitting at the table by ourselves. Might as well paint a target on MacLeod and have done with it!" Doyle finished, with practiced ease he ignored the glare that came his way from Bodie.

Methos grinned to himself, watching the two agents conversing. Aww what a cute couple, he mused mockingly to himself, maybe he could put his expertise as a matchmaker to work here? He'd seen the reactions at the gym earlier and from the look of things, there was a chronic lack of communication of the right sort going on in this partnership. So, he'd just have to get things going in the right direction. Besides it seemed MacLeod was finding new interests, so much for his charms.

MacLeod caught the speculative gaze that his exasperating dinner companion was directing at the two CI5 agents and groaned silently. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see the wheels turning in Adam's devious, perverted little mind and he could easily figure out what the other man was up to. Only problem was, it spelled trouble. Stretching back in his hard chair he casually leaned over the table and captured Adam's wondering attention by touching his arm. "What ever it is you're thinking, I suggest you stop." MacLeod growled the warning, noting with interest how Adam's smile grew even more mischievous. Damn!

"Whatever do you mean?" Methos replied, leveling a look of pure blinding wide-eyed innocence on the Scot. If Mac wanted to play games, so could he.

"Don't give me that more innocent than a newborn routine Adam, I'm not that stupid." Ignoring the skeptical snort from the other man MacLeod continued. "I can see what you're trying to do. Leave them alone."

"I'm just trying to give Cupid a hand, Mac. Think of it as a public service."

"Well if you want to play Cupid's little helper, you can look a little closer to home." MacLeod retorted, suddenly and irrationally annoyed that he couldn't pin the exasperating man down on their own frustrating friendship. Why did Adam have to meddle in Doyle's life! Damn him! Was Adam only interested in torturing him with the permanently withheld promise of a more intimate relationship? It never usually took him this long to tumble a potential lover into bed....

Startled by the intensity of MacLeod's voice and stare, Methos looked up into the other man's eyes and was shocked by the depth of frustration and need that was reflected back at him. Oh shit! This was not what he wanted to cause. Maybe his conclusions of a moment ago were wrong? However, he was spared from giving an answer when the ridiculously dressed Master of Ceremonies struck the stone floor again with his staff and announced that the King was arriving and would they all please stand.

Seeing the look of relief on Adam's face, MacLeod resolved that after dinner he was definitely going to have a chat with young Adam Taylor and he wasn't going to be doing a lot of talking. Panting yes.... talking no.

Standing, they all turned to look at the opposite end of the low-ceilinged room where an archway curtained with blue velvet material was spotlighted. A muted trumpet fanfare played over the sound system and the curtains where thrown back by a couple of men dressed in chain mail and helmets. The imitation guards walked out followed by a small man in a fool's costume with the traditional rattle on a long stick. He jumped and tumbled down the isle between the rows of tables to the delight of the children and Japanese tourists. Next came a bearded man with a lady on his arm. They were dressed in rich satin and were obviously supposed to be King Henry VIII and his Queen. MacLeod raised a curious brow, just catching Adam's yawn of disdain before looking at the CI5 agents. Both Bodie and Doyle were checking out the crowd rather than the actors. Curious. Did they honestly expect trouble? Did Cowley know something that he wasn't sharing? MacLeod doubted McKellen would show in a place like this. Wasn't the other Immortal's style.

The burly Master of Ceremonies rapped his staff three more times on the stone floor and in a booming voice declared: "My Lords, Ladies and gentlemen. His Royal Highness King Henry the VIII and Queen Anne."

Mildly interested, MacLeod watched, noting that the actors did nothing more than retire to their throne and wave at the diners around the room. Then waitresses dressed in serving maids costumes made their way around the tables carrying pottery jugs of mulled wine and ale. The wench's poured wine into the goblets before they were all encouraged to raise their glasses and toast the King before being seated for the feast.

Methos leaned over to Ray after he was seated and grinned. "You know, Anne Boleyn looked nothing like that. Neither did Henry."

Caught off guard with a mouthful of ale, Doyle couldn't decide whether to laugh or swallow, and ended up doing both, which resulted in a coughing fit.

Methos placed a hand on Ray's arm whilst giving him a gentle thump on the back with the other. "Sorry Ray, bad timing." He apologized before handing him a napkin.

Bad timing my foot, MacLeod thought, glancing beside him at Bodie, noting the scowl directed at Adam. What was that idiot thinking? In fact how had they ended up seated like this? He should be sitting next to the demented Immortal and Doyle should be seated beside the humorless one-man crusader, named Bodie.

Bodie glared at Taylor, wondering what the younger man could have said to get such a reaction out of his normally unflappable partner. He wished that beating the crap out of an assignment wasn't so frowned upon, because that was exactly what he wanted to do to Taylor. Hidden tendencies from his old mercenary days were suddenly starting to seem temptingly appealing.

Recovering from his coughing fit, Doyle looked over at his partner. Christ, things were not looking good. What the hell was Taylor playing at? You did not provoke Bodie and expect to get away with it unscathed. You just didn't go around pushing Bodie's buttons like that. He remembered the last time Bodie had looked that murderous and then not even Cowley had been able to stop the stubborn man going on a rampage. It had been after Bodie's girlfriend had been injured in a restaurant bombing.... Doyle stopped the thought, momentarily stunned at the sudden revelation. During that frightful incident Bodie had believed he was in love and had wanted to revenge her attempted murder. Bodie had been a man possessed. A dangerous man.... and now Doyle could see those same deadly desires in his partner's blue eyes a second time. Blinking, Doyle hardly registered the fact he was sitting in a room full of people as that realization sank into his mind. Bodie was jealous. Jealous of Taylor.... and Adam bloody well knew it! The exasperating moron beside him was deliberately provoking Bodie! But why? Did he have a death wish!?! Doyle swallowed and turned to look at Adam. The other just smiled back and Doyle raised an eyebrow in silent question, knowing Adam would understand completely.

Methos caught the look Doyle threw at him and let his grin widen. So Ray had figured it out. Smart lad. But then he had suspected that Raymond Doyle would catch on, he just wasn't sure if the Englishman would play along. "It's really up to you." Methos answered, letting the other decide.

Doyle looked back at Bodie. Adam bloody well knew! Knew that Bodie was jealous and that.... that.... But was this the way he wanted to force Bodie to admit all the unvoiced little intimacies between them? That was really the question here. No.... But then he also had nothing to lose and everything to gain by playing along. If it didn't work Bodie would blame Taylor and things would be as they always were. If it worked.... well.... if it worked then he would have everything he wanted and more. "Fine." Doyle answered in a clipped tone, narrowing his gaze to drink in Adam's pleased smile. He'd known the man less than three days yet somehow he trusted Taylor more than his closest friends. It was frightening and illogical. "Just don't blame me if you end up dead." He added in a hissed aside for Taylor's ears only. Unfortunately he knew it was a useless threat.

Bodie was about to interrupt the little chat that was going on between Doyle and Egyptian Boy when the soup course arrived. It forced him to turn his irritated scowl on the serving maid standing next to him only to meet complete disinterest as she dumped a stack of bowls under his nose. He raised a displeased brow and gave her his killer smile. That didn't work either and he sucked in a peeved breath when he was instructed to pass the pottery soup dishes and spoons down the table. This earned him a smirk from Taylor who leaned in close and made some barely audible remark about 'good help being hard to find' to Doyle. Manfully resisting the urge to stand up and smash some crockery over the perverse man's head, Bodie finished his task without a word. Cursing Cowley, MacLeod and Taylor under his breath, Bodie suspected this was going to be one of the worst nights of his life, and probably the longest. He was absolutely positive that he would rather be back in the jungles of Angola surrounded by enemy soldiers right now, than sitting at this table playing nursemaid. Irritably he noticed that MacLeod was keeping out of the whole thing, probably just as well, Bodie lamented silently. Though it was the Scottish bastard's fault for dragging the skinny little prick into this mess in the first place!

The noise level in the room had remained low for sometime while everyone concentrated on their meal. Methos had done his best to keep up a stream of observations on the authenticity, or lack thereof, of various items and details. He could tell that he was getting on Bodie's nerves because the looks the other man was directing at him would probably peel paint. Methos was also getting equally dirty looks from MacLeod who persistently kicked him in the shins whenever he touched Doyle in any way. It wasn't really a problem, more hilarious than annoying, but Methos vowed to make the infuriating Highland barbarian pay when they got back to the hotel. Speculating on that, Methos glanced around for more inspiration, catching sight of the man in the fool's costume. He grinned wickedly, finishing his soup while he watched the Fool do some slight of hand magic tricks at the table across. A new idea formed in his mind and Methos barely suppressed his brilliant smile, glancing over at the object of his campaign. Bodie. Poor bastard.... His grin turned into as frown when he felt MacLeod kick him in the shins under the table. But even that didn't stop his sick sense of humor and he eyed Bodie a second time. Slowly a new wicked smile ghosted across his lips and he wondered if Bodie liked magic tricks.

MacLeod, who was keeping an eye glued on his aggravating would-be-lover spotted the change in expression almost immediately and cursed silently to himself. Why did he do this to himself? He wasn't aware of any previous masochistic tendencies so they must have developed when Adam turned up. This time he trod on Adam's toes, hard. "Don't!" MacLeod hissed, pitching his voice low.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Methos hissed back.

"Whatever you're planning in that sick little mind of yours - stop it!"

"You're insane." Methos snorted. "I'm sitting here minding my own business. Which, by the way, is something you should learn how to do."

"Very unlikely." MacLeod said in mock belief. "Don't give me that bullshit. Leave it alone." MacLeod finished. When it was obvious he was going to be ignored, MacLeod closed his eyes briefly and pondered a way to remove Adam from the immediate vicinity. Drag him out, or march him out at sword point?? Only when MacLeod lifted his lashes to glare dangerously at the other man, he found himself traitorously smiling instead. If anything Adam was adorable, especially with that impish expression lighting up his changeable eyes, and MacLeod wondered if he was the insane one for allowing the older Immortal to proceed with his teasing. Probably.... and he shook his head. Bodie was an arrogant bastard, but he didn't deserve Adam's wicked sense of humor.... did he? Opening his mouth, MacLeod was just about to say something when the serving maid reappeared and asked if everyone could pass their plates back to the end of the table. It distracted them all and MacLeod breathed a sigh of relief when Adam seemed to not only cooperate, but behave.

After the dishes were cleared away the unexcitable Master of Ceremonies announced a round of entertainment. It seemed they were to be entertained by a strong man, an acrobat and a juggler.

"Oh this should be fun." Bodie muttered caustically, and for the first time in a long while found himself wishing that his R/T would sound and give him a good excuse to walk out of this whole farcical excuse for a meal. He was going to kill Ray when this was over. What the hell was Doyle playing at anyway, flirting with that smug, arrogant, obnoxious and cynical little son-of-a-bitch! Bodie was surprised that MacLeod had done nothing and said nothing because he was damn sure he hadn't read those two wrong earlier in the gym. At least he was positive there was something on the Scot's side. He'd seen that 'keep-away- he's-mine' look enough times during tours with the Merc's in the jungle to know when he ran across it in civilian life. Obviously the Scottish bastard swung both ways, which was something Bodie could understand. He'd done the same when there was a lack of female company, especially when stationed overseas. It was the unspoken rule, the ignored topic in the service. Which brought him back to his dilemma with Ray. What was he to do about his fiery- tempered little partner? For it wasn't as if either of them lacked female company. Employment in CI5 was in a lot of ways similar to being in the army. You were married to the job. You lived it, breathed it and took it home every night. In turn it was hell on a relationship, on a social life and on anything resembling normal living. Some of the operatives in CI5 had wives or long term girlfriends, but the death toll on those relationships was very high. In reality, as Cowley always reminded them, your only certainty was your partner and your wits. Which brought Bodie's thinking back to Ray Doyle. Was that why he was drawn to Ray? Because they each understood the risks and accepted them as part of their life and their relationship? Or was there another reason? Flicking his eyes over to Taylor again, Bodie felt the responding flare of resentment and cursed himself inwardly. Ray had fascinated him from the start. In fact Cowley had lured him into the Squad by dangling Doyle under his nose. Oh yes George Cowley was one ruthless, calculating son-of-a-bitch. Typically Scottish by showing him something he found desirous and then letting him slowly learn he would never have it. Not his Raymond.... Tensing when he was tapped on the shoulder, Bodie's speculation on his partner was broken by the sound of a voice beside him.

"Excuse me Sir, but your friend has volunteered you for a small magical illusion."

One quick glance at the men across from him and Bodie knew exactly which so-called 'friend' had set him up. Fucking Taylor.... McKellen should have killed the little prick! "I don't do tricks." Bodie growled barely tearing his deadly gaze away from Egyptian Boy.

"Oh come on Sir, be a sport. Have some fun," continued the obviously suicidal jester.

"Yeah William, get into the spirit of things. Have some fun." Methos piped up helpfully.

Doyle froze mid sip of his ale. Oh Shit.... he thought seeing the grimace on his partner's face freeze and turn deadly. Nobody called Bodie William, not even Cowley did that. At least not within his hearing, Doyle relented. Hell, he didn't even dare call Bodie by his first name....

Bodie gritted his teeth, but refused to give Taylor the satisfaction of provoking him. Later.... he promised himself. Later he would find some reason to drag the insulting, cantankerous little bastard up before Cowley and have him charged as a menace to society....

"See sir," the jester carried on in an even tone, oblivious to the impending disaster looming. "Pennies." By slight of hand the talented actor happily entertained all at the table by demonstrating how he could make coins appear from his volunteer's ears and shirt collar. "I'm going to be rich," he proclaimed in a comical fashion that had the patrons laughing as an endless supply of money fell into his hands from around his subject's person.

Biting his lower lip, Doyle didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. Next to him Adam was in hysterics, sliding down in his seat to sprawl gracefully, those green eyes challenged Doyle to deny the fun. And it was funny especially when the jester spun them a story while continually finding more coins hiding on Bodie's person. Only his partner's lack of movement alerted Doyle to the real danger of Bodie losing his legendary temper and Doyle swallowed again, very glad when the jester stopped. Bloodshed in a restaurant was the last sort of publicity Cowley needed.... only his reprieve was short lived for the foolish jester returned and politely asked Bodie to stand.

"William, can I ask you to stand for just a moment."

Trying not to flinch under the light hand resting on his shoulder or to the sound of his name, Bodie slowly stood, placing his hands firmly on the table. He would Kill Doyle. Kill Cowley. Kill MacLeod. Dismember Taylor.... His litany was interrupted by the sound of coins falling into a container and Bodie glared around to find the hapless jester standing behind him with a bucket while old coins seemed to be falling out of his backside. Exhaling hard through his nose, Bodie gripped the table hard while the jester laughed and pretended an innocent look of dismay to all the other customers until the last coin fell. Not waiting for permission, Bodie sat down and picked up his drink. It was either that or take out his gun....

Holding his breath, Doyle wished the jester would leave, debating leaning across and saying something to his irate partner. Only he was not sure what to say. Relax mate, as it's only a bit of fun.... seemed lame and Doyle winced when the jester returned. But the actor said nothing more, still appearing heedless of his subject's temper as he stopped beside Bodie's chair and twisted a balloon into the shape of a poodle. The jester then placed the balloon animal in front of Bodie and Doyle cringed inwardly at the look his partner directed towards the small pink poodle. It was meant as a present for being such a 'good sport' and Doyle snorted. Bodie had endured the tricks and the clapping with a blank expression, but Doyle could tell poodles were the last thing on Bodie's mind. Only now his unpredictable partner was sitting with an expression that was getting stonier by the minute and Doyle was positive he needed to put a stop to things before his partner reached breaking point and lost it completely.

Methos glanced over at the scowling Bodie, and bit his inside lip thoughtfully. If the man had been a dog his hackles would be up and his ears laid back, with a vicious snarl on his face. Oh yes, Methos judged, this was just the response he was looking for. Now was the time to back off and leave the rest to nature, he mused to himself with a satisfied grin. Turning his attention back to the peeved Scot sitting opposite, Methos speculated on how MacLeod might want to pay him back for the good deed he'd just done. It was a prospect he relished.

MacLeod caught the self-satisfied smirk on Adam's face, like a cat with cream on its whiskers, and just hoped that the contrary man had decided to back off before he had to defend him against an angry CI5 operative. MacLeod was definitely going to make the exasperating man pay for his meddling, and the possibilities were interesting to contemplate. They were also endless.

Hearing laughter around him, Bodie slowly placed his napkin down knowing he had to get out of there before he lost all connection with reality. His head pounded and he really wanted to strangle Taylor. So he shoved away from the bench like table and marched out. Fresh air beckoned and he needed to regain his composure.

Swearing under his breath, Doyle threw down his serviette and muttered an apology to both MacLeod and Adam before he hastily stood. Shit! He was going to have to do some fast-talking to smooth this one over, and he followed his wayward partner out of the dimly lit establishment. He avoided the entertainers and returning waitresses, his only concern was catching Bodie before his partner did something terminally stupid.

Doyle caught up with Bodie at the top of the stairs, but his partner shrugged out of his grasp and carried on out of the restaurant. "Bodie?" Doyle hissed, following the other man out into the night, starting to shiver as the cold winter air curled its chilly fingers around his body.

"Leave it Doyle! Just leave it!" Bodie retorted.

Doyle lay a hand on the broad shoulder, feeling the coiled tension in the bigger mans frame. "What is with you mate? Why do you let him get to you? You've handled worse than him before."

Bodie flinched at the touch of his partner's hand feeling it send a familiar sensation of frustrated and prohibited pleasure along his nerves. Because, Goddammit, he's to close to the painful truth and you can't bloody well see it! Bodie wanted to shout at the man standing beside him. But it was no use, Doyle was somebody he could never have. Friends, partners, brothers, and that was as far as it would ever go. It would have to do, but shit it hurt sometimes, to be so close, but in reality the distance may as well be cosmic. Bodie snorted - Doyle would say it was his Karma, he was paying for past sins now - and paying dearly, Bodie acknowledged feeling the smaller man's warmth press closer while Doyle squeezed his shoulder in a comradely fashion.

Doyle felt the flinch and fought the urge to pull away, wincing inside as the apparent rejection cut deeply at the hopes he nursed of being closer than just partners and friends. Doyle knew what Adam was doing, trying to play matchmaker, and Bodie was having none of it. Well, if that were the way of things then he would accept them, because to be separated from his partner would be like losing a part of himself. So in reality Adam's little games had showed him one painful thing, had made the decisions he had been toying with easier. He would stay in the partnership on any terms - on Bodie's terms. "Come on 3.7." Doyle snapped, getting angry now when all his hopes were dashed. "We have a job to do, and you acting like a bloody prima donna is not helping!"

Shocked by the changed tone of voice, Bodie curled his lip, his own angry glare meeting Doyle's uncompromising look. "I don't get paid enough for this shit!"

"Save it for Cowley." Doyle hissed back, then swiveled on his toes and went back into the restaurant.

Watching the trim, tempting figure walk away, Bodie shoved his hands in his pockets and cursed Cowley, then himself. He had over reacted, but Taylor was driving him insane! Couldn't Doyle see what the skinny bastard was doing? Obviously not. Kicking out at the cobbled pavement, Bodie begrudgingly followed his partner back inside. In the morning he would present Cowley with a written report and suggest he and Doyle be reassigned due to irreconcilable differences. Cowley wouldn't buy it, but it might spare them the morning shift while the wily old man chewed them out for wasting his valuable time. It was one plan.

---

MacLeod sighed loudly and glared at the man sitting opposite him, "Why the hell did you do that?" He demanded in a harsh whisper.

"All part of the plan, MacLeod, all part of the plan." Methos replied with a self-satisfied grin.

MacLeod snorted. "This plan, I hope it doesn't backfire on you. Because if he kills you, this time you will have to disappear."

"Oh ye of little faith. I guarantee you by this time tomorrow they'll have sorted it all out." Methos replied flippantly, gazing off in the direction of the two agents. Around them the serving wenches were bringing the main course, placing a huge pot in the center of the table with dishes of vegetables and potatoes.

Ignoring the food, MacLeod looked at Adam's profile and grimaced, concerned more with their own personal problem and the tantalizing prospect of when they were going to get 'it' sorted out. Reaching under the table he placed a gentle hand on the slender thigh across from him and squeezed, grinning when the other man jumped and turned wide startled eyes on him. "I do hope that they are not the only thing on your mind tonight?" He growled, pitching his voice low so only Adam could hear.

Startled by the sensations that shot strait to his groin at the gentle touch, Methos' breath caught at the sensual sound of the velvet voice that promised so much. All he could do was stare at the man opposite, because for some reason his brain seemed to have taken a momentary leave of absence and for all his efforts he couldn't seem to make any sound come out of his mouth. Category five....

MacLeod grinned openly at the man he was determined would become his lover. He drank in the bewildered expression, the green eyes just seeming to get wider and wider as he glided his hand up the smooth fabric. Reassured, MacLeod started to believe the evening would improve. Delicately using his fingers MacLeod pressed into the firm flesh beneath the warm cotton and felt the faint shudder that ran through the taunt muscles. It was enough to make him grin knowingly.

Methos' breath caught, and he bit back on a groan of protest when the warm hand was removed from his leg. Oh Jesus fuckin' Christ.... It was insane the effect that this man's touch had on him and he cursed, feeling himself harden uncomfortably. There was no way he would be able to stand up now and not announce his state of arousal to the entire restaurant. What made things worse, was that the bloody barbarian brat was sitting there as calm and collected as a saint with a sly grin on his face. Bastard! It had been centuries since anybody had held this kind of sexual power over him, or had this strong an effect on his senses. No, he corrected wordlessly, it had been a long time since he had allowed anybody to have this much power, he amended truthfully and then cursed himself for being seven kinds of fool for sticking around. "What the fuck was that for?" Methos growled peeved and frustrated, wanting to cover his own reactions.

"Oh, just my way of reminding you to behave. I do hope they are not the only one's who are going to get lucky tonight." MacLeod said easily reaching for the food placed before them.

Methos groaned inwardly at the mixture of threat and promise that colored the Scottish brogue. "Why, whatever do you mean MacLeod?" Methos prevaricated. He should leave, get up from the table and just walk out the door and never look back, because feelings like this led to nothing but heartache and torment. Besides it could never last, once the proud Highland boy scout found out about his past, there was no way that those beautiful eyes would look at him with anything but horror and disgust and he could not bear that eventuality. But like a moth to a flame - against all his so-called better judgment - he found he could not leave without first sampling the heat of the forbidden fire that MacLeod stirred. "If you insist," Methos replied, allowing a smile to curve his lips.

It was now MacLeod's turn to catch his breath. The slow seductive smile that teased at the sensual lips tugged at his heart, not to mention his groin, and MacLeod responded helplessly to the display. Craving the promise mirrored in the desire darkened green eyes as Adam licked his lips ever so slowly, MacLeod moaned low in his throat so glad for the covering music. "Oh, I definitely insist." MacLeod whispered, replacing his hand on the slender thigh again and giving it one final squeeze before he spotted the two CI5 agents returning to the table. "Now behave." He growled, leaving the implied threat hanging. He couldn't wait for dinner to end so he could get Adam home....

---

Slamming the door of the silver Capri, Bodie shoved the key into the ignition and gunned the engine to life. The last few hours had been murder and he didn't bother to glance at his unnaturally silent partner guessing easily what Doyle was thinking. Instead he switched his glare to the highly polished limousine parked outside the foyer of the Mayfair across the road from them. MacLeod had been anxious to get out of the restaurant and get back to the hotel and he didn't need a degree in psychology to guess why. Bastard! So contrary to his wishes they had returned MacLeod, and guest, safely to the designated destination and had thankfully handed over the troublesome pair for the night to Murphy and Anderson. Still the inaction of the case was driving him crazy, not to mention the nature of the assignment. He was ready for a fight or failing that, a good decent argument with anyone - preferably Taylor. Checking his mirrors out of habit more than anything, Bodie smoothly pulled into the traffic and let his simmering rage out by going through the gears harshly. "Bloody Cowley," he muttered with feeling, flicking a swift glance at Doyle's sprawled figure in the passenger seat when all he got in return was dead silence. "I can't believe he has us babysitting that skirt-"

"Save it, Bodie."

"Aw, come on Doyle!" Bodie grouched exasperated as he dodged traffic to run the lights. At this point he didn't care if he attracted the boys in blue. Didn't care period if he ended up in Cowley's office before being reassigned to filing. "This is a crap assignment and you know it! Cowley has us chasing our tails, following that Mr. 'I'm- flippin'-marvelous' MacLeod around like nursemaids when we should be out hunting McKellen. Christ, McKellen could be out beheading some poor bastard and we wouldn't even know because Cowley has decided to play 'old home week' with Kilt Boy!"

"And just maybe MacLeod will lead us to McKellen. Or have you forgotten that minor detail." Doyle cut back sick of listening to Bodie bitch. He had enjoyed the evening, even if most of it had been at the expense of his partner. Taylor was damn good company. Pity he was an assignment, which meant they wouldn't see each other again after McKellen was nabbed.

"Fine!" Bodie growled his hands tightening in response to Doyle's unvoiced challenge. "Then I say we bug MacLeod and let the lad's in the boogie boo have them for a day or so."

"Impractical." Doyle said matter-of-factly, shaking his head and reaching up to grab the panic strap when Bodie weaved past a slow moving truck, just narrowly missing the on coming traffic.

"No, what is impractical is watching MacLeod making eyes at that little prick tease, Taylor, while Cowley debates the topic in the Ministers office!" Bodie half shouted, taking out his anger on his driving while he sped them towards Doyle's current residence in Kensington. "I'm sick to death of all the stupid games-"

"Wouldn't have guessed," Doyle quipped.

"..and what the fuck are you doing encouraging that toffee nosed bastard!"

"I wasn't encouraging anything, so get off your damn soap box and bloody well slow down before you land us both in the drink!" Doyle snapped back when Bodie just missed collecting a pedestrian. "Christ Bodie, but what is wrong with you!? From the way you've been acting these last few days I wouldn't be surprised if MacLeod asked Cowley to give you a shot for rabies."

"Oh very droll," Bodie growled sarcastically. "Don't play cute with me! I saw how you played up to Taylor and the only reason MacLeod didn't belt you one was because he knew you were coming home with me!"

"Lucky me."

"Christ Ray!" Bodie hissed more in frustration now than anything else. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Nothing."

"Pull the other one mate, as I can smell a con job a mile off. You and that little prick have been working off each other since I left you to scrape his skinny arse off the pavement. So what gives mate?"

Hearing the rawness behind Bodie's tone, Doyle raised a hand and rubbed his eyes. He was far too tired to cope with a disgruntled, bad-tempered and insecure Bodie tonight. What his partner said was true, he did like Adam, he did trust him and did know more about what was going on than he could ever hope to explain to his hard-nosed, skeptical partner. And that was the tragedy. "Like I said, nothing." Doyle muttered moodily, bracing himself when Bodie stopped the car with a jolt across from his flat.

"Ray-"

"Adam and I have.... similar interests. Academically speaking." Doyle amended, knowing he had to offer something to the other man, otherwise Bodie would be hell to live with after this operation was over.

"I noticed." Bodie said mockingly.

Not liking the tone or the inference, Doyle sent a glare his partner's way. "Will you bloody well stop acting like some demented primadonna! What the fuck is wrong with you? So.... I like Taylor! I think it's unfair what has happened to him and before you say anything else, yes I know the two of them are having it off, but since when do we judge the lives of others?!? Start down that road mate, and you might as well kiss the squad goodbye because Cowley doesn't tolerate prejudices."

"I'm not prejudiced!"

"Could've fooled me." Doyle retorted, opening the passenger door and climbing out.

"Okay, Einstein!" Bodie called as he leaned over to glare up at his partner and friend, just stopping Doyle from slamming the passenger door. "Since when did you turn all altra-comfortable with the idea of homosexuality?"

"Since always," Doyle whispered back, bending down to send his partner a serious look. He watched Bodie's eyes widen fractionally before the other man frowned to cover the surprise. Then he pulled back and slammed the passenger door. He'd given the other man ample to think about for one night and refused to look back as he crossed the road to his flat. Reaching into his jacket pocket he fished out his keys, playing over in his mind all that Adam had said to him and all that Bodie had said, shaking his head at the pragmatic view on life Adam Taylor held. It had to be a side effect of Taylor's immortality, a concept he was still trying to wrap his brain around. But then watching Taylor with MacLeod he had to admit Bodie also had a valid point. Both men were so besotted with the other that it was almost laughable - would be hilarious if he didn't find himself in the same position with one argumentative ex-SAS, straight-laced William Andrew Phillip Bodie. Climbing the front steps two at a time, Doyle shook his head, appreciating the fact that at least he and Bodie were friends and he fitted his key into the security door and pushed it open. Then suddenly he was turning, hearing a noise behind him and instinctively reaching for his Browning before he was crashing into the entrance foyer of his apartment building with a 200-pound CI5 agent on top of him. "Bloody hell, Bodie what the blazers are you playing at now?!?"

"You little sod!" Bodie growled, pinning his exasperating partner to the floor. "Are you telling me you'd go for Taylor if he gave you the come on?"

"No," Doyle wheezed, twisting around to shove Bodie off him. "Don't be more of a moron that you already are."

"Then what?" Bodie demanded belligerently, watching Doyle rub sore ribs and wince in both discomfort and anger.

"I said you dumb crud, that I wasn't against the idea! Not that I wanted to jump Taylor's bones." Doyle clarified, annoyed now with his thick-witted partner. Checking the safety was clicked on his Browning he re-holstered his gun.

"So-"

"So nothing!" Doyle snapped, getting to his feet and glaring at Bodie's scowling face. "Do me a favor and just go home before you get us both arrested."

Giving his partner a dark look, Bodie let him walk away, slowly working out in his own mind what the evasive answer might mean. If he wanted the truth he would have to push Doyle, and he'd have to do it now before he lost the chance or before Ray threw up barriers higher than Everest. Standing, Bodie absently brushed the dust from his cords and followed his obstinate partner.

Not surprised to find Bodie behind him again when he opened his apartment's front door, Doyle let out an explosive sigh, wondering if it was all worth the aggravation. "What now?"

"I want to know what you meant." Bodie said simply refusing to look away from those searching emerald eyes.

"Why?" Doyle asked simply.

"Because it could change everything." Bodie whispered honestly, noting how Ray started to frown before he raised a hand to run fingers through his thick curls. They sprang back obediently even as Doyle turned away from him and entered the dim flat. Watching Doyle wrestle with some inner moral decision, Bodie frowned, just catching the fleeting glimpse of vulnerability and aching loss before Doyle covered the expression. Sucking in a determined breath Bodie followed him inside, well aware that he had not been asked to enter, but then neither had he been asked to leave. If he had this all wrong Doyle would physically evict him and the partnership would be difficult for a while, but if he was right.... Inside the flat, Doyle had not turned on any lights and Bodie could see him illuminated by the streetlamps outside the bay windows and he shrugged out of the jacket, throwing it over the lounge.

"What do you want from me Bodie?"

The quiet question disconcerted him for a moment and Bodie's first response was to shrug until he caught a second glimpse of his partner's pained expression. He relented and walked over to the other man, debating what to say first. "Tonight.... tonight at dinner I was bloody-"

"Jealous?" Doyle interjected.

"Infuriated." Bodie finished with a growl. "To think that.... that-"

"That I'd go for Taylor while you were present?" Doyle asked mildly, starting to enjoy himself now. This was more like their normal banter and he wasn't sure if he was relieved the tension had broken or disappointed because another opportunity was lost.

"Yes!" Bodie hissed. Hearing Doyle chuckle was the last straw, and Bodie grabbed him roughly and savaged his mouth, wanting to either shock an argument and fight out of him, or to seduce a willing participation. The impulsive strategy worked surprisingly well, for Doyle jabbed him hard in the gut, then swept him off his feet to land him on the floor with a thud. Schoolboy antics and Bodie smiled up wickedly knowing that if Ray were truly angry he'd be unconscious by now instead of flat on his back peering up into the shadowed face of his partner.

"Have you totally flipped?" Doyle asked breathlessly not sure if he wanted to allow this to happen or not. "If you keep this up mate, I'll recommend to Cowley personally that you should go back to the shrink. Ross would just love to see you."

"Nah," Bodie drawled sure now of his reception before reaching up to grab a handful of Doyle's soft cotton shirt to drag him closer. "I know exactly how to work off my paranoia, and you my son are a chief ingredient."

"Bod....ie...." Doyle yelped only protesting half-heartedly as he was knocked sideways and blanketed by a hot body that seemed to touch him everywhere. Abruptly just the idea that he was going to taste Bodie in his most elemental form had the contact igniting all sorts of interesting reactions in his body and he shivered, not finding the breath to argue when his mouth was taken in a hot erotic kiss.

---

MacLeod deliberately shut the door in agent Murphy's face. He'd had enough pussyfooting around with CI5 and instead stalked after Adam's retreating body. The trip home in the Limousine, the looks cast his way in the lifts and the whispered touch upon entering the hotel suite were all taking their toll on his self control. There was no way Adam would deny him further and he hastily stripped off his coat, loosened his tie and followed the other man into the spare bedroom. Adam's room....

"Mac-"

"Shut up," MacLeod growled, scanning the room and finding the temperamental cat almost immediately. She had made herself at home next to the pillows and he refused to be distracted by her possessive antics this night. Going to the bed he expertly lifted her and propelled her out the door, ignoring her screech and Adam's gasp before slamming the bedroom door shut. Then MacLeod turned and regarded his guest, not missing the slight flush on the pale cheeks before he advanced menacingly on the other man.

"MacLeod!"

"Your mouth might be saying no, but your body is saying yes, so I am going to give you five seconds to decide."

"What?" Methos asked stunned, giving a half laugh while he backed away from the gorgeous man pacing after him.

"One-"

"You can't be serious!"

"Two-"

"If this is some sort of joke-"

"Three-"

"..I'm not laughing any more!"

"Four-"

"Did you hear me?!"

"Five."

"Mac.... Leod!!" Methos protested even as he was lunged at. Problem was he was laughing to hard to make a serious escape and they both ended up rolling across the bed until he lay pinned under a grinning Highlander. "You are such a primitive!" He complained but found his mouth curved up at the Scot's affectionate appraisal. "And so dead if you don't get off me!"

"Top or bottom, I don't care," MacLeod whispered huskily, gentling his hold and trailing his fingers down to his captive's wrists. His words and tone killed the playfulness, turning the moment serious, making them stare at each other for a long drawn out minute until Adam blinked, breaking the powerful spell.

"Fuck-" Methos breathed. He could feel himself tremble under MacLeod's warmth and weight, could feel his heart contract at the emotion coursing between them and knew he was lost. Category five wasn't just threatening his survival any longer it was smothering him in its deadly embrace. "Mac-"

"Can't you feel it?" MacLeod whispered, watching the man beneath him in awe. "There is a connection between us. A bond-"

"Duncan!" Methos gasped suddenly desperately scared for them both as his desires and needs entrapped him so firmly.

"Shh," MacLeod breathed, unconsciously soothing him, releasing the imprisoned wrists to caress Adam's face. "I will keep you safe." Then he leant down and kissed him.

Startled, Methos wanted to scream his acceptance, his need for this seductive persuasion, but rather he cried inside when the Scot's soft lips coaxed a gentle response from him. This tenderness was the last thing he expected. He had wanted to be taken, to be plundered, to be forced - so that he could keep the casualness in the relationship and prevent it from turning serious. But now.... now he devoured the glimpse of love MacLeod feathered over him. He knew logically such an emotion was doomed, but for one night he craved the feelings. Opening his mouth to the tongue softly probing his lips, he relinquished all responsibility for this one treasured taste of happiness and flew with his senses, praying this was not another monumental mistake.

---

Having ended up somehow on the floor and pressed against the back of the couch, Ray Doyle, tried to stop the inevitable as he pushed Bodie's hot, possessive form away. "Bodie! Will you.... just.... back off!"

"Don't back out on me now, Ray." Bodie hissed, his hands tightening over his partner's upper arms. Already his body was more than ready, eager to sample his partner's lithe strength. Never in his wildest dreams would he ever believe that Ray would let him this close, let him get this familiar.

"I'm not." Doyle snorted, dropping his head back on the cool wooden floor and wincing.

"Then-"

"Floors bloody freezin'-"

"Oh," Bodie mumbled, glancing around in the gloom. He blinked up and saw the front door was still wide open and he didn't think it was advisable to have any neighbors walk past.

"..and me bums killing me." Doyle ended, sucking in a breath when his partner rolled off him. "Jeez mate, you weigh a bloody tone-"

"Complaining 4.5?" Bodie quipped, getting up to close the front door and bolt it. He toyed with the idea of switching on the lights but decided against it, returning to Doyle's side and staring down at Ray's sprawled figure. Ray looked great in his eveningwear. "You planing on lying there all night?"

"Thinkin' about it." Doyle mumbled before slowly sitting up. He eyed his partner with slight apprehension. "Bodie- "

"Here," Bodie offered reaching down to grab the other man and haul him upright. Keeping hold of his partner's hand he pulled him gently closer, his expression turning very serious. "I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do. But Ray," he paused, "..I can't promise to forget anything that's happened between us either. Nor can I say I'm sorry."

Considering this, Doyle studied the other man's handsome face, letting his eyes drop down to Bodie's stern mouth. "I'm not asking you to." He returned, making his mind up to follow his heart whether it was right or wrong. Knowing this could ruin their partnership, could ruin their careers if Cowley found out.

"That's alright then," Bodie said on a breath, relaxing instantly, his mouth curving up into its typical smirk.

"So...?" Ray blinked at his partner, lost now as the atmosphere changed yet again.

"So," Bodie elaborated, rubbing his hands together. "I've always wanted to try out your bed."

"Christ, Bodie," Doyle sighed in exasperation.

"Come on old son."

"Listen-"

"No regrets." Bodie replied seriously again, moving forward to drag his partner close and taste the parted lips thoroughly. He could feel Ray tremble, could taste his desire, his fear and moderated the oral caress marginally. Breaking away he captured the green eyes and stared into his partner's confused gaze. "You ever done this before mate?"

"As a kid-"

"I don't mean wanking off behind the school shed neither." Bodie broke in, keeping it intimate, but also matter of fact. Too much was at stake to risk a misunderstanding.

"Then no." Doyle admitted softly.

Slowly Bodie let his smile increase with that whispered honesty, moving his fingers behind Ray's neck to massage his tense muscles. It pleased him to know that but it also placed a very precious burden in his hands and Bodie shifted closer to his temperamental partner. "Then we take it slow-"

"I'm not a sodding female!"

The outrage was back and Bodie's grin widened. This was the Doyle he adored, and he rewarded him with another hard kiss, biting his lip in parting. "Never thought you were, mate."

"Bodie-"

"Let's try this again." Bodie suggested, running his free hand down his partner's soft cotton shirt to tease erect nipples. He heard Ray gasp.

"Christ!"

"I want to have sex with you." Bodie whispered, shifting even nearer and pressing a thigh between the other man's slender legs. "I'll make you come so hard you'll start to think you've died."

Sucking in a painful breath, Doyle couldn't have protested even if he wanted to, his body so hypersensitive to Bodie's scent and his experienced touch. This was what he wanted, what he had dreamed about and he nodded his consent, willingly agreeing.

Laughing softly, Bodie released the swaying body and grabbed Ray by the belt tabs, yanking him towards the bedroom and the spacious queen size bed hidden there.

---

Discarding their clothing, Methos didn't have a clue how they ended up in bed, his mind so befuddled by what MacLeod was doing to his body. It had been so long since he'd had a lover whose physical beauty matched the sensory images circulating in his steamed brain, but MacLeod did just that. The Highlander's addictive Quickening overwhelmed him, and he gasped out in pleasure when Duncan's sensual mouth did wicked things to his throat and nipples. And the worst part was, he could hear his Scottish lover snickering while that damnable mouth assaulted his abdomen, turning his gut to water and his resolve to dust. He really should at least try to protest. "Mac-"

"You taste of the hot earth," MacLeod whispered, his eyes closed while he savored the essence of the being held captive in his hands. "You taste of the sun. Of fermented grapes on a warm spring day."

Fucking hell, Methos opened his mouth petrified - terrified - his nostrils strangely filling with the scent of heather and salt, Scotland at its most primal level. It refreshed and calmed him, making him even more receptive as he reached down to tangled his fingers in Duncan's thick, long hair absorbing the silkiness and warmth. "Mac," he mouthed.

Moving up the spread body, MacLeod lent down over his partner, drinking in the sight of him and loving the dazed look in the gold-green eyes. "Just how old are yew?" He whispered, marveling at the easiness of the desire and love that blanketed them. With a jolt MacLeod comprehend that he would have fallen in love with this creature whether Adam was male or female, the gender didn't matter for it was the uniqueness of Adam's spirit and Quickening power that called to his soul. It thoroughly entrapped him and that thought made him smile.

"Does it matter?" Methos asked, so utterly lost in this man's power. His willpower fading to nothing and he knew with certainty he would tell this man everything if MacLeod pushed, if he insisted on an answer.

"Noh," MacLeod assured, skimming fingers down to heighten the pleasure between them. Bending he lick-kissed the heated flesh of his lover, tasting the sweat and savoring it. "I want-"

"Absolutely," Methos answered without hesitation, finding a measure of sanity returned as the Scot's body moved away from him. He had to control this wild desire, so he purposely turned over, offering the other man his trust and body, but trying valiantly to safeguard what was left of his tattered heart. If he didn't look at MacLeod he might be able to shove this into category two....

Watching the slender body turn so gracefully, MacLeod almost came there and then with the realization he was finally being offered freely what he craved. He ran appreciative eyes down the long, lean back muscles then caressed the warm skin with his hands, loving the feel of this man in every way. His lips followed the path of his hands and he lent down to taste and tease the aroused flesh. Slipping a hand under the narrow hips, he cupped his lover's trapped sex, releasing a soft sigh into the moist skin and feeling Adam squirm. Fondling the hard sex in his hand, he bit Adam's rear, hearing his bedmate gasp, then he moved up the warm body to gently nip the skin over one pale shoulder in affection. "Do you have anything?"

Trapped on the edge of release, Methos panted for breath almost telling the Scot not to bother with niceties. Then he remembered what century he was in, and blinked over at the small bag he had on the bedside table. Fuck, he was an idiot. Why couldn't he simply fall into mindless lust with a creature like MacLeod?!? Why did it have to be fucking love!?! Stretching up he made a grab for the bag, stilling when MacLeod's broader hand covered his. Dark over light - so perfect - and he swallowed, traitorously liking the imagery that produced.

"Here," MacLeod growled, his own loins aching with need. He grabbed the small toilet bag and took out the lubricant, sending his sprawled lover an amused grin before hastily applying it to his engorged shaft.

Rising up on his knees, Methos was glad he could not see the Highlander and he closed his eyes tightly before cursing the God's of Fate and Love when he tried to divorce his heart from this coupling. But it didn't work and he cried out, feeling the first welcoming touch of MacLeod's fingers on him, and prayed for them both when MacLeod explored him with such heartrending tenderness. "Mac, please-"

Pulling Adam closer, MacLeod found himself impaled on the hot body without trying, feeling Adam surge back to pin him and ignite his loins. His heart hammered in his chest almost deafening him and he instinctively dragged his lover up to sit the other man in his lap. Then he wrapped strong arms around the heaving body, holding Adam still, preventing him from moving an inch, wanting this to last for as long as possible.

"Mac?" Methos gasped, his insides on fire in an erotic mixture of pleasure and pain while he lent back into MacLeod's damp chest and let the other man take his complete weight.

"Just.... try and relax," MacLeod whispered urgently, the muscles gripping his shaft threatening to devastate him and he ran possessive hands over the body he clutched so desperately. This was no longer simply sex - never had been - and MacLeod rejoiced in the feel of finally finding a lover who opened his mind to new possibilities. Someone he could love so unconditionally and openly. Someone who understood the pain of immortality and who gave so absolutely as Adam did. It was like his whole life had been rushing to this point and he kissed the body held safe in his arms, tasting the warmed flesh and conveying his feelings fully. "You are perfect," he whispered into the damp skin, thoughtfully caressing Adam's chest and nipples, enhancing the sharing. "I love your taste. Your smell. Your mind-"

"Jesus, Duncan," Methos breathed in hopeless wonder, flabbergasted by the emotions churning between them.

Hearing the other verbalize his name with such passion, MacLeod gently started to rock forward, heightening the thrill and absorbing Adam's cry of pleasure.

---

Jumping, startled, Doyle watched the hands that trailed down his chest and he willed himself to relax. This was what he'd asked for, but now it seemed harder than when Bodie had jumped him in the living room. They were standing beside his bed and he sucked in a breath when his expensive trousers slithered down his legs to land on the floor. Shivering in fear and anticipation he tensed, feeling Bodie's nakedness behind him. Fantasies were one thing, reality was down right scary, he decided. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go through with this, only knew that at present he felt safer facing a dozen highly armed terrorists than one naked Bodie. "Bodie-"

Reading his partner's agitation expertly, Bodie gave the slender man a shove, sending him face first down on the bed.

"What the-"

Climbing on the bed after him, Bodie deliberately slid up behind Doyle and waited for him to roll over and glare at him. It was worth the wait and he gave his partner a superior smirk before claiming the protesting mouth skillfully. It shut Doyle up, and he filed that useful piece of information away for later consideration.

Traitorously his body responded eagerly to the caresses and Doyle gasped, shocked at how easily Bodie reduced him to a sex-starved addict with so few touches. He felt those callused hands tease him to full hardness while sharp teeth marked his throat before he could object. "Hey!"

Grinning evilly, Bodie, fingered the purpling bruise. "Always fancied seeing you with a hickey."

"Sod off!" Doyle growled, losing the advantage again when Bodie's teeth latched on to a nipple. It was amazingly sensual and he had to admit that Bodie had a better mouth than any bird he could remember bedding and he arched up, lapping up the pleasure.

"Bloody little prick tease," Bodie whispered affectionately, content to work his partner's body first and wring control from Ray's hands. He trailed his mouth down the slender frame, tracing old injuries with his fingers, paying special attention to the areas he knew Ray was susceptible to and getting rewarded with gasped obscenities. If only Doyle's critics could see him now, Bodie mused in glee, bending down to swallow his partner's proud shaft and make the other man even more incoherent. He sucked on him hard, lifting his head and moistening a finger before gently circling the tight anal muscle.

"Bodie-"

It was a gasped warning and Bodie grinned wickedly up at him, dropping his head down again to give him the blowjob of his life. Slowly, he teased the tight muscle, working a finger in, stretching his partner until he was able reach deep inside the heaving man and force him over the edge of release by multiple stimulus.

"Bloody hell...."

Snickering Bodie turned his finger again, hearing Doyle groan in pleasure as the spent shaft twitched interestingly. "Is that all you can say mate?" He asked innocently.

"You're a fucking freak of nature."

Sliding up the sweat damp body of his partner, Bodie leaned down low over Doyle and searched his gaze. "It's a good thing for you that I am, or who would control you, sunshine?"

Giving an answering grin, Doyle glanced at Bodie's unrelieved erection. "I suppose you want some help with that?"

---

Wishing now that he'd had the courage to face MacLeod, Methos stilled, accepting the feather-like caresses over his throat and chest as the delicious sensations continued to roll up from his loins. Whoever taught Duncan MacLeod the art of lovemaking needed to be commended, he acknowledged silently, letting his head drop back onto MacLeod's shoulder. They were still joined, still riding on the brink of a release that promised the impossible and he shuddered when MacLeod enclosed his hot erection within the Scot's large hand. "You'll have to tell me who taught you this," he whispered, starting to feel safe in the dimness of the room and the cradle of the Highlander's arms.

Smiling into the hot skin under his mouth, MacLeod shook his head, lifting his face to bury his nose in Adam's soft hair. His intentions were simple - he wanted Adam to fall in love, he wanted the other man to become so besotted with him through their lovemaking that he could convince the other man to stay in the morning. Because from what he had glimpsed of this man's inner beauty and courage, he was not sure he could live without him.

Pressing down more firmly into MacLeod's lap, Methos bit his lower lip, adoring the freedom, the pleasure, before gripping the arm holding him so securely. But he was now ready for the more powerful touches, and he wiggled, pleased when MacLeod gasped behind him, instinctively surging up inside his welcoming body.

"If I tell you who taught me this, will you tell me your real name?" MacLeod asked in a soft persuasive whisper, shifting their positions so he could direct the pleasure and control his lover's movements. He ran a hand down to Adam's thigh, massaging the long muscles, teasing him gently even as he heard the other whimper in delight and need.

"My name?" Methos repeated breathlessly, puzzled for a prolonged moment until he remembered where he was. For a moment he had forgotten, the experience stripping him down to his elemental desires that opened the way for a dangerous honesty. This was a powerful gift MacLeod held over him, and he was so tempted to give in and confess everything to the magnificent Scot.

"I need to know all of you," MacLeod coaxed, increasing the tempo between them, loving the friction of skin on skin, the aroused taste of hot, damp flesh, the thrill of the Immortal buzz that filled his head and body - and he pushed deeper into the silky heat entrapping him.

"I-I...."

"What is your name," MacLeod repeated like a litany, his voice dropping to match his thrusts while he dragged them both to the brink of release. The curling, insidious sensations in his loins filling him in hot burning desire and he held Adam back, prolonging the anticipation. "Yewr name-"

"Met...." Methos gasped his body convulsing in climax as MacLeod tore a scream from him. Every nerve ending tingled, his logic circuits fried by the intensity of the climax while he felt the Highlander thrust into him with a passion and strength that was frightening. Then he was falling forward, his body damp and shaking and he felt MacLeod landed on his back, crushing him into the cold sheets. There they lay, entwined and sedate while the madness of the moment passed.

Dragging in a breath, MacLeod tired to think clearly, playing over in his mind what he had almost learned, knowing now that his lover would eventually tell him the truth. So Adam's name stared with M - his lover's true name, and the last bit of deception that lingered between them was slowly vanishing.

"God, Mac, but you are a bastard," Methos wheezed, far from upset as he snuggled into the warming sheets, stupidly happy with himself. This was definitely the dreaded category five, he intoned, especially when he wasn't overly annoyed with the Scottish boy scout for trying to wring his identity from him with sex. Rather, he was impressed.

---

"You want to-" Doyle started a little nervously, studying Bodie's impressive erection. This was not a position he'd found himself willingly in before.

"No, mate." Bodie assured him.

"But," Doyle frowned, not sure if he was insulted or relieved. "You don't want me?" He cringed at his own words, wondering when he had turned into a desperate teenager again.

"When you're ready." Bodie assured him gently, settling a hand on his partner's chest. "Right now I want you to turn this skinny frame of yours over."

"But-"

"Trust me Ray. Please?"

Narrowing his eyes, Doyle sent him a hard look then complied, suspiciously glancing back over his shoulder. He grunted out in surprise when Bodie's weight landed on his back. "I thought you said-"

"Irritating little sod," Bodie muttered, positioning himself between Doyle's closed thighs and thrust down into the hollow created. In all honesty just the thought of having Doyle this way was enough to bring him off, for he had fantasized about Ray from the moment Cowley had partnered them. It was only Ray's hard-nosed, tough-man act that had made him keep his distance. A distance he was now going to close with a skillful seduction. It would take time but eventually he would get what he wanted from his tight-arsed little partner. Just visualizing that arse opening to him, had Bodie groaning in pleasure and he thrust down urgently, mouthing the back of Ray's neck until climax swept over him and he ground down into the compliant heat below.

"Jeez Bodie," Ray muttered feeling both honored and shocked at what Bodie had just done, then pulling a face when his partner's cum trickled between his thighs. This was not what he had expected, and he started to doubt his earlier convictions. Feeling Bodie roll off him, he glared at his partner, getting confused as hell when the reality of what they had just done hit him. He was insane. Adam Taylor was a fucking lunatic to make him believe a romance was possible with a man like Bodie. "Christ!" He muttered louder, reaching over for some tissues to clean himself.

"Come here-"

It was murmured in a low sexy tone, and Doyle froze. Then he had little option for Bodie rolled over to him and dragged him down before covering him in an octopus type hug. Doyle pulled a face wondering if this was what all Bodie's birds felt like after sex. Bloody typical. It was obvious they both expected different things from a relationship. So why had he been so stupid to forget that fact?! One thing was for certain, he knew this 'morning after' was going to be damn interesting.

---

Sliding off his lover, MacLeod peered over Adam's shoulder and saw the other man had fallen asleep. Stunned, he stared around a little lost then carefully gathered up the covers and settled back down. He would have liked to talk a little more, and he glared at the ceiling. Sighing resigned he cuddled up to the other man's warmth and started to plan the morning's arguments.


...Continued in Part 3...

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