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Chapter Text

"Coming!" Dr. Anne Lindsey yelled at the top of her voice. Apparently her visitor hadn't heard. The doorbell rang again. Hurriedly she finished diapering Mary and set the little girl down amongst her toys on the living room floor. After a brief look around she ran to open the door.

The tall young man standing on the porch was a complete stranger, so she didn't open the fly-door.

"Hi. Are you Anne? Anne Lindsey?"

She nodded slowly.

The man gave her a meaningful look. "I helped paint this house."

Anne opened the fly-door. "You're a friend of Duncan's?"

"I hope so." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I hear you know..."

Finally she understood what the meaningful look had been about. "Oh! You mean you are..." It felt impolite to actually say it, so she left the sentence unfinished.

He nodded. "Immortal."

What could she say? "Ummm..." She shrugged. "Why don't you come in?"

"Thank you."

She led him into the living room and offered him a seat beside her on the couch. As he lowered his tall frame into the cushions, he briefly reminded her of Duncan, but the moment passed all too quickly. Just some stupid wishful thinking.

She saw him give Mary the same glance she had earlier when she had set her down here: he was checking there was nothing around with which her child could hurt herself. The same double-take at a block that looked sharp-edged but was in fact inflatable.

Then he returned his attention to Anne herself, and asked, "Are you still keen to have an Immortal's blood sample?"

She almost gaped. "You really mean that?"

"No, I've come here all the way from Paris just to pull your leg."

"Paris!?" She noticed she almost sounded hysterical. But ... well, Paris held some special memories.

"Never mind. Needless to say, you'd have to agree to some conditions."

"What do you have in mind?" She felt breathless. Finally she could do some real research and maybe give medicine an incredible headstart!

"You can have a blood sample and research it to your heart's content. But you cannot EVER inject it into a mortal, tell anyone about Immortals or about myself. I've been through witchhunts before, and I have no desire to repeat the experience. This is completely and utterly inofficial and under the table. What you can do is find things you can look for in your research. Nobody but you can ever know about the existence of this sample."

He was not threatening her, and he had put all this very politely. It sounded all quite reasonable, too. Yet cold fear filled her gut. If she didn't follow those instructions, she was sure he'd have her suffer for it.

"What are you getting out of this?"

"There is something I want to know." He looked at her, and met her gaze levelly. There was no threat in his eyes. Only sadness. "I can't be killed by a virus, but can I spread it? Does it survive in my body?"

"Well,..." She hesitated again. Did she want to even risk this?

He interrupted, "One more condition." Nodding at the little girl, he continued, "Don't let her get anywhere near it. Or me. Just in case." This time he avoided her eyes. "I've been exposed to quite a bunch of horrors, as deseases go."

A moment ago she had been on the verge of declining, but now she wanted to do this for his own sake, as well. Who knew what she'd find out?

Chapter Text

As soon as Duncan saw Methos lounging on his bed, he knew something profound was going on. It always was when Methos' shameless intrusions upon his privacy stopped irking him.

The man on the bed didn’t turn to him but kept bouncing a small red rubber ball off the wall while he stated, "Anne's a nice kid."

Duncan was not in the mood to cater to the communication needs of a peeved Methos. He skimmed through his letters before he responded, "So?"

"Not much love left between the two of you, if that's all you have to say." It wasn't like Methos to deliver his little jabs so half-heartedly. What the heck was up?

"I assumed you were making a point." The Scottish burr crept back into MacLeod's voice as it usually did when he was angry or agitated. "Care to tell me what the point was, or do you want to keep me guessing?"

"My, my are we touchy today!" Yes, something was definitely up. The teasing was still half-hearted, and Methos was nervous, it seemed. "I wouldn't have brought her up if I had thought you still felt that way about her."

Duncan sighed. The joke was getting awfully old. "I don't love her. I'm fond of her. There’s a difference."

Methos stopped bouncing the rubber ball off the wall. "Really?" Nothing half-hearted about that.

Duncan tilted his head to the side as he met Methos' curious gaze. "What exactly am I missing here? Are you... ?"

The ancient Immortal sulked, "Don't get all protective, would you?" He sat up and started dribbling the ball on the floor.
Methos and Anne? It couldn't work. No way in hell. Duncan took a deep breath. "Look, have you even talked to her about this? Do you even know why she chose to live her life without me?"

The dribbling ceased. "I can imagine a bunch of reasons, but enlighten me." His features displayed a mix of derisive wit, genuine interest, and a hint of insecurity.

"She left me because she found herself siding with me in the Game. She feels she can't side in a fight to the death. She expects to side with life, full-stop. The Game has no place in that concept."

Methos rose and laid a soft hand of MacLeod’s shoulder. "Duncan, you were an idiot to let her get away with that meagre an argument."

"Maybe." He smiled at the older Immortal. "No point in crying over spilt milk, is there?"

"I don't intend to spill it." If you thought about it, it sounded like a warning, but Duncan knew well enough that in reality, the ancient one was asking his permission. In his own, peculiar way.

Duncan touched his fist against the other man's shoulder. "Good luck." He smirked. Definitely no way in hell.
Methos nodded.
Suddenly a thought struck MacLeod like a lightning bolt out of a clear blue sky. "How come you know her?"

Strange how cold the smile on the thin lips was. "You told me she asked you for a blood sample, remember?" Stunned, he just nodded. The face was serene, the eyes met his coolly enough. Yet somehow Duncan could feel Methos' tension. "I gave her one."

"And?" He felt strangely breathless.

"It got us both nowhere." There was none of the familiar edge to Methos' voice. None of the sudden passion that came and ebbed away every so often in his speech. In fact, Duncan doubted that he had ever heard him speak this softly. "The first blood tests revealed nothing out of the way. And then... it seems it fell to dust." Duncan thought he sounded sad, though he couldn't be sure.

It seemed lame, but one had to say something. "I understand."

The ancient Immortal shrugged, "What was that you said about spilt milk?"

The rubber ball landed neatly in the waste-paper basket.

Chapter Text

Anne opened the fly-door and let him in. Little Mary was sleeping in her crib. She sighed as he stepped in, but she didn't wake. Good. That meant he had Anne to himself for a while.

"You asked me to come?" He didn't disguise the hopeful tone. There was no need.

Anne's face lit up. "Yeah, I've thought up another, simpler way of testing your blood. The idea is to inject a virus directly into the sample and see what happens before it disintegrates. To put it simply, ..."

"I got the gist of it," he interrupted her with a chuckle.

"Uh, sorry." She was quick on the uptake, indeed. "Would you... ?"

He rolled up his sleeve and answered as casually as he could, "Certainly, my love."

"Thanks, that's... Beg your pardon?"

He extracted the syringe from her fingers and took the blood sample himself. "I’ve fallen in love with you." He pulled out the needle, cleaned it with alcohol and handed it to a somewhat perplexed doctor. "Any chance of your ever returning the feeling?"

"But ... you're like Duncan. I can't let... I can’t fall in love with an Immortal. You've got to understand..."

Methos didn't shout, but he raised his voice enough to be sure he'd catch her attention. "Anne."

She looked up at him, her face a question-mark.

"I'm not Duncan. If you say you can't fall in love with me, that's all very well, but I won't take your word for it. You'll have to prove it. I, on the other hand, will try and prove that Immortals are not all that unbearable."

"You're not unbearable at all, it's just that I can't..." Ha, she was out of words again. Now he merely needed to press his advantage home!

"Please. Be fair. At least let me try to convince you. It might help that I don't generally take on every evildoer and their uncle. It might not be helpful that I'm sort of a pet target for some people. No matter. We'll see how it goes." He smiled at her brightly.

"Listen, Adam, there's no point. You can't change my mind." Ugh, it was a shame how stubborn those young people could be!

Time to get serious. "It doesn't matter whether I can or no. I'm going to try, and you can't stop me from trying, because it's bloody well worth it. Can we agree on that?"

"That's very flattering, but ..."

"Anne, are you listening? I'm not Duncan. You can't push me around like that. You can't lie to me. I don't accept that kind of thing just because I love you. Be honest: You want to be wooed. So, give me a chance to seduce you despite your doubts."

"You're ..."

"A fool, I know. That's my look-out." Hmm, looked like his casual treatment of possible heart-break was taking effect: Anne was smiling shyly at the floor. "So, if I’m not unbearable," Methos therefore continued, "then do bear with me and put your prejudices to the test. Go on a date or two with me."

It was unfair, of course. But then, so was her position. It was always unfair. In love and war...

She lifted her head to look him square in the eye. "Look, I..."

"You need time?"

She nodded, amused by his impatience.

"No problem. That's one of the advantages of being Immortal. We have time in abundance, judging from your point of view. Just let me know when you're ready." He did intend to win this. However, the moment called for a distraction. "Now, the virus? And while we're at it, what type of virus is it?"

"Oh, just the normal influenza shot. I want to watch what it actually does to the blood sample under the microscope."

For the first time tonight, he gave the idea some thought. "I see where you're coming from, but I wouldn't expect that research design to get you very far. It's not like we can't contract sickness. It's over faster, perhaps, but I'm not sure if that isn't just because ..." He stopped himself and chuckled, shaking his head. "Never mind."

Anne frowned at him. "What's so funny?" She was cute when she was suspicious.

He grinned. "If you waste the sample without result, you'll have to keep me around to get another."

She rolled her eyes, but replied with a smile, "I'll risk it."

Chapter Text

"DANGIT!" Anne yelled, remembering too late that her little daughter was still asleep. Wailing answered her, and Anne groaned.

"I'll clean this up," Adam told her, gesturing at the bloody glass shards. "You go comfort Mary."

As she returned with the little girl on her arm, she saw him mopping up the last remainders of the blood sample and sterilizing a portion of the floor.

Adam nodded at the two of them with a really cute smile. He gestured, obviously trying to tell Anne something which involved his leaving ad maybe returning later or something, but she couldn't really make head or tail of this. She just nodded, anyway, and he left.

A little while later, the lawn-mower sprang to life on her front lawn, and everthing fell into place. Anne grinned, glad this was getting done. The man certainly had his uses.

An hour or so later, the rumbling motor noise finally stopped, and a bit later there was a knock on the door. "Come on in!"

Adam entered, leaned against the door from the inside and lifted his left leg, indicating the widdershins. "I think I got you another test subject." Anne looked askance at him. "A tick. Filled not only with its very own bacteria, viruses and whatnot, but also with some of my blood by now, I would hope. Where would you like me to put it?" Trying to see the thing a little closer, he was turning his leg in his hands ... It looked more than uncomfortable, but he was keeping his balance and composure, so she did her best not to laugh.

In the end, she failed, all the same. Especialy when little Mary started giggling. Anne had a laughing fit so bad her face turned all red and she had trouble breathing.

Adam stood on both feet again, expression sheepish. "I'll leave it to suck a little longer, just until you are ready to ..." His expression changed. "Darn." He bent over, picked something up from the floor and looked at it closely. "It died and fell off me. - Still want it?"

Anne handed him a test tube to put it in. "That's ... uh, I was going to say unfortunate, but I guess it does say something about how your body works. So, luck doesn't really enter into it, right?"

"I ... I don't rightly know. What I do know, though, is that you might want to give this to a biologist and ask what caused its death. Just ... be careful about how much you give away."

Chapter Text

Anne had just settled down with a glass of wine and a snack of cut carrots in front of the tv after putting her little daughter to bed. She had been zapping through the channels for a while and had just come to the conclusion that the documentary about the Brontë sisters was going to be her best option. Now all she had to do was not fall asleep...

When suddenly she felt her neck hairs raise and a voice behind her said, "Your door lock needs repair," she very nearly choked on a piece of carrot. Adam continued calmly, "I'll take care of it tomorrow, as soon as the sun is up."

Having regained her breath and composure, Anne remarked with spirit, "I didn't notice anything funny when I opened the door. Why would it need repair?"

"Did you notice it does not close well but the key goes in very easily?" He was coming round the corner of the sofa and dropped in the comfy chair to her right. Funny that he claimed to be in love and yet he never so much as touched her.

"Yeah, so? I have to pull a little harder when I close, but that's no biggie."

He leaned forward, his eyes coming into the light and revealing their startlingly beautiful green colour. "It's just a guess, but your lock may have been tampered with when the bolt was closed. That would mean they couldn't come in and are waiting for an opportunity. The risk isn't worth taking, so I'll swap the lock, and make a show of it. Okay?"

She nodded, overwhelmed by .. she couldn't really name it, but there was a force shining through his words that made her shiver - in a good way. He worried about her, and she had always found that kind of caring attractive in a man.

"Fine, that's settled then," Adam stated, leaning back in his chair again. "So, anyway, how did it go? The microbiology lab?"

"Says the tick was covered in scar tissue. Exceptional find, probably wasn't dead when it fell off, actually. Ticks breathe, like, 6 times an hour or so, and apparently it suffocated slowly. Pretty cool, huh?" She beamed at him, then added as an afterthought, "I mean, that they can tell what it died of."

Adam smiled, and she had the distinct feeling that he wanted to stroke her, but he did not move. "It is. Scar tissue would mean time had passed, though, so... may have nothing to do with me at all."

"That's true." She grinned, "You'd have to get bitten by a tick that has been checked prior to the bite." She laughed, but then the laugh was backstabbed by another thought occurring to her. "Can you contract meningitis?"

"Of course. Just not with the same effects as you. At least, in all my time I've never heard of an Immortal whom it turned into a moron or... In fact, I haven't seen one contract it, either. I'd say it is at least extremely unlikely. And never deadly, to us."

"Well, that's a relief." This was really interesting. "So you don't need shots, either, do you?"

"Sometimes I get shots when they are in the try-out stage, out of curiosity." He was serious, right?

"Curiosity?"

Slight hesitation told her he was mincing his words here. "I want to know what it feels like. After all, I've been a doctor a number of times, and actually feeling it gives me a different level of understanding."

Yes, he was serious, indeed. Very serious. Time to lighten the mood. "Well, for curious cats Immortality must come in really handy." She winked at him.

He chuckled, but the smile did not reach his now dark eyes. "Cats are not immortal, they just have nine lives." The comment would have angered her, were there not this ring of a hidden sadness to it. But how to get him into a better mood, then? Oh, yes.

"So, why do you even doubt that germs can't survive getting into your blood? It does not sound that likely."

"Sweetheart," he implored her, giving her a jolt by using that word, "as you know well enough, your average mortal has all kinds of viruses in their blood without ever contracting the corresponding sickness - what makes you think we don't?"

"The point is that your average mortal does not spread the disease, either, so why should you?"

He paused, giving this some thought. "Well, we may have age-old viruses that nobody is used to anymore. What about those?"

Anne thought briefly, then she ventured, "Joe says that quite a lot of Immortals have come to Seacouver because of Duncan. The records show no elevated level of ancient or unknown diseases here, or I'd have heard of it." She looked at him. "So, there."

Adam shook his head. "Most of them were not that old, they don't carry really old germs."

"Okay, let's try another approach. How long since you last ..." Oh, goodness, why was this so hard to pronounce? "...made love?"

She had thought him gloomy before, but now she realised she had been mistaken. Hitherto he had been serious. NOW gloom had built a wall around him. He quietly answered, "Not long enough, but too long to be a clue. I've ... come in contact with something ... unprecedented since."

Well, dang.

Chapter Text

When Adam explained, "I've ... come in contact with something ... unprecedented since," everything fell into place for Anne. Of COURSE! "So you volunteered for some government project?"

He hesitated, his eyes searching her soul.

"It's ok," Anne reassured him, "I realise you're not free to talk about it, then."

He seemed relieved. "Let's just say I'm the only one left who came into contact with it and is still alive. That I know of, that is. It didn't happen here, you see."

Oh, for crying out loud, she'd all but forgotten he was Immortal. "What ... time frame are we talking here? Months, years, decades?"

"What a wonderful documentary this is. Shall we watch it?"

For a second, Anne was vexed at his reaction, then she remembered he was probably just trying to protect her. Which probably meant it wasn't exactly decades. So she tried, "Months, then. I see."

Adam smiled at her, offering no direct response, then he looked back at the screen.

She took another bit of carrot and munched it thoughtfully, before she remembered her manners, fetched her guest a glass, poured him some wine and settled down in her chair again. Quiet and comfy, at last, she fell asleep within half an hour.

Chapter Text

Last week Adam had mentioned in passing that he trained here every week. When Anne got off work early, she decided to drop by. Maybe she could watch a little. She had enjoyed watching Duncan do his katas. Just not when he fought for real... She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image.

She entered the building and found the appropriate door. A large grey sign had been nailed to it. In bold orange letters it said, "Blade Sports Club" and in smaller script "registered association". Beneath that, a sketch of a man cutting through what looked to Anne like a rolled carpet with his sword. Drawing a deep breath, she entered.

Through a large glass door she could see a huge training room, its floor covered with tightly packed training mats. Adam was quite alone there and doing some sort of kata, moving swiftly. His dark grey tee bore the same bold letters as the sign on the door. And some dark stains at the back and beneath the armpits. She hesitated, enjoying the view. His motions were fluid, yet with an edgy energy... Suddenly his pace changed, his sword moved in a flurry, then the tight circles grew larger again, his whole style kept changing, it seemed to her.

All of a sudden he jumped and about-faced, staring directly at her, focused and ... She had seen aggression there, but it was gone before she could so much as blink. He smiled and waved, then came towards her in long strides.

Anne pushed the door open. "Do I take the shoes off, or do we grab a bite? I don't have to get Mary until six."

He retrieved his shoes from hooks on the wall beside the door, stepped off the mat and put them on. Then he turned and bowed to the now empty training room, before he closed the door and returned his attention to Anne. "I say we grab a bite. But first..." He indicated a door she hadn't noticed before. "Shower." He winked and was gone.

**********************

The Korean restaurant they'd gone to had been just around the corner, and Anne was having a great time. So far, they had talked about all sorts of stuff, from child psychology to advanced physics, and her companion kept proving both entertaining and knowledgeable. Meanwhile, they had somehow ended up touching on the subject of magic and how all things supernatural went against her scientific mind-frame.

"And yet you believe in a God, and you know about ... us," Adam was saying with an amused smile. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio..." He did not finish the quote, clearly trusting her to know it. Then his amusement subsided and he stated in a low voice, "I am living proof that magic exists. If it helps at all, I, too, have problems believing in magic." He winked and smiled, but his eyes were dead serious and she thought there was some undercurrent of anger there, as well. Nothing she could be sure of, though. Maybe it was sadness?

"I'm kind of glad to hear you say that. At the same time it's..." Belatedly, it dawned on her that she herself felt a tad blue. "I think it's a pity. Small kids think in terms of magic all the time, so I guess it's our true nature, and we lose that. And with it, we lose a bit of our connection to... I don't know how to say it." She shrugged helplessly.

"Gaia." Just that one word. Sounded odd to her.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Gaia. Mother Earth. Our deepest roots. Is that what you mean?"

"Y... yeah, kind of, I guess. Or maybe more like our raw emotions. Intuition, to me, is the emotional equivalent of thinking. And it's definitely connected to the deepest roots of our self, for example when you..." That was when a thought struck her like blinding, searing lightning. "YIKES!" she yelped. "I've got it, seriously, I think I've got it, and all it takes is another sample and some of your time and mine, and a microscope, and I just have to..." She knew she was babbling far too fast.

"Anne." His voice, low and deeper in register than usual, broke through her excitement enough to to be audible above her faltering chatter. "You're allowed to breathe in between sentences, you know that, yes?" While she laughed and aimed a mock-angry gesture at him, he continued, "Explain it to me later. Whatever it is, I'm probably game." He smirked. "Now, what will you have for dessert, my little sparrow?"

No, this time she had definitely not misheard, either. "Your what?"

"You eat like a sparrow, as they say in some places. By their size, you can tell how much a sparrow eats, so there. Also, they are cute and clever. Don't like the endearment?"

She chuckled. "Better sing me a song one of these days. I'm not all that keen on birds."

He brought his face closer to hers so their eyes were level. "You just had duck, sweetheart."

Anne grinned, feeling light and giggly. "I didn't pet it, I ate it."

"But you seemed keen."

Her composure cracked, and she laughed out loud. "Touché."

Chapter Text

They drove back to Anne's place in their seperate cars. Anne had to go get her daughter Mary, so Methos knew he had time to make a stop of his own. He called ahead just to be on the safe side, though. When he arrived, one of the shop owners was already waiting for him, while the other was busy tending to some customers. Since this meant he still had a bit of time, he went and bought a box of chocolates made with sugar leaf instead of sugar. He had noticed that Anne had taken a liking to this plant for sweetening things. She was very disciplined with her diet, but obviously there was a suppressed sweet tooth there.

Apparently Anne had only just arrived, for loud wailing greeted Methos when got out of his car. Mary was protesting against unknown circumstances. Methos kept his distance, lest the little one might beg to be carried around. He was only too aware of the off-chance of his picking her up without thinking. After all, he had carried around so many children, even when it had been considered ill-advised by his then contemporaries. But now... Better not.

He watched Anne juggle with her things for a moment, then called out to her, "Don't worry about the groceries. You carry Mary, I take care of the rest. Good plan?"

She nodded, looking both exhausted and relieved. With a curt "Thanks!" she gathered the little girl up in her arms - the wails subsided immediately - and went ahead. Methos arranged the dozen or so plastic and paper bags so he could carry them in one go, shut the car properly and followed them up the garden path to the front door.

By the time he had put everything down in the kitchen, taken out a small glass and filled it with water, little Mary had fallen asleep on Anne's shoulder. He smiled at the two of them. He retrieved the box of chocolates and the paper-clad gift and set them on the table together with the small glass with water, directly in Anne's line of sight. Curious, she went closer. Methos stood back as she freed the small bunch of violets, lilac and lavender from their paper prison. She smelled them, bending her swan-like neck. His smile deepened with expectance. And indeed, her head came up with a look of surprise and wonder in her eyes. The scents had been enhanced with high quality essential oils.

"You are spoiling me, Adam!" she whispered a jocular reproach. "You're going to pay for this!" The gift had clearly been more successful than he had hoped.

"In blood?" he grinned, pulling up his sleeve and offering up the crook of his arm.

Anne rolled her eyes and replied in low tones, "Just give me a minute." Then she carried Mary over to her crib.

**********************

Even as they sat down together like conspirators, Adam still kept Anne literally at arm's length. Or kept himself at arm's length, as it were, for he never touched her. Poor man, this uncertainty had to be a horrible burden.

The excitement she had felt earlier surged through her again. "In medias res, shall we?"

He nodded solemnly, but his eyes shone with humour.

"Okay, then." Nervousness filled her gut, now that she finally had to put her idea into words. "My theory is that ... Well, you suggested yourself that it must be magic that keeps you alive like this." She looked into his eyes for approval, but their murky brown-green depth provided neither answers nor judgement. All they betrayed was curiosity. Unsettled, Anne continued more slowly, "My theory is that each of you is a kind of hub for this magic. Therefore, if I take some of your blood too far away from you for too long, it returns to the state it would be in if the magic were not there. And since you're ... old enough for this, yours turns to dust. You know, like any part of a human body explodes out in space once you remove it from the space suit." She wrinkled her nose. "Bad example, sorry." Stupid film she had watched last night...

Adam stayed aloof for a moment longer, waiting for her to continue. Then he asked, "So what is your conclusion?"

"We do the flu shot thing again, only this time you stay right beside me. No pacing the room or mowing the lawn, you know what I mean. Can we try that?"

Now Adam broke out a huge grin. "I'm beginning to like your theory," he chuckled. Then, more seriously, "The hub would be in our throat, then." He looked her right in the eye. He was taking her seriously, it dawned on her, but he dared not hope too much yet...

**********************

"I suppose I needn't tell you you have beautiful veins, right?" Anne's smile was brief and shy, gone too quickly, as was her gloved hand caressing the inside of his elbow. Now she was concentrating again on hitting the vein just right.

Methos commented dryly, "Thanks, that compliment means a lot to me." He waited, until she looked up at him with a somewhat embarrassed expression. Then he went on, "It means you're likely to come back for more." He held his features poised at that point where you're about to break into a smile. At her relaxing, he added, "Get back to work, my love."

Anne shook her head and rolled her large expressive eyes at him. "When you said you've been a doctor more than once, I should have realised you'd be a terrible patient."

"Touché," he acknowledged, entertained.

In the absence of further distractions - not that he wasn't tempted - she finally got the needle in and retrieved the necessary amount of blood.

Anne added the flu shot, shook the vial a few times and pulled her microscope closer. A tiny droplet was all they needed now. A few seconds later, Anne was looking through the ocular lens and watching in awe-struck silence for a beat or two.

Methos was curious, and therefore glad she slid the microscope closer to him. "Look! It's amazing! Just look!"

It took him a little while to adjust focus and objectives, but then he saw it, too.

Tiny flashes of blue. The same he knew from Quickenings and sometimes from his healing wounds.

They crawled around the edges of ... well, everything. Every red blood cell, every leukocyte, every virus, everything. What they were doing, however, was harder to tell.

"Any idea what's going on? What do you think?"

"Uh, let me look." She pulled the microscope back to herself and tried different objectives again. "It's really hard to ... Ummm..."

Silence fell, as Anne did her best to answer his query. A smacking noise here and there spoke of her discontent. He waited. Waited and watched. Her slender neck bent into an elegant arch. Her front teeth softly biting her lips, as she adjusted this and that. Her long fingers, busy turning knobs and things. Her coifed hair threatening to come undone. Anne.

Methos was tired of stopping himself from touching people, of avoiding contact. He could go on like this for a long time without problem, if he had to, but he loathed the restrictions. Even more than that, however, he detested their reason and he hated himself for how he had limited them.

Anne and Mary aside, he could not afford to wipe out mankind. He needed mortals. He needed their books, he needed their art, and life among them. They kept him sane. And alive, for they were his hiding place. And alive inside. He had been dead inside too long and never wanted to...

"Oh. My. G... What the heck IS that virus?!" Anne's subdued exclamation cut into his train of thought. Before Methos could tell her he had no idea, Anne added, "Just look at this thing!"

Carefully she slid the microscope back to him. "It's got frigging antlers or something - look! On the far right, bottom corner." Not that there really were corners, but he soon found the object she was referring to.

He watched it. The "antlers" were not very long, but there was something creepy to them. Then he realised they were not still like antlers. "Not antlers," he told Anne without taking his eye off the ocular lens. "Rather like snail feelers." Breathlessly he watched one of them stretch toward a red blood cell. It touched the cell, but instantly recoiled.

He slid the microscope back to Anne. In a voice that sounded monotone to him, he reminisced, "I was once asked by a madman if electricity could be sentient. Now I wonder just how mad he was."

"So it's not just me? The virus really is the only thing that's not covered in an electric current of sorts?"

Methos gave her wording serious thought. "I don't think it really is electric. It just looks that way to worldly eyes. It's how it expresses itself. - No, make that how it releases superfluous energy. Either way, I don't think you can put this in an electronic microscope and expect results."

At this, Anne's face fell, and Methos laughed. "Sorry to be so disappointing."

"No, I..." she began hurriedly. Then she smiled. "Sorry. I just hoped for too much."

"Patience, ma chérie. Keep watching that virus. I think something's happening there."

"Seriously?" Her eyes almost bulging, she dove quickly to look through the ocular again. "What the Dickens!? It lost an antler while we were talking!"

After a few moments of concentrated silence, Anne explained, "You were right, something is happening here. It's going real slow, though. It's like... The virus keeps trying to touch things, and each time it seems to melt a little where it touched that ... I'll call you current, k?" By now she was so absorbed by what she was doing, she was mumbling to herself rather than speaking to Methos. "Whatever does that mean?"

Methos replied, "Magic protects what belongs to me. The virus is not a part of me. I'm afraid I'm not going to be very helpful to you." Up until now he had not realised this could sadden him.

Anne looked back at him, serious. Solemn. "The real question is: Can I be helpful to you?" Her eyes left his. Maybe he had given away too much. She seemed shy now, speaking in a low voice. "I want to try."

Methos concentrated on acting and making his voice sound light-hearted, his grin big. "I shall be happy to let you." He paused and silently counted to three. Then, as if it were an afterthought, "Perhaps not today. It's getting late." He needed to be alone, beat the crap out of a sandbag and then think all this through systematically on his own. Things played into this that Anne was better off not knowing.

**********************

Joe's raspy voice sounded strained. "We need to talk." They hadn't spoken since the day Cassandra had almost taken Methos' head. Oh, yes, they did need to talk.

The telephone line crackled so loudly, he might as well have been in rural Mongolia instead of a log cabin in the outskirts of Seacouver. When the noise reached a reasonable level again, Methos answered, "We are talking."

"Don't talk to me like a teen!" Dawson thundered. "You know exactly what I mean. Eye to eye, man to man. I've got to know where I stand with you, and you know damn well that I do!"

"I have reasons for not coming near you right now, Joe, you're ... " he sighed. No, you didn't tell a man he was too frail, no matter how sound your reasoning was. "Joe, you're one of very few people I consider friends. I hope I can come and meet you soon, but there are things I must attend to first. Besides, I'd rather not meet MacLeod just now. He might have retained a grudge..." A half-truth, if ever there was one. Several of them, in fact. As often in his life, half-truths would have to add up to some sort of truthfulness.

"Fine." Clearly Joe had uttered that syllable through gritted teeth. "You've got three days."

"Joe." Thankfully, Joe didn't hang up on him. "As a token of peace, I have a secret to share with you." Dawson grunted gruffly, but Methos knew he had a foot in the door now. Joe loved secrets, and he could be trusted to keep them. Methos proceeded to explain in general terms what he and Anne had discovered. "Consequently, I gifted her with a state-of-the-art optical microscope," he was now saying, remembering Anne's delighted squeal and her giggle at being called a material girl. "We think that the flu shot isn't a tough enough challenge. After all, the viruses are half dead." He shrugged. "So now we are looking into different alternatives, and I really, really have to finish this now. I don't know if there will ever be such a chance again: a research partner I can trust without reserve. How often in your life have you met someone like that?"

"More often than you have, from the sound of it."

"Burnt child, Joe. Scorched. It takes a lot to trust after you've been through that time and again." Methos noticed dirt under his finger nails. Remainders of chopping wood and doing some less noble chores earlier. They were the rent he'd agreed to pay for the use of the cabin.

The grunt was softer this time, Joe was relenting. Methos was longing to hear him sing - it would have told him more about what Joe was really feeling. And it had always made Methos feel connected to him.

"I trust you, Joe. And Duncan. And now her. That's a lot of people, really."

"Is that your latest version of verbal puppy eyes?" Trust Joe to put his finger on the weak part of an argument. On the other hand, the snark was a good sign. Laying open your distrust required a measure of trust. Methos smiled briefly.

"I daresay it is. Give me two weeks, I beg of you."

A sigh, and a long pause.

"Dawson?"

"Fine," Joe consented grudgingly. "Two weeks."

The line went dead.

**********************

Methos had not ordered just one microscope, but two. Now he was sitting in front of the one he hadn't given to Anne, shot vials, blood samples, syringes and things surrounding him on the table. A leaf of paper was filling with systematic, but fairly illegible notes on his results.

Science had always been in his blood - long before it had become a known concept. When he had encountered its roots in Ancient Greece, it had been like his mind was coming home. And the more it had evolved since then, the more dominated it was by logic and systematic exploration, the stronger his sense of having found a home had become.

So science had always been in his blood. And now, he mused with a sense of foreboding, his blood was seeping into science, most likely.

**********************

"Anne!" he greeted her excitedly over the phone.

"Uh ... hi! Adam? ... Morning." She sounded dog tired.

"Did I wake you?"

"Err..."

"I did. Sorry."

"It's okay."

People who insisted on polite lies did themselves no favour around Methos. "Oh, good, because I've had a revelation!"

There was a brief moment of silence, then a low chuckle. "Really?"

"We must do the flu shot thing once more. We never watched what happens as you mix blood and shot. What if it's an instant thing?"

"Umm, uh..."

"Exactly!"

Anne laughed.

"Okay, okay. Just not right now."

Now it was Methos' turn to laugh. He had obviously overdone the eager student bit. "Of course not. Let me know when and where. I'll be there. Bye for now, my sweet. Sorry to have woken you."

He rang off.

**********************

Anne's hand was trembling as she placed the drop of flu shot on the tiny glass sheet, and the glass sheet in the confocal light microscope. Once that was done, she exhaled. Fine. Now the ... No, she wanted to get a look at it first.

"Oh, whammy, these things are slow. You know, I've never bothered to actually have a look at one of these. It's eery." She realised she was babbling. Adam's watching her in silence didn't exactly relieve her nervousness.

Anne looked him in the eyes, and instantly thought of hot caramel chocolate. She wasn't even sure why, because right now his eyes looked definitely green ... ish. Olive on the outer rim, she thought, with amber flecks near the iris. Full of warmth, at any rate. He was smiling at her, his soft lips distracting her. It was as if his eyes tried to tell her something urgent that his mouth wouldn't share. She swallowed. "Ah, where were we?"

His smile widened into a wicked grin. "You were asking me to shed blood for you." He stretched out his hand. Long, strong fingers, finely chiseled, but with wide tips. Haltingly, she put the syringe into his palm. It was hard to resist the urge to touch her hair, she noted irritably.

"Isn't that what knights in shiny armour are for?" Anne tried to enter into banter mode, but her voice didn't hit the right note.

"Not their own blood. Well, not preferably, as *you* would have it. - Besides, my armour isn't shiny. And it's a good thing I'm not wearing it at the moment," he added while pricking his skin with the needle. He picked up the droplet that formed on his skin, asking "Will this do?" as he handed her the syringe.

"Let's have a look." Again she held her breath as she watched through the ocular lens as the magnified point of the needle trembled above the fluid on the glass sheet. She waited for the right moment, then set it down. "Mixing" wasn't easily done under the circumstances, so for the moment she didn't try. Instead, she concentrated on what happened when she dropped another tiny sheet of glass on top of the fluids. A few tiny adjustments, and she got a much improved view of the sample. She looked out for areas where the two fluids where only just starting to mix properly - clusters of flattish platelets and woolly-looking leukocytes contrasting with less densely populated areas with the prickly balls that were influenza viruses. Ah, here, this area looked promising!

She gasped, "What was that? It's like... Again! You know, I think it's that current..." She wanted to call it a current of magic, but the scientist in her just couldn't accept that. "It shoots leukocytes at the viruses. That's what the antler thing was. There's one developing right here. As soon as a virus touched something, a t-cell was launched at it - bam! Like someone's playing a video game." She was shaking her head and again grew aware of being watched. "By the way, you don't seem to have an overly high lycocyte count, overall. You're just using them more efficiently."

She lifted her head off the microscope again to address him. "You know something?"

His eyebrows rose, but he said nothing.

"I don't think any germ survives long enough in your bloodstream to say, 'Hello, my name is Lactobacillus casei'." She smiled her most encouraging smile. "But if you want, we can see if we find any virus on your skin, in your spittle, the works."

His answer "I'd love that" clearly came from the heart. She just wasn't sure what method of looking for it he was thinking of...

**********************

Joe entered his flat. There had been nothing funny about the lock, but now his sixth sense told him something was off.

Without moving, he looked around the space he had just entered, a tiny anteroom with a coat-rack, shoe-racks and hats. Normally there'd be the crutches, but he'd left them in his bedroom. His gun was there, too.

He reached for a heavy wooden hanger and moved on as quietly as possible. By the time he'd reached his bedrooom door, though, he was breathing like a walrus. He threw the door open, the hanger raised for attack - and found Methos smiling up at him innocently, sipping beer from one of Joe's own cans. Of course. "I was a little early, so I let myself in."

"Five days early. You could have called."

"Consider it a compliment that I trust you further than I do telephone lines."

"You could have called AHEAD." Joe dropped his tired bottom onto the bed, where Methos had been sitting. "I'd have stocked up on beer."

"By the time I've finished telling you, you'll want a stronger beverage, I fancy." The tone was light, but you never knew with this Immortal.

"So? Tell me."

The account he got was short and neat, a summary that probably left some things out, but still... "And did you have any virus anywhere?"

"That's the funny part, yes, I did. I mean, I do. There are some germs that actually are protected by the magic. I expect they came with the package when I turned Immortal. My body's state was frozen in time, I imagine."

"So the big question how you turn Immortal is even harder to answer than before."

"True." Joe was exceptionally good at reading people, but Methos right now? The proverbial book with seven seals.

**********************

"Just one thing before I go." He took a deep breath and in a cultivated, vibrant tenor, he sang,

"Oh, charming lady dark of hair,
oh chaste young maiden true and fair,
wouldst thou take my proffered hand
and me for thy wedded husband?"

Anne was genuinely out of words. While he had sung, he had not been the man she had come to know, he ... he had been somebody entirely different. How could this be? Who was he really?

She was not given much time to contemplate the question, for he continued in his normal, casual tone of voice, "Feel free to take this personally on basis of the contemporary understanding."

"Uh ... pardon?"

"It's not genuinely medieval, and if it were, it would not mean what you think." Another one of those maddeningly enigmatic smiles. You never knew whether he was pulling your leg or educating you for real... "I wrote it just for you, and... " He put on his coat, opened the door and turned to face her again, already half outside. "... you'll hear it a few times yet." He winked, and closed the door behind him.

Chapter Text

"Oh, it's you." Anne sounded relieved and looked dog-tired. Little wonder. "What are you doing there?"
"I’m preparing Duncan’s birthday gift," Methos answered truthfully.
"What birthday gift? And why at…" – she consulted the kitchen clock – 4 am?"
"I often get up this early to train. I’m creating a kata for him."
Her expression turned a question mark.
"Surely you’ve seen him do martial arts without a training partner?"
"Oh, like when he trains to meditate?"
"Exactly. I’m putting moves together for him to use."
"Why?"
"This is new, and unique. And it gives away one of my ... tricks."