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 p