Immortal History Lessons 10

Immortal History Lessons 10

Tour de France

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Methos watched the clouds thin over Paris, the Eiffel Tower peeking out first like the red push pin on a map declaring itself the heart of France. While Notre Dame looked as if it were a magnificent thing that had sprung up from the ground whole, completely different from the way it reached for the heavens when you stood at its feet. All the little streets and divisions of time worn buildings, humming with history and life.

Seeing Paris spread out like this was a treat, one he would of shared with Sydney if she wasn't so peacefully drowsing on his shoulder. He hadn't felt so content in a long time; there were no worries. Just the two of them bound to enjoy themselves.

There'd been doubt, even a small jerk of panic first starting out that morning when he saw another smile, smaller and far more frail than the woman sleeping beside him. But then Sydney had given him that baffled little grin in the airport terminal she seem to have whenever she couldn't figure out his current behavior but still went along with him anyway. And the other smile not so much disappeared as smiled wider and turned into Sydney's. He never thought he'd ever have to ask Alexa permission to move on, but she'd given it without asking. For that he was grateful.

Now, watching her sleep, Methos wondered when they would stop speaking in puzzles to each other. The thought scared him because he couldn't let Sydney go through life thinking he was a saint or some naturally born man of honor.

But, for the time being he pushed dark memories aside and readjusted their positions so she'd be comfortable. It would still be awhile before they'd land and Methos wanted to share in that serene bliss she'd found somewhere in dreams.

---

When the speakers began telling them to prepare for landing Sydney woke up with a start. "Oh, crap. I wanted to see us come in over Paris," she said, leaning toward the window and staring down at what she could see of the city. Then she turned shining eyes on him. "I thought it was all some sort of dream. I've been hoping desperately not to wake up."

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but it's not." Methos joked, leaning back so she had full access to the view. "That really is Paris beneath you."

"And just as lovely as I remember it," she replied. "And I want to see everything. Not the tourist places, but the places you love here. The ones that mean something to you. And meet your paparazzi friend Joe too. Or... well, not if the places have bad memories for you," she added, frowning. "No glumness allowed."

"There's not many places that don't have at least one bad memory." Methos said with a shrug. "I even have a bad one attached to Joe's. Spilled a pint all the way down my shirt once, scarred me for life."

She eyed him a moment, but didn't challenge him on minimizing his past. "So, does Joe know we're coming? Or are you hoping to walk in and startle the devil out of the poor man?"

Methos smirked. "Would it be horrible of me if I was planning on the latter?"

"Oh, I think I should walk in alone, strike up a conversation with him, and only later you join us," she suggested with a devilish glint in her eye. "I'll ask him about dangerous men he's known. And I'm sure your name will come up."

"Me, dangerous." Methos asked innocently.

"Okay, mysterious men," she amended.

"I like that one," He said with a sagely nod.

"You would," she said laughing and poking him in the ribs. "Gods, I wonder how long it will take to get through security."

"Not long, I hope." Methos said, rubbing his ribs. He was itchy without the familiar steel under his coat, having had to send the broadsword ahead to make it through without a fuss. It was one of the reasons he hated flying, it left him naked. "Act like a proper ass instead of like a tourist and they won't try to screw you over here."

"Ah, spoken like an oblivious male. Trust me, he'll be whispering in my ear about screwing. French men...They live in hope."

"Who is 'he'?" Methos asked, suddenly very attentive to the conversation.

"The he who will want to look at my passport, ask me where I'm staying and since I'm single will ask for a date," she explained patiently. "If it's any consolation, Italy will be worse."

"I must have hit my head on the way in the plane," Methos said with slight confusion. "Because I don't remember going on this trip single. Or are you just using me to meet up with more exotic European men who you can leave me for?"

"My passport reads single," she explained patiently. "Not to worry, I've some experience in the matter. I'll smile and bat my eye lashes and look suitably blonde and all will be well."

"Not if the dark haired man standing behind you has anything to say about it."

She sighed. "You're the one who said we should act like a proper ass rather than a tourist. At least I warned you ahead of time," she pointed out. "Just let me handle it."

Methos snorted and ignored the sign that annoyingly blinked at him, warning it was time to fasten his seatbelt for landing. "And here I'd pegged you as the willing accomplice, not the instigator."

"Ah, well, this is a discovery tour, is it not?" she asked archly.

---

After Methos and the man passing Sydney through security had a short exchange of sharp French which by the satisfied smirk on the immortal's face, he won, they finally escaped from baggage check with their luggage and a long parsol tucked under Methos's arm.

"Hmmm," Sydney said eying the parasol. "That's innovative."

Methos shrugged. "When you claim a family heirloom has to be transported a certain way, no one argues."

"I see," Sydney said laughing.

"And I can't believe they still fall for that shit." Came a rough American voice as a smirking older man with a cane and a pronounced limp approached them.

"MacLeod called you," Methos accused the older man.

"You bet he did," The man said, leaning heavily on the cane once he reached them. "Did you actually think you were gonna slip into the country without me noticing?"

"Hullo, you must be Joe. I'm Sydney," she gave the man her best smile.

"You're the historian, right? Duncan was telling me about you a few days ago, it's nice to finally meet you." Joe said, shaking her hand.

"Oh dear," Syd replied. "I'm not sure Duncan likes me. He frowns at me a lot."

Joe laughed. "You haven't known Duncan for long, have you?"

"I'm keeping them separated for my own well being," Methos retorted.

"And from what I've seen it isn't a bad idea, either," Sydney muttered, then brightening added, "So, Joe, here I was going to show up at your place alone and grill you about Adam. Can we ditch him for a bit, do you think, and have a little chat?"

Joe smiled, especially with Methos's hard gaze on him. "Sure, why not? Come down to the bar tonight, Adam knows where it is. That's if you can ditch him of course. He can be a determined little shit when he wants to be."

"Joe, may I remind you how many times I've saved your life?" Methos asked casually.

"I don't know," Joe said sarcastically. "I lost count of the times I had to save your neck by putting mine on the line."

"Touche."

Joe turned his smile back on Sydney. "You come down anytime you want, honey."

"Thanks, Joe," Sydney said grinning. "He's not at all like paparazzi, Adam."

"Is that what he's been calling us?" Joe asked.

"No, that was something she came with on her own. And I'm starting to see what she means." Methos said.

"Well, you all do 'watch' them right?" Sydney asked the older man. "Do you take pictures and keep notes?"

"When we can," Joe said. "It's been harder since the immortals started noticing our existence, especially the more dangerous ones."

Sydney looked thoughtful. "Are you people in a lot of danger, Joe? Why do you do it, then?"

"We all knew the danger when we took the job. But knowing's a lot better when it comes down to telling you if the guy in front of you is one of the bad guys or the good guys," Joe said, jabbing his thumb in Methos direction. Then the old watcher winced and readjusted the weight on his cane. "We can keep talking in the car, my legs are killing me."

Joe started to walk out of the airport, and Methos grinned, giving Sydney a comical half bow and gesture for her to go first.

Syd obliged and walked along, looking around at the crowds with new eyes. Suddenly she felt very small and vulnerable, and insignificant.

"Sydney, you're up front with me." Joe called as he tossed his cane in the back seat before sliding behind the wheel.

"Sure, Joe. This is because Adam is the smart one, having had lots of experience with Paris drivers and Paris traffic?" she quipped.

"No," Joe said. "This way, when he starts going on with his philosophical nonsense, I can tune him out and talk to the only intelligent company in the car." He said with a grin.

"You can just feel the love in this car." Methos said sarcastically from the back seat.

"How long have you two known one another? Did Adam really save your life and vice versa? Do you have a secret hand shake, and are you sanctioned by the Catholic church?"

"You definitely picked a curious one this time, Methos." Joe said to the immortal lounging in the back seat with a laugh, using his real name now that they were in the safety of a closed off car.

Methos just grinned, watching the scenery go by. It didn't fool Joe, he knew the old man was just waiting for those times when he'd want to divert the conversation away from certain things.

Joe turned his attention back to Sydney. "And to answer your first question, I knew Methos for a few years as Adam Pierson before Duncan told me who he really was."

Methos laughed. "They thought I was a book wormy grad student with a knack for history and languages."

"Yeah, well it turned out the watcher I kept calling the kid librarian turned out making me look like a kid. He was a lot quieter then, too." The last part was directed as a jab. It was only answered by a snort.

"Did you see Methos's tattoo?" Joe asked.

"Yes, he told me what it meant, but not much beyond that. A kid librarian. I confess to not being able to imagine that," Syd added, looking around at Methos with a speculative smile.

"That about sums up to a secret handshake for us."

"Yes, that makes sense, I suppose, but it also marks you for enemies. You'd have been better off with just a secret handshake," Syd replied seriously. "I suppose you have, what, a hierarchy of some sort? To collate all the information, assign watchers, and that sort of thing? How do you insure the privacy of the information?"

"Whoa, slow down kid." Joe laughed. "The more you know, the more danger you're putting yourself in. And you gotta give me time to breath between each of those."

"Yes, I'm sorry about that. But you're the first person I've had a hope of getting any serious answers from," she glanced back at Methos. "As for knowledge putting me in danger, well, see, I've always believed knowledge is the weapon of choice to use to protect yourself. But as you've been doing this for a long time, and know the history of the organization, I'm willing to debate that issue."

The quai came into view as well as the barge when they turned the corner. Joe put the car in park and tossed a set of keys in the back seat at Methos.

"Mac said if you sink it then you're buying him a new one," Joe warned.

"The things never leaves from that spot, how am I going to sink it?" Methos asked in bewilderment.

Joe scoffed. "Knowing you, you'd find a way." He turned back Sydney. "Look Sydney, I can't tell you everything, but I'm willing to tell you what I can. So I'll see you at the bar tonight?" He asked.

"If I can ditch the immoral you will. Or is he invited too?"

Joe cast a critical eye at Methos. "Yeah, what the hell, bring him along. Not like you can get rid of him anyway."

"Oh, well, thanks for the invite Joe." Methos quipped before getting out of the car.

"Don't mention it."

Syd laughed and let Methos help her out. "Thanks so much for the ride and the info, not to mention the invitation, Joe." They watched him drive off. "You've got a very good friend there in Joe," she said to Methos.

Methos smirked. "He's a decent guy. I sometimes wonder why he still risks hanging around with us lunatics."

"Quite possibly because you're a decent guy, too," she replied.

His smile faltered, but only for a second. "Come on, let me show you the wonder of a Scotman's odd infatuation with interior decorating." He said, gesturing towards the barge.

"Oh yes, I've been looking forward to this. You've got to admit, living on a barge is romantic."

"As long as you're not prone to motion sickness." He said as he leafed through the small chain of keys, oddly enough he knew the right key on sight and let Sydney in the door while he got the bags.

"Oh, it's lovely," she breathed as she looked around at the barge. "And here I'd expected a cold hotel room when I first said yes. I suppose I'll have to be nicer to Duncan now."

"Why?" Methos asked, brow furrowed when he came back in. "Because he stared at fabric swatches and paint samples for days on end when he was bored?"

Once he'd dropped the bags she walked over and grabbed his arms and wrapped them around herself. "Yes, exactly. And, he's nice enough to let us use it. And mostly, because he's your friend, even if you two can't be together for more than 10 minutes without arguing. Or is that a guy thing, and only happens when women are around?"

Methos thought about it and grinned. "No, that's pretty much how we always are actually." His arms tightened around her, their faces close as his smile softened. "Are you happy?"

She snaked her hands up to put one on either side of his face and turn it down to look at her. "Immensely. But I think I'd be very nearly as happy even without the trip and the barge." She paused, "Although getting to cross-examine Joe isn't something I'd like to have missed."

"He's right about the danger in knowing though, Sydney." Methos said, sobering a little. "If Joe doesn't answer some of your questions you have to understand there's a very good reason for it."

She nodded. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry about all the questions but it was rather fun watching him get flustered. I'm a mean woman."

Methos chuckled. "One of your more charming traits."

"Hmmm. You should tell me about the other ones some time." She pulled his face down so she could kiss his lips. "Thank you," she whispered when the kiss finally broke.

"Don't thank me yet," He said in a low voice, resting his forehead against hers. "This is only the first day, and I have so much more to show before the sun goes down."

"Well, we'd best get started then."

---

They were still laughing and remembering their visit earlier to the Louvre when they walked into Le Blues Bar. She wearing a slinky dress that revealed almost every curve to everyone, and in heels that ought to have been registered as deadly weapons. He, not quite so dressed up but looking cool nonetheless.

It was late and the place was pleasantly full with patrons who, mostly, appreciated places like Joe's: good atmosphere without the hype, and good, cool jazz.

"You two look like you been up to something," Joe said suspiciously as they took two free seats at the bar.

Syd looked over at Methos and then back at Joe. "You're right, Adam, he is terribly suspicious."

"Hey now, I just know the sign of troublemakers when I see it." Joe said as he filled an order of drinks for one of the waitresses. "And you are two shinning examples at the moment. Care to fill me in, or do I even want to know?"

"Oh nothing too exciting. Knowledge, by the way, was the weapon of choice," Sydney replied laughing.

"Or, the extremely blurry knowledge that evaded me the moment we ran into the security guard," Methos said, scratching the back of his neck. "I forgot the left we were supposed to take instead of the right."

Joe just groaned in dismay. "Well at least I didn't get called to bail you out."

"We managed quite nicely. The authorities at the Louvre are very understanding and quite pleasant toward historians from other countries. I was impressed," Syd added, a smile playing on her lips thinking back on it. "Not to mention the chief of security was a real hunk."

"Which I'm not going to contest." Methos admitted casually.

Joe snorted. "Translation: you got out by the skin of your teeth." He said, setting a draft beer in front of Methos without having to ask.

Sydney asked for a glass of wine and sipped it grinning. "I wonder if we could try to get back down there. It was interesting. Having heard so much about the catacombs to actually see them and with someone who knows them, even if he can't quite remember his left and right."

"Amanda would know it better then me. Though I don't think she ever managed to get out with anything she ever tried to steal from there." Methos said, licking foam from his lip.

"That's just what we need, the two cat burgling klutzes near the Mona Lisa, no thanks." Joe said.

"Amanda? See, I learn more from listening to you two than I can hope to learn talking to Adam alone. Well, actually we don't manage to do that much talking when we're alone. So.. Amanda?"

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," Joe said.

Methos laughed. "Amanda, well Amanda is...I don't know, how would you describe her Joe?"

"Trouble," Joe said without missing a beat. "Almost as much as you, but at least she has the sense to be apologetic about it. Her and MacLeod were kind of on and off for a while, and whenever she comes around..."

"There's a list of people after her head right behind her." Methos finished with a wicked grin. "She doesn't seem to get the gist that stealing from other immortals is a bad idea."

"It does seem like asking for trouble, doesn't it?" Sydney agreed. "She sounds like fun."

"I'd almost be afraid to introduce you two." Joe said then another waitress came up with an order and the watcher excused himself to fill it.

Methos drained about half his glass before smiling at her. "Well, where to next? We have an entire week left and Paris at our command, what does the lady desire?"

"Hmmm. What does my fellow historian recommend? I'm completely in your hands."

"We could go into the underground catacombs, but a wrong turn there would be a little more fatal then a night with the very oddly smelling inmates of a Parisian jail, Notre Dame is a fun race if you don't stop to count the stairs," Then a smile more nostalgic then comical crossed his lips. "Actually there is a place I'd like to take you. It's a small church that used to be watched over by an extremely old immortal. Maybe we'll go see it tomorrow."

"Ah, sounds like my kind of place. I like the forgotten bits of history, the ones not written up in every guide book in every language in every country. He's not there any more, this immortal?"

"No, he's not." Methos said simply.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "All the more reason to go there then."

"All right, I'm back." Joe said, taking away the empty glasses to refill them and pour a glass of whiskey for himself. "What'd I miss?"

"We were plotting our next escapade. You in?" Sydney asked him. "I warn you, there will, no doubt, be mischief made."

"Then I am most definitely out," He said, downing half his glass with only the slightest wince. "I'm too old for that stuff."

"Ah, come on Joe. We've had some fun times creating havoc." Methos said.

"You mean when we were being shot at or the time I nearly got run over?" Joe asked.

"Well, will you at least consider driving the getaway car?" Sydney pleaded.

"Now that, I can do." Joe said with vigor.

Syd laughed happily. "So tell me," she said leaning closer in toward him so it would be harder for anyone to overhear them, "are you the only paparazzi in here?"

Methos laughed and leaned back. "Sorry Joe, did my best."

Joe gave Methos a very unconvinced look. "Yes, I am the only one here, as far as I know at least."

"So you use like cells, and you don't know all your fellows? It makes a certain sense I suppose. Unless, of course, you're the puppet master of the Paris cells."

Joe laughed. "No, far from it. I used to play a bigger part as a Watcher, we both did." He said, looking up at Methos. "But things changed, we had some bad blood running through the organization in the last twenty years, blew everything to hell for a while. I left," He said with a dismissive wave at his wrist that unlike Methos had a bad burn where the Watcher's tattoo should have been. "But I haven't really followed most of the rules since I met MacLeod. Now I play pretty small parts."

"What are the rules?" she asked.

"Watchers aren't supposed to interfere with the Game." Methos said seriously.

Joe nodded. "We observe, record and document immortals. We keep count of their kills and which ones need a more attentive Watcher put on them. But we're never supposed to make ourselves known, and we don't get in between a battle between immortals. That's the problem when you make friends with the the subject of your assignment, the lines kind of blur after a while." He had a rueful smile on his face.

Sydney thought about it, looking over at Methos. "Yes, I can imagine the lines would blur. Why do you fight each other anyway? I don't understand the Game. It seems like something some pimply-faced adolescent would dream up, not something people of any sense would participate in."

Joe shrugged. "Some people do it strictly for the Quickenings, head hunters we call them. Some do it for revenge, some to survive, and some do it because they believe there is an ultimate prize, that when the last immortal is left standing he will have all the knowledge, power and strength in the world."

"So say the immortals, 'there can be only one'." Methos said poetically, a tinge of acid to his tone.

"Do you get knowledge when you kill? Useful knowledge?" Sydney asked Methos.

"It's not only knowledge, a lifetime, or in an immortal's case, multiple lifetimes of knowledge is why most head hunters track down other immortals to kill. The older the better." Methos paused. "But, you also have their memories, and unlike a shared memory someone tells you, they don't fade away, they become part of who you are. So in the end you not only take their life, in a way you take their soul as well."

Methos was quiet for a moment after that and Joe seemed to give the immortal a little consideration by not staring.

"Oh," Sydney said, suddenly shivering a bit. "I see."

"I think that's the cue for something a little stronger." Joe said, filling two more glasses with whiskey.

"So, uhm, Joe do you sing? Or play?" Sydney asked, eager to put the discomfort behind them.

"Both actually," He said with a smile, more then happy to assist in this new direction. "I play guitar, picked it up when I was a kid and it just stuck. Why you ask, do I look like Dylan?" Joe asked with a joking grin.

"Well, I'd love to hear something sometime."

"You always struck me more as a Glenn Frey," Methos spoke up thoughtfully.

"What, you're not even gonna give me Henley?" Joe asked indignantly.

"Ah," Methos said, holding up his finger. "But Glenn stayed loyal to the Eagles and made fantastic music due to it."

Joe smirked. "I'll take that."

The men knocked their glasses together and drained the whiskey down.

"But Sydney, if you want to hear me play, I'm sure we can do a small spot one night before you two leave." Joe said. "Do you play anything, maybe you can join us on stage."

"Adam, you too?" she asked whirling around to him. "Tsk, tsk, keeping secrets. Alas, the only thing I can play is scrabble."

Methos looked slightly affronted. "After a few centuries you do end up picking up something, but I can only sing a little among other things." He flicked a glare at Joe. "And I don't remember volunteering for a concert."

"I volunteered you," Sydney retorted with a smile. "Please? I've never been a groupie before."

"Yeah Adam," Joe teased. "Give the kid what she wants. I don't think she's gonna drop it now that she knows."

"And," Sydney added, leaning into Methos's chest, batting her eyelashes at him, "you did promise to show me everything in Paris I wanted to see. So...Pretty please?"

Methos sighed dramatically. "All right, fine, I give up. I don't know why I thought I'd win anyways."

Sydney grinned happily. "Can I take pictures? Blackmail material."

"Absolutely not!"

Joe just chuckled as he watched them both bicker.

"Why not? I want to remember this trip. This will, I'm quite certain, be the most memorable happening!"

"You got that right." Joe smirked.

"I can't believe this," Methos said wild mild annoyance which only managed to make Joe laugh. "I take you half way around the world and the highlight of the trip so far is me caterwauling on stage? Sometimes I just don't understand you humans."

"Ah, well, I promise to explain it to you later. And I promise you won't be sorry. I'll be very grateful."

"That so?" Methos all but purred with interest.

"Suzie, you got some orders for me to fill?" Joe asked a bit desperately to cover up a conversation he'd rather not be a part of.

"Very grateful," she promised, moving to kiss him.

Methos met her half way and gave in interest to pay her back for the goading.

When the kiss broke she was a bit breathless. "Shame, and in public too. Poor Joe."

Methos smirked. "Like you said, public place."

"And I'm sure you both have somewhere more private to do that kind of stuff." Joe said, mumbling, "Not like I don't see that kind of stuff all over this damn city."

"Are you chucking us out?" Sydney wanted to know.

Methos laughed. "Should we go somewhere else so you can feel more comfortable, Joe?"

"When you're macking on each other like teenagers, yes." Joe said.

"Oh, well, I guess I've outstayed my welcome," Sydney said, pretending to look sad. "I'm still holding you two to your promise, remember!"

Joe laughed, not buying her look for a second. "I'll remember."

"See ya, Joe." Methos said as he escorted Sydney out.

---

Standing on a rooftop that easily overlooked the door of Le Blues Bar, Rafe watched the laughing couple, a hot rage boiling in his chest.

"I will knock you from your white horse, Death. And you shall taste the dirt in your mouth before you meet your end."

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