Methos made a silent re-entry into the barge with a case of Joe's finest lager, pinched from the supply room, under his arm. Seeing Sydney bent over the table with a pen made the old man curious, so he snuck up behind her to see what she was up to.

At the moment she was frowning in concentration, trying to figure out what she could say, what she wanted to say, and what the hell she was feeling.

 

After reading a few lines, Methos felt he better say something, taking a few steps back to avoid a pen wielding woman. 

 

"I come bearing provisions." He announced aloud. 

Sydney jumped and turned around.  "I didn't hear you come in. What sort of provisions?" she asked, grinning.

 

"Beer of course." He said cheerfully. "But don't tell Joe, he'll start counting his supply and then I'm a man without a bar tab."

She shook her head at him.  "I'd love one. I'm writing to my friend back home. I should be done in a minute or two," she added.

 

Methos cocked an eyebrow and set a longneck down on the table for her. "And are there any dark, looming secrets about 'experimenting' that you're not sharing with me?" He asked on his way to put the rest of his loot in the fridge.

"Deep dark dreadful secrets having to do with womanly plumbing so hush."

 

Methos just chuckled into the fridge. "I see we still need to work on the meaning of words with you."

And, okay, I admit it, I'm a bit crazy when I'm around him. Is this the way you feel when you're in love?  How do you stand it, especially since you fall in love once a month?  Okay, I am exaggerating, but not much. I can't think straight. Emotions get in the way so easily, it's frustrating.  Okay, so I'll stop saying you're a dumb broad whenever you're in love.

So we're staying on this barge that belongs to a friend of his, and another friend owns this cool blues bar. We're avoiding the tourist traps and instead hitting some of the less infamous sites in the city.  It's lovely. No rush, sleep in - yes, I said SLEEP!

There was sudden violent coughing fit at the same time that Methos walked behind her when the immortal swallowed the beer down the wrong pipe. 

She turned and frowned at him.  "I gotta get this in the mail. I'll pay attention to you in a minute."  She went back to writing.:

I suppose I'm in love with him, Janie. In lust too, but I think this is more than just that, and it's something I've never felt before. Not even when I was giving serious thought to marrying Brad. I mean, this is a whole nother level.

And I listened and did as you suggested and I tried to talk to Dad. The sonuvabitch didn't even remember the conversation.  You'd think after all these years I'd get that I'm not a part of his life and stop feeling like I'm deprived or something. But it hurts to tell him you're seeing someone and leaving for Paris and he calls your cellphone two days later and asks how come you haven't been to see your mother. Christ. Am I supposed to never leave Manhattan?  Live my life like he does?  I won't, I just won't.

So. Sorry. Rant. I should rip up the letter.

Uhm, how's Doug? You and him still a thing or is it a new guy now?

Oh, you wanted me to tell you about Adam. Well, he's funny, and ironic, and has a worse sense of humor than I do. I'm rather amazed we aren't fighting all the time, really. And he's, well, not cute precisely but his face is expressive and he does 'doe eyes' like a pro, damn him. And he seems to have a fetish for sweaters.

But he is a puzzle too, and maybe that's what I like best. I don't like guys I can figure out in a day. I like complex and if nothing else, the guy is complex.

So, listen, don't go doing anything really dumb like calling Interpol to check to see if I've been murdered and had my heart eaten. I'm officially putting an end to the mayday protocol.

I'm fine, and happy and yeah, this is the first time I've ever done anything nuts like this, running off with a guy I hardly know, but it's right for me Janie. It is.

Love,
Syd

P.S. He doesn't mind me being quippy. Well, at least he doesn't say he does.  And I don't have to pretend to be a dumb blonde. How cool is that.

She put her pen down and took a good swig of beer. "Envelopes?" she asked. "Stamps. I really gotta get this in the mail. It's pretty important."

 

If Methos was a dog, you would of seen his ears perk in interest, he covered the expression by checking his watch. "Well, since we have little less then an hour, you better get ready. I've riffled through the highlanders desk before, I'll make sure it gets out."

"Thanks," she said with a smile. She folded the letter up and left it where it was, her address book open so she could fill out the envelope.

She got up and walked over to lean down and kiss him. After it finally ended, she asked, "Jeans or slinky?"

 

He cocked his head to the side. "Mmm, slinky might just give some poor bastard a heart attack, but I revive easily enough." He said, grinning. 

"And you, I suppose, will wear jeans and a sweater. High fashion you," she laughed and went off to figure out slinky.

 

Methos waited till she was out of sight before he grabbed the stamps, scribbled 'Janie's' address down on the envelope and left the barge with prize in hand. He had the decency to wait until he reached the post box to quickly unfold the letter and commit it all to memory. It took him a moment to fathom that for once, someone actually knew more about him instead of vice versa. 

 

A snatch of memory surfaced about the day he discovered Sydney's parents. 

 

'You know she smiled today,' the receptionist had said, saying it as if it were a rare thing. It had confused Methos then, but he wished for Sydney's sake that it didn't make perfect sense now. He'd make sure she never had to face that hell alone again. 

 

The rest of the letter made him take slight offense for his fashion sense, the end made him feel down right guilty for even reading it. He quickly stuffed it in the envelope and watched as the thin scrap of paper disappeared in the mail box, leaving paper evidence that this wasn't a lie. 

 

He was back in the barge the moment Sydney came out of the bedroom, tugging off his bulky sweater to reveal the black t-shirt he'd been smuggling underneath it. 

"Oh, baby, look at you," she said giggling.  "We might not make it out of the barge," she said, walking over to run a hand over the lean muscles of his chest the tee-shirt revealed.

"Is this skirt short enough do you think?" she asked.  "Paris street fashion seems a bit more daring than Manhattan's."

 

Methos had a rather pained look on his face when he eyed the skirt length, and a groan escaped his lips. "You're just trying to kill me now, aren't you?" He asked.

"No, I'm making sure you remember who you're with," she teased.

 

Methos blinked and raised his eyes up from her legs. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that? I didn't catch a word of it."

She shook her head at him. "Never mind. Oh, my letter. Did you find an envelope and stamps. I don't want poor Janie panicking, thinking anything bad has happened to me. She worries a lot. I indulge her."

 

Methos chuckled, shrugging on his coat. "No worries. Janie has been updated with all the latest gossip so we'll be able to dodge Interpol for another three weeks at least."

She froze. "What?"

 

Methos mind kicked into overdrive. "We left so suddenly from the states and then nearly scare your Parisian friend out of her wits. Your friend Janie must of thought you fell off the face of the earth, or worse, if she knows Yvonne."

She frowned. "What makes you think Janie might know Yvonne?"

Methos shrugged helplessly, he wasn't clever enough to be that detailed in his logic. "Cross continent pen pal networking for historians?" He asked.

"I see... Yvonne says thank you, by the way.  She wants a date with Joe."

 

The smirk returned. "You and your friends. Are you all attracted to older, mysterious men?"

"Obviously not me. I thought you were a young smart-ass when we met at the bar," she retorted. "I was only wrong about half that assessment."

 

Methos clutched his heart dramatically. "That hurts, really."

"I bet it does," she replied with a raised eyebrow. "So, do I get my promised concert tonight?"

 

"Why'd you think I stole the beer?" Methos asked, leaning in to kiss her. "It's my payback."

"Oh, I think I can promise you a better payback than just beer," she replied after the kiss ended.

---

 

Joe tapped his foot, picking up the beat on his guitar a moment later. He grinned as Methos figured out what he was playing and nearly walked off stage, but a look from Sydney made the immortal turn around and pick up his mic again. 

 

The crowd, familiar with the music found at the bar began to cheer once the beat picked up and Joe leaned into his own microphone. 

 

"Been three days, maybe a week. Rain falling down in big black sheets. It's been a while since I've seen your face, everything seems so out of place." Joe drawled into the microphone, his gravely voice running over the crowd like good whiskey, painting the perfect picture of a blues man with his eyes shut tight as he leaned back with his guitar perched on one knee. "Something borrowed, something blue. Is that what my heart means to you?"

 

Methos picked up on the chorus with him, his softer voice complimenting the harshness of Joe's. 

 

"Can't be friends, there's no other. Won't be satisfied, till we're lovers..."

Sydney, sitting at a table to the side, watched them, listened to the harmony, easily picked up by men who knew one another, understood one another. As she listened to them, the lyrics began to sink in. She met Methos's eyes as he looked her way.

 

He smiled. "And I'm still stuck on you, don't need a reason to bring you back in my arms again."

 

Joe kicked in a few more solo chords and Methos easily slid into the second verse, moving with easy grace to Sydney's side of the stage. 

 

"You've got a back door personality, around the back is where the lions sleep. Knock on the front door, you're mild and you're meek. Run around the back, you just won't let me be." He sang with a wink.

She blushed and shook her head at him, but her eyes didn't leave him.

"Can't be friends, there's no other. Won't be satisfied, till we're lovers..." Joe got an appreciative round of whistles as he hiked his voice up, making Methos share a smirk with his accomplice. 

 

"And I'm still stuck on you, can't find the strength to put in my past. Still stuck on you, don't need a reason to bring you back in my arms again..." 

 

Joe nodded in Sydney's direction and Methos raised an eyebrow before hopping off stage and walking towards her. The mic held up to his lips. 

 

"I can't go on, pretending it's right. When I know...it's wrong..." Methos sang, closing his eyes, head back as he managed note. 

 

The audience watched as he walked toward her, Sydney suddenly feeling self-conscious with everyone watching them. The blush returned, and the look in her eye promised trouble.

 

Methos gave her that smile that said he was about to give as good as he got, sliding down onto his knees in front of her as Joe brought the song to an abridged end. 

 

"And I'm still stuck on you..."

She laughed an embarrassed laugh as the audience broke into cheers. "Brat," she said, but her smile was all for him.
 

 

"And enjoying it at the moment." Methos said smugly as he stood. "I'm tempted to see if that pretty little blush would last an encore."

"Don't press your luck, buster," she replied.

 

Methos chuckled. "I also remember there being payment that was 'better then beer'?" He asked.

"Hmmm. I do remember promising that. Well, at least attempting it," she amended. "It's a tall order though."

"All right, now you have my undivided attention." He said, pulling a chair around to sit on backwards.

"I love you," she replied.

 

Methos pressed his knuckles against his mouth, but even with that Sydney could still see the wide smile he was trying to hide behind it. His eyes flashed before he caught her round the back of the neck and pulled her into a hard kiss.

She returned the kiss fully, despite the laughter and cat calls around them.  When the kiss broke she said, laughing, "Okay, okay, I give up."

 

"You're not allowed to give up now," He teased, biting her lip before he relented and backed off to look at her eyes. "I didn't fall in love with someone who gave up that easily."

"Well," she retorted, "you don't play fair. I can hardly rip your clothes off right here."

Methos leaned on the back of his chair and waggled his eyebrows. "Really, that sounds like a challenge to me."

 

"Not if you want to keep that bar tab, Pierson." Joe warned as he approached them.