Immortal History Lessons 5

Immortal History Lessons 5

Dinner, No Movie

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It was near dusk when Adam Pierson appeared on the doorstep of Sydney Watson's apartment, dressed in slacks and a wine red dress shirt under his ever-present trench coat. Methos hadn't been this nervous in at least twelve years; before that it had been centuries. But he wasn't going to do much about it standing in the cold.

So checking to make sure his hair hadn't gone and done something incredibly inconvenient on the drive over and that his gift had not expired since he'd purchased it, Methos rang the doorbell and held his breath.

Sydney, meanwhile, had promised herself to get home early and actually have time to get ready and clean up her apartment. Alas, not to be. Her evening class had run late and she'd had two students who wanted to chat and so she arrived home only a half hour before Adam was due. She grabbed up exam books and threw them all in a pile onto one of the chairs, closed up text books and tossed them onto the same chair, picked up a couple of empty soda cans and tossed them in the trash then raced to the bathroom to shower and change.

She'd dressed, makeuped and even picked out the little jewelry she'd wear (drop filigree earrings) but her hair was being especially uncooperative and she was cursing it as her cell phone rang. She checked the caller-ID and it was an especially nice student so she answered it, just as the doorbell rang. She cursed and looked out the window to see Adam standing on the stoop.

Still speaking to the student she opened the apartment door and walked the few feet to the main door and swung it open giving Adam what she hoped was a dazzling smile. She motioned to the phone to her ear, and indicated he should follow her and she led him, barefoot, into her apartment.

Methos grinned and followed her in, taking in an eyeful of the woman as she walked away from him and sighed.

"Yes!" Sydney was saying into the phone. "Oh I'm so delighted for you! I told you, didn't I," Sydney replied laughing. "I would be delighted to come but really... Yes, all right. I will. Thank you, Mrs Nuygen. I'll do that!"

He found a discarded pair of her glasses and strolled up to her with them perched on his nose, seeming deeply captivated by one of her textbooks.

She folded up her phone and regarded him. "Oh, they look better on you than me. Anything interesting there?" she asked, peeking over his arm to see what text he had open.

"I'm looking for the author's address, or hopefully his obituary." Methos said casually.

"Wretch," she said. "I'll be ready in a minute if I can find my shoes," she said as she wandered around searching the floor. I swear I brought them out of the bedroom. God. One of these days I'm going to get organized."

Methos chuckled, lifting up a discarded blanket on the floor to look. "What do they look like?"

"Medieval weapons of torture," she called out from the bathroom where she was still fighting with her hair.

Methos swung into the bathroom by way of the doorframe. A single sharp pointed shoe dangling from his finger. "This device perhaps?"

"Should I ask to see a copy of your discharge papers?" she asked. "But yes, that's one of them. Any idea where the second might be?"

"It seems to be eluding me, saucy little thing." Methos sighed. "But I'm an excellent seducer." He said before disappearing again.

"I'll just bet you are," she muttered to herself as she finally womanhandled her hair into submission.

She walked out of the bathroom in time to see Methos on hands and knees looking under the couch. "Is it fighting back?" she asked

"Well you didn't tell me it was this stubborn." Methos mumbled against the couch as he finally reached the strap and pulled it out. "Ah, there we go." He said with relief as he presented the second shoe to her, then changed his mind and took a knee.

"May I?" He asked, holding the shoe for her slip into.

"Thank you, gallant knight," she replied lifting her foot and sliding it into the shoe. "And imagine, that! It fits!"

"You look gorgeous tonight, have I mentioned it yet?" He asked softly as he stood, touching one of the loose strands of her hair.

"No, you hadn't. Thank you. You've lost your sweater. I might not have recognized you had I seen you on the street," she said with a grin. "But I think the change looks very nice indeed."

"Merci beaucoup, belle dame." He said with fluent flair and then pulled a carefully preserved lilac from his coat. "For you."

She took it carefully from his hand. "Not exactly a common flower to bring on a date. How did you know?" she asked, taking in its heady scent.

"My intuitive nature perhaps, or the fact that it suits you. Or...it could be the fact that I asked a few questions around campus so I could make the best impression tonight."

She groaned. "Now I'll be hit with a zillion questions in the morning. And Zelda will be hunting you down for a date. Zelda is the departmental secretary. Blue hair, punk dresses?"

Methos smiled. "Ah, yes. I remember her. She seemed rather upset that I was taking you out on a date. Which by the way..." He said, checking his watch. "We should get on with if we want to make it for our reservation."

"Yes. I'll grab my shawl," she said and then looked at the lilac in her hand. "And put this in water. Only take a second," she said and hurried into the kitchen returning with it in a vase. She set it on the windowsill. "There. Ready," she said smiling at him. "Oh, Zelda tells me I'm far too conservative. She wanted to dye my hair pink," she explained as he was leading her out toward the street. "I'm not very big on pink."

"Oh, I don't know." Methos said, studying her hair. "It could be...No, you're right, pink's a bad idea."

They stopped at a fine black T-bird and Methos opened the passenger door. "After you."

She slipped into the sleek car. "Oh this is marvelous," she said as she ran her hand along the leather of the seat.

"I'll pass the compliment on to MacLeod." He said as the engine roared into life. "If he ever realizes it's missing."

"Brat," she said, pressing her lips firmly together.

Methos just grinned as he screeched the car away from the curb.

'One if by Land, Two if by Sea' didn't look anything like four star from the outside, in fact it looked like an old refurbished barn. But Methos still walked her into the place as if it were the Ritz, and when they stepped inside it was easy to see why the front was rather deceptive.

The sound of piano music was drifting from the upper levels, and from the timber of the notes it wasn't a recording. The lights had been turned down to add a romantic glow that was heightened by the wash of candles that glittered from every small table. Methos simply gave his last name and they were escorted to the main room where the walls varied between lush wallpaper and bare red brick.

"How did you find this place?" she asked, entranced by the combination of romantic and gritty.

"I used to live in New York, a long time ago. This place used to be a carriage house before it was a restaurant, I just noticed when the change happened." He said with a little shrug and a smile.

"Where do you live now?" she asked. "Oh. Wait. I promised myself I wouldn't subject you to a lot of nosy questions. I'm sorry."

Methos folded his hands on the table. "You know I was wondering about that. You've shown a great amount of restraint for someone in your field of work." There was a note of teasing in his voice as well as admiration. "And to answer your question, I live here. Until I have a reason to move on, then I always have a flat in Paris at my disposal."

"A flat in Paris and you're here in New York," she shook her head, trying to imagine it. "I've been to Paris. Once. It was rainy and cold and I didn't care," she confessed.

"What did you do that day?" He asked, watching her curiously from across the table.

She leant on her elbows and her expression turned contemplative. "I walked. Along the quais, watching the people who passed. Trying to imagine.." She blushed. "I should have gone to the Louvre or seen other sights I suppose, but I enjoy watching people."

"The Louvre's a one time wonder, but I want to know what you imagined. What did you think about when you were watching those people?"

"Oh, nothing, really. I just like to imagine what someone might be like when I look at their faces or their body language. He just came from seeing his lover, she's lonely. Silly things, I'm afraid. Especially silly now that I'm telling you them."

Methos smiled. "What's so silly about it? What do you think I was doing when I first saw you?" He asked.

"Oh, you didn't automatically think, 'what a klutz?'"

"No, that was my second thought." He teased.

"What was your first?" she asked with a somewhat worried frown. "Typical New York broad?"

"Now why would you say that?" He asked. "So far I've gotten to know a beautiful, intelligent, witty woman that I haven't ever met a match to. And my first thought was, I wonder what she's like?" He said softly and took one of her hands off the table to study with his fingers. "And I had to find out, so I picked up your glasses and used them as an excuse to touch you, I taunted your books so I could see how much your temper might burn, and I'm glad that I did."

She laughed throatily at his touch. "Well, I'm glad my temper stayed under control then." She paused then added, "Your accent intrigued me. And your face. You've seen a lot."

"Did I also mention you're very perceptive?" He asked, his thumb making small circles on her inner wrist.

"And," she said, after a moment when she'd gone still, dragging her attention away from what he was doing to her heart rate and blood pressure, "you have intriguing friends."

"I've been all over the world, I pick up a lot of 'intriguing' friends. What you saw at that table are all I've managed to keep, except for Joe of course. But he's still trying to get his paperwork in order to get here." Methos said with a private, mischievous grin.

"Joe?" she asked.

Methos let go of her hand.

"Joe Dawson, devoted friend and on the regular occasion a significant pain in the arse." Methos said warmly. "We worked together for a secret organization some time ago." He said this part dismissively, as if everyone had worked with secret organizations at least once in their life. "But now that that's over he wants to move back to America and I can't exactly stop him."

"Do you want to stop him?"

Methos chuckled. "No, I think this place needs Joe back. I don't think Paris really appreciated his particular talents. Besides, we need a good bar down here that doesn't charge you seven dollars a pint. Without Joe I'll be broke in one sitting."

"Well, I hope he manages it then," she replied, looking at the menu the waiter handed her. "What's good?"

"I'm partial to the Gnocchi, but everything is surprisingly good here." Methos said then smiled at the waiter apologetically. "No offense."

"That sounds good," Sydney said smiling up at the waiter. "I'll have the gnocchi." Once the waiter had left them she cocked her head and looked at him. "You know, I do wish you'd stop tantalizing me so."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Methos tried to say straight faced, but he started chuckling instead.

"Uh Huh. Here I am trying not to be nosy and pushy and you torture me. Entirely unfair."

Methos cocked an eyebrow. "I never said you couldn't ask me questions. Who on earth made that rule?"

"I did. I find it annoying when I get grilled, so I don't want to be annoying to you. I'd rather, frankly, you told me of your own free will."

"What would you have done if I never said anything? If I just showered you with delightful surprises and outings and never said a thing about myself, would your rule hold out then?" He asked curiously.

She toyed with her glass of wine. "Possibly. I'm rather enjoying the mystery."

"Then I'll have to aspire to that." He said, holding up his own glass. "Cheers."

"I did slip up and asked about Joe," she reminded him. "So don't push me too far."

"And I'm surprised." He admitted. "And where I live. But you still haven't asked about where I come from, if I have a job or any hobbies. You haven't even asked how old I am yet. But I haven't asked you that either."

"Good thing," she laughed. "You know, I'm not sure most of that matters. I mean, where someone is from. I'd rather know where someone is now. I mean, in the sense of who they are now. People can change, people do change. And sometimes, if we know too much, we suddenly read everything based on that, rather than on ..well, on what is going on in the here and now." She paused, and blushed. "Sorry I'm babbling. I'm not very good at dating. My ability at small talk being nearly non-existent."

Methos had to shake himself out of a trance. "No, no. I completely agree with you, not about the babbling part because I think it's attractive." He smiled. "But people do change despite their pasts." He said meaningfully and without thinking took her hand again. "They really do."

"I'm glad we agree on that issue, since I was voted Miss Way-too-Serious in high school."

Methos cocked his head sideways and studied her. "You know, I really can't see that."

She laughed. "Oh yes you can. I had my nose in a book and never went to a prom. Never went to a football or basketball game. I lived in the library."

"I take it none of the men were up to par with your standards as a teenager if they couldn't get you out of the library. I'm starting to feel very privileged now."

"And," she added leaning toward him, "you don't wear Brut."

Methos leaned forward so she could smell for herself. "That I don't. I prefer my own masculine aroma, with a little deodorant of course, there's not always much to be proud of with the male body after all."

Her eyebrows rose. "Really? I've always found much to like with regard to the male body." She frowned. "Well with some of them anyway."

He took a swallow of wine. "Oh really? And how, pray tell do I rate?"

She looked him over critically. "You sure you want to know?"

"Do I get points if I admit that you're the most beautiful woman I've seen a long time?" Methos asked.

"I think I'll have to deduct points for that white lie," she said, shaking her head at him. "But then it made me smile, so perhaps only a point or two."

"Now see, pay a lady a compliment and she thinks you're lying." Methos sighed with mock exasperation. "All right, give me the hard truth."

"Hmmm, let me see your profile." When he turned his head for her she repied. "Strong chin, that's a plus. Nice eyes. All your hair, a very big plus. As for the rest of you, well, I'll have to hold off on assessments there, since you haven't put those tights on for me yet."

"There's other ways for you to see my legs." Methos said.

"Really?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Of course. Next time we can go to the beach." He smirked.

"Yes, very true. Although I'm not sure I should let you see me in a bikini."

"Then what's the point in going?" He asked.

She laughed. "None I suppose."

Their food arrived and their silliness was interrupted until the server left them with wonderfully smelling steamy plates. "Nor will anyone see me in a bikini for some time after tonight," she commented looking at the plate. "But my penance at the gym will be worth it," she added, once she'd tasted the gnocchi.

Methos watched her. "Good?"

"Yes very. Thank you for such a delightful evening."

"No, thank you. I was afraid I might have scared you off yesterday. I'm glad to see I was wrong." He said before starting in on his own food.

A half smile played around her lips. "I suppose I'm tired of playing it safe. I have, most of my life. I've lived through others. My historical heroes, as it were. It's high time I stopped hiding in my safe little corner of the Village."

"How far away are those heroes from here?" Methos asked.

"At the moment, quite far away. And I'm well rid of them."

"How far are the places they've been?"

She laughed. "Oh, the usual places. Europe, India, Egypt. I had a terrible crush on Alexander in high school. Hard for the poor boys in school to measure up to that."

"He was more fun then most. Horrible decision maker though, couldn't exactly keep it in his pants." Methos said offhandedly.

She laughed. "I think that's a problem most conquerors seem to have. Great power is sexy. It's a magnet for all those who think it will give them some sort of boost to be loved by someone, even only for a few hours, who is a great man - or woman."

Methos opened his mouth, closed it and shook his head. Smiling as he put another piece of gnocchi in his mouth.

"You don't agree?" she asked.

"I do, it's just..." He laughed, looking at her. "You should of been born in another time, sometimes I wonder if you actually know what is was like."

"Just a silly girl who daydreamed a lot instead of playing softball or chasing boys. And one who devoured historical romances," she added, "Which is rather embarrassing for a history professor to acknowledge."

"Not really. Why do we love history? It's the scandal, the timeless romance, chivalry...the men in tights with swords at the ready." He said, illustrating the words with his hands. "That's all history is, love and life."

"Hmmm. I try to tell my students that, but intro history is all about them memorizing dates and facts. But I agree. But it isn't until you get past the basic courses where you can focus on the sweep and grandeur rather than on the bald, neutered facts."

"The downsides of teaching the subject you love." Methos said and pointed at her food with his fork. "Now make your penance worth the effort, we still have to order desert." He instructed.

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