This story contains references to a sexual relationship between consenting adult men. If you are under age or don't care for this, LEAVE NOW. As usual, characters from Highlander: the Series belong to Davis-Panzer et alia; I only play with them from time to time without any compensation. No harm; no foul; no profit. Anyone or anything new, however, is mine (left-overs again). Not beta-read. You have been warned. Any errors are mine alone.

Paris: May 1997.

T he buzz in his head began only seconds before the pounding on the door. Methos leapt from his bed, grabbing his sword, and nearly flew across the room. The pounding on the door continued.

“Methos, it’s Amanda.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his sword, then walked to the door.

“Why don’t you knock louder? I don’t thing they heard you in Philadelphia.” His voice dripped sarcasm. Amanda breezed past him into the apartment.

“It’s an emergency,” she tossed off as explanation.

“It’s a good way to get your head cut off.”

“What an old grouch,” she observed. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Yeah, you did.” A third voice came from the dark corner of the apartment that held the oldest Immortal’s bed. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself, Amanda.”

The cropped strawberry blond hair caught the merest hint of light as Methos’s bed-mate stood up and joined the other two in the main area of the studio apartment. Clad like his lover, in pale blue boxer shorts, Richie Ryan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and greeted Amanda with a kiss on the cheek.

“Especially from Mac,” he added.

“It’s the middle of the night, Amanda. We weren’t expecting company.” Methos grabbed a shirt off a chair and shrugged into it.

“Coffee?”

This page last updated
22 August 2002

© 2000 Emma Keigh