242 avalon 10:49 pm

the club is crawling with men and women dressed in silver and black liquid clothing. drinks of green, blue and purple align the top of the bar, turned over, upside down and sideways across the machine metal surface. alchemic concoctions of every color surround the pint size glass of beer at his fingertips.
"they would probably drink kerosene if it looked pretty " methos thinks.
two scantly dressed, hungry-eyed young women approach him. oh boy here we go. this won't be easy.
the redhead walks straight into him, without a word, cleverly positioning her crotch at his kneecap. gyrating against the stiffness of his bone she looks at him with a glare part school-girl, part vixen. her friend stands aside, coaching her as if she's in some kinda game.
"you know you want her. she's irresistable. look at her."
now after a couple thousand years you would think that methos, of all immortals, would have learned a thing or to about the wiles of womenfolk. not a chance. the mystery of she remains such. and so, our hero spends nearly twenty minutes, after a bite to the ear, trying to get the sirens to leave him. upon leaving, the two women salute him,
" faggot. "
methos winks while tipping his now fifth pint of lager in their direction. He rests his empty glass on the paper coaster next to him. Surprisingly fast another pint glass appears next to his empty vessel, he reaches for it. Before he can get it into his palm, a smaller hand grabs it, wisking it away into the crowd. Walking off to the cages, she turns to him locking glances with him, they both smile. interesting
turning to the bartender,
"yes, I'll have another, please. Make it a stout this time. "
" this lager crap will be the death of me " he mumbles under his breath.
She climbs up to the platform. Leaving a half-empty glass of beer at the bottom of the ladder. The top of the platform sits about 7 feet off the main dance floor and is about five feet in diameter. Just enough space for a slight of a woman like herself, to dance. She watches him. Oblivious to his watcher, methos takes a hearty gulp of his drink. His posture is slow and unresponsive to her glare. a few minutes pass. He watches her out of the corner of his eye. Her movement is graceful, elegant and yet wildly sensual. Unlike her caged counterparts, whose bodies move in a definite suggestive matter. Her fluidity rides the rhythm deeply embedded behind the music. The music behind the music. That comes with years of training. More years than she has obviously had on this earth. It could always come from within, she could be naturally gifted with it. Genetics is a possibility. He turns to once again locking sights with her. Her brown eyes against her deep café au lait complexion, he hadn't experienced this since new orleansÖ..

Why does she seems so familiar?
Leaving avalon, the dew of the morning already covering the grass sticks to his face. Walking home will do him some good he thought. Plus it'll give the highlander time to fall deep into sleep, so he won't hear methos let himself in. after a while he hears the tiny pitter patter of feet near him, no immortal presense, but a strange feeling nonetheless. He stops. The foot steps continue. A figure steps out of the fog towards him. She stands a mere five feet or so, dressed in a black leather trenchcoat,
" you are still easily fooled by mere appearances, I am surprised "
" excuse me? " puzzled methos inspects her,
" I am sure that I am not who you think I am."
"are you so sure? "
" let's just say I would not have reason to forget you."
She blushes and nods her head as she begins to walk further. Smiling, she continues,
" still the ever-so-charming one, aren't we? "
" you seem to think that you know a lot about me yet, I haven't the slightest idea who I am sharing company with? "
" if I told you my name, I would be lying. Just as you would be if you told you were adam pierson."
What the?
Now, watchers know lots of details about the lives of the immortals but, it is unheard of for a watcher to approach an immortal in such fashion. Still feeling sure of himself and his mortality, he approached her a little closer. Her black-brown locks piled high on her head, fall majestically from her crown. She looks at him, closes her eyes and holds out the palms of her hands. A rush of energy surges through him. An immortal, not now. Must get her to safety. He rushes her to the nearby church ahead.
" what are you doing? " she asked.
No response from him until they arrive in the cloisters of the church. He begins to speak,
" I had toÖÖ"
" you are not paying attention! Methos. "
he turns to her again. Her palms reveal scars over the face. Looking at her face alone, he is stunned,
" it cannot be. Anoukh?? No. my god. "
" etanu mea petu khalil. E matu " she spoke to him in a language he had almost forgotten. Aramaic was the mother tongue of them both. It is actually only survived by a few and writings of it exist with the vatican, as it was the language of the time of jesus christ.
"matu ? "
"yes, it is she "
they both stare at each other in complete amazement. They stop for a second to embrace in the old custom of touching foreheads. Stupidfied, methos asks,
" how did you mask your presence? I've neverÖ"
" yoga, is a wondrous discipline. "

" you live here, right."
" yes but,ÖÖ "
" but, what? You live here, so why are we sneaking in ?"
methos tip toes across the upper level of the barge, moving his hand violently at his side beckoning anoukh to the portal. She looks at him discernly as she walks through. The lights are all off. I see the highlander is out and about. Good. Anoukh surveys the surroundings quickly as they pass through the front room into the kitchen. Methos reaches into the cupboard for a pair of cups.
" care for tea? " he asks.
" yes please. You know I can never say no to your hangover remedies. Even when they do taste a little earthy, so to speak."
" who said this was a hangover remedy? It's better to go to bed a warm drunk than a cold one. "


duncan strolls in sighting his latest tenants sound asleep on the couch. My god, not only is he here, still, but he's brought someone with him. What the hell is the old guy thinking? Must be hard up. He's never like that though. Duncan continues on to his bedroom.


Morning.

The sunlight pierces the wooden slats at the picture window. Methos opens his eyes for a minute seeing only a snake of locks underneath his nose. He barely sees her sleeping face, that of a child in deep slumber, huddled against the safety of mother's busom. He quietly strokes her face with his fingertips smiling at every pass. She wakes. She looks at him, they smile, they kiss. Methos gets up to prepare breakfast.
Anoukh looks out over the waterfront to the city. This is most beautiful but methos loathes the seaÖÖ..
" ta na, I thought you had a thing with large bodies of water? Why would you live on a barge if you didn't like the ocean? "

" well, that's because he doesn't live here " duncan interrupts walking into the living room.

"oh, here we go with that again. " methos mumbles.

"ms. I think my friend has mislead you he often - "

" is that duncan macleod? Methos you're sharing an apartment with duncan macleod? "

" see, I don't think you get it. He doesn't live here. Wait a minute, do I know you?"

" you know him? You didn't tell me you knew the highlander."

" how could I ? you never told me you didn't live with him" she exclaims.

" amire al-shar rabazz you would know. "

" amire? That's you? Wow. You've changed since I last saw you. That was 68' in oakland, right? "

"you think she's changed since you last met her", mumbles methos

" yeah. I left the country with some other party members to escape the fallout between the party and the fbi. I took a couple members with me to the french/italian border and they lived with me for a couple of years in boudin until they established their own community there."

"why am I not surprised you were a black panther, my dearest? "
methos responds walking over to them both, taking her hand in his. Duncan looks on puzzled. Never had he heard a word about amire from methos, and the apparent closeness of the two makes him ever so curious about their relationship to each other.

" so amire, how is it you came to know methos? " she blushes before speaking. Methos interjects,

" allow me to introduce, thndi anoukh amire al-shar rabazz. "

" No."
"no. my god you're just a legend. so now I've got two old geezers on my hands." Duncan jokes.

" you have been out of sight of the watchers for a very long time. It was assumed that you were dead. "

"well I do have a few tricks up my sleeve." she grins
Why, where do you think methos learned all his cunning from?"

"oh so, an old dog can learn new tricks, huh "

" I heard that scot !"




Their days together move along as though they'd never spent close to 2 millenia apart. Walking through the streets of paris, remenicing of the past separated, anoukh asks methos to visit the gravesite of an old friend with her. The cemetery floor is covered with maple leaves and dead flower bouquets. The smell in the air is rich with newness. The unearthed soil, moist from the recent rain, sits next to an open grave. Holy ground. It is more than just a safe place from other immortals, it is a womby solace that brings her often to cemeteries to bask in the quiet of life. They walk up to a small crypt with a wooden door carved of glyphs and words unfamiliar to the language of this land. At the threshold of the door, the stone slab reads,

~end page one~
copyright 1998 artlyn d johnson, all rights reserved