by Carol Roi
He turned around in her arms, and kissed her lips gently, finding them a little lower than they had been before. Glancing down, he saw she was now barefoot, having taken off her boots in the bedroom. They danced together for a couple songs, sharing kisses, enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed close together. Finally she led them over to the couch, turning out most of the lights as they went.
She snuggled up next to him, her hands finding the tie holding his hair back and releasing it. Tangling her fingers in it, she tilted his head back, her lips caressing his face and neck. He moaned deep in his throat, his own hands freeing her hair from the heavy braid she usually wore down her back. He stroked her hair and shoulders, feeling her soft kisses move lower as she began unbuttoning his shirt. She straightened up suddenly, her mouth capturing his, her tongue swirling in and out quickly, giving him just a taste of what was to come. She turned her attention back to his shirt buttons, as he groaned and said, "You're driving me crazy, Dee."
"That's the idea," she replied, grinning at him, her hand slipping inside his shirt, her fingers lightly stroking his heated skin. The sensation went straight to his groin, and he jumped.
"God, Dee... " he breathed, "that's so good."
"You like, hmm," she answered, her lips and tongue joining her fingers in torturing him.
"Yesss... " Blair hissed, his brain finally realizing he would soon be naked and she would still be fully clothed if he didn't do something about it. He grasped the soft cotton of her blouse, and pulled it free from her jeans. She paused in what she was doing, letting him unbutton her shirt, helping him tug it off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor. His own shirt soon followed. The only thing between them now was her bra. Raising up on her knees, Dee straddled him, yanking her black sports bra off over her head, moaning as his hands traced lightly up her ribs, his mouth planting soft kisses across her chest.
Snagging a handful of chestnut curls, she pulled his head up before he got carried away. Her mouth descended on his again, this time letting his tongue dance with hers as she lowered her body to his, moaning softly against his lips as skin met skin. His arms moved around her, pulling her closer, his fingers lightly outlining the muscles of her back and shoulders.
The intimate contact was only increasing their need for each other, and Dee could feel his desire burning against her own arousal. With a groan, she broke their kiss. "Think we can make it to the bedroom?" she asked, getting to her feet somewhat unsteadily. Blair's answer was unintelligible, but he followed her the few steps across the floor, falling with her in a tangle of arms and legs onto the bed.
They made love slowly, touching, tasting, savoring each other, as Madonna's voice sang from the other room, something about "nothing really matters, love is all we need", words they took to heart. At the height of passion, she called his name, and he pressed her back into the pillows, their hands locked together above her head, their bodies moving in an intricate rhythm. "Lobo, look at me," she whispered, and he did, peering into eyes of blue flame, seeing the depth of her love for him. Then he was she, and she was he, and they were one, soaring high above the earth, the brilliant moon and stars a backdrop for their rapture.
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Blair awoke to the sensation of being warm, almost uncomfortably so. Opening one eye, he discovered why. His blanket was 150 pounds of unclothed, modern-day Amazon. Dee was sprawled across him, one arm over his chest, and a leg wrapped around his hips. Her chin rested on his shoulder, and he could feel her soft breath tickling his ear. He lay there quietly, not wanting to wake her, feeling her heart beating against his ribs. He concentrated on its relaxed, steady rhythm, slowly realizing its echo beat inside his own chest. That was a little weird, he thought, but kind of cool. Grinning, he curled his arm up and brushed her hair out of her face. She wiggled her nose, but showed no other sign of waking up. He glanced at the clock, noting it was almost nine am. He stretched, feeling almost decadent. He hadn't slept this late since he had started training with Dee. Of course, they probably hadn't gotten to sleep until almost four.
He felt a silly smile spreading across his face as he remembered their passion. Dee had shown him things he'd never dreamed of. Like how the inside of his left elbow was an erogenous zone. She'd kissed him there, and he'd almost hit the ceiling. He'd discovered a few places like that on her body too, the small of her back, the lobe of her ear. The memories were intense enough to arouse him all over again. Just as he was beginning to get a little uncomfortable, he felt lips gently nibbling along his jaw. Turning his head to the side, he found her incredible blue eyes gazing into his own. "Hey," he said.
She smiled. "Hey," she replied, then nothing intelligent was said for quite a long time.
When they finally got out of bed, it was almost 11:30. Blair let Dee have the shower, and he padded into the kitchen, having thrown on a pair of sweats first. Coffee was on the top of his list, then he began slicing cheese and breaking eggs into a bowl in preparation for making omelets. By the time Diandra made her appearance, clad in the short blue robe he so liked, all the ingredients needed were to be combined and poured into the skillet. He gave her a quick kiss as he passed her on the way to the shower.
Dee was just pouring the first omelet into the pan, when she felt her Immortal sense tingle, followed by a knock at the door. Turning the heat down on the stove, she went to answer it. Methos slouched in the doorway, a sly grin on his face. "Ah, the lovebirds are awake," he said, sniffing the air appreciatively. "Is that eggs I smell?"
Stepping back, Diandra let the older man enter, leaving him to close the door behind him as she returned to the kitchen. Methos took a seat at the breakfast bar, and leaned his chin on his hands, his sharp eyes watching her intently.
"What do you want, Methos?" she finally asked in an irritated voice.
"I'd like a beer," he said, "but since I know you don't have any, I'll settle for that omelet."
Sighing, she slid the eggs from the skillet onto a plate and set it down in front of him. As an afterthought, she put a mug and the coffeepot in front of him too. "Okay, now you're fed. What do you want?"
"These are really good," he said around a mouthful. He washed it down with a swallow of coffee, then said, "I'm just curious about your friend. He's not one of us, and yet I sense he's not quite mortal either."
"You can wonder all you want; I don't have any answers for you." She started another omelet.
The dark haired man quirked an eyebrow at her turned back. "My, my, my, aren't we being a little bit bitchy this morning? Your young man not live up to your expectations? You know, Mac's going to be awfully disappointed when he finds out about lover boy."
Dee whirled on him, her spatula raised. "What in the hell are you talking about?"
"Why Dee, haven't you figured it out by now? Mac's too much of a gentleman to say anything, but that Scot has it bad for you."
He was being just a little too smug for her taste, and she looked at him, hard. "I think you're being a prick this morning just to piss me off, Methos," she said, her tone dangerous.
"You know, that 'other' sight of yours takes all the fun out of teasing you. But I had you going there, didn't I? You worried that if push came to shove your little mortal would be no match for one of us?" Methos paused, waiting for Dee to leap over the breakfast bar at him. Instead, she calmly turned her omelet, a secretive smile on her face. The ancient Immortal suddenly found himself flat on his back on the floor, his stool having been yanked out from under him.
An angry anthropologist stood over him, hands clenched into fists. "This 'little mortal' can take care of himself. Dee's right, you are an ungrateful prick, Adam or Methos, or whatever the hell your name is. She lets you in here, feeds you breakfast, and tolerates your line of bullshit. If I were her, I would have killed you long ago."
"I did, actually," Dee piped up. "Twice. Things just kept getting in the way of me taking his head."
Blai
r walked around the prone Immortal and into the kitchen. Diandra handed him a plate of eggs. "So, Adam, I think you owe me for interrupting our morning," she said.
Getting to his feet, Methos righted his stool. "What do you want, Dee?"
"I want a workout. You, me, in the gym, fifteen minutes."
"Gods, Dee, you wipe the floor with me every time we spar... "
"And I'm going to do it again today," she said, heading toward the bedroom to change her clothes.
Shaking his head, Methos said, "I should have stayed at Joe's."
Blair put his plate in the sink. "You got that right, man." He followed Dee into the other room.
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Ellison exited the elevator and headed for the loft. Thank god that was over with. After dropping the transfer paperwork off at the station, he'd headed straight home. He'd been fighting a headache the whole drive back from San Francisco, and now all he wanted to do was check in with his guide and catch some Z's. Blair had to be home, his Volvo was parked in its usual place out back, but Jim had noticed that Diandra's Cherokee was gone. Just as well, she was the last person he wanted to deal with today.
Unlocking the door to the loft, he stepped over the threshold, belatedly aware of the three men inside. Dropping his overnight bag, he reached behind him for his weapon, but a blow to the back sent him to his knees. He came up charging though, knocking one of his attackers over the couch. Again he tried to draw his gun, and this time succeeded, only to have it knocked out of his hand by a solid kick. He threw a punch blindly, and felt it connect, the man falling to the floor in a daze. That left two of them, both circling him warily. Trying to draw a deep breath, Jim felt a stab of pain in his back, and knew that first blow had cracked ribs. Ignoring the ache, he went for the man closest to him.
A punch to the stomach doubled the thug over, and Jim whirled to face the attack he knew was coming from behind. What he didn't expect was three feet of gleaming metal slashing into his side. Both hands clutching at the bleeding wound, Ellison pitched forward and passed out.
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The sound of ringing steel echoed through the dojo. Dee and Methos had been at it for over half an hour. Blair watched from a bench to the side, simply in awe of his lover. He had known she was good with a sword, had watched her do solo drills numerous times, but to actually see her in action... she was pure poetry. Her katana whirled and sliced through the air, catching the Excaliber Methos had produced from somewhere every time. Blair could even tell she was only working at about 3/4 her normal speed, not wanting to get past the other Immortal's guard and actually hurt him.
She could see Methos was tiring; he didn't spend nearly enough time training, as both she and MacLeod had told him many times. The older Immortal preferred avoiding a challenge by whatever means possible, be that leaving the country, or getting someone else, most often MacLeod, to fight for him. Taking pity on him, she ended it quickly, stepping in close as she caught his sword on hers, bringing them both up locked together. Methos stepped back, and tripping over the leg she had extended behind him, fell to the floor. Dee stepped on his wrist, and touched the end of her sword to his chest. "I think you're dead, Adam," she told him. Releasing him, she gave him a hand up from the floor.
"Thank god," he said. "Are you done punishing me?"
"Yeah... not yet," Dee answered, going to the wall and taking down two quarterstaffs. "Come here, Lobo."
Rising from his seat, Blair walked out to her. She gave him one of the staffs, and tossed the other to Methos. "Let's see how you do against Blair, old man. He's getting too good for me; he knows all my moves."
Handing his sword to Dee, Methos sighed and set himself. "I'm really, really sorry I insulted you, Dee. Can I go home now?"
Laughing, Dee shook her head. "Just go 15 minutes with him, and I'll let you go."
The two men circled each other, looking for a weakness. Blair felt his stomach slowly begin to knot, as he realized he was facing a 5000 year old fighter, who even though he might appear rusty with a sword, probably had forgotten more about fighting than Dee had been able to teach Blair in the short time she'd been working with him.
Methos took the first swing, wanting to get the fight over with so he could nurse his bruised ego with a few beers at Joe's. Blair brought his staff up smoothly, blocking the blow, the force of it stinging his hands. It was a good pain though, and it helped him focus. He parried a few more blows, watching Methos closely, analyzing his style, and changing his own to match it. At the end of what Blair thought was 15 minutes, he stopped a roundhouse swing from the older man by stepping inside it and catching it on his vertical staff, the end firmly planted on the floor. Before Methos could disentangle his pole, Blair brought one of his other skills into play, landing a solid kick to the Immortal's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Methos dropped his staff and doubled over, wheezing.
When he could breathe again, he gave Dee a pitiful look. "Please, please tell me you're done beating up on me now."
"Okay," Dee started to say, when she heard a gasp from Blair. Turning around, she found him on his knees, both hands clutching his side. "Lobo!" she cried, moving to him immediately. By the time she reached him though, Blair was getting to his feet, shaking the strange sensation off. "What happened?" she asked worriedly.
Blair shook his head. "I don't know. For a couple seconds there, I felt this excruciating pain, then it went away as fast as it came. Must have been a muscle cramp or something." Not satisfied with his answer, Dee probed his side with her fingers, but even her heightened touch found nothing.
Methos was gathering up his sword and preparing to leave, when the phone in the dojo's office rang. Dee ran to answer it. "DeSalvo's Dojo."
"Dee, I thought I might find you in the gym. This is Joe. I think we've found the man you're looking for. How soon can you get to the bar?"
She thought for a moment. "Give us 45 minutes to get cleaned up, and we'll be there." Hanging up the phone, she walked back into the gym. "Joe has something for us, Lobo. Let's go get changed. You can let yourself out, Adam?" Methos nodded, and Dee and Blair got on the elevator and headed upstairs.
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True to her word, Blair and Dee entered Joe's bar 45 minutes later, having sprinted through two showers, dishwashing and sheet changing. The bearded man was waiting for them, and ushered them into his office. "Finally heard from your watcher last night, Dee, after you left. She was sitting out in the parking lot most of the night, waiting for you to leave," he said with a chuckle. "I told her she could take today off, if she would go home and run through the profiles we'd looked at yesterday." Joe started up the Watcher database, and while it loaded, he continued his explanation. "Judy's a pretty smart lady, young, but a good head on her shoulders. After she didn't recognize anyone in the files we'd pulled up, she looked in the inactive file, and hit pay dirt." An old photo of a man with long hair and scraggly beard came up on the screen.
"This," Joe said, "is the last known photo of Phillipe Seis, taken in 1969. He disappeared from our records after that, and was assumed dead. He fits what you told me yesterday, Dee. He's 275, and spent most of his young immortal life as a pirate. Quite the Caribbean terror according to his chronicle. Does he look at all familiar to either of you?"
Diandra studied the picture for a moment, then shook her head. "No, not to me. How about you, Lobo?"
Pulling out his glasses, Blair slipped them on, and moved closer to the screen. "There's something about the eyes... Joe, you have some imaging software in here right? Like we use at the police station to do composites?"
Nodding slowly, Joe said, "Yes, yes we do. We use it to update Immortals files when they change their appearance, and we don't have a current photo." He tapped a few keys, and then the program was running.
"
May I?" Blair asked, and Joe rolled his chair out of the way, letting the anthropologist at the computer. With a few quick clicks of the mouse, Blair imported the photo into the new program, and told the computer to remove the beard, and trim and darken the hair. Another click of the mouse, and the computer applied his changes to the photo. As the new photo loaded on the screen, Blair gasped.
Dee leaned toward him, her hand going to his shoulder. "What is it?"
"God, no," Blair said in a hushed whisper, "that's Evan Kendall."
"Who?" Joe and Dee chorused in unison.
Hitting print, Blair said, "Three years ago I was responsible for sending him to prison. He was a big wig in Cascade, a big donor to the university. As a member of the anthro staff, I attended a fund-raiser at his mansion. While looking for the bathroom, I accidentally opened the door to his art collection. Just my luck that the last time he was in there, he hadn't closed it all the way, and the lock didn't catch." Blair shook his head, "Just dumb luck. There were hundreds of paintings on the walls, hung floor to ceiling, climate-controlled, the whole bit. Which would have been fine, except even I, who took a single class in art history ten years ago, recognized that most of the paintings hadn't been seen since World War II and earlier." He paused to take a breath, and Dee's fingers squeezed his shoulder.
