adam

Methos was enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet in his office on campus. Finals had started, but his class was only scheduled to write the day after tomorrow. He'd had time to catch up with all the little annoying chores that a lecturer has to go through each term. Assignments had been graded, evaluations had been completed and his question paper was set up and already photocopied. So he really had nothing to do at work, for a change.

On a sudden impulse, he decided to call it a day and go visit Mary, whom he'd not seen for a few days, what with work being so busy.

He found her rearranging a display case at her antiques gallery. He had to smile at her appearance. Never one for unnecessary frills, Mary apparently felt that Tuesday afternoons in the middle of the month would be quiet afternoons. She was dressed in what was arguably the most tattered jeans Methos had ever seen. A worn T-shirt proudly proclaiming "Antiques dealers never die, they just appreciate with age" was smudged with dust and had a triangle tear on one sleeve. Sneakers that were obviously old friends completed the picture.

She was doing a complicated balancing trick with a suit of armor, but it looked to Methos as if the suit was winning the battle.

"Need some help?" he asked diffidently.

Startled, she swung around to face him. The suit of armor, sensing a gap, made for freedom but Methos jumped into the fray and prevented the clanging monster's escape.

"Adam!" she laughed, helping to stabilize a wildly swinging sleeve. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I sneaked in," he explained. "I wanted to catch you in the act."

"What act?"

"Oh, dancing with someone other than me, I suppose," he grinned.

"It's not what it looks like," she was quick to assert. "Jeff, here, and I, we're old friends."

"His name is Jeff?" Methos couldn't help laughing.

"We practically grew up together, didn't we, Jeff?" she appealed to the suit. "So please don't hurt him, Adam," she begged, her eyes dancing with laughter.

"For you, my lady, I will forego his punishment, but only if you'll have dinner with me tonight," Methos said.

"I will have to think about that," she teased. "A number of questions spring to mind."

"Such as?"

"Well, will this be Joe's famous steak and chips, or will it be the fancy dinner you haven't promised me yet?"

"I haven't?" he asked, shocked.

"I figured you must only feel happy close to a beer tap," she smiled.

"You may be right," he mused. "But I can fight back this addiction to Joe's any time you want. So, a formal invitation, then. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a fancy dinner at the restaurant of your choice?"

"I'd be delighted," she replied. "You'd better wear a tux."

"I don't think I have one," he worried. "Are you going to bankrupt me?"

"Not completely," she promised. "Pick me up at seven?"

"Your chariot will await you," he replied. "Meanwhile, if this knave gives you any trouble, I will most happily dispatch him for you."

"No thanks, sir knight," she laughed. "I can handle Jeff. See you at seven."

"Bye…" Methos left her to it, wondering where he could rent a tux on short notice.

* * *

At seven he knocked on her door, resplendent in a rented tux. She opened the door, and he gaped a little, as she'd also dressed for the occasion. A shimmering vision of black and opal, the dress showed off her figure to perfection.

"You look stunning," he told her truthfully.

"So do you," she smiled, running an appreciative eye over him. "Come on in, then."

"Aren't we going out?"

"I cooked," she replied over her shoulder. "You'd better come in before I change my mind about feeding you."

"But," he started. "I thought…"

"Silly man," she said. "I hate stuffy restaurants."

"Then why…"

"I just wanted to see what you look like in a tux," she said matter-of-factly.

Methos sputtered for a moment at this display of female idiosyncrasy, and resigned himself to fate. "Do I meet with your approval?"

"Oh, certainly," she smiled. "Want some wine?"

After eating Mary's great-grandmother's secret recipe for lamb kebab, they ended up in Mary's sitting room with small glasses of Cape Velvet liqueur. Methos stretched himself out on the floor with his head propped up against the couch. Mary sat with more dignity on a stuffed chair facing him.

Methos sighed contentedly. "This reminds me of the last time I lived in Japan."

"They eat Lamb Kebab in Japan?" she asked in mock astonishment.

"They eat anything in Japan," Methos grinned. "No, I meant stretching out on the floor after dinner… of course, I had a very friendly lady friend who used to give me a massage to soothe away the day." He gave Mary a hopeful look.

"I hate to disappoint you," she laughed. "But my qualifications does not include massage lady."

"Really?" he asked. "I'd have thought somebody so fascinated by antiques wouldn't want to keep her hands off an ancient artifact like myself." The moment he said it he knew it was the wrong thing to say, because she suddenly withdrew to the point that they were almost strangers again.

"That's not as funny as you think," she said quietly.

"I know," he said. "I am sorry, Mary, that came out all wrong."

"You know, I never touch anybody," she said with sudden bitterness. "I get so damn lonely, that I sometimes curse myself for being such a coward. I can't even live like a normal human being." She laughed. "And then I touched you, and it was terrible, but I endured it and learned from it, and at the end of it you're the one man I'm not afraid to touch."

The pain in her voice almost left him speechless. "Oh Mary, is that so bad?"

"Yes, because I know you now," she said softly. "You are who you are and I know how you keep yourself from people. How you hate outliving those you love." She suppressed a sob. "And I didn't mean for this to happen, I really didn't. Because I can't expect you to love me back, and I won't ask you to. But it's making it really hard for me, you know?" She pushed back her hair out of her face. "So maybe you'd better go now."

Somewhere in her impassioned speech he'd realized what she meant and he was smiling when she finished. "Mary, my love," he said. "You know me, but I don't think you really understand me. Why did you think I came here?" he asked gently as she lifted tear-filled eyes to face him.

"For the food?" she attempted with a small smile.

"For your company, dear girl." Methos told her. "I can get food anywhere but you, you I can only have right here." He moved closer and knelt in front of her. "I already love you, and you know better than me what that means." He smiled wistfully. "There's no point in denying it, you may be stuck with me."

She watched incredulously as he reached out and took her hand. Then a rush of emotions overwhelmed her as she sensed his concern, sincerity, and above all, his love for her.

This wasn't the giddy hero-worship love she felt for him. This was a love that was steady and enduring, simply because it was right. She suddenly realized that no matter what the outcome was tonight, Methos would keep that love for her through the ages, a safely guarded treasure in his soul. Not an exclusive love, Methos had a heart big enough to still love the 69 he'd married, and uncounted numbers of family and friends he'd loved and lost. And though he'd mourned them all, they were there in the heart he'd shared with them.

The thought that she was already in his heart almost made her cry again, but she forgot all about that the moment he pulled her closer and kissed her.

* * *