(This takes place after "Challenges"--last posted to "the Gauntlet"--link below)
Nick shifted in his seat, uncomfortably, as both Amanda and Methos looked on him with curiosity. He wondered if it would be easier to explain anything without the presence of the older man there, but he was partially thankful that there was an outsider present—someone who existed outside of the little drama he and Amanda acted out two years ago. He was about to open his mouth in an attempt to explain when Methos stopped him.
“So, you’re Nick Wolfe?” the old man began.
“Methos, don’t start with him,” Amanda said, quickly. Methos leaned back in his chair, with a fair amount of humor playing at his lips by her intrusion. Nick caught the look, but wasn’t sure what it meant. Amanda went on. “Nick, what are you doing back? I’m happy to see you, but what is it?”
“I had reason to believe you were in danger,” Nick answered, and then gave a more careful look at the older man. The oldest man, he corrected himself. He wondered just what her association with him was, and how much trouble she had been in for it.
“And exactly what gave you that impression?” Methos asked, slowly, with the faintest trace of belligerence. Amanda stared at him, unsure of what brought on his strange behavior.
“There’s a group of rogue Immortals out there, for starters, and they’re targeting the older…”
“That much, we know—but why do you?” Methos demanded.
“Methos!” Amanda exclaimed, exasperated. She looked from one to the other, and then caught Methos’ eye. It twinkled. He was having the younger man for an early breakfast. She relaxed, realizing he wouldn’t leave any lasting marks on the younger man. Nick, on the other hand, stood.
“Why is there a…Gray Panthers’ meeting worth of older Immortals right here?” he asked in return, voice raising, just as Cassandra and Genevieve entered.
“Because we like the cozy atmosphere,” Genevieve quipped, in an even tone.
“It’s friendly,” Cassandra added.
“And it’s Holy Ground—sit down, Nick,” Amanda said, softly, but firmly. He remained standing.
“I don’t like being told what to do.”
“Are you sure?” Cassandra asked, with a touch of interest in her voice. “There are more unpleasant things than being told what to do.” She turned to Genevieve, who hid a smile. “You could have no choice.”
“I’ve gotten used to that,” Nick answered hotly, looking in Amanda’s direction.
“Not like she wasn’t warning you,” Genevieve said, in a slightly singsong voice.
“Sit down, Nick. It’s been a long night for everyone,” Cassandra then said, voice slightly resonating. He took his seat, and then stared at her.
“Great.,” he responded. “A witch, a thief, the oldest man…and…” He stared at Genevieve. She raised an eyebrow, slightly. “You?”
She nodded, without a word, and took a seat. She glanced at Methos, and shrugged, innocently, before crossing her legs. She then returned his gaze. Methos stood, and went back behind the bar, searching out another beer. He felt a need for one, or at least, he would enjoy this more with one.
“Eight thousand years old?”
“Give or take,” she smiled. Cassandra rolled her eyes, and also found a chair.
“I can’t even imagine it—tell me, what was it like, that long ago?” The younger man’s eyes never left her face, which gave away absolutely nothing, until Methos spoke.
“Oh, yes, Anath-Sin, do tell everyone.”
Genevieve gestured, spreading both hands. “What’s to tell? Eight thousand years—life was short and nasty and brutal, it rained all the time, and everywhere you went, it was uphill both ways.” She shrugged then, returning Methos’ stare. He smiled, and brought her a beer.
“I didn’t think you would.”
“I didn’t think I would either. Should I tell him?”
“I wouldn’t,” Methos answered.
“Tell me what?” Nick asked, looking at both of them.
“Nothing,” Genevieve responded, regarding him, calmly. “I’m old enough to have my secrets.” She held the cold beer up to her forehead, and sighed. Although she had every reason to believe that he was a good guy—after all, Amanda cared enough about him to save him from a certain death, she knew only too well that people could see and do a lot of things in just two years. He might even be one of the Gauntlet, by now.
“You don’t have any secrets,” he responded, making her eyes widen. “Does the name Genevieve Fowler mean anything to you?”
Trying to keep her composure, she sighed, as if bored. “I may have heard of the name. What’s she to me?”
“She disappeared, just about the time you resurfaced.”
“I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”
“She looked a lot like you.”
“And I…brutally murdered a young woman to steal her identity so I could go public again?” Genevieve offered.
“I don’t think so.”
“So, just what is it? I’d like to know what I’m being accused of so I can properly defend myself,” she snapped, leaning forward.
“You’re Genevieve.”
“And you infiltrated the Gauntlet,” Genevieve responded, not blinking. “And you’re the smartest person I’ve met since this whole stupid thing started. Wow.” She lapsed into a stoic silence, and pondered the notion of a person actually having some degree of problem-solving capacity, and using it. It was a new wrinkle.
“Anyone want a replay?” Amanda asked, raising a hand.
“I believe what just happened, is that our old lady has been busted—and so has Nick,” Methos responded. “What has yet to be explained is, what were you doing in with the Gauntlet?”
“It should be self-explanatory—I was just getting information.”
“Nick,” Amanda began, with a worried look. The look she got in return stopped her heart.
“I thought they might hurt someone I care about. It turns out, I was wrong.”
Amanda gasped and stared at him.
Posted on Oct 9, 2000, 5:45 PM from IP address 172.134.198.237