The Elvis Minutes #05: Finale II
I consider myself a fair man. I don't expect much of anyone. Hell, I don't expect anything at all from the majority of the populace. And the only pledge between MacLeod and me is that one day we may or may not go beyond the kiss that happened right here on this barge. So, maybe the betrayal I'm feeling is irrational and totally inappropriate, but....
Damn it, there's only so much a man can take. Here I am, doing my best to straighten out a bad situation, and what is he doing? Tango-ing on the friggin' Eiffel Tower. The tart! And I don't have anything nice to say about Amanda either. Five minutes afterwards, my phone is ringing and I have to hear it over and over again. Hey, Adam, didja hear? Wasn't that romantic? Think they'll get married now? Aren't they gorgeous together? What a perfect couple.
Mockingly, my cell phone picks this moment to ring. In a fit of anger, I fling it across the room. It smashes into MacLeod's refrigerator and parts land everywhere. I don't care. I have replacements.
I pace the salon to get my emotions back under control. Although I'm alone, I still don't like losing my composure. That only leads to trouble, and I have enough of that already. In fact, my day hasn't been anything but trouble. First, Joe and I drive out to meet Jacques Vemas, head of the European Watchers. He wasn't exactly happy about the whole CD incident.
"That database you and Salzer made wasn't sanctioned!"
Well, duh. "It was something new," I said in my best pitiful Adam voice. "It would have been useful." I hung my head and told myself that ripping Vemas' head off his body wouldn't win me any useful points. Make me feel better, yeah--but I live for more than the moment.
"Why? Because some pissant grad student thinks so and screws up a Watcher system that has worked for thousands of years! Security is the reason we stay separate, so that one idiot won't compromise us all."
Even though he knew my true identity, Joe couldn't resist Pierson's downcast eyes. The grad student is one of my better identities to date. "You cannot blame this whole thing on Adam," he told Vemas.
Vemas took this opportunity to turn on Joe. "No. I blame you. Europe's my territory. If you didn't have the stomach to kill her you should have told me."
"I tried to shoot her," Joe said.
"Evidently not hard enough."
Uh oh. A pissing contest. Not good. "I don't think this is helping anything--" I began.
Of course I was ignored.
"You weren't' there, pal," Joe said to Vemas.
Vemas just smirked at him. "No, if I was, she'd be dead. Next time I'll know to send a man."
"You son of a bitch!" Joe yelled and punched Vemas. Vemas punched him back, and Joe toppled over backward.
I'm a reasonable man. Vemas snidely intimated that Joe wasn't a man. Joe hit him. He hit Joe--an action which in itself told me that Vemas had lied; he really did consider Joe a man. The crux of the matter was that there was absolutely nothing dishonorable happening--note to self: stop channeling Duncan MacLeod--which meant non-interference was completely acceptable. But I'd had enough of this squabbling. "Everyone feel better now?" I asked, going to help Joe to his feet. "Why don't you try something useful?"
Vemas left, and I got Joe to his feet. I knew he wasn't hurt, not even his pride. Vemas had treated him as a two-legged equal. Hell of a sight better than being treated as a cripple.
"He's got quite a temper on him," I said.
"Yeah, and a wicked right cross, too."
Nah, Joe wasn't hurt at all.
Then I made one of my bright decisions--you know, the kind that you always look back on and say, "Why the hell did I do that?" I told Joe I was going to see the editor of the Tribune. Joe knew the decision was nuts.
"You can't stop this now," he warned.
"No, spin control. You know, I can answer a few questions, maybe reduce the hysteria."
It'd sounded so good at the time. That should have been a warning. Was I going to have to reach double-digit millennia before I stopped smacking my head into brick walls?
"Straight into the lion's den, huh?" Joe asked skeptically. "And what makes you think you're going to come out alive?"
I opened the car door for him. "I've got a lot to offer. Five thousand years of history, Joe. I was there."
"History's been written. And people have been known to kill the messenger that waltzes in with a new version of the truth."
I just smiled at my mortal friend. "Why would I tell the truth?"
A brilliant plan, yes? Who knows, it might have worked. Except I didn't get a chance to execute it. While MacLeod was out dancing in the clouds with Amanda, I was discovering the bodies of Christine and Clancy, the Tribune's editor. He gets the girl, and I get the bodies. Something's terribly unfair in all of this.
Presence. The dancing romantic pair are home. I step outside to greet them. MacLeod whips off a pair of sunglasses as he searches for danger. Damn. The man looks good.
"Thought you'd be packed and on a plane to somewhere," I say nonchalantly. Somewhere where nudity is allowed. No. Maybe not. I don't think I'm in the mood to share.
"See?" Flirty, feminine Amanda vamps up the ramp. "I tried that already. Didn't work."
I ignore her, as does Mac. "What's up?" he asks me.
What a loaded question. Too bad we don't have time to explore it in a more lengthy nature. "Clancy, the editor of the Tribune, is dead. So's Christine Salzer."
He steps forward almost threateningly. "How?"
Bastard. "I didn't do it! No, someone got there ahead of me." And even if I had, you think I'd tell you, Mr. Mortals-Are-Sacred?
"Gone. The computer was wiped clean." Well, at least it was after I got through with it.
"You don't think it was Joe?" Amanda asks.
Wouldn't tell that, either. "No," I reply. "He had his chance. It wasn't him."
"Then who was it?"
Ask the obvious, why don't you, Ms. Devereaux? "My guess is one of the Watchers, a local named Vemas." I hold back a smile. Let's see Vemas knock Duncan MacLeod on his ass. I don't think so.
"Has anybody spoken to him?"
"Not yet, but it wouldn't surprise me if he denied it."
"Well, a double murder isn't something most people would admit to," Amanda says. She steps off the ramp and being the gentleman that I am, I offer her a helping hand. She's a beautiful woman, and I always keep my options open and available. "I'm glad it's over," she adds.
"Maybe it's not. There's still someone out there--Kalas."
Duncan--my own personal voice of doom.
"How would he know about this? I mean, I know he's dangerous, but aren't you being a little paranoid?" Amanda asks.
I want to smack her. There's no such thing as a little paranoid. Paranoia should always be big and looming. At least, mine is.
"Maybe," Duncan replies. Then he puts his arm around my shoulders. "Tell me more about this Vemas," he says, guiding me off the barge.
"Methos and I are going for a walk," Duncan tells his lady.
"Don't believe him, Amanda. He wants to get me alone so he can have his wicked way with me and force me to tell him everything I know," I sass, and Duncan's arm tightens.
Amanda laughs and turns away, totally unconcerned. She doesn't believe me. She doesn't believe it's possible that Duncan would have anything to do with me while she was there to entertain him. And why would he? After all, we'd sort of unofficially agreed that yes, we were attracted to each other and that, yes, we would "scratch" this itch of ours eventually. Why would Amanda worry her pretty little head over something as trivial as that? No, she has nothing to fear from me--from none of Duncan's fuck buddies. And that was all I was going to be.
My enthusiasm for chess takes a sudden dive.
"Methos, you okay? I know Christine was a friend of yours."
MacLeod's arm hasn't left my shoulders as we walk along the Seine, and when I turn, his sympathetic brown eyes are right there in my face. And that's when I know. That's when the realization hits me. I can't be fuck buddies with Duncan MacLeod. He's one of the most powerful Immortals that has ever existed. And I'm the oldest Immortal, or so the legend goes. Our decisions have literally shaped the Immortal world. Duncan has made Watchers common knowledge to his clan. He's faced and defeated the most evil of our kind. I've done my own bits throughout the ages--actually more than my share--to set the stage of the Gathering as well. The attraction we feel, the need he engenders in me, will possibly have far-reaching, long-lasting, world-altering implications. Being Duncan MacLeod's fuck buddy is not worth it.
But maybe being something more is.
Slowly but surely I'm gonna wear you down.
Slowly but surely I'm gonna bring you round.
To my way of thinking, my way of kissing, my way of lovin'.
Slowly but surely, I'm gonna make you mine.
Duncan plies me with questions as we walk, taking advantage of my self-distraction. I don't care; what I'm contemplating is more important than the disk, and will complicate the Game much, much more. And it's going to take some time and planning on my part.
But I'm Methos. Patience's my name, and strategy's my game.
I ain't gonna rush ya', I'll let you meditate.
Though I wanna crush ya', my arms will have to wait.
I'll just take it easy, so nice and easy, real cool really.
Slowly but surely, I'm gonna make you mine.
"If Vemas is responsible for this, I'll make sure he pays," Duncan says, squeezing my shoulders protectively.
"I'm sure you will." Wonder how Vemas is going to like the view from the ground when MacLeod knocks his ass to the ground? Too bad I can't be there, but I have plans to make. "Here." I hand MacLeod a business card.
"My cell phone number. Call me after you talk to Vemas."
He tries to hand the card back. "I already have your number."
I shake my head. "That one had--an accident. And oh, MacLeod, if you and Amanda decide to tango in the kitchen you should be careful. It needs sweeping."
I shrug. He'll figure it out. I reluctantly pull away from him. "Well, if you're not going to have your wicked way with me, I need to get back to Headquarters. Maybe someone has a lead on Kalas."
"Fine. But remember, he's mine."
"Trust me, Mac. I don't want him." With a jaunty wave, I walk toward the public parking lot a block away. The quay had been impossibly crowded today.
No, MacLeod, I say silently as I skirt the tourists taking pictures of the Seine. I don't want Kalas. I want you. And I don't want you for just a satisfying scratching session. And I don't want you for just a lengthy, challenging, demanding, and oh-so-sweaty game of mate and checkmate. I want all of you. Body and soul.
Dance with Amanda. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Sate your lust with the adorably agile wench. Because I know something you don't know, my stalwart Highlander....
I know that slowly but surely...you're going to love me.
Slowly but surely, the table's gonna turn.
Slowly but surely, your lips are gonna burn .
For what you've been missin' is my kind of kissin', my kind of lovin'
Slowly but surely, I'm gonna make you mine.
Slowly but Surely ~ Words & music by Wayne - Weisman
Continues in Elvis Minutes #06: Am I Ready? (Duncan)