Joseph Dawson sighed, opening up the paper. He picked up his coffee, wincing as the hot liquid touched his tongue. He muttered under his breath about the state of the world, scanning the headlines.

The door to the bar swung open. Joe didn't even look up. "We're not open for a few hours yet."

"Not even for your best friend?" Methos asked. The old immortal strode in. "Come on, Barkeep....."

"Coffee. You can have coffee. It's ten in the morning." Joe looked up, gesturing to the pot brewing behind the bar. "Oh, you brought a friend."

"She just can't go anywhere without me," Methos commented, getting himself and Rose coffee. "Completely dependent on me."

Rolling her eyes, Rose Marlowe held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Dawson. Methos has told me a lot about you."

"All good, I hope."

She sat down. "Hope all you want, it's not happening."

"Thanks *buddy*," Joe hissed at Methos.

Rose glanced at the headlines on Joe's paper. She gave a snort. "The Sanders Portrait is being examined at Oxford? Good thing I'm not working on it. There would be an unfortunate chemical accident."

Joe was confused. "I thought you did work as a conservationist currently, Rosalyn. Isn't it against your code to want portraits burned?"

"For the great bore of Stratford, I would make an exception"

"Not a fan of the bard?" Joe asked. "From your profile, I thought Shakespeare would be one of your friends. Big time poet and all."

"THAT plagiarizing hack? Yeah right!"

Methos chuckled, sitting beside Rose. "Woman scorned, not a good situation, Dawson." He turned to Rose. "May I remind you that you got drunk and gave him the idea?"

"The least he could have done was gotten it right!" Rose exclaimed. "I mean really! 'I am your spaniel'?!?!"

"I'm needing a backstory," Joe said.

"Way back when," Methos started with a sigh, "Mr. Shakespeare wrote a play called 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'."

Rose snorted. "Wrote? More like butchered!"

"Anyway, Rose claims to have had the original idea. Back in those days, Rose was QUITE fond of sitting in bars, whoring around with any man who could write a sonnet. She usually got drunk and told them her own ideas."

Rose gaped at Methos. "I have NEVER 'whored around'. I inspired starving writers. I was a muse!"

Methos raised an eyebrow. "So that's what you're calling it these days?"

"You're just bitter about the Rostand matter. Haven't I apologized enough for that?"

"You got me immortalized!"

"Is that supposed to be a pun?" Rose asked sarcastically.

Joe hushed the two bickering immortals. "Excuse me.... What's the Rostand matter?"

"Edmond Rostand." Rose explained. "Author of Cyrano de Bergerac."

"You gave him the story?"

"She gave him MY story." Methos muttered. "I lived it! Well, sort of....."

*****

He is immortal.
Born 5,000 years ago, the details of his birth have been lost to the ages.
He will only fall with the strike of a sword and the loss of a head.
He has been a healer....
A scholar....
A killer....
He is Methos.

The Methos Chronicles

Episode 4-- Words
By MC

*****

**The year was 1583. I had been living with a minor nobility in Durham. They were of little importance, connected to to the Percys. But they paid well. I was a scribe.....**

**Which was the last thing they needed, as they were the stupidest family in England.**

**Let me tell my story, Rosalyn.**

Methos had existed at the manour for a year now. He could not honestly say he lived there. It was simply a rest stop in the endless journey that was his life.

Lord William was a good enough man. He had recognized Methos' intelligence and offered him temporary accommodations as a scribe. It was the smartest thing he had ever done. The old immortal was a scribe. It was a job that fit him well. He was left alone in his quarters, rarely visited by anyone. Only two people knew he was here and they were not big on visiting.

There was only one problem....

"Oh Andreewwwwwwwwwww....." The Lord's daughter, Elizabeth, drew out his alias into what was supposed to be an alluring hiss.

Methos felt a stabbing pain in his temples. "My lady, how may I assist you?"

"I require your assistance on a sonnet I am composing."

Lady Elizabeth had expressed her interest in Methos the day of his arrival. She was fond of saying she appreciated men with minds.

**As she didn't have one of her own.**

**ROSALYN!**

**You've said it yourself, Old Man.**

**Yes, I have, but I'd like to continue my story.**

"What may I help you with?" Methos asked, giving the lady a tight, forced smile.

"I need a word which rhymes with pale." She clutched her parchment to her bosom, sighing deeply. "How can I compose a sonnet expressing my love if I can find nothing that rhymes with pale!"

"If you would read me the sonnet and I could understand the context it must be in, I'm sure I can assist you." Methos inwardly reminded himself of the number of pounds he was paid a week, so not to be tempted to toss Lady Elizabeth out on her ass.

Elizabeth cheeks flushed pink. "Oh now, Andrew.... I couldn't!"

"Fine." Methos turned back to his work. "Sorry I couldn't help."

"Well, if you insist...." Elizabeth twittered, clearing her throat.

"Beautiful eyes the colour of gold,
Skin very, very pale
Compared to me, you're very old."

Methos rolled his 'colour of gold' eyes. This was the fifth sonnet in as many weeks Lady Elizabeth had written praising his virtues.

"How about 'to love me, you'll need to be drunk on ale," He muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" Elizabeth asked.

"I said," Methos searched through his mental dictionary. "Male. Male rhymes perfectly with pale."

"Of COURSE!" Elizabeth shrieked. "'You're a perfect male'! It's brilliant!"

"I'm glad I could assist. Now, if you please, I'm quite busy right now."

"But I must thank you for your help."

"It was my pleasure, my Lady," he forced the words out, "I love to help budding poets." And you leaving will be thanks enough, he added mentally.

*****

"So you're working for a Lord and his daughter has a crush on you. So?" Joe yawned. "Are you just trying to show off? Prove how desirable you are? I think it's enough just bringing the charming Ms. Marlowe in here."

"Do you know nothing about story telling, Dawson? I'm trying to set the mood! Illustrate how loathesome I found Elizabeth."

"Okay, you couldn't stand her."

"It was more than that. She was absolutely repellant! Pretentious, spoiled, dumb as a post....." He sighed, remembering the noble. "She did have a nice body, though."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Is that really a necessary detail, Methos?"

"Actually, it is. She was gorgeous. Dark brown hair, green eyes.... Killer body. Of course, I've never been one to go for just the aesthetics. Unfortunately, there was someone who did....."

*****

With a sweep of his arm, Hugh Fitzcairn bowed deeply. "Lord William, I am honoured you have agreed to meet with me."

"Think nothing of it, my boy," Lord William said, waving his hand so Fitzcairn would rise. "I understand to wish to court my daughter Elizabeth."

"Yes. I noticed her radiance at the wedding of my second cousin. My Lord, she is the most stunning creature I have ever met. It would be an honour to be wed to such a goddess." He sighed. "I don't have much to offer, much of my fortune was lost when my family died. All I can really offer is my name and my sword. I will protect the lady with my life's blood."

"You are friends with Robert Dudley, are you not, Fitzcairn?" Lord William eyed the blond haired gentleman.

"Oh yes, quite good friends. I visit him often. Should Lady Elizabeth accept my proposal, Robert will be my groomsman, I am sure!" He laughed.

"If the girl wants you, Fitzcairn, I no objections!" Lord William laughed. "I must warn you. Her head is filled with such romantic twaddle, you will have your work cut out for you."

"I am quite sure Lady Elizabeth will accept."

"The best of luck to you, Fitzcairn. As my wife's cousin's nephew, I will allow you to stay at the manour while you pursue her."

"I am in your debt, my Lord." Fitzcairn bowed again.

*****

Joe shook his head. "Fitzcairn. HUGH Fitzcairn? As in, Mac's friend?"

"The very same. Of course, back then he wasn't Mac's friend. Hell, Mac hadn't even been born!" Methos stretched out. "Back then, his was a 393-year-old pissant vagabond. Of course, he was just a 447-year-old pissant vagabond when MacLeod met him, and a 804-year-old pissant vagabond when he died."

"Fitzcairn was never big on variety, was he?" Rose commented. "Except when it came to women."

"Elizabeth was just beautiful enough that Fitzcairn wanted to bed her, she was also rich enough that he wanted to marry her. Of course, he was going to have his work cut out for him...."

*****

Fitzcairn removed his hat, placing it over his heart. He bowed deeply, kissing Lady Elizabeth on the knuckles. "My dear, you have gotten even more radiant."

Yawning, Elizabeth eyed Fitzcairn warily. "Oh, Master Fitzmartin."

"Fitzcairn, actually, my dear." He smiled. "I have spoken with your father."

"Well, aren't you lucky," Elizabeth said tiredly. "What has he said to you?"

"He is allowing me to court you," Fitzcairn said, putting his hat back on. Elizabeth yawned again. "Darling, does this not please you?"

"I thought we were closely related."

"No, my dear. I am your mother's cousin's brother-in-law's son. There is no problem in our marriage."

"Oh really?" She opened her book. "I was not under that impression."

"What is the problem you see in us marrying?"

Elizabeth thought for a moment. "Well.... You are not my type."

Fitzcairn gaped. "But- But I'm everyone's type!"

"You're not mine," She said casually. "I prefer... An intellectual man."

"Who's more intellectual than me?"

The buzz filled Fitzcairn, overwhelming his senses. His hand went to his sword. Methos entered the library. His hand was at his hip, close to his dagger. He noted Lady Elizabeth.

"Who are you?" Fitzcairn demanded. "What do you want?"

"Mr. Fitzcairn, this is Andrew. He is my father's scribe." She twittered, her cheeks flushing pink. "Hellooooo Andrewwww."

"Who is this?" Methos asked, eyeing Fitzcairn.

"Oh, this is Henry Fitzcairn," Elizabeth waved her hand in dismissal. "A friend of my father's."

"HUGH Fitzcairn," Fitzcairn corrected her, "I am seeking Lady Elizabeth's hand in marriage."

"Lucky you." Methos inwardly sighed in relief. "I just needed a book." He went to the shelf.

Elizabeth watched Methos intensely, licking her lips. Fitzcairn watched jealously. "My-My lady! Let me try to win you over. Come with me to the theater!"

"The theater?" Elizabeth turned to Fitzcairn. "I like the theater."

"Ah, then we shall go to the theater. We will enjoy the great words of a poet, acted by the finest troupe in Europe!"

Sighing in annoyance, Elizabeth looked to Methos. "Will you accompany us, Andrew?"

Methos raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's appropriate, my lady."

"No, Andrew is MUCH too busy to come with us!" Fitzcairn growled at Methos. "Isn't that right, Andrew?"

"Yes, I'm very busy."

Elizabeth seized Methos by the arm. "But Andrewwww..... Fitzcairn and I just CAN'T go unaccompanied. You could be our chaperone. Besides, you said you know the troupe that's in town."

"I do, don't I?" He smiled. "On second thought, I will go with you."

*****

"Waitaminute...." Joe halted Methos. "You couldn't stand her, yet you were chaperoning her on a date?"

"Well, I ended up leaving Fitzcairn and Elizabeth in the audience and went backstage. I was very close to the seamstress with the troupe."

"You went so you could have a quickie with some whore?"

"HEY!" Rose cried indignantly. "I thought we established I've never been a whore!"

*****

Methos pulled Rose to him, running his hand up her skirt. They were both tousled after messily putting their clothes back on. "Mmm.... Best first act ever." He attacked her neck ferociously.

Rose gave a sigh. "I'd love to linger, Old Man, but I need to dress the leading lady."

"But I need to undress again you first." He tugged at her corset. "Come on, Rosalyn. I bet the second act is even better."

"Oh, behave! You are insatiable!" she slapped him away, fixing her clothing. "Isn't your lady in the audience? She is most likely wondering where you are."

"She is occupied with a suitor." Methos growled, nipping at Rose's earlobe. "Get this, it's Hugh Fitzcairn."

"Oh really?" She smiled. "I bet that's interesting. Does she like him?"

"Not in the least."

"Oh, well that's nasty. If only she would marry him. Then I could have my boy back." She moved in for a kiss.

"You just had me, Rosa. Elizabeth means nothing to me." He looked indignant. "And I have not been a boy since before you were born!"

"Just go out there."

"You're no fun." Methos fixed his clothing. "If I kill her, it's your fault."

****

Methos sat back down beside Elizabeth. She hugged his arm. "Andrew, we were worried about you!"

"I'm fine. I was visiting with my friend."

Fitzcairn eyed Methos. He was a man of experience. He could read the look of satisfaction on his face. He had just been intimate. There were few women inside a playhouse. Maybe he wasn't any competition for Elizabeth's affection.

****

Methos got ready for bed, practicing a few swings with his blade before placing it at his bedside. He changed into his nightshirt, getting into bed.

He heard a light knocking on the door.

Sighing, he rose, opening the door. Elizabeth was standing there.

"Oh.... My Lady...." He groaned inwardly. "What can I do for you?"

Elizabeth threw her arms around Methos, sighing in his ear. "I can't keep it a secret any longer, Andrew.... I love you!"

He grabbed at her arms, attempting to pull them away. "Elizabeth! I can't even begin to tell you how improper this is!"

"I don't care, Andrew! I love you! I think we should run away together." Elizabeth hugged him tighter. "I know how you feel about me. I can see it in your eyes!"

"Well, you're a very nice girl, but...."

She threw her weight onto him and they fell to the floor. Methos tried to scramble out from beneath her. "My Lady!"

Methos felt the buzz all through his body. "My LADY!" Fitzcairn was standing in the doorway. "What in the world is going on?"

Elizabeth had the good nature to blush. She rose from the floor. "Please consider my offer, Andrew. Good night."

Methos sighed in relief, pulling himself off the ground. Fitzcairn was seething, grasping desperately for his sword. He huffed and puffed. "I didn't think you would do it!" he cried.

"I didn't do anything!" Methos retorted.

"I WAS going to let you live!" Fitzcairn shouted. He met his sword with Methos'. "I didn't think you were a threat! How could you go after her? You're nothing but a lowly scribe. I can provide for her. I am nobility!"

"Fitzcairn, you made up your nobility." He sighed. "Really, I am no threat when it comes to Lady Elizabeth." He pulled out a dagger, placing it at Fitzcairn's neck. "But I am quite the threat to you." He lowered his dagger slightly. "You're not even worth the effort, Fitzcairn."

"Why-why you--"

"Peace! I really don't want your head. You're going to help me."

"Help you? Why in the world would I help a cad like you?"

Methos tightened his jaw. No, if he killed Fitzcairn, Elizabeth would still be a thorn in his flesh. "If you help me, you'll be able to get Elizabeth."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I am not the least interested in Lady Elizabeth and I would really like her to stop bothering me!" Methos rolled his eyes. "Do you think I'm trying to seduce her? She's throwing herself at me! I *have* a woman and she's quite enough.... BELIEVE me."

"Get back to the part about helping me get her." Fitzcairn said, his eyes narrowing at Methos.

"Anyway, the only reason Elizabeth likes me is because she's got this romantic notion in her head that she needs a poet to fulfill her soul."

Fitzcairn nodded. "Ah! You will write a poem, give it to me, I will give it to the Lady and she will fall to my charms."

Methos nodded. "That's basically my plan." He sighed, "There's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"I don't know how to write romantic poetry."

Fitzcairn sighed deeply. "Well, what good are you then? I need to find someone who can write romantic poetry for me!" He paused. "I don't know anyone."

"I know someone."

A silence passed between them. Fitzcairn sighed. "Well, I guess you are good for something."

****

"Oh great," Joe groaned. "Methos and Fitzcairn, partners-in-crime. I know this story is not going to end well."

"You really have that little faith in my abilities, Dawson?" Methos commented, putting his feet up on the table.

"I think I have enough, considering your track record." Joe sighed, "And Fitzcairn's record is even worse."

"Well, they weren't working alone," Rose commented hoarsely. She coughed hard, putting a hand to her throat.

"Rosalyn, maybe you shouldn't talk," Methos said, stroking her arm. "You're still sore from your fight with Shinta."

"I don't trust you to get it right, Old Man," she said, brushing him away. "Anyway, as Methos and Fitzcairn had already discovered, they were either too stupid or soulless to write a decent poem...."

"I resent that remark!"

"SO Methos did what he was good at...."

****

Rose let out a sigh as Methos placed gentle kisses over her neck. She threw her head back, letting out a sigh. "Oh, Old Man.... You don't know how you affect me."

He smiled, running his talented hands over Rose's form. "I think I have a pretty good idea." His lips covered hers. After a long, sensuous kiss, he pulled away. "Now, you've got something from me....."

Letting out an exasperated groan, Rose pushed Methos away. She sat up, covering her nudity with her sheet. "You want something!"

"Please Rosa, just hear me out!"

"I'm not killing anyone. I got out of that business."

"No, no," Methos pulled her back to the bed. "Nothing that dreadful. I just need a poem. A love poem."

Rose arched her eyebrow. "A love poem? Why?"

"It's for Lady Elizabeth." Methos yelped as Rose pushed him off the bed. "It's not for me! It for Fitzcairn to give to her. He thinks I'm interested in her."

"Ohhhhh...." She nodded. "I get it. Fitzcairn's an illiterate simpleton and Elizabeth won't have anything to do with him. Elizabeth likes you because you're smart and 'romantic'. You want a love poem so that Fitzcairn looks smart and romantic, because it will get them both of your back."

"That sums it up." Methos nuzzled Rose. "Please? I can be very kind when I'm grateful."

Rose smiled, shutting her eyes as Methos sank back down. "Ohhh... I'll get you a poem.... But this won't work, Old Man."

****

"You traded poetry for sex?" Joe shook his head. "Somehow, that got left out of your Chronicles."

"It's not like I did it for ANYONE." Methos replied, glancing to Rose. "Are you telling me you wouldn't?"

"So, you whored yourself out, Rose wrote the poem, you gave it to Fitzcairn, who gave it to Elizabeth....." Joe stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Are you telling me it didn't work?"

"It would have. But someone decided to be lazy......" Methos prodded Rose in the side.

"Hey!" Rose pushed him away, wrinkling her nose. "I said I would get you a poem, I didn't say I was going to write one..... Besides, you and Fitzcairn messed it up before that...."

****

Elizabeth twittered, latching onto Fitzcairn's arm. "I never realized how sensitive you are! Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That Valleys, groves, hills and fields, Woods, or steep mountain yields." She swooned. "I didn't think you even knew how to read!"

Fitzcairn smiled, wrapping his arm around Elizabeth's waist. "Ah, my dear, all I had to do was think of your beauty and the words poured out!"

Methos overheard the pair of lovers cooing to each other. He rolled his eyes. Maybe it's time I move on, he thought to himself, the last thing I want is to be employed by Hugh Fitzcairn. The preparations had been made. Elizabeth and Fitzcairn would be married in a day. All thanks to that poem.

One thing didn't sit right with Methos though, the writing was not Rosalyn's style. He had known her for over five hundred years. He knew what her writing was like. This was not it.

Oh well, it wasn't his problem. They were a couple now and Methos had a policy not to involve himself in the matter of couples. Giving Fitzcairn the poem was involvement enough.

"Oh, Hugh...." Elizabeth cooed, "Would you possibly write me another poem?"

"A-Another poem? But wasn't the first one good enough?" Panic filled Fitzcairn's voice.

"You cannot waste a talent like yours, my love!"

"I-I will write you another one. It will be ready for the wedding."

Elizabeth clapped her hands. "Oooh!" She smiled. "Now, I must take my leave of you. I must make sure my dress fits."

"I will be counting the minutes until your return," Fitzcairn replied, kissing her hand. He watched her leave.

Methos buried his nose in his book as Fitzcairn approached him. "Not on your immortal life."

"But I didn't even ask you!"

"I'm not going to get you another poem." Methos turned the page casually. "I tired myself out getting that one."

"It can't be that hard to write!"

"That's easy for your to say!" Methos poked his finger into Fitzcairn's chest. "You don't even know how to read!" Rising to his feet, Methos collected his possessions. "I helped you once, I'm not going to do it again. Now please.... Leave me alone!"

He strode out of the room, leaving Fitzcairn alone with his problem.

** I'm guessing Lady Elizabeth got mad when Fitzcairn turned up without his new poem.**

**He didn't get that far.**

****

Elizabeth felt anger well within her as she replayed the conversation. She had left her gloves in the study with Fitzcairn and Andrew.

She had heard the heated argument. That poem..... That beautiful poem, written for her, was from Andrew.

It should have been obvious. Fitzcairn did not have the silver tongue, the beguiling artistry with words Andrew possessed.

But what of the words that had been written? Had they truly been for her? Could Andrew have been harbouring a desire for her?

Of course he had. It had been in his eyes since the moment he arrived at the castle. Those beautiful hazel eyes, soulful..... And his handsome features..... His sexy bod--

**METHOS! You can't possibly know what Elizabeth was thinking. Just get on with the story.**

**Geez, Dawson, you have no respect for good storytelling. I was setting the mood. Anyway, Elizabeth was on her way to see me to confront me about the poem. But the entertainment for the wedding was arriving that night....**

****

"So will you be disappearing, dear Rosalyn?" Christopher asked, smiling at the costume mistress. They were following close behind the rest of the theater troupe. "This is where your precious scribe resides, right?"

Rosalyn nodded, smiling. "Yes, Kit.... Andrew does live with Lord William. But this is not a social visit. Do you have something prepare for the wedding celebration tomorrow?"

"Oh yes, a wonderful poem. Highly romantic."

"Who is it about this time, Kit?"

"I draw inspiration from many places," Christopher said, laughing.

"Stop writing poems about my boyfriend, Kit."

**WHAT?!?!?**

**I thought I told you, Old Man. Kit had a big old yen for you.**

**Not THAT. I knew that. You called me your boyfriend?**

**Will you two clowns just continue with the story?**

**Fine, fine.... As committed to her work as Rose was, she couldn't resist seeing me.**

**Are you two a couple of bunnies or something?**

****

Methos laughed, chasing Rosalyn around his room. She clutched tightly to the bedcoverings which shielded her body. "Come back here," he growled, "I'm not finished with you."

"I need to get back to work!" Rosalyn replied, holding her hand out to keep him at bay. "I have several costumes that need mending before the celebration tomorrow."

"Don't leave me wanting, Rosalyn," Methos begged, "Just once more, then work."

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her gently. She gave into his advances, running her fingers through his hair.

The two were so involved with each other, they did not hear the door open. They weren't aware of the door opening.

"ANDREW!!!!" Came a shrill scream.

Methos tore away from Rosalyn. He stared at Lady Elizabeth. "My- my lady.... It is customary to knock."

"Who is this?" She demanded, pointing at Rosalyn. "A whore?"

"It is not really any of your business," he replied sharply.

"You wrote me that beautiful poetry!" Elizabeth picked up a vase, throwing it at Methos' head. He dodged it, racing for the door, forgetting his was stark naked.

"Poetry? Fitzcairn wrote you poetry!" Methos scampered to the exit, avoiding a dangerously aimed book.

"I know you were the one who wrote it! You wrote it for ME! You love me!"

"You're insane!"

Another book flew through the air, hitting Methos in the temple. He stumbled into the corridor, where Fitzcairn was walking. "Andrew? What in the world is going on?"

"You are a horrible man!" Elizabeth shrieked, grabbing everything she could to throw at Methos. She then noticed Fitzcairn. "And YOU! You DARE deceive me by using Andrew's poetry as your own!"

"You told her!?!?" Fitzcairn yelled at Methos, drawing his sword. "How could you?"

"I didn't!" Methos yelled back. "She just found out! Put that thing away!"

"You're one to talk!" Fitzcairn gestured to Methos' state of undress.

"Dammit! Rosalyn! Give me something to cover myself!" Methos barked. Rosalyn was too busy laughing to be of much help. She covered her mouth, shaking with controlled mirth. "ROSALYN! It is NOT AMUSING!"

"I am terribly sorry.... It is not amusing..." She shook her head. "No.... it really is very amusing. You two are complete asses!"

Fitzcairn and Methos gave Rosalyn a withering stare. "Who in the world are you?" Fitzcairn asked.

"I am Andrew's companion."

"Don't be too sure about that," Methos muttered.

Fitzcairn turned to Methos, brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought you preferred boys."

"What gave you that idea?"

"You DO have a certain quality, Andrew." Rosalyn commented.

"You are treading a thin line, Rosalyn!"

"All of you BE QUIET!" Elizabeth shouted. "Are you all in a conspiracy against me?"

Before any of them could answer, a voice wafted through the corridor.

"Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That Valleys, groves, hills and fields, Woods, or steep mountain yields...."

Elizabeth picked up her skirts, following the voice. Methos, Rosalyn and Fitzcairn followed behind her.



Methos grabbed at the sheet covering Rosalyn, using the corner to shield his own nudity.

"WHY are you reading my poem?" Elizabeth demanded the young poet.

"Your poem?" Christopher shook his head. "My dear lady, you must be mistaken... This is my poem. I wrote it last month."

"WHAT?!?!" Elizabeth turned to Methos and Fitzcairn. "You couldn't even give Fitzcairn a poem you wrote, Andrew?"

Methos turned to Rosalyn. "You stole a poem from Kit?"

"I BORROWED it. I didn't think it would matter!"

"The whore was in on this conspiracy too?" Elizabeth clutched her bosom.

"I am NOT a whore!" Rosalyn yelled.

The situation was threatening to go to blows when a bellowing yelling pierced their ears. "FITZCAIRN!!!!!!!"

The voice was highly recognizable as that of Lord William. The blond immortal became wide-eyed. He looked from Elizabeth, to Methos, to Rosalyn, to Christopher. He turned and ran.

Rosalyn and Methos looked at each other. "I think it's time we get out of here," Methos said.

"I agree. Let's go."

****

"So what had happened?" Dawson asked.

"Well, we didn't really stick around to find out, but I heard the story secondhand. Apparently, Fitzcairn had found a lost nobleman with the same name. Anyway, the nobleman reappeared and was QUITE upset ot hear someone had usurped his identity. Our Fitzcairn had to get out of town quickly to avoid a nasty fight."

"I don't understand.... How did that little event go from 'A Comedy of Morons' to 'Cyrano De Bergerac'?"

Methos cracked his knuckles, turning to Rose. "Mind enlightening him?"

"Well, I was a little mad at Methos.... And I knew it would really burn him up to have him turned into a character in a story again. Of course, the REAL story wouldn't have made much drama, so I fudged a few facts and Edmond did take some dramatic license....."

"I STILL can't believe you did that to me. I didn't do anything that horrible!"

"You tried to bed my daughter," Rose deadpanned, "You got off LIGHT."

"How was I to know she was your daughter?" Methos demanded. "She was a 28-year-old Frenchwoman!"

"I was in town, you shouldn't have been trying to bed anyone."

Joe covered his ears. "All right! I think I've got the idea! Now get out of here! You're giving me a headache!"

Methos and Rose got up and left, bickering as they went.

Joe shook his head, relishing in the silence. He pulled out his computer, opening his Chronicle. "Cyrano de Methos.... Who wouldn't thunk?"

****

Rose licked her lips, looking up at Methos. "You're not really still mad at me over the Cyrano thing, are you, Old Man?"

Methos slung his arm over her shoulder. "Well...... I was mad for a long time.... But thanks to my friend Tom, I think I've gotten over it."

"I don't get it. Your friend Tom?"

"Yeah." Methos smiled smugly. "Tom Stoppard. So, Rose..... Have you seen 'Shakespeare in Love'?"

"YOU BASTARD!" she took a swing at him. "I should have known! I was never like that!"

He dodged her punch, grin still wide. "Sorrry, did I offend you?"

"I would NEVER! You told him-- With Shakespeare! You asshole!"

"Rosalyn, don't reach for that sword.... No.... Hey, Rosa.... I was just kidding......"

****

May 15, 2001

Dear Em,

I'm glad immortality grants us with quick healing. I would hate to explain to my colleagues that I got a black eye from a woman. Rose is overpowering when she wants to be. I shouldn't have told her about the 'Shakespeare in Love' thing. You were aware that I told the writer of our little Rosalyn, right? Of course you did, you're a clever boy.

Maybe Rose and I have gotten a little to petty. We've been pulling tricks on each other for nearly a millennia. I'm just glad neither of us can really hold a grudge. I'd hate to get into a real row with her.

And for the record, my nose is NOT that big!

~The Old Man

****

Words that never were true.
Spoken to help nobody but you.
Words with lies inside,
But small enough to hide
'Til your playin' was through.
--Words (Tommy Boyce/Bobby Hart)

****

Next time on "The Methos Chronicles": Material Girl

Establishing a new identity is troublesome work-- especially when you're wanted in a dozen countries! Our favourite old guy has to aid the Queen of Theives in her newest endevour.

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