A/N this was originally written in the early 2000s then inadvertently removed and reposted to FF same day hence the date. I'm currently recovering from a shoulder injury so I have time on my hands and interest in cleaning this series up (Feb 2020). It should be cleaner and more readable now. Please feel free to submit comments and suggestions for improvements.

"Ben?"

"Who is this?"

"Gideon."

"Jason? Why are you calling –"

"Need your help."

"Why me?"

"You're the best."

"Jason-"

"Seattle."

Methos stared at his cell phone. Lips pressed into a thin line. Jason Gideon, a ghost from the past. Methos wanted to run, to hide, Gideon had X-ray eyes, in their short acquaintance the soft-spoken agent had seen through enough of Methos' alter ego to know something of the man beneath. Too much for comfort.

Still, he had asked for help and Gideon wouldn't do that lightly. So, if Methos didn't go Gideon and his team would most likely eventually find their prey, but what about the people who would die in the meantime?

He licked his suddenly dry lips and slipped the phone into his coat pocket. He could be in Seattle in under two hours. He had a debt to pay and Gideon was right, he could hunt the monsters at least as well as Gideon, after all he'd been one once.

Seattle reminded him of Elle. One of his failures. They were profilers, they should have anticipated her change of heart after her ordeal, foreseen the possibilities and known she was a threat to the unsub. He hadn't and they'd lost her, for good. One way or another.

It wasn't raining for once. Jason Gideon tucked his coat close anyway, the high humidity and cool temperature combined to cut through his undershirt, dress shirt and heavy coat. No wonder the locals tended toward layers.

He followed his team into the headquarters building trying not to see Elle's shade in the crowd of eager agents waiting for them. Hotchner and J.J. took care of introductions and the team sat down for their initial brief and question and answer period. They had all read the file, nonetheless the verbal brief was necessary.

"I'm SSA Alex Mayer." Her voice was short and sharp, not breath or syllable wasted.

"We have seven bodies over seven months, with very little to go on. No useful latent forensics have been found at any of the crime scenes, which suggests the victims are killed elsewhere and then dumped."

"How did this enter our jurisdiction?" Dr. Spencer Reid asked.

"Body disposal, the unsub decapitates his victims, the third victim's head was left across state lines, in northern Oregon. Just as well, he jumped so many jurisdictions that the bureaucratic mess was going to land in our laps sooner or later." Mayer said calmly.

"It's likely that was intentional." Aaron Hotchner.

"The autopsy reports indicated the unsub uses an extremely sharp instrument with a long edge, anything more specific?" Morgan asked.

"Not especially, best guess is a sword, each decapitation has been surgically precise."

"So, he can decapitate an adult with a sword with extreme precision?" Reid asked intrigued. The rest of the team eyed him. Gideon watched expressionlessly.

"It's extremely difficult to cleanly decapitate a human being, the spinal column is a lot tougher than it seems. Often during executions, the executioner would have to strike twice." Reid explained.

"But a sword is a more precise instrument, nobility were often given the choice of death by a sword rather than the traditional axe." Gideon pointed out.

"Whatever the case this guy is ninja good with a sword." Mayer continued.

"Are there any defensive wounds?" Emily Prentiss asked bringing the briefing back on topic. The report had listed the victim's blood at two crime scenes but there was no mention of any injuries aside from the fatal decapitation.

"No, and that's another strange aspect, none of the victims had any other injuries aside from the fatal injury but in two cases we found portions of clothing cut and stained with the victim's blood as though they had been injured."

"Victimology?" Jennifer Jereau asked. Often it was this portion of the initial review that determined whether a press conference was needed and what, if any, information would be released.

"It seems quite random. One victim was African American, two were female, one was Latino, and they range in age from early twenties to mid-fifties."

Gideon was studying the crime scene and autopsy photos in his file. "They all appear to be extremely fit." He said.

"Yes, we've been running photos to area gyms and athletic clubs but it's a big city. So far we haven't turned up anything."

Gideon's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and immediately answered it abruptly excusing himself from the rest of the briefing. The team exchanged glances, easily missed by an outsider but as good as a scream to the tight knit profilers. Gideon would never – had never left a briefing like that before. He might've missed it entirely and sent Hotch first, but he wouldn't interrupt one like that.

"You're coming?" Gideon asked holding one hand over his phone close as though nervous about being overheard.

"I'm in town. Where do you want me?" Methos asked quietly, his voice sounded thin.

Gideon gave him the address to the FBI building.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Methos said tightly.

"Thank you." Gideon said genuinely. Methos hung up.

This was stupid. He'd had contact with Gideon twice a week, for a total of two and a half months. In that brief acquaintance Gideon had guessed or surmised more about Methos than most of the people he'd known for decades.

He left the coffee shop and started walking. He'd known where the FBI office was located, ad simply wanted an excuse to stall the inevitable. In moments he was staring up at the stern facade of the FBI building. It started to rain, harder than usual, raindrops bouncing off the sidewalk, gutters and drains quickly filling. Some people produced hoods or umbrellas, most just kept walking, no one ran in a vague attempt to avoid the inevitable wetting. One of the few cities where Methos had ever seen that.

He shook the thought away and walked toward the entrance. Gideon was standing in the foyer, ready to wave him through security. Methos felt naked without his sword, ignored the sweat on his palms and flexed his hands aching for that familiar handle and weight.

He nodded at Gideon. The man had aged in the ten or so years since they'd met. Methos vaguely wished he'd been able to hide his lack of age but any use of makeup or his usual tricks would be a red flag. He'd gained a small amount of weight but mostly it was his eyes that had changed. They were heavy with knowledge.

"Thank you for coming."

"I came as fast as I could." Methos replied around at the bustling lobby nervously.

"You're an expert in swords and hand to hand combat, and I trust you."

"I thought you were with the BAU?" Methos would have assumed they would have in-house experts.

"I am, we have a special case." Gideon said leading the way to an elevator. Methos felt his stomach sink. He knew the BAU generally hunted serial killers, kidnappers, mass poisoners and so on. The only reason he could think of that Gideon would have contacted him is if they were investigating a series of sword related murders. If Gideon had just mentioned Methos' expertise with hand-to-hand combat then maybe…but no, the mention of swords…

"We have seven victims, all decapitated the severed neck was cauterized, each was moved from the kill site and dumped."

"Decapitated?" Methos asked numbly.

"Yes, apparently with a sword by an extremely skilled swordsman."

"Or woman?" Methos suggested.

"Possible but doubtful, each victim was an adult, extremely fit and would be hard for a small man or woman to dispose of alone."

Methos was nodding along.

"Where do I come in?" He asked carefully.

"I need to know what kind of person would have this kind of skill. There can't be too many people with them in this day and age."

"You want a list?" Methos asked arching an eyebrow. If that was all Gideon needed Methos could have emailed it easily. A sudden cold thought rang through the immortal's head. Methos was reasonably local, he was known to be an excellent swordsman by Gideon. He swallowed.

"You know my name will have to be on there." He pointed out. Gideon's deep eyes met Methos' and a long moment passed.

"I'm local, I have the skill set you're looking for and I'm probably capable of dumping those bodies alone."

"I know." Gideon said.