Author's Notes: This is set in 2019, however Season Six and any movie except the first don't exist. Richie and Joe are very much alive.

The University of Seacouver was not the most prestigious of schools. But in the past few years, it had developed a decent reputation as good— but inexpensive— public university.

Methos could have falsified a resume that could have gotten him into Cambridge or Harvard, but there was a certain appeal in working at a school with less prestige. For one, it kept less attention on him. That was always at the forefront of his mind. For centuries he'd kept his head down and that had kept it firmly on his shoulders. He didn't see much reason in changing that.

There was another reason Methos liked the University of Seacouver. He didn't really want to admit it. It was so very unlike him to give voice to such thoughts. But he did enjoy the company he'd found in the city. It had been over twenty years since he'd first met MacLeod, but he couldn't seem to resist the draw of the Highland Boy Scout. It wasn't just Mac. Amanda, Richie and Joe tended to stay in MacLeod's sphere. So when Methos had decided to set up a permanent new identity ten years previous, he'd done so in the rainy little city.

Somewhere along the line, the man who had hidden for millennia had found a new family. He had not only not been looking for it, he'd actively avoided it. But still... It had happened.

That was how he found himself as Doctor Adam Bennett. It wasn't a bad identity to have. It fit a bit easier than Adam Pierson had. There was something frustrating about the eternal graduate student. He was a little too low profile, too unassuming. At least as Adam Bennett his students took him seriously. Even if he did downplay his own wisdom, he had some kernels that were rarely appreciated amongst his nearest and dearest. His students, however, hung on his every word.

He was equally appreciated amongst his peers. He'd gained quite a reputation as an erudite, young professor. It was that reputation the Dean hoped to exploit.

"She's young, fresh..." Dean Peterson explained. "But her papers are brilliant. She'd be a real boon to the school."

"It's not even my department!" Methos exclaimed, laughing slightly. "Why would I be the best person to show this woman around?"

Peterson's brow furrowed deeply. "Have you not looked at yourself in the mirror lately?"

Methos leaned back in his chair, sprawling. "Are you suggesting I seduce her to get her to work for us?"

"It's almost a done deal." Peterson leaned in. "Just show her around. Maybe take her for a drink. Nothing has to happen. Just show her what Seacouver has to offer her."

Methos rolled his eyes. "And when am I supposed to do this? I do have papers I need to mark..."

"You have a very capable TA," Peterson pointed out. "And she'll be here..."

Methos felt the tingling in his spine. He sat up straighter, his eyes glancing towards his trenchcoat and the blade hidden inside of it. "I'm guessing right about now."

The door to Methos' office opened and a slight brunette walked in. She had one hand tucked inside of her long coat, looking wary. She relaxed, dropping her hand at the sight of Methos and letting out a long sigh.

Methos smiled broadly. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Peterson looked between the two. "You two know each other?"

1175, Hampshire, England

Methos kicked his horse, encouraging it to ride harder down the road towards Winchester Castle. He had already ridden for three days. The young squire with him looking around the road nervously. "I pray we reach the castle before nightfall, Doctor. The Queen is in need of your care and there are bandits close by."

Methos glanced to the brush, seeing it move in a way incongruous to the wind. "Alas gentle fellow, they are closer than you may think."

A half dozen men emerged from the woods, blocking the path towards the castle. Swords and bows were trained on them.

Methos raised his hands to show he was unarmed. His reflexes were fast. He could retrieve his sword in the blink of an eye. But one of those arrows could be faster. A petty inconvenience to him in the short term, but reviving in front of so many people would be... Troublesome. "We have no treasures for you to plunder. I am but a simple healer, dispatched to treat the Queen Consort."

Another figure emerged from the woods. The buzz of another immortal made him drop his hand to his side. He still did not pull his blade. It had been years since he'd been in a fight. He wanted to avoid it if at all possible.

The figure was small, face shadowed in a hood. "And what ails the Queen Consort?"

Methos shook his head. "That I will not know until I examine her. I implore you, grant us safe passage. There is nothing you desire here."

Slender hands pulled back the hood, revealing a comely young woman with dark hair and green eyes. Her dirt stained face could not hide the obvious breeding in her. This was no lowly bandit. "I desire the place at your side. No one will miss your escort, nor notice a replacement."

Methos laughed, looking to the squire. The boy looked rattled by his inclusion in the discussion. Methos remained unfazed. "And why would you desire such a trifle?"

The lady produced an elegant sword from inside her roughly hewn cloak. It was too beautiful a weapon to belong to anyone but a noble. She held it threateningly towards him. "Or else I shall desire something much more grave. No one has to die here today, good sir. I only ask for entrance to the castle. My men will keep the squire until I have accomplished my task."

Methos looked to the nervous young man at his side. He nodded his head and the boy yelled as the bandits pulled him from his horse. His outer clothing was torn from him. The lady removed her cloak and donned the squire's clothing. She tossed him her cloak before mounting the horse. She nodded to her men. "Return to camp. I shall return by the morrow. If I do not, kill the squire. Come along, good doctor. You have an ailing Queen to administer to."

Methos set his horse to a trot alongside his new companion-captor. "If we are to ride together, your name would be much appreciated."

"Marion," she replied.

Methos narrowed his gaze. "False. Do not deceive a deceiver, my lady."

The woman regarded Methos for a long time. "Matilda de Gascony."

Methos smiled, nodding. "Ah. Sounds much more natural. You have done a poor job of disguising the Poitevin in your voice. You do not wish to enter the castle in search of riches, do you, my lady?"

The lady gripped her horse's reins tighter. "I never implied that to be the case."

"How well do you know the Queen?"

"As well as anyone living." Matilda's face was set with determination. "The King has been keeping her one step ahead of me. I have not been able to free her from her imprisonment for two years. Your head is quite safe so long as you allow me to free her from her captivity."

"Such loyalty is a rarity amongst our kind, good lady," Methos replied, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. "Have you been in service to her your entire existence?"

Her expression turned to one of irritation. "I do not appreciate your queries, Good Doctor."

"Then you give me my answer. I know not who taught you what we are and how we comport ourselves, but blind loyalty to a crown will take that pretty head from your body soon."

"My loyalty is not blind," Matilda spat. "I know very well where they lay. Aliénor is not my queen, she is my friend. I travelled with her from Vézelay to Antioch. Not even death could keep me from her right hand. It was only when the court became suspicious of my age that I was forced to leave her side. Then she was imprisoned by that cad, Henry."

Methos chuckled. "Oh, the folly of youth!"

Matilda's featured twisted in irritation as she glowered at Methos. "I am hardly a child. I am fifty-three years old!"

"Apologies. I should have seen the wisdom in your eyes." Methos continued to laugh, shaking his head. She was but an infant compared to him!

Matilda's mouth was set in a pout. "You insult me, but you have not deemed to tell me your own name, Good Doctor."

"They call me Adam."

Matilda smirked at him. "False."

Methos shrugged. "No, others do indeed call me Adam. It is just not the first thing I have ever been called."

"Well, Adam..." Matilda raised her chin up. "If one should concern themselves only with their own well-being, why do you ride to the castle to cure my Queen of her maladies?"

Methos shrugged. "We need to do something to pass the time, do we not?"

They were quiet for the rest of the ride to the castle. As they approached the gates, Matilda pulled her hood back up. Guards blocked the path to the gates. "Who approaches?"

"I am a doctor," Methos replied. "The Queen is ill. I was sent for."

"The Queen has recovered," one of the guards replied. "She has been moved. Your services are no longer required." He tossed a bag of coin to Methos. "For your troubles."

Methos had barely caught the bag when Matilda had turned her horse and began to gallop away. Methos took off quickly after her.

He rode hard, urging his horse onward. He managed to get ahead of her, blocking her path. "What are you doing, my lady?"

"It has taken me months to trace my Queen to this castle. I haven't a moment to lose. I must free her."

Methos got off of her horse. He grabbed Matilda by the waist. She let out a shriek, hitting at him. He ignored her and pulled her off of her horse. "My lady, these are the issues of mortals. The King will have you killed if you do not cease in your pursuit. You are too comely to face an executioner."

Matilda smacked Methos' hands away from her. "I should allow my queen to rot away in prison?"

"She is kept in castles. Most in this world are not so well imprisoned as she. May I ask who exactly taught you of what you are?"

"He was a knight on the Crusade. I had drowned, but somehow recovered. He taught me of our kind and how to survive. I abandoned him when..." She looked down, shame in her features. "When he demanded things one does not demand of a lady."

Methos nodded. "He taught you what we are and how we live. Yet I believe he neglect to teach you how to truly survive." He held out a hand to her. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

Matilda looked at his hand warily. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Methos smiled. "We need something to pass the time, do we not?"

Methos rose from his desk and crossed the office quickly. He pulled the woman into a light embrace. "What is it now?" He whispered in her ear.

"Matilda Guyenne," she replied.

He smiled. "Back to the old classics."

She patted him on the back. "You're one to talk... Adam."

Methos pulled back and looked Matilda over. Her makeup and hair were clearly calculated to make her appear older than her eternal twenty-five. He'd taken similar steps to disguise his own lack of aging.

"Well!" Peterson clapped his hands. "This works out well, you two being old friends. Adam, please show Doctor Guyenne around the campus. I'm sure you can answer any questions she has. You kids have fun."

The door shut behind him. Matilda watched the door shut before turning back to Methos. "You do realize by admitting we know each other, you've probably put the idea in his head that you and I have had a torrid affair."

Methos frowned, furrowing his brow. "And that would be inaccurate how?"

She broke out into a large grin. "Oh, Old Man... It's been an age!"

Methos wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her around, hugging her tightly. He pulled back, looking down at her. "How long has it been?" He narrowed his gaze. "1925... November... Paris?"

Matilda crinkled her nose. "1969... August... Upstate New York."

"Ah. I still don't remember." A devilish grin crossed Methos' face. "We must have had a fantastic time. So Doctor Guyenne, Professor of English Literature. I'm shocked. I thought you'd be in that art gallery of yours until someone took your head."

She shrugged. "You need a change every once and a while or you'll go insane. Besides, it's harder to hide yourself if you stay in the same place. I still own the gallery. I need somewhere to keep all my stuff. Friend runs it for me. Seemed like this might be a nice thing to try for a while. All this time and I've never gotten to impart wisdom en masse."

Methos fell onto his sofa, relaxing into a casual sprawl. "So you've decided to impart about the romantic poets."

Matilda nudged his feet to get him to move. When he wouldn't, she rolled her eyes and lifted his feet. She settled them in her lap while she sat down. "Well, we need to do something to pass the time, do we not? And I do have a very personal interest in the subject."

Methos grew pensive. He took a deep breath, studying Matilda's delicate features. "Speaking of your personal interest..." He trailed off, not really knowing how to break the truth to her.

Matilda turned to face him. She was stone-faced, just a hint of sadness in her green eyes. "I know about Byron already. I have for years."

Methos swallowed hard. "You do?"

Matilda laughed softly, bitterly. "An international rock star was beheaded. That tends to make the news. Of course I know about it."

Methos remained solemn. He reached out, taking her hand. "That... Wasn't actually what I was going to tell you. Of course you knew. But...Matty, I was there. When it happened. I didn't do it... But..."

This made Matilda take in a sharp breath. But she soon nodded, pulling her hand away. "Oh. Okay. So... It was MacLeod, was it?"

Methos blinked. "You know about MacLeod?"

"Everyone knows about MacLeod." Matilda sighed, shaking her head. "I mean, I only know him from reputation. Never met him myself. Someone—" She leaned over and poked Methos in the chest. "—Taught me to stay away from troublemakers like that."

Methos nodded. "I know, I know... He is just a bit hard to stay away from. He's got a magnetic personality."

Matilda leaned back. "You know, Byron and I actually weren't even talking when it happened. Hadn't in about twenty years. I made the mistake of telling him I slept with Keats."

Methos couldn't help but smile sadly. "That would do it. Still, I'm surprised. You and Byron staying away from each other for twenty years? Thought you two had an annual lost weekend."

Matilda grimaced. She glanced away, a faint blush appearing in her cheeks. "Well... I actually saw him about three months before he died. There just wasn't a lot of talking involved."

This caused both of them to laugh uproariously again. Methos shook his head. "You are twisted."

Matilda poked him in the chest once again. "You are the one who introduced us. And I believe you also had him first. You also probably have him after me if you saw him right before he died. If I'm twisted, it takes one to know one." She grew somber. "I'm not surprised really. The last time I saw him... It wasn't pretty. Frankly, I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did, the way he lived. Mad, bad and dangerous to know. But it's also dangerous to be." She sighed deeply. "But you know... Occupational hazard for me. I tend to hang around troubled souls that aren't around too long. Byron got more than most."

They were both quiet for a long time after that. Matilda looked over Methos. "Of course, some troubled souls I've known have been around a very, very long time." She shoved Methos' feet off of her and stood up. She then held out a hand. "Come on."

"Come on where?" Methos asked.

Matilda stretched out her hand further. "I don't want to talk about depressing things anymore and you were supposed to call me in 1970, but you never did... So we're going to go out and you're going to buy me a drink. You can tell me all about your new boyfriend. Besides, you're supposed to woo me into working at this place."

Methos took her hand. "MacLeod is not my boyfriend." He hauled himself up.

"Probably not from lack of trying on your part." Matilda tugged at his hand. "Now come on. You've been a busy boy and I want to hear all about it from you yourself."

"How do you know what I've been up to?" Methos asked, letting her pull him along.

"How are you supposed to avoid trouble if you don't know who is causing trouble?" Matilda tsked. "You have clearly forgotten everything you ever taught me. You are slipping in your old age. But I would like to hear it directly from the source. Come on, Old Man... What caused you to finally get off your ass and get back into the Game?"

"This is going to take a while." Methos slung an arm over her shoulders. "I've got just the place to take you."

"Joe, you should really learn how to do this yourself." Richie Ryan grimaced as he fiddled with the wires connected to the modem.

Joe huffed and pointed his cane at the bar. "It's a blues club! Why does someone have to be able to check their Twitter?"

"Everywhere offers free Wifi these days." Richie finally got the final wire in place. "If you don't have it, people are going to go elsewhere."

Duncan shook his head before picking up his drink. "The things people worry about these days."

He paused for a moment as he felt the sensation of another immortal presence. He lifted his head, looking around. Richie rose up from behind the bar.

"Evening," Methos said, sauntering into the club. He had his arm around a pretty brunette. He noticed the cables on top of the bar. "Joe, did you make the internet angry again?"

Duncan stood up, his eyes narrowed warily. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Matilda Guyenne. We go way back."

Richie eyed her with a slight frown. "Just how far back?"

Methos smiled tightly. "Circa the Third Crusade. Matty, this is Duncan MacLeod, Richie Ryan and Joe Dawson. You can speak freely in front of Joe."

Matilda shook Joe's hand. She turned their joined hands up and moved up his cuff, exposing the faded blue tattoo identifying him as a Watcher. "Are you so sure about that?"

Joe pulled his hand away. "I'm retired. But how do you know..." He glared at Methos.

Matilda smiled at Methos. "Even if he hadn't told me, you guys are one of the worst kept secrets in the immortal world. I'm just surprised. Usually if we're getting up to tricks, the Old Man has me ditch my Watcher." She tutted softly at Methos. "You have changed."

Methos sighed. "Not by choice. I was discovered. It's a real pain in the ass. I'm sure my field Watcher has already contacted my researchers, cross-referencing your chronicles for every appearance of a dashingly handsome, dark haired immortal man."

Matilda shook hands with Richie and then turned to face Duncan. Duncan held out his hand. "Any friend of Methos..."

"...Is quickly beheaded?" Matilda finished. Methos and Joe both cringed, while Duncan quickly withdrew his hand. Matilda bit her lip. "Sorry. I've got a bit of a morbid sense of humour and the Old Man and I were catching up on old friends. It's nice to meet you, Duncan. Your legend looms large." She smiled. "Now if you boys will excuse me... I'm just going to freshen up..."

She walked back towards the ladies room, the men watching her as she went. Duncan sat down heavily in his seat.

"What was that about?" Duncan asked.

"Byron," Joe replied, looking to Methos for confirmation.

Methos nodded. "They were close."

"Just how close?" Duncan asked warily.

Methos shook his head. "We all have our companions. When I was making trouble with Byron and the Shelleys, I had to introduce them to Matty. She's always had a way with creative souls. Only natural she should bond with an immortal poet. But it's really nothing to worry about. She knew what he was. And she's not the revenge sort. I taught her better than that."

Richie slid into the seat next to Duncan. "She's your student?"

"Close enough to one." Methos sprawled in the chair across from Duncan. "She's moving to town. Going to be teaching at the University. We just came across each other, thought we should catch up. And she does have a point..."

"What's that?" Duncan asked.

Methos sighed heavily. "My friends do seem to meet quick ends when I come across them again. I really need to do a better job of holding onto the ones I still have."

Matilda exited the bathroom, smiling broadly. "Okay. I hope I gave you boys enough time to talk about me behind my back. And Old Man, you still owe me the story of what you've been up to since we last saw each other."

"Right." Methos nodded. "The last time we saw each other. When you ditched me to go to a club with Scott and Zelda."

Matilda shook her head. "Noooo... I already told you. That's not the last time we saw each other. You just don't remember . You— with an abundance of substance taken— had made an ass out of yourself because you felt ignored in favour of Jimi."

Methos rolled his eyes. "Oh, I did always take a backseat whenever you had a project."

Matilda smirked at him. "Well, maybe if you wrote something other than your boring history books, you'd hold my attention better."

Methos leaned in close. "I believe I've held your attention quite well, Lady de Gascony."

"Oh my God." Richie shook his head. "You're flirting. Flirting is really strange on you, Old Timer."

Matilda smiled slyly. "I don't know... I think he's always been pretty good at it."

"All right... So after '69..." Methos sighed. "Well, I spent the better part of the seventies in quite the haze. But by the mid-eighties, I cleaned up my act and became Adam Pierson, a mild-mannered graduate student... And a Watcher."

Matilda laughed. "You were a Watcher again?"

"Again?" Duncan, Richie and Joe asked in unison.

Matilda squeezed Methos' shoulder. "I've never gotten the full story out of the Old Man, but I'm pretty sure he helped form that group of voyeurs. Every century or so he likes to pop back in."

"What can I say?" Methos smirked. "I just love history."

"You just love messing with them." Matilda poked him. "So Adam Pierson, innocent graduate student and Watcher..." She turned her attention to Duncan. "And then I'm going to guess you happened."

Methos nodded. "And that, milady, is the longest story I've got. Joe, you better get us some drinks."

Historical Notes: Aliénor d'Aquitaine (Eleanor of Aquitaine) was one of the most powerful women in the middle ages. She was first married to King Louis VI of France. She came with him on the unsuccessful second Crusade. She took with her many Ladies in Waiting. The trip was treacherous and many died. After her annulment from Louis, she married Henry II and because the Queen Consort of England. She was imprisoned by Henry from 1173 to 1189, for supporting their son in a revolt.

John Keats was a one of the romantic poets, a contemporary of Lord Byron's. He wrote such poems as Ode on a Grecian Urn, Ode to a Nightingale, and Endymion. He and Lord Byron had a pretty intense dislike for each other.

And Jimi Hendrix did indeed play a show in upstate New York in 1969...