Why Do Fools Fall in Love?, a highlander fanfic

"Why Do Fools Fall in Love"
or
"How to get a Valentines Date Without Really Trying."

Rush hour began as usual, the streets full of activity, as he pressed into the shadows. He wished for obscure, a chameleon affect would be nice, as he inched further against the wall, and became one with the brickwork. Adam, chided himself, making an appearance in public, on a holiday, I must be delusional, and St. Valentine's of all days.

If people knew what went on centuries before, they may not be so enthusiastic. Frustrated, he balanced himself, his view cast a glaring eye, shifting weight back and forth in an uneasy stance as he speculated the time of dusk. Every fool and his brother decorated the streets buying flowers and chocolates as gestures of devotion in the name of love.

Ten minutes no more, and the hazy evening would cast its ethereal madness. Dusk; a feign deceptive overcast, the incandescent shroud prior to sunset. He needed to leave, as he rubbed his hands together and tried to hide his frosty breath, okay you can do it old man, he mumbled, as he surveyed the oncoming crowd. The buildings appeared normal for the day's end. The structure's entrances and exits free of lurkers, would-be catacombs in the alley ways, and elusive alcoves, also vacant. Nothing seemed amiss. No odd sensations, only the overall giddiness of anticipating females. What a downfall to society, his brow furrowed and his lips tightened. I'm not callused, he mumbled again, as the highlander's voice rang in his ear and irritated the back of his neck, even though absent.

Why should there be one specific day set aside for the interpretation of love; the giving of gifts to one's spouse or inferred person? Special attention devoted, which otherwise lacked in the following 364 days. The ever skeptical one mused on as he kept his eyes glued to the passersby. If that someone truly bore your regard shouldn't it be habitual; the sharing of unconditional love and respect, thoughtful innuendos, and niceties on a continual basis?

He winced at his cynicism. His satirical distain for holidays in general shed a bleak tone, but this particular one topped it out. I mean what can I expect after 5,000 years, reassuring himself there was an excuse, and thus a grant for absolution here. Not that he cared to be absolved. Reluctantly, he stepped forward, his misfortune to join the Valentine's Day throng. Linking his hands to the collar of his trench he pulled it taut to his neck and slouched slightly. An invisibility device, a ploy to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, but the truth be known, it worked.

Two blocks and hundreds of people to the hotel, the ancient one made a last glance to asses his stratagem. Amidst his leery overtones the sun began its descent, a golden pink mist touched down on the city of Seacouver.

He turned for the second time, checking his back, verifying his place in the bustle of pedestrians, making sure no one followed. The glitz of bright red cellophane and coddled roses drew his eyes into a gentleman's arms, and sent him pondering once more. Piqued at humanity, and their once a year love extravaganza. Annoyed at himself more, that he bothered to let conjecture unsettle his mind. It was not, nor should be his concern how the person next to him treated his wife, slash, significant or in this case possibly insignificant other, the remainder of the year. Petty thoughts and sidelong glances only served one purpose, to detour his mind from matters of priority. Focus, Adam...and he turned his head.

"Uhhhhh...Ohhhhh..." his feet slid, his balance lost, his body wrangled, a split second falling sensation as he tripped over a large hard object. He clenched his teeth as the blur of angry faces whirled past, and he tried to reclaim himself, arms flailing in mid air. In his efforts he slammed directly into someone, unable to retain his stance, he tried to prevent a disaster, but, landed flat; back first, head next, onto the cold pavement. As the bereft immortal fell, robbed of dignity, not to mention balance he pulled whom ever or whatever directly on top of him.

His one man exhibition immediately claimed his pride as the heat inside his face reached extraordinary proportions. Folly, nothing but, his back wrenched as did the pain in his head like a torpedo propelled. The ancient one sure he recounted all his years during the first few moments from standing to floor, as his vision slowly cleared. He captured his breath and stared upwards into vivid emerald eyes. A young woman sprawled above him, and he ineptly said the first foolish thing that came to mind...

"I...uhh...Happy Valentines Day?"

Even though in his very best British accent, followed by an extremely smirky grin, the humiliation was noticeably apparent.

The woman still quite dazed hastily removed herself from the inappropriate position, as onlookers veered to avoid the fiasco.

"Ahh Oui...I am so sorry Monsieur."

He looked around at bags flung from one end of the sidewalk to the other, and gave a heavy sigh, as the bomb finally burst, and the torpedo struck its target. He had irrevocably bungled his poor attempt at being inconspicuous.

The woman extended a helpful hand towards him, high cheekbones flushed and the brilliant shade of pink fancied her, as she flicked the few strands of blond hair tussled by the fall.

"I am, truly sorry." Her thick French accent, soft spoken and benevolent.

He felt a slight tug on his fingers...and realized he still held the clasp the young lady offered earlier, and immediately released.

"Uhhh...I didn't realize."

Upright, he smoothed down wrinkled pant legs and tightened his coat. His cheeks matched hers in a rather vibrant display of humiliation. Adam's jaw tensed, as he found himself once again drawn into subdued green eyes, same as before, only tranquil and forgiving. The initial shock of excitement gone and replaced with muted overtones. Tall, slender, but extremely well proportioned, all adjectives he found quite intimidating under the circumstances, as she tucked the wispy locks behind her shoulders.

"Thank you, but, it seems this apology should be coming from my direction. I..." and he stumbled over his words "I'm not usually in the habit of being so distracted. Here, let me help you collect these" as he bent over and began retrieving the scattered pieces of her personal luggage.

"I do apologize, I should have paid more attention to where I was going."

"No...no...it twas my fault" as she leaned down as well. Each picking up the residue of their confrontation, he stooped for the small black accessory bag to her left, and lifted to offer the piece. Unexpectedly, again pain, roused by a simultaneous 'smack' hitting the air as foreheads collided. He raised straightway, the new pangs surging after the original onslaught.

"Ough" the sentiment echoed between the two of them, he glanced in her direction. He actually found the whole botchery rather amusing as he cast a witty grin her way and laughed at the foibles of their predicament.

"Well, I guess that's one way...how you say? To break the ice,...uh...that is what they say in America is it not" Glossy lips parted to reveal gleaming white teeth, as both corners of her mouth curved into a wide grin. The attractive smile only served to draw attention to the enchanting creases in her skin, which dimpled lightly below her cheeks. She chortled, seeming amused over her little joke and he added...

"That was smashing...literally." laughing as each clung to their respective foreheads rubbing the hurt away.

"But really Monsieur, it is my fault, I put my luggage down only for a moment to check an address and unfortunately, well...you know thee rest."

"New in town" He changed the subject away from the initial calamity.

"Oui, I mean yes. I am new to Seacouver and the USA as well."

"Paris" He said with a grin.

"Oh yes, do you know Paris"

The tall lean immortal tentative, and restrained, wasn't sure how he should reply to the question, his usual self surfaced, trusting no one and only expecting the same in return.

"I have...been to Paris, a time or two." he replied "Quite enjoyed it."

He hedged, that was not a lie...but the conscience that he fought so desperately to lose throughout the centuries pricked, and it bothered him. He never really worried about lying...as his feelings gave way to thought; that blasted Scot, he must be rubbing off on me.

"May I help you with your bags." he offered.

"No, no thank you. I was just going to hail a cab." He stood silently, as she fumbled to retrieve her purse.

"Here, let me...hold these" releasing the other items from her hands, casually taking note of the bare forefinger on her left extremity. Adam stepped off the curb.

"Please let me do that after all this trouble, hailing a taxi is the least I can do" waving down an oncoming cab with his free hand. He turned and gave a purposeful yet innocent smile.

"You know..." as he relinquished the smaller items and picked up her bags. "I don't even know your name" he questioned; now trying to give her the full 'Methos Suave' approach.

"It is Stephanie, but my friends and family call me, Steph."

"Steph then, by any chance might you be interested in 'the Blues ' ?"

"Oh oui, yes, it is one of my favorites." Adam recognized the inquisitive raise in her brow.

"Since you are new in town, would you entertain an invitation?" and he stared deep into her meadowy eyes for recognition. "I know a great place for Blues, and I'm going. I'd consider it my pleasure, if you would allow me," and he paused briefly. "to escort you to the best little Blues Bar in Seacouver. This evening...I mean, if you have no prior commitments for Valentine's Day?" He shifted his weight and tried to control the odd sensation as his stomach muscles contracted.

"It would be nice to go out...although..." she hesitated, and he picked up on it intuitively, mustering his courage back where it belonged.

"Think of it as a payback for all the chaos I've caused." as he lifted her luggage into the trunk, opened the rear door and held out a hand allowing the young woman to slide gracefully into the cab.

"I do not want to hurt your feelings, but...uh...I am unsure, how you say, a little awkward" as she looked up, and he glanced down at her sheepish grin.

"Well, what...I am trying to say is just this, I am afraid I do not know you well Monsieur, do you think it possible for us to meet at this best little Blues bar in Seacouver? Adam wiped a palm across his mouth and gave a little chuckle underneath.

"To tell you the truth I wouldn't trust me either; in fact, I think I'd react, exactly the same." He reached low into his coat pocket. "Here is a card", and he handed her one of few Joe spared him. "The address is towards the bottom", he mused, I knew these little babies might come in handy one day.

"I'll meet you there, around eightish" Bending his head, as he gazed from above the door, she nodded, and he pushed it shut.

Quickly rolling down the window she said...

"Eight then, I will be there."

Adam caught the glaring eyes and continual glances from the cabbie who finally found his mouth.

"Look Mac...the meters runnin."

"Pardon me...but my name's not Mac, and I don't appreciate the insinuation." as he turned to go.

"Wait...wait...I do not even know your name" she smiled.

"Adam...Adam Pierson." as he gave a flick of the wrist and a half wave of goodbye, one step onto the cement and he blended quickly, fading into the crowd...his mind swept away in the moment.

I wonder...I think it's the orange roses that mean 'fascination', a single one will do. While he looked for that little chocolate shop that everyone raved about, he knew it was close. This lack of concentration had to stop, only confirming his original speculations, plus, and added to his list 'Valentine's Day is definitely bad for your health ', and he turned to check his back.

"I don't know why I do this to myself," he muttered "but, there must be some way to blame it on that irritating Scot."

The End...

Disclaimer: The character of Methos, and the Scot and Highlander (Duncan MacLeod) belong to the Davis/Panzer Productions Inc. and any subsidiaries. The character Stephanie and plot is my own. Written for; the soul purpose of the enjoyment of readers, and not for any profit or monetary gain.