This is a Highlander: the Series fanfiction, third in a series featuring the same character. If you have not read the first two stories, it might be well for you to go read those first. First is Flood of Passion and the second is The Barman, the Thieves and the Lover.

This and the two preceding stories are romances, but they are ADULT in content, for loving heterosexual sex. If you are under legal age or are offended by graphic descriptions of sex, please read no further.

Enemies, Friends and Lovers

by Jette Goldie

"Okay, sweetheart, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon then." Joe Dawson put down the phone handset with a resigned air and a sigh.

MacLeod and Methos exchanged glances as their friend turned back to face them.

MacLeod cleared his throat. "Was that Jacqui? How is she getting on with her visa extension?"

The Watcher shook his head. "Not good. If she doesn't get an answer by the end of the week, she'll have to book her flight home."

Methos frowned. "What is the problem? It's not usually this difficult to get an extension for a British citizen."

"There are a few problems - but the main one is her passport," Joe explained, "or rather her lack of one. If you remember it is currently under three tons of rock at the bottom of a newly formed lake."

The two Immortals nodded. "Her consulate got her a replacement, didn't they?" Methos enquired.

"A temporary one," Joe confirmed. "It would be adequate to get her back to the United Kingdom without any problems, where she could get a new full passport issued. However, it is causing headaches with the Immigration department."

"Can't, uh, your people, help her out?" asked the Highlander.

The mortal grimaced. "I had hoped so - but I was informed - and not politely either - that helping my love life was not the prime reason for the Watchers' existence."

MacLeod frowned. "So what will you do? If she has to go home, I mean?"

"See her off - then book a trip to the UK myself," was the reply.

Methos smiled into his beer, a wicked twinkle in his eye. "You know, there is an easy way to get her residency," he suggested helpfully. "Marry the girl."

"Don't think I haven't considered it," Dawson replied seriously.

"I was kidding!"

"I wasn't."

"You are serious, aren't you?" realised MacLeod. "Have you asked her?"

Dawson shook his head. "Not yet. I don't know how she would react - it's too early really, after what she went through with her last boyfriend; but I'm still considering it as a last resort."

Methos shook his head, laughing. "Well, don't go getting down on one knee yet, Joe. MacLeod and I will see what we can do later, when we get back from the TV studio. Coming, Mac?"

MacLeod chuckled. "I wouldn't miss this. The world's oldest Immortal making a fool of himself on a TV game show."

Early the following afternoon, just after the lunchtime shift at the bar was finished Joe Dawson let himself into Jacqui's apartment.

It was a muggy day. There was a hint of thunder in the air. Exhausted, the woman lay on top of the bed covers, her hair slightly damp from the shower, dressed only in a thin cotton robe and a sleep mask.

Gently he brushed a tousled strand of hair from her cheek. She didn't wake at his touch and he smelled the sweet, slightly peppermint scent of the aromatherapy oil that the mask had been treated with.

He surveyed the litter of bottles on the bedside cabinet. Smiling, he selected a bottle of ready mixed massage oil from the array of essential oils and seated himself on the end of the bed, drawing her bare feet onto his lap.

Jacqui stirred at the slow gentle pressure of his thumbs on the soles of her feet and the stretching, teasing, pulling on her toes. She groaned appreciatively as he circled the bone of her ankle with firm strokes.

Without removing her mask, she murmured, "I do hope that is you, Joseph Dawson; because if the local foot fetishist has broken into my flat and is turning his perverted attentions to my tootsies, I'll have you know that it feels too good to tell him to stop."

In reply, Joe merely chuckled and kissed her toes.

"Oh, definitely the local pervert," she murmured throatily.

He chuckled again, and kissed the sole of her right foot.

Jacqui giggled as his beard tickled the sensitive skin. "Want to move those kisses up here?" she asked.

"I think I may," he replied. "Give me a moment. No - don't do that," he told her, as she began to remove the sleep mask. "We perverts prefer to be anonymous."

Jacqui laughed and lay back on her pillow, leaving the mask in place.

It took him but a moment to divest himself of his clothing and other encumbrances and join her on the bed.

He slipped one hand inside the front of her robe, sliding it from the curve of her waist up to her breast. She sighed and arched into his touch.

"That feels so good," she murmured.

"Bad morning?" he asked.

"Long morning," she replied. "Long and infuriating. I spent most of it standing in line to see people who were 'the only ones who could help' - only to find out that they weren't in and wouldn't be back today." She sighed again, this time in remembered frustration.

He kissed her gently on the lips. "I know just the cure for that," he told her.

Propping himself on one elbow, Joe loosened the tie-belt of the robe and spread it wide. With the fingertips of one hand he caressed her skin with feather-light touches, barely grazing the skin and slowly describing gentle circles, spiralling outwards, covering every inch of her body.

Each time his fingers brushed new areas of skin unsensitised to his touch she shivered deliciously. That she could not see or predict where he would next touch made it maddeningly piquant. Tantalising. Exciting.

Once again she started to remove her blindfold, wanting to take a more active part in this, to return the pleasure given to her.

"Oh no you don't," Joe chuckled. "This is just for you - and to make sure you enjoy it properly, I have an idea."

He removed the soft tie belt from her robe and wound it lightly in a figure of eight around her wrists, before securing it to the upright bars of the headboard. Then he returned to his earlier endeavours.

Jacqui groaned aloud when he added the subtle touch of his lips. The fine/rough hair of his beard brushed her now sensitised skin. Starting at her throat and working downwards; down the curve of the breast, down the planes of her ribcage, and into the hollow of her navel, over the gentle mound of her belly then down finally to the hidden valley of her sex.

He had just started to suckle at the sweetness there when there was a loud knocking at the front door.

"Jacqui? Jacqui, are you in?"

Jacqui squeaked in alarm. "It's Adam!" she exclaimed. Joe muttered something unintelligible into the bedclothes.

"Ignore him," he suggested.

"He has a key to this flat," she reminded him. "If I don't answer he may let himself in."

"He'd better not," growled her lover darkly. He thought of swords and vulnerable, skinny old necks.

A scratching at the door lock suggested that this was exactly what 'Adam' was about to do.

"I had better see what he wants, Joe. Untie me, please."

He sighed and loosened one end of the fabric belt so that she could slip her hands out of its coils, then he lay back in the bed while she made her way to the door.

Adam was standing just inside the entrance hall when Jacqui reached the door. He noted that she was wearing a very thin robe and holding it closed with one hand. The tie belt seemed to be looped around one wrist and trailing free behind her. He recognised the situation, somewhat.

"I take it Joe is here?" he asked. "I need you to give him a message for me."

"I'll get him for you."

"No, no, don't bother. Just give him this message. Tell him something has come up and I'm leaving town. Now. This afternoon. For my health. Tell him it involves someone with a long lifeline and an even longer memory. Tell him he shouldn't believe everything he hears - that some things are true, but there is more to them than can be seen at first."

She frowned. His cryptic message made no sense to her. "Why don't you tell him yourself?" she asked. Perhaps his riddles would mean something to Joe.

He shook his head. "No, it's better this way. This way when MacLeod asks, he can honestly say he hasn't seen me."

"Isn't MacLeod your friend?"

"I doubt it anymore," he sighed, "and I'm afraid Joe may not want me as one after he hears what Mac has to say. Goodbye, Jacqui. I had intended to help you with your visa problem but I'm afraid you will have to manage without me."

That sounded very final. "Adam?" she ventured.

He touched a finger to her lips and kissed her cheek. "No questions," he told her. Then he left.

When she returned to the main room, Dawson was gathering his clothes together and dressing hurriedly.

"Did you hear that?" she asked. Joe nodded.

"Why is he being so mysterious?"

Joe shrugged and continued to dress himself.

"Where are you going?"

"To the bar. I've a feeling Mac will be there soon. I don't know what is going on, but perhaps MacLeod will give me a straight answer."

"I'm coming with you," she decided.

He shook his head. "No, not this time."

Jacqui sat alone in her apartment and pondered her relationship with Joe Dawson; the complete and utter absurdity of it.

What did she know of this man? She'd met him a bare two months ago and he'd turned her world upside down. Literally - they met in an earthquake.

Compelled to climb for their lives, they'd clung together in an enforced intimacy. The attraction they had both felt almost from the first moment they met had been heightened and sharpened by mutual danger.

She was a naturally cautious person, perhaps too cautious, and she had almost let that caution rob her of the chance to explore the limits of the attraction. Almost. At moments like this she wondered if perhaps her first instinct to caution was right.

It was the secrets that she couldn't bear. Joe seemed a very 'open' sort of guy, but he had secrets. Secrets that in some way seemed to concern his two friends. Secrets and mysteries that began back in that earthquake ridden valley when MacLeod was washed away in the flash flood. Joe and Adam had been most insistent that the police and other authorities not be told about him and no search conducted. She'd been sure that the dark-haired man was dead, yet he'd walked into Joe's bar unscathed and seemingly unruffled. She wasn't sure if she liked Duncan MacLeod.

Then there was Adam. Adam who was also called 'Methos', when they didn't think she could overhear them. When she had needed a place to stay, Adam had found this flat that he told her belonged to a neighbour and asked her to take care of it. It didn't - he was her landlord. He owned the whole building and despite his unassuming appearance seemed to be richer than Creosus.

Then when she and Joe had fought and she had been ready to fly home there had been the mysterious thefts of her passport, airline tickets and car. Thefts she now suspected had been arranged just to keep her in town so that she and Joe would make up.

Now this latest mystery. Adam comes knocking on her door, utters cryptic riddles about leaving town 'for his health' and hints that he and MacLeod might no longer be friends - and Joe immediately leaves her bed and heads off to meet MacLeod, forbidding her to follow him. And.had that been blood on Adam's sweater?

Maybe she should just get out of town now, before any more weirdness happened.

"Adam?"

Adam Pierson froze on the stairway, the box of books in his arms. It was late afternoon; the blue of the sky outside the open doorway was deepening to lavender.

"Jacqui, hi. I'm in a bit of a rush." He seemed nervous.

Jacqui nodded. "So I see. You meant it about moving out. Can I help? I'm going to miss you."

He seemed to relax slightly, and nodded. "There's another couple of boxes just behind the apartment door. The door isn't locked."

"I'll go get them then," she suggested.

She found the boxes just inside the door as he said. Each was about the size of a box of photocopy paper and filled with loose papers and notebooks. She could see the text on some of the loose pages, but she couldn't read it. It seemed to be a form of Ancient Greek - or something. She'd had a year or two of Latin and Greek at school, but this was beyond anything she'd learned.

She shook her head. What was she doing, trying to read Adam's private papers this way? She should just get a move on, take the box down to his car, and let him go. Perhaps with him gone, her own choices would be simpler.

Jacqui saw the black thunderbird as it drew into the parking lot. She heard the slam of the car door as MacLeod stormed his way across the lot to confront his friend. She froze where she was, just inside the large glass entrance doors of the apartment building. Since her arms were full, she had just half turned to shove it open a few inches with her hip. She stood still, willing the man not to notice her.

Why she hesitated, she didn't know. MacLeod was Joe's friend. He was Adam's friend. Yet, she was not altogether sure she liked him.

Perhaps it was her natural timidity around men, especially strongly masculine ones. He was handsome - very handsome - gracious, and had certainly never been less than charming to her. Indeed she owed him her life, since it had been his plan to escape from that earthquake-riven valley that had saved them all. But there was an intensity to him, an aura about him, which scared her. He was like the black panther in the cage at the zoo - sleek, beautiful, its glossy coat inviting - even challenging - the onlooker to touch and stroke, feel the silky softness of the fur.

Yet it would be a very unwise person who touched the panther carelessly. That was how she felt about MacLeod.

The tall dark man stalked towards his younger friend. Jacqui strained to hear what was said, but they were too far from her and their voices pitched too low - however their body language was expressive indeed.

MacLeod accused, confronted, demanded. Adam side-stepped, conciliated, avoided. Finally Mac grabbed the younger man shoved him against the side of the car. There was fury in his eyes as he demanded an answer - any answer, rather than evasions. Adam faced his accuser squarely. Whatever his reply, it seemed to be in the affirmative.

It wasn't the answer MacLeod really wanted to hear. Answered and disappointed, he nodded slowly and turned away.

Suddenly Adam changed modes. Now he was the aggressor, MacLeod his target. There was fury in his face as he caught the taller man by his lapels and threw him hard against the side of the car.

"No, it is NOT enough!" She heard that.

MacLeod listened, horror on his face, hysteria bubbling below the surface of his outward calm.

Jacqui strained to overhear what distressed the man so.

".I killed TEN THOUSAND.."

By the expression on MacLeod's face she could tell that he wasn't talking about exterminating termites; but Adam continued speaking, his manner almost gleeful.

".and I ENJOYED it."

Whatever this was about, it was too much for MacLeod. Mirroring the younger man's earlier actions, he slammed Pierson against the car and held him there. Pierson laughed, maniacally and went on with his recitation.

MacLeod drew back in disgust. "We're through," he announced. Pierson nodded agreement and the two withdrew to their own vehicles, where they each tossed their coats into the passenger seat with more energy than the act needed.

It was a few minutes before Methos realised that the preceding confrontation must have been witnessed. Jacqui stood just inside the plate glass entranceway, the box of papers still in her arms.

Sighing, he made his way across to speak to her. Whatever damage had been done, he should try to put it right before he left.

Jacqui stepped back a pace or two as he approached and regarded him cautiously.

"You can't have heard much of that," he observed. She shook her head.

"But probably just enough to confuse the hell out of you." She nodded. He sighed and took the box of papers from her arms, placing it on the floor. Then he captured her hands in his before she could flee, as she seemed poised to.

"You said you killed thousands," she accused. "You said you enjoyed it."

He winced. "You heard that? You have good ears."

"I have good ears and I listen a lot," she agreed. "I know I'm not the best judge of people around - look at what happened with Ben, for example - but I thought I understood you better than that. What ARE you, Adam? A war criminal? A mercenary? A mass murderer?"

"I told MacLeod what he wanted to hear."

"I don't think he wanted to hear THAT!" she exclaimed. "I don't think I wanted to hear it either."

"He wanted the truth. Sometimes the truth is not as we would like it to be - but MacLeod is not the kind to be happy with a kind lie. Neither are you, really."

She frowned, unhappily. "So what happens now?" she asked.

"Now I leave town."

"And MacLeod? Does he go to the police? INTERPOL? The UN? Are you wanted for your crimes? What happens to me?"

The Immortal shook his head. "I'm not wanted - my crimes were all too long ago; and MacLeod will prefer to come after me himself. You? You go back inside and you try to forget what you heard here."

The woman shook her head. "I don't think I can, Adam. I don't think I will ever forget how you looked out there."

Stricken, Methos pulled her, unwilling, into his arms, where he held her gently. "Jacqui, Jacqui," he murmured "I would never have wished this to happen. I've become fond of you. I wanted to help you and Joe get together. You've been so good for him. Joe is my friend and you have become my friend. It's not often that I make new friends, good friends. Maybe once a century, if I'm lucky."

Jacqui shivered in the circle of his arms.

He tilted her face up to look him in the eyes. "Maybe I can help you after all," he said. "Talk to Joe, Jacqui. Go to him and tell him that Methos sent you - remember to say 'Methos'."

"Methos," she whispered. "I've heard Joe and MacLeod call you that, when you all thought I couldn't hear. I thought it was a nickname."

"Ah?" he looked surprised. "I didn't realise that. Even better - no, it's not a nickname. It's as much my real name as any other - more so than 'Adam Pierson'. Tell Joe that Methos said that he should tell you everything. Tell him that someone who can stand in full view of both MacLeod and I while we talked - while we had that talk .well, that is a talent that should not be wasted." He kissed her tenderly on the forehead and let her go.

"Now I had better finish packing and get on my way," he told her. "It would probably be best if you stayed inside for a while - MacLeod is not the only person who may come looking for me and you could be in danger."

Dawson pondered the mysterious message from Methos on his answering machine as he made his way up the stairway to Jacqui's apartment.

The British woman was sitting on the couch when he let himself in, knees drawn up to her chin, hugging her legs. She looked confused and very unhappy.

"Jacqui?"

"Joe?" she ran to hug him and he wrapped her in his arms.

"I got a strange message from Adam," he informed her, stroking her hair. "He seemed to think we needed to talk, you and I."

"He told me to call him Methos," she replied. "He was saying some very strange things to MacLeod - and then he said some even stranger things to me."

He held her at arm's length to look her in the eye. "How strange?" That the oldest immortal had given her his true name was strange enough - but the last few days some very odd things had been happening.

She frowned. "Before I tell you, Joe, you must promise to tell me the truth. He said that you should tell me everything."

Joe considered. "I promise," he agreed at last.

She nodded. "All right. First, Adam is a murderer - he admitted it to MacLeod and he more or less admitted it to me. I need to know if you knew that. You've kept secrets from me - I need to know if that was one of them?"

He shook his head. "No, I didn't know. I've known Adam for several years - I've known he was Methos for about two years; but no one really knew anything about Methos' past until Cassandra showed up."

"Who is Cassandra?"

He smiled wryly. "An old friend of MacLeod's." That was an understatement. While he understood intellectually that Immortals never showed their true age, it had still been a shock to realise that the beautiful 'young' woman standing in front of him was really over 3,000 years old.

"Then explain this - how can his crimes be 'too long ago for him to be wanted'? There's no statute of limitations on murder, is there? Especially mass murder. And how can he 'only make new friends every century or so'?"

This was going to take a while. He took her by the hand and led her back to the couch.

Jacqui listened in silence for some time, then shook her head. "This all sounds pretty unbelievable, Joe. Adam is 5,000 years old, MacLeod is over 400 - how old are you supposed to be?"

Joe gave a short huff of laughter. "Exactly as old as I look - well, maybe a bit younger; a tendency to early grey hair runs in my family. I'm as mortal as you are, Jacqui. I'm a Watcher." He started to unbutton his left shirt cuff, exposing a patch of pink, recently healed skin there - and then stopped with a shrug.

"A Watcher? And that is?"

"We watch, we record for posterity. We're not supposed to get involved and Immortals are not supposed to know about us, but MacLeod found me several years ago and Methos.well, he's a special case, since he's been one of us for about ten years."

"You watch what? Record what?"

"Them - the Immortals. We record their actions, their lives, their battles and their deaths."

"In secret."

"In secret," he agreed. "For future generations."

"Then why are you telling me?"

He dipped his head as he replied. "Because there should be no secrets between us, because Methos wanted you to know and because.Jacqui, I think you should join the Watchers."

"Why do I have to go to Geneva?"

"Because that is where the training academy is. It won't be for long and meanwhile we can get your passport and other papers sorted out."

She frowned. "I'll miss you."

He hugged her tight. "I'll miss you too. Perhaps now that MacLeod is in Europe I can come across and join you for a while."

"He's definitely there?"

He nodded. "He and Cassandra left this morning for Rumania. I don't have to follow them - Cassandra's Watcher will do that. Plus H.Q. know that MacLeod and I are friends and they know that he keeps me updated - but he can contact me in Geneva or Paris just as easily." He paused and then frowned before continuing, "And it might be a good idea for me to pay a visit to Paris HQ soon anyway. Cassandra's Watcher overheard her speaking to Adam - he's busted as Methos. I may have to do some fast talking to explain how I didn't find that out myself."

She sighed. "Poor Adam. Will you tell them? I know he was everything this Cassandra person says he was - but somehow I don't think he is now. I wish MacLeod didn't have to find him."

He shrugged but his eyes were worried. "Methos is a survivor - he's not lived 5,000 years by being careless - but MacLeod is stubborn enough to keep hunting till he finds him. I only hope that when he does, he doesn't let his anger rule him."

Sensing his concern, she wrapped her arms around him, comfortingly. "Oh Joe, they're both your friends. How awful for you. I don't know MacLeod as well as I know Adam - though obviously I don't know him as well as I thought - but I do know that he's a good man. Not necessarily a comfortable man to be around, but a good one. Honourable."

"Mac will do the right thing," he assured her - or was it himself he was assuring?

"Of course he will," she agreed. "Come to bed, Joe. I need you right now, since we will soon be thousands of miles apart - and you need to stop worrying about people who will probably outlive us both."

They kissed tenderly and disrobed slowly, impressing every detail of each other's features and form into their memories for future reference.

By the flickering light of a dozen candles and the flames of an open fire, touch was as important as sight. Skin was gilded to shades of bronze and gold, hair took hints of honey and copper. Shadows slid like silk into the hollows between their bodies.

Jacqui drank hungrily of the sight of him. She pressed her body's length against his and twined her legs around his thighs, melding them against each other as they kissed long and deep.

Joe drew back and stroked her hair away from her face. His fingers caressed her temples, grazing lightly the outline of her face and brushed softly down the column of her throat. He cupped her face gently between his hands and they kissed again.

Their bodies' rhythms were perfectly matched by now. By unspoken agreement, Joe lay between her thighs, his body's weight balanced on his strong arms, and slid inside her warmth. Jacqui locked her legs around him and they began to move in unison.

Tenderly, frantically, they made love. His thrusts were long, slow and deep, her counter thrusts urgent and longing. Her hands fluttered across his torso, stroking, caressing, remembering, her tongue licked salty sweat, her lips suckled at his nipples till he could stand no more and screamed his surrender into her womb. In that moment, she screamed her own acceptance of him.

They made love several more times that night and lay together in the morning light.

Two days later Joe saw the Watchers' newest recruit aboard a plane to London, England. In her hand was clutched a second ticket, from London to Geneva.

"Tim from the London office will meet you at Heathrow," he instructed her. "He's arranged somewhere for you to stay while you get your replacement passport, which should about a week."

"And you'll come visit me in Geneva?"

"When I can. When you're at the academy you'll be staying in one of our Chapter Houses - no privacy there in the Trainee quarters."

"Like being back at University in a student dorm?"

He grinned. "A bit - but don't worry, you won't be the only 'mature student'. People join us from all walks of life and all ages."

She sighed and caught his hand. "I'll miss you - I'll look for you."

He pulled her close and kissed her. "I'll miss you too. I'll be there as soon as MacLeod contacts me and lets me know where he is and where he is going to be."

"Flight BA549 to London, Heathrow is now available for general boarding at Gate 18"

"That's your flight."

"I know."

"Last call for flight BA549 to London, Heathrow."

"I'll walk you to the gate."

The End for now.

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