"Hey, Rich. Joe’s not here right now. Said he’ll be back in a few hours."

"Oh. Hey can I just crash in the back for a while?"

"Yeah. You know the way."

"Nope, not anymore, I don’t. I’m totally lost," Richie muttered as he went into Joe’s office. Stretching out on the soft tan doeskin couch, Richie fell fast asleep.

* * *

Long fingered hands carried a small glass bowl. Peering through the veil of a dream, Richie watched, as he always did. Richie saw him, Methos, create a dish. He took the pears and rolled them in a mixture of sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. He lay them in a glass pan and turned on the heat. Methos walked over the refrigerator to get some heavy cream. Pouring it into a pan, he dipped his finger into it. Pulling out a cream coated finger, Methos licked around and around til there was no more left on his finger. Turning on the heat, Methos got out some pear juice and added it. Sitting down at a table, he took the leftover fresh pears to eat.

Laying the tip of one on his lips, he gently mouthed it before using that long tongue to pull it into the warm cavern of his mouth. Bringing his teeth down, he bit through the pear with a crisp sound.

Standing once more, he removed the pan of pears from the oven. After straining them, he lay them in a shallow serving dish. Carefully he stirred the strained juices into the cream and left it to thicken. Pouring the cream over the pears. then carefully licking up any spilled cream, Methos placed them on the table and waited.

Slowly, the announcing song of an Immortal made its presence known on Methos' face.

Methos eyes rose. The door opened to admit a young man with curly strawberry hair "Bout time you made it, Brat. If you eat all your dinner, then you get dessert. They’re candied pears."

His voice rumbled but Richie could not hear the words.

"Oh no, dear brat, for dessert you get a 5,000 year old dish."

Watching the strawberry stranger flirt with Methos, the dreamer felt jealous, and quite ready to get up and challenge the newly arrived Immortal. But, the oblivious stranger takes off his jacket and tosses it to the side. He tosses his NAVY blue jacket with bright GREEN sleeves. Now, a lot of people may have curly strawberry blond hair, but, how many of them would dare to wear this jacket? Only one, and that one is…

BAM!

* * *

"Hey, who’re you?"

"Hello, Adam Pierson. Duncan MacLeod asked me to come check up on Richie."

"Oh, yeah. Well Richie seemed sorta out of it, so I thought MacLeod could come get him."

"MacLeod had a class to teach and he wanted me to get Richie to come back to the loft. There’s one problem though."

"Oh?"

"The door."

"The door?"

"Is locked."

"Oh! Ok, I got keys somewhere. Just give me a moment."

"Sure." >>Damn MacLeod’s brat. Mac said he didn’t tell him. So how did he know my name? Maybe it’s that Watcher of his.<<

From inside the room came a loud groan. Soon the door opened, and a barely awake tousled red head plowed into Methos’ chest.

"Wha?"

"Well, hello, brat. MacLeod sent me to make sure you’re ok. Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, are you ok, brat?"

"I’m fine, jerk."

"Now now, don’t be like that. What ever will I tell MacLeod?"

"I really don’t care what you tell him."

"Behave, child. Now a question for you, how did…"

"No." Turning to see the Mike, Richie called out. "Later Mike. Tell Joe that I’ll come watch his show tonight."

"Don’t turn away from me, brat."

Walking past Methos, Richie headed out to his bike. With not a word to the stunned old man, Richie roared off.

"Damned brat."

* * *

"So, you talk to Richie yet, Old Timer?"

"I tried. So Mac, do you want to go to a blues club tonight?"

"Ummm, Joe’s? Sure. I can make sure to protect my favorite student from your depredations."

"Mac. I’m wounded. Truly wounded. I only want to know who else knows who I am? Don’t want any loose ends. Oh, and by the way, you’re buying."

"As always. Adam?"

"What?"

"Ever think of just leaving Richie alone?"

"No."

"Ok."

* * *

"Hey, Richie."

"Hi, Joe. Joe, I… umm… need a little help."

"What kind?"

"What can you find out about an Immortal named Methos?

"Methos? Have you met him?"

"I think so."

"Then I suggest you take lessons from him, kid. Methos is the oldest known Immortal. He’s over 4,000 years old."

"Over 5,000 really. So you’re Joe." Adam spoke up unexpectedly.

"Yeah, who are you? >>Ok, ‘ADAM’, we can play it that way. I don’t know you and you don’t know me<<

"Adam Pierson, the resident Methos researcher."

"Glad to meet you, I guess you’ll want to be talking to the kid then, huh?"

"Of course. Why don’t you join me and MacLeod for a drink, Richie?"

"Yeah, Richie go ahead. I’ll bring it over before I go onstage."

"Gee, thanks, Joe."

Richie and Methos walked over to the corner table that MacLeod held for them. Sitting down, Richie turned his back to Methos to talk to Mac.

"Brat, consider this… you don’t know me, you know how long I’ve lived, and you don’t know I won’t stab you in the back but you still turn you back on me? No." Grabbing Richie’s neck, Methos forces Richie to look at him. "Who told you my name? Who else have you told?"

"Methos… Adam. Let him go. Now."

"PHAH!"

"Thanks, Mac." Twisting his neck to work out the kinks, Richie turns to Methos. "No one told me, and only Joe."

"You told Joe that I’m Methos?!"

"No, just that I met him. I guess you really are an old man."

"Richie, how did you know?" Mac questioned gently with the most comical look of puzzlement.

"I just did."

"Brat… who told you?"

"No one."

"Then how?"

Richie’s mumbling to the table may have been informative… to the table, but not to the two men waiting for his answer.

"What was that, child?"

"A dream. For a while, I’d have the same dream over and over and over. Someone would be eating strawberries and cream. And he would take such delight. Always at the end of the dream, I look at him and call him, Methos."

"Tell me have you had any other fruit related erotic dreams?"

GROAN! "I’m outta here."

"No, you’re not. Not until we finish talking."

"We are finished. Later Mac."

Richie pushed past the ever astonished Methos and headed outside to his bike. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at the sky and saw a falling star. Quietly he wished on it. Getting on his bike, he took off home.

* * *

"You know, Mac, your student has some real avoidance issues. Ever thought about counseling?"

"Finish your beer."

"So, are you two going to Paris this year, in the summer?"

"Maybe."

Silently the two men finished their beers and Methos went back to crash on MacLeod couch again and sneak through his address book.

* * *

The next day the itinerant ‘graduate student’ left Seacouver again, but not before dropping off a little invitation.

"Brat,

You are cordially invited to a formal dinner on the Seine.

Black tie is required. Dinner will be served. Dessert will be candied pears.

M