This is the third day I've spent locked away in this office. I've come out for meals, of course, seeing as this wasn't my first house where I could simply have them sent here. Granted, had the option been present, I would be glad to. I've looked through my old journals again, from my mortal years (it is a surprise that I have them at all by now) as well as those from the years of the Republic. I know this does not bode well, for either Methos or his friend. I would feel a bit better if Methos had simply given up the sword, it is not as if he didn't have any others, but I realize it's entirely too late. He will accept the blade back on very certain terms, which I'm sure neither of us really wish to fill.
I should have realized that nothing goes unpunished. Not even anything as indescript as a questional parting. This didn't end when it should have and now there might be casualties. I would end this myself now but I'm hesitant to repeat old battles, especially when I hadn't exactly been on the winning side the first time.
Marcus knocked when he arrived at Methos' apartment. He had left work a bit early to assure that they wouldn't make a long night of it. It seemed a terrible habit they've had to start drinking into the evening and have it last until the very late evening. At least this way, he thought he could avoid such a habit again.
Methos answered the door with a sword in his hand, though having seen Marcus through the peephole he had it down. "I didn't expect to see you for another hour at least."
"I managed to change around my schedule. Did I come at a bad time?" Marcus smiled slightly, waiting more for Methos to let go of his steel than actually back away from the door.
Methos shrugged. "No. But you understand my reaction to an unexpected presence." He slid the sword behind a coat stand near the door and gestured for Marcus to come in.
"I'm sorry, I should have called ahead," Marcus nodded as he stepped into the apartment and removed his coat.
"Don't worry about it." Methos told him, hanging up Marcus' coat for him. "Want anything to drink? I've got wine, water, whatever."
"Wine please. So you've managed to find yourself with rather nagging problems again." Marcus mentioned as he made himself comfortable on Methos' couch.
"I blame you." Methos commented as he went to get wine for himself and Marcus. "You're the one that gave me the sword."
Marcus chuckled, "I wasn't the one who told you to rob another of it, now was I? I honestly thought you past such acts of impulse."
"What can I say, I fell off the wagon." Methos replied. He handed Marcus a glass of wine and sat down, pulling over a sheaf of papers. "This is the information that this Sullivan gave Amanda about me. He's only got my cover, and even that's sketchy, so his detective skills could use some work."
"From what you tell me, I doubt he would have spent the time doing it himself. If he hired someone to take it, wouldn't he simply hire another to do this as well?" He took the papers regarding Methos' cover first, looking through the papers. "Which means he possibly has at least one other looking after you."
"Possibly." Methos admitted. "I have a few friends who are working on making as good a replica as we can make until we figure out how to deal with him. At the very least, it might draw him out to where a challenge would be possible, but I'd like to know who Amanda or I would be facing."
"I certainly hope that works. You think he'll challenge your friend?" Marcus set down the papers and picked up the wine glass.
"No, I think he'd have someone put a bullet in her and take her head. Which is why I'd like him out in the open. Hopefully he'll think she was duped and come after me." Methos sipped his wine and pulled out a small folder of the printed photos from Amanda's camera. "There are only a few decent shots of him, but it's the same man I took the sword from."
"Isn't that a pleasant thought?" Marcus sighed, setting the glass down, "What have you gotten yourself into this time..." Marcus set down the glass, taking some of the photos from Methos to look them over.
"You know, I'd actually have considered giving the sword back once I had a replica made, but he hired an Immortal to steal from me. That means he expects her to take my head." Methos sat back and shook his head. "So of course I'm not handing it over now."
"Of course, what was I thinking?" He flipped through the grainier of the photos, "Well I will give you one thing, he is definitely not Irish." Then he looked over at Methos, "But I suppose it takes one to know one."
Methos grinned. "I told you. At least I know the bloody language."
Marcus laughed again, "Tried to have an in depth conversation in Irish then?"
"No. But if the report he had on me shows anything, it's that he knows nothing about Ireland and thinks the name "Ahearn" is from Wales." Methos chuckled. "So, do you know him, or recognize him?"
"How dare he." Marcus' laughs died off. "No. I don't," he answered rather flatly, setting the photos down. "Can I keep one, in case I find out who might?"
"Be my guest." Methos sighed. "I'd hoped he might have been someone familiar. He swears that the sword is his and he was there when it was forged. Quite frustrating."
"Not everyone knows what they swear they do." Marcus said as he began to stand, "I've forgotten about a previous appointment. I should be leaving."
"Oh." Methos scowled at the pictures then looked up at Marcus. "Well. If I see this guy, I'll let him know that the man who gave me the sword doesn't know him from Adam, shall I?"
"Please. I'll call you in a few days, should I find anything." Marcus moved rather quickly to get his coat.
Methos stood, following him over to the door. "Important appointment?"
"Quite. You know how I hate to be late."
"Mm." Methos nodded and opened the door for Marcus. "I'll call you."
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