Methos demanded a public acknowledgement that he was in no way responsible for any part of Coming Home. There. Happy now?

<It's a start.>

Get back here!

<I was just going to...>

Sit!

<Jeez...what's got your panties in a wad?>

Shut up, Methos. Just put your bony butt in that chair and tell me where your partner in crime is.

<I have no idea to whom you are referring.>

Bullshit! Where's Duncan?

<Where he always is. Hiding in the closet.>

I checked the closet. Kronos, Byron, and the goat. No Duncan.

<Do you blame him? That damn goat...>

Shut up. From now on, you speak only when spoken to.

<I beg your pardon?>

Don't pull that offended innocent act with me. Did you think I wouldn't notice?

<I have no idea what you're raving about.>

Uh-huh. Right. Does this little piece of purple prose sound familiar? "Crush you against my heart, tighter and tighter until you know that you'll never take another breath that doesn't carry my scent into your soul."

<"Carry my scent into your soul?" It sounds like a bad cooking odor. What the hell is *that*? Suze, do you feel all right? Are you running a fever?>

Okay, how about this one? "It doesn't have to hurt, Methos. I won't let it hurt. Never again."

<Bloody hell! What *is* this crap? Are you doing another beta? Can I help?>

You really *don't* recognize this, do you?

<Am I supposed to?>

Sorry. I thought you wrote it.

<Me? Write sentimental pap like that? I am deeply offended that you would even *think* that I...>

I said I was sorry, Methos!

<I need a beer.>

Methos, it's not even noon.

<So?>

Bring me one, too.

<Where *did* this crap come from?>

I have no idea. But it went out last night from this computer, with my name on it.

<You're joking! Let me see.>

Read it and weep. I almost did.

<Oh dear God. Look at *this* bit: "We're going to lock the world outside, and I'm going to spend as long as it takes to convince you that one moment can be forever.">

Kind of makes your stomach hurt, doesn't it?

<'Hurt' isn't the word I'd use. 'Revolt' might be closer.>

So, where do you suppose it came from?

<What is it supposed to be?>

Uh...is that important?

<It might give us a clue.>

It's supposed to be your response to Amanda's little adventure in phone sex.

<My response...? Someone said *I* was responsible for this? Who in this place hates me enough to... Kronos! I'll kill him! Does he really think that a measly thousand years at the bottom of a well justifies *this* kind of character assassination?>

Hey, this was *my* reputation he was fooling with too!

<How do you want to handle it?>

Killing's too good for him. Let's tear him up into little pieces and feed him to the damn goat.

<I love it when you get blood-thirsty. It makes me hot.>

Stifle it, Duncan's not here. Would Kronos regenerate from being goat-shit?

<Eventually, if we're careful where we tear him. It'll hurt like hell though.>

Do you care?

<What do you think?>

What I think is that we're going to have to be very careful how we approach this. We'll have to catch him with his guard down.

<So we wait till he's not looking, sneak up on him, and...BAM! Goat kibble!>

Sounds like we've got a plan.

<Yes, but a nasty little thought just occurred to me.>

Just one? You're slipping.

<Aren't we allies here?>

Sorry. Bad habit. What nasty little thought?

<As purple as this is, as over-the-top as it is, as stomach- wrenchingly maudlin as it is-- I just don't think Kronos could have done it without help.>

Shit. You've got a point. Old Leather Butt isn't exactly over- flowing with hearts and flowers romance, is he? That means he's got a co-conspirator somewhere.

<Worse. It means he's got a co-conspirator *here*. We've been clutching a snake to our bosoms. Nurturing a viper in our midst. Right under our noses. And don't say it.>

I won't, but it's really hard. And don't say *that* either.

<We're even. Can we get back to this...this...>

Fulsome piece of shit?

<That'll do.>

So--who do you think it was?

<Amanda?>

I don't think so, it's not her style.

<Her *style*? Amanda has a *style*?>

Of course she does. If Mander's had written it there would be more sex. A *lot* more sex.

<True. She *is* a delightfully over-sexed little piece of fluff, isn't she?>

Not quite the way I would have phrased it, but essentially correct. Byron?

<Well, it is more his style, but he's been unconscious for the last three days.>

Are you sure? Couldn't he be faking it?

<The goat ate the crotch out of his pants last night. I don't think even Byron could fake being unconscious through that little experience.>

Shit. I *really* wanted it to be Byron.

<Why? What have you got against Byron?>

Besides the goat? Methos, think about it. It wasn't me, it wasn't you, it wasn't Amanda, it wasn't Byron. Who does that leave on the short list?

<No. Impossible.>

Methos...

<NO! Absolutely not! Maybe it was a wandering Blair Muse. Have you checked with Zen and nan? Is their's still in his cage?>

Meow.

<Did you ask?>

Yes. He's tucked up with Jim, sleeping soundly. They've been working him hard the last few days.

<What about Bone's Blair Muse? Not that I'm admitting to any culpability, but he *may* think he has a tiny little reason to be pissed at me.>

There were no butter stains on the keyboard, Methos.

<Lum's Invisible Methos Muse?>

Why would *he* be pissed at you? You're reaching, Methos. Admit it. We both know who it had to be.

<No. He wouldn't do that to me. Besides, I haven't pissed him off in weeks!>

Maybe he wasn't pissed. Have you considered the outrageous idea that...

<That what?>

Well, Duncan *is* awfully romantic, he may have been trying to court you again.

<Oh God.>

Frightening, isn't it?

<Bloody hell!>

And Kronos may not have had anything to do with it at all.

<Can I feed him to the goat anyway?>

What for?

<I have an overwhelming desire to hurt someone. It would make me feel a *lot* better.>

And what are you going to do about Duncan?

<Shit. What gets into him? Why does he *do* these things to me? What have I ever done to him?>

You're kidding, right? Do you want the whole unexpurgated list or the Reader's Digest Condensed version?

<Lately. What have I done to him *lately*?>

Maybe that's the problem.

<You have an idea, don't you?>

How did you know?

<I can hear the gerbil wheels in your brain spinning. What are you thinking?>

Well, you said it yourself-- you haven't pissed him off in weeks. Duncan's not used to you being nice to him for that long at one stretch. He may think you don't care enough to get mad at him anymore.

<That's insane. It makes no sense. It's irrational. It's...pure Duncan logic.>

The pieces are starting to fall into place, aren't they? I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but it looks like you need to pick a fight with Kiltboy.

<And I have your permission for this exercise in romantic- terrorism?>

And my blessing. Just keep it off the carpets. And let me know when you get to the good part.

<The good part?>

Make-up sex, Methos. You get the lube, I'll bring the keyboard.

<What should I pick a fight about?>

You're kidding. Aren't you going to fight about his oh-too-public love letter?

<Of course not! I have to pick something innocuous. It would never do to give him the real reason.>

You're going to have to explain that one to me.

<Suze, Suze, haven't I taught you *anything*? Think about it! Let him know how embarrassing that was? So he can humiliate me in public whenever I piss him off? Or whenever he wants something from me? Why would I give him that kind of ammunition?>

He was right you know.

<About what?>

You *don't* have any romance in your soul.

<Of course I do! I'm *very* romantic, in my own unique way. I'm going to go to a lot of trouble to pick a fight with him, aren't I? If that's not romantic, I don't know what is!>

Methos...

<What?>

Never mind.
 
 

The End

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