A/N: I'd had this up before, but, when I wrote myself into a corner, I took it down to rework it. Some dates/events are fudged for the sake of the story. I also have no idea how often I'll be able to update this or with what frequency (maybe once a month or thereabouts).
An old friend of Adam's comes into town. But why is she really there?
Will all these questions be answered in the story of
Adam and Lilith?
Location: Seacouver, Joe's bar, a winter day that the bar is closed, early 1996
Adam Pierson was in the middle of a bawdy story from his time in Rome, several centuries earlier, as he poured another round of beers. Joe Dawson strummed his guitar. Richie Ryan practised his pool shots. Duncan MacLeod was sitting, enjoying the moment as he took in the sounds around him.
Adam was just getting to the best part. "So I say to the guy, "Hey, it's not my fault your wife has -"
Joe really wanted to hear how it ended, but he knew he would have to wait for it when he saw the other three tense up. Richie eased towards the table where Duncan, and their swords, lay.
Another Immortal was coming.
They noticed that Adam, known to only a few as Methos, the "mythical" oldest Immortal, seemed to be sniffing the air, as though he could discern who this other Immortal was that was approaching.
Apparently, he could, for he grinned ever so briefly before bounding to the door and opening it.
"Adam?" Duncan wasn't sure what was happening, but there was something different about this Buzz.
Adam simply held up a hand, motioning for them to stay back.
Cautiously, slowly, he opened the door and found a petite young woman in dark clothes and purple streaks in her hair. He'd been right. There, in the doorway, stood a woman he'd known longer than either of them cared to admit. She was small in stature, slender yet curvy, with hair like the night sky. She had purple streaks running through it now, he noticed, and blood-red lipstick. 'So she's rocking the Gothic princess look now? I'll play along.'
She stunned him by speaking his first language, older than any surviving writing and calling him by the name his family had called him so long ago.
He replied in kind, but they kept their voices low so the others would not hear and ask questions they were not ready to answer.
"It's been a long time, I know," she admitted in the old tongue.
"Yes," he replied. "Nearly half a century! How have you been? You look . . . different."
Her full blood-red lips curved up into a smile. "So do you. No hug for an old friend?"
As they held each other in a tight embrace, he whispered that he was calling himself Adam Pierson now. She admitted that she was using the name Lilith March but wouldn't tell him why she was in town when he asked. She seemed a bit troubled and guarded, yet he'd known her long enough to know that she would say what she needed to say when she was ready.
Arm in arm, they strolled over to the table where the others had congregated.
"Lilith, this is Joe Dawson, the owner of this fine establishment. Duncan MacLeod, originally from Scotland. And our young friend with his jaw on the floor is Richie Ryan. Everyone, this is Lilith March, an old friend of mine."
As Adam made the introductions, she smiled and warmly shook each man's hands in turn.
Richie, however, seemed unable to let go of her hand. He'd never been so fascinated. Raven hair with deep purple highlights, dark soulful eyes rimmed with shimmery black eyeshadow, she looked like a modern Gothic goddess. And those clothes! Layers of black that hugged her curves in all the right places and a pair of high-heeled boots with silver buckles.
Duncan almost felt like he was watching history repeat itself. Centuries ago, he and Hugh Fitzcairn had courted the lovely Angelina. They stepped aside when she met Robert de Valicourt. Love at first site, and they'd been married for nearly three centuries now.
He couldn't help but wonder . . .
Moments later, they were all sitting comfortably around the table, the men drinking frosty beers, Lilith sipping Chardonnay. They kept the conversation light and friendly.
Joe couldn't help but snicker. "Adam and Lilith? Like the first wife of the Biblical Adam? Sounds too good to be true." He coughed when he saw the glare Adam shot him. "So, how long've you known Adam?" Dawson asked her.
"Oh, sometimes it feels like forever," she responded, lightly ribbing Adam at her left. She was always cautious about how much she revealed to mortal and Immortal alike.
'There's something familiar about her,' Duncan mused. He had the strange feeling he'd met her before, but he couldn't remember where or when. There was something in the way she looked at him, though. It wasn't longing; it seemed more like he reminded her of someone she missed.
Dawson was intrigued. He couldn't recall seeing her in any of the Watchers' files. Who was she, really?
Richie could barely keep his eyes off of her. "So, uh, Lilith, what brings you to Seacouver?"
Across the table, she gave him a Mona Lisa-like grin. "I've been travelling the last few years, New York, London, Paris, Athens, and I decided to stop by here and . . . see an old friend." She lightly patted Adam's hand. "Besides, I still have a house just outside of town that I need to check on."
"Oh, you should see that place!" Adam chimed in. "She's had it for decades. Great gardens and - Oh, don't worry, Lilith. Joe knows about us," he reassured when he noticed the furtive glance she shot to her right.
Joe inclined his head at the questioning look she gave him. She knew of the Watchers, but not much about them, so she and Joe engaged in a private little conversation.
With them having a question and answer session of their own, MacLeod took the opportunity to lean in and ask Adam who she was.
"I told you. She's Lilith, and she's an old friend of mine. She is secretive, MacLeod, sort of like I am. But she's quite trustworthy. More so than I am," he admitted softly.
Richie couldn't help himself. Listening to Joe and Lilith's exchange, he could tell she knew more than she was letting on. "Have you . . . ever heard of Methos, Lilith? I mean, it's an interesting thought. Guy who's survived for five thousand years. What do you think of that?"
She appeared to ponder this for a moment, then opened her mouth to answer. This was one of those questions she was prepared for. "Well, Rich, it's an . . . an interesting thought, like you said. Um," she stalled so it looked like she was turning the idea over in her mind. "I have no reason to think he doesn't exist . . . but, um . . ." She gave a little shrug with one shoulder. "I've never met the guy, so . . . I don't really know what to think of Methos."
'Rehearsed,' Dawson thought. 'Her reactions are rehearsed. What is she hiding?'
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my original character of Lilith and this story idea. Highlander belongs to Gregory Widen and Renaissance Pictures and whoever else holds the copyright, distribution rights, etc. (You know what I mean.) And I make no money from this silly little narrative.