The headaches began after he came out of the ice...

[justakidfrombrklyn]

To say that a lot of things had changed once he'd come out of the ice wasn't just an understatement; it was practically cruel. The worst part in a lot of ways, though, was the way people treated him: as if the ice had preserved him, kept him exactly as he'd been when he'd sent the plane crash landing into the Atlantic.

It couldn't be further from the truth, though.

He'd died. The water had rushed in, the cold had soaked into his bones, the ice had taken over and he'd died and he'd felt it as he'd died. He'd felt the cold, woken up a dozen times stuck in the ice, unable to move and let it consume him, again and again. He still had nightmares about it, nightmares he didn't share because they were so ridiculous in some ways, debilitating in others.

And then there were the headaches.

He only got them occasionally, a strange buzz beginning behind his eyes and around, his eyes shifting unbidden as if he could find the cause for something that was going on inside his own head. And yet, sometimes it really felt like he could. He'd look around, the feeling exploding inside his skull, and he'd suddenly meet eyes with someone and the feeling would suddenly vanish. Usually, the person in question would blink at him and rush off, which was fair since one of the cardinal rules of walking around a large city was to avoid eye contact unless necessary. He didn't think too much about it until he went back to Europe, back at war again in his search for his lost... friend...

Which was when the buzzing headaches started to get far more frequent.

Sam, the finest companion a man could ask for, had decided to follow a lead in Madrid that Natasha had sent their way (one that would have been set off badly had Captain America's well-known mug shown up) which had left Steve enjoying the sights and snooping around Paris for the time being. Thankfully, there was a lot to see, a lot to investigate, but also... a lot to draw.

Beautiful things to draw.

He was halfway through sketching out a panel of the Arc De Triomph when he felt it there, head lifting from the paper to try and find the 'cause'. This was getting mildly ridiculous...

Comments

[im_just_a_guy]

"Gotcha. Shouldn't be a problem," he agreed. "We turn left up here-- Actually, how do you feel about a bit of an unconventional shortcut?" he asked, eyes glinting mischievously.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

Steve's eyes glimmered with a matching penchant for mischief and he nodded, firmly.

"I'll follow you."

[im_just_a_guy]

Methos grinned, and turned right instead, taking them down a narrow, cobblestone alleyway, and down into one of the many entrances into the catacombs.

"You ever get a chance to check out the catacombs before?" he asked.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

He nodded, and his eyes wandered around the entrance.

"I wouldn't say I got to 'check' them out," he admitted as they stepped into the darker passage, "but I've been through them. We used them to travel through the city when we had to deal with the French resistance."

[im_just_a_guy]

"...speaking of the resistance," Methos said, as he lead the way down a curving tunnel. He pulled a flashlight from one pocket, and flipped it on, turning the diffuser to give them a broader, if dimmer view.

"I had a friend there, and I'm kind of curious now if you ever met him. Tall Scottish fellow, with black hair, and these soulful, brooding eyes?"

[justakidfrombrklyn]

Steve considered for a moment before he finally nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, actually, I think I do. His French wasn't the finest," and he paused as the memory rose. "Gabe tried to teach him and he got into a bunch of fights with Monty over something or other. Monty just said it was him being English and the guy being Scottish but I almost ended up putting them both in a corner after about an hour."

[im_just_a_guy]

"Yeah, that sounds like Mac," Methos said, grinning again, his teeth reflecting the light. "You'll probably meet him again before long."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

"Aha," Steve said diplomatically, "well. Not the worst person who could pop up again. Hopefully, he doesn't have any beef with me."

[im_just_a_guy]

"I don't see why he would," Methos said. "But fair warning, you remember the type I mentioned before, who get stuck in the past? He's kind of one of them. Still stuck with the attitudes and ideals of Bonny Scotland, four-hundred years ago."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

He raised an eyebrow.

"And people call me old fashioned."

[im_just_a_guy]

"You're old-fashioned; he's archaic. And you can tell him I said so," Methos added cheerfully. "Ah! Here we are, just up this ladder, come on."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

He chuckled and, waiting until Adam was fully off the ladder, leaped up to very near the top of the ladder. Once he had his grip, he flung himself the rest of the way, flipping to land steadily on his feet at the top.

"I will... If he gives me reason to."

[im_just_a_guy]

Methos watched him, and shook his head a little.

No. Never. It was amazing enough to see the man in action on the television, but to see something like that in the flesh...

"Do me a favour Steve, and never, ever go bad? I don't know that any of us could stop you if you did."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

He looked over at Adam and there was something old and a little sad there.

"I've always done my best to be a good man."

[im_just_a_guy]

"Well... You seem to be doing a good job, so far. So keep it up. See that door, right over there? That's the place."

Well, it was the back entrance, anyway, which, all things considered was the way Methos wanted to go in. It was also the door he had a key to, for emergencies. It warmed his shriveled old heart that after everything, Joe trusted him with that.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

"Well, go on and lead the way in. The owner is your friend, after all," Steve pointed out with an impish little smile.

[im_just_a_guy]

"Yeah, yeah, come on." Methos lead the way, fishing his keys out as he went. The nicely modern lock on the solid old door turned almost soundlessly, though there was a faint squeak of the hinges as he pushed it open.

"Hey Joe! It's me, and I've brought a new friend!" he called.

"Adam? Isn't it a little early even for you?" his old friend called back.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

"Good day, sir," and Steve made a point of throwing off a very familiar salute as he came up behind Adam. "A pleasure to meet you. Steve."

[im_just_a_guy]

The look on Joe's face when he saw just who the 'new friend' was, was something that Methos would treasure for all of eternity. His eyes wide, jaw starting to drop, before he caught himself, and stood as straight as he could to return the salute.

"Believe me, Captain Rogers - Steve - the pleasure's all mine. Joe Dawson," he continued, stepping forward, and extending his free hand. "Come on in, have a drink, on the house. Not you, Adam," he added sternly, when Methos started to perk up.

[justakidfrombrklyn]

Steve gave Joe a warm smile, taking the hand in a firm shake.

"Good to meet you, Joe. Though I'll cover a couple of drinks for Adam here if you don't mind. I'm taking up his time, after all."

[im_just_a_guy]

"Oh no, don't let this conman trick you," Joe said. "He'll mooch forever, if you let him."

"Joe!" Methos protested. "I would not!"

[justakidfrombrklyn]

Steve looked from Joe to Adam and rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully.

"Forever, huh?"

[im_just_a_guy]

Joe isn't stupid; he's very good at his job, and Methos can see the wheels turn into place and click in his head in very quickly.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," Joe says, and Methos can't help the grin.

"Nope."

[justakidfrombrklyn]

Steve shrugged and gave Joe a hopeful smile.

"If it helps anything, I don't intend to make any waves about it."

[im_just_a_guy]

Joe just pinches the bridge of his nose, and shakes his head. Methos takes this as a point for him in the odd little game of mutual annoyance he and Joe play.

"All right, come on, both of you. I need a drink after that little revelation." Without another word, Joe turns, and heads up front toward the bar, and Methos follows, a grin on his face, and a little bounce in his step.