Disclaimer: Highlander: The Series belongs to Rysher Entertainment, Gaumont Television, and Davis/Panzer Productions. No copyright infringements were intended. This story was written for entertainment and no money was exchanged.

Spoilers and timing: Set not long after the Modern Prometheus with spoilers for that, Comes a Horseman, and Revelation 6:8.

Summary: An old myth wants Methos' head. Meanwhile, Duncan and Joe try to understand the old Immortal and come to grips with recent events, but that proves to be really difficult.

*****

Methos strolled down the crowded Seacouver sidewalk. It wasn't as busy as a city like New York, but there were some news stands, hot dog stands, and plenty of people walking or driving to and from work.

He was in the business section of town. He usually stayed away from this section, preferring to take the back roads, but today he had to go clothes shopping, and the closest store to his apartment was only two blocks away from where he was now.

He gazed up at a skyscraper, shaking his head. There was once a time when he thought a building that tall would be impossible to build. The modern world continued to amaze him with its gadgets and machines. He just wished that air conditioning had been invented a little earlier.

At the southeast curb of an intersection, he felt the Buzz. Oh, no, he thought, looking around for a good escape route. Before his eyes found one, they fell upon the other Immortal.

He stood on the northeast curb. He was at least six feet tall with short brown hair. Methos gasped. He knew him, even though he looked a lot different now.

"Perseus," he whispered, remembering their last encounter.

*****

Methos strolled down the road. He was drunk and he knew it, but he didn't really care. It was after dark, which made seeing difficult, although there seemed to be two of everything he could see. He put all his concentration into walking in a straight line, which was proving more and more difficult as time went on.

As he approached King Cepheus' house, he dimly registered lights and laughter pouring out of the great hall's windows. A few people, just as drunk as him, were leaving. Methos waved to one of them. "Hey, you," he said, grabbing the drunk's sleeve. "What's the celebration for?"

The other drunk giggled. "Perseus, the great slayer of the Gorgon Medusa, has married King Cepheus' daughter Andromeda. That is their wedding feast."

"Thanks, friend," Methos said, pushing the drunk away, not noticing when the guy dropped to the ground and promptly fell into an alcohol-induced slumber. Methos approached the door to the hall and walked in. As soon as he was inside, he felt the Buzz.

If he was thinking straight, he would have turned around and gotten the heck out of dodge. He would have steered clear from the other Immortal and not even make eye contact, but he wasn't thinking straight. He scanned the crowd, squinting against the double images he was seeing. Finally, his eyes landed on the two Immortals he was looking for. His eyesight cleared a little and he realized it was only one Immortal, and that Immortal was standing at the end of the table, next to a beautiful young woman. This must be Perseus, Methos guessed, although he didn't have the faintest idea how he knew that bit of information, since his drunken mind didn't allow a short-term memory.

Perseus was just as drunk as him. He lifted something high above everyone's heads. "This is the head of Medusa," he said proudly. "The eyes are covered to protect all of you from turning to stone, because even in death her eyes have power."

His drunk audience "ooed" and "awed." Methos walked around the table, trying to get a better look. When he was only a few feet away, he burst out laughing.

All eyes turned to him, including Perseus'. "Is there something you find amusing, friend?"

Methos nodded. "It's that thing you're holding," he answered. "Who do you think you're fooling? It's just a painted rag ball with dead snakes sewn into it. You didn't kill any scary 'monster.'"

The people gathered there began to whisper, suddenly having doubts. One of them stood up and spoke in protest. "That is Medusa's head. There is no doubt."

Methos laughed again. His brain tried to tell him something along the lines of "shut up," but he was too drunk to notice the message. "Medusa isn't real. It's just something ego-boy here made up to get Andromeda over there."

Perseus was outraged. He drew his sword and almost fell over. "No friend of mine would be as insulting as you are."

Methos tried to get his own sword loose but soon gave up. He grabbed another guy's instead and held it up.

Perseus charged and Methos got out of his way. They were so drunk that their movements were slow, but neither of them noticed that little detail. A crowd gathered around them, cheering them on. Perseus smiled, happy to show off, and charged again.

"Stop!" a voice cried out, and they did, looking bewildered at the new voice. The crowd turned and looked as Phineus stepped onto the table so the two Immortals could see him. "I am Phineus. Perseus stole my bride, and I wish to avenge her and myself!"

Another man stepped up, trying to stop him from doing something foolish. "What are you doing? Have you lost your mind? Get down, brother. Andromeda isn't yours anymore. You didn't even try to save her from the monster from the sea. That's when you lost her."

At that, the drunk Methos burst out laughing again. "'Monster from the sea?'" He turned to Perseus. "What was it? A shark?"

Ignoring his brother and Methos, Phineus threw his spear. It soared through the air and landed tip-first in the floor, lodging itself through the stone only a few inches away from Perseus' foot.

Perseus forgot about his duel with Methos. Letting out a cry of anger, he pulled the spear out and hurled it back. He was still quite drunk, however, and shot it at the wrong Phineus. It impaled Phineus' brother's heart, making him gasp.

Silence filled the hall as they all stared at the spear sticking through his chest. He looked down in wonder as well. He tried to breathe, but blood sputtered out of his mouth instead. He fell to his knees.

"Cepheus!" Phineus cried. He leaped off the table and cradled his brother's head in his lap. Cepheus looked up at him before his eyes closed.

Phineus gazed down at his brother in shock. Anger soon replaced it. Phineus jerked the sphere out of his dead brother's chest and faced Perseus. "You will die for that!"

He hurled the javelin, but once again, it hit the wrong person. One of the men in the crowd went down. His comrades let out war cries and pulled their weapons, and so did everyone else.

The hall went alive again with the clash of swords and fists as everyone started fighting and killing each other. Methos heard the women scream as they tried to get away. Some of them didn't make it.

"Time to go," the oldest Immortal decided. He turned to the door and started hacking his way through. A knife flew past him, stabbing one of the people he was fighting. Methos pushed him aside and exited through the door.

*****

Perseus held his gaze. It was obvious that he recognized the older Immortal. Damn, Methos thought.

Perseus started crossing the street, making cars and cabs swerve out of his way. The drivers honked and shouted obscenities but Perseus ignored them and continued his trek toward Methos.

I've gotta get out of here. Methos looked around for an exit. He saw a bus on the far side of the intersecting street. The stoplight for that flow of traffic was red. He ran as fast as he could to the other side.

Perseus ran after him, disrupting the flow of traffic even more. "Come back here, you coward!" he called.

His heart pounding, Methos ran to the other side of the bus and bounded up the steps. Out of breath, he fished a few coins out of his pocket and handed them to the driver, then he found a seat. A minute later, the bus thankfully pulled out.

Methos heard police sirens. He looked out the window and saw several cops step out of their cars with their guns trained at Perseus while their comrades grabbed his arms.

Methos sat back. That was a close one, he remarked to himself. He needed to be more careful. If he convinced Joe Dawson to let him use the Watcher's Database, Methos could find out if Perseus was passing through or not, and then he could avoid him.

*****

Methos entered Joe's Bar and felt the Buzz for the second time. He glanced around and let out of breath of relief when he realized it was just MacLeod, who sat at the counter. There were a few other patrons, but they were at some of the tables. Recorded blues music flowed out of the speakers, but they did nothing to soothe Methos' jumping nerves.

He sat down next to MacLeod. "Hey, Mac."

Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod nodded and then proceeded to watch him closely. Methos sighed. Now he wished he hadn't come. Even though months had passed since the whole Horsemen incident, Duncan still didn't trust him completely. He wasn't pushing Methos away, however, and for that he was grateful. He didn't have that many friends as it is and wanted to stay on the Highlander's good side.

Joe walked up and handed the old man a glass of his usual beer and a pitcher for refills. "Thanks," Methos said, trying to act calm as his thoughts returned to why he stopped by. He gulped down the glass quickly and poured another, which he drained just as quickly.

His two friends looked at him, concerned. "You okay, Adam?" Joe asked.

Methos looked at them and winced. "Actually, I'm not. I ran into an old acquaintance today."

Joe and Duncan exchanged looks. An old acquaintance usually wanted to start some trouble, but it wasn't often that one came from Methos' own past. "Who is it?" The Watcher asked.

Methos took a deep breath and said, "Perseus."

They stared at him. "Perseus? The supposed slayer of Medusa?" Duncan asked.

"The very same."

Joe looked thoughtful. "There is an Immortal who's new in town, but he's only staying for a few days. He's around six feet, dark hair?"

"That's him. What name is he using and where is he staying?"

"Peter Harding. He's staying at that expensive hotel downtown."

"Thanks," Methos said. "Now I have to avoid him as much as possible, which will be pretty easy if he hasn't changed since we first met."

"What do you mean?" Duncan asked.

"The boy has an ego the size of Alaska. There's no way he'll be able to keep a low profile. I'm sure both of you know the story. The bards and poets characterized him perfectly. That's the only thing they got completely right, however."

"What really happened, then?" Duncan asked.

Methos shook his head. "It's not important."

"Methos…"

He sighed. "Oh, all right." He told them what happened.

"I didn't think Immortals could get that drunk," Joe said, smiling.

Methos glared at him and sighed. "I'm gonna go," he said.

"I'll let you know if something comes up," Joe promised. He nodded his thanks.

"Do you need any help?" MacLeod asked.

Always the boy scout, Methos thought, even though he appreciated the offer. He shook his head. "I'll see you guys later."

Duncan and Joe watched the Immortal leave. "That doesn't happen often," Joe remarked.

"What doesn't?"

"His old friends or enemies popping up," Joe replied. He scratched his head. "If he keeps claiming all these connections to what are supposed to be myths, I won't know what's real or not."

Duncan shook his head. "Neither will I." History wasn't the only thing he wasn't sure of anymore. Methos seemed to become an even bigger mystery as time went on. For years, Duncan thought he was just a scholar. It certainly seemed that way. The old man was smart and crafty, and he stayed out of fights as much as possible. When Duncan found out he was a Horseman several thousand years ago, it was a shock. Even after that, he was disgusted when he found out that Methos hung out with men like Byron. I wonder if I'll ever understand him, he wondered.

Joe left to do research and talk to Perseus' Watcher to see if the Immortal was tracking down Methos, leaving Duncan with his thoughts.

*****

Later that night at his apartment, Methos got ready for bed. Only a few seconds after he lay down, his phone rang. Methos sighed, reached over, and picked it up. "Hello, Peirson here."

"Hey, Adam," Joe's voice responded. "I've been doing research on Perseus and there's something I think you should know."

"Go ahead."

"Well, he certainly doesn't keep a low profile. He's made billions. His corporation helps translate ancient texts for governments or anyone else for a very high price. Their results are always good, so the money keeps coming in, but the rumor is that he translates them incorrectly on purpose, especially the ones related to his glory days in Greece."

"Probably because he didn't have any glory days. He just wants everyone to think he did."

A sudden noise made Methos' head snap to the door. Someone was moving down the hall of the apartment building.

"That's the rumor," Joe agreed. "Methos, be careful. His Watcher says that he's been researching you. I think he already knew what alias you were using because he knew exactly where to look. He thinks it's because Perseus doesn't like loosing, like he did a few thousand years ago when you guys fought, so he keeps tabs on all of his enemies. His Watcher believed Perseus didn't know you were in Seacouver. He's going to want to settle the score between you two."

The Buzz hit him when he heard the footsteps get even closer. Not making a sound, Methos put the phone back in the cradle. He faintly heard Joe's voice saying, "Adam, are you there? Adam? Methos!" but if he answered he'd make too much noise.

Slowly, he lowered himself back into bed and closed his eyes. He reached down below his bed for the pommel of his Ivanhoe. Then he waited, keeping as still as he could manage.

*****

"Methos!" Joe shouted into the phone. It was no use. The old man wouldn't answer. A few seconds later, the line disconnected.

Shit, he thought. He dialed Duncan's phone number and put it between his ear and shoulder. Then he reached into his desk drawer, took out his gun and a clip, and put it in.

The phone picked up on the third ring. "DeSolvo's Gym, Duncan MacLeod speaking."

"Mac, we have to get to Adam's. Something's up."

*****

Perseus opened the door and crept into the room. It was after midnight, but he could see by the beam of a streetlight shining through a window. He could see Methos' figure lying in bed. Perseus grinned wickedly. Finally, he'd get rid of this menace.

He stopped next to the bed. Methos was asleep. He wouldn't stand a chance. Perseus raised his sword, ready for the downward stroke.

Another blade suddenly appeared and pressed against his neck. Perseus gasped and looked down.

Methos held a sword to his neck. "Thought you'd finish me off in my sleep, did you?" he shook his head. "That isn't the way a warrior would act."

Enraged, Perseus snarled at him. "What would you know about being a warrior?"

"I think I know more about it than you."

"We'll see about that." Perseus backed up away from the blade, but Methos didn't make an effort to keep his blade at his neck. Perseus stopped a few feet away and got in a fighting position. "Let's settle this."

Methos jumped out of bed and got into position as well. "Didn't stay in jail, I see," he commented.

"I had other plans." Perseus swung his sword down in an arc and Methos blocked it. They continued to trade blows until Perseus was backed up against the window. He thrust toward Methos' stomach but Methos jumped back, out of his way.

Perseus miscalculated and lost his balance. Methos hit him in the small of his back and Perseus fell to the ground. He quickly rolled onto his back and kicked out, catching Methos under the chin, whipping his head back with a loud crack.

Methos' temporarily dead body fell to the ground. Perseus got up and stood over Methos and raised his sword, ready to land the killing blow.

A new Buzz hit him, and Perseus heard someone shout, "Methos!" He looked at the door to see another Immortal and a guy with a cane entering the apartment. The latter flicked on the lights, making Perseus blink against the unexpected glare.

He felt another Buzz and heard Methos gasp. He looked down at the same time Methos' sword cut through his stomach.

Perseus gasped and clutched his stomach. He looked and realized Methos was positioned in front of the window. Grinning, Perseus let out a cry and charged him like a bull.

Methos was pushed back and through the window. The glass shattered around him as he fell to the roof below. He landed on his back on a bed of glass, winded. He saw black spots in his vision and blinked them away, and was dimly aware that he wasn't holding onto his sword.

Perseus jumped down from the window. Suddenly, he loomed over him. He raised his blade and swung toward Methos' neck once again.

Methos grabbed his Ivanhoe, swung it up to block the falling blade. Their blades met in a flash of sparks. The momentum from Perseus' blade made them fall until they were only an inch away from Methos' neck, and they stayed there through all the force Methos could muster. Both men pushed on their blades, trying to get the right away.

Perseus' leg kicked Methos' crouch, making Methos gasp, but he didn't loosen his grip. As much as that hurt, he'd been through worse, and he learned from those times not to let the pain control him

His own knee targeted Perseus' crouch, but one of Perseus's arms let go of his sword and caught the knee. His other arm couldn't hold the sword down, however, and Methos succeeded in pushing it away from his neck, making Perseus' blade swing back around Perseus' right side. Before he could react, the oldest Immortal sliced through his left arm.

Perseus screamed in pain, let go of Methos' leg, and backed away. Methos flipped onto his feet and got into position.

Perseus looked at him with hatred. "You'll pay for that," he promised, breathing heavily.

"Is money all you think about?" Methos was also breathing heavily, but he wouldn't give up. Behind Perseus, he saw Joe and Duncan standing at the broken window, watching with worried expressions.

Perseus swung his sword and Methos blocked once again. He swung it again, targeting different parts of Methos' body, but Methos blocked it each time. At first, Perseus backed Methos up, then Methos drove him back. That changed when they got near the edge of the roof.

Before Perseus backed Methos up to the low concrete wall, Methos changed directions, making them head back to the center of the roof, close to the wall of his apartment building. He swung a right and ducked one aimed for his head. He backed up a few steps and both men stopped fighting for a minute, trying to catch their breaths.

"What's the matter, Perseus?" Methos asked in Ancient Greek. "With all the bragging you do, I would have thought you'd win by now."

Perseus' eyes narrowed, then he smiled. "I have you right where I want you."

Methos just raised an eyebrow before attacking. He moved fast and sliced Perseus' stomach before he could react.

"Isn't that the second time that's happened?" Methos remarked. "I guess it really does take two."

Perseus recovered quickly and swung at Methos' head again. Methos ducked easily.

Instead of sliding through the flesh, the sword slid through stone. Perseus stared, dismayed, at the blade lodged into the wall.

He felt Methos' blade against his neck. He looked to his left and saw Methos standed there. He laughed. "You can't kill me. No one defeats the slayer of the Gorgon."

"Watch me," Methos answered.

He swung, and Perseus' disembodied head fell to the ground, followed soon after by his body. Methos dropped his Ivanhoe and waited.

A mist floated up from Perseus' body and enveloped Methos. The old Immortal closed his eyes and let it come. Thunder rolled and a lightning bolt struck his body, making him gasp and open his eyes wide.

A wind picked up, blowing away glass shards and forcing Methos' arms to spread open wide. Another lightning bolt struck him and he cried out, in pain and in pleasure. Lightning raced down the electric poles into his and the other apartments, and he heard a car alarm start to whirl far below.

One last lightning bolt hit him before the Quickening storm dissipated. Methos dropped to his knees, exhausted.

He felt strong arms lift him up. "We've got to go before the cops get here," he heard Joe say. Duncan helped him into his apartment. He followed them out the fire escape and to Duncan's car, pulling out only seconds before the cops pulled in.

*****

"Peter Harding, a man who has made millions translating ancient texts, was found beheaded on the roof of an apartment building here in Seacouver." The female newscaster on the TV reported. "The apartment closest to the murder scene has a broken window and the owner, Ian Hart, is missing. Police believe that Ian Hart was the member of a international cult that has committed murders just like this one continuously in the last few decades."

Duncan clicked the TV off and sat back. Methos came back from the kitchen with new beers for him, Duncan, and Joe, who sat in the chairs. After giving them their drinks, Methos sprawled out on the couch and took a big gulp of his beer.

"You know, Methos," Duncan began. Methos rolled his eyes, knowing that Duncan was going to say something patriotic or something. He looked over at the Scot. "Joe told me what Perseus was really doing, and I agree with him that it was wrong of Perseus not to tell people what was really on those tablets."

"What's your point?"

Duncan smiled. "I think you actually did the right thing when you killed him."

Methos stared at him. Then he got up and started putting on his coat.

Duncan stood up, too. "You keep saying you don’t have a conscience, but now I know that's just talk, old man."

"Please," Methos begged, "spare me." He walked to the door. "See you guys later."

Joe and Duncan burst out laughing. After they calmed down, Joe shook his head and glanced at the closed door. "I think he really does have a conscience."

Duncan nodded. "Yeah, me, too. It's hard to tell sometimes thought, isn't it?"

"You got that right," Joe agreed. "But that's why we love him."

"Love him? Don't push it, Joe."

In the stairwell, Methos listened in and smiled. He was relieved that Duncan no longer thought of him as the slaughterer of thousands, like he was a long time ago, and it felt good to be able to joke with them again. He made his way down the stairs, smiling.

THE END