IMMORTAL BELOVED

Title: Immortal Beloved, 2/2 
Author: Jaye (Copyright July 2002)
Codes: VOY/Highlander C/Methos NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are
the  property of Paramount. Highlander belongs to somebody
(Rysher?), but  it's been so long I've forgotten who. No
infringement is intended or  profit made. This is NC-17 for m/m sex.
If you aren't interested (or aren't  old enough), don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please
keep  the text (especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
wordsmith872@fastmail.fm

Summary: Serendipity brings together two hearts ready for love.

Note: Very AU response to a ChakotayFest Summer Challenge. Set
almost a  year after "Endgame".

***************

CONCLUSION

"I still can't believe you live on Ile Saint Louis," Chakotay said,
his  voice reflecting his wonder. "This place is absolutely
incredible."

Methos smiled as he watched Chakotay run an admiring hand along the 
marble mantelpiece. It was crafted in 1636, the same year as the
rough  stone walls and wood beams and floors of the building Methos
had owned  under various names for over two hundred years. He found
he enjoyed living  on this small island in the middle of the Seine
at the heart of Paris.  The contrast of ancient streets and modern
conveniences resonated with  his own blending of the past and
future.

Plus the building itself called to him. It had started as some 
aristocrat's manor house, but it had been split into generous
apartments some  time in its long history. Former owners had all
treated the grand  structure with the reverence it deserved. In all
of the four  apartments---each one took up the entire
floor---replicators and recyclers lived quite  happily next to terra
cotta tiles fired in the 17th century.

The 12-foot-high ceilings had never been tampered with, and the
kitchen  and bathroom were indeed fit for royalty, though admittedly
of a more  modern age. The exterior was similarly maintained, and
the place offered  a view of the bustling excitement of the village
out the front windows  but a serene, secluded courtyard in the back.
The sturdy yet cozy  antique furniture that came with the property
had clinched the deal.

Methos had claimed the entire basement for storage, and lived in the 
second-floor apartment. It was high enough not to be invaded by
street  sounds, yet close enough to the ground to offer a quick
escape if the  need ever arose. He felt at home here.

And the Immortal couldn't deny Chakotay looked right at home. He
seemed  to fit, with his love of both technology and antiquity. From
the moment  he walked in he looked like he belonged, an intrinsic
part of the  space.

Chakotay had offered to make dinner, so they'd stopped at a farmer's 
market on the way back. Methos had enjoyed watching his new lover at
work  in the kitchen, the strong but graceful hands whipping up
Mushroom  Charlemagne on brioche with a simple salad followed by
cherry sorbet. The  results would have done any French chef proud.

After dinner they'd sat at the table for an hour or so before
finally  cleaning up the kitchen, talking all the while. Chakotay
had then  wandered around with a last glass of wine, admiring the
architecture of the  rooms. Methos sat or leaned against a wall,
simply admiring him. He  could easily envision Chakotay curled up in
a wing chair reading a book,  puttering around the kitchen making
coffee or tea early in the morning,  frowning over his data in the
library, leaning against the stone railing  of the bedroom balcony
looking at the courtyard, writhing underneath  him on the
living-room hearthrug while the firelight turned his body to 
flame....

Methos blinked. That last one began a whole new series of pictures, 
Chakotay naked against every surface in the apartment, screaming in 
ecstasy. His own body reacted predictably to the enticing images and
Methos  decided it was time to do something about it. He swallowed
the last of  his wine and stood. "Are you ready for bed?" he asked.

Chakotay took one look at his lover and easily read the arousal in
the  hazel eyes. "Ready for anything," he replied, his voice husky.
And he  was. He wanted whatever Peter was willing to share with him.
Chakotay  felt entirely comfortable in this amazing place that had
retained its  old-world charm throughout the centuries. With a
similar serenity he knew  that he could trust himself to the care of
those slender hands.  Somehow, on a level that went beyond thought
or emotion or instinct, Chakotay  knew that this---they---were right
together. He had fallen deeply,  completely in love, and was
determined to go wherever the feeling led him.  Which was right into
Peter's arms.

Methos searched Chakotay's eyes as his lover put down his glass and 
approached. He sank into them, dark and deep and knowing. And open.
There  were no secrets in those eyes, just caring and wanting. Then
the sooty  lashes came down as Chakotay stepped into his embrace and
kissed him,  lips and hands caressing.

Methos's arms encircled his partner's waist as their kiss deepened, 
their mouths tasting of wine and cherries and spices. He brushed his 
tongue along Chakotay's palate, feeling a shiver of response. After
timeless  moments they parted to breathe. Methos moaned and tilted
his head  forward as soft lips moved to explore his face.

Chakotay smiled at the sound but continued to run his lips along 
Peter's high cheekbone to his temple, then up to the forehead and
down the  large nose. He returned to the wide mouth for the briefest
instant before  heading past the chin to the slim column of white
throat that begged to  be nipped and tasted. His hands stroked the
lean back.

Methos slid his palms down to cup Chakotay's buttocks and pull him 
forward, pressing their lower bodies together. He rocked his hips
from side  to side, heightening the sensations. He felt the puff of
air against  his skin as Chakotay moaned. He released the shorter
man and grabbed one  hand. "Bed," he said, leading the way.

Chakotay watched Peter's loose stride and snug, perky ass. Even in
his  aroused state he admired the room he was pulled into,
glass-paned doors  open to a small balcony, white curtains lazily
shifting in the faint  breeze. Patterned carpets in warm reds broke
up the oak floor. Antique  furniture glowed with a lightly polished
sheen, and the clutter of books  and clothes gave the place a
lived-in ambience.

Dominating the space was a beautiful wooden-frame bed, its thick 
mattresses and fluffy pillows covered in white linen. The light from
lamps  scattered around the room gave everything a golden glow.

Chakotay was led to the edge of the bed and set upon it. He looked
up  at Peter, noting the slightly puffy pink lips and glittering
eyes. He  raised his brows in silent inquiry.

Methos gazed for a long moment at Chakotay, then lifted one finger
in a  gesture to wait. He quickly moved to the bathroom and rummaged
around  his closet, pulling out a bottle of massage oil. He opened
it to the  scent of sandalwood, then quickly recapped the container
and moved back  into the bedroom.

Chakotay had slipped off his shoes and socks, brushing his toes over 
the fibers of the carpet that lay under and around the bed as he
leaned  back on his hands. He looked up to see Peter move to sit
beside him,  placing a bottle on a small tray set on a bedside
table. When Peter turned  back, Chakotay lifted his hands to frame
the handsome face. "Anything"  was all he said.

In that instant Methos made a decision that reversed centuries of 
self-protective instincts, but felt right. He leaned in to press a
quick  kiss to Chakotay's full lips, then straightened. "I want you
to make love  to me," he said softly. He could see surprise, then
heat in the brown  eyes. He smiled.

Chakotay used one finger to trace that curving bow, then nodded his 
assent and claimed another kiss, this one full of passion and
promise. He  traced the contours of Peter's mouth, running his
tongue along the  slick inner walls. At the same time he began to
lift the slimmer man's  sweater, breaking their connection a moment
to pull off the garment and  toss it somewhere past the foot of the
bed. Then he knelt on the floor to  quickly get rid of Peter's
footwear.

Methos watched Chakotay stand and push him to lay across the bed. He 
did and felt warm fingers quickly unfastening his trousers. Then the 
pants and his boxers were eased over his erection. He lifted his
hips and  the clothes were drawn away.

Chakotay rose and paused a moment to absorb the sight of his lover. 
Alabaster skin covered wiry muscles and elegant bones. Peter's
shoulders  were broad and his chest well-defined without offsetting
the overall  slenderness of his frame. His long, curving cock seemed
to beckon  Chakotay, who complied with a quick sucking brush to the
rosy head.

Methos shuddered at the brief, teasing contact. He sat up and
shifted  to the center of the bed as Chakotay pulled away to
undress. He could  feel his arousal increase with each inch of
tawny, muscular flesh  revealed. Then Chakotay settled down beside
him for another kiss. Methos laid  his hands on his lover's strong
shoulders and sighed into the embrace.

Chakotay ran his hands down the beautiful man beside him, making his 
way to the trim waist and below. He ran his fingers along Peter's
flanks,  teasing the crease at the top of one leg. He cupped the
scrotum in one  hand, rolling the balls in his palm to an
appreciative moan. He smiled  softly, then stretched to snag the
bottle of oil. He wrapped his hand  behind Peter's upper knee and
drew the long pale limb over his own hip.  After coating his cock
and his fingers with the scented fluid he traced  the cleft of the
trim white buttocks. He brushed one finger across his  lover's
hidden portal. He watched Peter's face as he breached the  opening.

Methos groaned, relaxing into the tender touch. Chakotay stretched
him  with one finger, then two, scissoring and loosening his
sphincter. He  laid his hands against the golden-bronze chest,
rubbing the soft skin  and admiring the contrast in their coloring.
Suddenly a near-forgotten  stab of pleasure shot through his body.
His breath caught as he began  shifting his hips, fucking himself on
those dancing fingers.

Chakotay was mesmerized by the sheer carnality of the vision before 
him. He leaned forward to run his teeth along Peter's collarbone as
he  slid one more finger inside the hot channel that awaited him,
taking care  to target Peter's gland. When he was sure he wouldn't
cause any pain,  he removed his fingers and shifted Peter's leg
higher, so it encircled  his own waist. He slid into the pale body
in a single smooth glide.

Methos whispered his lover's name as he was filled with Chakotay's 
solid length. He arched into the sensation and felt the head of his
penis  slide along his lover's smooth bronze belly. Then Chakotay
began rocking  to an ancient beat, and Methos closed his eyes,
sparks jumping in the  darkness each time Chakotay's cock hit his
prostate. He began grunting  in rhythm, twisting a little as the
feelings built inside him.

Chakotay groaned and panted, driving into the channel that clasped
his  cock with every stroke. One hand gripped Peter's knee while the
other  moved to that tempting cock turgid and beaded with fluid. He
surrounded  it and started pumping while he moved to bite and lick
at Peter's  arching neck.

Methos felt himself gathering, inhaling, then the breath suspended
for  an endless moment. Suddenly he exploded into shards of fierce
pleasure,  shouting Chakotay's name, thrusting into the hand milking
his spurting  cock.

Chakotay's fingers shifted to Peter's thigh as he surged forward, 
driving into the body arching toward him. He roared as his balls
released  their seed into the passage clamping around him.

Both men sighed and relaxed for a while. Chakotay slid out and
gently  lowered Peter's leg, massaging the hip and thigh. He felt
fingers in his  hair and smiled, meeting a sated hazel gaze. He
brushed his lips across  his lover's, then retreated to the bathroom
to grab and dampen a cloth.  He quickly wiped himself down and
re-rinsed the fabric. He caught his  expression in the gold-framed
mirror and shook his head at his own goofy  expression of bliss. But
he didn't try to change or hide it.

Methos stretched, long and languidly, as he watched his lover
return.  He basked in the glow of Chakotay's eyes, the tenderness of
his smile.  It had been a long time since the Immortal had felt so
content. He  purred low in his throat as caring hands quickly
cleaned his skin. When  Chakotay was done Methos rolled his body off
the bed and turned down the  covers on his side, then slid between
the white sheets.

Chakotay moved off the mattress and carefully laid the cloth on the 
tray to protect the antique wood. Then he slipped in again on his
side and  automatically moved into Peter's arms, pulling the slender
form against  his own. "Thank you for today," he said softly, "it
was one of the best  of my life."

"Mine too," Methos said, wonder at this truth shading his voice. He 
felt Chakotay snuggle in closer as he called down the lights. "Good
night,  Chakotay."

"Sleep well, Peter." Chakotay brushed the backs of his fingers along 
one pale cheek, then settled down into his pillow and closed his
eyes. He  knew he was still smiling as he drifted off to sleep.

************************************************************

Methos sat with his head propped on one hand, seriously
contemplating  murder. He'd called up the lights just enough to see
Chakotay's  unconscious form glowing against the white sheets. The
Immortal's gaze was  troubled as his eyes traced the relaxed bronze
features.

One strike with a knife would do it, he thought. One quick plunge to 
the heart and Chakotay would become an Immortal. Methos understood
now  why MacLeod had butchered his own wife on their wedding night.
The  Highlander didn't want to lose his beloved to death, so he made
the decision  to force her Quickening. So she could be by his side
for eternity.

The idea was so very tempting. Methos ran one finger along
Chakotay's  jaw. He wanted Chakotay with him, always. He desperately
wanted to tell  his new lover---his love---the truth about himself.
He wanted to hear  his real name on Chakotay's lips, to share with
him the knowledge  gathered over the thousands of years of his life.

And he could do that, he supposed, while leaving Chakotay to finish
out  his normal lifespan. Methos had trusted a few mortals with his
secrets,  even one or two that he'd truly loved, like Alexa. Or he
could stay  silent and live 80 years or so with Chakotay, pretending
to age as his  companion truly did. Methos grinned. He'd bet that
his beautiful bedmate  would still be sexy at 120, his hair aged
white and crotchety in the  mornings.

Methos sighed, uncertain. He knew what Chakotay would decide, given
a  choice. He could easily picture Chakotay's insistence that he not
force  a fate that hadn't come naturally. After all, from what
Methos had  learned Chakotay *had* come close to death in the Delta
Quadrant. More than  likely the transporter had probably prevented
the Quickening then, or  the ship's doctor's swift intervention. No,
Chakotay wouldn't kill  himself, that much was certain.

For just a moment Methos considered the irony of falling in love
with  another brown-eyed Boy Scout. This time though, the thoughts
of Duncan  were bittersweet and comforting, not painful. He thought
his Highlander  would approve.

Methos called the lights down and nestled back into Chakotay's
embrace,  absurdly pleased when the strong arms tightened around him
even as  Chakotay stayed deep in dreams. No, he couldn't kill this
wonderful man,  even to keep him. But keep him he would, for as long
as time allowed.

************************************************************
************************************************************

Chakotay ran his hands along the stones of Peter's balcony, feeling
the  lingering chill of early morning against his palms and bare
soles. He'd  awakened early and simply laid still, staring at the
man who had so  quickly captured his heart and soul. He hadn't
noticed how long Peter's  eyelashes were until the expressive hazel
eyes were hidden. When he'd  stopped himself for the third time from
claiming those shell-pink lips  he'd gotten out of bed.

He'd been glad of the chance to brush his teeth and perform his
other  morning routines. He dug through his bags for his robe and
quietly  slipped past his still sleeping companion to greet the dawn
from the  balcony. The chest-high stone parapet made him feel secure
as he leaned over  the edge to stare into the quiet courtyard.
Flagstones traced a path  through the grass and around a few tall
trees. Chakotay thought the square  could use some flowers, and
maybe a small vegetable garden tucked into  a corner. Still, it was
beautiful and peaceful.

Chakotay sighed and felt the calm reflected in his own soul. He knew 
there were many things he and Peter needed to learn about each
other. But  there was one surety: Chakotay loved the handsome, witty
man more than  he had ever thought possible. He hoped that last
night had been the  first of a lifetime together. With everything
that was in him, he hoped  so.

***************

Methos strolled out of the bathroom after his morning ablutions and 
caught the glimmer of the sun in Chakotay's black hair through the
open  French doors. His face immediately took on a wicked cast as he
regarded  the white-robed figure leaning on the balcony. The curves
of that  eminently fuckable ass were nicely outlined by the cloth.
He quickly grabbed  the bottle of oil and strode out to meet his
morning glory.

Chakotay was startled to see one long-fingered hand set a familiar 
vessel on the wide flat stone next to him. It then joined its mate
in  peeling back the edges of his robe. A very aroused penis nuzzled
his  backside as the rest of a tall slender body pressed against
him. He murmured a  welcome and tilted his head as he felt a hot
mouth sucking at his bared  neck and shoulder.

Methos savored the sweet skin and approving moans for a few minutes, 
then worked his way up behind one ear. "I know you said 'Anything',
but  not 'Anywhere' or 'Anytime'," he whispered and nipped the lobe.
"How  about here and now?"

Chakotay turned his head a little to catch impish gray-green orbs.
He  quirked an eyebrow. "What is it with you and outdoor sex?"

Methos grinned and slid his arms around Chakotay's waist, reaching
for  the knotted sash. "It's your influence, actually. You seem like
a real  nature lover." His fingers swiftly unfastened the belt, then
leisurely  traveled along satin skin as they slid the robe open and
down until it  merely hung from Chakotay's wrists and forearms. "I
like the way your  skin glows like honey in the sunlight."

"But what about your neighbors?" Chakotay's protest was half-hearted
at  best as those clever hands returned to tease his front while a
long  pulsing rod continued to tantalize his posterior.

Methos smiled in triumph as he licked, then murmured into Chakotay's 
nape, "They're probably not up yet, and they can't see anything
anyway.  We'll just have to be quiet." He slid one hand up to
Chakotay's mouth,  pretending to cover it, then moaned when the full
lips opened to suck  him in.

Chakotay's teeth and tongue worked the slender digits in his mouth, 
shaping the fine bones a moment, then he released them. He lifted
his  hands from the wall, letting the robe slide to the floor, then
ground his  naked ass against Peter's groin. "Anything, anywhere,
anytime," he said.  He heard a pleased hiss and saw a hand retrieve
the bottle. Chakotay  returned his palms to the ledge and leaned
against it slightly, spreading  his legs.

Methos kicked the robe off to the side and opened the bottle of
fluid.  His eyes feasted on the sumptuous offering before him. He
oiled his  penis first, doubting he'd have enough control to pause
at the appropriate  moment later. He then slicked both his hands and
cupped Chakotay's ass,  kneading. He savored the silky skin and firm
muscles as he worked the  oil into the golden-brown globes. He heard
his lover's sighs and shivers  of reaction as he swept along the
tops of the muscular thighs and  worked his way into the cleft.

He paused for more oil, then wickedly played his fingers around the 
puckered orifice as Chakotay squirmed. Unable to resist temptation
any  longer, Methos plunged one finger through the natural
resistance. He  spread the lubricant against the hot velvet walls,
then slid out for more  oil and another digit. At two he began a
careful stretching, expanding  his internal explorations.

Chakotay relaxed, trying to make the way easier for his partner. He 
lowered his forearms to the stones and spread his legs a little
wider. He  moaned in approval as Peter's mouth and free hand joined
in to tease  the skin of his back and sides. Then those long clever
fingers inside him  found just the right spot and he gave a
strangled gasp. His gland was  stimulated again and again, sending
electricity along his nerves to  stiffen his nipples and cock to
aching readiness. "Please, Peter, now."

Methos nodded in agreement and used his slick fingers to part 
Chakotay's buttocks once more. He watched in fascination as his
glistening cock  began to be absorbed in darker flesh as he slowly
sank into his lover's  body.

Chakotay felt himself being stretched, filled. It had been a long
time,  and his lover was a little larger than the average man.
"Spirits," he  groaned, "You're splitting me in half!"

Fortunately Chakotay's broad warm palm immediately found its way to 
Methos's ass to push against the tall body, maintaining his forward 
momentum and negating Chakotay's complaint.

Satisfied that Peter wasn't going to stop, Chakotay returned his
hand  to the stones. He felt slim arms encircle his waist, the hands 
immediately moving to Chakotay's chest. The clever, teasing fingers
began  tormenting his nipples to almost painful arousal, a
counterpoint to the faint  burning in his ass. After an eternity of
anticipation he finally felt  the brush of pubic hair against his
butt. He shuddered and then  straightened, one hand running along
the arms still exploring his skin. He  pushed back once more and
felt his lover's chest press against his spine.

Chakotay meant to simply give an appreciative sigh, but the thought 
slipped out unbidden. "Does it make me a helpless fool if I say 'I
love  you' so soon?" The second the words filled the air he turned
his head,  wanting to see Peter's face, holding his breath.

Methos felt the tension in the powerful body, but his own filled
with  happiness. He leaned forward a little, one hand capturing
Chakotay's jaw  to deliver a kiss of love and passion. When he broke
away he smiled.  "No," he said, "it puts you in perfect company."
The smile he received in  return was more dazzling than the sunlight
surrounding them. He pressed  his forehead to Chakotay's, moved
beyond speech.

Chakotay leaned his head into Peter's for a long moment, then turned 
back to look out onto a new and perfect day. He shifted his hips
back and  clenched internally. He grinned smugly at the expletive
the move  startled out of Peter. Then it was Chakotay's turn to
groan, as the fleshy  rod inside him pulled out and charged back.

Methos's hands ranged over the muscles of his lover's form as he
began  plunging into the sleek, welcoming body. He set his mouth
against a  bronze shoulder to keep from shouting his pleasure at
each stroke. He  heard Chakotay's own muffled sounds as their
movements grew more wild and  the feelings more intense. When he
knew he was past the point of no  return he grabbed Chakotay's hot,
hard length and started squeezing and  sliding, his hands slippery
with oil and his lover's precum.

Chakotay drove back to match every lunge, biting his lip to keep
from  howling. He had been on the edge so long he was dazed by the
continuous  sharp bursts of pleasure and the building tension of
anticipation.  Finally, finally hands surrounded his cock and he
thrust into their grip.  He couldn't control his shout as he went
over the edge, flexing and  writhing as fulfillment sizzled
white-hot through his veins.

Methos pressed Chakotay into the stones, using them and his grip to 
keep the bronze body in place as he drove his penis deep. His wild
cries  of pleasure kept time with each fierce movement as his semen
burst from  him, shooting forth to bathe his lover's core.

They were both trembling in the aftermath, intensely aware of their 
connection. Pale hands and bronze moved to soothe and reassure,
gentling  each other down to comfort and peace.

Chakotay pushed himself back half a step from the balustrade. He
felt  Peter's hands come to rest crossed against his chest. He
lifted his  hands to clasp more slender counterparts. He raised the
delicate knuckles  to his lips and kissed them, then returned them
to rest over his heart.

The stood for a while, silent, still pressed together, sharing the 
moment. Watching the light of morning grow stronger.

************************************************************

Marseilles was the same as Methos remembered it. In all honesty, it 
hadn't changed that much since he'd first visited the
then-Phoenician  settlement 3,000 years ago. It was still a bustling
port filled with the  calls of birds and the scent of fish, the
quais lined with small boats  and yachts. The narrow streets around
the docks teemed with people from  all planets and walks of
life---including some who continued the  venerable Marseilles
tradition of smuggling.

He smiled ruefully at his own enjoyment. He and Chakotay had again 
played tourist, traveling by centuries-old rail lines to the
southeast  corner of France. Once in the city they'd trekked the
"loop", walking the  three sides of the Old Port and taking the
ferryboat across to complete  the journey.

He'd had a brief moment of real nostalgia when they later toured the 
Jardin des Vestiges---Garden of Ruins. The sight of the ancient pink 
limestone docks and fortifications glowing in the sun had stirred
long-held  memories. Chakotay hadn't understood his temporary
melancholy, but had  simply slipped comforting arms about Methos's
waist for a hug as they  sat among the remains of ages past. The
scent and solid warmth of the  body behind him had lifted the
Immortal's spirits and soon they were off  again to a tiny museum.

Chakotay had turned down a bowl of bouillabaisse, easily finding a 
Mediterranean vegetarian meal. But neither of them had been able to
resist  the navettes when the jaunty ship-shaped pastries had later
called to  them from a glass case at the front of a terrace café. A
leisurely  afternoon of people-watching had followed, then a small
dinner by  candlelight in a restaurant on a narrow sidestreet.

************************************************************

They'd walked hand in hand through the city until night fell and 
Sandrine's opened. Methos had shared Chakotay's instant approval of
the shady  lady, who laughed at the notion of Tom Paris being tamed
by a  temperamental half-Klingon. She flirted outrageously with them
both, but seemed  genuinely happy at their amour when she
intercepted a hot look from  Methos to Chakotay. She'd purringly
asked them if they wanted a room.  Methos couldn't believe how
turned on he'd been when Chakotay blushed at  the suggestion. He'd
been forced to immediately turn his body toward the  bar to hide his
obvious reaction.

Chakotay sent a sidelong look at his lover and licked his lips at
the  speculative light in the hazel eyes. Now that he'd gotten over
the shock  of the suggestion, he welcomed visions of being dragged
upstairs. Or  maybe doing the dragging, tossing that long body over
his shoulder for  the trip then dumping Peter onto a rickety bed for
a thorough ravishment.

Their gazes locked, communicating desire and need. Both men said, 
"Transporter," at the same time. Chakotay turned to meet Sandrine's
knowing  smile. "Thank you, but we need to get back to Paris." He
kissed the  lady's hand and promised to deliver her message to Tom.

Chakotay felt like skipping he was so happy as he and Peter returned
to  the narrow dark street. But of course he didn't. Their assured
strides  carried them past closed shops and a few residences
spilling light onto  the sidewalk. He would occasionally turn his
head for a brief,  heat-filled glance at his partner that always
softened into a loving smile at  the notion that this wonderful
being was his. From the looks he got back  they seemed to be a
mutual appreciation society.

Both men kept alert to their surroundings, since they were in a
rougher  section of town and the transport station was several
blocks away. It  was simply bad luck that they caught a flash of
movement in a dimly lit  alley.

Long-trained reflexes caused them to stop and assess the situation.
Two  Ferengi looked up at them with guilty expressions that
immediately  hardened. The phasers in their hands glinted briefly,
but neither Chakotay  or Methos had enough time to dodge the bolts.

The anonymous aliens quickly dragged the bodies into the alley, 
concluded the illegal transaction the humans had interrupted and
disappeared  into the night without another thought for the men
whose lives they  changed forever.

************************************************************

Methos revived with a jolt and scrambled to his knees. The oldest 
Immortal turned to search for what he desperately hoped was the
youngest.  Chakotay's body lay unmoving a few meters farther down
the narrow  passage. Methos knew by the stillness as he approached
that it was already too  late to call for help. Sinking again to his
knees Methos tenderly  turned the limp form, laying Chakotay's head
upon his thighs. He traced the  tattoo, stroked the dark hair, and
waited, barely daring to breathe.

After long minutes of heart-stopping anxiety, he nearly collapsed as
he  witnessed the first, gulping rush of air into Chakotay's lungs.
The  dark lashes fluttered, and then those ageless brown eyes looked
up at  Methos in confusion. Methos's own lips curled as he saw the
full mouth open  to ask what was probably the first of a million
questions.

"Welcome to a brave new world, Chakotay," Methos said, then out of
love  and joy and sheer relief, he kissed his fellow Immortal.

THE END