Disclaimer: The characters of Duncan MacLeod, Methos and Joe Dawson do not belong to me and I am borrowing them for fun and entertainment only. They belong to Panzer/Davis, Rysher, Gaumont, etc. No copyright infringement is intended. Asher du Lac is my own creations.Hell Hath No Fury
by Sun Star Comments are always welcome, flames will be used to fuel the creative fires. If you want to archive this, e-mail me.
"I don't see why this day is any different from the rest." Methos complained as he slumped into a chair next to Joe. The Watcher looked up at the elder Immortal in confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
"Valentine's day. Why is this day any different than, oh say, Saint Antoninus' day?"
"When the hell is Saint Antoninus' day?"
"The tenth of May. But that's the point. What made Valentine so special?"
Joe shrugged. "What brought this on?" When Methos didn't answer, Joe started laughing. "You forgot, didn't you?"
"Valentine was a third-century Roman bishop who was beheaded for marrying soldiers against the orders of emperor. How very romantic."
"You did. You forgot." Joe was shaking with laughter.
"I can remember thousands of years of history. All my wives names, even." He told Joe.
Joe laughed even harder. "Oh man, Asher's gonna kill you."
"You don't have to keep reminding me." Methos growled at him. He looked up and at the door suddenly.
Duncan wandered in and sat down. "What's so funny?" He asked Joe, who was still laughing.
"He forgot Valentine's day." The Watcher told him once he'd gotten a breath.
The corner of Duncan's mouth quirked up as he tried not to laugh. Methos sighed, exasperated.
"Great. Thank you Joe. Now he's going to start. Wonderful." He got up and poured himself a beer.
"Of all the days to forget," Duncan shook his head. "You're dead."
By now, Joe was laughing so hard tears were running down his face. "I just can't believe you'd forget."
"I don't know why I told you. I'm going to the florist. If Asher calls, you haven't seen me." He put on his coat and froze as he felt another Immortal. The door flew open and Asher walking inside, her sword drawn.
"You!" She pointed at Methos. "You are so dead monsieur." She flew at him, her rapier swinging.
He jumped out of her reach and fumbled for his own sword. "Ash, love, I'm sorry. I really am." He told her. She shrieked and lunged at him. He ducked behind Duncan, who shook his head.
"Don't get me involved in this." He and Joe stood up and moved behind the bar.
"Thanks a lot, MacLeod. I'll remember this." He blocked her thrusts and dodged around the table. "Ch�re, please."
"Pas vous ch�re je. Je ne puis pas croire que vous oublieriez le jour de Valentine!" Asher was so mad she switched back to her native French.
"I didn't forget. Honest, I was on the way to the florist when you came in." He looked at Joe and Duncan for support. "Right guys?"
They looked at each other before nodding. "Right." They answered in unison.
Asher turned a venomous gaze at them. "Pas vous b�ton vers le haut pour lui!" She yelled, still in French. She renewed her attack on Methos, who jumped up onto the table to avoid her strike.
"Hey!" Joe yelled. "Get off there."
Methos jumped down on the other side. "Sorry Joe." He turned and met a dagger square in the chest. He'd forgotten about the main gauche that she had hidden on her back. "Damn, Ash." He gasped as he sank to the floor dead.
She stalked over to him and pulled out the dagger. Wiping the blood off on his jeans she resheathed it and her sword. "When he wakes up, tell him I went home. He can spend the night at a hotel." She told the stunned men in English and stalked out of the bar.
Joe was the first to recover. "Oh man, he better not bleed on my floor."
Duncan rushed over and picked up the body. "It's not too bad."
"If that stains, I'm making him pay his bar tab." Joe muttered, leaning forward to see the damage.
They were still leaning over him discussing the floor when Methos came back to life. He opened his eyes and let out a yell when he saw Duncan and Joe. They echoed his yell and took a step back.
"What are you trying to do, kill me again with a heart attack?" He asked them, slowly getting to his feet. He inspected the damage and was thankful he chose to wear black today. "Where did she go?"
Joe suddenly became very interested in something behind the bar. Duncan sighed. "She went home."
Methos looked relieved. "Oh good. I can-"
"And she said you can go to a hotel." Duncan cut him off.
Methos looked skyward. "Oh man. This is worse than I thought." He rubbed the place on his chest where his wound had been. "I forgot about that dagger. Don't you think that was a bit overkill?" He muttered ruefully.
"If I were you, Methos, I'd either disappear for a long time or buy Asher her own island. You're in it deep this time." Joe advised. Duncan nodded in agreement.
"You could buy out Tiffany's." He added.
Methos glared at them and put his sword inside his coat. "Thanks. You're so much help. I'll see you guys later." He headed for the door.
"If she doesn't take your head first." Duncan called as he opened the door.
"Ha, ha. Very funny. Ho, ho. It 'tis to laugh." Methos dryly quoted Daffy Duck as the door closed behind him.
Asher stormed around her flat, fuming. She was gathering up all of Methos' things and piling them in the living room. Taking up an armful of the clothes, she opened the door.
A very surprised deliveryman was just about to knock as she threw open the door. He took in the clothes and her pissed off look and smiled. "I guess these came just in time." He said.
She threw the clothes into the small yard. "What?"
"These." He handed her a large bouquet of white roses. "Be right back."
Puzzled, Asher watched as he went back to his van and brought out two more arrangements.
"Where do you want me to put them?" He asked her. She motioned for him to follow her inside.
"On the table." She set the rose she held down on the kitchen counter.
"On the table." She set the rose she held down on the kitchen counter.
"There's more." He told her and went back outside.
When he left, there were roses on every available surface of the living room and dining room. Their fragrance perfumed the whole flat. Surveying the room, Asher went back outside and gathered up Methos' clothes from the lawn. She dropped them into the pile on the living room floor and put on her coat.
Methos froze as he reached out to put the key into the lock. He drew his sword and opened the door. He slipped out of his coat and let it fall to the floor in the foyer before moving quietly into the living room. He stopped short at what he saw.
The room was lit by dozens of candles. It lent a golden glow to the sparsely decorated room. Asher was sitting in the middle of the living room wearing one of his favorite gray sweaters. All around her were white rose petals. Her hair was loose, hanging in waves down her back and over her shoulders.
"I don't think you're going to need the sword." She said huskily.
Shaking his head, he leaned the sword against the stairs. "Really? After this afternoon, I wouldn't be so sure."
She gracefully rose to her feet and stalked over to him. "You can search me if you want." She leaned up and kissed the bridge of his nose gently.
He smiled and ran his hands down her body. "No, I don't think your hiding any weapons under there. Or anything else for that matter." Leaning down, he kissed her. "You smell like roses." He told her.
"Well, I had to do something with them." She waved her hand at the petals on the floor. "There were more than I had room for."
"Good. I bought them out. I think they may have had to call other shops." He wove his fingers through her hair, reveling in the loose waves. "I love it when your hair is down."
"That's only because you don't have to brush it." She told him and broke away from his embrace. Turning, she crooked a finger at him. "Happy Valentine's Day, Methos."
"I guess this means I'm forgiven." He said and followed her into the bedroom.
Important French to know:Ch�re - Dear one Pas vous ch�re je. - Don't you dear me. Je ne puis pas croire que vous oublieriez le jour de Valentine. - I can't believe you'd forget Valentine's Day. Pas vous b�ton vers le haut pour lui - Don't you stick up for him.
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