Title: Fires Burnt Out On The Beach
Author: Arsenic
Rating: Adult (Slash)
Characters: Methos/Krycek/Mulder, Amanda
Archives: Seventh D, anyone else nice enough to ask
Summary: Eighth in the AM Series. The boys have a fight and Amanda explains what she is doing in DC.

Disclaimers: Alex and Mulder are still CC and Ten Thirteen's (even if we don't see Alex enough to prove this). Methos is property of R/P/D. The title is courtesy of David Mamet from his play "All Men Are Whores."

Thanks: To my two beta's for sticking it out through this.

Dedication: For Lev, in appreciation of his efforts to teach me narcissism and his indulgence towards me.

Fires Burnt Out On The Beach

^^^

Methos knocked at the door of suite 1734 on the top floor of the four star hotel where Ms. Danielle Worthing, better known and sometimes loved as Amanda, was staying. It hadn't taken him long, with all the equipment in the basement and his knowledge of the woman he was hunting, to locate her. It had taken longer to decide whether to go to her. The thought of talking without having to think out every age-related comment he made beforehand won him over. That and having the childish urge to surprise someone who didn't surprise easily.

He had felt the swish of the immortal woman upon reaching the floor, so he waited patiently as seconds ticked by. Growing exasperated, he knocked again. This time it was mere seconds before the door wrenched open and ready swords met.

"Adam?" The once-again brunette hissed the name and pulled him into the suite.

He stumbled a few paces in and turned, reaching out to touch her hair. "Growing it out again I see."

"Short got boring. What the hell are you doing in DC? Duncan and Joe have been looking everywhere for you." Amanda gave him a censuring look but one that hid silent understanding.

"First thing's first; the name right now is William Fitch, Will to friends and acquaintances."

Amanda nodded. "If you found me, you already know mine. What tipped you off? Notice that nice string of field trips I took?" She grinned innocently.

Methos shook his head. "Not very like you."

"Enough like me for you to figure it out." The grin was still there, but she was serious.

"It was more the skill than the pattern." Methos could have bitten his tongue for admitting that to her.

Amanda flashed him a smile of true joy at the statement. "Well, I suppose I have that to thank for you showing up at my doorstep. Were you looking for anything in particular?" She reached a hand out to stroke his arm suggestively.

Methos smiled. Trysts with Amanda were something a man did not turn down. From their first meeting she had redefined the term "fuck buddy" for him. But he didn't want a buddy; he wanted a friend, loathe as he was to admit it. MacLeod had spoiled him. Having someone besides his second and third personality listen to him was a novelty that he had gotten somewhat addicted to in the time he had spent with the other man. He took her hand and kissed the back of it before setting it at her side. "Yes, but not that."

Amanda withdrew her hand. "I'm not leaving the area, if that's what the something in particular is."

Methos threw her a surprised glance. He had the grace to wonder if that had been what he had come here to request. "You don't usually get attached to areas unless you have a specific bait settled on." The pieces fell together. "The houses are a distraction."

Amanda nodded, at once looking pleased and hiding her disconcertion.

"Tell me you haven't targeted the national mint." Methos's words were only slightly sarcastic.

Amanda shook her head. Methos looked at her and realized that without some strong persuasion, this conversation was not heading anywhere at the moment. Which meant that he now had two reasons to want Amanda around. He considered his next move with all the fervor of a chess master trying to win at the world level. He felt himself smile deprecatingly, his face knowing what he was going to do before his mind. "Come to dinner at my place tonight?"

"You got a place?" Amanda was back to being amused.

Methos nodded as if he didn't notice. "Nice house mates too." He walked to the desk on which the phone was situated and wrote the address on hotel stationary. "I hope six-thirty is good for you; it's hard to keep Alex out of the kitchen much later than that." He set down the pen and let himself out of the suite without waiting for her response.

^^^

"You invited someone to dinner?" Mulder surreptitiously lifted a lid from one of the simmering dishes on the stove. Methos gave him a glare that promised death and Mulder guiltily replaced the top. "As in -- a friend?"

Methos almost snickered at the barely veiled incredulity in Mulder's voice. "I should think that idea would fit perfectly into your realm of extreme possibilities."

"Some things spook even Mulder." Alex crossed to the table and began to set silverware with the plates he had set there earlier. He had put a soft emphasis on the word "spook." Methos turned to hide a smile, and Mulder gave both men a dirty look that went unseen.

"Danielle is something of an institution in my life, you could say. Has been for awhile." Methos didn't turn around to see Alex raise his eyebrows at the last part of the explanation.

"She lives around here?" Mulder was edging his way back to the stove.

"For the moment."

When it became clear that Methos was not going to say anything more or let him near the stove, Mulder went to help Alex with the table. Alex took the opportunity to come up from behind Mulder and nip at his ear. The older man's hands stole back to wrap Alex's arms around his waist. Alex took a breath to say something and then let it out. Mulder turned in his arms to look in the other man's eyes. The man Mulder was now facing dropped his head letting his hair brush across Mulder's chin. Mulder was having none of it and placed a finger under Alex's chin, forcing him too look up. He leaned over to kiss the younger man's forehead softly. "Something you wanted to tell me?"

Mulder wasn't sure why he was asking. When he tried to think anything related to Alex through, be it his feelings toward the younger man or the events of the past couple of weeks, the migraine fairy was immediately alerted and sent to his head post-haste. He knew that he didn't regret telling Alex he cared. He should have, but every time the younger man smiled, he lost all his resolve to get angry at himself for it. Now he was setting himself up to hear something that would probably make him ache in sympathy he wasn't aware he had retained through years of paranoia and cynicism. His weakness annoyed him.

Alex's eyes had all the emotion of a Star Wars protocol droid. Maybe less. "No, just forgot what I was going to say."

"Uh huh." Mulder didn't let go, instead locating the chair behind him and pulling Alex into his lap as he sat. He believed that excuse like he believed that Cancerman was innocent of all conspiratorial activities. Of course, he could just let it go at that. It wouldn't really change things; the sex would still be great and emotional involvement minimal. Mulder wondered why he was always choosing moments like this to realize just how lonely he was. "C'mon, next to Scully, you know better than anyone that when I start on a crusade, I never stop until all my questions have been answered."

Mulder's voice floated so gently across his mind that Alex thought he might be carried away by it. "Scully would pitch a fit if she knew where you were."

"Nice distraction tactic; I'll grant, but no go. Talk." Mulder's voice was slightly less gentle but no less tender. He would definitely admit to curiosity at this point. The concern that floated beneath the distance he had trained in himself pertaining to Alex was less welcome...and stronger.

"I'm just surprised you're still here is all." Alex shrugged in the hold Mulder had on him. "Glad, though."

Mulder's eyes narrowed. This was scarier than black oil could even dream of being...and more pleasurable than the endorphin high that came during a long run. "This sentiment just happened to arise today?"

Alex opted for uncomfortable silence in response, wondering why he wasn't as good at hiding things from Mulder as he was for the men he worked under.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with my favorite spy having eavesdropped on a certain conversation last night, would it?" Mulder perceived the most fractional stiffening in Alex's body. "Ah. I see." He took a moment to panic. How was he supposed to reassure Alex when he was so unsure of everything himself? When had he decided that reassuring Alex was what he was going to do? Why did that decision make him feel so good?

Alex came back at Mulder's last comment spitting. "You can be so fucking self-centered. So you really think it matters to me what you think of my activities? I've wanted you in my bed for two years now, and I got what I wanted. Not all that I had hoped for, but what I wanted all the same. You can go screw your self-righteousness alone in your apartment, Fox."

It wasn't until the last word of the diatribe that Mulder pushed Alex off of him, scrambling frantically out of the room. Before hearing his name in that same sneering derision he was so used to associating it with he had been calmly waiting for a moment in which he could intercede, tell Alex how wrong he was, enjoy the slightly abashed look he had envisioned Alex getting. Now the letters F-O-X were resounding in his mind and suddenly he couldn't think of anything but reaching the toilet.

Alex watched Mulder in his hyperdrive-fast retreat. He banged his forehead with the palm of his hand and swore roundly in Russian.

"You want me to see if I can handle it?" The spectator that had gone unacknowledged until now asked in a reluctantly concerned voice. Alex shook his head regretfully and headed in the direction that Mulder had gone. He found himself outside the bathroom door listening to the sound of Mulder vomiting. He tried the door, then pulled an emergency credit card out of his back pocket and undid the lock.

He grabbed a towel from the rack and set a washcloth under running water. He filled the glass on the sink and sat down next to the heaving man. Rubbing at Mulder's shoulders, he talked in a low voice. "Shit, I'm sorry; I swear I didn't mean it. I was lying; you know how good I am at that."

Mulder finished and took the water with shaking fingers. He rinsed and spit. He wished the vomiting had gotten rid of the vulnerability crashing up against his self-defense walls, beckoning to be let through.

Alex stood up and grabbed the washcloth. He pulled Mulder's shirt over his head and began to wipe the sweat from the weakened man. Mulder was too busy sorting out his perceptions of what was happening to do anything other than let Alex take charge. "How do I know you're not lying now?"

Alex didn't answer, just wrapped Mulder's upper body in the bath towel and situated himself against the wall so that Mulder could curl up against his body for support. Mulder's voice came again, hoarse and lilting. The vomiting may not have helped his self-image any, but it seemed to have cleared up a few issues for him. "I was going to tell you that it didn't matter, not as long as it didn't happen while you were with me."

Alex almost crawled to the toilet to repeat Mulder's actions of moments before. Instead he squeezed the still-unsteady body in his arms and rested his forehead against the other man's back. "Mulder, I -- I have a rare and unmet talent for fucking up anything that is right and good."

Mulder registered something unusual in the voice behind him and twisted around to get a visual. What he saw made him blink, unsure of what to do. All logical and illogical thought fled, leaving only a sort of dull stupidity in its place. He was so stunned that he couldn't recall when Methos had walked into the bathroom. Methos reached out a hand and wiped the tears from Alex's left cheek.

"You're crying." Mulder was dimly aware of how stupid the comment must have sounded, but nothing else seemed to fit the moment.

Alex looked at Methos, not having a response to that. Methos spoke without looking away from Alex, as if seeking permission that he knew the man would not give for what he was to say next. "I do that sometimes too. When I'm terrified, mostly. The macho idea has always been overrated." This was a truth that had been with Methos from the time his first memories drew back to. One that the man crying had probably never had the opportunity to acknowledge. Methos had to admire Alex's courage in allowing such a visible weakness to rise to the surface in front of Mulder. It had taken a lot longer than thirty-something years for him to become that brave.

Alex nodded and rubbed his cheek against the callous hand that had never left his face.

"Terrified, huh? I scare you?" Mulder sounded as if he was unsure of what to think about this revelation.

"Not you." Alex breathed, willing the tears to stop. "The absence of you."

Mulder blinked again. "Yeah." His inability to say anything even mildly intelligent was beginning to scare him. Methos retracted his hand and before he allowed himself to run back to the kitchen at top speed, settled in next to Alex so that with a little repositioning he could hold both men. His contact with two sets of warm skin told him that he had played this game further than he had meant to -- and that he was probably going to lay more chips on the table just to keep things interesting.

Mulder looked from one man to the other and figured that he wasn't going to find a better time to bring up the reason they were having this conversation seated on the uncomfortable tiles of the bathroom floor. "I hate my first name."

"Crying's not the only thing I do when I...get frightened." Alex sounded belligerent, but there was shame beneath it. Mulder grabbed Alex and Methos's hands and squeezed. He turned his head to look at Methos and spoke before he could hold back what his instincts told him to say.

"We'll just have to be in charge of making sure he doesn't get frightened, then, I suppose."

The corners of Methos's mouth quirked. Then again, maybe he could just match the new bet Mulder had laid down. "Something like that."

All three men slumped against each other and the wall, silent for moments on end. That was when the doorbell rang.

^^^

Amanda narrowed her eyes as Methos opened the door looking just barely off-kilter. "You burn something?" She pretended to sniff the air.

"You had better hope not since you'll be eating it anyway." He pulled her into the house. "Glad you came."

She surveyed the house. "I'm beginning to think I may be as well." A slightly pale Mulder in a clean shirt came stumbling in right behind a damp-faced Alex. Amanda practically purred. "Forget the think, I know."

Methos stepped in between Amanda and the two. "Danielle," he made the appropriate introductory motions, "this is Alex and this is Mulder. Mulder, Alex -- Danielle."

Neither man was completely recovered from the earlier scene, but Alex managed a patent I'm-charming-just-try-me smile and Mulder gracefully extended a hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Danielle."

Amanda took the hand, nodding in acquiescence. *House mates indeed. No wonder Methos wasn't interested in a quickie.* She dropped her fingers from Mulder's and turned to Methos. "I'm starving."

Alex moved wearily towards the kitchen to find that Methos had finished setting the table. He poured the wine while a slightly shaky Mulder transferred the meal dishes onto the table. Everyone sat down and all three men suppressed a sigh. Amanda smiled in a way that made Methos want to flinch and directed her first question at him. "Last I heard you were in Washington; what brings you here?"

Methos debated mere moments before reaching out to stroke Alex's arm. "Pleasure."

Amanda gave in to the urge to laugh. "Yes, you were always quite the hedonist." She emphasized the always ever so slightly.

Alex glanced between the two friends. "You've known Will for a while, then?"

Amanda gave Alex an assessing look. She caught the expression on Methos's face out of the corner of her eye. "Sometimes I feel like I've known him for centuries."

Mulder had caught on to the fact that he was missing something even if he wasn't quite sure what it was. He cursed his mind for not wanting to work in quick assumptions and large leaps to conclusions the way it usually did. Finding something to say, he edged his way into the conversation. "An alternate way to finding something out about the enigma, then."

Amanda watched for a facial signal from Methos and upon receiving one answered Mulder. "I don't kiss and tell." Amanda set to eating and the men followed in her example. At the lead of Alex and Methos, the rest of dinner was spent in small talk.

As Methos got up to do the dishes, Alex grabbed his wrist. "Go catch up," he motioned with his head to the living room. "We'll take care of this." When Methos began to say something Alex forged in ahead of the older man. "And make the coffee."

Having been assured that his caffeine need would be fulfilled, Methos withdrew to the back porch with Amanda.

"It's freezing out here." Amanda pointed it out in the same way one would notice that a rug was green.

"Yeah, but out here we stand a chance at not being eavesdropped upon." Methos canvassed the area with his eyes before sitting down in a satisfied sprawl.

"Two boys at one time? I thought your days of decadence were long past." Amanda let approval flood her tone. She held back her curiosity at his previous comment. She would have been disappointed if Methos had chosen boring lovers.

"How is it that I find you here alone? Your days of celibacy are never long."

"You know I'm here on business." Amanda's voice went sharp; now was not the moment to be mentioning that she had been more than slightly hopeful he would take up her offer of a tryst. Just because she knew how to live by herself did not mean she knew how to enjoy it. Still, she would choose loneliness over boredom or distaste any day when it came to lovers.

"Another oddity. Last I knew, you didn't take jobs much anymore, the hits were for yourself." The strangeness had occurred to Methos driving away from the hotel earlier that day. He wouldn't admit to himself that he was worried at the possibilities this scenario presented.

"It's more of a favor." Her features tightened almost imperceptibly.

Methos noted. "Ah, MacLeod then. I should have known." His worry level jumped a notch. MacLeod drew trouble like a refrigerator would draw a magnet.

She spread her hands. "I keep telling myself I'm going to say no."

"He does the same when it comes to you." He liked the fact that there was no tact between them, not when it came down to things that mattered.

Amanda looked over at him, only slightly annoyed.

"I cannot believe the Highlander wants you to steal something. It doesn't come even close to his style." Methos peered at her in the soft porch lighting.

She hesitated. "Not something. Someone."

Methos didn't have anything to say to that. All thoughts of directing the conversation towards his present romantic liaison fled as he let her information file itself. To his surprise, she continued. He wondered how long it had been since she'd seen anyone she could trust even nominally. "Friend of his disappeared about four months ago right after a large quickening. Only watcher reports said that the other immortal was beheaded. Then a report came forward that said men had been seen drugging and taking Duncan's friend."

"Who told you all this?" In the wake of the watcher disaster, Methos was flabbergasted that Joe would be interfering again.

"Joe may not be real hot on watcher/immortal contact right now, but he's even less thrilled by the idea of unknown men taking an immortal fuck knows where."

Methos nodded his understanding and Amanda went on, voice like the most sterile lab computer in the world. "It took some time, but we traced the men back here. The hard part is getting this guy out. We have no clue what they've been doing to him, plus, their security measures are enough to make me pause and want to think this through." Amanda rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, letting it drop in relief when Methos rose and absently took over. He wondered if he would have invited her over tonight if he had known she would tell him this. He wondered if he was glad he knew.

They stood there silently for several minutes. Amanda gave a startled jump when the sliding door opened. Mulder stood on the threshold. Noting the temperature, he leaned more towards the inside. "I think I can safely assume that you're both ready for some coffee?"

^^^

//Wood splinters crawled into the tender skin of his legs and back, making each breath a rippling of spiky pain. He forced himself not to beg for light. They wouldn't grant his request anyway.

They moved around him. Injecting him with poison, turning him onto his stomach to be whipped unto death, inflicting burns, strangling him, drowning him, freezing him, starving him... There were other ways too; he had just lost track. It didn't seem to really matter; death was the end result. Healing too, even if that got slower with each waking.

At first he wouldn't scream. The resistance, though, had eventually seemed pointless and petty, disadvantageous only to him.

They came again. He felt himself transferred onto another table, two men swinging him by his arms and legs. He was on the table before he could summon the energy even to squirm in their grasp. The buckles closed tightly against his wrists and ankles.

The buckles pulled at arms and legs. *The rack then, I suppose.* Bones snapped, weakened before being stretched to impossible limits. He felt the healing try to run through his body, disrupted by the constant state of extension everything was being held in. The dissonant forces along his nerves were more painful than anything the "scientists" had yet thought up. He screamed.//

Methos woke up aching and forced himself to breathe. The nightmares of that time almost never came now, but he had not forgotten the sensation of trying to recover from them. There had been a time when it had been the only thing he could count on night after night. *Breathe, two, three, four -- that's it.* A voice startled him out of his regained respiratory pattern.

"You okay?" Green eyes stared at him with shielded concern as if the question might get the younger man bit.

"Yeah, sorry I woke you up." Methos squirmed at the uninvited contact when Alex moved to pull him into an embrace. Alex didn't retreat and Methos allowed Alex to rub his back, soothe sweaty hair from his face and eyes, kiss where the hair had been plastered, kiss everything above his neck.

"That sounded bad." Alex's voice stayed neutral between soft kisses.

"Did I wake Mulder too?" Methos buried his head in Alex's neck and mumbled the question. The last thing he planned on doing at this moment was explaining that it couldn't have sounded half as bad as it had been. He wasn't particularly into sharing the history of that nightmare right then either.

"No, surprisingly it seems that once he attains sleep, he holds on with more determination than most pro-football quarterbacks hang onto the ball. Plus, you didn't make a sound. I just...you were moving unusually. You usually sleep in one position the entire night, like you're afraid of being found by something." There was sympathy in Alex's voice. He didn't ask about the dream again.

Methos nipped at Alex's collarbone. He figured that Alex's lack of assumption had probably earned him the right to some kind of confession on Methos's part. "Bad memories."

"Is Danielle one of you?" Alex slipped into analytical mode.

Methos hesitated, but Amanda had as much as tattooed "immortal" on her forehead that evening at dinner. "Yeah. She was almost three hundred years old when we met and every bit as...sophisticated." Methos let his appreciation seep through. "We've done the 'good times' thing on and off since then. She's a good person." Methos was pretty sure Amanda would give up thievery before admitting that she had a heart beneath the makeup and flashy clothes. Still, there had been too many times when she had given support without asking for explanations for him to deny it.

Alex sounded like he questioned this overview. "Those were intense memories."

"Not her fault." Not anyone's, really, except foolish men who were long dead. It seemed, though, if what he had deduced about Amanda's mission were true, that they weren't the last fools to exist. Not like this was new information, just the one of the many things he preferred to avoid pondering, even while in an advanced bout of cynicism. It tended to bring on nightmares. He sighed, enjoying the feel of his breath ricocheting against the dampness of Alex's skin.

"She is beautiful." Alex sounded like he was admiring an unusual gift box.

Methos looked up, trying to understand what this statement of fact was meant to convey. Looking at the larger man, he thought maybe it had been an offhand comment, said because the silence had become uncomfortable for him. That had never happened between them, but maybe tonight was the beginning. Then Alex blinked. It was quick, and the flash of his eyes behind the blink was invisible. Methos responded on instinct. "You're beautiful."

"I wouldn't blame you, you know."

Yeah, Methos did know. Alex's unwillingness to judge was perhaps his best quality. "She offered, I refused. I have everything I want right now." He thought about leaving out the last two words, but it seemed unfair to both of them.

Alex smiled. If Methos hadn't known the man better, he would have described the expression as bashful. The younger man rolled on top of Methos and kissed him deeply. "I have everything I want." He rolled back to his spot without letting go of Methos's waist. "It seems you introduce me to new things all the time."