A Watcher's Journal
by Erika

Pairing: Methos/Wolverine
Disc: The X-men characters are property of Stan Lee, Marvel and their associated companies. Highlander and its characters belong to TPTB at Panzer/Davis and their associated companies.
Rating: Slash
Summary: Poet, aka Mama Bear, asked for it and I thought what the heck it might be fun.
Beta-reader: Mofalle who made sure I wrote a credible Logan, who has beta this with a great deal of humour, and for giving me pillows for my sore behind. Anika who made sure I did justice to the Highlander characters. Now, Anika also deserves a great deal of credit for being patient with me, when I send her things out of order, but most of all for pointing out what should have been the obvious and in turn changing the direction of the story, adding character dimensions and lastly, corrupting me into writing more. After all this was supposed to be one snippet not three, but her input gave me food for thought. Thank you both.
Okay, right now the stories for this Methos/Wolverine series are as follows:
1. Healing Powers.
2. Remembering Your Touch.
3. As the World Turns.
4. A Watcher's Journal.
website: http://www.geocities.com/carlajanep/Erika/EEpart00.html
egroup: http://www.egroup.com/EvilChild
Archiving: Sure, just tell me where so I know where to send the other parts.

Joe took out his journal and opened it up to a new page. He'd been meaning to transfer all his records into the computer, but the nostalgia of writing in a journal had kept him from doing so. There was something about writing on paper, seeing the ink form the words as his hand moved across this page that; to him, at least, it felt as though it was a lover caressing a beloved. In a way, writing was a courtship between the writer and the yet-to-be-formed words.

He flipped through the pages, hoping that by rereading the past entries, he could better grasp the events that had occurred these past few months. He began by reading the accounts of the past summer.

Joe's Journal.
June 26th, 2000.

Like that is new.

Joe paused in his reading and remembered the day things had unfolded. Methos had finally turned up unexpectedly from god knew where. He had still been using his Adam Pierson persona. When he had jokingly asked Methos, "What stopped you from running?" Methos had raised his eyebrow and had said, "Who said I stopped?"

Indeed, Joe thought as he reflected back to that conversation, who had? Joe had assumed that whenever Methos felt threatened, he ran back to the safety of the Highlander or the Watchers. Joe was not naive enough to believe he'd been the only Watcher over the years who knew Methos's true identity or had protected him in the past. There were probably hundreds.

Hell, knowing the old bastard, he had probably created the organization just to have somewhere to hide.

Joe had to admit it had been nice having the old man around. He had even been waiting for that stubborn mule he sometimes referred to as the Highlander to wake up and realize he liked having Methos around. Then the unexpected had happened: Methos had fallen in love.

Joe's Journal.
June 28th, 2000.

It had been a quiet night at the bar, that is if one had not account for Methos's behaviour. His immortal friend had been teasing him relentlessly about having been in Atlantis, having swam with the mermaids and how he had served under Richard of Lionheart. Upon making that declaration, Methos had waggled his eyebrows and had said, "You know Richard's reputation. When I say 'served under' I do mean 'served under.'" Yes, his friend had been in fine form.

Joe reread the passage he had written that night. Methos had seemed to have relaxed and had overcome whatever had been bothering him.

When Methos had gone to the john, a stranger had approached the bar. He had seen the man glance toward Methos's direction but had assumed that the childish streak his friend had been displaying for everyone was the thing that probably had drawn his attention to Methos. It was only when the man had breathed in deeply, gazing about, that a part of Joe had suspected that the man could have been an immortal. He had seen MacLeod get that same look in his eyes when he caught sight of an immortal, but Methos had not reacted to the man's presence.

When he had inquired as to whether the man was all right, the stranger had dismissed him. Joe had been relieved to see him go.

After that, Joe had refused to serve Methos any more beer for fear it would dull his ability to sense other immortals. He had written a description of the stranger in his diary, following the instincts that had screamed he research the matter further.

Joe leaned in his chair, reflecting back on those early days. He flipped through some pages until he found the accounts for June thirtieth, the day he had officially met Logan. Joe admitted he had been busy. So busy in fact that he had put his encounter with the stranger in the back of his mind. It was only when he had tried to reach Methos that he had realized that his immortal friend had not dropped by for the past two days. Indeed, the last time Joe had seen Methos had been in the wee hours of that morning when his friend had helped him shut down the bar. Since then, the old Watcher had not heard from the immortal. Just as he had been about to call in some favours to help him locate the old fossil, Methos had entered the bar, laughing softly, talking to a man behind him.

It was the stranger whose presence had raised Joe's hackles. "What the hell are you doing with him?" he had asked the immortal, and Methos had actually blushed. Blushed. The last time he had seen Methos like this had been when Alexa ... no. A part of him could not believe that Methos could have fallen in love.

Joe had thought back to those quieter times and had found himself calling MacLeod.

Joe's Journal.
July 1st, 2000. MacLeod had arrived too late. By the time the Highlander's plane had touched down in the Seacouver airport, Methos had left with the other man, Logan, to places unknown. Road trip. Methos had gone on a road trip. He had called Joe in the early morning hours and had hurriedly explained that he would be heading out with the Hell's Angel. A part of Joe had hoped Methos had been joking, but Logan's rough and tumble look had seemed to Dawson's expert eye to fit right into the culture of the bike gang.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Joe had practically shouted at the old man. "Do you have a death wish?" But Methos had laughed and had said, "I am death."

Joe had hoped Methos would not lose his head, for he had wanted the simple pleasure of boxing his ears.

Joe's Journal.
July 15th, 2000. Methos had been gone for two weeks, and MacLeod had been getting desperate. The Watchers had not been able to find any information on the man, Logan. A brief sketch of him had been made and had been passed around the Watcher circle, but no such luck.

A young researcher had tied Logan to a report on possible immortals being diagnosed as mutants in the New York area where the council had believed immortal activity had been misinterpreted as mutant emergence. The report had mentioned Logan had been seen entering the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, an educational institution. Joe had doubted Logan was a teacher there.

He had even contacted the institution and had talked to a Professor Xavier who had seemed very interested in this Logan person but who had been unable to provide Joe with any further details.

The longer Methos had stayed away, the more concerned Joe and MacLeod had become, and even though they knew the old man could take care of himself, this had been the first time Methos had run away from home like a teenager.

Looking back at these notes, Joe found himself chuckling at the irony of a fifty-year-old mortal feeling parental over a man one hundred times his age. He wished he had kept in contact with the institution, but Methos's subsequent arrival and MacLeod's struggles with Logan had kept the Watcher occupied.

It really was amazing what two weeks could do to an Immortal. Methos had returned a changed man. He had looked ready to settle down. Hell, he had looked willing, if that submissive posturing was any indication.

Joe had always known Methos had swung both ways. He was a Watcher after all, and he would have had to be blind, deaf and dumb not to have noticed the signals the old man had continued to send to the Highlander. If only Kronos had not interfered, he had kept thinking during the time he had observed this strange courtship between Mac and Methos. But Byron, Ahriman and every other immortal of the week had kept MacLeod from really focusing on the immortal beside him. And it was not like Methos had been of any help, flirting with Byron, avoiding the Highlander for a year and then making a pest of himself to the point that MacLeod had escaped to the relative peacefulness of Paris.

He wished he could have smacked them both, but unfortunately with their immortal quickenings, they would have recovered and instead left Joe with a bruised hand.

Joe sighed deeply. During those early days, every time Logan had so much as glanced at Methos, the older immortal would start arching; his eyes would dilate, and he would quickly leave for the alley to be soon followed by his lover. And to make matters worse, now and then Joe's office had become a refuge of sorts for the two lovers, used when they had needed more privacy and were unable to control their urges. He had even once jokingly told Methos, in reference to the office, that if he kept this up, he would be charging Methos by the hour -- only to have him drop a twenty on the bar.

This coming from a man who never paid his bar tab.

Joe shook his head. He turned a few pages and again began to reread the passages.

Joe's Journal
August 16, 2000.

I wonder ... I wonder what would happen if I told Methos this theory of mine. Would he dump Logan and jump MacLeod? And what if I'm wrong? Would their friendship survive, or would I drive Methos further into Logan's arms?

Revisiting and rereading the passages, Joe had to admit he should have kept his mouth shut. He stared down at the letter that had arrived just hours ago. The letter that had started all of this for him.

Damn, he hadn't expected the old man to react that way. Cold bastard.

He could still remember the words he had exchanged with the older immortal the day he had informed Methos to his suspicion to his suspicion of MacLeod's growing interestÉ

"Joe?" he heard Methos call out to him.

"Back here." Joe was in the back of the bar, looking at his accounts.

"Hey, um ... Logan said you wanted to speak with me." Methos asked, looking around him, noticing the boxes and papers scattered about.

"Sit." For the first time in his life, Joe found himself speechless. What if he was wrong? What if he was right, Joe reminded himself, gathering up his courage. "The other day, I was talking with MacLeod..."

"I'm sorry, Joe." Methos told him compassionately.

"What?"

"I mean I know how much of a burden MacLeod can be and..."

"That's not it at all. What do you mean a burden?" Joe found himself asking.

"Boy scout tendencies, yadda, yadda, yadda. So who is he trying to save this time?" Methos asked, curiosity tinting his question.

"You!" Damn, he hadn't meant to say that, but Methos just stared at him.

"Look, Joe ... I don't know how he found out, but I swear I was going to tell you. It just kind of slipped my mind. I mean it's not like it happens every day, and it is not like you would believe me anyway. It's not my story to tell and ... and when he takes them out and lays them along my skin ... God. The sex is good. So I'm a kinky bastard; that really isn't a crime. How did he find out anyway?" asked Methos.

Joe just stared at him. "Takes what out?"

"His blade," Methos told him in a tone indicating that Joe ought to know this.

"His blade?" whispered Joe.

"Logan's blade. It's ye long." Methos informed the Watcher, spreading his hands over a foot apart. "What'd you think I was talking about?"

Just because he could accept that Methos was in a relationship, did not mean he needed to know the details. A foot long? Joe looked at the Immortal again and then quickly closed his eyes, hoping that he could forget the image that had sprung to mind. Now and then, having such an active imagination was not such a good thing.

"I'm talking about you and MacLeod." Joe told him once he was able to erase the image of Logan and Methos together in bed.

"Huh?" Another skill developed with old age, Joe thought sarcastically, the ability to look dumbfounded.

"Methos, surely you've noticed Mac's attention." At Methos's continued silence, Joe realized he hadn't.

"I've been kind of busy, Joe. Why don't you tell me." Methos's gaze was thoughtful.

"I was talking to MacLeod the other day, and we had an interesting conversation. He was surprised to learn you had chosen Logan to be your lover. Actually, that you had chosen a male lover and..."

Methos raised his hand and stopped Joe from embarrassing himself further. "Joe, I don't know what you're getting at, but believe me; once our boy scout received Kronos's quickening, he should have guessed I swung both ways. And Byron's quickening would have just reinforced that point. I'm sorry, Joe, but I am not going down that road."

"Methos, he did not know. I bet my Watcher's oath," Joe told him, ignoring the smirk on his friend's face. "He did not know."

Methos just glanced to the floor. Five minutes passed, but for Joe it seemed like eternity. "Okay, I'll grant you that. This is, after all, MacLeod we are talking about. The man who believes every woman is a damsel in distress. The man who can't differentiate between good and evil immortals, and before you ask, there are only one kind. They are all evil. So let us assume that even though I've been acting like a cat in heat for the past few years ... breathe through the nose, Joe ... MacLeod is one stubborn bastard who has been walking around with blinds on. What makes you think he is interested now?"

Joe didn't know if he could breathe after hearing that long speech, let alone talk. "I think MacLeod is realizing..."

"But you are not sure," stated Methos.

"No." Noticing that Methos was about to get up and leave, "but I am pretty certain."

Methos stood and made his way to the open door. "I like Logan, Joe. A lot, and I've never jumped from one lover's bed to another based on a hunch."

"Methos..." Joe started to protest.

"Maybe Mac is realizing he is attracted to me, but I am not about to push him in that direction." He paused and stared at the Watcher. "Nor should you. I mean it, Dawson. If this is how he feels, let him discover it. Believe me; MacLeod won't thank you if he feels he'd been pushed into it."

"What about Logan?" Joe asked, trying to get inside Methos's mind.

"What about him? The sex is good, Joe. Real good." Catching sight of Joe's incredulous expression, he continued. "Trust and loyalty work both ways. I can't demand that of Logan and give little in return. I know you don't like him, but I am not about to dump a lover just because you want me to jump MacLeod's bones."

"But if MacLeod offered?" Joe let the question hang in the air.

"Trust and loyalty, Joe. It is a two way street."

...With those words, Methos had left the office, but after that meeting, Joe had to admit they had ended up seeing less and less of Methos until eventually he had stopped coming by the bar.

Joe knew the older immortal traveled extensively with Logan, going through various road trips, but even MacLeod had thought, come winter, Methos would settle down in Seacouver. Instead, the old man had left with Logan for Alaska. Alaska in the dead of winter. Dawson would not have believed it, but here he was, holding a picture of a laughing snow-covered Methos, a dog sled behind him and two huskies by his side.

A note had been attached with the picture. The note simply read, "No regrets."

The End