The Paris Connection
Part 2

* * * *

     "Are they using couches for closets these days at the Georges V?" Reyanna asked, plucking articles of Richie's clothing off the sofa and pushing them into his arms.
     "Excuse me, but I got in late last night and all I wanted to do was get to sleep," he said sharply, taking the bundle to his room.
     Reyanna's eyes followed the trail of clothes that led to the bedroom opposite hers.  "And those were in case you lost your way, right?"  She turned and went into her own room to unpack, abandoning Richie to seethe in silence.
     About an hour later, after he had cooled off a bit, he went to ask her what she wanted to order for lunch only to discover her sprawled across the bed, fast asleep.  Richie picked up an extra blanket from the closet and placed it gently across her before retreating to the parlour area of the suite.
     By the time Reyanna woke up from her nap, the sun had gone down, and her stomach was rumbling.  She tottered out of her bedroom, dragging the still-warm coverlet and sat down on the sofa next to Richie, who was watching T.V.
     "Hi," she said, smiling sleepily at him.
     "Hi yourself.  Sleep okay?"  He observed her rumpled hair and clothes, amazed that she could look fantastic even in a sweatshirt and boxers.
     "Yeah, I did, thanks.  What are we having for dinner?"
     "I was going to suggest going out, but you look a bit too zoned."
     Reyanna nodded and tucked the blanket around herself.
     "So-o...how 'bout room service?  The food here is great."
     "Okay," she agreed, watching T.V. as he dialed downstairs.
     "What do you want?" Richie asked while the phone rang.
     "Potato soup and a grilled cheese, if they have it," she replied, trying to translate the French version of "Wheel of Fortune.  "Oh, and a glass of iced tea."
     "You got it."  When his call was answered, Richie gave her order and asked for a cheeseburger, fries and a Coke for himself.
     Reyanna, meanwhile, had taken the remote from him, unnoticed, and was flipping through the channels.
     "Hey! I was watching that!" he protested, hanging up the phone.
     "It went off!  It's my turn to watch something.  You've had the television all to yourself."
     "You were asleep!"
     "Now I'm awake." She kept flipping.
     "Wait, go back.  What was that?"
     She clicked back to the previous channel. Drew Barrymore in a lousy blond wig was making popcorn on a stove on the screen.  
     "Isn't this Scream?"
     "Yeah, it's an awesome flick.  Let's watch it."
     "I dunno, Richie..." Reyanna said nervously.
     "What's the matter?  Scared?" he grinned evilly and wiggled his fingers up her arm.
     She pulled away with a laugh.
     "No.  Okay, fine, we'll watch "Scream, Mr. Bogeyman." Reyanna returned the hand wiggle up his arm.
     "If you get scared, I'll hold you," he teased, secretly hoping she'd jump in his lap during a frightening scene.
     "I'll bet you would," she responded, wondering if she should take him up on the offer.
     They watched the movie, each jumping when, a little while later, room service knocked on the door.  Richie wheeled the tray over after tipping the waiter and set out the covered dishes on the coffee table.
     "What'd I miss?" he asked.
     "Nothing."
     "Good."  He lifted the lids and they sat on the floor to reach the table better.
     The half hour that followed was silent except for the sounds of eating and the movie.
     "So, who do you think the killer is?" Richie inquired three-quarters of the way through the film.
     "I think it's either the boyfriend, the father, or the deputy.  Or maybe it's the reporter." Reyanna answered.
     "Courtney Cox?  No way!  She's too much of a babe to kill anybody."
     "You chauvinist pig!"  She picked up one of his uneaten french fries and threw it at him.
     "I resemble that remark!" he joked, munching on the 'ammo.'
     "Speaking of resembling..." she commented, "has anyone ever told you that you look like that high school guy Courtney slept with on 'Friends'?"
     "Yeah,  But I'm much cuter."
     Reyanna rolled her eyes.  "Men..." she muttered, grinning.
     "That's me, the 'Studlander'."  He flexed an arm.
     She made a "W" with her fingers to say "Whatever!"
     "Are you gonna watch the movie, or what?" he demanded.
     "I'm watching!"  She moved back onto the couch, Richie following, and clutched a pillow to herself.  A few of the scenes had her cringing and squinching her eyes slightly, to Richie's great glee, but she got through the movie without screaming.  
     "How come you didn't get freaked out?" she asked Richie as the credits rolled later.
     "Because I'm a manly man," he said in a deep voice, "And because I've seen the movie before."
     Reyanna promptly hit him with her pillow.
     The phone jangled suddenly and she threw herself into his arms, her mind jumping back to the movie killer's M.O. of calling his victims and playing a trivia game with them before he struck.
     "Hello?" Richie asked, holding the shaking Reyanna.   He listened for a few moments then covered the mouthpiece and said, "He wants to know if we want to play a game."
     "Richie!" she hissed in annoyance.  "Who is it?"
     He laughed.  "It's Morgan.  She's just calling to see if you're settled in okay."  He handed the phone to her.
     "Morgan?  Hi...yes, we're fine.  We just finished dinner a bit ago...see you tomorrow...okay, bye."  
     She gave the phone back and Richie replaced it in it's cradle.
     "Comfy?" he asked the girl who still sat in his lap with her arms around him.
     "What? Oh." She got out of his embrace and stood up.  "Sorry, I forgot myself for a moment there."
     "I didn't mind," he replied honestly.
     She smiled, at a loss for words, and sat back down.
     "I've been wondering," Richie began.
     "Oh, God...He's been wondering.  Now we're in for it."
     He grimaced.  "Ha Ha.  Seriously, though.  How did you and Morgan get together?"
     "She's an old friend of my family's.  Morgan was the one who prompted me to pursue an art career.  When I was a teenager, we used to take road trips to Baltimore.  There's this fantastic mall by the bay that we used to go to.  She would go to a fudge shop there and buy slices of peanut butter fudge to eat on the way home.  That stuff was to die for..."
     "I can imagine.  I know an ice cream shop on the Ile St. Louis that has the best ice cream in the world."
     "Anyway, I went to DePaul University in Chicago and got my Arts degree.  Morgan hired me to decorate her fencing studio, and that's how I got here."
     "Wow," he said, impressed.  "How old are you?"
     "I turn twenty-two in March.  So, what about you, Richie?  How old are you and what's your life story?  She shifted to face him better.
     "I'm twenty-two, but my story's not as great as yours, Reyanna."
     "Tell it anyway.  I'd like to hear it."
     "Well, I've been in the Seacouver foster system since my foster mom, Emily, died when I was five."
     Reyanna made an apologetic noise.
     "Then one night in August of 1992, I broke into this antique shop.  I have to tell you that I'm an ex-thief with a hell of a juvie record."
     "You probably had a valid reason for being that way."
     "You don't think less of me because of it?"
     "No."
     "Oh.  I appreciate that."
     She nodded her head and he continued.
     "It was Mac's shop that I broke into - his and his girlfriend, Tessa's.  I got busted, but Mac didn't press charges and actually hired me to be a clerk in the store.  They asked me to move in with them and I later became manager of Mac's dojo back in the states.
     "What happened to Tessa and the antique shop?" Reyanna asked.
     Richie frowned at the memory.  "She was killed in a mugging and Mac had me sell the store.  We moved back to Paris for a while after that because we buried her here."
     "I'm sorry," she reached out and took his hand.
     "Me, too.  She was a great lady.  She was an artist, too."
     "You and Duncan must have loved her very much."
     "We did.  You know, they met in Paris.  She gave tours on the Seine and Mac jumped onto her boat and managed to get her to go out with him."
     "That's amazing!" She laughed.
     "That's Mac.  He's a great guy."
     "What's this dojo like?"
     "It's ok.  It's just a place to work out, do martial arts, a little swordfighting."
     "Swordfighting?  Really?"
     "Yeah, Mac taught me how to."
     "Cool.  I asked Morgan to teach me when I found out she was interested in that sort of thing.  I'm not stupendous, but I'm not bad."
     "Is she going to continue to teach you here?"
     "When we get the time, yes.  The studio's going to take a lot of attention to get it ready."
     "No doubt.  The dojo has me going all day, sometimes, and I didn't even do the furnishings.  I just keep it cleaned and make sure the books are in order.  I have my own rapier, by the way."
     "May I see it?"  Reyanna's eyes brightened.
     "Sure, follow me."
     They got up from the couch and walked into his room where Richie retrieved it from next to the bed.
     "I take it everywhere with me," he explained, drawing it out of its sheath and handing it to her.
     "I would.  It's beautiful.  Deadly, but beautiful." She looked at him for a moment.  "It's very much like you."
     Richie stared at her.  After a few speeding heartbeats, he thanked her.
     "I'm merely being truthful."  She gave him back the weapon and he restored it to its sheath and resting place.
     They went back into the living room.
     "I think I'm going to turn in," Reyanna told him, retrieving her blanket from the couch, "Goodnight Richie."
     "'Night, Reyanna."
     She turned away and went into her room, shutting the door behind her.
     Richie expelled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and sat back on the couch, mulling over the evening's events.  He put the dishes back on the cart and wheeled it out into the hallway a few moments later.  He tiptoed around until it was his own bedtime, looking in on Reyanna once more, with a feeling of protectiveness tugging at his heart.

* * * *

     "Do you have any idea what we're all supposed to do today?" Reyanna asked, stepping out of her room, looking highly refreshed by a good night's sleep and a nice hot shower.
     "I called Mac and he said that the signing has been rescheduled for tomorrow," Richie answered, eating his breakfast and motioning for her to help herself to the food laid out before them.  "You and the other ladies are supposed to go shopping for dresses to wear to an anniversary party on Saturday."
     "Aren't you guys attending the party?" she wanted to know, reaching for a bowl of strawberries.
     "Well, Mac's going with you, but he doesn't need to go shopping.  He already owns who knows how many tuxes.
     "Isn't he special?" she teased, though crestfallen that Richie wasn't going to the party. "What about shopping?  Will you both be joining us?"
     "I guess we could.  How 'bout we head over to the barge and find out exactly what's going on?" He stood up and retrieved their jackets from a closet.
     "That sounds like a plan."
     "Would you rather take the Mercedes or my motorbike?" Richie asked, holding the door open for her.
     "Oh, that's right, you race.  Sure, why not?  I've never been on a bike before."
     "Great!" He dashed back inside and retrieved his helmet and the spare he kept for emergencies.  "Your chapeau."
     "Merci," she responded as she took the helmet.
     "You're learning!" he joked, shutting the door and walking down the hall with her.
     "Why aren't you going to the party?" Reyanna asked, as they entered the elevator.
     "I have races that afternoon and won't have time to party.  But, hey, you guys'll have fun without me."
     Reyanna had no idea what to say as they reached the garage and climbed on the bike.

* * * *

     "You trusted him and his bike to get you here safely?  And after that car ride from the airport!" Amanda called from the deck as they drove up.  "You must be brave."
     "Well, it was adventurous to say the least, but he was very careful," Reyanna answered, getting off the bike and taking her helmet off.  "I felt safe the whole way here."
     The two walked onto the barge, Richie pretending to pluck bugs from Reyanna's leather jacket.  He stopped abruptly, as did Amanda, as a Buzz echoed through them, and the sound of an approaching car grew louder.  Duncan and Morgana came above just as the vehicle stopped.
     "Adam!" MacLeod called, waving at the man walking away from the dark gray Volvo station wagon, "Everyone, meet Adam Pierson."
     The use of the Immortal's pseudonym immediately signalled to those who knew Methos to keep quiet about his true identity.
     "Well, Amanda and Richie already know me," said Methos, smiling at the group.  "But I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting these two."  
     He shook hands with Reyanna before turning to the other redhead.  "I believe you and I share a mutual acquaintance," he suggested, holding Morgana's hand longer than necessary.
     "I'm Morgana Knightwood and this is Reyanna McTaggert."  Morgan stared up at him, trying to control the sudden rush of hormones running rampant through her body.
     Methos himself was having the same problem, something he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Alexa's death.
     Reyanna left the two love birds to stare at each other in private and quietly asked Duncan if they'd be leaving soon.
     "Yes, we are.  You don't mind if I ask Adam to join us, do you?" he made it a group question to which everyone agreed.  "Adam, if you're through holding Morgana's hand, would you like to go shopping with us?"
     "Is it for the party?" Methos asked, thinking that he'd be a little more enthusiastic about going if this lovely lady would be there.
     "In a way," said Morgana.  "We women are in need of something suitable to wear."
     "Splendid!  I was on my way to see how my tuxedo was coming along." Methos replied. "Would you care to ride with me, Ms. Knightwood?" he offered Morgan his arm.
     "I don't even know you," she protested.
     "You will if you spend some time with me.  I promise, I'm a nice guy."
     "I can vouch for him," Duncan said as Morgana looked at him questioningly.
     She relented with a shy smile and followed Methos to his car.  "So we'll meet you all at Dior's in a half hour or so?" she confirmed with the group.
     "We'll be there," Amanda replied, smiling at the bemused expression on Morgan's face.
     "He's good," Richie said, with eyebrows raised, as the Volvo sped off.

* * * *

     "Oooh, look at that dress," Amanda sighed as they walked past one of Paris' many
expensive boutiques on the Champs Elysees.
     "Let's go in."  MacLeod escorted her inside, followed by the other members of their party.
     "Morgan, go look at that silver one," Reyanna said, pointing to a silver sheath with a Marilyn Monroe neckline.  She herself was admiring a black velvet and white satin gown.
     "Why don't you guys sit down while we go try these on, hmm?" Morgana said, walking to the dressing rooms with a clerk who was helping the women with their purchases.
     The three men exchanged glances before sitting down to wait in a trio of plush chairs. The delay wasn't long.
     "Ta-dah!" came Amanda's voice, before she flounced out in a crimson velvet slip dress and a huge black feather boa.
     Compliments the guys continued as Morgana and Reyanna appeared.
     "Beautiful," Methos said, standing to speak to Morgan.  "You look exquisite."
     "Thank you."
     "What do you think?" Reyanna asked Richie shyly.
     "Wow.  I mean - you look great."
     She blushed.
     A sales clerk chose that moment to ask if they were ready to buy or were still looking.
     "Maybe a few more frocks" Morgana said.
     "Just a few," Reyanna agreed, already leaving for the dressing rooms.
     "Gentlemen," said Methos, once they were along, "we may be here for a while."
     "I'm not complaining," Richie answered, leaning back and threading his fingers to cradle his head.
     "You wouldn't complain if they were wearing sack cloth," Duncan teased with a cheeky smile.
     Richie only laughed quietly.  "Neither would you."
     The other two had to concur.
     The following dresses were gorgeous and left the men drooling over the simple fashion show.  After working their way through almost every gown available, the women settled on the first dresses they had tried.  And, thanks to the seemingly bottomless bank accounts of all present, money was no object.

* * * *

     "Something's wrong with this," Reyanna said, sitting at an intimately small table at a chocolate shop called La Maison du Chocolate and sipping at a cup of hot cocoa.
     "What's that?" Richie asked, from his seat across the table.
     "We've just gone out and purchased some rather form-fitting dresses--"
     "That look incredible," he broke in with a leer.
     "And we're all here eating chocolate," she finished, laughing over his statement.
     "Yes, we must maintain our figures," Richie said airily, striking a modeling pose that made Reyanna giggle.
     At the next table, Morgana and Methos seemed to be staring at each other more often than talking.
     "Can I interest you in having dinner with me tomorrow night?" Methos asked, stirring a cup of chocolate-flavored coffee.
     "I might be persuaded," Morgan returned coyly while biting into a piece of peanut-butter fudge.
     "And how might I go about doing that?" he inquired.
     "Every woman wants to be courted.  Start there."
     "Why is it every female I meet has this thing for chivalry?" Methos rolled his eyes upward as if asking for Divine Intervention.
     "It makes us feel appreciated.  Nothing outrageous, Adam - a few flowers, compliments, et cetera.  Maybe even poetry," she added mischievously.
     "Poetry?  Me?"  He was incredulous.  "You might not like what I come up with.  I'm not much of a poet."
     "We'll see.  And courting isn't always about chivalry.  Sometimes it's just being an impromptu romantic."
     "What in the world does that mean?"
     "Spur-of-the-moment romance.  Such as surprising a person with a horse-drawn carriage for no reason other than to make them  smile."
     Methos remembered the time he had bought plane tickets to Paris for Alexa simply because she had mentioned how badly she wanted to visit there. The sudden flash of his lost love caught him off guard, but he handled it without any outward show of emotion.  Alexa was not a subject to be discussed in a warm chocolate shop with such a new acquaintance.
     When they were through with their snacks, everyone decided to go their separate ways.
     Duncan and Amanda went back to the barge for some quiet time, Methos and Morgan decided to visit the Gallerie Stadler, an abstract art museum on the Rue de Seine, and Reyanna finally agreed to let Richie take her on a tour of the city.
     "We could go to Peré la Chaise and see Oscar Wilde's grave," Richie offered, before putting on his helmet.
     "I'd rather see Jim Morrison's, if you don't mind," Reyanna answered uncertainly.
     He grinned as he sat on the bike.  "As you wish."
     She sat behind him, putting on her own helmet and wrapping her arms around his waist as they roared off.
     "I told you she'd be good for him," Amanda said to Duncan as they watched the young couple leave.  
     Morgana and Methos stood next to them, holding their purchases and Reyanna's for safekeeping.  They were all to meet back at the barge for dinner.
     "You two have fun," Morgan teased as Amanda and Duncan got into the low black sports car.
     "We'll certainly try," MacLeod replied, starting the engine and pulling away.

* * * *