Have a snippet of what me and my on-again, off-again co-author were working on yesterday.

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AU: NOS
Word Count: 1721
Characters: Methos, Zoya Selivestrova, Vlad Tepes

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Methos doesn’t usually bother doing undergraduate work for his various degrees. He knows most of the information already, and it’s simple enough to slip himself into a graduate program and get the degree he’s really after that way. This time, however, he’s doing things the long way around. It’s been nearly two hundred years since last he practiced medicine, and almost as long since he took a degree in anything but the softer sciences. He needs the background information again – the chemistry, the biology, the anatomy – all of it made new by two centuries of discovery that have changed the world more than Methos would ever have dreamed possible before it actually happened.

It means letting his hair get a little too long, looking around a little wide-eyed, dressing like one of the children he’s pretending to be. He’s not sure how old he was when he first died, but with care, he can look anywhere from his early twenties to his mid thirties, depending on how he cuts his hair, how he holds himself, the clothes he puts on. Right now, he’s playing as young as he can, so as not to stand out too much from the children all around him.

Fortunately, the university he’s chosen doesn’t require its undergraduates to live on campus. Methos has shared living quarters before, but he isn’t even remotely interested in inhabiting the dormitories. He requires more privacy than that, both to keep his sanity and to hide his weapons. Instead, he’s found himself a loft in one of the more bohemian parts of the city, where the rent is reasonable and crime is relatively low. It’s only ten blocks from campus, it suits him perfectly, and he wishes he were there right now.

If he were, he wouldn’t be looking around for a doorway to duck into while the dual signature of two approaching Immortals prickles uncomfortably along the back of his neck. When he catches a glimpse of them, he’s tempted to run. It can’t be coincidence that they’ve stumbled across him. Methos doesn’t believe in that sort of coincidence, especially in this case.

The woman was Silas’s student once – and the man was Kronos’s. Even if by some miracle they’re not here for him, it’s ominous to see the

pair of them together – and now that the first rush of adrenaline has passed, Methos is cataloguing details that suggest that perhaps the miraculous is possible after all. Both of them are dressed to blend in, just as he is, and both are carrying books. It’s not cool enough yet for long coats to pass without calling undue attention to themselves, so Methos is limited to a gun at the small of his back, a second at his ankle, and a knife up his sleeve that’s been carefully smeared with poison. Hopefully, he won’t have to use any of it.

Zoya had been reluctant to leave the forest her papa had once called home, but Vlad is one of the few people she’s willing to leave it for. Especially since he’s paying for the entire experience, including the off-campus apartment with studio space nearby they can use for sparring. Shared, but neither has really lived a life where privacy is a given, and with each having their own bedroom, the rest doesn’t matter.

The feeling of another Immortal crawling over her skin makes Zoya tighten her grip on her books, wishing she’d been able to carry more than the small hand-ax she has secured under her backpack and the knife in her boot.

Beside her, Vlad makes a small noise of irritation, and shifts his books to the arm closer to her. The knife in his hand looks like barely anything, but Zoya has little doubt it’s effective against all but the oldest Immortals, and perhaps even them. They don’t need to have a disruption now, when they’re just settling into new lives.

“If whoever it is causes trouble, I’d rather sacrifice Ivan than you, my friend.” Vlad keeps his voice low so they’re not overheard, and Zoya lets a small smile curl her lips.

“Better to take care of things permanently and not sacrifice either of our lives, if they intend to make a Challenge.” Zoya has no qualms about throwing the rules about such things being one on one out the window if it means getting rid of a head-hunter. The only rule any of her elders have seen as sacrosanct is that about fighting on Holy Ground, after all.

Vlad chuckles, and tilts his head, even as he’s looking around. Trying to find the other Immortal just as she is, and both hoping the other will be reasonable.

They haven’t spotted him yet, and Methos thinks fast. He badly needs to find out why they’re here. If they’ve come for him, it will be time to discreetly exit, stage left. If, on the other hand, they’re carrying books for more than the sake of blending in, they might not be interested in trouble. In that case, it’s best to come across as harmless, young, nothing that would tempt anyone who wasn’t already headhunting. All of this flashes through his mind in a split second, and Methos lets his eyes widen, lets himself look around nervously. They spot him just as his glance falls on them a second time, and with a visible attempt at steeling himself and one last glance around, Methos squares his shoulders and crosses the square to meet them.

“I’m not interested in anything but my classes,” he says once he reaches them. “If you don’t come after me, I’ll extend you the same courtesy.”

The first words out of the other Immortal’s mouth are reassuring, though Zoya isn’t entirely certain she can take them at face value yet. The face is as unfamiliar as the quickening, and not everyone is blunt or obvious about their headhunting.

“We are only here to learn.” Vlad answers for them both, and Zoya can see he’s already returned his knife to the sheath in his sleeve. “I am Ivan Viovode, my friend is Zoya Silasdottir. What is your name?”

Zoya knows it’s unlikely the other Immortal will think there’s anything important to the surname she’s taken for this lifetime, but then, there’s unlikely to be many who would. Not as young as this one gives the impression of being.

“Alex. Alex Dawson.” Joe, now retired, had been good enough to allow Methos to list him as the father for Methos’s current identity. It gave Alex an added layer of security just in case someone came looking. Methos didn’t have anyone particular in mind, but then, it never hurts to take extra precautions and quite frequently hurts not to. He gives Ivan and Zoya a slightly nervous smile. “It’s nice to meet you both.” He doesn’t offer to shake hands. “You’re both enrolled here, then? What are you studying?”

“Why else would we be here?” Zoya shrugs, glancing around the square to keep an eye out for anyone watching them. Or any other possible danger. “And I learn what they offer to teach. It doesn’t matter, so long as the money is there to afford it.”

“Which it will be for as long as you want, ursulețul.” Vlad smiles a little, studying Alex. “I am refreshing my knowledge of computers; it changes so swiftly that sometimes it is good to catch up in a place like this, rather than in the world.”

Zoya doubts he’s here simply for the sake of learning in a school – but she knows that a college campus is a good place to hide, when establishing a new life. No one really looks to anything before that, these days, especially if one has a good degree.

“I’m pre-med.” Methos shrugs. “I thought about taking computer science instead, but there’s just something about the thought of being a doctor that appeals to me. Maybe it’s because I know I’m going to end up killing people someday. It sort of balances the scale, I suppose.”

“Even we die, whether or not you chose to take anyone’s head.” Zoya shrugs, and tilts her head toward the building she and Vlad had been walking to before running into Alex. “We should get to class. If you want to talk later, we have a studio a few blocks from campus. A better place to talk than a coffee shop where you have too many curious ears.”

“I should get going too,” Methos admits. The square is starting to empty as most of the students make their way into one of the buildings. “It was a pleasure to meet you; I’m sure we’ll run into one another again.” He doesn’t reference Zoya’s invitation, either to accept it or to decline; instead, he turns on his heel and hurries off. He hasn’t decided yet whether or not he’s going to associate with them. Were Kronos and Silas still alive, he’d likely have disappeared, just in case the former decided to stop by. Now, though, there’s really no way as things stand for them to tie him to their teachers at all, much less to figure out that he was responsible for their deaths, or who he really is. That said, it might be best to cultivate a relationship with them. The more Immortals with Immortal friends, the less hold the Game will have over them. That alone is almost enough to make up Methos’s mind. He has many regrets, but allowing the Game to spread beyond himself and his brothers is one of his greatest.

Wrenching his thoughts away from it with an effort, Methos refocuses his attention on the here and now. He doesn’t have to make up his mind about Ivan and Zoya right away, but he will have to do it soon. Theirs is not a large university.

Zoya shifts her books to her other arm as Vlad does the same, and to most, it would look like friends or more-than-friends just holding hands. It’s easier to talk without having to use voices this way, tapping out words and phrases in the short-hand they’ve used over the last two decades. Alex is interesting, and it would be nice to have another Immortal who they don’t have to watch their backs around.