Note: This is what I get staying up until almost 3 A.M. surfing the net for
Peter Wingfield pictures to placate my Muse, who has been tied to the
computer so that I can reach my goal of 100 XF fics. She says that she'll
do 100 and the novel I'm working on, and then she's gone, moving to Tahiti
or something for good. (Ok, this means I think I'm retiring from X-Files
fic for awhile except for working on the novel. My Highlander muse says
she'll do crossovers, but...well...you can see what XF/H leads to...)

Another note: I think this might fall under Doc's Dr. Seuss challenge, with
the title, and the one line later. Adam Pierson is the psedonym Methos, a
5,000 year old Immortal, takes in Highlander: The Series. I have no idea
what Goethe's first name was, so I made it up, as well as the date of the
book.

It's weird. Just try it.

***


"Would You, Could You..."
(An X-Files/Highlander "Ack, it's 3 A.M.!" Vignette)
by Amatia

	The slim, graceful man in the corner was wearing tan slacks, a
white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a vest a color that
could only be described as muted blueberry.

	Blueberry, Jeff Spender thought to himself. Blueberry is a pie, and
a pancake topping, but a vest color? He chuckled to himself. Muted
blueberry or not, the man in the corner was attractive, very attractive.
Touseled dark brown hair that looked silky soft, pale skin that looked as
though it would feel like velvet, and eyes that made a lie of his age fixed
in rapt attention on the book before him.

	Spender had never seen a man who's eyes looked so old.

	As he drank his coffee, he watched the man across the room. A hot
blush spread across his cheeks, and he hurriedly looked away as the
handsome object of his attention saw him staring. He didn't see the man
close his book, and stand, but after the waitress moved away after filling
his cup, the man was there, beside his table. "Pardon me," he said in an
accent that was hard to place, and vaguely British, "but I couldn't help
but notice you."

	"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare," Spender apologized, feeling
the blush deepen.

	"No apology necessary," the man said, and folded his long limbs
into the chair across from Spender, setting his books on the table. "Adam
Pierson."

	"Jeffrey Spender."

	"I hope you don't mind me coming over," Pierson said quickly.

	"No, not at all. Not at all." Spender felt a grin tug the corner of
his mouth. "I'm, uhm, rather glad you did." The book on the top of the pile
caught his eye, and he reached over to spin it around before he even knew
what he was doing. "Goethe's Faust," he said quietly. "It looks very old."

	"It's from 1854. As far as books go, it's getting up there."

	"It's in amazing condition," Spender exclaimed, then let the grin
claim his mouth. "I was an English minor, sorry. I'm fascinated with
antique books."

	Pierson's hand brushed his as he reached to open the cover of the
book, and Spender noted with some satisfaction - as well as a small sweep
of arousal - that the other man's skin did feel like velvet. "It was given
to the owner before me by Goethe himself. There's an inscription here." His
long finger traced the outline of the old ink script. "It's fascinated me
for a long time."

	"Unfortunately for me, I can't read German," Spender chuckled.

	"I'll translate it for you," Pierson said with an electric smile
that warmed Spender to the core. This man radiated energy, it practically
hummed around him. "'Dearest Johannes - I hope this finds you well enough
to take the time to browse my latest creation. Give my best to all those
you love, and do remember to write to me occassionally. Warmest regards,
W.'." Pierson flashed the electric grin again. "It sounds much better in
German," he laughed. "English doesn't do Goethe justice."

	"It must have cost a fortune," Spender murmured. "And you carry it
around with you, I'm floored!"

	Pierson leaned back in his chair, singalling the waitress for
coffee. "Some things are worth the price, my new friend. Very worth the
price," he said seriously. Then his tome lightened. "It didn't set me back
very much, I found it at a secondhand bookshop in Boston, and my knowledge
of German was enough to impress the kindly old woman who ran the place to
knock a bit off. And as far as carrying it with me..." he shrugged. "Why
spend the money if you're not going to enjoy the purchase? I'll tell you
this, Jeffrey Spender. Life is much to short for most people. Enjoy what
you have, and enjoy what you gain. But never buy something that you can't
enjoy because it's locked up in a glass case to avoid getting dust between
the pages."

	 Spender knew then and there that there was much, much more to this
man than met the eye. There were things hidden behind those tired eyes,
things so terrible that would never be discussed with anyone. "Adam...how
old are you?"

	The question earned him a small, wise smile. "Older than I appear,
young Jeffrey. Much older."

	"Tell me this then - does age bring wisdom?" he couldn't help but ask.

	Pierson regarded him silently for a moment, eyes that alternated
between light and dark sweeping over the younger man. "Age brings regret,"
he said finally. "And regret brings with it all those other choices you
could have made, and a better understanding of them. I guess that in a way
it could be called wisdon. But wisdom isn't something to strive for, Jeff.
Knowledge, yes. Wisdom...don't ever reach for it, because you will suffer
too much along the way."

	"But isn't it worth it?"

	"No."

	"No?"

	"I think you confuse wisdom and knowledge, my friend. There is an
ocean of difference. The experiences that eventually lead to this wisdom
you ask about are hard ones. Things that could have been avoided. And don't
confuse not having wisdom with being ignorant. Being ignorant leads to the
painful experiences that lead to wisdom. Not being ignorant leads to
knowledge, and of the two - wisdom and knowledge - knowledge is the better
sister." Pierson sipped his coffee after adding so much cream it was almost
white.

	"So these learning experiences that are supposed to make us better
people - it's all a crock of shit?" Spender asked.

	"Bluntly put, yes. You see, Jeff, these learning experiences for
some aren't as painful as the experiences of others. Some people go through
their entire lives without regret. For a long time, I myself had no regret.
But I also had no knowledge, and that made the difference. For regret
itself is a great teacher, but a painful one because it's after the fact.
And if you can, though knowledge, learn to make the right choices  - you
save yourself the regret, the pain, the haunting feeling that you could
have made a different, better decision."

	Spender had the feeling that the gorgeous man across from him had
made more made decisions than could be counted. "Are you trying to make up
for it?" he asked.

	"For what?"

	"The bad decisions you've made."

	"I guess you could say I am," Pierson replied. "Here, Jeff, answer
me this. If you'd done a terrible thing, wouldn't you try to make up for
it? And if you could go back, and undo what you'd done, would you? Could
you, even?"

	"I guess it would depend on what it was I'd done," Spender replied
slowly. "But I've got to ask, Adam. If you knew that you'd have to pay for
what you did, then why'd you do it?"

	Pierson's eyes met Spender's, and one those grins that didn't have
anything to do with laughter quirked the corner of his mouth. "Because at
the time, the alternative was unthinkable."

	They stared at each other for a moment, then Pierson looked away
suddenly, towards the door where a man with long dark hair had entered the
cafe, his eyes searching the crowd. Spotting Pierson, he waved, and started
making his way towards them. Spender had the feeling that the two men had
business that they didn't want him around for. Before Pierson could look
back from the long haired man, Spender had stood. And with one lingering
look at the beautiful man who'd made him think it was time to reevaluate
his life, he disappeared into the crowd.

	*end*