Watershed
A sequel to Revelations
"Up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road,
You stand there and agonise, till your agony's your heaviest load"
'Watershed', by Indigo Girls
Adam Pierson rubbed at his eyes as he tried to concentrate on his research. He'd only written about 40 words in the past hour. Standing, he stretched, yawned and wandered over to the window of his apartment. Unfortunately, the cool early evening air did little to improve his mood and concentration. Turning on his heel he marched into the kitchen and grabbed a can of beer from the well-stocked fridge. Downing half of it in one go, he went back into the living room, stared at the computer screen and sighed again. He finished his beer, and, in both an attempt to ease his tension and a sudden fit of anger at his situation, hurled the empty can at the computer screen. It bounced harmlessly off the machine. Adam cursed both it and the world in general, slumped back into his chair and rubbed at his face again. What the Hell was he doing, he wondered. He had more important things to worry about than this bloody report. As if the Watchers even cared about it after all that had happened!
Adam Pierson had big problems. The first of which, which was bad enough for anyone, was that he didn't exist. No, really. He was a creation of a man who had lived much, much longer than the 32 years that he was supposed to be. A man who sometimes got so caught up pretending that he really was Adam that he began to think of himself in the third person. The worst thing was that Methos, for that was the man's name, liked Adam. He was quiet, easy-going, uncomplicated. If it wasn't for the poor pay of a grad student turned Watcher he'd be quite happy. But now, this had happened. And this hadn't blown over as he'd hoped it would. As he'd assumed it had. Damn it! Why, after 5000 years, did he still bother to assume anything? He must be the world's most cynical optimist at times, he mused. Admittedly, he'd other things on his mind, but now that the immediate danger was over, he was left with this; something just as dangerous if he couldn't work out a solution in time. That, of course, brought Adam to the second problem. That was the whole other problem. He was about 99.99% sure that the Watchers knew that he was Immortal, and that many suspected that he might be Methos.
Damn it! He should have known that there would have been some aftermath from the whole Ahriman disaster. But it was only now, three months after the defeat of the demon, that the Watchers appeared to be watching him. After it had seemed to be finally blown over, after he'd finally stopped worrying every minute of every day that the cosmos was playing a joke on him and that he and Duncan hadn't really defeated Ahriman for the next thousand years. Hell, he had even been beginning to think he had a future in Seacouver, maybe even a future with Duncan. Things had been looking up. And then irony had struck with its usual twisted bitterness. And to think that he was usually irony's biggest fan. It was the old lull-them-into-a- false-sense-of security-and-then-once-they-think-they've-recovered-from-one- problem-hit-them with-the-next trick. It was clever. It was effective. It was bloody annoying, and trying to find a solution was driving Methos mad.
Oh, it was true that he'd tried to change identities, tried to get rid of Adam Pierson. When he'd been forced to kill Richie Ryan, he was sure that the Watchers would have had had him pin-pointed as an Immortal. In the wake of Duncan and Joe's grief, he'd quickly taken off, and briefly become Adrian Adams. But, when he'd forced himself to return to Seacouver, to his friends and to the truth about his past, he had realised it had been a very half-hearted attempt. Everyone still knew him as Adam. At the time, he hadn't really minded. Had other things to worry about. Then had come Joe's temptation. Ahriman had indeed been clever when he'd tested Joe Dawson. Through the poor mortal, he'd managed to hurt Joe, Duncan, and Methos. Not even someone as strong and kind as Joe had been able to resist temptation completely. It was a cruel joke, to offer the one thing Joe wanted more than anything in his life - legs, against the things that meant more to him than anything else in life – his friendship with Duncan and Methos, the honour and goodness of Duncan and the safety of Methos.
Thinking of Joe bought a wave of grief over him. He was going to miss the Watcher very much. He was one person from his recent lifetimes who knew who he really was, and came who close to accepting him as himself. Now, he was gone. It was up to him and Duncan to keep his memory alive. The man had been one of the best.
In addition, whilst he had been alive, Joe had managed to keep his identity secret, even after he had unwittingly told some fellow watchers who he was. After the Watchers had returned to their right minds, Joe had somehow been able to persuade them that he had been mistaken. But how many had truly believed that? The truth was also in Joe's own journals, and Methos had a feeling that whoever in the Watchers had access to those journals was not impressed. He knew he had a watcher, although it wasn't too difficult to lose him every so often. Part of him felt like some exhibit in a museum. Come see the all-wise 5000 year-old man, as he'd once joked to Joe. And the Watchers were flocking to see. The other part of him just felt vulnerable. Even if they didn't know he was actually Methos, or if they just suspected, it wouldn't be long until they knew for sure, if he wasn't careful. It was bad enough being pegged as an Immortal. And one who was associated with Mac. Even if only a few really knew who he was, that number would surely grow. It was getting too dangerous. And he was slowly being forced to a decision. Adam Pierson would have to die. Die permanently, horribly, bloodily, probably publicly, so that even if some thought Methos was still alive, they'd never find him. It was a plan. Not a perfect plan. For one thing, he suddenly realised, it would mean leaving Mac. At least for a couple of lifetimes. To be associated with him was too high profile and he would soon be noticed again. It was a damn shame. He liked Adam. He liked being Adam.
Suddenly he felt the buzz of an approaching Immortal. Swearing and grabbing his sword, he rushed out of the door of apartment. He hoped it wasn't a challenge, but thought it probably was. That was another thing. Since this all blew up, he'd had more challenges than in the past decade. He only made it down one floor before he crashed into another person, and the source of the buzz.
"Mac!"
"Methos. Going somewhere?"
"It's only you?" he glanced around, wearily.
"Yeah, I was just coming up to your place…"
"Right. Well, come on, then".
Mac gave him a puzzled look but said nothing and just followed him.
Slamming the door behind him, Methos quickly turned off the computer and went to grab his friend a beer. Duncan made himself comfortable on the sofa, and Methos had to smirk at how much the Scot was starting to behave like him.
"So, what can I do for you, Mac?"
Duncan shrugged. "Do I need an excuse to come see you? I just thought you might want to grab some dinner… Is – is something wrong?"
"No. Not really. I just have a few things on my mind…" He was unwilling to tell Mac about his plans until he had them finalised. If at all. But, he could just imagine Duncan's reaction if he didn't tell him. He wasn't sure what would be worse. Duncan thinking him dead, or having to tell him he was leaving. For good. He shook such thoughts off, leaving them until the time came.
Duncan just gave him a look that said 'again?!'
Methos nodded, and grinned, determined now to enjoy the Scot's company. Just because they were still, technically, just friends, it didn't mean he couldn't have fun.
"Dinner sounds good. I take it it's your treat."
"Mine…why?"
"Well, the sort of places that Adam Pierson can afford…", he shrugged. "Besides, it's your idea."
"Yeah, well, it was also my idea to go to the Opera next week, and you still haven't given me an answer."
Oops, he had forgotten about the bloody opera. He looked up at Duncan. He was giving him the MacLeod patented puppy-dog eyes. Ignoring the delightful shivers chasing down his spine at the sight, Methos just raised his eyes at his friend.
Duncan raised the stakes, and pouted at him. Methos threw his hands up in mock-surrender and burst out laughing.
"Oh, alright. But only because it's you, Mac."
"Good, I'm determined to get you to like Opera."
"Not if I convert you to rock music first. And, this means dinner is definitely on you!"
"Fine!" Duncan grinned at him and finished his drink. Methos laughed again, and began to relax. It was good to see Duncan in such good spirits. Richie and Joe's deaths had hit him very hard, not surprisingly. It was a shame that he would soon have to spoil Mac's good mood. Still, he was determined to enjoy the evening, at least.
"I read about a hot new restaurant that opened last week", he announced, picking up the paper to find the review. Mac went to dispose of their beer bottles, then came back to read the review over Methos' shoulder. Methos desperately tried to keep his mind on what he was reading as Duncan stepped close to him. His body was already reacting to the innocent contact. Clearing his suddenly-dry throat, he stated,
"It's over at the other side of town, but sounds worth the trip".
"Yeah, ok. I'll phone up and see if I can get us a reservation", Duncan replied and turned away from him.
Of course Duncan, being Duncan, had been able to secure them a table, and both men were impressed with the look of the place. Soon wine was flowing, and the food was delicious. Methos had almost forgotten his earlier foul mood. Being with his friend seemed to have that kind of effect on him.
It was only as they left the restaurant that Duncan turned serious.
"Methos. I…I don't want to spoilt the evening, but, will you please tell me what's going on?"
"I told you, Mac, nothing's going on."
"Uh-huh. No, you always wander your apartment block halls with your sword drawn".
"I sensed an Immortal."
"Which was me. Didn't you think it would be me? Who else would it be?"
"Funny, Mac. Aren't you the one who said we should all always be on our guard?"
"And since when do you listen to me?"
"Shh!" Methos announced, as he caught a faint hum of a buzz.
"What…?"
'Mac, I said shut up,' he told him, using the strange 'mental voice' that the two of them had shared ever since defeating Ahriman together, on the battlefield of Methos' mind. He moved forward, trying to pinpoint direction, knowing it would be a minute before the other Immortal came within Mac's slightly less extended range of sense.
'Someone's coming', he announced, a second before the Immortal came within Mac's range as well. Duncan drew his sword as a minute later a tall, thin, dark man wearing a feral grin and dressed in black, approached them from a side-turning.
"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod". Duncan took a step towards the stranger.
"I know who you are, but I'm here to fight Adam Pierson", the Immortal replied, with a sneer in his voice. He drew his sword and advanced on Methos.
"You don't want to do this", Methos told him quietly.
"But I do, so come on, I've challenged you, so fight".
"Fine. But round in the alley. This could be too public here".
"Lead the way".
Methos sighed and made for the alleyway through which the stranger had come. He could see Duncan wanting to make a move to stop either him or the other immortal, but it wasn't his challenge so what could he do?
'Mac, go home. I'll see you tomorrow'.
'Methos. You don't have to do this…'
'Yes. I do. You heard the guy. Just leave…'
Duncan looked like he had more to say, but Methos walked past him. He knew if he made eye-contact, he'd never win this fight. And it was too late to back out now. As he turned the corner, he caught sight of Duncan starting to walk the other way, and he turned his mind to his opponent.
"So, do I get a name?" he inquired, facing the man and drawing his sword.
"James Mills".
"Uh-huh. Nice name".
"Enough talk, Pierson. Let's fight!"
Shrugging, Methos swung his sword, all 5000 years of performance coming into play, and hardly out of practice despite avoiding fights. Mills tried valiantly to counter the attack, but, although fast and determined, he was obviously not very skilled. The fight didn't last long and soon Mills was on his knees with deep cuts to his arms and stomach, and Methos' sword at his neck.
"You can leave now, head intact, if you promise me I will never see you here again", Methos told him, wondering when he'd become a player in the Duncan MacLeod school of sword-fighting.
"Sure. Whatever. Just don't kill me, please."
"Alright. Get up, and get lost!"
Methos lowered his sword, still standing over his opponent and keeping half an eye on his movements while Mills got his breath back and slowly stood. It was only his years of experience that made Methos catch the sudden movement towards an inside pocket. Mills' head left his body a split- second before his hand reached his knife. Methos sighed and lowered his sword, waiting for the quickening.
'Youngsters. Never learn', he thought as the unwanted quickening hit him. Mills had been fairly young, but the Quickening still powerful. Several minutes later, he felt as weak as a kitten, and slumped against the alley wall. As he started to recover, the buzz hit him again. After a moment, though, he recognised it, and didn't know whether to be pleased or annoyed that Duncan hadn't gone far.
"You alright?" his friend asked gently, helping him stand.
"I will be".
"Come on. I'll take you home". Duncan led them back to the car in silence.
"So. Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" he inquired after they were on their way.
"Not everything has to be about something, Mac", Methos replied, staring out of the car window.
"No, but my instincts are pretty good. Why do I think that was linked to what you were about to tell me before we were so rudely interrupted?"
"What I was about to tell you? Yeah, very clever, Mac, but I'm not that easy to get around".
"Oh, yeah? So you're telling me that you haven't been getting lots of challenges lately?"
"Well, I guess five in the past fortnight is rather a lot…Wait, a minute, how did you know?"
"I didn't. You just told me. But, Methos, five, in a fortnight!"
"I know, I know!"
"So?"
"So, what, Mac? I'm not a bloody mind-reader, you know. They didn't give me a ten page essay on exactly why they wanted my head before they tried to kill me."
"Maybe they know who you are?"
"Well, either that or they think I'm very young and easy pickings."
"Well, maybe if you talked about your problems…"
"Mac, we're guys, we're not supposed to talk about our problems. Besides which, I'm English and we definitely aren't supposed to talk about things. Not unless it's connected to the weather!" He finished with a large smirk on his face, already feeling much better. It always cheered him up baiting Mac.
"Methos, you're no more English than I'm American!"
"Got a US passport, haven't you?"
"Oh, ha ha".
"Well, I thought it was funny".
"You would! Why can't you ever take anything seriously?"
Methos hesitated, looking at MacLeod, knowing he wouldn't let this drop. When the Boy-Scout wanted to help, there was no stopping him. Duncan felt his gaze on him and turned to meet it briefly. Methos blinked and broke the contact before he did something he regretted.
"Duncan, there are some things I take very seriously. These things include my sanity, my safety, your sanity and safety, beer, and occasionally, food. Nothing else matters much at the moment. When Joe was alive, he was added to the list. Unfortunately, however seriously I took his safety, I wasn't able to save him. If you want to involve yourself in my problems, fine, but we do it my way."
He glanced at Duncan again, who just nodded slightly and this time refused to meet his gaze.
"OK. For the past month or so, I've been pretty certain that the Watchers know who I am. Since Richie – sorry – they've known that I'm an immortal. Nothing been said and I'm still being allowed to work with the Watchers, but I think certain people high up in the organisation at least suspect who I am, if not know. And they have Joe's personal journals. Now, the challenges are coming thick and fast. I can't live like this. I've decided that, rather than some young upstart getting lucky when he comes to challenge me…"
"…You could beat every one of them"
"Mac, did you hear what I just said? Safety! Arrogance is the quickest way to lose a fight. There will be a day, MacLeod, when even you will lose! Now, as I was saying, rather than that happen, I decided that the only thing is for Adam Pierson to die".
"What?! You can't be serious! You'd give up your head just to stop…"
"For God's sake, MacLeod, do you ever listen?! Now, I said we do this my way. So, let me finish. Of course I won't give up my head. I'm not stupid! Adam Pierson, not Methos, will have to die. And, because the Watchers know he's an immortal, he'll have to loose his head. If the Watchers think I'm dead, it should be harder for immortals to track me as well."
"And then, what, you'll just disappear?"
"I have to, Mac. I've done it before and I'll do it many times again. I even did it to Connor, remember. He thought I was dead – really dead. That wasn't exactly easy; we were good friends for nearly 20 years."
"I thought this time…I don't know…", Duncan tried.
"It is different this time, Duncan. But, it's not enough…" Methos replied gently. Duncan just shook his head, as if not sure whether to believe him. Methos sighed.
"I thought you were through running?" Duncan asked, in a somewhat accusatory tone.
"Mac, there's a difference between running and knowing when to move on", Methos answered, stealing a look at the other man. Duncan was staring straight ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Methos repressed yet another sigh, wondering why he was even bothering. Despite the advances made in their friendship over the past couple of months, he knew that there was still aspects of his personality that Duncan didn't – couldn't understand, however hard he tried. Duncan, he knew, would honourably fight each and every challenge presented to him, if he was in his position. He closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose, attempting to relieve the sudden re-emergence of tension. However, behind his closed eyes he saw Duncan finding out that Adam Pierson was dead – really dead, and the look he was positive would be in the Scot's eyes reminded him of why he was doing this.
"Moving on", Duncan nodded. Methos opened his eyes, willing his mind to return to the conversation.
"Mac. It's the only way", he replied gently.
"Sure. It's just…" He paused, looking briefly at Methos.
"What?"
"Nothing. You do what you have to do". The words 'as usual' hung unspoken in the air between them. Almost visibly, Methos could see the doors that had recently opened between them close at least partly. Gently, slowly, he tried to reach into the other man's mind, to gain some insight into what Duncan was thinking, was feeling. But Duncan's mental blocks were in place and he could feel himself being pushed away. He withdrew, not wanting to make things worse. The mental link between them was not something he would ever abuse. Although it wasn't something they used often, or even experimented with much, Methos found it a comfort to know it was there, to know that his friend was there. When they were both open and in fairly close proximity, they could 'talk' to each other, mind to mind. At other times, there was just a faint sense of feeling and emotion. Methos was very adept at certain mental skills, after 5000 years. Building mental blocks and knowing how to relax mentally and emotionally was partly what kept him sane. What surprised him, though, was how much mental power and control Duncan seemed to have. He had had some training in mental abilities, but he supposed that it shouldn't be that surprising really that a personality as strong and enforcing as Duncan's would be based within innate mental strength.
With a start, Methos realised that the car was drawing up outside his apartment. Duncan turned and looked at him pointedly without turning off the engine.
"You're not coming up?"
"No. I have an early class to teach tomorrow, and then Amanda's flying in for the weekend".
"Oh. Ok. So, I'll see you next week. The opera?"
"Yeah"
Mentally shrugging, Methos let himself out of the car. Duncan roared away as soon as he closed the door. It was obvious that the Scot was not happy. Shaking his head Methos let himself into his apartment and told himself that at least he had a nice, quiet weekend to work out his so-called plan.
'Stubborn, selfish, arrogant old fool!' Duncan ranted to himself as he drove home.
"And then, what, you'll just disappear?"
"I have to, Mac. I've done it before and I'll do it many times again."
"This time is different, Duncan. But it's not enough."
"I thought you were through running?"
"Mac, there's a difference between running and knowing when to move on".
He replayed the comments in his head. God, the old man was so infuriating! Things had been so good between them for the past couple of months. Amanda, having insisted that three was a crowd, had swanned off on some new adventure soon after Joe's funeral. In fact, this weekend would have been the first time he'd seen her in over two months. Connor had had to return to New York. And that had left just the two of them. But, it had been nice. It had been good. Somewhere along the way their relationship had become similar to that between himself and Connor. Perhaps even stronger. Oh, he knew that Methos still had hopes for something beyond friendship. The idea of a relationship with Methos was something he still hadn't really dealt with. He'd just been happy with how things were. Until now. Now Methos was taking it upon himself to change the status quo. To just disappear. Without even discussing it with him.
"Why does he need to?" a little voice in his head asked.
"Well, he doesn't. But-but he should!" he told himself.
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
"So, why does it bother you?"
"I don't know…."
"So just tell him the truth".
"And what's that, then, know-all?!"
"Just, that you don't want him to leave".
And to that small revelation Duncan had no reply.
The next day, having finally got rid of the last of his students who had hung around asking questions after class, he rushed out of the university just before lunch-time, hoping he wouldn't be too late to meet Amanda's plane, which was due in at about 2pm.
He made it to the arrivals gate just in time to see Amanda waltz through the crowds. A grinning young man holding two of her three bags was trailing behind her.
"Duncan!" she squealed, noticing him and running over.
"Amanda", he smiled, hugging her, "You look well".
"New York agrees with me", she told him.
"New York?"
"Yes. Connor was very hospitable".
"Connor was…? Amanda, please tell me you and Connor didn't…"
"Duncan MacLeod! I will tell you no such thing! Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady about these things". But she was grinning.
Duncan just laughed and shook his head. He had no claim on Amanda, he knew, and, after all, who was he to deny his cousin the merits of Amanda's 'friendship'.
The young man finally reached the two of them through the crowds and deposited the bags at Amanda's feet.
"Oh, thank you, Bradley. You're a dear. Perhaps I'll run into you in New York sometime", she told him.
"Duncan, darling, can you take these?" she continued.
Noticing the slightly downcast expression on the boy's face, she kissed him on the cheek, making him blush, then, checking that Duncan had the bags, headed quickly for the exit.
"Bradley?" Duncan queried.
She shrugged. "A sweet boy. He's a student at NYU. I meet him on the plane. I think maybe he's a little smitten with me".
"You think?" Duncan replied with a grin.
Amanda laughed, and Duncan realised how much he'd missed her. Her good moods were infectious. He knew Methos would be pleased to see her again. The two of them had become quite close before she'd left.
Damn.
Thinking about Methos and the last words exchanged between them bought his sudden good mood back down to Earth.
Amanda was still chattering away about shopping in New York as they reached the car, and Duncan tried to grin and nod in the right places. The last thing he wanted was to spoil her mood as well as his own. He tried to focus back on Amanda as they drove away.
"Ok, so enough about me and New York", she smiled.
"Amanda, you know how much I love to listen to your shopping tales", Duncan drawled, sarcastically. But it was half-hearted. No-one did sarcasm like Methos.
Amanda laughed lightly and turned to him.
"Duncan. Darling, what's wrong?" she asked gently.
"Wrong? Nothing". He didn't want to spoil her trip.
"Don't lie to me, MacLeod. It won't work; I've known you too long. You haven't been yourself since about five minutes after I arrived."
"Amanda, I don't want to bore you with my problems".
"Don't be silly. It's what I'm here for."
"It's nothing. It's just…it's Methos…" He trailed off, not even sure how to start.
"Oh. What's happened? Have you two…you know…?"
He cut her off before she said anymore.
"No! I told you. We're friends."
"Shame", she grinned.
"Very funny. Look you asked what the problem was; do you want to know or not?"
"Fine. Tell me."
"Well, he's decided to leave…"
"What, again? For how long?"
"Couple of lifetimes, probably. This is serious disappearance."
"Wow. And, let me guess, you're angry because he just announced this. Without discussing it with you."
"Yes. Exactly. The Watchers know he's immortal, and he thinks his secret identity might get out. But of course, rather than fighting his problems, solving them, he just wants to run away again. Disappear completely! Can you believe it? The stubborn, pig-headed, over-reacting, selfish…"
"Duncan, dear, give the guy a break. You know how strong his survival instinct is."
"I know. But I can't believe he's just going to kill off Adam Pierson and disappear into the woodwork".
"Oh, I see. With Adam really dead…"
"…He won't be able to return to Seacouver. Exactly!"
"I was going to say, he won't be able to return to you."
"It's not me I'm worried about!"
"Of course not! But, Duncan, you do know why the two of you get along so well, don't you?" Amanda asked gently. Duncan glared at her.
"No, I don't mean anything physical. It's because you're both as stubborn and pig-headed as each other! You just don't want him to leave, to leave you; and I bet you haven't told him that. And he probably didn't want to drag you into this by talking about it with you first."
"Is it a crime not to want a friend to leave the city where we both live, where it's easy to get together for a few drinks occasionally?"
"No, of course not. But denial is not just a river in Egypt, either", she replied, not unkindly.
Duncan just glared at her again. They pulled up outside the loft in silence, Amanda hoping she hadn't just made things worse. It was true though. The two of them were as bad as each other. It was why, in her opinion, they were so perfect for each other. But if Mac still hadn't dealt with his feelings for Methos (which she was sure existed), then something like this, however carefully Methos may think he was handling it, was sure to bring things to a head.
"Duncan...", Amanda began, as they walked into the dojo.
"Don't, Amanda. Just don't say a word. I think you've said enough."
"But-"
"No. I appreciate your concern, but this is really none of your business."
"Well, actually, I think it is. Methos is my friend as well, remember?"
"Fine! Go and talk to him then."
"Fine….Give me a lift?"
Duncan glared at her, dropped the bags, and gestured at her to lead the way back to the car.
Methos raised his head at the sign of Immortal presence. Grabbing his sword just in case, he went to open the front door of his apartment. He wondered whether Duncan had surprisingly decided to come by and apologise for acting like a spoilt, stubborn brat. You never knew. Miracles had been known to happen. When he saw Duncan's car draw up, he held a breath. Then he saw Amanda get out and Duncan drive away. He nodded to himself. He should have realised. This probably meant that Amanda had weaned at least part of what was going on out of Mac. Still, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of his friend.
" 'Manda!" he greeted, a minute later.
"Methos, darling. How are you?"
"Surviving. As ever. You?"
"Broke. At least until I can borrow Duncan's credit cards again. I had a bit of a shopping frenzy in New York".
"Ah. That's my girl. Can I get you a drink".
"A gin and tonic." She sat down as he went to get her drink.
"So, you enjoyed New York?"
"It was fabulous, darling."
"And Connor? Was he just as fabulous?"
"Connor…? How did you know?"
"My spies are everywhere", he grinned.
"God, am I that obvious in my old age?" she groaned.
"Amanda, you've always been obvious".
"Oh, well. That's alright then. Can't go changing habits, now, can I?"
"God forbid, my dear. Wherever would we get our scandal and gossip from?" Methos drawled.
"Ooh, probably from you", she laughed.
"Moi?! How dare you?" he camped, just about managing to keep a straight face.
"Very easily".
"Hmm. Yes, I bet you do".
"Ooooh! Ok, put the claws away. It's really good to see you, Methos, but I think you and I need to have a serious talk." Amanda finished her drink, put it on the table and turned to Methos, her expression serious.
"Oh, God. I knew it. What has he told you?"
"You want to kill off Adam. You're worried because the Watchers know about him. It's understandable."
"Yeah. To you".
"Well, Duncan is….He…I think the fact that you're seriously considering disappearing for a couple of centuries is making him think about a few things".
"Like what?"
"Well. You. And him. And this….thing between you."
" 'Manda, there is no 'thing' between us. That's the problem".
"Methos, come on. Just because he won't admit it".
"So what do you want me to do? Torture him until he admits he's attracted to me?"
"Well, come to think of it…"
"As tempting as that may be, I can't really see it."
"Look, he's annoyed because you didn't discuss this with him."
"Well, why should I? Besides, at least I told him. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was dead as well. I-I couldn't do that to him."
"So, you do think he has feelings for you".
"As a friend, yes. As something more, I don't know. I'm not holding my breath any more, but I'm not giving up hope".
"No, you'll just disappear out of his life for the next 100 or so years".
"What else can I do?! I can't stay his friend and be someone completely different, and he certainly won't change his life just to disappear with me!"
"I don't know. I wish I did. All I know is that Duncan seems to have realised how much you really mean to him, and he…he just doesn't want you to go".
"So why can't he tell me that? Instead of storming off like some five-year old who can't get his own way."
"God. Men! You're just as bad as he is. You're both stubborn and pig- headed."
"I'm not the one being an idiot".
"No, but you're not helping. This is new for Duncan. You know that."
" 'Manda', as we said earlier, I'm not about to change the habits of a lifetime. Not even for him. He knows how I feel, but-"
"Does he? Have you ever really told him?"
"Of course I have." But even as the words were out of his mouth, he realised they weren't really true. He'd mentioned, in a moment of deep honesty and intimacy, that he cared deeply for Mac, had never really met anyone else like him. Mac knew he was physically attracted to him. But it was beyond that. Did Duncan really know, Methos wondered now. Does he know how much I'll miss him? How difficult this will be? How I wouldn't even think of leaving without saying goodbye? That this is how much I care. I've lost count of how many times I've slipped away in the night, or even the middle of the day, like a ghost. Taking the easy way out, the coward's way out. Does Duncan know how much, even now, my heart is fighting against my head; telling me that, if he says the word, I would stay anyway? It was frightening. It was dangerous. It could get him killed if he stayed, and yet for the first time in 5000 years he almost considered it worth the risk. He wished there was another way, but he just couldn't stay.
"I-I can't stay, Amanda. I didn't want to leave like this. I hoped he'd understand; that I could say goodbye. I won't stay here and get myself killed over this, even for him", he told her softly.
"So, don't tell me. Tell him. He may surprise you. Don't let this be another regret, Methos. Even if you do leave, alone, don't leave without saying goodbye. Make him listen".
"I…You're right. I have to try".
Smiling sadly, Amanda kissed him on the cheek, bade him goodbye, and let herself out of the apartment.
"So, how was he?" Duncan asked causally, as Amanda arrived back at the loft. She had decided to get a taxi back, not knowing how either man would react at that moment to being in the same space as each other. She was sure Methos could make Duncan understand, but he would need a little time to prepare himself. Meanwhile, she did have her favourite Scotsman to visit with.
"Miserable", she replied bluntly.
"Oh".
"He isn't going out of spite, you know. And he wasn't planning to just disappear without a word…"
"Sure he wasn't", Duncan drawled.
Amanda just gave him a look.
"Yeah, alright. That's not fair. He has tried to talk about it, I guess. After I forced him to tell me what the problem was. He has been a lot more open since…We both have. He's…I don't know. He's my best friend, I guess. I-I'll miss him."
"So tell him that. Don't let him just leave. This isn't easy for him, you know. And it's not some game. He's in danger. The way he tells it, I'm rather surprised he hasn't left already. But he won't do that. Not to you. It's the way he survives. You know that. You have to reinvent a new life every once in while. Methos more than most. Do you realise how unusual you are, that you have always kept your original name?"
Duncan just nodded; not sure what he supposed to say.
"All I'm saying is…let him explain, and try to understand".
"I-I guess I can do that", Duncan replied, not trusting himself to say anymore. He was unsure of, and more than a little afraid, of what may come out. Amanda's earlier statement about denial was still weighing heavy on his mind. He knew the Old Man was in danger; he knew he had to do whatever it took to survive. Realistically, he knew he couldn't fight every challenge, and couldn't hope to avoid the Watchers if – maybe when – they finally connected Adam Pierson and Methos. So, why was he so angry about the way that Methos was handling this?
"Ok, I did not come here to spend the whole time trying to cheer you two up. Or to get myself depressed while doing so. So, enough for one day. Now, what are you cooking for dinner?"
Duncan smiled and, trying to put Methos out of his mind for the evening, set about discussing dinner.
The rest of the weekend passed quickly. Duncan enjoyed the familiar comfort of spending time with Amanda. Amanda, true to her word, didn't mention Methos again. Instead she kept Duncan's spirits high and, on Sunday afternoon announced she was going to say goodbye to a certain somebody, before Duncan drove her to the airport. It was obvious who the person was but Duncan let her go without saying a word, but also without offering to drive her there this time. It was a warm afternoon so Amanda walked to Methos' apartment, giving Duncan some time alone with his thoughts, which they both knew would be focused on just one person.
Methos, meanwhile, had been busy creating a new identity for himself. It was something he'd done many times before but, even with his experience, he knew it was risky. As usual he was anxious that everything was done right and there would be no questions asked about either the death of Adam Pierson or the paperwork of his next identity. Adam would have to go soon, and as soon as he did, Methos would be on a plane to Australia. He hadn't spent time there in quite a while, but he liked the country a lot. It was, figuratively speaking, a million miles away from the States, yet had the advantage of being English-speaking. Not that language would have been a problem in most places, but English was what he was used to now. Not to mention the fact that Australia was renowned for it's beer.
It was 4pm on Sunday afternoon when he was disturbed by the buzz of an immortal, closely followed by a knock on his apartment door. Figuring that it had to be one of two people, he left his sword where it was, but within eyesight, and opened the door to find his first guess had been correct.
"Hi, 'Manda".
"Methos, darling, I've come to say goodbye…"
"I thought as much. I hoped you would. It-it may be some time before I see you again…"
As he spoke he gestured for her to come inside, and discreetly peered past her in the corridor. Just in case.
"Sorry, sweetie, I'm alone", she told him with a small smile, as she walked past him and sat down on the sofa.
Methos shrugged.
"If it's any consolation, I think if you try to talk to him he may listen…"
"Big of him. I don't know why I should be the one to approach him, though. If anything, he should come and apologise to me…"
"Yes, well, maybe, but, as I said before, you're both as bad as each other, and you can't really start playing the blame card or the who said what first game."
"But, if he's really willing to talk, to listen, he should come to me. Why should I chase after him?"
"Because you want to?" This was met with a raised eyebrow. Amanda met it with a stare of her own and after a minute one of Methos' infamous smirks found it's way onto his face. Amanda grinned in response. Could they help it if they were on a similar wavelength where Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was concerned?
"Anyway, darling, what I mean is, just talk to him. Both of you have to stop playing games. You're older than him so make him listen."
"I'm older…Oh, good one, Amanda. That may work if he was 10 and I was 13". Methos erupted into fits of laughter.
"You know what I mean. Look, I've tried my best. Given him what I see as your point of view. I think he realises he over-reacted, but you know how proud he is. And, he's still a bit confused about his feelings for you."
"He has feelings for me?"
"Oh, come one, Methos. You're not stupid. Why do you think he was so angry that you didn't tell him? He thinks you're going to disappear from his life and I think he's just realised just how much he wants you to be in his life."
"But he knows I have to leave. It's the only sensible option".
"Since when has love been sensible?"
"Yeah, tell me about. If it was I wouldn't be in this mess".
"I wasn't actually talking about you".
"Duncan?! Yeah, right. He's just gotten too used to me steeling his beer." But Methos couldn't help the slight tone of hope and optimism that underlaid the sarcasm.
Amanda just raised an eyebrow in response, and got up to leave.
"Ok, well, I have to go. Good luck, and watch your head."
"You too", Methos replied, standing up to see her to the door.
"I'll miss you. If there is a way of getting in touch…"
"I'll miss you too. Thank you, for everything. You're a good friend, Amanda. If there's a way to see you, I will. I plan to be in Australia. Beyond that, I can't really say".
"I know. Be careful, ok?"
"Always. And you. Let Connor look after you for a while. He's a good man. And, promise me you'll keep an eye on Mac, if necessary. Both of you. I'll do my best, but…"
"I know you will. He'll miss you a great deal, but he'll be alright. Just make sure you say goodbye. Even if you say nothing else…"
"I will. He deserves that much".
"Good. I'll…see you around?"
"Definitely. Bye, Amanda".
"Bye, Methos, darling". He kissed her check, and closed the door behind her. It was true. He would miss her. But the break had to be as clean as possible. Still, it was harder than he thought it would be, saying goodbye to Amanda. She had become a good friend. Yet the difficulty of that goodbye would be nothing compared to the one he had still to say. Knowing he still wasn't ready for that, he began the surprisingly quick process of packing up his belonging. A lot of his stuff was semi-permanently in storage anyway. Absently, he noted how depressingly little he really had to show for 5000 years of life.
A couple of hours later, having left Amanda at the airport, Duncan drove slowly back towards the loft. He felt restless, and empty. It was as if he had suddenly come back to reality, with a bump. Amanda's visit had been a pleasant distraction. Now, all he seemed to be doing was replaying their conversations about Methos and his own last conversation with the Old Man. He knew Amanda was right. He couldn't just let Methos leave. Whatever else happened, he realised that he'd rather give the Old Man a chance to say goodbye than just let him disappear. With a start, he realised that, even though he wanted to see Methos, what if Methos didn't want to see him? How did he know that he hadn't already left?
'No! He wouldn't!' he thought. The thought that the Old Man could be gone already frightened him. Left him cold. After all, he had been pretty judgmental about his friend's plans – again. Why would Methos bother to stay around any longer after that?
'Because he's better than that', he told himself.
But, despite this, he had the sudden feeling that time was of the essence. He couldn't let Methos just slip away. Not without saying goodbye. Not without even trying, just once more, to make him stay. He had a glimpse of his life without Methos, empty and cold, and it was not one he cared for. Finally letting his head notice the decision that his heart had already made, he turned the car around, and roared up the road in the opposite direction. He just hoped he wasn't too late.
Methos took one last look out of the window of his now empty-looking apartment. Adam Pierson didn't have many belongings anyway. Sadly, poor Adam would be just setting on his way for a trip to New York when he would be found brutally murdered. His killer would leave no fingerprints or motives and the police would be stumped. Ironically his last challenge had been from a man who looked pretty much like him – enough to be identified as Adam Pierson. He would have Adam's Watcher ID on him, and his driver's license. A blond, pony-tailed, bearded man in a baseball cap wandering away from the vicinity – clearly too shocked at such an event to even talk to the police – would hardly be noticed. And, even if remembered, they would find that he was a ghost. Sometime later an Australian with a crew cut would board a plane at Seacouver airport, going home after travelling around the States for several years. He'd even arranged a fake Quickening. In case his Watcher was cleverer than he thought and managed to catch him up before it was all over. It was all set. 'Adam' was in place, ready to be discovered. He could be gone tonight.
So, why didn't he feel pleased, relieved? He didn't even have to answer that one. It was the same reason why he was still staring pathetically out of his window, hoping for a glance of a certain ThunderBird. It was the reason why he wasn't already out of the door. He shook his head. Duncan wouldn't come. He would have either accepted that Methos had to go, and just let him go – perhaps even thought he would have left already. Or else, he had just given up arguing. Or was, as usual, being too stubborn to make the first move. Possibly thought that Methos wouldn't want to talk to him either. In truth, there was nothing Methos wanted more than to see Duncan MacLeod walk through his door, even if it was to judge him once again.
Finally telling himself that enough was enough, and that he should just go, he forced himself to pick up his bags and leave the apartment. Leave Adam. Leave Seacouver. Leave Duncan. It was better this way, he told himself. But he didn't believe himself for a minute. He didn't care though. He'd been lying to himself for long enough, what was once more? Firmly closing the door behind him, he left without a single glance behind him.
Fifteen minutes later, Methos looked around him, wondering where the Hell he was. He had meant to go directly to the warehouse on the other side of town, where he'd hidden the body. Really he had. But, he'd obviously been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had ended up just wandering around aimlessly. Catching sight of a familiar street, he shook his head. No, not aimlessly. His subconscious obviously knew exactly where it wanted to go. Grinning wryly, he turned a corner and walked slowly up the side-street until he came to a familiar building. A now-boarded up blues bar. The neon sign on the wall now dark, the place deathly quiet. 'Joes'.
'Oh, Joe, my friend, I wish you were here now', Methos thought, staring at the place where he'd always been welcome, always safe. No longer.
'You'd tell me if I was making the right decision. You were always so much wiser than your years.' With a sniff, Methos bade his friend one final farewell, and turned away.
Praying he wasn't too late, Duncan pulled up outside Methos' apartment block. He raced up the stairs. Skidding to a halt outside his friend's apartment, he realised that he wasn't detecting an Immortal inside. Damn! He was too late, wasn't he? He shook his head, refusing to believe. Maybe he'd just popped out for five minutes. With a sudden flourish, before he really realised what he was doing, Duncan had kicked the apartment door in. It was dark, cold. Empty. The last bit of Duncan's hope left him as he noticed the empty shelves, empty cupboards, empty wardrobe. Methos had gone. Swearing at the Old Man, at himself, and at the world in general, Duncan could do nothing else but return to his car and go home. Alone.
Still wishing he knew for certain whether he was doing the right thing, and more than ever wishing his mortal friend was there, Methos quietly slipped away from 'Joes' into the night.
"A clean break, old man", he told himself again, but knew that it was much, much too late for anything that easy.
Duncan found himself stuck in traffic on the way back to the dojo, which only made his foul mood a million times worse. All he wanted to do now was go home, have a couple of triple measures of his favourite scotch and then go and have a workout and beat the crap out of something. If a certain person wasn't there to be the recipient of his frustration, then at the very least his long-suffered punch-bag would have to do the job. After drumming his fingers against the wheel for fifteen minutes, his annoyance was jointed by the beginning of self-righteous resignation and self-pity. He had nothing else to do but listen to his thoughts as they played through his mind over and over again, telling him what an idiot he had been to let Methos go, that he should have tried harder to talk him out of leaving or helped him when he asked.
Twenty minutes after leaving 'Joe's' Methos wondered why he still hadn't made it the warehouse. As if to torture him his subconscious had this time bought him to Duncan's front door. Not that he had really resisted. He would leave it to fate he decided. If Mac was there he would go and try and talk to him, at least say a proper goodbye. If not, well, it was too late. So be it. Decision made, he cautiously approached the dojo, every nerve of his being reaching out for a sign of Immortal presence.
But, the place was dark and empty. Duncan was out. Methos sighed and resolutely turned on his heel and started to walk away. At least he could tell Amanda, one day, that he had tried.
Forty-five minutes after Duncan left Methos' deserted apartment, he finally pulled into the road where he lived. He was angry, tired, fed-up, restless and empty. And, of course, sorry for himself. Damn! Why did he have to leave things too late! It was too ironic. It took the fact that Methos was leaving to finally make him see just how much he needed the other man to stay in his life. He was just about to park when he heard the unmistakable buzz of another Immortal. Unable to see anyone in the dark, he wondered whether he dared hope that it was Methos.
Halfway back up the road, Methos gasped as he was assaulted by the buzz of an Immortal. This was closely followed by the just as unmistakable sight and sound of Mac's Thunderbird roaring down the street towards the dojo. Methos stepped into the shadows and waited until his friend had parked. He couldn't help a grin suddenly appearing on his face, and the thought that maybe his sub-conscious and fate knew something he didn't.
Duncan got out of his car cautiously, drawing his sword. He stood in front of his dojo waiting. No-one approached him but the buzz was still there. He tensed, wondering if he assumed too much in thinking it would be Methos. It could just be an ordinary challenge. He shook his head, wondering when challenges had become such an ordinary part of his life. Whoever it was, though, he wasn't about to wait all night for them to make a move.
"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," he announced.
"I know who you are", a familiar voice said softly.
"M-Methos", Duncan breathed, as he friend slowly appeared out of the shadows.
"Mac". The reply was curt but Methos' voice wasn't quite steady.
Duncan stared at his friend.
"What…What have you done?" Methos was wearing a black baseball cap, and was sporting a ponytail and goatee. Duncan would have laughed if the meeting didn't seem so serious. Part of him almost expected Methos to challenge him.
"It's called a disguise".
"Yeah. I-I went to your apartment. I thought you'd already gone", Duncan stated.
"I had. Then I went to say bye to Joe. After that I found myself outside your dojo. Guess I really can't do clean breaks anymore…" He gave a short, humourless laugh.
"So you're really leaving?" Duncan asked, a touch of anger in his voice.
"I don't have a choice".
"Yeah. So you keep saying. Just who are you trying to convince? I've always believed that we have choices".
"Mac, I didn't come here to argue again."
"So why are you here?" The reply was bitter and terse. Methos stared at him, then shook his head. This was a bad idea, he told himself.
"Suddenly, I'm really not so sure".
"Oh, well. You'd better run then. Don't want to miss your plane!"
"Fine!" He'd tried; but it was true. He didn't have the time to argue with Mac again.
He turned and started to walk away, refusing to look at his friend. It was the best way, it was easier this way. He'd done it before and he was sure he'd do it again. He could do this, he told himself. He wasn't sure he believed him though. Not this time.
"Methos-"
"What, Mac?", he snapped, not stopping.
'Shit! Don't leave, don't leave!'
Duncan's mental cry came through loud and clear. Methos raised an eyebrow in surprise, and finally, slowly, turned back to face Duncan.
"Why?" he asked calmly. If they were going to part on good terms, he would give it one last chance. As much as he hated to admit it, Duncan was worth that much, was worth that much to him. That shout, so unlike Duncan, had cut through him. Could it really be that Duncan was…scared?
"Why what?" Duncan whispered.
"Why shouldn't I leave?"
Duncan said nothing for a minute. He stood and gulped at empty air, obviously searching for words. His eyes searched Methos' and the older man had to work hard to meet their intensity. Again he wondered, almost absently, what was this thing between them?
Slowly Duncan stepped towards Methos. Methos stood his ground, heart pounding despite himself, and waited to hear what the Scot would say. Damn! What was it about the Highlander than made him feel like a nervous teenager?
"Don't leave", he repeated.
"You-you already said that". But his heart wasn't in it. Methos was already half-lost in the Highlander's dark eyes. Falling even deeper.
"I know", Duncan smiled.
"Because it's not the brave, honourable decision? It's not your decision to make".
"No. Because…because what would I do without you? Everyone has left me, Methos. Tessa, Fitz, Darius, Richie, Joe. I-I don't know what I'd do if you left as well".
Methos gulped.
"Duncan, you'd be fine. You…have Amanda".
"It's not the same. You know that".
"Duncan. Don't".
"Don't what? Do this?" He stepped even closer, invading Methos' personal space, almost touching him. Methos felt his heart quicken even more, but couldn't bring himself to break eye-contact, or the intense connection between them.
"It's too dangerous".
"So we'll fight it together".
"No, I can't do that to you".
"I'm offering. You aren't making me do anything I don't want to".
'Oh God', thought Methos. Does he know what he's saying? Does he know what he's doing to me? He could feel his arousal growing, even as he thought about how much he was attracted to the Highlander. Part of him wondered whether Duncan was becoming aroused by this heat between them, but he didn't dare try to find out. He wondered whether Amanda had been even a little correct when she'd said that Duncan was attracted to him.
"Duncan, I can't...I can't do that to you".
"It will be alright. I'll be alright."
"Maybe you will. But I won't! I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you because of me, because of my problems. I couldn't put you in danger."
"So you're just leaving me".
Methos said nothing.
"A wise man once told me that I had to stop thinking and just act. And a very wise woman told me that I should try to understand. I-I want to, Methos. I really do. And I've wasted too much time already."
"Duncan, don't do this. I don't know whether I can refuse you", he whispered.
"So don't", Duncan whispered back.
Methos closed his eyes. When he opened them a second later Duncan was still standing in front of him, his eyes peering into Methos' soul. A small smile played around his lips.
Oh God. His lips. Way did he have to think about Duncan's lips? Lips which were so close to his own…
It was no good. He couldn't resist any longer. Somehow the conversation had gone from an argument to a seduction, and it was too late to go back. Even Duncan had to know that. Leaning forward, Methos caught Duncan's lips in a soft light kiss. Just as he was about to pull away he felt Duncan return the pressure. He felt Duncan's hands reach up to pull him closer, close around the back of his head. The touch was both searing and cleansing. His own hands were suddenly in Duncan's hair.
The kiss deepened, mouths opened and tongues sought each other. Methos wondered why they'd had to wait so long. He felt like a starving man suddenly being given a feast. He didn't think he'd ever be able to let go. His legs were going weak, but it was too late. He'd already fallen.
After what seemed like an eternity, Duncan broke the kiss. Methos stumbled and blinked. Duncan grabbed his arm to steady him, and he found himself gazing into the Highlander's eyes. They were wide and dilated with desire.
"Wow", Methos breathed.
Duncan licked his lips, and Methos could hardly suppress a moan. Gods, the man was sexy.
"Let's…let's take this inside", Duncan said huskily.
Methos took a deep breath.
"Are you sure about this?" he had to ask.
"Oh yes", Duncan breathed, the sincerity obvious in both his voice and his eyes.
Methos grinned. His mind had long since stopped trying to work out when his fantasies had become reality. Now it was just enjoying being along for the ride. Any point of no return had long since been passed.
With a similar stupid grin plastered on his own face, Duncan took Methos' hand and led him into the dojo. They lasted until they got into the lift up to the loft before Methos backed Duncan against the wall and captured his lips in another kiss. By the time they reached the loft, both men were wearing decidedly less clothes.
"Bed", breathed Methos.
Duncan nodded and Methos decided that the time for talking was well and truly over.
Duncan woke up the next morning with a grin on his face. It took him a minute to remember why. Then it came to him. Last night. Him and Methos. It had been amazing, unlike anything he'd experienced before. Hot on the heels of that realisation, though, came another. Methos was gone. He couldn't sense him, and somehow he had the feeling that he hadn't just popped out to get some bagels for breakfast. Methos was truly gone; for good. He suddenly saw last night for what it really was – a goodbye. Duncan sighed and got up to shower. He wondered why he had bothered to think it was anything else, but he didn't really feel resentful. Methos had said goodbye, and Duncan certainly didn't regret any of the night before. At least now they both knew the truth. He thought back. He vaguely remembered asking again that Methos stay. Methos had agreed. Looking back, he realised that they had both known he was lying. He'd had no choice. Now all that was left was an aching emptiness.
For the next two days Duncan tried to adjust to the idea of not having Methos in his life. He'd heard on the news that a man with the ID of Adam Pierson had been found decapitated, just outside of town, and guessed that by now Methos was safely miles away living his new life. Without him. Outwardly he was going through the motions, but inside all he could think of was Methos. And their one night together. The taste of his lips, the feel of his skin against his own…
The sound of the letterbox interrupted his thoughts and he rushed to see what had been delivered, grateful for the distraction.
It was a thin, plain, white envelope with no return address. Duncan frowned and opened it. Inside was a plane ticket to Australia, an Australian-issue passport and a short note written in very familiar handwriting:
'Mac
I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine. I think you'll like him and he'd like you to come visit. He's name's Peter Adams. He can be a bit of a cynical, sarcastic old bastard sometimes but he means well. He has a friend called Robert McDonald. He's got Scottish ancestors somewhere along the line. I think there's something going on between them, but I told them you wouldn't mind. Maybe we'll see you sometime.
M'.
Duncan could hardly believe it. He read the note again, then opened the passport and gazed at his own picture above the name Robert McDonald. Could he really just leave and go to Australia? Could he just leave his old life, his home, his identity and become someone else? Just for Methos?
Sometimes, just sometimes, you had a choice. And sometimes, when you made that choice, there was no choice whatsoever. Maybe this time they'd even get to that opera. Duncan grinned and began to pack.
"Up on the Watershed, standing at the fork in the road
You stand there and agonise, till your agony's your heaviest load
You can't fly as the crow flies, get used to the country mile
When you're learning to face the path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while"
'Watershed', by Indigo Girls
A sequel to Revelations
"Up on the watershed, standing at the fork in the road,
You stand there and agonise, till your agony's your heaviest load"
'Watershed', by Indigo Girls
Adam Pierson rubbed at his eyes as he tried to concentrate on his research. He'd only written about 40 words in the past hour. Standing, he stretched, yawned and wandered over to the window of his apartment. Unfortunately, the cool early evening air did little to improve his mood and concentration. Turning on his heel he marched into the kitchen and grabbed a can of beer from the well-stocked fridge. Downing half of it in one go, he went back into the living room, stared at the computer screen and sighed again. He finished his beer, and, in both an attempt to ease his tension and a sudden fit of anger at his situation, hurled the empty can at the computer screen. It bounced harmlessly off the machine. Adam cursed both it and the world in general, slumped back into his chair and rubbed at his face again. What the Hell was he doing, he wondered. He had more important things to worry about than this bloody report. As if the Watchers even cared about it after all that had happened!
Adam Pierson had big problems. The first of which, which was bad enough for anyone, was that he didn't exist. No, really. He was a creation of a man who had lived much, much longer than the 32 years that he was supposed to be. A man who sometimes got so caught up pretending that he really was Adam that he began to think of himself in the third person. The worst thing was that Methos, for that was the man's name, liked Adam. He was quiet, easy-going, uncomplicated. If it wasn't for the poor pay of a grad student turned Watcher he'd be quite happy. But now, this had happened. And this hadn't blown over as he'd hoped it would. As he'd assumed it had. Damn it! Why, after 5000 years, did he still bother to assume anything? He must be the world's most cynical optimist at times, he mused. Admittedly, he'd other things on his mind, but now that the immediate danger was over, he was left with this; something just as dangerous if he couldn't work out a solution in time. That, of course, brought Adam to the second problem. That was the whole other problem. He was about 99.99% sure that the Watchers knew that he was Immortal, and that many suspected that he might be Methos.
Damn it! He should have known that there would have been some aftermath from the whole Ahriman disaster. But it was only now, three months after the defeat of the demon, that the Watchers appeared to be watching him. After it had seemed to be finally blown over, after he'd finally stopped worrying every minute of every day that the cosmos was playing a joke on him and that he and Duncan hadn't really defeated Ahriman for the next thousand years. Hell, he had even been beginning to think he had a future in Seacouver, maybe even a future with Duncan. Things had been looking up. And then irony had struck with its usual twisted bitterness. And to think that he was usually irony's biggest fan. It was the old lull-them-into-a- false-sense-of security-and-then-once-they-think-they've-recovered-from-one- problem-hit-them with-the-next trick. It was clever. It was effective. It was bloody annoying, and trying to find a solution was driving Methos mad.
Oh, it was true that he'd tried to change identities, tried to get rid of Adam Pierson. When he'd been forced to kill Richie Ryan, he was sure that the Watchers would have had had him pin-pointed as an Immortal. In the wake of Duncan and Joe's grief, he'd quickly taken off, and briefly become Adrian Adams. But, when he'd forced himself to return to Seacouver, to his friends and to the truth about his past, he had realised it had been a very half-hearted attempt. Everyone still knew him as Adam. At the time, he hadn't really minded. Had other things to worry about. Then had come Joe's temptation. Ahriman had indeed been clever when he'd tested Joe Dawson. Through the poor mortal, he'd managed to hurt Joe, Duncan, and Methos. Not even someone as strong and kind as Joe had been able to resist temptation completely. It was a cruel joke, to offer the one thing Joe wanted more than anything in his life - legs, against the things that meant more to him than anything else in life – his friendship with Duncan and Methos, the honour and goodness of Duncan and the safety of Methos.
Thinking of Joe bought a wave of grief over him. He was going to miss the Watcher very much. He was one person from his recent lifetimes who knew who he really was, and came who close to accepting him as himself. Now, he was gone. It was up to him and Duncan to keep his memory alive. The man had been one of the best.
In addition, whilst he had been alive, Joe had managed to keep his identity secret, even after he had unwittingly told some fellow watchers who he was. After the Watchers had returned to their right minds, Joe had somehow been able to persuade them that he had been mistaken. But how many had truly believed that? The truth was also in Joe's own journals, and Methos had a feeling that whoever in the Watchers had access to those journals was not impressed. He knew he had a watcher, although it wasn't too difficult to lose him every so often. Part of him felt like some exhibit in a museum. Come see the all-wise 5000 year-old man, as he'd once joked to Joe. And the Watchers were flocking to see. The other part of him just felt vulnerable. Even if they didn't know he was actually Methos, or if they just suspected, it wouldn't be long until they knew for sure, if he wasn't careful. It was bad enough being pegged as an Immortal. And one who was associated with Mac. Even if only a few really knew who he was, that number would surely grow. It was getting too dangerous. And he was slowly being forced to a decision. Adam Pierson would have to die. Die permanently, horribly, bloodily, probably publicly, so that even if some thought Methos was still alive, they'd never find him. It was a plan. Not a perfect plan. For one thing, he suddenly realised, it would mean leaving Mac. At least for a couple of lifetimes. To be associated with him was too high profile and he would soon be noticed again. It was a damn shame. He liked Adam. He liked being Adam.
Suddenly he felt the buzz of an approaching Immortal. Swearing and grabbing his sword, he rushed out of the door of apartment. He hoped it wasn't a challenge, but thought it probably was. That was another thing. Since this all blew up, he'd had more challenges than in the past decade. He only made it down one floor before he crashed into another person, and the source of the buzz.
"Mac!"
"Methos. Going somewhere?"
"It's only you?" he glanced around, wearily.
"Yeah, I was just coming up to your place…"
"Right. Well, come on, then".
Mac gave him a puzzled look but said nothing and just followed him.
Slamming the door behind him, Methos quickly turned off the computer and went to grab his friend a beer. Duncan made himself comfortable on the sofa, and Methos had to smirk at how much the Scot was starting to behave like him.
"So, what can I do for you, Mac?"
Duncan shrugged. "Do I need an excuse to come see you? I just thought you might want to grab some dinner… Is – is something wrong?"
"No. Not really. I just have a few things on my mind…" He was unwilling to tell Mac about his plans until he had them finalised. If at all. But, he could just imagine Duncan's reaction if he didn't tell him. He wasn't sure what would be worse. Duncan thinking him dead, or having to tell him he was leaving. For good. He shook such thoughts off, leaving them until the time came.
Duncan just gave him a look that said 'again?!'
Methos nodded, and grinned, determined now to enjoy the Scot's company. Just because they were still, technically, just friends, it didn't mean he couldn't have fun.
"Dinner sounds good. I take it it's your treat."
"Mine…why?"
"Well, the sort of places that Adam Pierson can afford…", he shrugged. "Besides, it's your idea."
"Yeah, well, it was also my idea to go to the Opera next week, and you still haven't given me an answer."
Oops, he had forgotten about the bloody opera. He looked up at Duncan. He was giving him the MacLeod patented puppy-dog eyes. Ignoring the delightful shivers chasing down his spine at the sight, Methos just raised his eyes at his friend.
Duncan raised the stakes, and pouted at him. Methos threw his hands up in mock-surrender and burst out laughing.
"Oh, alright. But only because it's you, Mac."
"Good, I'm determined to get you to like Opera."
"Not if I convert you to rock music first. And, this means dinner is definitely on you!"
"Fine!" Duncan grinned at him and finished his drink. Methos laughed again, and began to relax. It was good to see Duncan in such good spirits. Richie and Joe's deaths had hit him very hard, not surprisingly. It was a shame that he would soon have to spoil Mac's good mood. Still, he was determined to enjoy the evening, at least.
"I read about a hot new restaurant that opened last week", he announced, picking up the paper to find the review. Mac went to dispose of their beer bottles, then came back to read the review over Methos' shoulder. Methos desperately tried to keep his mind on what he was reading as Duncan stepped close to him. His body was already reacting to the innocent contact. Clearing his suddenly-dry throat, he stated,
"It's over at the other side of town, but sounds worth the trip".
"Yeah, ok. I'll phone up and see if I can get us a reservation", Duncan replied and turned away from him.
Of course Duncan, being Duncan, had been able to secure them a table, and both men were impressed with the look of the place. Soon wine was flowing, and the food was delicious. Methos had almost forgotten his earlier foul mood. Being with his friend seemed to have that kind of effect on him.
It was only as they left the restaurant that Duncan turned serious.
"Methos. I…I don't want to spoilt the evening, but, will you please tell me what's going on?"
"I told you, Mac, nothing's going on."
"Uh-huh. No, you always wander your apartment block halls with your sword drawn".
"I sensed an Immortal."
"Which was me. Didn't you think it would be me? Who else would it be?"
"Funny, Mac. Aren't you the one who said we should all always be on our guard?"
"And since when do you listen to me?"
"Shh!" Methos announced, as he caught a faint hum of a buzz.
"What…?"
'Mac, I said shut up,' he told him, using the strange 'mental voice' that the two of them had shared ever since defeating Ahriman together, on the battlefield of Methos' mind. He moved forward, trying to pinpoint direction, knowing it would be a minute before the other Immortal came within Mac's slightly less extended range of sense.
'Someone's coming', he announced, a second before the Immortal came within Mac's range as well. Duncan drew his sword as a minute later a tall, thin, dark man wearing a feral grin and dressed in black, approached them from a side-turning.
"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod". Duncan took a step towards the stranger.
"I know who you are, but I'm here to fight Adam Pierson", the Immortal replied, with a sneer in his voice. He drew his sword and advanced on Methos.
"You don't want to do this", Methos told him quietly.
"But I do, so come on, I've challenged you, so fight".
"Fine. But round in the alley. This could be too public here".
"Lead the way".
Methos sighed and made for the alleyway through which the stranger had come. He could see Duncan wanting to make a move to stop either him or the other immortal, but it wasn't his challenge so what could he do?
'Mac, go home. I'll see you tomorrow'.
'Methos. You don't have to do this…'
'Yes. I do. You heard the guy. Just leave…'
Duncan looked like he had more to say, but Methos walked past him. He knew if he made eye-contact, he'd never win this fight. And it was too late to back out now. As he turned the corner, he caught sight of Duncan starting to walk the other way, and he turned his mind to his opponent.
"So, do I get a name?" he inquired, facing the man and drawing his sword.
"James Mills".
"Uh-huh. Nice name".
"Enough talk, Pierson. Let's fight!"
Shrugging, Methos swung his sword, all 5000 years of performance coming into play, and hardly out of practice despite avoiding fights. Mills tried valiantly to counter the attack, but, although fast and determined, he was obviously not very skilled. The fight didn't last long and soon Mills was on his knees with deep cuts to his arms and stomach, and Methos' sword at his neck.
"You can leave now, head intact, if you promise me I will never see you here again", Methos told him, wondering when he'd become a player in the Duncan MacLeod school of sword-fighting.
"Sure. Whatever. Just don't kill me, please."
"Alright. Get up, and get lost!"
Methos lowered his sword, still standing over his opponent and keeping half an eye on his movements while Mills got his breath back and slowly stood. It was only his years of experience that made Methos catch the sudden movement towards an inside pocket. Mills' head left his body a split- second before his hand reached his knife. Methos sighed and lowered his sword, waiting for the quickening.
'Youngsters. Never learn', he thought as the unwanted quickening hit him. Mills had been fairly young, but the Quickening still powerful. Several minutes later, he felt as weak as a kitten, and slumped against the alley wall. As he started to recover, the buzz hit him again. After a moment, though, he recognised it, and didn't know whether to be pleased or annoyed that Duncan hadn't gone far.
"You alright?" his friend asked gently, helping him stand.
"I will be".
"Come on. I'll take you home". Duncan led them back to the car in silence.
"So. Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" he inquired after they were on their way.
"Not everything has to be about something, Mac", Methos replied, staring out of the car window.
"No, but my instincts are pretty good. Why do I think that was linked to what you were about to tell me before we were so rudely interrupted?"
"What I was about to tell you? Yeah, very clever, Mac, but I'm not that easy to get around".
"Oh, yeah? So you're telling me that you haven't been getting lots of challenges lately?"
"Well, I guess five in the past fortnight is rather a lot…Wait, a minute, how did you know?"
"I didn't. You just told me. But, Methos, five, in a fortnight!"
"I know, I know!"
"So?"
"So, what, Mac? I'm not a bloody mind-reader, you know. They didn't give me a ten page essay on exactly why they wanted my head before they tried to kill me."
"Maybe they know who you are?"
"Well, either that or they think I'm very young and easy pickings."
"Well, maybe if you talked about your problems…"
"Mac, we're guys, we're not supposed to talk about our problems. Besides which, I'm English and we definitely aren't supposed to talk about things. Not unless it's connected to the weather!" He finished with a large smirk on his face, already feeling much better. It always cheered him up baiting Mac.
"Methos, you're no more English than I'm American!"
"Got a US passport, haven't you?"
"Oh, ha ha".
"Well, I thought it was funny".
"You would! Why can't you ever take anything seriously?"
Methos hesitated, looking at MacLeod, knowing he wouldn't let this drop. When the Boy-Scout wanted to help, there was no stopping him. Duncan felt his gaze on him and turned to meet it briefly. Methos blinked and broke the contact before he did something he regretted.
"Duncan, there are some things I take very seriously. These things include my sanity, my safety, your sanity and safety, beer, and occasionally, food. Nothing else matters much at the moment. When Joe was alive, he was added to the list. Unfortunately, however seriously I took his safety, I wasn't able to save him. If you want to involve yourself in my problems, fine, but we do it my way."
He glanced at Duncan again, who just nodded slightly and this time refused to meet his gaze.
"OK. For the past month or so, I've been pretty certain that the Watchers know who I am. Since Richie – sorry – they've known that I'm an immortal. Nothing been said and I'm still being allowed to work with the Watchers, but I think certain people high up in the organisation at least suspect who I am, if not know. And they have Joe's personal journals. Now, the challenges are coming thick and fast. I can't live like this. I've decided that, rather than some young upstart getting lucky when he comes to challenge me…"
"…You could beat every one of them"
"Mac, did you hear what I just said? Safety! Arrogance is the quickest way to lose a fight. There will be a day, MacLeod, when even you will lose! Now, as I was saying, rather than that happen, I decided that the only thing is for Adam Pierson to die".
"What?! You can't be serious! You'd give up your head just to stop…"
"For God's sake, MacLeod, do you ever listen?! Now, I said we do this my way. So, let me finish. Of course I won't give up my head. I'm not stupid! Adam Pierson, not Methos, will have to die. And, because the Watchers know he's an immortal, he'll have to loose his head. If the Watchers think I'm dead, it should be harder for immortals to track me as well."
"And then, what, you'll just disappear?"
"I have to, Mac. I've done it before and I'll do it many times again. I even did it to Connor, remember. He thought I was dead – really dead. That wasn't exactly easy; we were good friends for nearly 20 years."
"I thought this time…I don't know…", Duncan tried.
"It is different this time, Duncan. But, it's not enough…" Methos replied gently. Duncan just shook his head, as if not sure whether to believe him. Methos sighed.
"I thought you were through running?" Duncan asked, in a somewhat accusatory tone.
"Mac, there's a difference between running and knowing when to move on", Methos answered, stealing a look at the other man. Duncan was staring straight ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Methos repressed yet another sigh, wondering why he was even bothering. Despite the advances made in their friendship over the past couple of months, he knew that there was still aspects of his personality that Duncan didn't – couldn't understand, however hard he tried. Duncan, he knew, would honourably fight each and every challenge presented to him, if he was in his position. He closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose, attempting to relieve the sudden re-emergence of tension. However, behind his closed eyes he saw Duncan finding out that Adam Pierson was dead – really dead, and the look he was positive would be in the Scot's eyes reminded him of why he was doing this.
"Moving on", Duncan nodded. Methos opened his eyes, willing his mind to return to the conversation.
"Mac. It's the only way", he replied gently.
"Sure. It's just…" He paused, looking briefly at Methos.
"What?"
"Nothing. You do what you have to do". The words 'as usual' hung unspoken in the air between them. Almost visibly, Methos could see the doors that had recently opened between them close at least partly. Gently, slowly, he tried to reach into the other man's mind, to gain some insight into what Duncan was thinking, was feeling. But Duncan's mental blocks were in place and he could feel himself being pushed away. He withdrew, not wanting to make things worse. The mental link between them was not something he would ever abuse. Although it wasn't something they used often, or even experimented with much, Methos found it a comfort to know it was there, to know that his friend was there. When they were both open and in fairly close proximity, they could 'talk' to each other, mind to mind. At other times, there was just a faint sense of feeling and emotion. Methos was very adept at certain mental skills, after 5000 years. Building mental blocks and knowing how to relax mentally and emotionally was partly what kept him sane. What surprised him, though, was how much mental power and control Duncan seemed to have. He had had some training in mental abilities, but he supposed that it shouldn't be that surprising really that a personality as strong and enforcing as Duncan's would be based within innate mental strength.
With a start, Methos realised that the car was drawing up outside his apartment. Duncan turned and looked at him pointedly without turning off the engine.
"You're not coming up?"
"No. I have an early class to teach tomorrow, and then Amanda's flying in for the weekend".
"Oh. Ok. So, I'll see you next week. The opera?"
"Yeah"
Mentally shrugging, Methos let himself out of the car. Duncan roared away as soon as he closed the door. It was obvious that the Scot was not happy. Shaking his head Methos let himself into his apartment and told himself that at least he had a nice, quiet weekend to work out his so-called plan.
'Stubborn, selfish, arrogant old fool!' Duncan ranted to himself as he drove home.
"And then, what, you'll just disappear?"
"I have to, Mac. I've done it before and I'll do it many times again."
"This time is different, Duncan. But it's not enough."
"I thought you were through running?"
"Mac, there's a difference between running and knowing when to move on".
He replayed the comments in his head. God, the old man was so infuriating! Things had been so good between them for the past couple of months. Amanda, having insisted that three was a crowd, had swanned off on some new adventure soon after Joe's funeral. In fact, this weekend would have been the first time he'd seen her in over two months. Connor had had to return to New York. And that had left just the two of them. But, it had been nice. It had been good. Somewhere along the way their relationship had become similar to that between himself and Connor. Perhaps even stronger. Oh, he knew that Methos still had hopes for something beyond friendship. The idea of a relationship with Methos was something he still hadn't really dealt with. He'd just been happy with how things were. Until now. Now Methos was taking it upon himself to change the status quo. To just disappear. Without even discussing it with him.
"Why does he need to?" a little voice in his head asked.
"Well, he doesn't. But-but he should!" he told himself.
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
"So, why does it bother you?"
"I don't know…."
"So just tell him the truth".
"And what's that, then, know-all?!"
"Just, that you don't want him to leave".
And to that small revelation Duncan had no reply.
The next day, having finally got rid of the last of his students who had hung around asking questions after class, he rushed out of the university just before lunch-time, hoping he wouldn't be too late to meet Amanda's plane, which was due in at about 2pm.
He made it to the arrivals gate just in time to see Amanda waltz through the crowds. A grinning young man holding two of her three bags was trailing behind her.
"Duncan!" she squealed, noticing him and running over.
"Amanda", he smiled, hugging her, "You look well".
"New York agrees with me", she told him.
"New York?"
"Yes. Connor was very hospitable".
"Connor was…? Amanda, please tell me you and Connor didn't…"
"Duncan MacLeod! I will tell you no such thing! Don't you know it's rude to ask a lady about these things". But she was grinning.
Duncan just laughed and shook his head. He had no claim on Amanda, he knew, and, after all, who was he to deny his cousin the merits of Amanda's 'friendship'.
The young man finally reached the two of them through the crowds and deposited the bags at Amanda's feet.
"Oh, thank you, Bradley. You're a dear. Perhaps I'll run into you in New York sometime", she told him.
"Duncan, darling, can you take these?" she continued.
Noticing the slightly downcast expression on the boy's face, she kissed him on the cheek, making him blush, then, checking that Duncan had the bags, headed quickly for the exit.
"Bradley?" Duncan queried.
She shrugged. "A sweet boy. He's a student at NYU. I meet him on the plane. I think maybe he's a little smitten with me".
"You think?" Duncan replied with a grin.
Amanda laughed, and Duncan realised how much he'd missed her. Her good moods were infectious. He knew Methos would be pleased to see her again. The two of them had become quite close before she'd left.
Damn.
Thinking about Methos and the last words exchanged between them bought his sudden good mood back down to Earth.
Amanda was still chattering away about shopping in New York as they reached the car, and Duncan tried to grin and nod in the right places. The last thing he wanted was to spoil her mood as well as his own. He tried to focus back on Amanda as they drove away.
"Ok, so enough about me and New York", she smiled.
"Amanda, you know how much I love to listen to your shopping tales", Duncan drawled, sarcastically. But it was half-hearted. No-one did sarcasm like Methos.
Amanda laughed lightly and turned to him.
"Duncan. Darling, what's wrong?" she asked gently.
"Wrong? Nothing". He didn't want to spoil her trip.
"Don't lie to me, MacLeod. It won't work; I've known you too long. You haven't been yourself since about five minutes after I arrived."
"Amanda, I don't want to bore you with my problems".
"Don't be silly. It's what I'm here for."
"It's nothing. It's just…it's Methos…" He trailed off, not even sure how to start.
"Oh. What's happened? Have you two…you know…?"
He cut her off before she said anymore.
"No! I told you. We're friends."
"Shame", she grinned.
"Very funny. Look you asked what the problem was; do you want to know or not?"
"Fine. Tell me."
"Well, he's decided to leave…"
"What, again? For how long?"
"Couple of lifetimes, probably. This is serious disappearance."
"Wow. And, let me guess, you're angry because he just announced this. Without discussing it with you."
"Yes. Exactly. The Watchers know he's immortal, and he thinks his secret identity might get out. But of course, rather than fighting his problems, solving them, he just wants to run away again. Disappear completely! Can you believe it? The stubborn, pig-headed, over-reacting, selfish…"
"Duncan, dear, give the guy a break. You know how strong his survival instinct is."
"I know. But I can't believe he's just going to kill off Adam Pierson and disappear into the woodwork".
"Oh, I see. With Adam really dead…"
"…He won't be able to return to Seacouver. Exactly!"
"I was going to say, he won't be able to return to you."
"It's not me I'm worried about!"
"Of course not! But, Duncan, you do know why the two of you get along so well, don't you?" Amanda asked gently. Duncan glared at her.
"No, I don't mean anything physical. It's because you're both as stubborn and pig-headed as each other! You just don't want him to leave, to leave you; and I bet you haven't told him that. And he probably didn't want to drag you into this by talking about it with you first."
"Is it a crime not to want a friend to leave the city where we both live, where it's easy to get together for a few drinks occasionally?"
"No, of course not. But denial is not just a river in Egypt, either", she replied, not unkindly.
Duncan just glared at her again. They pulled up outside the loft in silence, Amanda hoping she hadn't just made things worse. It was true though. The two of them were as bad as each other. It was why, in her opinion, they were so perfect for each other. But if Mac still hadn't dealt with his feelings for Methos (which she was sure existed), then something like this, however carefully Methos may think he was handling it, was sure to bring things to a head.
"Duncan...", Amanda began, as they walked into the dojo.
"Don't, Amanda. Just don't say a word. I think you've said enough."
"But-"
"No. I appreciate your concern, but this is really none of your business."
"Well, actually, I think it is. Methos is my friend as well, remember?"
"Fine! Go and talk to him then."
"Fine….Give me a lift?"
Duncan glared at her, dropped the bags, and gestured at her to lead the way back to the car.
Methos raised his head at the sign of Immortal presence. Grabbing his sword just in case, he went to open the front door of his apartment. He wondered whether Duncan had surprisingly decided to come by and apologise for acting like a spoilt, stubborn brat. You never knew. Miracles had been known to happen. When he saw Duncan's car draw up, he held a breath. Then he saw Amanda get out and Duncan drive away. He nodded to himself. He should have realised. This probably meant that Amanda had weaned at least part of what was going on out of Mac. Still, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of his friend.
" 'Manda!" he greeted, a minute later.
"Methos, darling. How are you?"
"Surviving. As ever. You?"
"Broke. At least until I can borrow Duncan's credit cards again. I had a bit of a shopping frenzy in New York".
"Ah. That's my girl. Can I get you a drink".
"A gin and tonic." She sat down as he went to get her drink.
"So, you enjoyed New York?"
"It was fabulous, darling."
"And Connor? Was he just as fabulous?"
"Connor…? How did you know?"
"My spies are everywhere", he grinned.
"God, am I that obvious in my old age?" she groaned.
"Amanda, you've always been obvious".
"Oh, well. That's alright then. Can't go changing habits, now, can I?"
"God forbid, my dear. Wherever would we get our scandal and gossip from?" Methos drawled.
"Ooh, probably from you", she laughed.
"Moi?! How dare you?" he camped, just about managing to keep a straight face.
"Very easily".
"Hmm. Yes, I bet you do".
"Ooooh! Ok, put the claws away. It's really good to see you, Methos, but I think you and I need to have a serious talk." Amanda finished her drink, put it on the table and turned to Methos, her expression serious.
"Oh, God. I knew it. What has he told you?"
"You want to kill off Adam. You're worried because the Watchers know about him. It's understandable."
"Yeah. To you".
"Well, Duncan is….He…I think the fact that you're seriously considering disappearing for a couple of centuries is making him think about a few things".
"Like what?"
"Well. You. And him. And this….thing between you."
" 'Manda, there is no 'thing' between us. That's the problem".
"Methos, come on. Just because he won't admit it".
"So what do you want me to do? Torture him until he admits he's attracted to me?"
"Well, come to think of it…"
"As tempting as that may be, I can't really see it."
"Look, he's annoyed because you didn't discuss this with him."
"Well, why should I? Besides, at least I told him. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was dead as well. I-I couldn't do that to him."
"So, you do think he has feelings for you".
"As a friend, yes. As something more, I don't know. I'm not holding my breath any more, but I'm not giving up hope".
"No, you'll just disappear out of his life for the next 100 or so years".
"What else can I do?! I can't stay his friend and be someone completely different, and he certainly won't change his life just to disappear with me!"
"I don't know. I wish I did. All I know is that Duncan seems to have realised how much you really mean to him, and he…he just doesn't want you to go".
"So why can't he tell me that? Instead of storming off like some five-year old who can't get his own way."
"God. Men! You're just as bad as he is. You're both stubborn and pig- headed."
"I'm not the one being an idiot".
"No, but you're not helping. This is new for Duncan. You know that."
" 'Manda', as we said earlier, I'm not about to change the habits of a lifetime. Not even for him. He knows how I feel, but-"
"Does he? Have you ever really told him?"
"Of course I have." But even as the words were out of his mouth, he realised they weren't really true. He'd mentioned, in a moment of deep honesty and intimacy, that he cared deeply for Mac, had never really met anyone else like him. Mac knew he was physically attracted to him. But it was beyond that. Did Duncan really know, Methos wondered now. Does he know how much I'll miss him? How difficult this will be? How I wouldn't even think of leaving without saying goodbye? That this is how much I care. I've lost count of how many times I've slipped away in the night, or even the middle of the day, like a ghost. Taking the easy way out, the coward's way out. Does Duncan know how much, even now, my heart is fighting against my head; telling me that, if he says the word, I would stay anyway? It was frightening. It was dangerous. It could get him killed if he stayed, and yet for the first time in 5000 years he almost considered it worth the risk. He wished there was another way, but he just couldn't stay.
"I-I can't stay, Amanda. I didn't want to leave like this. I hoped he'd understand; that I could say goodbye. I won't stay here and get myself killed over this, even for him", he told her softly.
"So, don't tell me. Tell him. He may surprise you. Don't let this be another regret, Methos. Even if you do leave, alone, don't leave without saying goodbye. Make him listen".
"I…You're right. I have to try".
Smiling sadly, Amanda kissed him on the cheek, bade him goodbye, and let herself out of the apartment.
"So, how was he?" Duncan asked causally, as Amanda arrived back at the loft. She had decided to get a taxi back, not knowing how either man would react at that moment to being in the same space as each other. She was sure Methos could make Duncan understand, but he would need a little time to prepare himself. Meanwhile, she did have her favourite Scotsman to visit with.
"Miserable", she replied bluntly.
"Oh".
"He isn't going out of spite, you know. And he wasn't planning to just disappear without a word…"
"Sure he wasn't", Duncan drawled.
Amanda just gave him a look.
"Yeah, alright. That's not fair. He has tried to talk about it, I guess. After I forced him to tell me what the problem was. He has been a lot more open since…We both have. He's…I don't know. He's my best friend, I guess. I-I'll miss him."
"So tell him that. Don't let him just leave. This isn't easy for him, you know. And it's not some game. He's in danger. The way he tells it, I'm rather surprised he hasn't left already. But he won't do that. Not to you. It's the way he survives. You know that. You have to reinvent a new life every once in while. Methos more than most. Do you realise how unusual you are, that you have always kept your original name?"
Duncan just nodded; not sure what he supposed to say.
"All I'm saying is…let him explain, and try to understand".
"I-I guess I can do that", Duncan replied, not trusting himself to say anymore. He was unsure of, and more than a little afraid, of what may come out. Amanda's earlier statement about denial was still weighing heavy on his mind. He knew the Old Man was in danger; he knew he had to do whatever it took to survive. Realistically, he knew he couldn't fight every challenge, and couldn't hope to avoid the Watchers if – maybe when – they finally connected Adam Pierson and Methos. So, why was he so angry about the way that Methos was handling this?
"Ok, I did not come here to spend the whole time trying to cheer you two up. Or to get myself depressed while doing so. So, enough for one day. Now, what are you cooking for dinner?"
Duncan smiled and, trying to put Methos out of his mind for the evening, set about discussing dinner.
The rest of the weekend passed quickly. Duncan enjoyed the familiar comfort of spending time with Amanda. Amanda, true to her word, didn't mention Methos again. Instead she kept Duncan's spirits high and, on Sunday afternoon announced she was going to say goodbye to a certain somebody, before Duncan drove her to the airport. It was obvious who the person was but Duncan let her go without saying a word, but also without offering to drive her there this time. It was a warm afternoon so Amanda walked to Methos' apartment, giving Duncan some time alone with his thoughts, which they both knew would be focused on just one person.
Methos, meanwhile, had been busy creating a new identity for himself. It was something he'd done many times before but, even with his experience, he knew it was risky. As usual he was anxious that everything was done right and there would be no questions asked about either the death of Adam Pierson or the paperwork of his next identity. Adam would have to go soon, and as soon as he did, Methos would be on a plane to Australia. He hadn't spent time there in quite a while, but he liked the country a lot. It was, figuratively speaking, a million miles away from the States, yet had the advantage of being English-speaking. Not that language would have been a problem in most places, but English was what he was used to now. Not to mention the fact that Australia was renowned for it's beer.
It was 4pm on Sunday afternoon when he was disturbed by the buzz of an immortal, closely followed by a knock on his apartment door. Figuring that it had to be one of two people, he left his sword where it was, but within eyesight, and opened the door to find his first guess had been correct.
"Hi, 'Manda".
"Methos, darling, I've come to say goodbye…"
"I thought as much. I hoped you would. It-it may be some time before I see you again…"
As he spoke he gestured for her to come inside, and discreetly peered past her in the corridor. Just in case.
"Sorry, sweetie, I'm alone", she told him with a small smile, as she walked past him and sat down on the sofa.
Methos shrugged.
"If it's any consolation, I think if you try to talk to him he may listen…"
"Big of him. I don't know why I should be the one to approach him, though. If anything, he should come and apologise to me…"
"Yes, well, maybe, but, as I said before, you're both as bad as each other, and you can't really start playing the blame card or the who said what first game."
"But, if he's really willing to talk, to listen, he should come to me. Why should I chase after him?"
"Because you want to?" This was met with a raised eyebrow. Amanda met it with a stare of her own and after a minute one of Methos' infamous smirks found it's way onto his face. Amanda grinned in response. Could they help it if they were on a similar wavelength where Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod was concerned?
"Anyway, darling, what I mean is, just talk to him. Both of you have to stop playing games. You're older than him so make him listen."
"I'm older…Oh, good one, Amanda. That may work if he was 10 and I was 13". Methos erupted into fits of laughter.
"You know what I mean. Look, I've tried my best. Given him what I see as your point of view. I think he realises he over-reacted, but you know how proud he is. And, he's still a bit confused about his feelings for you."
"He has feelings for me?"
"Oh, come one, Methos. You're not stupid. Why do you think he was so angry that you didn't tell him? He thinks you're going to disappear from his life and I think he's just realised just how much he wants you to be in his life."
"But he knows I have to leave. It's the only sensible option".
"Since when has love been sensible?"
"Yeah, tell me about. If it was I wouldn't be in this mess".
"I wasn't actually talking about you".
"Duncan?! Yeah, right. He's just gotten too used to me steeling his beer." But Methos couldn't help the slight tone of hope and optimism that underlaid the sarcasm.
Amanda just raised an eyebrow in response, and got up to leave.
"Ok, well, I have to go. Good luck, and watch your head."
"You too", Methos replied, standing up to see her to the door.
"I'll miss you. If there is a way of getting in touch…"
"I'll miss you too. Thank you, for everything. You're a good friend, Amanda. If there's a way to see you, I will. I plan to be in Australia. Beyond that, I can't really say".
"I know. Be careful, ok?"
"Always. And you. Let Connor look after you for a while. He's a good man. And, promise me you'll keep an eye on Mac, if necessary. Both of you. I'll do my best, but…"
"I know you will. He'll miss you a great deal, but he'll be alright. Just make sure you say goodbye. Even if you say nothing else…"
"I will. He deserves that much".
"Good. I'll…see you around?"
"Definitely. Bye, Amanda".
"Bye, Methos, darling". He kissed her check, and closed the door behind her. It was true. He would miss her. But the break had to be as clean as possible. Still, it was harder than he thought it would be, saying goodbye to Amanda. She had become a good friend. Yet the difficulty of that goodbye would be nothing compared to the one he had still to say. Knowing he still wasn't ready for that, he began the surprisingly quick process of packing up his belonging. A lot of his stuff was semi-permanently in storage anyway. Absently, he noted how depressingly little he really had to show for 5000 years of life.
A couple of hours later, having left Amanda at the airport, Duncan drove slowly back towards the loft. He felt restless, and empty. It was as if he had suddenly come back to reality, with a bump. Amanda's visit had been a pleasant distraction. Now, all he seemed to be doing was replaying their conversations about Methos and his own last conversation with the Old Man. He knew Amanda was right. He couldn't just let Methos leave. Whatever else happened, he realised that he'd rather give the Old Man a chance to say goodbye than just let him disappear. With a start, he realised that, even though he wanted to see Methos, what if Methos didn't want to see him? How did he know that he hadn't already left?
'No! He wouldn't!' he thought. The thought that the Old Man could be gone already frightened him. Left him cold. After all, he had been pretty judgmental about his friend's plans – again. Why would Methos bother to stay around any longer after that?
'Because he's better than that', he told himself.
But, despite this, he had the sudden feeling that time was of the essence. He couldn't let Methos just slip away. Not without saying goodbye. Not without even trying, just once more, to make him stay. He had a glimpse of his life without Methos, empty and cold, and it was not one he cared for. Finally letting his head notice the decision that his heart had already made, he turned the car around, and roared up the road in the opposite direction. He just hoped he wasn't too late.
Methos took one last look out of the window of his now empty-looking apartment. Adam Pierson didn't have many belongings anyway. Sadly, poor Adam would be just setting on his way for a trip to New York when he would be found brutally murdered. His killer would leave no fingerprints or motives and the police would be stumped. Ironically his last challenge had been from a man who looked pretty much like him – enough to be identified as Adam Pierson. He would have Adam's Watcher ID on him, and his driver's license. A blond, pony-tailed, bearded man in a baseball cap wandering away from the vicinity – clearly too shocked at such an event to even talk to the police – would hardly be noticed. And, even if remembered, they would find that he was a ghost. Sometime later an Australian with a crew cut would board a plane at Seacouver airport, going home after travelling around the States for several years. He'd even arranged a fake Quickening. In case his Watcher was cleverer than he thought and managed to catch him up before it was all over. It was all set. 'Adam' was in place, ready to be discovered. He could be gone tonight.
So, why didn't he feel pleased, relieved? He didn't even have to answer that one. It was the same reason why he was still staring pathetically out of his window, hoping for a glance of a certain ThunderBird. It was the reason why he wasn't already out of the door. He shook his head. Duncan wouldn't come. He would have either accepted that Methos had to go, and just let him go – perhaps even thought he would have left already. Or else, he had just given up arguing. Or was, as usual, being too stubborn to make the first move. Possibly thought that Methos wouldn't want to talk to him either. In truth, there was nothing Methos wanted more than to see Duncan MacLeod walk through his door, even if it was to judge him once again.
Finally telling himself that enough was enough, and that he should just go, he forced himself to pick up his bags and leave the apartment. Leave Adam. Leave Seacouver. Leave Duncan. It was better this way, he told himself. But he didn't believe himself for a minute. He didn't care though. He'd been lying to himself for long enough, what was once more? Firmly closing the door behind him, he left without a single glance behind him.
Fifteen minutes later, Methos looked around him, wondering where the Hell he was. He had meant to go directly to the warehouse on the other side of town, where he'd hidden the body. Really he had. But, he'd obviously been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he had ended up just wandering around aimlessly. Catching sight of a familiar street, he shook his head. No, not aimlessly. His subconscious obviously knew exactly where it wanted to go. Grinning wryly, he turned a corner and walked slowly up the side-street until he came to a familiar building. A now-boarded up blues bar. The neon sign on the wall now dark, the place deathly quiet. 'Joes'.
'Oh, Joe, my friend, I wish you were here now', Methos thought, staring at the place where he'd always been welcome, always safe. No longer.
'You'd tell me if I was making the right decision. You were always so much wiser than your years.' With a sniff, Methos bade his friend one final farewell, and turned away.
Praying he wasn't too late, Duncan pulled up outside Methos' apartment block. He raced up the stairs. Skidding to a halt outside his friend's apartment, he realised that he wasn't detecting an Immortal inside. Damn! He was too late, wasn't he? He shook his head, refusing to believe. Maybe he'd just popped out for five minutes. With a sudden flourish, before he really realised what he was doing, Duncan had kicked the apartment door in. It was dark, cold. Empty. The last bit of Duncan's hope left him as he noticed the empty shelves, empty cupboards, empty wardrobe. Methos had gone. Swearing at the Old Man, at himself, and at the world in general, Duncan could do nothing else but return to his car and go home. Alone.
Still wishing he knew for certain whether he was doing the right thing, and more than ever wishing his mortal friend was there, Methos quietly slipped away from 'Joes' into the night.
"A clean break, old man", he told himself again, but knew that it was much, much too late for anything that easy.
Duncan found himself stuck in traffic on the way back to the dojo, which only made his foul mood a million times worse. All he wanted to do now was go home, have a couple of triple measures of his favourite scotch and then go and have a workout and beat the crap out of something. If a certain person wasn't there to be the recipient of his frustration, then at the very least his long-suffered punch-bag would have to do the job. After drumming his fingers against the wheel for fifteen minutes, his annoyance was jointed by the beginning of self-righteous resignation and self-pity. He had nothing else to do but listen to his thoughts as they played through his mind over and over again, telling him what an idiot he had been to let Methos go, that he should have tried harder to talk him out of leaving or helped him when he asked.
Twenty minutes after leaving 'Joe's' Methos wondered why he still hadn't made it the warehouse. As if to torture him his subconscious had this time bought him to Duncan's front door. Not that he had really resisted. He would leave it to fate he decided. If Mac was there he would go and try and talk to him, at least say a proper goodbye. If not, well, it was too late. So be it. Decision made, he cautiously approached the dojo, every nerve of his being reaching out for a sign of Immortal presence.
But, the place was dark and empty. Duncan was out. Methos sighed and resolutely turned on his heel and started to walk away. At least he could tell Amanda, one day, that he had tried.
Forty-five minutes after Duncan left Methos' deserted apartment, he finally pulled into the road where he lived. He was angry, tired, fed-up, restless and empty. And, of course, sorry for himself. Damn! Why did he have to leave things too late! It was too ironic. It took the fact that Methos was leaving to finally make him see just how much he needed the other man to stay in his life. He was just about to park when he heard the unmistakable buzz of another Immortal. Unable to see anyone in the dark, he wondered whether he dared hope that it was Methos.
Halfway back up the road, Methos gasped as he was assaulted by the buzz of an Immortal. This was closely followed by the just as unmistakable sight and sound of Mac's Thunderbird roaring down the street towards the dojo. Methos stepped into the shadows and waited until his friend had parked. He couldn't help a grin suddenly appearing on his face, and the thought that maybe his sub-conscious and fate knew something he didn't.
Duncan got out of his car cautiously, drawing his sword. He stood in front of his dojo waiting. No-one approached him but the buzz was still there. He tensed, wondering if he assumed too much in thinking it would be Methos. It could just be an ordinary challenge. He shook his head, wondering when challenges had become such an ordinary part of his life. Whoever it was, though, he wasn't about to wait all night for them to make a move.
"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," he announced.
"I know who you are", a familiar voice said softly.
"M-Methos", Duncan breathed, as he friend slowly appeared out of the shadows.
"Mac". The reply was curt but Methos' voice wasn't quite steady.
Duncan stared at his friend.
"What…What have you done?" Methos was wearing a black baseball cap, and was sporting a ponytail and goatee. Duncan would have laughed if the meeting didn't seem so serious. Part of him almost expected Methos to challenge him.
"It's called a disguise".
"Yeah. I-I went to your apartment. I thought you'd already gone", Duncan stated.
"I had. Then I went to say bye to Joe. After that I found myself outside your dojo. Guess I really can't do clean breaks anymore…" He gave a short, humourless laugh.
"So you're really leaving?" Duncan asked, a touch of anger in his voice.
"I don't have a choice".
"Yeah. So you keep saying. Just who are you trying to convince? I've always believed that we have choices".
"Mac, I didn't come here to argue again."
"So why are you here?" The reply was bitter and terse. Methos stared at him, then shook his head. This was a bad idea, he told himself.
"Suddenly, I'm really not so sure".
"Oh, well. You'd better run then. Don't want to miss your plane!"
"Fine!" He'd tried; but it was true. He didn't have the time to argue with Mac again.
He turned and started to walk away, refusing to look at his friend. It was the best way, it was easier this way. He'd done it before and he was sure he'd do it again. He could do this, he told himself. He wasn't sure he believed him though. Not this time.
"Methos-"
"What, Mac?", he snapped, not stopping.
'Shit! Don't leave, don't leave!'
Duncan's mental cry came through loud and clear. Methos raised an eyebrow in surprise, and finally, slowly, turned back to face Duncan.
"Why?" he asked calmly. If they were going to part on good terms, he would give it one last chance. As much as he hated to admit it, Duncan was worth that much, was worth that much to him. That shout, so unlike Duncan, had cut through him. Could it really be that Duncan was…scared?
"Why what?" Duncan whispered.
"Why shouldn't I leave?"
Duncan said nothing for a minute. He stood and gulped at empty air, obviously searching for words. His eyes searched Methos' and the older man had to work hard to meet their intensity. Again he wondered, almost absently, what was this thing between them?
Slowly Duncan stepped towards Methos. Methos stood his ground, heart pounding despite himself, and waited to hear what the Scot would say. Damn! What was it about the Highlander than made him feel like a nervous teenager?
"Don't leave", he repeated.
"You-you already said that". But his heart wasn't in it. Methos was already half-lost in the Highlander's dark eyes. Falling even deeper.
"I know", Duncan smiled.
"Because it's not the brave, honourable decision? It's not your decision to make".
"No. Because…because what would I do without you? Everyone has left me, Methos. Tessa, Fitz, Darius, Richie, Joe. I-I don't know what I'd do if you left as well".
Methos gulped.
"Duncan, you'd be fine. You…have Amanda".
"It's not the same. You know that".
"Duncan. Don't".
"Don't what? Do this?" He stepped even closer, invading Methos' personal space, almost touching him. Methos felt his heart quicken even more, but couldn't bring himself to break eye-contact, or the intense connection between them.
"It's too dangerous".
"So we'll fight it together".
"No, I can't do that to you".
"I'm offering. You aren't making me do anything I don't want to".
'Oh God', thought Methos. Does he know what he's saying? Does he know what he's doing to me? He could feel his arousal growing, even as he thought about how much he was attracted to the Highlander. Part of him wondered whether Duncan was becoming aroused by this heat between them, but he didn't dare try to find out. He wondered whether Amanda had been even a little correct when she'd said that Duncan was attracted to him.
"Duncan, I can't...I can't do that to you".
"It will be alright. I'll be alright."
"Maybe you will. But I won't! I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you because of me, because of my problems. I couldn't put you in danger."
"So you're just leaving me".
Methos said nothing.
"A wise man once told me that I had to stop thinking and just act. And a very wise woman told me that I should try to understand. I-I want to, Methos. I really do. And I've wasted too much time already."
"Duncan, don't do this. I don't know whether I can refuse you", he whispered.
"So don't", Duncan whispered back.
Methos closed his eyes. When he opened them a second later Duncan was still standing in front of him, his eyes peering into Methos' soul. A small smile played around his lips.
Oh God. His lips. Way did he have to think about Duncan's lips? Lips which were so close to his own…
It was no good. He couldn't resist any longer. Somehow the conversation had gone from an argument to a seduction, and it was too late to go back. Even Duncan had to know that. Leaning forward, Methos caught Duncan's lips in a soft light kiss. Just as he was about to pull away he felt Duncan return the pressure. He felt Duncan's hands reach up to pull him closer, close around the back of his head. The touch was both searing and cleansing. His own hands were suddenly in Duncan's hair.
The kiss deepened, mouths opened and tongues sought each other. Methos wondered why they'd had to wait so long. He felt like a starving man suddenly being given a feast. He didn't think he'd ever be able to let go. His legs were going weak, but it was too late. He'd already fallen.
After what seemed like an eternity, Duncan broke the kiss. Methos stumbled and blinked. Duncan grabbed his arm to steady him, and he found himself gazing into the Highlander's eyes. They were wide and dilated with desire.
"Wow", Methos breathed.
Duncan licked his lips, and Methos could hardly suppress a moan. Gods, the man was sexy.
"Let's…let's take this inside", Duncan said huskily.
Methos took a deep breath.
"Are you sure about this?" he had to ask.
"Oh yes", Duncan breathed, the sincerity obvious in both his voice and his eyes.
Methos grinned. His mind had long since stopped trying to work out when his fantasies had become reality. Now it was just enjoying being along for the ride. Any point of no return had long since been passed.
With a similar stupid grin plastered on his own face, Duncan took Methos' hand and led him into the dojo. They lasted until they got into the lift up to the loft before Methos backed Duncan against the wall and captured his lips in another kiss. By the time they reached the loft, both men were wearing decidedly less clothes.
"Bed", breathed Methos.
Duncan nodded and Methos decided that the time for talking was well and truly over.
Duncan woke up the next morning with a grin on his face. It took him a minute to remember why. Then it came to him. Last night. Him and Methos. It had been amazing, unlike anything he'd experienced before. Hot on the heels of that realisation, though, came another. Methos was gone. He couldn't sense him, and somehow he had the feeling that he hadn't just popped out to get some bagels for breakfast. Methos was truly gone; for good. He suddenly saw last night for what it really was – a goodbye. Duncan sighed and got up to shower. He wondered why he had bothered to think it was anything else, but he didn't really feel resentful. Methos had said goodbye, and Duncan certainly didn't regret any of the night before. At least now they both knew the truth. He thought back. He vaguely remembered asking again that Methos stay. Methos had agreed. Looking back, he realised that they had both known he was lying. He'd had no choice. Now all that was left was an aching emptiness.
For the next two days Duncan tried to adjust to the idea of not having Methos in his life. He'd heard on the news that a man with the ID of Adam Pierson had been found decapitated, just outside of town, and guessed that by now Methos was safely miles away living his new life. Without him. Outwardly he was going through the motions, but inside all he could think of was Methos. And their one night together. The taste of his lips, the feel of his skin against his own…
The sound of the letterbox interrupted his thoughts and he rushed to see what had been delivered, grateful for the distraction.
It was a thin, plain, white envelope with no return address. Duncan frowned and opened it. Inside was a plane ticket to Australia, an Australian-issue passport and a short note written in very familiar handwriting:
'Mac
I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine. I think you'll like him and he'd like you to come visit. He's name's Peter Adams. He can be a bit of a cynical, sarcastic old bastard sometimes but he means well. He has a friend called Robert McDonald. He's got Scottish ancestors somewhere along the line. I think there's something going on between them, but I told them you wouldn't mind. Maybe we'll see you sometime.
M'.
Duncan could hardly believe it. He read the note again, then opened the passport and gazed at his own picture above the name Robert McDonald. Could he really just leave and go to Australia? Could he just leave his old life, his home, his identity and become someone else? Just for Methos?
Sometimes, just sometimes, you had a choice. And sometimes, when you made that choice, there was no choice whatsoever. Maybe this time they'd even get to that opera. Duncan grinned and began to pack.
"Up on the Watershed, standing at the fork in the road
You stand there and agonise, till your agony's your heaviest load
You can't fly as the crow flies, get used to the country mile
When you're learning to face the path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while"
'Watershed', by Indigo Girls