After Sundown
September, 1996
Richie had left Paris and had now gotten himself into a fine mess on the road. He'd been driving through town since the previous night and had no idea what town he was in now. All he knew was he had managed to get somewhere in Western Europe. He'd left France months ago, shortly after Duncan had attempted to take his head while under the influence of the Dark Quickening. How Richie remembered Duncan as he prepared to take his head, how he laughed at Richie's defeat, and the fear that built up in Richie the split second before Duncan was shot. That was the worst day of his life. Now, Richie thought, as he took off his helmet to get a look at his current surroundings, and searching for something to tell him just where he'd gotten but to no avail, this day wasn't much better.
"Ah Hell," Richie spat, "I'll find someone to ask."
Richie put his helmet back on, started up his bike again, and continued driving. He didn't stop until he came across a bar, the Crossfire. He went in and saw it was practically empty, but as far as he recalled, the real action didn't get started in bars until night. A blonde bartender in a red tank top came around from the back room and waltzed behind the counter, "Can I help you?"
"Uh, yeah," Richie gasped, "get me a beer."
Richie dropped in a chair in the middle of the room as he tried to catch his breath. For some time, he'd been having extreme difficulties breathing. Although the cause for it vexed Richie, he didn't have any allergies, he could breathe just fine while wearing his helmet.
As Richie engrossed himself in deep inhaling and exhaling, the bartender came back around with a mug of beer on a tray. When she saw him over at a table, she walked over and seated herself just by him.
"Damn, guy, you look like you could use a whole keg, what the hell happened to you?" she asked.
Richie took the mug and downed most of it in one gulp, he placed the mug back on the tray and said, "I have no idea...I...I've been on the road for about 18 hours now and...out of nowhere, I just......I'm not feeling so hot."
The lady planted a hand on his forehead, Richie couldn't believe it, 23 years old and he still had people checking to see if he had a temperature.
"I'm not surprised, you're in a cold sweat, and you're fucking flushed, have you seen a doctor?" she asked.
Oh yeah, what was Richie going to say? "No, I haven't had a doctor examine me since I died"? Not likely.
"Actually, I don't even know what damn town I'm in, so screw seeing a doctor on such short notice, huh?" Richie nervously laughed.
"You're not from around here?" the woman asked, sounding partly in disbelief.
"Actually, I left Paris some time ago and I...just haven't really stopped anywhere," Richie said.
"I don't believe it," the lady scoffed, "a nice looking man like you, not from around here?"
"Why? Where am I?" Richie asked.
"Sweetie, you are in Levingston, one of the more populated, well socialized, small towns of Europe. Don't get me wrong, the town's great, the people are too, but the town's so small, there's only about 2,987 of us here," she said.
"Funny, I've never heard of this place," Richie said.
"Well that's because it's so small, you won't find it on any map, just like those Amish towns in Illinois," she said.
"That a fact?" Richie asked, "Can you tell me how to get out of this town?"
"Well, you go down that road," the waitress pointed out the window to the road which he had been on, "for about another seven miles...then you're gonna come into another small town, Victor, that has about 1,800 people...You go ahead two miles and boom, you're out of Europe."
"Wonderful, I'm looking to get out of here soon," Richie said.
"Uh, look, I'm gonna recommend you see my doctor," the lady reached down into her jeans and pulled out a business card, "here's his card, I assure you he's no quack."
Richie looked at the lady, then down at the business card:
Doctor Van Leeway
3165 Levingston Boulevard #2
Levingston, Europe 66932
Eh, what the hell? Richie thought as he shoved the card in his pocket, "How much for the drink?"
"'S on the house," the lady said, "We got a thing here at the Crossfire, every 10th customer we get in the afternoon gets a free drink."
"I'll have to remember that if I ever come around here again, thanks for your help..." Richie extended his arm to shake hands with the waitress.
"Roxanne Bedouin" she replied as she grasped his hand and shook it.
"I think I'll go see this guy and see if he can help me," Richie nodded as they both placed their arms at their sides again.
"Well good, good," Roxanne said, "so maybe I'll see you another time?"
"Maybe," Richie said as he managed to crack a smile.
Richie had gone to the doctor's office and gone through the regular procedure, first he had to wait before the doctor would see him. The wait took longer than expected.
What's keeping him? Richie thought, getting impatient in a hurry. They say time heals everything; I've been here so fricking long, my mysterious illness has cured itself.
Taking that into consideration, Richie stood up and said barely audible as he headed towards the exit, "I may as well just get back on my bike and get my ass..."
"Dr. Leeway will see you now," the nurse at the desk said.
"Into yet another backless gown and hope I don't freeze it off so I have to go through the rest of my days ass-less," Richie said to himself as he headed the opposite direction over to the exam room.
He spent the next hour getting poked, prodded, putted, asked embarrassing questions, catching a draft in the most unfitting places, and finally, he was sitting on the exam table awaiting the obvious results.
"Well, you seem to be in excellent condition, I can't find anything wrong with you," Dr. Leeway explained, "have you been getting any sleep lately?"
"Not really, no," Richie said.
"Well then." Dr. Leeway scribbled down something on a piece of paper and tore it off the pad, "I want you to take this prescription down to the drugstore, and that should be enough pills to put out an elephant for month, so be careful with them. Just take two when you get home, then when you wake up, take two more, you need to get your rest."
"Then what?" Richie asked.
"Well, after that, if you don't get enough sleep tomorrow night, take two pills...but be careful, don't overload on them," Dr. Leeway said.
"Wonderful," Richie sighed, "can I get dressed now?"
"Yes you may, your clothes are right where you left them," he replied, "I'll leave you in private."
"Thank you, doctor," Richie grumbled to himself.
Richie waited until the doctor was gone, then he slipped out of the gown and began dressing himself. Right about now, sleep sounded good to him, he hadn't gotten any real sleep in the last few weeks. Every night he tried, he was haunted by memories of Duncan, circling him, grinning, ready to kill him, his own student! After that he would go several days without sleep, then he'd get by on two or three hours before he remembered Duncan, then he'd go days without again. Then it got worse, first he went a week without sleep, then 12 days, then several weeks on end. Maybe he would get lucky and the pills would be hard-core drugs that would just knock him out, and bring sleep with no dreams. He could only hope. He didn't want to remember what happened. He didn't want to remember Duncan.
By the time Richie had gotten out of the drug store, it was already dark. So, he decided to go ahead the seven miles and get out of town. However, it didn't quite work out that way. No more than two miles from the office, the road started getting bumpy, and Richie got thrown off and hit his head against a street sign pole. After moaning in agony for a few minutes, Richie pulled himself together and managed to get himself up on his feet. However, he soon found out his bike wasn't totaled in the crash, but he couldn't get it started to save his life. By now most garages would probably be closed, Richie figured. Then, he looked down the next block and saw his opportunity of what to do for the night. He saw a large lit sign reading Blue Moon Hotel.
Seeing this as the best offer he'd had for the day, Richie hauled his bike down the next block, and decided to check in for the night. Walking into the lobby, he was stunned at the sight of a tall, blonde woman in a blue top and black skirt, working behind the front desk, so he went over to her and said, "Excuse me, I'd like a room for the night."
The woman turned around, Richie was amazed by her beauty, she had sparkling blue eyes and an angelic face and ruby red lips.
"How many beds?" she asked.
"Huh?" Richie asked, returning to reality.
"Would you like a room with one bed or two?" the woman rephrased.
"One," he said.
"I.D.?"
Richie took out his wallet and showed her his I.D.
"Richard Ryan," the lady read, "I don't believe I've seen you before."
"Well you wouldn't, I'm not from here, I was passing through town and I...never mind, I don't want to bore you with long, tedious stories about my 'exciting' life," Richie said.
"Okay, well I'm not exactly sure how they run hotels where you're from, but here, the customers are required to fill out some forms before they can check them in," the lady said.
She bent down behind the desk and handed Richie a clipboard with the forms attached.
"No problem."
Richie took the clipboard, and a pen from the desk, and plopped down on the leather couch over by the wall. He basically lied through his teeth about everything except for his name and a few other things, then he handed the forms back to the lady. She observed them for a minute while Richie waited.
"Allright, did you have any certain room in mind?" she asked.
"Oh...I'm not really..."
"I'm sorry, I forgot, you've never been here...well, we try to give our customers the best here at the Blue Moon...in fact," the lady turned around and took a key off the wall, "Room 165 should be suiting for you. If you have any complaints, just let us know, we're only too happy to serve."
Richie took the key and nodded as he said, "thanks."
Richie started to walk off, but he turned around and headed back to the desk.
"What's your name?"
"Carolyn Lull."
"I'll remember that."
Richie found his room to be more than he bargained for: velvet curtains, crystal lights, a hard marble floor, a fully stocked mini-bar, a king sized bed with perfectly white sheets, and in the bathroom was a wine colored marble tub with a built in shower, a wide wine colored sink on a large emerald green fiber glass counter, and practically everything you find in a first aid kid stocked in the cupboard beside the wash cloths.
"Band-aids, ointments, burn creams, rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, Q-tips, hydrogen peroxide, antibacterial cream...well, they should be happy to know they won't have to restock when I leave," Richie laughed to himself as he headed back to his bedroom.
Richie drew back the red velvet curtains and saw he had quite a view from the balcony, so he stepped outside and looked around. For a small town, it sure looked wealthy; theatres, 5-star restaurants, casinos. He had a difficult time believing that this town could be as small as the lady at the bar said. The only thing to show in the last small town he was in was a museum the size of a regular two-story house, and a library across that street that could match the museum in size. Richie headed back into his room, closed the glass sliding door, and drew the curtains.
Richie plopped down on the bed and realized he hadn't noticed just how tired he was. This was beyond simple tired, this was exhaustion. Richie figured now would be a good time to take the pills get some sleep, he went over to the phone and dialed the front desk.
"Yes Mister Ryan?"
"Hello Carolyn, I'd like to have some water brought up to my room."
"There should be already...we always leave a large pitcher full in every room."
"Hold on a minute."
Richie looked around the room and saw the glass pitcher of ice water on a silver tray, resting on the table.
"Oh...I'm sorry, I didn't see it."
"That's quite allright, is there anything else you need?"
"Not at the moment," he said.
"Well if you do need anything, you just let us know."
"I will."
Richie hung up the phone, went over to the table and poured himself a glass of water. He took out the sleeping pills, and downed them. However, he didn't just take two, he didn't want the drugs to wear off anytime soon, so he took a dozen of them. He put the bottle on the table and went over to his bed. He was so tired he hardly noticed the bottle rolling off the table. He was too exhausted to worry about that just now. When he was certain he couldn't keep awake any longer, he rested his head against the pillows, turned on his side and slowly drifted into sleep. For a few hours, he didn't even move, he was practically dead to world, not even noticing the buzz coming from down in the street.
"Bloody hell," Methos said as he slammed the door on his jeep.
A fine time for it to die, in this town, he absolutely hated coming to Levingston, he didn't care how nice or intriguing it appeared to be. He liked to avoid the town at all costs when possible.
He and Duncan had gotten into a fight with one another, and after almost killing each other and practically destroying the barge, Methos decided it was best to be abroad until Duncan's temper calmed down.
Now here he was stuck in one of the worst parts of Western Europe, and if that weren't bad enough, he could feel the buzz of another Immortal in a room in the hotel right in front of him. As Methos turned around, he noticed something at the end of the block. Richie's motorcycle, he recognized that thing anywhere.
"Well, looks like I've got two heads to keep intact tonight," he thought.
Methos took his bags out of the back of the jeep and went in, biting his tongue until he reached the front desk.
Working behind it was a tall woman with reddish-brown hair in a red silk blouse and a black skirt, seeming in her 40s.
"Welcome to the Blue Moon hotel, may I help you, sir?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm Adam Pierson, I'd like a room for the night," he said.
After filling out the forms, Methos took his bags up to the next floor, and noticed the buzz from across the hall. First he put his bags in his room, then he headed over to Richie's room. He grabbed the doorknob and expected it to be locked, but the minute he turned it, the door opened. Methos walked in and was shocked by the sight of Richie on the bed, writhing and moaning in his sleep, acting as if someone had bound and gagged him. Methos walked over to the bed just as Richie started screaming in fear, and Methos was worried that he knew the answer as to why.
Methos got on the bed and grabbed Richie as he started shaking and writhing on the bed, it was difficult to keep a good hold on him, but Methos managed to. It then occurred to him what he needed to do to get Richie to wake up and calm down. He started shaking Richie's body, much more than he would've just done in his sleep. Richie slowly woke up and when he saw Methos holding him, he screamed. Methos, confused by the noise, let go of Richie as he backed up against the head of the bed.
"Adam!" Richie screamed in almost disbelief.
Richie began gasping for air, and Methos figured if given the chance, Richie would react violently. Methos placed his hands on Richie's shoulders to prevent him from doing anything drastic. He looked the youth in the eyes and said, "Relax kid, it's just me."
Richie's breathing rate calmed down and he grumbled something to himself, holding one hand over his eye as his fingers rested against his forehead, then he turned to Methos and said, "Where's Mac? Is he with you?!"
Methos was shocked by what he saw, Richie, the lively, energetic, flirtatious young man he met months ago, was now afraid and confused...
And upset, as Richie spoke to him just a minute ago, he looked as if he were ready to cry. Methos knew where Richie was getting by asking about Duncan, "No, I'm here alone," he assured the boy, "You don't need to worry about that."
"I'm sorry, it's just.....and he.........I.......he..." Richie sighed as tears rolled down his face, "he tried to kill me, Adam....he tried to kill me! Did you know that?"
"Yes I did, I'm sorry...but Richie, you are not the only one who suffered through that, he tried to kill me too, Sean Burns is dead, a woman led to believe her husband left her, and now both of them remember the man who tried to kill them...And MacLeod himself has suffered because of what he remembers while he was influenced by the Dark Quickening."
"Yeah right," Richie spat.
"Richie..."
"He tried to kill me before that, did you know that?!" Richie asked, "He said he was probably going crazy, damn near took my head again!"
"Richie!" Methos said as he tightened his grip on the boy, "You cannot believe that MacLeod would do anything to intentionally hurt you."
"Oh no?" Richie asked, "I talked to him, I asked him when he damn near killed me why teachers kill their students....because there can be only one in the end...I knew Mac killed some guys he never knew but............I didn't know he'd try and kill me."
Methos held the boy close and let him sob into his chest as he tried to talk, "the odds of me surviving the game aren't good...he already knew that! After I left...I figured, that must be why he came after me."
"Richie," Methos said in the most soothing tone he had, "he didn't know what he was doing, he couldn't control it...you have to know that..."
"Oh?" Richie looked up at Methos, "How? How am I supposed to believe that after what he did to me? How am I supposed to believe that this wasn't any of his doing, that it wasn't really Duncan MacLeod doing it?"
"He tried to kill me in a church while he was under the power of the Dark Quickening, every Immortal knows the Rules, no fighting on Holy Ground is one of them. You know that, every Immortal knows that, and they have to go by the Rules," Methos told him.
Methos had neglected to mention that he'd known in his time quite a few Immortals who broke the Rules, but he figured the kid didn't need to know that now. Not as vulnerable and distrusting as he was now.
"Adam, how am I going to believe that Mac is what he says he is? He's 400 years old, he's been around since before anybody I know has been born, how can I trust him when he says he is what he is? How do I know it's not just an act? I mean...how do I know he's not an Immortal like Slan Quince, or someone like that?"
"For Immortals, it's usually very hard to be sure about it," Methos said, "For their Watchers however, it's another story...they know everything about MacLeod. If he was anything like what you think he is, they would've said something before now."
"Yeah, sure, but what about the Watcher's code? Never interfere? Remember that? How would I know anything about Mac then?"
"Remember Joe Dawson?" Methos asked, "He didn't exactly follow the code, it also says Immortals aren't supposed to know Watchers even exist. Trust me, he wouldn't even bother getting acquainted with MacLeod if he was like that."
Richie didn't know what to say, and instead looked away from Methos and said nothing. He was embarrassed, he felt like an idiot, and he also felt like he was allowing himself to get suckered into something.
"Richie," Methos said, "I came to Europe because we got in a fight and could not stand to even speak to one another...before that, all he talked about was how horrible he felt when he acknowledged the fact that he nearly killed you. Now, I'm a bit older than you could ever think, in my time, I've come to know when people feign emotional distress...believe me kid, he wasn't acting when I was staying with him."
"What did you two fight about?" Richie asked.
"Well I was staying with him on the barge, and he just got tired of having me around, he complained I always went to him when I couldn't stay anywhere else...but for the most of it, I just strung him along, I wanted to see how angry I could get him before he started ripping out his hair," Methos said.
Richie made a sound that Methos recognized as either a laugh, or a choked back sob. His intention was to get the youth's mind off his emotional problems.
"I'm glad I ran into you in this town, Adam," Richie said.
Wish I could say the same, Methos thought.
However, he kept that opinion to himself and managed to work a slight smile onto his face, "So am I."
Methos saw tears well up in Richie's eyes, and the boy buried his face into Methos' chest and cried silently. He'd gotten over his nightmare, but the kindness Adam displayed was overwhelming to him, and he was too embarrassed to say anything about it.
Methos, taking pity on the boy, held him closer and rubbed his back to sooth him. He wasn't sure how he'd be since his last encounter with Duncan. He knew Richie probably wouldn't be quite back to his old self, but this was worse than he imagined.
Richie said something with his mouth against Methos' chest, muffling the translation.
"What?" Methos asked.
Richie pulled his head out from Methos' chest and said, "I feel awful."
Methos knew what he meant by that, he'd been in that position a few times too many, he laid Richie's body down on the bed and got up.
"Where're you going?" Richie asked.
"To fix you a drink, this hotel includes a bar in each room, right?" he asked.
Richie didn't say anything in response, he just groaned and turned on his side.
Methos filled in a glass a mixture of sweet and sour scotch, a margarita, and some champagne. He took the glass back over to the bed and handed it to Richie, "Drink this, it'll help you relax."
Richie down the glass in one gulp, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and said, "Adam, this isn't helping me relax, it's making me want to belch."
"Just lie down, it needs a few minutes to take effect," Methos told him.
Methos stayed over at the bar watching Richie, until he was sure he was asleep. Methos went over to the bed, picked Richie's body up and carried him over to his room and laid him down on one of the beds. He headed back into Richie's room to get his things, while he was getting everything together, he came across a pill bottle on the floor. He popped the cap and counted the pills, he looked up the number of the doctor who prescribed them and decided to give him a call.
"Hello?"
"Dr. Van Leeway?"
"Yes, who is this?"
"Did you prescribe a bottle of pills to Richard Ryan today?"
"Yes, why?"
"Oh...I'm his uncle, I came into town to see him, and I just now found the bottle, tell me, how many pills are supposed to be in here?"
"Twenty-four."
"There's twelve in here now," Methos said.
"You better get him to a hospital, those pills are lethal if he takes more than two at a time."
"No, no, no, that won't be necessary I don't think...you see I found the bottle with the lid off right beside an air vent, they probably rolled down into the basement...I'm going to go talk to him, thank you doctor."
Methos hung up the phone and mentally kicked himself for that drink. Any bloody fool knew that sleeping pills, and alcoholic beverages, both to that extent, were not to mix.
Methos remembered what Richie had said earlier: I'm glad I ran into you in this town, Adam. Methos was glad to see Richie too, but he dreaded it being in this town. Surely Richie must've heard something about Levingston, or had he? Richie still lacked a lot of geographical knowledge for this day and age, especially in small places like this, so he probably wouldn't know. But if he'd known the bloody truth about this town, he wouldn't have come, even by accident.
Methos' heart jumped into his throat when he heard someone calling Richie's name. It was a female voice, coming from the other side of the hall. Right outside Richie's room!
Methos opened his door and headed over to the blonde woman, who was gently tapping on his door.
"Looking for someone?" Methos asked.
The woman turned around and faced him, "Yes, I do believe Mister Ryan just called about a complaint with the room."
"That can't be," Methos said, "he's staying in my room."
"Oh Good Lord," she said, "We must have a crank caller in this hotel somewhere."
"Well I know it can't be my nephew, I've been with him for about an hour now, and I can assure you he never picked up any phone...I'm in town visiting him, and I have not seen him since his high school graduation, so we just have so much to catch up on, and I figured since it was getting late, since I have two beds in my room, that he'd stay the night in there," Adam said, "you know, superstitious relatives and all that."
"Ah, I see, well, I'm going to have to see just who it was who rang the front desk, good evening Mister Pierson," Carolyn said.
Carolyn headed back downstairs and Methos headed back into his room, locked and bolted the door, he looked back at Richie who was sleeping, and said, "Congratulations, kid, I just saved your life for the first time in Levingston. God knows it won't be the last time either."