All the characters belong to someone else not me ... and of course there will be no monetary gain for anyone but their rightful owners.
Everybody hated Richie's death and season 6 - but I always wondered what happened right after Richie died ... Read and review please.
Joe Dawson wept in Methos' arms. At their feet Richie Ryan lay dead. It wasn't the first time he'd died, but this time it would be permanent; his head separated from his body by the blade of his teacher, Duncan MacLeod.
Methos released his grasp as the shudders slowed. Joe reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief. Methos stepped away. Dawson dried his eyes and noisily blew his nose. The immortal Methos had hidden in plain sight for many years in the Watcher organization, and although his formal association had ended sometime ago; he knew their protocol. "Joe," he said, "You have to call this in."
Joe nodded, pulled out his cell phone and began to speak urgently to the "removers". It was a terrible task, but they would come quickly and discretely, to tidy up the scene, to remove the body and to arrange a quiet burial.
When Joe closed the phone moments later he wasn't surprised to find himself the only mourner. Methos had disappeared.
In the 40 minutes between his call and the arrival of the removers, Dawson had time to think things through. However, with a friend lying at your feet, never to rise again in this world, rational thought is impossible. So Joe was left to hover on the edge of shock and disappointment. The removers found him leaning against a pillar staring blankly into space. Their team leader took over the scene and Joe slowly turned his back on Richie and went out into the gathering darkness to find his car.
He drove slowly back to the bar. There was a lone guitarist on the stage in the middle of a set and the crowd was sparse. He nodded to Paul, the barman, went into his office and shut the door against all comers. There was a bottle in his desk. It wasn't full, but it was the best whiskey money could buy brought under the arm of MacLeod nearly a year earlier. They usually drank from it together. Tonight however, Joe Dawson used it to celebrate the life of Richie Ryan.
The next morning from his bed, nursing dehydration and temper brought on by grief and alcohol, Joe called in a few favours. Once the close out report on Richie Ryan was submitted, he would be allowed to claim the body and arrange the burial of a man he thought of as son and friend. He still had no clear understanding of what had happened. He had not witnessed Duncan MacLeod strike the blow that took Ritchie's head, but it seemed certain that he had. After the quickening subsided, Dawson was stunned to see MacLeod offer his sword and his head to Methos. His grief and remorse filled the cavernous space. That Methos turned away, spoke to his restraint and perhaps his own long history of trial and error.
Joe spent what was left of the day at the bar. There wasn't anything pressing, which was good, because he hardly had the concentration for polishing the glasses. Every time the door opened he stopped involuntarily. He was hoping MacLeod would come. He was hoping Methos would be with him. He was praying that there would be an explanation that would dissolve his uncertainty and exercise the guilt he felt. If he had no relationship with MacLeod, Richie would never have cared enough to chase Horton on his behalf. Joe shook his head. Horton was long dead. And the demon Arheiman an unbelievable explanation. None of it made any sense. It was beyond Joe, all he could do was wait. Wait for Richie's body to be released, wait for MacLeod.
It was a beautiful morning some days later that Richie Ryan was laid to rest. Joe Dawson stood silently as the Priest intoned the commitment of Richie's body to the earth. "Dust to dust, ashes to ashes." With a sharp snap he closed his book and Joe wiped away one more tear. They shook hands then and the Priest said farewell.
Joe stood a long time beside Richie's grave. He watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground and covered with freshly turned earth. Joe had called MacLeod and visited the barge. He'd been around to Methos' apartment; he'd even tried to reach Amanda. He wanted someone else to know. He wanted someone else to share his remorse for all the days that had led to this one. He had many questions yet and only one certainty; MacLeod and Methos were both gone from Paris. There was no watcher on Methos. It had been his own decision and now he regretted it. If he could find him, maybe he could find MacLeod.