A Second Chance
2000 B.C.
It was night in the desert, everybody was asleep, or rather almost everybody was. Kronos was trying to sleep but something was keeping him up. At first he thought it sounded like a wounded animal, but then he realized that the noises were being made by a human. Then with horror he realized that it was Methos. Kronos got up and went over to Methos' tent to see what had happened. Methos was in bed laying on his left side, with the blankets and furs drawn high up covering him.
"What's going on?" Kronos asked, "What's happened?"
Methos looked at him and quietly responded, "Nothing's happened."
Kronos knelt down beside Methos and realized that he was crying. "Methos, what's wrong?"
Methos explained that he'd fallen down earlier and he'd had a horrible pain in his left hip since. It didn't make sense to Kronos, so he decided to have a look and see if he could figure out what happened. He pulled down the blankets and immediately noticed that the ground beneath Methos was bloody. Kronos rolled Methos over onto his right side and pulled up his tunic and saw something that even he couldn't believe. There was a large hunk of metal stuck in Methos' hip, it was something he hadn't seen before and didn't know what it was, but he knew it had to come out.
Looking at Methos, Kronos could tell that his brother was scared, this wasn't something that they'd ever had to deal with before. What more, whatever it was in his hip, it wasn't anything either man could identify, but it was too far in to be simply removed, Kronos was going to have to cut it out, and they both knew it, and that terrified Methos even more.
"Kronos?"
"I know, Methos, I know."
Kronos picked up Methos' dagger and set the tip of the blade against the object in his hip. Before he began, he looked and saw Methos' eyes were wide with fear; Kronos turned Methos' head around to look away.
"Don't worry," he tried to assure his brother, "It'll all be over soon."
Methos dug his nails into the ground and grit his teeth and tried to prepare himself for what came next. The initial pain of the blade tearing into his flesh was so horrible he thought he'd pass out. Then as it moved deeper and deeper into him he started screaming and thought before long the pain would kill him. With every further movement Kronos made with the dagger, Methos screamed louder and louder until it sounded like his throat had been cut, and that was the moment in which Kronos completed the removal. Methos completely collapsed on the ground, crying even more so now like a wounded animal than before.
Kronos smiled and gently kissed Methos' slowly healing hip. "I told you it would be over soon."
Methos said nothing and instead kept his face buried in the ground beneath him and continued crying. Kronos figured it was because he'd been in pain for a while, and it would take longer for this wound to heal than it had others. He picked up the thing that had caused his brother so much trouble and tried to figure out what it was. It was the size of the palm of his hand and it looked like a rock, but he knew it wasn't, this was a sharp metal of some sort, and if he had to guess, he'd figure it was made as it was, exactly for this purpose. It was cast with several small sharp points that made it easy for it to stick in human flesh, it hadn't been enough to kill Methos, but it had kept him in pain for a good amount of time, and no doubt had they needed to fight, he wouldn't have been able to, at least not as well as he normally did.
"Methos," Kronos grabbed Methos and turned him back on his side, "Where did this come from?"
Methos looked at it for a moment and said, "I don't know." However, Kronos had an idea that Methos knew more than he was letting on.
Kronos slipped one arm under Methos' back and the other under his thighs and carefully lifted his brother up and settled him on his lap.
"Take it easy, Methos, it's over…" he told him.
However Methos seemed inconsolable, and this worried Kronos because he knew Methos wouldn't act like this over a wound. Methos might not have been too old, but he was old enough that he ordinarily acted better than this, which told Kronos that something was seriously wrong with him.
"Methos, what is it? What's the matter?"
Methos tried to resist answering but Kronos persisted, and finally Methos said he couldn't tell Kronos what had happened. This didn't set well with Kronos because he didn't appreciate his brother keeping secrets from him.
"What's the matter with you? Tell me what's happened."
"I can't," Methos replied, "You'll hate me when I tell you."
Kronos would have laughed if he didn't know this was going to be terrible. "Methos, there's nothing you can tell me that I would hate you for it."
"You say that now," Methos said, "But you won't think the same after I tell you."
"Tell me what?" Kronos wanted to know.
Methos sat up and grabbed Kronos around the neck and leaned into his ear to quietly explain what had happened. What he said upset Kronos so much, when Methos finished explaining, the only thing Kronos could ask was, "Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Because I was ashamed," Methos tearfully confessed, "I didn't want you to think you had a damn infant for a brother, who was stupid enough to get taken prisoner and tortured."
"Oh Methos…"
Methos lowered his face in his brother's shoulder, "I'm sorry."
"Methos, you don't have anything to be sorry for because you didn't do anything wrong. Now try and calm down, I'm not going to let anybody near you again."
Kronos picked up the piece of metal and looked it over again. It was most unusual, it had thirteen long and narrow points that stuck out in a weird circle. Those were what had kept it lodged in Methos' hip.
"What is this?" Kronos asked.
"That's how they marked me," he replied, "They said with it, they would be able to find me again. They knew I couldn't die from it but they put it in so I couldn't take it out."
"What do you mean they knew you couldn't die from it?" Kronos asked.
"They knew I was Immortal," Methos explained, "They said with that they'd be able to watch me."
"Where did this happen?" Kronos asked.
"In the…next village," Methos replied.
"I see…" Kronos set Methos down on the bed, "Stay here for a moment."
"Where're you going?"
"To get the others…I don't know who or what these people think they are, but they're not going to live long enough to get away with this."
1993
Had that been the beginning of the Watchers, and the Hunters? Thinking back now, Methos wasn't sure, but he knew it didn't matter anymore. They had come for him once before and now, 4,000 years later they had come again. Only this time when they had come for him, he was alone. They outnumbered and easily overpowered him; he had no choice but to go with them. Now he wished that he was dead, they certainly made it a sweet temptation.
Who was the leader this time? A man named Horton wasn't it? He couldn't remember anymore, his memory from the last few days was a blur. The parts he could remember, being shot, stabbed, burnt, electrocuted, torn open with red hot pokers, he wished he could forget it all. He wished that he could stay dead for more than a few minutes, or a couple of hours, maybe then it wouldn't be as bad.
"You died once today, did you enjoy that?" the apparent ringleader of this sadistic bunch asked.
His own words, oh the irony. Actually yes he had enjoyed death, but what it took to reach it, he had not and didn't want to go through it again, so he shook his head, and immediately regretted it. How many days had he been without food or water and to top it all, he was tied to the wall with restraints on his hands. The sort of restraints ordinarily used on mental patients in hospitals, but that hadn't been enough. No, these bastards had custom made a set of shackles, with spikes in them, and the spikes punctured into his wrists when they were put on…and there were no keys, they would have to be melted in order to be taken off.
In between the blood he'd lost and the blood he was still losing, to say nothing of the overwhelming nauseating feeling that filled his stomach, it was safe to say he felt like hell, and things showed no sign of improving anytime soon. Trying to think back, he wasn't even sure how this whole mess had started. All he remembered was being jumped, being called for the umpteenth time in his life an abomination, and being demanded for some answers, answers to something he had absolutely no idea what the hell they were talking about.
"Won't answer, eh?" one of them asked.
Methos forced his eyes open and saw what the man reached for, a large, recently sharpened knife.
"We have other ways of making you talk," the man said.
A realization of what was about to happen came upon Methos and he was terrified. They'd already filled him with holes and torn him open and just about everything else imaginable, but when they said they had other ways, Methos had a very good idea that one of them involved cutting him up one piece at a time. If he had any idea at all what it was they wanted to know, he might've talked, but he didn't, and now…now one of those sadistic bastards was looking him over as if to decide which part to cut off first.
Exhaustion was winning him over and his head dropped for a second as his eyes closed, but he regained whatever composure he had left, when he felt somebody grab his ear, and he knew this was where they would start.
So this was how his life ended, at the mercy of three of the more recent psychotic Watchers in the business. Except things like this had no mercy in them, and still they had the balls to call him an abomination. Through the corners of his eyes he saw the blade come within a fraction of an inch to his ear. He decided he didn't want to see this and closed his eyes, since knowing his luck they'd probably decide to cut off his eyelids next.
Then, out of nowhere, just before he could feel the blade cut into his flesh, he felt the presence of another Immortal. He didn't know what the hell was going on and he couldn't care less anymore, he was too tired. His eyes closed and he hoped death was quick and as painless as could be possible for somebody like himself.
The window was smashed as the intruder jumped in, and Methos faintly heard the sound of machine gun fire but he felt nothing. For a moment he thought that he'd already lost too much blood to consciously feel anything anymore, but then when the noise died down he felt somebody kiss him.
"Greetings, Brother."
Methos' eyes popped open and he saw standing before him, somebody he had hoped he would never see again.
"Kronos!"
Looking around the room, Methos couldn't believe his eyes, but then in a sense he suppose he could, this was Kronos after all. The three Watchers lay dead on the floor riddled full of bullet holes, the dying looks on their faces all masks of shock and horror. And standing directly in front of him was his brother, who he had hoped never to meet with again, and the bastard was smiling at him.
"I missed you too."
That was the point in which Methos felt his entire body go limp, whatever strength he'd had left was gone. Kronos reached up and undid the restraints, Methos' body dropped but his wrists were still caught in the piercing shackles. When Kronos saw this, he grabbed hold of Methos and laid him out on a table to get a better look at the things and to figure out how to get them off of him.
Methos tried to talk, and ask just how Kronos had found him, but when he tried to speak, Kronos told him to be quiet. It was just as well, Methos decided, he was too weak and too tired to say much anyway. As he looked up to the ceiling he felt himself spinning, and it almost felt as if he was drifting out of his body. He closed his eyes and waited for either sleep or death to take him, and he wondered what was to happen to him now.
Kronos meanwhile had figured out how the shackles would have to come off, and he wasn't pleased with the idea. He decided to do this where a mess would be the lesser problem, so he carried Methos into the bathroom and laid him out in the tub. Then, searching the house, he found a torch and went to work, the smell of the metal melting against the heat, mixed with the odor of burning flesh as the flame burnt past the inch of cast iron, was enough to nauseate even him.
Finally the shackles melted enough that he could remove them, and when the spikes came out of Methos' wrists, the blood started flowing again. Kronos grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Methos' arms and picked his brother up. Methos was still alive but barely, too much blood lost, too many days without food, too much continuous strain on his body from constant healing.
"Well, Brother," Kronos said, "It may have taken me two thousand years but I finally caught up with you again."
When Kronos removed the bloody towel from Methos' wrists he saw the bleeding had stopped but the wounds hadn't entirely healed, either they were taking more time to close up, or his brother was going to have all-around scars for the rest of his life. Methos still hadn't woken up, and he seemed to have no acknowledgment of Kronos getting him out of that place, or of Kronos removing his clothes or putting him in the bathtub or filling it with hot water. Kronos was sure the scalding heat would be enough to bring his brother around but it was almost as if Methos couldn't even feel it. Maybe he should've turned on the cold tap but he didn't think it would've made a difference.
He lightly slapped Methos' face and still got not response.
"Come on, Methos, wake up."
He struck Methos a bit harder the next time, a low groan emerged from his brother but little more. Then another idea came to his mind, he pulled out one of the drawers under the sink and took out a small bottle of whiskey. He removed the lid, put the bottle to his brother's lips and forced a good drink of the liquor down his throat. Methos started coughing and seemed to be coming around. Methos opened his eyes and looked up and saw Kronos, and then he panicked.
"Kronos!"
He backed up and banged his shoulder against the hard marble of the tub.
Kronos laughed, "Did you think I was just a nightmare?"
Methos didn't answer, it seemed he was too scared to.
"Relax," Kronos said as he knelt down by the tub, "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Why not?"
Apparently Kronos wasn't the only one who remembered their departure all those centuries ago. He reached over to Methos, but his brother tried to back away.
"Don't get yourself excited," Kronos said as he stroked through Methos' hair, "You're not the only one who can change in two thousand years you know. How are you feeling?"
"I…don't know," Methos replied.
Kronos tried to slip him another drink of the whiskey but Methos pushed him back and took the bottle for himself.
"It's been a long time," Kronos said, "Perhaps too long."
Half of the whiskey went back in the bottle when Methos heard that. He wasn't sure he liked where this was going.
"For a long time I thought you were dead," Kronos told him, "I didn't bother looking for you. But then I heard rumors, Methos the world's oldest man…"
Well up to this point Methos decided his life had been going well. He hung his head low and waited for whatever was coming next, he just hoped that whatever Kronos had planned, he got it over with quickly and as painlessly as could be done.
"Is that what happened?"
Methos looked up at Kronos. Had he missed something?
"What?"
"I said is that what happened?" Kronos asked, "They found out who you really were?"
"I don't know," Methos replied, and then the tears came, "I don't know…I don't know what it was they wanted with me. I don't know how they found out I was Immortal. I don't know anything."
Kronos took the bottle back from Methos and pushed his brother lower down into the hot water.
"It's allright, Methos, you're safe now, they're not going to hurt you again," he told his brother.
"I wish I could believe that," Methos replied.
Kronos leaned over and kissed Methos on the side of his head. "My poor brother," he said, "They had no right treating you like that…they never did."
Methos closed his eyes and felt Kronos grab his wrist. He knew Kronos was looking at the tattoo; oh the irony of this was never going to die.
"How long?" Kronos asked.
"About 15 years."
"Little good it'll do you now," Kronos told him.
"I know." Tears burnt Methos' eyes as he answered, "I know."
Kronos grabbed a towel off the rack and held it over Methos' face for a minute while he calmed down.
"Now," he said when he lowered the towel, "Let's get you cleaned up and then I'm putting you to bed."
Methos laughed, though why, he wasn't sure, and that seemed to please Kronos.
"I have missed you," Kronos explained.
"I missed you too," Methos replied.
"I know."
Kronos washed and scrubbed the blood and grime off his brother to the point that every inch of his body was bright pink and sore. When that was done, Kronos pulled the plug and wrapped Methos in a large towel and carried him into the bedroom and laid him out on the bed.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Tired…sick…scared."
"But you don't need to be, I'm here with you, and I'm not going to let anybody get their hands on you again," Kronos said, "I let you get away once, I'm not making that mistake again."
Methos looked up at him with eyes wide with terror.
"Cut that out, I'm not going to hurt you," he said, "I know, you think I still want your head for what you did to me two thousand years ago…well I used to, but not anymore. Now I'm just glad to see that you're still in one piece."
"More or less," Methos replied.
Kronos could tell that Methos was near dead with exhaustion and there was no way he could possibly last much longer than he already had.
"It's late," he said, "You better get some sleep."
He drew the covers up to Methos' chest and ran his hand through his brother's short hair and laughed, recalling how long and unruly it was when they last saw each other. Methos turned his head against the pillows and fell asleep. Within minutes, he was dead to the world and there would be no waking him until morning. Kronos got on the other side of the bed and lay beside his brother. Reaching out he grabbed Methos' hand in his own and squeezed it; when he did he realized how much strength Methos had lost in the past few days.
"Welcome back, Brother," he said, though he knew Methos couldn't hear him.
Methos slept the whole night but he didn't sleep peacefully; all night long he had nightmares about the Watchers and the Hunters, and Kronos. When he woke up the next morning he felt like his head was swimming and he couldn't get up. He lay where he was for a few minutes, then he heard the door open, looking up he saw it was Kronos.
"How're you feeling?"
"I don't think I can get up," Methos said.
"Just as well, I'm placing you on bed rest for the next couple of days," Kronos replied as he walked over to the bed and got in alongside his brother, "Did you sleep well?"
"I slept." It was then that Methos realize it had been the first time in days that he had slept.
It was then that Methos realized something. There was no possibility that it was a coincidence that Kronos found out about the Watchers holding him. That meant that Kronos had to have known for quite some time that he was alive.
"How long had you been watching me?" Methos asked.
"About three months."
Then he had to have known when they came for him. Methos didn't question it. Even if Kronos could change, and maybe he had, Methos figured there would still be a part of him that wanted to see his brother suffer for what had happened 2000 years ago. Even if he wasn't doing it himself, Kronos probably enjoyed watching Methos get what he thought he deserved.
"And how long did they…"
It wasn't much to his surprise, but Methos couldn't even finish the question.
"Only three days," Kronos replied.
Three days. Three days with those bastards. Three days hanging on the wall while being ridiculed with bullets, torn open with blades, burnt to the point of…he didn't want to think about it anymore. He turned on his side and buried his head against the pillows.
"I found this when we were leaving," he heard Kronos add.
He turned to face his brother and saw Kronos holding his Ivanhoe. He gave it to Methos, who held it for a minute before tossing it over to the wall and turning back on his side.
"I don't want it," he said.
He closed his eyes and waited for his stomach to stop flipping around. He felt Kronos' hand on his back and it made him want to jump out of his skin.
"Do you want something to eat?"
Methos shook his head.
"I don't think I can keep anything down," he replied.
"Well I'll get you something to drink," Kronos told him.
"Not more whiskey," Methos said.
Kronos laughed, "No, not whiskey."
Methos felt Kronos' weight shift off the other side of the bed and heard him leave the room. Well, Methos thought, his life hadn't turned out quite like he planned, but this was an even bigger turn than he could have imagined. Back with Kronos again, what was going to come of him now?
It was then that Methos realized something else. He had to find out if his cover was blown to all the Watchers, or just those dead. Sitting up in the bed he saw a phone on the nightstand, and he knew he had to contact Joe Dawson and find out what was going on. He picked up the receiver and dialed Joe's number and waited.
"Dawson."
"Joe?"
"Adam! Where the hell are you?"
"Joe, what's going on?" Methos asked.
"What do you mean? Where have you been all week?"
"Joe, something's happened…what's going on? Does everybody know?"
"Know what?"
"Who I am…Joe, I have to know if they do."
"What are you talking about?"
If Joe didn't know then that meant that the word hadn't gotten out yet.
"Joe, something terrible happened…some of the Watchers…they're hunting Immortals."
"Who is?"
"I don't know," Methos replied, "They're dead now, but they…"
Methos stopped. Though Kronos' quickening never really left Methos' mind, it felt even stronger now than before and he knew what that meant. Reluctantly, he turned around and saw Kronos standing before him. Kronos grabbed the receiver, lifted it to his ear long enough to say, "Goodbye" and hung up.
Methos dropped against the mattress and started to almost subconsciously curl into a ball. Kronos grabbed his wrists and pulled him into a sitting up position.
"Come on now," he said, "Have a drink, you'll feel better soon."
Methos looked and saw Kronos pick up a vodka bottle and press the mouth of the bottle against his lips.
"No, Kronos," Methos said as he tried to move away, "Please."
"Drink it!"
Kronos pinned Methos where he lay and forced him to drink from the bottle. Tears stung Methos' eyes as he realized that he really was back with his brother, and soon, this might be his whole world again. Kronos took the bottle away when Methos started choking on the liquid and it was then that he realized something.
"You son of a bitch," Methos said, "That was water."
It was then that Methos started crying and he couldn't stop himself though he could feel himself becoming sick from it all. Kronos got on the bed beside him and picked Methos up and set him on his lap and gently rocked him and tried to calm him down.
"What's wrong? Tell me, Methos," Kronos said.
It was a few minutes before Methos could calm down enough to explain, "I was so scared, Kronos…it was just terrifying, those three days, with them…I don't think I've been that scared for a long time…"
"I know," Kronos replied, "I know how that is."
That sent an icy chill up Methos' back.
"Yes you do," he realized, "I'm sorry…" he buried his face in Kronos' shoulder, "So sorry."
"Shhh, quiet, quiet…" Kronos tightened his hold on his brother, "You're safe now, nobody's going to hurt you."
Methos grabbed hold of Kronos and begged him, "Please, Kronos…don't leave me."
"I'm not going anywhere," Kronos assured him.
"I don't mean that, I mean……the first time that we met, all those thousands of years ago…I came from a life of fear and that was all I knew…the only time that I felt that the world as I knew it wasn't going to fall away from me was when I was with you. Two thousand years I woke up in the middle of the night screaming because I could feel myself falling away…you were right…you were right…I can't survive without you."
"Of all the things I ever said to you," Kronos told the lump he coddled that was his brother, "You chose to remember that? Methos, if you've made it to 5,000 years living like you have, then you don't need me."
Methos clung tighter to Kronos and started crying harder, exactly why he was, he didn't know.
"Quiet, quiet," Kronos said as he tried to soothe his brother, "Everything's going to be allright, just calm down."
Methos felt Kronos push him down on the bed and move away. Methos tried to grab Kronos and begged his brother not to leave him. Kronos pulled away from him and sat at the foot of the bed.
"I told you I'm not going anywhere," Kronos said to him, "And I meant it…you've gotten yourself upset and worked up and now you're not going to be able to rest. I know you're scared, and after what you've been through you have every right to be, but you have to calm down before you make yourself sick."
Methos was ashamed of himself for it but he just couldn't stop crying.
"I'm just so scared, Kronos…I don't know if I'll even be able to go home again," Methos wailed as he beat his head against the pillows in despair.
Kronos crawled back up to the other end of the bed and lay alongside Methos and wrapped his arms around his brother and kissed him. "I know, Methos, I know…"
In that moment, a realization came over Methos. He was currently with the only person in the whole world who could ever, possibly, understand what he was feeling. It was then that he also realized that it didn't matter if he did go home again because he already was home again.
"I…love you," Methos barely managed to get out over his cries.
"I love you too," Kronos replied, "Do you think you can relax now?"
Methos slowly nodded and he felt Kronos back away.
"Good," Kronos replied as he took Methos' hand in his, "You go to sleep, and I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?" Methos asked.
Kronos raised Methos' hand to his mouth and kissed it, "I swear, Brother, I swear."
Methos knew he should have calmed down but he still couldn't stop himself from crying. He had always known that Kronos would come for him, and he always knew when that day came, Kronos would greet him with a blade to his throat. It seemed that he had been wrong about his brother, and the unexpected kindness that Kronos showed him now left Methos beyond appreciation, and past words to explain why he acted the way he did.
"Thank you," he quietly said as he forced himself to calm down, "For everything."
"My brother," Kronos said. He grabbed Methos and pulled his brother on top of him and held him in a tight embrace, "My dearest brother, I think I spent too much time away from you. You're a survivor but you don't always do well on your own. No…maybe you do need me still for some things."
"Don't leave me," Methos said again.
"I won't," Kronos assured him, "I've spent too much time looking for you just to leave you again."