The Pale Horseman and the Demon
Methos looked at his reflection in the mirror as he straightened the collar of his coat. His eyes closed as if a migraine had set in right between them. He looked sick, he felt sick.
"I still don't see why I have to go with you to meet this friend of Connor's," he said.
"Because Connor doesn't come into town often and when he does, I want to see him and you said you were up for whatever I had planned tonight," Duncan replied.
"Bah, it'll be just my luck his friend will be another you, that's all I need," Methos said.
"I thought you enjoyed my company," Duncan told him.
"I also enjoy the sunlight but at my age I take everything in moderation so as I don't have hell to pay with overexposure."
"Then why are you always at my place?" Duncan asked.
Methos smiled coyly as he responded, "Because in the last two years that I've been coming over here you've never been able to kick me out."
"Yeah well that might just change," Duncan warned him, "I want to make a good impression with Connor's friend tonight."
"Fine, nobody said I had to make a good impression," Methos replied.
"Oh yes you are," Duncan grabbed Methos' ear and jerked it, "I'm not going to have you ruining this for anybody."
Methos had been staying with Duncan for a while and they were both wearing out each other's last nerves.
"If I wanted to take this kind of abuse from a nagging goat, I would have stayed with my 66th wife," Methos told him.
"Why didn't you?" Duncan asked.
"She didn't like me," Methos answered.
"Then why did you marry her?" Duncan asked.
"Who knows? End of the year, a war going on, bombs being dropped out of planes by the hundreds, bathtub champagne flowing like Niagara Falls and a roomful of witnesses including a priest with his collar tied around his arm, all made for one very peculiar ceremony…imagine my surprise when I woke up the next day and remembered it all," Methos said.
"Shut up and get ready," Duncan told him, "We're meeting Connor at the bar at 7 o' clock."
"I don't want to go," Methos replied, "I don't feel well."
"You're just making up excuses, I'd think you'd jump on a chance to go to the bar and put away half a dozen drinks," Duncan said.
"That should tell you how lousy I feel," Methos told him.
"Come on," Duncan jerked him towards the door, "We're going to be late and you are not going to embarrass us tonight."
"If you'd let me stay home like I wanted, that'd be a safe bet," Methos replied.
While Connor MacLeod, who was passing through Seacouver on a vacation, waited for his cousin to show up, he himself was getting an earful from his female companion. Her name of this decade anyway, was Crystal Monet, she looked more or less like one of a thousand similar women. She was tall, thin, she had dark hair which she kept butchered short and her skin was remotely pale. Overall she wasn't a bad looker, but there were times when she could be meaner than a Doberman. How exactly these two could possibly call themselves friends was a mystery.
"I still don't see why you had to drag me out to this God forsaken part of town to meet your idiotic cousin," she said.
"What makes you think he's idiotic?" Connor asked.
"He's related to you, he'd have to be," she replied.
"Crystal, you promised me you were going to be nice tonight," Connor said.
"I also promised you I'd quit sleeping with a gun but I haven't done that, have I?" she asked.
"How should I know?" Connor replied, "Lord knows just what all you do take to bed with you."
She ignored his comment and asked, "Now who's this boob that's coming with your cousin?"
"His name is Adam Pierson and he's a…okay so I didn't get all the details but from what Duncan told me, he's a dignified, educated man."
"All spells boob in my book," she replied, "When are they going to get here and when can we get the hell out? I'm getting hungry."
Connor and Crystal had known each other for about three hundred years, and in all that time, they never got along to say the least. They had met one day in the most unusual manner. Connor had been riding for days and started to smell like his horse, so he stopped somewhere to bathe in the river only to find that the water already had an occupant.
Back then her name was Christa and she had jumped in the river and swam down to the bottom to hide out from a man hunting her. Connor had met the man, staring down the wrong end of the man's gun. The man had said that she had stolen his money and his family coat of arms. Connor said he'd never seen the woman and the man went on his way. That had been how they met, just how they stayed in contact with each other from that point on was a mystery even to them.
Connor never found out if she really had robbed the man who hunted her, or if she had just embarrassed him and he made her out to be a wretch worthy of death to cover his humility. He never asked and decided it didn't matter much. From that point on, Christa always had a rotten attitude towards Connor but the way she was acting on this night was the worst he'd seen yet.
"I sincerely hope you don't embarrass my cousin and his friend and make a shamble of the whole evening," Connor said.
"If you wanted me to behave you should've let me get drunk before we came here," she replied, "You know how much better I talk when I've got a few martinis sitting in my stomach."
"Yeah I remember that, New Year's Eve and we wound up ringing in the New Year with three bar stools busted over our heads and I was thrown out the window," Connor reminded her.
"Well I told you before," Crystal told him, "I told you before that ever started, you don't mess with an Italian. Now Irish are notorious for their drinking, but there's nothing meaner or scarier in the world than a drunk Italian."
"Yeah but you were the one who said his wife's breasts looked fake," Connor added.
"Well they did, she was over 35 and they were like tennis balls right out of the can," Crystal said.
"Oh the things you say," Connor told her.
To be perfectly honest, even a man of over four hundred years could only listen to so much of what Crystal had to say before turning red as a tomato.
They both felt the quickening of another Immortal.
"That should be Duncan," Connor said.
"If it isn't, I'm going to…"
Crystal didn't get a chance to finish her thought because she turned and saw the two men who walked through the front door of the bar. One was a man she had never seen before, about six feet tall with dark hair and who looked too smug for his own good, and the other man…
"Methos!"
At that one word, Crystal pushed her chair back and ran off.
"What?"
Connor wasn't sure of what he'd just heard but he didn't like the way this was looking.
Methos heard his name called and looked up and saw, just before she jumped on him, someone he hadn't seen for a while, and he was shocked.
"Crystal? I don't believe it," he said, "What're you doing here?"
"Well I was with Connor waiting for his cousin to show up," she explained, "And I…hey wait a minute!"
"Methos, eh?" Connor asked Duncan as he walked up to his cousin.
"It's a long story," Duncan insisted.
"Oh I'm sure it is," Connor replied.
Crystal and Methos however were caught up in their own conversation, too much in fact to notice what the two MacLeods were discussing.
"You mean to tell me you're the educated boob I'm supposed to meet?" Crystal asked Methos.
Methos looked over to Duncan.
"You called me that?" he asked.
"Oh no," Crystal said, "I called you that, but that was before I knew it was you, I figured if it was a friend of MacLeod's, it couldn't be anybody worth knowing too much…hey, just what are you doing hanging around with his moronic cousin anyway?"
Connor tapped Duncan on the shoulder and asked him, "What just happened here?"
"I don't know," Duncan replied, "But I sure hope somebody lets us in on it."
Methos groaned and put Crystal down and said, "I think I'm going to be sick. I haven't been feeling too well lately."
"You're not coming down with anything are you?" Crystal asked.
"He can't come down with anything," Duncan said.
"How would you know?" Crystal turned back to him.
"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod," Methos said in coy manner, "I'd like you to meet…a very old friend of mine."
"My name's Crystal Monet and I have no clan," she replied to Duncan.
"Monet?" Duncan repeated.
Crystal shrugged her shoulders and said, "It doesn't matter, in 10 years it'll be something else."
Before anybody else could say anything else, Crystal jerked Methos off to one of the tables.
"Well that was interesting for about a minute," Duncan said.
"I'm sorry," Connor said, "I tried to get her to behave but she just insisted on ruining everything tonight."
"That's funny because I had the same problem with Methos, he didn't even want to come," Duncan replied.
"So why did you bring him?" Connor asked as they sat down at another table.
"Well he got evicted and he's been staying with me for a while, and I didn't like the idea of leaving him by himself tonight, he really hasn't been too well lately, he's tired a lot and always complains about pains in his stomach."
"Uh oh," Connor said, "Sounds like he's pregnant."
Duncan laughed and then added, "He blames it on my cooking but I think he's finally burnt a hole in his stomach from all the booze he drinks."
"He drinks that much, does he?" Connor asked.
"Like a fish in water," Duncan explained.
"Well I suppose after 5,000 years, a man builds up a lot of things he drinks to escape from," Connor said, "How come you didn't tell me about that?"
"He doesn't like anymore people than necessary knowing who he really is," Duncan explained.
"And I couldn't be trusted with that?" Connor asked.
"Allright, I was wrong for it and I'm sorry," Duncan replied, "Happy now?"
"No but after a couple of drinks I will be," Connor said.
A few tables down from Duncan and Connor, Methos and Crystal were catching up with each other.
"You're looking a lot better than the last time we saw each other," Methos told her, "Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah, some," Crystal replied, "What about yourself?"
"I'm sick," Methos said, "I've been sick for about three weeks."
"What do you think it is?" she asked.
"Honestly? I don't know…"
An idea seemed to come to Crystal.
"Hey, you think after all these years, maybe alcohol poisoning's setting in?" she asked.
Methos laughed and replied, "If it hadn't in the 5,000 years before now, it sure as hell wouldn't be coming up now."
"Mmm…you say you're living with that guy, MacLeod?"
"Yes, why?"
"Maybe he's poisoning you," she said.
"I seriously doubt that," Methos told her.
"Why?"
"Well for one thing if he wanted to, he'd have absolutely no idea what to use or how much…the way I've been getting sick lately is too tame for it to be happening at his hands," Methos explained.
"Well then what else could it be?" she asked.
"I wish I knew," Methos told her.
There was a moment of silence between them before Crystal said to him, "Why don't we get out of here? It looks like the two cousins have a lot of catching up to do."
"As do we," Methos replied, "How about we go back to my place?"
"I thought you were staying with MacLeod," Crystal said.
"For part of it, yes, but I have a place over on the other side of town…trust me, all that I own couldn't possibly fit into half of Duncan's place," Methos explained.
"Fine," Crystal said, "Let's get out of here."
It was half past midnight and the two fell on Methos' bed, laughing and too drunk to pay much attention to what was going on around them, except each other.
"It's been great seeing you again," Methos said, "It's been a long while."
"Not too long, but long enough for me," Crystal told him.
"I meant what I said earlier though, you do look a lot better now," Methos replied.
Crystal brushed off what he said as she recalled the last time we met. "That was horrible," she said.
"I know," Methos agreed.
"It's been a horrible time," she said.
Methos nodded in agreement.
"I guess we should be thankful that we're still together," she said, "If nothing else."
Methos nodded again as he grabbed hold of Crystal and held her close to him. They had both had enough to drink tonight to probably kill a horse, and it seemed to be taking effect now. Crystal lay still in his arms and started to fall asleep. It had been too long since they were last together in anything that could even resemble peace. It had been even longer since they had been able to be together as they were now without having to worry about it ending abruptly. He looked up at the ceiling and recalled a night thousands of years ago that changed three lives forever.
"Don't touch me!" Kronos growled as he kicked at his brother who pulled him out of the mud, "I don't need any help!"
He slipped and started to fall again, only Methos caught him, though he could hardly see his brother. The rain was pouring down on them like hail stones, and the storm had scared their horses off, Kronos had been riding his when the horse jumped at the lightning and that's how he went flying into the mud.
"Come on, Kronos, we can't stay out here all night," Methos told him, "We'll have to see if we can find a place to stay the night."
Methos dragged Kronos, kicking and arguing the entire way, to a nearby inn, and they went in to see if they could stay in a room for the night.
The innkeeper saw them and asked if he could help.
"We'd like a room for the night," Methos said.
"He wants a room for the night," Kronos replied, "I'm getting out of here."
Kronos turned to leave but Methos grabbed him and pulled him back.
"As soon as it stops raining we'll go," Methos said, "And we'll pay before we leave."
The man took them to a room. As they approached the room, both Methos and Kronos felt the quickening of another Immortal nearby.
"Is anybody else in this room?" Methos asked.
The innkeeper laughed and replied, "You could say that."
Methos and Kronos looked at each other though it was too dark to tell. They were shown to the room and they saw nobody, but it was too dark to see much of anything. The innkeeper showed them in and left.
"Charming old goat, isn't he?" Kronos asked.
"Oh shut up," Methos said.
They felt the quickening even stronger now, though that wasn't saying much because it was a weak one. There was another flash of lightning and they saw somebody kneeling by the bed. Kronos took a move towards the person, and just what happened next, he didn't know but he wound up on his back. Before he could move, the person grabbed the dagger out of his belt and held it at his throat.
"Now you die," a low voice said.
Methos knew that voice and immediately said, "Christa?"
"Methos?"
Lightning flashed again and Kronos could now see the figure hovering over him was a woman. Not a good looking one by any means, her hair was long and ratty and it covered most of her body and her face. Her face looked little better than a skull with the skin drawn tightly over it. She had no clothes and was absolutely filthy. She looked to Methos and her grip on the dagger disappeared, it dropped right next to Kronos.
Methos walked over to the two of them and he tried to raise the woman to her feet but he lost his balance and they both fell on the bed.
"Dear Lord," Methos said as he got a good look at her, "What happened to you?"
Kronos managed to get back up and he was completely dumbstruck. "You two know each other?"
The woman turned back to look at him and she answered, "We go back a ways."
"Yes," Methos explained, "We lived in the same village before…well before we became Immortal…we used to be rather close then, didn't we?"
Christa hooked one of her boney arms around his back. "Like family," she answered.
"Of course, a while after that," Methos continued, "We started going our separate ways." Now his attention was focused on Christa. "What happened to you?"
"The rains stopped coming and the harvests failed, I started roaming the land, but I wound up in the desert where there's even less to eat or drink than that village where everything dried out…I don't know how long I've traveled, I don't know just where I am," she explained, "All I do know is I've been kept here for a while now, and that bastard has no intentions of letting me go anytime soon."
"Why didn't you leave?"
"I tried, but I was too weak to fight, the next thing I knew, six men had me tied up, I don't know what happened to my sword or anything else I had, I can't even tell you where my clothes went," Christa told him.
"So why does the innkeeper keep you here?" Kronos asked.
Christa turned to him and said, "Not many women pass through here, you can guess why."
As the lightning flashed again, Methos' saw a glare form in his brother's eyes as Kronos took in what she said.
"Well don't worry," Methos told her, "When we leave, you'll come with us."
Christa looked at Methos and then turned back to Kronos and asked, "And who is this?"
Kronos took a step forward and offered her his hand. "I'm Kronos."
Instead of taking his hand, Christa grabbed Kronos' wrist and said, "You a friend of Methos?"
"Yes."
"Better be a good one, otherwise I'll kill you," she warned him.
Methos woke up and realized it was morning. Oh that had been a long time ago when the three of them had all met. Now, it was the year 1997, and Kronos was…gone. Not a day went by that Methos couldn't find that hard to believe. His brother, Methos had thought would never die.
He sat up in bed and realized there was somebody in the other side. He looked and saw Crystal still asleep. There were a couple of empty bottles laying by the bed, and even though he hadn't gotten to the point of completely drunk for thousands of years, Methos felt like he was starting to go into a hangover. His head was starting to throb.
Forcing himself up and out of bed, he picked up the phone and dialed MacLeod's number and waited as it rang.
"This is MacLeod speaking."
"Hi, Mac," he tiredly replied.
"Methos, are you okay?"
"Oh yeah, I'm fine…I'm sorry about ditching you two last night, but Crystal and I haven't seen each other in a while."
"Exactly how long have you two known each other?"
"Oh…longer than the world's been known to be round, but not as long as time," Methos replied.
"You sound tired, are you feeling allright?"
Methos nodded and answered, "I'm allright, but I've got to go now…oh, and Duncan…give my regards to your cousin."
He hung up and a moment later, Crystal started to come around. It seemed her head was still swimming from all they had to drink the night before because she couldn't sit up right. She would try to sit up straight and her head swayed from one side to the next.
"How're you feeling?" Methos asked.
"Fine," she replied, "And you?"
"I'm good."
"Methos."
"Yes?"
There seemed to be a moment of clarity in her now. She sat up in bed and looked him dead in the eyes and said, "That man from last night, that Duncan MacLeod…he's the one who killed Kronos, isn't he?"
Methos' eyes went wide when she said that.
"How did you know?" he asked.
She shook her head, "I don't know, I just do…it was like I could tell, almost immediately when I saw him, but I wasn't sure."
Crystal tried to get up but instead fell back against the mattress and went back to sleep. Methos was beside himself, she knew what had happened. The question was what was he going to do now?