1999 - Paris
Methos was on the run. Once again. But – and that was the cosmic irony – this time an immortal didn't want his head because he was Methos, the oldest immortal. No, it was because Kraden thought that Methos - aka Adam Pierson - was a greenhorn and therefore the perfect next head for his student Reynolds. Not that Methos wouldn't be able to defeat Reynolds; no, that wasn't the problem. But Methos, first of all, didn't like to take heads at all. And secondly, Kraden was known for not playing fair: He used to observe the fights of his students and kill the opponent during the Quickening, if the latter happened to succeed in killing the student. And from time to time, when Kraden thought that his current student became too strong, he killed his student during the Quickening.
Kraden and Reynolds had tried to ambush Methos the day before in front of his apartment. Methos had escaped and since then he had not returned home. What he needed was a plan. And a beer. The latter was the easier thing to find and so Methos dropped in Joe's Le Blues Bar.
Joe was already up to date about the events. After all, he was a watcher and had a short conversation with Kraden's watcher. After the horsemen thing Methos couldn't hide from the watchers the fact that he was immortal. But thanks to the help of Joe, they still didn't know that he was Methos, the oldest immortal. Instead, he was filed as Benjamin Adams, previously unknown immortal with a presumed age of about two hundred years.
Joe put a beer in front of his friend. "So, what are you going to do about Kraden?"
Methos growled and took a big sip of his beer. Where was the Boy Scout if you needed him? But Duncan had disappeared. He was probably busy with excessively meditating somewhere on holy ground.
"Kraden is always accompanied by a student. Immediately after killing one student he looks for a new one. He never fights an immortal first, he's always sending his student ahead," Joe continued.
"Yeah, always a master and a student. Think he watched too much SciFi," Methos muttered grumpily.
Joe looked at his bad tempered guest. He knew that the situation was not without danger for Methos. Nevertheless, it offered Joe the opportunity to mention a topic that he had never before dared to raise. "Tell me something about Nemain," he said.
Methos wasn't really surprised by the question. This teacher-student-thing made it almost inevitable. "Nemain?" he repeated the name to gain time to think about what he wanted to reveal to his friend.
"You've been living for five thousand years. However, your students can be counted on one hand. Therefore, she must have been special. But you never talk about her."
"No, I don't," confirmed Methos.
"And why not?" Joe tried to dig deeper. He was used to the fact that Methos rarely spoke of his past and Joe could imagine that Nemain might be a special delicate subject. But this time, Joe didn't want to give in.
"She's dead," Methos said finally, "For a long time already."
Almost five hundred years. Joe knew that. And he also knew who had killed her. And he knew that her murderer arrived in Paris just two days ago. Joe wasn't sure if he should mention that to Methos, because, first of all, he was a watcher and therefore shouldn't interfere, and secondly, Methos had already enough problems with Kraden. But Joe was too curious about Methos' reaction. And to learn more about the past of the oldest immortal justified a little interference.
"Brianna O'Conor is here in Paris. She took the head of Torcha last night," Joe said, "Torcha's watcher told me that it was a hell of a fight and it was at a knife's edge who would win."
"Torcha? It was high time that someone chops his head off," Methos replied calmly.
Methos stoicism made Joe angry, "Is that everything that you have to say? Good God, Methos, this is Brianna O'Conor. She killed Nemain."
Methos nodded, "I know. I was there. But I'm just not this eye-for-an-eye-tooth-for-a-tooth kind of guy. You should know that by now." He sipped at his beer, "Did Torcha's watcher achieve to follow O'Conor?" Methos asked casually. O'Conor managed to escape the watcher's surveillance long ago, but taking a head run always the risk of being caught by a watcher.
"Nope. She escaped him. We don't have a good picture of her neither. We only know for sure that it was O'Conor because Torcha called her by that name." Joe tried a last question, "What happened back then, five hundred years ago?"
Methos finished his beer and got up. "It's already late. Too late for old stories. And I have to find a way to get rid of Kraden." And suddenly, there actually seemed to be an answer for the teacher–student problem. But another problem had just come up: How could he manage to keep Brianna and Joe away from each other?
Motionless Brianna O'Conor stood in front of the grave and allowed herself to be carried away by the memories. On the plain tombstone only one word was written: Baisemaux. She laid down a red rose. So long ago and nevertheless, the feelings were still there. The love, the joy. And the sadness. Too many graves to visit, too many roses to lay down. She walked along the graves and stopped at another one. The inscription was hard to read, but Brianna knew it by heart: Alina, Beloved Wife and Mother. A familiar buzz tickled Brianna's neck. She didn't care. No need to, holy ground. She continued wandering between the tombstones, remembering and laying down roses.
Finally she straightened and looked around. She spotted Methos, who was sitting on the wall that surrounded the cemetery.
He waved with a bottle. "Do you speak to me again, if I offer you a drink?" he shouted.
He threw the bottle to Brianna as she approached. She caught it and examined the yellowed label.
"Trib, you really try to bribe me with Whiskey I distilled myself?" she asked and sat down on the bottom of the wall.
"Yours the best," Methos answered, "And hundred years of sulking are enough anyway. Actually, you hadn't been so mad at me since that thing in Rome. And even then it took you only about sixty years to calm down."
"Yeah, but then I could stab a sword into your breast. Gave me much relief. Worth at least fifty years of sulking." Brianna took a big gulp and handed the bottle back to Methos. He jumped off the wall and sat down next to Brianna. For a while they were sitting and drinking quietly from the bottle by turns.
"Heard you've got Torcha," Methos said eventually.
"Was a hart fight," Brianna replied. Oh yeah, it had been close.
"Heard that too."
Brianna raised an eyebrow. "So you stick with the watchers again?" She sighed and emptied the bottle. "Do you have more of this?"
"Thought you'll invite me to your secret stock."
"Obviously I've no choice. I've to increase my alcohol level significantly to forgive myself that I forgave you again."
She got up and felt the alcohol in her head. She grasped Methos arm to find her balance. Together they strolled through the nightly streets of Paris to Brianna's city house.
Methos and Brianna spent the night talking, drinking, laughing, drinking, crying and drinking. They shared stories about the time since they had last met. Brianna noticed how much she had missed Methos. She felt comfortable in Methos' present, because she didn't have to hide who she was and what she was. It was a relieve to let all fall masks. Methos was her oldest friend - and the closest. There were times when she liked to take his head – like after the issue one hundred years ago – but nevertheless, Methos was the only person who really knew her. And she knew him as good as anybody could know Methos.
"I can't believe you killed Kronos," she said.
"MacLeod killed him. Not me."
"Yeah, heard that," Brianna replied sarcastically, "Is he a candidate?"
Methos shrugged. "Time will tell."
"And this friendship with a watcher. What is his name?" Brianna asked.
"Joe Dawson. And be sure to keep out of his way. He seems not to like you. I think it has something to do with Nemain."
"Nemain? What kind of a friend have you picked up this time?"
"Hey, you are the one who haven't talked to me for one hundred years. I had no choice than to look for new friends," Methos complained.
"Yeah, but you've never had the right touch for friends." She grabbed another bottle – the third, or maybe fifth? She didn't remember. One good thing about immortality was being immune to alcohol intoxication.
"But I would have liked to meet Alexa," she said.
Methos nodded. Yeah, Alexa and Brianna would have gone along well with each other. He smiled; actually, the two women would have been able to slice him up completely.
"And you? Almost thirty years with the same guy. You've always had the right touch for choosing your friends."
"You'll meet him. He's arriving in Paris tomorrow."
Brianna woke up with a terrible hangover. She was lying on the big wooden table in her library. Methos was lying under the table and snoring.
"That's what you're doing if you go out are alone? Picking up guys and drinking them under the table?"
Brianna recognised the intruder according to his deep voice. "You're early," she said without opening her eyes. Too much light. The man leant over her and kissed her.
"I'm on time. You're just...indisposed." He tried to stay serious. The picture of the two immortals, lying above each other was too funny. "An old friend, I suppose."
Brianna rose and sat on the table. "The oldest." She hit Methos with her foot. "Michael, meet Adam. Trib, meet Michael Hannah."
Methos opened one eye. "It's too early for smart-alecky Tommies," he said grumpily.
Michael raised an eyebrow and looked at Brianna. She shook her head. "No, you don't have to like him. Few people do, anyway."
Later, all three were sitting in the kitchen and eating breakfast. Well, Michael was eating while the two immortals were sipping coffee.
"I haven't known that immortals can suffer from such a hangover," Michael said amused.
Methos gave him a glance. "It was the Whiskey. Hell, Bree, what was that stuff?"
Brianna shrugged, "Perhaps a bit high in concentration. It was in the barrel too long. But I would never water my Whiskey with the broth that comes out of the tube here."
Methos didn't answered but felt meanwhile comfortable enough to suck on a toast. "Do you guys have plans for today?" he asked.
"We have a balcony at the opera tonight. La Traviata. Do you want to join us?" Brianna couldn't hold back a grin.
Methos sighed. "I don't really want to. There are more human ways of torture I can think of. Mike, be honest, do you really like operas?"
Michael grinned. "Nope," he said, "But I love Brianna dressed up to go there."
Methos laughed. "Okay, I'll join you. Finally Brianna was so gracious to forgive me. Once more."
Brianna frowned suspiciously. "What are you planning, Trib? Will I want to kill you after I'll find it out?"
"Probably. But after the opera I'll probably commit suicide anyway." He kissed her on her cheek. "Be good, guys. See you."
"Oh my god! That was more dreadful than I remembered," Methos was still complaining while they were heading down the stairs to the big lobby of Paris Opera. "Did you see, the guy in the opposite balcony even got a heart attack. They carried him away on a stretcher."
"You volunteered for that, remember?" answered Brianna in a good temper.
"Faintly," murmured Methos and offered her his arm. She linked with him and laughed.
Michael took Brianna's other arm. "But I was right about the dress, wasn't I?" he said, looking at Brianna's décolleté.
Methos rolled his eyes. "Using sex to bring people to watch operas isn't fair," he said.
Brianna enjoyed the evening. Accompanied by the two men she loved most she left the opera. They went to a small bar to have a drink. "So, Trib. I'm very relaxed and unarmed since Michael has my sword in his coat. This is your chance to tell the truth about your sudden opera admiration without being beheaded."
"It's nothing big. Just these immortals who want my head."
Brianna sighed. Michael frowned. After thirty years living with an immortal, he knew everything about the Game. And he knew how good Brianna was at it. But still, he was worried. Even if he had to promise Brianna decades ago not to try to protect her, it was hard not to interfere.
"Who is it?" Brianna asked.
"Kraden and his newest student."
Brianna laughed. "And I was already worried. This wannabe Darth Vader and one of his puppets? We can do them even before breakfast."
Everything would have been perfect. They would have beheaded master and student and Brianna would have been out of the city before Joe or another watcher would have even noticed. No chance for a watcher to trace her. No chance for Brianna to stumble over Joe. The plan was good. But eventually, someone just didn't to stick to the plan. Kraden and Reynolds, for example. Methos and Brianna had agreed to search for them the following morning. But they had been faster. And more twisty than Methos expected. But what could you expect from the dark side, anyway? They must have done some research on Methos, about his habits and his friends. And as a matter of fact, Methos had more or less only one habit and one friend in Paris: Drinking beer at Joe's Blues Bar and Joe.
The picture was stuck on Methos' door when he arrived at his apartment. The picture showed Joe, handcuffed on a chair, with something around his body that looked like a bomb. With a digital timer. And the timer showed ten in the evening. The only writing on the photo was an address. A warehouse down at the Seine, a bit outside the city center. So much about the plan on Brianna and Joe not meeting each other.
There was not much to do until the evening. The plan was rather simple. They had an advantage because Kraden didn't know that Methos was not alone any more.
"You need three people for this," Michael stated, "Someone has to take care of Dawson and the bomb."
Methos glanced at Brianna. It was her love, therefore her decision. Brianna nodded. Rescuing hostages was what Michael did for a living, after all. There was no way of preventing him to join them anyway. But he was not thirty anymore. He had grown older. But he was still a strong man and a soldier for life.
Methos felt the buzz when he was entering the abandoned warehouse. He had his hands deep in the pockets of his coat and strolled casually towards the immortal who was waiting at the other end of the big hall. Joe was sitting behind Reynolds. He shook his head in disapproval when he saw Methos entering. Why this fool had come? He would die, Joe thought.
Methos gave him a grin. No sign of Kraden, but Methos felt his Quickening close.
"You know, we can handle that without all the mess. Let's have a beer and talk," Methos suggested.
"You're losing your head first. Then I go for a beer," Reynolds answered.
Methos sighed. No sense of humour, these young immortals today. "Then let us play this open. Kraden, show yourself! Only kids play hiding games," he shouted.
Kraden appeared from behind a wall. "Kill him!" he ordered Reynolds.
"Adam, don't do that," Joe cried, "Run, you fool!"
Methos winked at him. The takes were set, the game could begin. He produced his sword from his coat, made a few steps backwards. Then he hit the sword against a metallic tube that was attached to the wall and went along the whole hall. The hollow noise spread through the building. Suddenly, the two other immortals were stiffening. They felt the buzz of a forth immortal.
"Am I late?" Brianna appeared at the scaffold above the men, grinning.
"As always," Methos answered.
"Then let us not wait anymore." She jumped and landed like a cat on all fours. In her hand, she had now her sword. "Which one is for me?" she asked, glancing from Kraden to Reynolds.
"I think we should draw lots," Methos said and searched his pocket. "Shit, no coin. Hey guys, do you have a quarter?" he asked Kraden and Reynolds, who were still stunned by Brianna's sudden appearance.
"Who the fuck are you?" Kraden hissed eventually to Brianna.
"Is this a fucking way to talk to a lady?" Methos said objurgatory, "I invited her since I thought this is the kind of party where everybody can bring a friend."
Joe knew who the woman was, although he had ever seen her or a picture of her. Her watcher file was very thin. Some years ago, some documents had gone lost. Joe now had a hard suspicious on who had made them get lost. Methos working together with Brianna O'Conor, the murderer of Nemain, his former student. Why he was surprised at all, Joe thought. Not this eye-for-an-eye-tooth-for-a-tooth kind of guy. Yeah, Methos, you managed to surpass yourself again. But Joe knew also he couldn't be picky on who was rescuing him.
"Ha, I found a coin!" Brianna cried triumphant and threw it to Methos.
"Head for Vader, number for Luke," Methos suggested.
"Okay, I take head. That's what I'm used to do," Brianna said.
Methos tossed the coin and caught it again. "Err, moment," he said suddenly, "That doesn't work this way. If you say head and head is Vader, then..."
Joe had the hard feeling that the two didn't play that game for the first time. And that they were enjoying it.
"Stop it!" Kraden was about losing his nerves. Not a surprise, since he was about to face a fair challenge. Not his strength, after all. And Reynolds looked nervous as well.
"Just a minute. Enjoy your last moments of life," Brianna said in a voice as talking to a naughty child, "Perhaps we should..."
"I kill you now!" Kraden drew his sword and ran towards Methos. Coward to the end, since he assumed that Methos was Brianna's student and therefore the easier target. Reynolds attacked Brianna with a scream. She made a face, she hated to kill kids. The fighting has begun.
Joe was too much absorbed by watching the fight to notice the man who approached from behind. He flinched when someone started to cut off his bonds.
"Don't move," the man said, "I take a look at the bomb first."
Finally Joe could see the man. English, according to the accent. In his sixties, probably. Short, grey hair. And not distracted by the sword fight, therefore, used to it. But no immortal, that would have caused a reaction of the four immortals. The man whistled softly after a closer examination of the bomb. "Well, no chance to deactivate it. But there's only one trigger. I can cut it off and then we just run."
Good plan, except the running, Joe thought.
"I'm Michael Hannah, by the way," the man said while liberating Joe from the bomb. He helped him on his feet and carried him more or less to the door. "Thirty seconds!" Michael cried to the immortals before escaping outside.
"Have you heard, Trib, do you manage it in that time?" Brianna shouted.
"I don't think I can delay it so long." Methos shouted back. "One!" he counted.
Brianna pushed her opponent closer to the wall. He was no challenge for her. She forced herself not to have pity with him. "Two!" she shouted.
"Three!" they shouted together and with a fast move they chopped at the same time the head of their opponents. For a moment, there was dead silence. And then hell broke off.
The bomb caused finally a rather small detonation. Anyway, it would have been sufficient to blow up Joe, but the building was quite okay afterwards. The double quickening caused a rather bigger damage. Methos and Brianna met Joe and Michael at the car, which was parked at some distance of the warehouse. The immortals were both turned on by the fresh Quickenings. The second for Brianna in only two days. She wouldn't be able to sleep for days.
"They had no idea who they're fucking with," she said, smirking.
Methos nodded. Joe looked from Methos to Brianna and wondered if he actually knew who he was fucking with.
"Let's go. This firework won't stay unnoticed." Michael said eventually.
To be continued...