Bloodlines
It was late at night and most of the residents in Seacouver were already in bed or they were getting there. Methos at that time was in his apartment standing under a hot shower as he too got ready for bed. It had been a long day and he was looking forward to laying down and closing his eyes and forgetting about everything. He had been considering packing up his things and hightailing it to some other corner of the world again for a change in scenery, and also to get away from MacLeod for a while. Methos would never admit it to MacLeod, but where he was concerned, the two of them were like brothers, but they acted more like an old married couple. And MacLeod was the nitpicker of the couple, always nagging Methos for every little thing that he didn't agree with; and even a 5,000 year old man has his limits on just how much he takes before he finally ups and leaves.
For a few minutes he stood under the hot water, half awake and his eyelids growing heavier and him becoming oblivious to his surroundings. Then, out of nowhere, he felt the slightest hint of the quickening of another Immortal nearby. His eyes opened wide and he turned around just as the shower curtain was jerked open.
"Surprise!"
Coming face to face with his dead brother once again being the last thing Methos had anticipated, it took him by more than just a slight surprise. He took a step back, lost his footing and hit his back against the shower wall as he fell.
"Well," Kronos said rather amusedly, "I knew you weren't expecting me but this is a bit much."
Methos looked up at Kronos with his eyes sharp and narrow, "You son of a…"
Kronos grinned sinisterly and laughed as he said, "Come on now, get up."
He turned off the water and grabbed a towel off the rack, pulled Methos to his feet and wrapped the towel around him.
"Sorry to barge in on you like this," Kronos said, "But I had to see you."
"What for this time?"
"You'll find out."
Kronos picked him up and despite Methos' protests and kicking and beating on Kronos with his fists, Kronos carried him into the bedroom, all the while Methos thought about if somebody were to come through his door right now and see nobody moving him across the room as was being done right now, but that thought came to an abrupt end when Kronos dumped him on the bed.
"Alright, Kronos," Methos said as he sat up, "You come in here and interfere with my life again, tell me what you came here for this time."
Kronos dug through the drawers in Methos' dresser, found a change of clothes and threw them at him. "I need you to do me a favor. It's Richie."
Methos' eyes widened when he heard that and he started getting dressed. "Is he alright?"
Kronos started to answer but stopped and just shook his head. "No, and I worry if he gets much worse, he may lose his head the next time somebody challenges him."
Now Methos was starting to feel awful. He had noticed in the last couple of weeks he hadn't seen much of the kid, but he hadn't thought anything was wrong.
"What is it?"
"It's difficult to explain, especially from where I stand," Kronos told him, "You know, no Immortal, no matter how long they live or what they do, most of their life is terrible and we all are familiar with that. It's damn near impossible to avoid. Richie, for being as young as he is, seems to have it worst above most others, and he knows this. He knows that his whole life nobody ever wanted him, the only person who did, died on him. For 13 years he was bounced around like a basketball to people who didn't want him and didn't care about him. And then, the person who willingly takes him in, bitches about everything he does, sends him away, then turns on him and tries to take his head not once but twice. And how's his life going at this moment? Not much better, which is why he's been drinking like a fish the last two months trying either to drown himself or to black it all out from his mind. If he keeps this up, the next time somebody comes looking for him he might not even have the want to stay alive. As far as that boy is concerned, nobody wants him now, and nobody ever did, and nothing's looking much better in his future."
"So what do you want me to do?" Methos asked.
Kronos looked at him somberly as he answered. "It's going to hurt Richie even more than he already is, but I want you to tell him about me. He needs to know that there was somebody in his life who gave a damn about him, and I can't do that. If I do, he won't remember me, he's all but forgotten about me, if I try and tell him, he'll just think he's going crazy, and he'll get even worse. He knows you, Methos, he trusts you, he'll listen to you."
"I don't understand," Methos replied, "What good is it going to do Richie now that you're dead?"
"Don't worry about that, I'll take care of that part myself, but first I need you to tell him about me, he needs to remember before I can do him any good," Kronos said.
Methos hated himself for saying it, but he told Kronos that he would do it. With a slight smile on his face, Kronos thanked him and disappeared before Methos' very eyes. When he was gone, Methos threw his head back against the pillows and sighed, what had he gotten himself into now?
He recalled the conversation the two of them had had that night not too long ago in the afterlife, regarding Kronos' past with Richie, but how was Methos even going to begin explaining it all to Richie that the man he knew was the world dominant power hungry bastard that MacLeod had killed? Where was he even going to start to explain to Richie that the man he knew before he moved in with MacLeod, and his brother was the same person?
And then, the answer came to him almost immediately, and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it sooner. A memory came back to him from the day that he and Kronos left on the first airplane on their way out to the Ukraine to pick up Silas. While they were at the airport waiting for the departure time to come up, Kronos had been going out of his mind with impatience, and Methos did something that if they weren't in a public setting might have gotten him killed. At the time, he didn't know why or how the thought came to him, but Methos reached into his bag and pulled out his camera and called to his brother. Kronos turned around just in time for the flash to blind him for a second, and once he was able to see through the spots, he marched over to Methos and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket to the point he was choking Methos.
"You son of a…"
Methos pried Kronos' curled fingers out of their death grip and all but snapped them backwards to get Kronos to back off. Once Methos was able to breathe again, he started laughing and commented only, "You should've seen your face."
Kronos grabbed the camera and was ready to smash it when he saw the picture had already come out. In the split second that it took for him to turn around before the flash went off, Methos had gotten a perfect shot of him. Kronos didn't know what to make of it, and he didn't want to know, he just looked at Methos and said to him, "You're sick, you know that don't you?"
Methos had tucked the picture away in his bag and had forgotten all about it until just that moment. He sprang up from the bed and searched through his closet until he found the bag he'd taken with him, and searching through its contents he'd never bothered to unpack, he found the picture, surprisingly enough it was in as good a condition as the day it was taken. This would be a good start, he knew, because no matter how Kronos might have looked when Richie last saw him, he would have to know it was the same man.
Looking up from the picture and into the mirror above the dresser, Methos saw that he was crying. This always seemed to happen whenever Kronos paid him a visit. It had about killed Methos when Kronos died, and he knew the worst part of it was never getting to see his brother again. But something had happened to change all that, and now Kronos was able to come and go and appear and disappear from the afterlife whenever he felt his presence was needed back among the living. Strange though it was, to Methos it was therapeutic to know that his brother could hear what he said, and also that he was able to hear what Kronos still had to say; that was one thing about death, it had failed to shut Kronos up. Although, Methos wasn't sure even after he told Richie what he was supposed to, how the boy would react to seeing Kronos appear with a message from beyond the grave.
Tired and confused, Methos fell back against the bed, pulled the covers over him and went to bed and hoped that by morning he would have figured something out.
It was the scream that woke him up. He all but threw himself out of bed as he got up and tried to figure out where the scream was coming from. He realized it was coming directly from the room next door. Without bothering to turn on any of the lights, he dashed out of his room and into the next one where he found the boy thrashing around on the bed, awake but it seemed he was still caught up in a nightmare. He was a young boy, 16 perhaps, no more than 17, a short head of curly red hair, and a face white as a sheet, and blue eyes wide open with panic.
He lunged at the boy and pinned him down against the mattress. The boy screamed even louder and struggled to get loose.
"Richie, calm down!"
The boy didn't answer and it didn't appear that he'd heard the order at all. He screamed and dug his nails into the sheets, trying to pull himself away.
"Calm down, Richie, nobody's going to hurt you." He wrapped his arms tightly around the boy's waist so he couldn't get away.
"That's what you say!" the youth screamed accusingly in response, "That's what they all say, but I know better!"
Richie started screaming as if he was in pain and he fell flat against the mattress. He let go of the boy and sat on the bed next to him and rubbed his back as he listened to the child cry and scream and choke and carry on.
This wasn't the first night Richie had done this, that much he knew. There had been several nights like this; all long and exhausting, all of them finally nearing an end right before the sun came up.
"It's alright, Richie," he told the boy, "It's over, nobody's here now, nobody's going to hurt you."
Whether or not Richie heard, he didn't know.
"Why…" the only word he was able to get out at first. After a minute he tried again, "Why did my mom have to die? Why did she have to leave me? The only person who ever wanted me, and she left me…nobody else ever wanted me, nobody ever did…what did I do that was so horrible that nobody else wanted me, and I had to be alone all my life?"
"Oh Richie, you're not alone…I'm here now."
Methos screamed and jerked up in bed and became aware of his surroundings. It was dark, he was in bed, and it was going on 3 o' clock in the morning. What a dream he'd just had. And yet…was it a dream? Was it really a dream? Or had he somehow tapped into his brother's memories?
He was well aware how some dreams felt too much like reality; and that had certainly been the case just now. It was as if he, not Kronos, had been the one in that room with a much younger Richie some years ago. And how young Richie looked. Methos had never seen any pictures of the boy before he went to live with MacLeod so he couldn't know for certain just how different he looked then. But what he had just seen in his sleep all seemed too perfectly detailed to be a simple dream.
The more Methos thought about it, the less likely it seemed to be a dream. He could feel his body falling against Richie's to stop him before he hurt himself. He could feel the tremors ripping through the boy's body as he screamed and cried. Just remembering it all made him feel sick to his stomach. He couldn't imagine how it must have been for Kronos to actually have to live through it as it happened.
Now he wasn't so sure he'd be able to go through with this when he saw Richie the next day. Then on the other hand, he reminded himself, he was the only one who could do it and he had to do it to help the boy. Though he honestly didn't think Richie would actually see it as being help. Already he was trying to prepare himself for what kind of reactions might come out of the kid; emotional, violent, that much was obvious and expected, but exactly how was Richie going to take the news?
As he thought about it all, he also gave entertainment to the thought that perhaps he was truly starting to lose his mind. Maybe after all these thousands of years, he was finally going insane; because that's sure as hell what it felt like right now. Now, he was starting to get a good idea of the hell that Kronos had put MacLeod through a few months ago. He'd never actually gotten around to discussing that incident with his brother; but he suspected even if he had, he wouldn't get any straight answers anyway. Kronos had a way of avoiding answering anything he didn't care to; and relentless though he was, there was always something in his life, or now afterlife, that he didn't care much to answer for.
It was late, and he was tired. Returning back to bed, he sincerely hoped that he would be able to sleep peacefully for what was left of the night.
Methos woke up at 6:30 and he felt wide awake. The sun was already starting to rise over the city and Methos knew that he had to bite the bullet. But he still wasn't sure what he was going to do. He got up, made the bed and got dressed, after which he fell back against the bed and looked up at the ceiling, wondering what he was supposed to do now. An idea came to him, he didn't know how or why exactly, but he decided that he had to tell somebody about what was going on. So he went to the phone and dialed a long distance number and waited.
He didn't have long to wait; the phone was answered after the first ring, "Hello?"
Kronos' widow was now on the line.
"Jezebel?"
"Methos?"
"Did I wake you?"
"No," she replied with a yawn, "I've been up for hours. I had a horrible time sleeping last night, did you?"
"Sort of."
"So what's going on that you called me up? Is something wrong?"
"I'm not sure…Jezebel, I…something happened last night."
"Oh, what?"
"It's going to sound weird."
"Try me."
"Kronos was here last night."
"What did he want?"
It took Methos a minute to realize that this wasn't exactly new to Jezebel.
"He said that I need to tell Richie about what happened…about when Richie was staying with him."
"Really?"
"Apparently Richie's in some kind of trouble. He's gotten into some kind of a slump lately, and Kronos for some reason thinks it's because he's been tossed aside by everybody who took him in over the years and he still has it in his head that nobody wants him."
"Ah," Jezebel said, "The stuff psychiatrists' dreams are made of. Only this one isn't diverting back directly to the mother, is it?"
"Sort of, but it's more about his father."
"That's going to hit that kid hard," Jezebel said, "Are you sure you're up to it?"
"No I'm not sure," Methos replied, "But I have to do it. I promised Kronos I would, and even now I can't…" if that didn't sound weird, talking about his dead brother in a lively sense, "I can't break my word to him." Never mind that he did plenty of that while Kronos was alive.
"Do you want me to come out there and help you?" Jezebel asked, "Maybe it'd be easier for him to take if both of us were there to explain it."
"I appreciate your offer, Jezebel, but I'm afraid I'm just going to have to go at it alone," Methos said, "I'm going to tell him when I see him later today."
"Are you sure you don't need my help?" Jezebel asked, "We don't have the Concorde here but if I hop on a plane I can be over there…let's see, there's about 300 miles distance between me and you and planes go about 600 miles an hour. Even without the Concorde I could be over there in about half an hour."
Methos laughed, "I appreciate it, Jezebel, but no, you stay where you are, I'm afraid this is going to get rather messy over here."
"So what? I'm an old woman, I'm well familiar with messy situations."
"You better not, this is going to be pretty hard for Richie to take, and he doesn't enjoy having company around when he's upset."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know him. He's spent his whole life trying to hide when something bothers him, but I don't think he'll be able to hide whatever goes through him when I tell him about this. It's going to be awkward enough for him as it is, it'd probably embarrass him to death having more people around him at that time."
Jezebel laughed on the other end, "Youth today, maybe someday he'll finally realize that it's not all about being the big macho hero."
If he lives that long, Methos thought but didn't dare say.
"But then again, MacLeod is much older than Richie is and he's still yet to figure that out...but on another hand, it's to my understanding that young men when they get upset, they're more likely to confide in a woman than another man for fear of that very thing. That they'll be looked down upon by their own kind for being weak or something." She laughed, "6000 years down the road and mankind in its entire form seems to be getting dumber. Oh well, are you sure there's nothing I can help you with?" Jezebel asked.
"No," Methos shook his head, "I just needed somebody to tell."
"Well, if anybody would understand it, I can't think of a more likely candidate," she replied, "You take care of yourself, you hear?"
"Yes, Jezebel."
"And take care of that boy too, and I'll be seeing you guys soon."
"Okay, Jezebel."
"Goodbye."
The next thing Methos did was head to the dojo. He figured he'd talk to MacLeod first and see if he had noticed any changes in Richie recently; he wanted to find out how far the damage had already gone in the kid. When he entered the place, he was immediately hit with another Immortal's quickening from somewhere nearby.
"Mac?" Methos called, "Is that you?"
He heard grunting coming from the office and he went in and saw MacLeod on his hands and knees crawling around the desk, seemingly looking for something. Oh, Methos thought as he took in the rather humorous sight before him, there was a joke in this somewhere, or perhaps several.
"Hello," Methos called out.
Duncan looked up and hit his head on the desk and groaned. "Hello yourself," he replied, "What do you want?"
"What are you doing?" Methos asked.
"Amanda was here a few days ago, and as she was leaving she told me that she left something here that I'm trying to find," Duncan explained as he got up.
"What's that?"
"She gets mad every time she comes here because she thinks I don't tell her everything that goes on…so when I wasn't looking she installed an intercom system, one upstairs in the loft, and one down here…but she wouldn't tell me where they were, and I've been going crazy trying to find them. And that's not the only problem I'm having right now."
Methos could guess. "Is it Richie?"
Duncan nodded, "He came over last night, blind-stinking-drunk," he replied matter-of-factly, "He's been doing this quite a bit lately, last night was just the first time he came over here afterwards."
"Is he still here?"
"He's sleeping it off on the couch," Duncan said, "I don't know what's gotten into him. If he keeps this up…"
"I know, I know, he's going to lose his head the next time somebody challenges him," Methos said.
"Exactly."
"Well," Methos crossed his arms, "Seeing as how well I know you, what did you plan on doing when he wakes up?"
"I…"
"MacLeod," Methos cut him off, "Keep in mind that if you say anything to him that sounds like your usual domineering, holier-than-thou, do-as-I-say-or-else tone which you have become notorious for using with Richie, and everybody else for that matter, you're going to lose him. He won't listen to you, and he's just going to do whatever the hell he's been doing, only he's going to drift further away from you until you can't even find him anymore. No…maybe you should let me talk to him, and see if I can find out what's wrong."
"What makes you think you could do any better?" Duncan asked, taking offense at the idea that he would screw up.
"You've only seen psychiatrists, I've been one in previous times. I know how they think, I know how they access the reactions they get from people when they're upset. You never married, you had no children, I was married 67 times…"
"I know, I know…"
"Most of which who had children during a time when it was normal to see no less than ten kids in one family, and a good number of those kids lived long enough to be Richie's age. I think I have a leg up in this," Methos told him.
Duncan hated to admit defeat, which was why he never did, until now. "Alright," he said, "Go on and see what you can do."
"Your confidence in me is overwhelming, MacLeod," Methos dryly commented.
Methos got into the lift and while he waited to reach the loft, he thought about what he was going to do. What was he going to say to the boy? Where in the hell was he even going to begin?
When he reached the loft, he pushed up the door to the lift and walked into the room. The sun was shining so brightly into the room that any normal person would've been awake already, but Richie remained dead to the world on the couch. Methos walked over to the kid and looked down at him. There were dark rings under his eyes, it had obviously been a few days since he last showered or shaved; his breathing while calm and normal, reeked of tequila and beer. And another thing he noticed, almost immediately though it seemed a bit premature, was that the boy obviously hadn't been eating well recently either, as his clothes which were ordinarily borderline skin tight now starting to hang on his body. Methos sincerely hoped that whatever he did next, he wouldn't screw this up and hurt the kid even more so than he already was.
Oh God, Methos thought, how was he even going to start this? As he looked down at the sleeping Immortal, another memory came to him, another that wasn't his own.
He saw Richie again as a younger kid, looking near death. He was bloody; he'd been beaten up several times and was lying in bed, sleeping, unaware of how bad a condition he was in. And he saw Kronos standing by the bed looking the kid over. There was a nightstand next to the bed and on it laid a sharp kitchen knife. Kronos picked the knife up and held the blade against the fingers on his left hand and he cut two of them open. The blood seeped out but the cut would momentarily heal, before it did however, he smeared his blood across the boy's forehead into a large red cross. Then he picked up Richie's left hand that had blood slowly oozing out of a cut in his palm. He covered the boy's bloody hand with his own and held them together for a minute, letting the two bloods merge as his wounds closed themselves up.
And suddenly, Methos' heart leapt into his throat when he saw two tired eyes looking up at him.
"Hey Methos," Richie said in a low, tired voice, "What's going on?"
"Oh…" he said in his cynical tone, "Not much…and what about you? Here it is 9 in the morning and you already look reincarnated as a rag."
Richie weakly and tired smiled and replied, "So I had a little to drink last night."
"A little?" Methos repeated, "Then the tequila jug must've had a whole pack of worms in it."
Richie laughed and tried to sit up but he wound up falling back against the couch cushions.
"How're you feeling, Richie?" Methos asked.
"Oh," he replied, apparently still half lit, "I'm fiiiiine. What's up?"
"Richie, can you stand up?"
Richie pushed himself to his feet and said, "Now what?"
"Now," the smell of booze on Richie's breath and on his clothes was starting to become nauseating. Methos turned Richie in the direction to the bathroom and said, "Why don't you go get a shower and then we'll talk?"
"Okay," Richie replied.
Richie closed the door behind him and then the loft was quiet. Well, Methos had bought himself a little time, but what was he going to do? He didn't know how he was going to do this. He couldn't figure out how he was going to explain to Richie that Kronos was the man who had saved his life when he was a baby, and who had taken him back in right before he met Duncan. And then, he thought, he owed his brother this much to do this one posthumous favor for him; and also Methos realized he probably owed it to Richie to let him know where he really came from. But how was he ever going to pull it off without sounding like he'd gone crazy?
Twenty minutes later Richie emerged from the bathroom, showered shaved and with Scope on his breath instead of gin and beer.
"So what's going on, old man?" he asked.
"Let's go for a walk, there's something I need to talk to you about and I'd rather not with MacLeod beneath us."
"Okay," Richie replied.
Methos opened the door and they went down the stairs. Methos was dreading coming face to face with MacLeod again so soon, but fate seemed to be working on his side that morning. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, MacLeod was talking to a man who had come in, so Methos and Richie hightailed it out of there before the Scot could take too much notice.
"So where're we going?" Richie asked.
"I think it'd be good if we went back to your apartment," Methos told him, "What I've got to tell you is sort of private."
"Okay."
Richie opened the door and the two stepped into the darkened room. Methos went over to the windows and pulled open the curtains and let the sun into the room to brighten things up. In doing so, it also shined some light on how big of a mess the apartment was in. It didn't look like a murder had taken place but maybe an attempted murder. The bed was unmade, there were clothes and other things tossed all over the floors and there were empty bottles and beer cans from the bed's headboard to the kitchen sink. Already Methos was starting to get a good idea of what Kronos meant when he said Richie wasn't well.
"I'm guessing it's been a while since you had company," Methos said.
Richie half ignored the comment and cleared the pack of crushed beer cans off the kitchen table. "So I'm a little behind on my housekeeping…you mean to say your place never looks like this?"
"Once in a while," Methos replied, "When a tornado comes whirling by."
"So what was it you wanted to talk about?" Richie asked.
"You better sit down first," he told the boy, "What I've got to say isn't going to sound too believable."
Richie pulled out one of the chairs and sat at the table. Methos sat down next to him. He didn't know what to say, so he decided to show Richie the picture first.
He took the photograph out of his pocket and held it out for Richie to see. "Richie, have you ever seen this man before?"
Richie took the picture and looked at it for a minute.
"I don't know," he said, "He looks kind of familiar…"
"Try and think, it's very important," Methos told him.
Richie stared at the picture for another minute and suddenly it seemed to hit him.
"Yeah, yeah," he said, "I stayed with this guy before I moved in with Mac and Tessa…uh…Graham was his name, Graham…Korda, that was his name."
"That's what I thought. You see, Richie, this man in the picture," Methos said, "Is…was my brother, Kronos."
The expression on Richie's face changed, "What?"
"After he died, I went through everything of his that hadn't been destroyed or lost…and I found out that he took you in…"
"Are you sure?" Richie asked, "There couldn't be some mistake?"
"I know my brother. I also know that MacLeod painted a fine picture for you to have as a first impression of Kronos, a holy terror…and at the end of his life, that's about what he was…but you remember I told you he wasn't always like that. He was never like MacLeod but he wasn't always pure evil either. He…he found you when you were a baby, he took you home with him. Now, he told you about your mother, Emily Ryan, he told you that he knew her briefly and that she lived across from him in an apartment complex, right?"
Richie tried to think. "Yeah…yeah, that's what he said."
"Well, he did know her, she did live across from him…but they were a lot closer than he led you to believe."
Richie's eyes widened when he heard that, "You mean they…"
"Oh no, Emily was a rare woman in every sense, and Kronos, strange as it might sound, had too much respect for her to do something like that. In any case, she was still married at the time and she was a…dignified woman, she wouldn't have had anything to do with that."
"She was still married? To Jack Ryan?" Richie asked.
"Yes, did Kronos ever tell you about him?"
"He said that when he knew Emily, Jack had already left, and he didn't know much about him," Richie answered.
"He knew," Methos replied, "If you can't remember him, then you're better off."
"Oh…" Richie's gaze slowly dropped to the table.
"Emily couldn't have children, and when Jack saw you for the first time, he thought she'd lied about it. He thought that there was something going on between your mother and Kronos. Well…Kronos personally saw to it that Jack Ryan never bothered your mother again."
"So then it's true, he did leave her when I came around. I always wondered how a guy who loved his wife and knew she was having his kid, could leave her…only, I wasn't their kid…it makes more sense all the time."
"Kronos thought he was sparing you the pain of knowing how it really was. He decided if you didn't remember your mother's husband knocking you across the room, and beating the hell out of her, and screaming like a drunken bastard to let the whole damn town know what's going on…that you were better off. And when Kronos left, he made sure that you stayed with Emily because she loved you, and that way she wouldn't have to be left alone after Jack walked out on her. When Kronos got back, he found out that Emily had died, and he tried finding you but it seemed you had disappeared off the face of the earth by that time. When he found you again later on, he didn't know what you did remember, but he knew what you didn't remember and he didn't want you to remember anything that would've caused you anymore pain than you'd already been in your whole life."
Richie closed his eyes for a minute, as though he was trying to block out something that he didn't want to have to face.
"I just don't get it," he said, "Why did he lie? Why didn't he tell me that he was the one who took me in?"
"Because he didn't want you to think he was just another person to walk out of your life and abandon you…it wasn't that at all. He loved you, but he couldn't take you where he was going, and he couldn't leave you with just anybody, so he left you with Emily because he knew that she'd raise you as her own, and he knew you'd be better off with a mother than an absent father. But nobody was counting on her dying the next year."
"That seems pretty damn obvious," Richie replied.
"Richie, I'm sorry, but for as long as you've been trying to find out about your early life and you didn't find anything, I thought it was time you finally knew something concrete."
Richie nodded in agreement as he opened his eyes again. Without a word, he stood up from the table.
"Are you alright?" Methos asked.
He nodded again, but Methos noted he seemed to be breathing harder now.
"Yeah," he answered, "I'm fine…this is just…it's a shock, you know?"
"I know," Methos nodded, "I couldn't believe it myself when I first found out."
"Well I…I appreciate you telling me at least," Richie said, "Now I know."
Before Methos had a chance to say anything else, Richie added quickly, "Hey, listen, I've got a few things I have to take care of, so I guess I'll see you later."
"Richie," Methos got up from the table.
Only he didn't know what to say. What he'd already told Richie was a lot for the kid to have to take in. He wasn't sure he'd said enough but he had an idea Richie wouldn't be up to listening to anymore anytime soon.
"I'll see you around," Methos added.
Richie nodded, "Yeah."
Methos reached the door when Richie asked, "What about the picture?"
"Keep it," Methos said, "I think you'll get more use out of it than I would. I'll be seeing you, Richie. Goodbye."
"Bye."
Methos was out the door and down the stairs and out of the building. What was he going to do now? Clearly he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. So for now he'd go back home and unpack his bags, and wait, and see what happened next.
He wasn't sure it was a good idea to leave as soon as he had, but he also knew that Richie already had a lot to deal with right now. If he had stuck around longer and continued to explain, it might be too much too soon and Richie might've gone into an emotional breakdown. In his life, Richie had made a reputation for himself as capable of taking just about anything anybody could throw at him. But that was for survival, and Methos knew it; Richie hadn't had much exposure to people who didn't string him along and use him for an ulterior gain, so he didn't know too much how to respond to people who genuinely tried to help him.
Another thing Methos knew, the kid was a lot like he was; if things started to look too rocky for him here, he wasn't above packing a bag and getting the hell out of town. So for the time being, Methos would stay close by, and watch, and see what happened next. He wasn't too far off that he couldn't come back and check in on the boy if he needed to. For right now, he'd just step back, give the kid room to breathe, and see what came of it all.
Richie watched from his window and saw Methos walk up the street until he was out of sight. When he was sure Methos had gone, Richie went back over to the table and looked down at the picture again. He had been wracking his brain trying to clearly remember the man in the picture. He had known the man as Graham Korda. MacLeod had a long time ago known him as Melvin Koren. And to Methos, it was his brother, Kronos. Richie knew that he should remember seeing this guy; in the back of his mind he knew that he had lived in the same house as this man, but it all seemed so vague, almost like a dream.
How he could remember what the man had told him about his parents, and about his relation to them, he didn't know. That part of his life he had tried to hard to block from his memory for so long, but why had he done it? It had been so long, now he wasn't sure if he could remember. He tried to think. Five years ago, right before he moved in with Duncan and Tessa.
"It looks like you'll survive."
It hit him, he remembered! He saw himself, younger, thinner, bloodier, and scared to death; he had woken up in an unfamiliar place and there wasn't anybody around. He sat up and found himself covered in his own blood, he screamed, and that man, Kronos, he appeared in the doorway, looking almost exactly like the picture. Richie's mind was filled with all the horror stories Duncan had told him about Melvin Koren, and the Four Horsemen, and what they did to Cassandra, and what Kronos had been working on in the submarine base. And yet it didn't seem to fit the man he remembered.
He remembered being paralyzed with fear when the man came into the room and hovered over the bed.
"Take it easy," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you."
He looked Richie over for about a minute and came to a conclusion.
"Don't worry, it looks worse than it actually is."
"Who…who are you?" he remembered asking.
"My name is Graham Korda."
"Nice to meet you…I suppose."
Suddenly Richie couldn't see and he hit the first thing in front of him. Glass shattered and the noise filled the otherwise quiet apartment. Richie opened his eyes and realized he'd put his fist through the mirror on the wall. His knuckles were bleeding and there was glass in them, but he didn't care. All of a sudden he didn't care about anything. In that instant, nothing seemed to matter anymore.