2005 - London
The nurses and doctors were convinced that she was a gold digger. Brianna didn't care. But it made it difficult to get Michael out of the hospital. And she wouldn't let him die in this sterile atmosphere.
"Everything okay?" Michael looked pale and haggard. The strong man was gone, consumed by the cancer. They fought. They lost. And still, Michael was caring about her. He'd never managed not to protect her.
"Just some administrative stuff. Then we'll go home." She took his hand.
The buzz of another immortal made her rise her head. Damned, she had no time for that now.
"I called him," Michael said, recognizing Brianna's stiffening.
Brianna looked puzzled at Michael, then to the door where Methos appeared.
"I thought you shouldn't be alone," Michael said, shrugging apologetically.
Brianna leant over him and kissed him. "We should really talk about this protection thing once again," she said, smiling.
The doctor showed up. "Regarding your request to take the patient home..." he began.
Methos interrupted him, "Hi, I'm the lawyer of Michael Hannah. I think we should talk about that outside," he said.
The doctor looked puzzled but followed Methos.
Michael died a week later on board of his sailing ship in the Brianna's arms. Brianna didn't attend the funeral. Michael had a lot of friends from his professional activities and from his time with Special Forces. Many of them had met Brianna earlier and they would have noticed that she hadn't aged. So she waited until the ceremony was over and the people had left the graveyard. Then she went to the grave lying down flowers. She stood there a moment, tried to cope with it, but finally she collapsed. She let herself fall on the ground and gave vent to her feelings. The gods were grieving with her and let the heaven rain. Brianna didn't feel the rain, didn't feel the cold. She felt nothing but her lost.
Methos was standing a bit away from the grave in the shelter. He managed to keep the gardener and several visitors of the graveyard from calling the police or an ambulance.
After three days and three nights, Brianna rose. Methos wrapped her in a blanket and got her into her car. Finally back in her apartment, Methos wanted to bring her to sleep, but Brianna refused. Too much things to do. Put away a life. Michael's life. Their life. Brianna knew that she couldn't bear to stay in their common apartment. She began to pack Michael's clothes in boxes. Methos helped her, always making sure that Brianna had a full glass of alcohol in her range. "You've never told me how you met him," he said.
Backflash: 1975 – Central Africa
Brianna thought about ignoring it. Finally, it was just some crazy millionaire with the wish to self-actualize. If he wanted to throw his money out of the window and stumble through the African jungle, it wasn't Brianna's problem. The chance that he would actually find the mask was minimal. Yeah, minimal but not inexistent, Brianna told to herself. What if...? Brianna sighed. It was long ago that she had sworn to protect the mask. And finally, she hadn't taken the oath alone. Methos had also been there. Brianna considered calling him. But that would mean, first of all, to talk to him again, and Brianna had no desire to do so, and then, secondly, he would trick her to do it by her own anyway. Was there a limitation period for blood oaths? Probably not, and there was no limitation period for her conscience anyway.
It was rather easy to convince Richard Burton that she was Claudia Bracher, an ambitious German Ph.D. student, writing a thesis about the mask of Amanitore. This due to the fact that she knew a lot about the mask – finally, she was one of only two living people who actually had seen it – and she had the adequate paperwork, something that she had learnt from Methos. Only two weeks later she was sitting in a plane to Africa. The plan was that she would hang around the expedition as long as she would be convinced that Burton had no clue where the mask actually was. And due to the fact that Brianna knew that there was no evidence about the location of the temple – if Methos was good at something then at not letting behind evidence – it wouldn't take long. In a few days, Brianna thought, she would be home again. But once again, life just didn't want to stick to the plan. It just became waste paper the moment Burton introduced her to Michael Hannah.
"Meet Major Michael Hannah." Burton said. "The major is the only living person who has actually seen the mask."
Not quite, Brianna thought.
"It seems that Michael is a bit...hm...handicapped?" she stated. It was obvious that Major Hannah didn't volunteer for this expedition since he was sitting handcuffed on a chair.
"Unfortunately, our good Major has no appreciation of our mission to retrieve long forgotten history," Burton said, "But nevertheless, I managed to convince him to join us."
Brianna had seen the mercenaries that Burton had hired. All armed to their teeth. She could easily imagine how Major Hannah was convinced.
"Do you have a problem?" Burton asked and examined her closely.
Brianna shook her head. "The only thing I want is to find the mask," she said, "But how Michael can help us?"
"The Major used to be SAS, you know, British Special Forces. They were on a secret mission in Western Africa two years ago. But their helicopter was shot down by rebels. In the crash the whole crew died, except Hannah. He made his way through the jungle and happened to stumble over an ancient temple."
"The temple of the mask," Brianna concluded, "It's said King Natakamani built a temple, hidden in the jungle to store the mask."
Burton nodded. "It took Hannah weeks to reach civilisation again. He described the discovery of the temple and the mask in his report. But SAS wasn't really interested in historic artefacts."
Brianna wondered how Burton had come in possession of the report. SAS wasn't known for publishing secret mission reports. Connections was possible the answer, and money. And Burton had more than enough of both. And Brianna had a real problem now. Somebody had actually found the temple and the mask. Even if this somebody was rather reluctant to lead them there, Brianna knew that in the end, he would have no chance to defy.
Brianna thought again about calling Methos. Finally, he was the mastermind of sophisticated plans. But probably Methos would just suggest killing Hannah. Ultimately, Methos was always preferring the most pragmatic method. Without Hannah, Burton would never be able to find the temple because the report didn't describe the location precisely enough. Brianna thought about this option. But she'd never liked to kill mortals. And in addition, she was impressed by the man who resisted Burton and his money, because Brianna was sure that Burton had tried to bribe Hannah first. And probably with a hell lot of money.
Therefore, Brianna had no other choice than to work out her own little plan B, which consisted mainly of improvisation. The expedition was scheduled to leave in two days but for the preparations of her replacement plan she needed more time. She knew how to gain that little extra time when she almost stumbled over a small red fruit on her way from the hotel to the storage building, where Burton had installed his headquarters. She picked up the fruit and looked up to the tree from which it had fallen down. She smirked. The next day, half of the crew suddenly suffered from a heavy diarrhea. There was the suspicion that the salad which the crew had eaten for dinner had been contaminated, but now it was too late to stick to the old British rule for tropic food: Cook it, peel it or leave it. While the crew was running between bed and toilet, Brianna, who didn't feel more than a slight rumble in her stomach, had time to run a few errands.
Finally, the expedition was on the move. Apart from Richard Burton, Michael Hannah and Brianna, there were three mercenaries, ex soldiers, who were hired to protect the expedition from the various guerrillas which operated in the region, and to guard Hannah. Brianna named them Tick, Trick and Track. Then there were twelve local bearers who were carrying the equipment. Jeeps brought the expedition as far into the jungle as possible. Then they had to walk. On the third day, Brianna started her little sabotage. She had started already in town to make friends with the leader of the local bearers. Brianna had always been good at persuading people. So when they had set up the camp for the night, Brianna took her plate and sat for dinner next to the locals. After the meal, Brianna had reached her aim. When she woke up the next morning, the bearers were gone.
Burton was cursing and Brianna gave her best to look worried and frightened.
"You talked to them last night," he barked at her, "Did they say anything?"
Brianna shook her head. "They seemed to be in good mood."
"Dirty pack! You can't trust them," Tick, one of the mercenaries, said and spitted on the ground. "Let's go, we don't need them."
Burton hesitated. Without the bearers, they wouldn't be able to carry all the equipment.
"Problems?" Michael asked amused, "Seems that not everybody dances to your tunes."
Tick awarded that remark with a punch in Michael's stomach. Tick smirked when he saw Michaels face distorted in pain.
"No problems," Burton answered firmly, "Let's decide what's really necessary and then distribute the equipment new."
They were continuing their journey and Brianna was thingking about her next sabotage. She chose her targets carefully, always making sure that the incidents were looking like accidents. However, when Brianna managed to set fire to Burton's satellite pictures of the jungle, even if she made it looks like the result of flying sparks of the camp fire, the suspicion grew. Too many bad things happened to the expedition. Interestingly, the main suspect was Michael, despite the fact that he was handcuffed most of the time. And Michael did nothing to dispel the suspicion against him. Brianna started to like him. However, her actions didn't result in the capitulation of Burton. He was totally fanatic about the mask. And his three mercenaries too greedy to give up. Brianna did her best to play the frightened, but determined and over ambitious young scientist.
After almost two weeks, they arrived finally on a spot where two rivers were merging. Michael had described this place in his SAS report. He had arrived there, coming from the adverse direction, following one of the rivers. However, in the report it wasn't mentioned which river he had followed. And Michael didn't intend to fill that gap. The mercenaries were beating him for half an hour, but Michael didn't even lose his grin in his face. Brianna cursed silently. This stubborn bastard. They would kill him on the spot.
"Hey, let me talk to him," she shouted finally to stop them.
"What you think you can do?" Tick said sneering.
"Sometime it is better to take the soft way," she replied.
Burton hesitated, and then nodded. "Let her try." He had not many choices left.
Brianna took the first aid kit and sat down next to Michael. Silently she began to clean the wounds. She waited until the others were on other side of the clearance out of earshot.
"They will kill you," she said finally.
"I know," Michael replied.
"You are too young to be so fatalistic. Don't you want to live?"
"You don't understand, do you?"
"It's just a thing. A clump of gold, nothing more. Is it really worth dying for?"
"If it's worth killing for, it must be," he answered, looking straight in Brianna's eyes.
Damned, she really liked this guy. "May I tell you the story of Alejandro Diego Spinoza?"
"Has it a happy ending?"
"No, he died screaming in agony."
"Then I take a rain check."
Brianna sighed. "You're a damn pig head. You don't want to talk? Fine. But then stick to it." she rose. "It's the left one," she shouted.
Michael wondered for a second if she had just taken a good guess. But then he realised that he had just found the saboteur.
An ancient column with hieroglyphs on it signalled the expedition that they finally arrived near their destination. The column was marking the spot where they had to begin the descent into the valley. Everyone was excited, however, Brianna succeeded in persuading Burton not to start the descent before the next morning and to erect the camp for the night next to the column.
Since the several accidents had happened, the mercenaries had started to keep a watch during the night. Brianna had to get rid of that watch to make one of her last plans work. The rainforest was a source of all kinds of medicine - and of poison, if you knew the right plants and the right doses. And Brianna knew it. She had collected the day before the seeds of a rather unimpressing looking, small white flower. However, the seeds, boiled in water had a seditative effect. Brianna put the seeds clandestinely into the water when she was preparing the coffee for dinner. One hour after the dinner, everybody was asleep. Brianna glanced at Michael who was also lying in his sleeping bag. She wasn't sure if he was asleep too since he hadn't drunk the coffee. However, it didn't matter because Brianna was sure that he wasn't telling anything.
In fact, Michael was awake. He saw when Brianna was rising, sneaking out of the camp and finally vanished between the trees. It wasn't before dawn she came back, as silently as she left, and laid back in her sleeping bag. He couldn't figure her out. He was sure that she was sabotaging the expedition since the beginning. However, he couldn't even speculate about her motives. But he knew that she had saved his life, for whatever reasons.
The next morning, they descended to the valley floor. Three hours later, they arrived at the ruins of the temple.
"The temple of King Natakamani, finally." Burton was enthusiastic.
The temple was in a surprisingly good shape. Considering that it was almost two thousand years old. It was covered by plants and trees, but most of the walls were still intact. Burton could hardly wait until the camp was established. He wanted to explore the old building and search for the mask straight away. However, the entry was blocked by a fallen tree. It took them more than half a day to free it. Finally, they reached the interior of the temple. The building had a very simple lay out, consisting only of a small entree and a big, square main chamber. A stone door separated the two chambers. The heavy door was still sliding on the smooth stone floor despite the centuries which had passed. Finally, they entered the sanctuary. The chamber was completely empty except a small altar made of a square stone in its middle. On its top, the mask. Burton was breathless and even Tick, Trick and Track remained silent. Michael wondered why the mask had seemed bigger and more majestic when he had discovered it two years ago. Well, he had been injured then and the weeks he had spent in the jungle were rather blurred in his memory anyway.
"Now we have what we came for, what we are doing with him?" Tick asked, pointing at Michael.
"Kill him," Burton ordered without hesitation.
Brianna was cursing silently in a dead language. That wasn't the plan. She had hoped that they would just leave him back.
"Wait!" she cried, "This isn't necessary. We have the mask."
"What you are suggesting, Babe?" Track asked, "Do you think he'll just go home without telling somebody what happened?"
"Who cares? Who would believe him?"
But Burton was not anymore susceptible to common sense. He was holding the mask, smiling, having forgotten the reality.
Track raised his gun and pointed at Michael. Brianna jumped. The bullets hit her back. She fell towards Michael, took him to the ground.
Michael heard how the stone door was shifted and blocked with something heavy. They were trapped. Cautiously, he shifted Brianna to the side. He pressed his hand on the wounds, but it was senseless.
"Don't worry," she whispered hoarsely, "I'm right back."
Michael felt how her body slackened. "Damn you, woman! Why the hell have you done that!" he shouted. He had been ready to die. But the death of this young woman made no sense at all. He didn't understand why she had saved his life, again. He remained sitting on the floor, the dead body in his arms. He couldn't do anything, not even bury her. Locked up in the chamber, he would be soon dead as well. But that wasn't important any more.
He didn't know much time had passed, when suddenly a light trembling drove through Brianna's body. Gasping for breath, she resurrected and opened her eyes.
"Don't move," Michael said automatically, without really understand what just had happened. Taken aback, he noticed that her wounds had closed and only thick scars remained.
"I said I'm right back," she muttered, trying to sound light. But she knew that there was no room for standard explanations such as bullet proof vests. He had seen too much, had been too close. She had died right in his arms and then revived again. He wouldn't believe the normal lies. But probably, he would neither believe the truth. He rose and made a few steps backwards. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.
"I am Brianna O'Conor. And I am immortal." She remained sitting on the ground and looked up to him.
"Immortal?" he repeated in disbelieve.
Brianna nodded. "I don't die. Neither bullets, diseases nor old age can kill me."
Michael's common sense revolted. It refused even considering that something like immortality could exist. But it could neither deny what he just had witnessed. He took a deep breath and tried to take one step after the other. Solving first the most immediate problem.
"Does your immortality also enable you to move through walls?" he asked, "They barricaded the door."
"No. But it let me know the back door." She reached out her hand and he automatically pulled her on her feet. She went to the altar, searched for a moment and suddenly and with a loud noise, one of the base plates moved. Beneath, a dark opening appeared.
"Nice trick," he said, "By the way, if you don't age, how old are you?"
"It's not polite to ask a lady's age," Brianna replied.
"I think that's only before the lady reaches the first century," he answered.
Brianna laughed, but didn't answer the question. "I think we should wait in here until Burton and his commando are gone," she suggested instead.
"And the mask? You took all this effort to sabotage the expedition and now you just let them have it?"
"I have to admit my plan didn't completely work out as intended," Brianna said, "A friend of mine is the master of sophisticated plans. I'm only a layman in this. But it's not as bad as it seems. And I kept you alive, Mike, that was a hell of a job."
Michael looked at her tattered and blood covered shirt which didn't really covered her body anymore. The scars were gone, her skin was immaculate. He reached out for her. He hesitated, waited for her nod, before he touched her, assuring himself that there were no traces of the bullets anymore. She felt him touching her back, felt his fingertips sensing for the wounds that were gone. She shivered.
"Thank you, for saving my life," he said, his voice deeper than normal, standing close to her.
"You're welcome," Brianna answered and looked up to him. For a moment, she thought he would kiss her. But then, the moment was gone.
"Brianna O'Conor?" repeated Michael eventually, "So, you're Irish?"
"Born and raised."
They waited until the next day before they went out of the chamber through the hidden tunnel. Their backpacks were still lying at the abandoned camping site. They climbed out of the valley and when they reached the column Brianna stopped. She rummaged around in her backpack and finally produced a blue packet that she had hidden in a packet of tampax.
"Plastic?" Michael said astonished.
"We have to blow up this column. With it gone, nobody will be able to find the temple again." She passed the explosive and the fuses to Michael. "I suppose SAS taught you how to do such a thing."
Michael grinned. "You're a woman full of surprises," he said and looked around, "We should also blow off this rock, over there at the beginning of the descent to the valley."
Brianna nodded. "Good idea. Without these two landmarks, the access to the valley will be invisible."
"Presumed that's still important, now the mask is gone," added Michael, but Brianna didn't take the bait.
The explosion left only boulder which would soon be covered by the rainforest.
"Nice work, Mike," Brianna said, "Let's go."
"Wrong direction," Michael said, "We'd come from there."
"I know a shortcut to the coast."
The journey went on without any problems. Michael evade to talk about Brianna's immortality; in fact, he hardly said anything the whole week it took them to reach the coast. Brianna thought he coped quite good with it, though. They checked in to a small hotel in two separate rooms with a shared balcony. In the evening, Brianna was sitting on that balcony, watching the sunset. She was sipping on a glass of very bad Whiskey she had found in the hotel bar. But at least it was alcohol. She definitely had earned a drink after these weeks. Michael entered the balcony and sat next to her.
"You want a drink, too?" she asked.
Michael shook his head. "I don't drink."
"Really? Never mind. Everyone has its flaws. I still like you."
"You like me?" he asked, grinning.
"Yeah, surprisingly, even though you're an English bastard," she said, smiling, "And I know you like me too."
He grinned even more. "Even though you're immortal and Irish." He leaned forward and kissed her. Brianna kissed him back and embraced him. He touched her face, her neck, her breast. "Let's go inside," she said and he lifted her up and carried her into the room. Brianna felt safe and warm in his arms. She dared to hope that perhaps it might be even possible to let herself go and fall in love again. That perhaps Michael was strong enough to catch her.
They bought two tickets for a cargo ship that also accepted passenger. It would embark in two days. They spent the next day exploring the vibrant African city, visiting markets and playing tourist. Brianna enjoyed the company of Michael and he seemed to feel the same. But she also knew that there was still an aspect of her immortality Michael didn't know about. She thought about a way to tell him in a good moment, but then the events just came thick and fast.
They were having dinner when Brianna suddenly felt the buzz of another immortal. She knew that her wish that it might be a friend or just an immortal who didn't want to fight was in vain, it always was. But this time, the gods meant it really bad with her, she thought, when she recognised the huge black man entering the restaurant: Janbar Ulurusi. He was hunting her for centuries. There was an old story about some wives of his Brianna encouraged to leave him. He had taken it personal. Well, it had been personal, to be honest. He approached their table. "Tonight I kill you, O'Conor," he hissed without any introduction.
Michael wanted to rise but Brianna stopped him with a determinate gesture. "Whenever you want," she said calmly. The appointment was made and Ulurusi left as sudden as he had appeared.
"Was that an immortal, too?" Michael asked.
"How'd you guess?" she asked.
Michael didn't know. There had been something in his face, in his whole gesture. And in Brianna's reaction.
"Isn't it ironic to threaten an immortal with death?" he asked.
"Nothing is absolute, not even immortality," Brianna replied.
They went back to their hotel. Brianna was thinking about how she could distract Michael, but there was no way. He didn't leave an eye off her. She produced her sword which she had sewed into the lining of her backpack.
"Do me one favour, Michael, please. Stay here."
"You're not going to fight this giant with a sword, are you?"
Brianna sighed. "I have no choice. Can you hand me that towel?"
Michael shook his head, thinking about how he could manage to bring this crazy woman to reason – and made the mistake to turn his back on her. She hit him with the knob of her sword.
Ulurusi was taller and stronger than Brianna. But fighting was more than only strength. Fighting was also technique, speed and tactic. And in these, Brianna was miles ahead of her opponent, who moved rather slowly and clumsy, relying totally on his physical advantage. The fight was hard, but Brianna was never really in danger to lose. Finally, she succeeded in outmanoeuvring him. His sword slid out of his hand and weaponless he fell down. Brianna raised her sword. With a sharp movement she let it come down and his head rolled to the ground. As she looked up, waiting for the Quickening, she saw Michael. He was standing in the half dark, watching her. She wanted to warn him, but then the first lighting struck her. Pig head, she thought, next time, she had to hit harder.
He came closer when the Quickening was over. She grabbed her sword and tried to come to her feet.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I am Brianna O'Conor. I am immortal. And there can only be one."
"That's not enough," he said, but he helped her to stand up. The questions had to wait for the moment since in the distance they could hear the sirens of the rescue service. The lightshow hadn't remained unnoticed.
Back in the hotel room, Brianna was sitting on the floor, drinking the content of the mini bar – Michael had refused to drink anything – and explaining the Game to Michael, who was walking up and down, asking from time to time a question, but mostly just was listening silently. Too silently for Brianna's taste.
"You're good at this," he said finally, "At this sword thing. At the Game." He had seen her fighting, he knew it.
Brianna nodded. "Yes I am."
"I need some air," he said. He grabbed his jacket and vanished. Brianna sighed. So much about breaking it to him gently.
Michael didn't come back that night and Brianna was afraid that he had left. But the next morning, he was standing at the harbour, ready for embarking the ship. He didn't really talk to her but that didn't matter for the moment. For Brianna it was enough to know that he was safe. They had separate cabins and Michael obviously tried to avoid her. She saw him standing at the railing, watching the sea. She couldn't help him. He had to figure it out by himself. The ship was heading for Malta, where they planned to disembark and take a flight back to London. There was a stop at Casablanca. Michael left the ship, Brianna preferred to stay. To come across another immortal was to be avoided. She was lying on the foredeck, enjoying the African sun, when suddenly a newspaper landed on her belly. Brianna blinked and saw Michael, standing above her.
"Only a layman?" he said, "You're a damned Irish bitch." He sounded more impressed that angry.
Brianna glanced at the journal. The headline was 'American millionaire arrested with false African mask'.
"They arrested him when he wanted to leave the country. It's written that someone gave customs a tip that he wanted to smuggle robbed African artefacts. But when experts examined the mask, it turned out to be a fake. A simple copper mask, covered with a thin film of gold."
"Bad luck," Brianna said, sprawling on her lounger.
"You swapped them. The night before we arrived at the temple."
"Yep," she said grinning.
"Why haven't you told me?"
"I was waiting for the right moment," she said.
"Timing seemed to be one of your problems," he replied.
2005 – London to Paris
The apartment was empty. Her life as well. The only thing left was a letter of Michael. A goodbye letter. Brianna didn't dare to open it. It would mean to say definitely goodbye to him.
"I'm not ready for a new life, yet," Brianna said.
"Perhaps you should visit Belan. When I visited him recently, he mentioned that water well you haven't yet finished," Methos suggested. In that state of mood, Brianna was dangerous. To herself and everybody else around her.
Brianna made a face. "Too thin air and too many prayers. I don't feel like monastery life at the moment."
Methos sighted. "You can move in with me," he said. Where he could have an eye on her, he added silently. He just hoped she wouldn't kill him by accident.
They arrived in Paris some days later. Methos had the vague hope that Brianna would maintain a low profile so that she wouldn't run into a watcher and in particular not into Joe. But in fact, Methos knew that this hope was in vain, taking in account Brianna's personality in general and her actual mood in particular, even before he felt the fresh Quickening inside her, when she came home from a nightly walk. Methos also knew that it would make Joe even more suspicious when he tried to hide Brianna from him. So he took her with him when he went for a beer at Joe's Blues Bar one of the next evenings. Brianna raised an eyebrow when she recognized Joe behind the counter. She let her gaze wander over the patrons of the bar, wondering how many of them were watchers. "Lion's den?" she said.
Methos grinned. "I thought you might be in the mood."
"Joe, I think you remember Brianna," Methos said when they reached the bartender.
"Sure," Joe said. How could he forget her, anyway? Brianna was barely looking at him.
"How's Michael?" Joe asked just when it crossed Methos' mind that it perhaps would have been better if he had talked to Joe before bringing Brianna to the bar.
"Dead," Brianna answered coldly, "Get I a beer?"
Methos shook slightly his head to indicate Joe not to go deeper into the subject. Joe put two beers in front of his immortal guests and then went away to take care of other patrons.
"Why are we here?" Brianna asked.
"Joe's smart and a good watcher. He would begin to dig deeper if he thinks we are hiding something."
"So the plan of the mastermind of the horsemen is to just put us in front of his nose, hoping he's short sighted? Brilliant," Brianna said sarcastically. "You must have gone mad when you revealed yourself to him. It took us a lot to make you a myth, remember? Why am I hanging out with you anyway?"
Methos smirked. "Because at the moment you're a pain in the ass and nobody else can stand you."
Brianna gave him a look that might have killed him – if he hadn't been immortal.
The following weeks, Methos tried to ignore Brianna's nightly forays. The Quickenings she was taking made her unsteady and tense and a difficult flatmate. Methos escaped to Joe. But the watcher just went to the core. "Brianna killed Eric LaSalle last night," Joe said.
Methos ignored him, drinking his beer.
"And Jim Yang the week before. And Sergey Ivanovic," Joe continued.
"I know. She's hunting," Methos said eventually.
"Are you not worried?"
"It doesn't matter whether I'm worried. It's her way of grieving. And I won't miss any of the guys she made a head shorter."
"I thought you were her friend, so perhaps you would miss at least her. She could lose her head if she goes on like this."
"I thought you don't like her," Methos answered, "And she won't lose. In this mood, Brianna is practically invincible. She banned everything out of her head except the hunting. Like this, she doesn't have to think about Michael."
Joe sighted. "I see. With friends like you, she has no other choice for coping with her grieve anyway."
Methos gave him a dirty look. But Joe was right, he had to stop her. But he knew that it would be painful.
Brianna was fastening her laced boots when he arrived at his apartment.
"So, who loses his head tonight?"
"Trying to catch up. Was out of the Game for a long time," she said, "Since when do you care, anyway?" Brianna answered, grabbing her sword.
"Since you are my friend. One of only a few left and I don't want to lose you, too. It's hard to find new ones nowadays."
"You're the one who is always saying that everybody dies, mortals and immortals. Haven't known that you became a sentimentalist in your old age."
"But I know exactly who you are at the moment," Methos replied sharply.
"It wasn't my idea to hide who I am," Brianna said in the same tone.
"And I also know you're always freaking out like this when you lose somebody. The only difference between now and the day when Conor died..."
"Don't you dare to mention Conor!" shouted Brianna.
"Then open this damn letter and let Michael go." Methos picked Michael's unopened letter from the wall and threw it to Brianna. "And spare us from further antics."
Brianna roared and raised her sword.
Methos regained life with a gasp. Swearing he convulsed in pain. "I hope, you feel better now," he hissed. He had known that it would be painful.
"It's not a farewell letter," she said.
Methos looked at Brianna, who was sitting next to him on the kitchen floor, the open envelope in her hand. Methos tried to hide his relief that she had finally opened this damned thing. "It's a new life." She gave him the paper. Methos sat up and glanced at it. It was a contract about a purchase of real estate. In Australia, he noticed after a closer look.
"I need something to drink," Methos said.
The next night, Methos woke up when somebody entered his sleeping room. Brianna tiptoed through the chamber and slipped under his blanket.
"Sorry, didn't want to wake you up, Trib," she said.
"If you're unarmed, you're welcome," Methos said and slide over a bit.
"I don't apologize, you were looking out to it."
Methos sighted. "And who pays for my bloody shirt? I probably have to talk to Joe about it."
"Why Joe?"
"He urged me to talk to you. He was worried about the hunting."
"He urged you? How did he do that?" Brianna grinned.
"He appealed to my conscience."
"Really? He must be a better friend of you than I thought. Not many people know that you have a conscience at all."
"Shall I throw you out of my bed?"
Brianna moved closer to him and cuddled him. "I won't tell anybody, promise."
They dropped in at Joe's Blues Bar the next evening. Brianna still felt a bit uncomfortable about the place since she had been trying to avoid the watchers for the last hundred years and she was convinced that watchers abounded in the bar. Nevertheless, this time she tried to make a friendly face and not to insult Joe right away. However, when they arrived at the bar Joe wasn't behind the counter but on the stage, performing.
Brianna listened a while Joe singing the blues and then turned to Methos.
"This man's emotional state is worse than mine. I think he sneaks too much around immortals and watchers. Must be depressing."
"Joe's okay. Just had a hard time lately."
"We should find him a woman. A mortal non-watcher woman," Brianna said.
Methos rolled his eyes. "What's up with you guys? You don't like each other but you're concerned about each other's state of mood?"
"He's your friend. You know the rule about friends."
"The rule is not to kill them - if possible. Not to make them happy."
"Then you should care about him more."
Methos raised defensively his hands. "I have to take care of you. That's already more than I can handle." He finished his beer and rose. "Let's go."
Brianna shook her head. "I stay for a while."
"Bree, he's my friend."
Brianna grinned. "I won't kill him, promise."
Methos sighed and left.
Brianna ordered another beer. She waited until the last guest had left and the crew was cleaning the place. She went to Joe who was grabbing his coat.
"Come on. I bring you home," Brianna said.
Joe looked at her with surprise. "I find my home by my own," he answered a bit sharper than intended.
"No doubts. But then I wouldn't have the opportunity to thank you."
"Thank me? For what?"
"For kicking Trib's ass that he kicks mine."
Joe grinned. He just couldn't figure out what was about this woman. And her relationship with Methos. "I think we're even then."
They left the bar and walked through the dark streets of Paris to Joe's apartment.
"I'm sorry. About Michael," he said cordial.
Brianna nodded. "Thanks."
When they arrived at Joe's place he asked her in for a drink, convinced that she would refuse. But surprisingly, she accepted.
While Joe was in the kitchen, Brianna was wandering in the small living room and glanced at the books on his shelves. An interesting range of historic books. And a lot about music. An old binder draw her attention and she reached for it.
When Joe came back from the kitchen Brianna was sitting on the couch thumbing through the Nemain chronicles. There were some bad habits she seemed to copy from Methos. "That's why you don't like me? This old piece of watcher trash?" she asked.
Joe sighed. There was no reason for not telling. He put the Whiskey bottle on the table and sat down next to Brianna. "At the academy, there is an assignment where every student has to do a research project about an immortal. Since it is only for training, you get an inactive immortal. The task is to study old chronicles and historical sources to find facts about the immortal's life which weren't already known."
"Your assignment was Nemain," Brianna guessed.
Joe nodded. "I was fascinated by this woman. Her life. She lived for more than a millennia. It's rare that a female immortal becomes so old. Studying her chronicles made her so real, even if she was already dead for almost five hundred years then. And I thought that it was a pity that she must have died."
"That I killed her," Brianna corrected.
Joe shrugged. "It's the Game. I'm a watcher. It's not up to me to judge." He poured Whiskey in the glasses and passed one to Brianna.
"Okay, let's talk about Nemain," Brianna said, taking a sip. "I killed her and sometimes, I regret it. She was pretty cool. Most of the time at least. She had sometimes problems to control herself. You know probably, Nemain used to be goddess of the frenzied havoc of war in Irish mythology. The name matching is not coincidentally. When she was in rage, she could behave like a maniac."
"That's why you killed her?" Joe asked.
"I killed her to protect a friend," Brianna answered.
"You have a lot in common," Joe said, "Both Irish women, having problems to control their temper."
"Yeah, I think, the world couldn't stand two of our kind anyway."
They were silent for a while, sipping their drinks.
"Why are you a watcher?" Brianna asked suddenly.
Joe cleared his throat. "Well, I saw how one of you revived and before I could do something, I was one."
"Yeah, but why are you still one? You know, you cannot really hide a lot when you're performing on stage. And it didn't seem to me that you're watcher life makes you pretty happy."
"Is that of your business?" Joe replied sharply.
"Not more than my hunting is yours," Brianna answered softly.
"Why are you here?" Joe asked.
"Because we have a lot in common." She turned towards him and placed her hand on his chest.
Joe had suddenly the feeling that he definitely had drunk too much alcohol. Brianna was close to him and her hand went deeper.
"Don't," he said, "I don't need your pity."
"This is not about pity," Brianna said, "This is about solitude. And I don't want to be alone tonight. And I think you neither." She kissed him and Joe gave in. This night, they weren't alone any more.
"Thought Joe needs a mortal non-watcher woman," Methos said when Brianna returned home the next morning.
"Still my opinion," Brianna replied.
"Does he know?"
Brianna shrugged. "As you said, he's smart and a good watcher. He'll find out."
Joe dreamt of Nemain and Brianna. The two women were fighting first, but suddenly they were dancing, moving closer until they were kissing each other. Their faces blurred, become one. Joe woke up. He was alone in his bed. Brianna was gone.
On the table in the living room were still lying the Nemain chronicles. I killed her to protect a friend, she had said. Joe wondered who this friend might have been. According to Brianna's chronicles, her teacher had already been dead at this time. Close relationships with other immortals where not documented in the file. But this could also just mean that Methos had been very successful in screwing up Brianna's chronicles. In fact, Methos was the only friend of Brianna Joe knew of. And apparently he was also the only link to Nemain. Had Nemain threatened to kill Methos? It was not unheard of that a student would challenge his teacher, but there was nothing in the chronicles that would support this assumption. He thought about his dream and then suddenly a suspicion flashed through his head. A suspicion, if true would be egregious. But it would also explain many things, such as the close friendship between Methos and Brianna. Protect a friend. There were many ways of protecting someone, and it didn't necessarily include killing someone. Sometimes, it was enough to change identity to allow a friend to become a myth.
Methos went alone to Joe's the next evening. He found the watcher in good mood. Methos didn't even try to hide his grin. Brianna had always known how to make a man happy. Joe put a beer in front of Methos. "This one is on the house," he said.
"Now I feel like a pimp," Methos said.
Joe made a face. "Must be a well-known feeling for you," he said, but he also grinned. Tonight, Methos couldn't offend him. Joe exactly knew that the last night wouldn't repeat. He knew what a one-night-stand was. He wasn't in love with Brianna, or whoever she was. Nevertheless, he felt content and happy tonight. And he had still a puzzle to resolve.
"Where's Brianna?" he asked.
"She'll come later," Methos said. "She wanted to pay her respect to Darius.
"Brianna knew Darius? Were they friends?" wondered Joe.
"Yeah, but I wouldn't exactly call them friends. They used to have some basic differences of opinion."
"What kinds of basic differences?" Joe asked curiously.
"Religious kind of. Mainly about the legitimacy of burning down churches."
"Oh I bet they disagreed on that."
Brianna arrived an hour later at the bar and greeted Joe with a kiss on his cheek.
"How are you today, Nemain?" Joe asked.
Brianna raised her head. "What about Nemain?" she said, smiling.
"I think you are Nemain. I think you and Methos made this story up about your death to protect Methos or you or both. Methos couldn't become a myth as long as his famous student Nemain was still alive. And nobody would hunt for Nemain, the student of the oldest immortal, if she's believed to be dead."
"You know, you are quite obsessed with this woman," Brianna replied.
"Maybe. But I know that I'm right at this. It explains also why you and Methos are so close, even after Nemain's death."
"Maybe," Brianna said, still smiling.
"Maybe?" Joe looked at Methos. "Come on, guys, admit it. I know I'm right."
"Maybe," Methos said, "But I wouldn't put this in any chronicles. Contrary to other people, Brianna has no problem to kill somebody she slept with," he added in a conspiratorial overtone.
"He's your friend. You know the rule. You have to kill him," Brianna said airily.
Joe was sure that this was not an empty threat even if it was said in a joking tone. However, he never had the intention to reveal to the watcher Methos' or now Nemain's identity anyway. He looked at his immortal guests who were drinking beer and quarrelling about the haircut of the singer who was performing at the moment. Together they had over seven thousand years of life experience. God help us all, Joe thought.
Later, back in Methos apartment, the two immortals were drinking a last beer.
"I'm ready now," Brianna said, "For thin air and monastery life at least. I leave tomorrow."
Methos breathed a sigh of relief. "Finally! Thanks to all gods you believe in."
The remark didn't make Brianna angry. Another sign that she was prepared to let her wounds heal. Even if it would take a long time.
"I'll miss you," Methos admitted, "We should do something together once again. It's time for Adam Pierson to die anyway."
"May I kill him?" Brianna asked eagerly.