She parked her car a block away from McLeod's flat and started walking. Her pace wasn't brisk; actually it resembled a Sunday stroll. She used the time she needed to get to McLeod's apartment to clear her head. Her visit to Joe's had helped build up her confidence once again, at least to a certain degree. But reaching normalcy seemed a goal as unattainable as working through all those things she had learned about Methos' past tonight. On top of everything the conversation that awaited her at Duncan's flat would not contribute to setting her mind at ease. Especially not if that Cassandra person was still so dead set on having her revenge.
In her mind Liz tried to work out some guide lines she intended to follow during their talk. She wanted to get through her face-off with the immortal tag team, consisting of McLeod and Cassandra, unscathed. She had always been big fan of Machiavelli's book "Il Principe", a treatise on how to gain and keep power by being cunning. Even though it had been years since she last read the book, its ideas were so appealing they still were fresh in her mind. So the first rule she came up with went like this:
1. Don't reveal your true intentions.
That idea made her smirk to herself. She wouldn't have any trouble with that one, since she was still having a hard time figuring out what her intentions were herself. At any rate she wanted to protect Methos and keep him out of harm's way.
She continued her mental list:
2. Don't let the others provoke you. Whoever gets angry first loses.
3. If you can, stay quiet and listen, don't talk too much.
4. Appeal to McLeod's sense of friendship and loyalty.
5. You're a woman. Duncan likes to play the knight in shining armour. Try to work that in your favour.
Her mind churned to a halt at number five. Her eyes widened as she realized her index finger was already insistently pressing down the lift call button in a staccato rhythm. Without even noticing she had entered the apartment building. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. This day, or better night, was wearing her out. She needed to catch an eyeful pretty soon, but with the way things were going, sleep would elude her for a couple of more hours.
She entered the lift and the dotty old thing set into motion. Half the way up to McLeod's loft she sensed the presence of another Immortal. Liz squared her shoulders and mentally prepared for the talk ahead of her. So Duncan was home and probably not alone. It looked like she would soon make the acquaintance of that Cassandra chick. Two birds with one stone.
With a forceful upward shove she opened the grates of the lift and stepped outside. In order to avoid having a sword tip hovering in front of her nose in the next couple of seconds, she called out some words of greeting and reassurance. "Hey, Duncan, it's Liz! Keep your paws away from anything sharp and pointy, aye?"
As she let her eyes roam over her surroundings, she spotted Duncan and a lady friend in the living room area. Doubtlessly their feathers had been ruffled properly, considering the disconcerted looks on their faces. Duncan stepped in front of the woman, assuming the role of defender and alpha male straight away, but he visibly relaxed when he realized it was her.
"Liz?" he took a tentative step towards her. "Are you okay?"
She contemplated his words for a moment. "I've had better days...," she answered vaguely.
In the meantime he had yet again taken a step in her direction. His face showed a lot of preoccupation. Her well-being seemed to be important to him. Only now it occurred to her how loyal and well-meaning a person he truly was. But even those positive traits of character could be taken too far and good intentions could turn sour in the blink of an eye, she reminded herself forcefully.
"Have you heard...," he started asking, but she cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand.
"You throw sticks and stones at a pond, there are ripples. Of course I know, Duncan," she answered, throwing a curious glance at the woman standing behind McLeod. Her face reminded her of that of a lioness. The full mane of auburn hair she sported contributed to that impression. All together her outward appearance gave her a regal and ageless air. Liz couldn't help but be jealous of her poise. It seemed like it was innate, but if it was something one acquired along the way from a certain age upward, perhaps there was still hope for her.
Apparently their interest in each other was mutual, because the woman she presumed to be Cassandra soon came closer and seized her up. "Who is she Duncan?"
What a good question! As straight to the point as they came, keeping the essentials in eye sight. Liz was very curious to hear what Duncan would answer. Among the many possibilities he had at his disposal he chose the most telling and devastating one, at least from her perspective. His confession would inevitably set her up to a bad start with the woman in front of her. "She's Methos' girlfriend."
The woman's facial expression showed that she strongly disapproved of her choice in partners. It displayed a mixture of disgust and suspicion. Liz ignored the waves of animosity rolling in her direction. "Actually I don't like to be referred to as someone's girlfriend. I still have a name," she scolded McLeod, but then directed her attention towards the other woman, after all she was her prime concern. "It's Elizabeth, by the way. May I ask yours? I didn't get it before." Usually she would offer people to call her Liz, but with McLeod's lady friend here it didn't strike her as appropriate. It seemed unlikely they would ever become something like friends.
The other woman's borderline hostile behaviour towards her confirmed that suspicion. With her arm crossed over her chest and her chin raised in a way that conveyed a certain superiority she stared at her the same way someone would stare at mucus living at the bottom of a pond. "I didn't give it before." Duncan would have been stupid not to sense the tension between the two women. The air was literally crackling. He stepped between them, breaking their eye contact that way. "Cassandra, she's a friend. I'm sure she didn't have the best of times today finding out Methos was one of the four Horsemen."
Liz nodded dutifully at McLeod's comment, taking note of a couple of things at once as she did. There was for one the fact that Duncan felt compelled to touch Cassandra's arm to reassure her which indicated a certain level of intimacy. It implied there was something more than friendship between the two of them. The other thing that occurred to her had something to do with the situation in general. She needed to convince the other two Immortals of her trustworthiness if she wanted to coax any information at all out of them.
Some tears would be most helpful at this point too, she reasoned as she sat down in one of Duncan's armchairs. With a gesture that conveyed an air of exhaustion and dejection she pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned back with a huff. It was not hard projecting those emotions because they had been the one reliable constant tonight. The eyes of her audience were on her. Time to say her lines.
"Listen, I really want no harm. I just came here to talk," she explained in a low voice, while she tried to conjure those tears that were essential to her performance. Liz purposefully stirred her thoughts in a direction she had avoided all night. She allowed them to wrap themselves around the possibility that Methos had lied to her and that this whole messy situation they found themselves in at present would end up a complete disaster. What she meant by disaster was the death of a Methos, McLeod or herself. She imagined the worst case scenario to be a combination of those three. She was not too worried about Cassandra by the way, because she was still glaring at her despite of her heart-warming display of vulnerability.
To her satisfaction her attempts at tearfulness were starting to pay off. In the meantime, her eyes had become quite watery and when McLeod laid a soothing hand on her shoulder, a couple of fake tears spilled out of them. "I just don't know what to believe anymore," she chocked out, having reached the height of her performance. "If I'm honest with myself, I can't say I haven't seen this coming. No one lives for that long without keeping some deep dark secret... I just thought it would be something less...," she dramatically wiped at her cheeks and eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled her nose, "... something less unforgivable."
Duncan petted her shoulder. "There, there," the gesture seemed to say. The expression on his face showed deep-felt and genuine concern. They had known each other for several months now. Those months had not always been a walk in the park, but despite that he had never seen her cry. The fact that she cried now probably inspired a certain level of preoccupation and sympathy which was precisely what she had been aiming at all along.
"Duncan, you think she's your friend. But we can't trust her. It's clear where her loyalties lie," Cassandra admonished McLeod. Her distrust seemed to be deeply rooted and spoke volumes about the depth of the scars her run-in with Methos had left all those centuries ago. She wondered what it had been he had done to her. Before she had the opportunity to ask her about it, Duncan spoke up in her defence.
"Look at her. She's obviously in pain. I'm not going to turn away a friend in need."
"Thank you," Liz said quietly, humbled by McLeod's gentle words. In fact they made her re-evaluate her position towards him. She made a silent vow to herself that she would do everything in her might to keep Duncan out of harm's way as well.
But Cassandra refused to be convinced by her tears. She directed her intense green eyes at her. "Are you even aware what kind of monster he is?" Her use of the present tense in that sentence didn't escape Liz. "He slaughtered my people. And as if that alone wasn't enough, he held me as a slave and killed me off each time I disobeyed."
Liz's mind congealed in shock at those words. She knew them to be true. Cassandra's tone of voice and the expression in her eyes didn't leave any room for doubt. More tears spilled out of Liz's eyes and this time even she had trouble telling whether they were genuine or fake. Perhaps a bit of both.
Slave - the word echoed in her ears and inevitably certain associations and ideas drifted to the surface of her mind. Keeping a woman as a slave meant having her service you in every possible way. Rape. A big and frightful word. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut tight as if to rid herself of those dark musings. That was not him anymore, she told herself forcefully. She tried to envision him doing something like that but couldn't. He would never force himself on someone.
The way they made love somewhat mirrored the way they interacted with each other. They both had down the art of teasing to a scratch, always testing each other's limits. She knew that he took pleasure in walking the unspoken, never explicit line, but he, all too aware of it, never crossed it and she loved him all the more for it. But maybe that was all an act. She thought she knew him, but did she really?
Then again no matter how much you think you know another person you can never quite guess what he or she is capable of. Come to think of it, she was not even sure she knew the extent of what she herself was capable of. Situations put people to the test. People adapt to them, in a way they mould themselves around them. And if they don't, if they can't deal with what fate has thrown in their way, they surrender and stop. Just stop. Dead end.
Her thoughts had reached a dead end as well. It was quite nonsensical going crazy over those questions. Only he could answer all of them. A hand waved before her line of vision. She blinked lazily. It touched her shoulder, applying soft pressure. She raised her head and met Duncan's concerned eyes.
"Hey," he said in a soft tone of voice.
"Hey," she replied keeping her voice just as low. Only now she noticed Cassandra's absence from her immediate line of vision. Looking around, she soon spotted her a few feet away, sitting on the couch. Her eyes were still watching her, ever disapproving. This time though she kept her disapproval to herself. Something had happened, something that must have escaped her while she was lost in thought. Perhaps Duncan had told her off.
"Have you talked to him?" she finally asked Duncan, wiping at the last remnants of tears with back of her hand forcefully.
"That's what I wanted to ask you as well," he answered walking over to the couch to sit down as well, putting a huge distance between himself and Cassandra. She was sitting on the right as far away from them as possible, while he was on the left, close enough to reach out and touch Liz's hand in a gesture of comfort if he wanted to.
She no longer needed to be comforted, however. She had already regained her composure. "Well, have you?" she insisted, looking at him expectantly.
Duncan smiled, a little of his exhaustion and weariness shining through in his facial expression. "No. I was going to when you walked in. I want to hear what he's got to say for himself."
At that Cassandra let out an unladylike scoff. "What do you expect? Don't be a fool, Duncan! More lies."
Duncan wanted to say something, judging from the expression on his face he was not too happy with Cassandra's remark, but she beat him to it. "I'm sorry for whatever he's done to you..."
She had wanted to say more, but immediately the other woman's eyes were upon her, sparkling with anger. "Don't dare apologize to me on his behalf! Nothing you say will ever be enough!"
Liz raised her hands in an appeasing gesture. "I know. And I can relate..."
"Relate?" Cassandra's shrill and angry voice resonated loudly in the apartment.
"Yes, I can," her tone was measured, controlled. It was fit to appease a frightened animal just as much as the angry woman in front of her. "In one of my past lives I was a courtesan. Men aren't always gentle. Some situations spin out of control when you're inexperienced." She threw the other woman a meaningful glance, willing her to get her point.
It seemed like she did. The angry frown on Cassandra's face retreated to a certain extent and left room for a tiny flicker of pensiveness and compassion. Perhaps they would never grow to like each other, but at least now there was an understanding between them.
Liz directed her gaze at Duncan trying to gauge his reaction. She could sense an apology coming on, though she wasn't sure what he wanted to apologize for. Was he sorry about what had happened to her or did he want to apologize on behalf of the entire male species? She just raised an eyebrow. "Don't be ridiculous, Duncan," she admonished him.
"I just wanted to...," he huffed in indignation.
Liz grinned. "Sure, sweet-cheeks. Just don't say it please! You saying you're sorry would make things awkward and this situation already is sufficiently awkward. We certainly don't need you to add to that."
"Alright," Duncan sighed, resigning himself to the fact that the softer more vulnerable side of his friend had come and disappeared just as quickly, making room for her usual snide and pragmatic self once more. "So do you want to talk to him first?"
She looked at him for a while and then answered his question with one final affirmative nod. "Let's head over to his place."
He had never given her a key to his apartment. It wasn't necessary. She always got in even without a key anyway. Usually she was quite cheeky about being able to do it every time, striding in through the door as if she owned the place. This time she didn't strut or swagger, she more or less crept in.
Her eyes roamed over the apartment taking in all those subtle, yet alarming changes that only a particularly observant person who was accustomed to the environment would notice. A forlorn coffee mug had been deserted on the sideboard among his vast book collection. Yesterday's newspaper was lying on the sofa, the different sections distributed in little heaps all over the cushioning. All those things were small exclamation marks that unsettled her because it showed that his life that usually followed a certain routine had been cast into disarray.
She took a tentative step towards the bedroom, but didn't get as far as the door. The Buzz swept over her, giving her a last pre-emptive warning of his presence before he breezed out of the room with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He froze. The bag slipped off his shoulder and landed on the floor with a thud. He followed its fall with his eyes and then quite inevitably his gaze settled on her. It seemed like the words "I can explain" would spill from his lips any second now.
A bitter smirk delineated on her face as she regarded him with her head slightly inclined to the right. "Running?" she stated the obvious.
He rubbed the back of his neck somewhat embarrassedly, then let his hand fall to his side. "Yes."
Again with the disconcerting signs of alarm. The lack of a sarcastic retort irritated her and simply screamed that something was wrong. To her it was about as unnerving as the sound of fingernails scratching on a blackboard. Before he said and did any more subtly irritating, out of character things she chose to take pre-emptive measures.
"What a fucked up situation!" she swore. She usually wasn't the type for profanities, but there was just no more adequate or elegant way to put it. Who knew? Maybe her cussing would cheer him up. He used to tease her that hearing her swear was about as out of character and disconcerting as the Queen being ecstatic with joy and sporting a football T-shirt. This time though his face remained stoic. No such luck.
"I can tell something is wrong, so talk to me," she implored. This was her waving the proverbial olive branch in his face.
He shook his head. Apparently he was too stupid seeing the olive branch even if she slapped him in the face with it. His reaction made her waver between feeling compassion for his situation and going crazy with rage. Just like she had been ever since she had found out something was wrong.
Apparently he wanted to say something, possibly lie to her, since he had already refused to tell her what was wrong. He took a deep breath, but before he got around to saying the first word, she silenced him with a loud "Shut up!" His mouth snapped shut and for the first time in their acquaintance he was at a loss for words, which was good because she wasn't.
"Now you listen." He opened his mouth, probably to sprout some stupid excuse for his packed bag. "Just listen!" Liz admonished him, waving her index finger in front of his face. "I know about Kronos. I've talked to Joe and McLeod and guess what, even to Cassandra." His eyes widened and darkened in anger at the mention of all of those names, because they inevitably made him realize that she had spied on him and went behind his back. "Don't give me that death glare, mister. You could have said something, but your lips were shut so tight I would have needed a crowbar to pry them open."
"That's still no excuse...," he started to hiss and advanced on her.
"Oh, hush, you stupid man!" she waved him off as if it was nothing and to both of their surprise he complied. She met his eyes, her shoulders squared, her jaw set tight. He was furious. The emotion was bubbling so close to the surface it didn't even need a lot of insight to detect it. She gingerly laid her hand on his shoulder which was so tense it almost felt like touching a statue.
"I'm still here, aren't I? Now put two and two together! What does it mean?" Her voice sounded a little gentler now.
"You're too stupid to do the smart thing and run?" he narrowed his eyes in disapproval. His attempts at ill-humour left her unaffected and unimpressed, so unimpressed in fact she swatted him across the chest with the back of her hand.
"No, it means I got your back, idiot."
His face showed genuine confusion. "Are you crazy?"
"Shut up!" she repeated simply.
"Don't tell me to shut up!" his voice was low and deceptively calm when he uttered those words, but there was a slight, very subtle undercurrent of tension in it which showed itself in the clipped and rushed way he pronounced the word "don't".
"You listen to me and listen very closely," she took a step closer to him. Her nostrils quivered a bit in agitation and her voice trembled ever so slightly. "I'm aware how serious this is. That Kronos fellow is trying to yank you around by the leash like some dog and you're trying to do what you've always been doing. You're trying to survive. I get that. And I'll help you if you ask me to. I'll try to understand if you decide to explain things to me."
"There is no time for explanations," he told her somewhat regretfully.
"I thought as much," she looked down. He was wearing heavy travelling boots. They were old and worn. The leather was scratched, so scratched that the original brown colour had made room to a shabby white at the tips of his shoes. She would have found that endearing had the circumstances been different. Her eyes connected with his again. He looked sad.
"Just answer me this. How far are you willing to go?" They both knew her words were not meant to be taken literal. What her question was referring to was to what extremes he was going to go to ensure his survival.
"I don't know," he said finally. "As far as I need to."
She hung her head. "I was afraid you were going to say that."
He let out a sound that was between huff and hum. Sort of a harrumph.
"I'll have your back for as long as I can. There is even a place I won't go. Not for you. Not for anyone."
"What does that mean?" he enquired. He was usually the one in their relationship who was all about cryptic words.
"Murder. Betrayal. Those sort of things..."
He nodded without saying a word. She sighed and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Her lips pressed firmly against his cheek, she took a deep breath to inhale his scent, his hands gently grasped her wrists, then the moment was over and she turned around and walked away without looking back. She walked outside the building, past McLeod's car in which she had come here. Duncan was still sitting behind the stirring wheel throwing her a questioning gaze. She shook her head. She didn't want to talk now. Liz shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans and walked on. Her feet were providing a regular rhythm. She hoped it would soon help to calm down the chaotic thoughts in her head.