Having a plan and executing it were two different things. If Methos could've picked up and left at a moment's notice he could've resumed his usual globetrotting ways and traveled halfway around the world to cut MacLeod off at the pass and let him think it was a chance meeting of two Immortals. If it had just been him, the way it usually was, the way he preferred it whenever he didn't give in to an impulse to marry some nice mortal woman and settle down for 20 years before picking up and taking off again. But that wasn't in the cards for him this time. Now fate was intervening and he had to resume the role of a responsible adult, something he periodically resented but knew at the moment that it couldn't be helped.
The damage that had accrued following Rita's attack had began relatively confined, as often most rapes begin, limited only to the victim's own mind and wellbeing, then it grew, and spread, and seeped out, and it latched onto everyone around her and was continuing to fester and grow and spread. As the days passed she gradually became more vocal, though nowhere to the point of her usual self, but also as the days passed, something happened that suddenly she began establishing a 'safe' distance to put between she and Kronos whenever he entered the room. None of them could figure it out, but suddenly Rita couldn't tolerate being within so many feet of him, and it only got worse. After the first week she reached a point where she not only couldn't stand being in the same room with him whatsoever, but she moved some of her things out of their bedroom and into a spare room down the hall and secluded herself in it until she was sure Kronos had gone downstairs. Only once she was certain he was gone would she emerge from it, and while he tried to remain civil and talk to her, she wouldn't talk to him, and she let no one into the room except for Methos, forcing him into the reluctant role of mediator.
One morning Methos was explaining the current situation to Caspian and told his brother, "As long as things carry on like this, I can't leave these two alone, there's no telling what would happen, and right now for some reason I'm the only person Rita is willing to talk to, I can't take off with her in this present state."
"And that's a problem," Caspian commented in a dry cynical manner.
"And that brings me to my next point," Methos looked at him.
Caspian's eyes turned to look towards Methos before he turned his head, like a vampire. He slowly turned and looked at his brother and asked him, already with the feeling he knew where this conversation was going, "Which is?"
"I can handle Rita for the time being, but I need somebody around here to keep an eye on Kronos as well," Methos explained, "You know he's two steps away from falling to pieces because of this. Is there any way you and Silas can stay on here and help me with these people?"
Caspian looked at him with an unreadable expression on his face and seemed to consider the question for a few seconds, before finally answering neutrally, "Yeah, sure, why not?" He sounded like a guy putting as much convincement into saying he was looking forward to a root canal.
"Well I appreciate it," Methos said, "And I think this might help me figure out my plan for MacLeod."
"That'll be news," Caspian told him, "I haven't heard a damn word about this plan yet, what've you got in mind?"
"You know the saying revenge is a dish best served cold?"
"So?"
Methos looked at him and asked, "You ever spend much time in a kitchen?"
Caspian responded with a look that was either meant to say 'get on with it' or 'I'm going to beat you to death', or maybe both.
"Well cold only really gives off a true effect when it's in contrast to extreme heat, you've seen what happens when you leave a frying pan on the burner too long, then throw cold water in it. That's what I want to do with MacLeod, and I want to make sure he never sees it coming."
Caspian looked at Methos and observed, "And yet something still seems to be bothering you, what?"
Methos shook his head, "It just doesn't make any sense, Duncan MacLeod is the last person anyone would ever suspect of raping anyone."
"Isn't that the point?" Caspian returned, "They usually are."
"I know," Methos replied, "But it doesn't make sense, and it doesn't gel with what Rita said about there being two other Immortals, MacLeod believes in the Prize, and seems to think he's entitled to win it, he doesn't make a habit of traveling with a pack."
"Well he's not exactly a monk either, is he?" Caspian pointed out.
"No," Methos answered, "Currently there's one former student that keeps his company on occasion."
"Well?"
Methos knew what the question was, and though Caspian had a point, rare though it was, Methos shook his head, "This student will be lucky if he lives 5 years as damn naïve as he is, no way in hell he could be a co-conspirator in this. Anyway that'd still leave the matter of a third party, we know Connor wasn't there, Darius is dead."
"What does Darius have to do with anything?" Caspian wanted to know.
Methos looked at him and answered simply, "They were friends."
"Dumb," Caspian shook his head, "I told you when he took that Quickening that nothing good would come of it, and what's he do? Gets his head cut off, by mortals of all people."
"I know," Methos replied, "This is almost…", but he tried to dismiss that thought as quickly as it came to him.
"What?" Caspian asked him, "It's what?"
"I was going to say," Methos answered, "This almost seems like something Horton would be capable of."
Caspian chewed on that idea for a minute and asked Methos, "He's dead too, isn't he?"
"Supposed to be," Methos said, "But for a mortal he had a good track record of being invincible." He wrung his hands as he contemplated, "Would almost be worth it to get the grave exhumed, make sure…but Rita said they were all Immortals, so that eliminates Horton too."
"Hell of a day when being dead isn't alibi enough," Caspian noted.
Methos balled one hand up into a fist and started hitting himself on the side of his head, "I can't figure this out, Caspian, I can't figure out what happened, why it happened, how this could be possible, I can't figure out how this MacLeod fellow can be so far off the Watcher's mark, they're supposed to watch him like a hawk, they have for hundreds of years."
"Well they've got to sleep sometime," Caspian said, "Who knows what he really does when there aren't eyes on him?"
Methos looked at him and told him, "That would imply that MacLeod knew where they were, that he has known a hell of a lot longer than just the past two years."
"That's assuming those 'friends' of yours are always so truthful when you talk to them," Caspian reminded him, "Exactly how do you know you can trust them?"
Methos answered point blank, "I know more about the Watchers than the Watchers know about the Watchers, them I can trust because they're so ignorant."
"So," Caspian said to him, "Now what?"
Days were hard, nights were harder. Being winter, that was always a given since night lasted so much longer already but now the nights were excruciating. Methos was generally the last one to go to bed, even when he did, he seldom slept, often he just lay awake in his bed and stare up at the ceiling, hearing only the sounds of his own breathing, still he kept an ear out for any sounds coming from the rooms on either side of his. Through the looking glass, that's what it was like, Kronos on one side of the hall, Rita on the other, and Methos knew neither of them were getting any sleep either. He didn't know how he knew, he just knew that right now Kronos was in the exact same position he was, laying in bed, staring up into the pitch blackness of the night, wondering what the hell had gone wrong?, and where to from here? And he knew Rita also stared off into the inky blackness, trying to ward off sleep, ward off the nightmares, the memories, trying not to think, but at the same time wracking her brain trying to remember something additional about her attackers that would help them find out who and where they were. He really worried about that woman.
12 years ago when they found out Kronos had gotten married, and they'd first had a chance to meet Rita, the general consensus was that their brother had finally lost his mind and married himself a damn trophy wife. Of course that was an exaggeration and a pale contrast to the sorts of women who actually gave the title meaning, but for the lives of all of them they couldn't figure out what it was that had attracted Kronos to this woman. Nothing, except for the fact that she was Immortal and practically his for the molding as he'd found her shortly before her first death and had trained her after. In spite of this, it seemed obvious that if she had been on her own, she would be an easy kill; now it's true most Immortals don't enter the Game with a predisposition to killing, and most never reach a point where they would consider it enjoyable, but Rita had no stomach for blood or any sort of killing, she couldn't even stand the sight of mauled animals they occasionally found in the yard. At least that seemed to be the case until the first fight they all found themselves plunged into.
Headhunters, rogue Immortals, just plain crazies whose sanity rotted away either from age or too many drugs or too many fights or all of the above, challenges were seldom ever as simple as the Watchers thought. The only thing you could ever be certain of was uncertainty, and you could almost always count on someone who didn't give a damn about the rules, especially the one about 'one on one' fighting. What had started out as a trip to Paris to bid farewell to a fallen comrade had turned into a fight for all their lives when they were ambushed by a pack of Immortals who looked like they belonged in a Mad Max movie. Eight against five ordinarily might not be so worrisome, but given the fact that these Immortals, whoever they had been, disregarded even the rule about holy ground, a rule even the Horsemen had never felt a need to press their luck on, that was when they knew they had trouble. So in order, the priorities had been: 1. stay alive, 2. get off holy ground before the fighting got serious, and 3. kill.
Reaching the outside of the cemetery might as well have been trying to run the gauntlet in a patch of quicksand, the gates were a good 300 yards away from where they'd come to pay their respects to an old friend, they were outnumbered inside, and there was no telling yet if there were more waiting on the outskirts for them. Methos cut across the tombs and thought they were going to make it unscathed, then he heard the fatal sound of somebody tripping and hitting the ground. He turned back and saw Rita sprawled on the ground, and just as she rolled over to get to her feet, a strange Immortal woman with an animalistic strength jumped on her and pulled a short sword on her and tried to take her head. The two women wrestled on the ground as Rita struggled to stay just out of the blade's reach, as she reached into the belt of her black dress and pulled out a small surgical knife and reaching up, plunged it into the other woman's chest. The other woman let out a screeching howl like a wounded animal and rolled off of Rita, giving her the opportunity to get to her feet and run.
Methos had just about gone back to help her, but before he had the chance he got his own hands full with another member of the Immortal goon squad, a large man who died somewhere in his late 20s who had the endurance of a nut job on PCP. Holy ground or no holy ground, the other Immortal had his sword drawn and came dangerously close to taking Methos' head before he even saw what was going on. Methos threw himself back and landed on the ground, just missing the blade of the other guy's sword. He drew his own Ivanhoe out of his coat and got to his feet and decided to meet the challenge head on, he was always leery about fighting on holy ground but this time he knew he didn't have a choice. The two Immortals locked blades and seemed evenly matched, but Methos knew that wouldn't last for long, and he was suddenly starting to contemplate what the worst case scenario would be if he did take a head on holy ground.
Luckily, fate intervened in the form of a wiry Immortal woman. Rita stumbled again as she was running and fell down beside an old tombstone that was worn and falling apart. One of the pieces lay on the ground within her reach, roughly the size of a brick. She picked it up in one hand and charged at the other Immortal and hit him in the head with it. It only stunned him for a second so she beat him with it again, and again, Methos heard the skull fracture into pieces, the blood spewed out of his wounds, he wasn't dead, despite the damage he was merely stunned for a few seconds, but it was enough for both other Immortals to run.
"Get over here!" Kronos called to them from the wrought iron gate, who from where he stood, thought his brother and his wife were merely roughhousing with the other Immortals.
Methos and Rita ran towards the gate and Methos grabbed Rita by her hips and gave her a boost up so Kronos could grab her and pull her over, then he climbed the bars beside her and jumped over the top.
Now the gloves came off.
The other Immortals, whoever they were, whatever they were, were definitely psychotic and murderous but also clearly nowhere near as old or as experienced as the Horsemen. Silas's preferred weapon of choice was always an axe, however that hadn't been an option this time, so for the trip he'd improvised by bringing a machete with him, it was no axe but not a bad second, he was able to cut through the fancy swordplay and quickly decapitated two of the Immortals, the woman and the large man Rita had assaulted, making the fight far more even. Kronos made short work of another one, he'd taken the courtesy to throw a knife into the man's heart to take him off guard and then nonchalantly lopped off his head. Caspian couldn't resist having a little fun with two of the others and opted for a slower death, cutting their heads off after using his knife to partially disembowel them. Methos was met with two others and decided to take a cue from Greek mythology and in the tradition of Meleager, cut off both of their heads with one swing of his Ivanhoe. That left one, and Rita had him.
Up to this time Methos had never seen Rita fight, he hadn't even been convinced she knew how, and it didn't look like she was having much luck now either. The man she was fighting with didn't look like he was trying to take her head, instead it looked like the two of them were engaged in a wrestling fight to the death, he kept throwing her off of him, she reacted by throwing him down or throwing him off of her. After a couple more body checks, the man took his sword out of his coat and swung at her, Rita dropped down on one foot and one knee, pulled another knife out of the folds of her funeral dress and plunged it low into his abdomen, bringing him to his knees, and as he did, she rose to her feet with a short sword, grabbed him by the hair with her free hand, and slit his throat 360 degrees, it only required a little more effort to actually sever his head from his neck.
If eight Immortals against five in a fight was unbelievable, eight Quickenings being absorbed by five Immortals was even more mind blowing. By the time everything died down, it was a wonder the cemetery was even still standing. For four men over 5000 years old, what had just happened was a bit unusual but nothing particularly out of their league, but Methos couldn't help wondering how Rita was going to react to what had just happened. They found her knocked flat on the ground, almost unconscious from taking in that much energy, but she got to her feet and seemed to be fine. She looked around at what had just happened, what they had just done, what she had just done, and lasted about ten seconds before she fell to her knees and threw up. As far as Methos knew, it had been her first experience in actual combat, and if so, she did very well for herself, he was surprised. So apparently Kronos had taught her how to win and survive.
And yet despite this knowledge, Methos had still had a premonition that something bad would happen to Rita when she stormed out of the house that night. He couldn't explain it, but he knew as soon as she left that it was a mistake. He knew he should've gone after her, but he didn't, instead he listened to Kronos, something he damn well should've known better than to do after so many thousands of years. Methos knew that was only one of the many things in this whole mess keeping him up at night.
"Not this again," Caspian complained the next morning as he found Methos at the dining room table writing in a large and aged book, "Not the phony journals again."
"Why not?" Methos asked.
"Because you've already done 50 of them over the last 800 years," Caspian answered.
"So?" Methos replied nonchalantly.
"So what's the point of them?" Caspian asked.
Methos quit writing and looked up at his brother and answered, "A lot of people get it in their heads that a 5,000 year old man might have a use for writing down the events of his life, they believe it, MacLeod's likely to believe it, curiosity might push him to even read some of it…he can read 100 years' worth of lies, and he'll never know the difference, he'll think he's getting some insight to the man turned myth."
"It's a waste of time," Caspian responded.
Methos put down his pen again and looked up at Caspian again with a not fond expression on his face, and very dryly he restrained himself and said, "Caspian, you are my brother and for that reason alone I am obligated to love you."
"Don't get disgusting now," Caspian told him.
"But," Methos continued, "You show a stunning lack of imagination."
"I never had a use for it," he replied.
"Caspian," Methos explained, "If this is going to work, if MacLeod's going to buy into it, if I'm going to lure him in, every detail is going to have to be perfect."
"And exactly how is it you're planning to fix it that you two just by chance run into each other?" his brother asked him.
"That's the part I'm having trouble with," Methos confessed, "One idea I had was to see if I could get Don Salzer to go along with a gag and be the mediator who points MacLeod my way."
"Who?"
Methos glared back at Caspian and answered, "A friend of mine."
"You mean another one of those Watchers," Caspian said.
"Yes," Methos answered simply, "MacLeod knows the Watchers exist, why not use it to our advantage?"
"I still say it'd be easier to just take his head," Caspian said.
"It would be, but it wouldn't be near as satisfactory," Methos said.
They heard footsteps on the stairs and a moment later Silas entered the dining room carrying a tray with a full plate still on it.
"What happened?" Methos asked.
Silas shook his head, "Won't eat, she wouldn't even open the door."
Methos inhaled loudly and said, more to himself than the others, "I wonder what's going through her mind right now?"
"We can all guess what's going through her mind," Caspian noted.
"I don't know," Methos shook his head, "I don't think that Rita has any illusions about the men who attacked her coming back. That's not why she's barricaded herself in that room. The thing she seems to be terrified of right now, is Kronos." Something occurred to him and he asked his brothers, "Where is he anyway?"
"He went out a couple hours ago," Silas answered, and told Methos, "I think the elephant in the room is making the walls start to close in around here."
"Rita's not going to have any peace of mind until she confronts MacLeod and identifies him as her rapist," Methos said, "I've got to figure out how to make this work and quick."
"I still say we'd all save a lot of time and trouble if we just went after MacLeod, disemboweled him, and brought him back here," Caspian told him.
Methos' only response on the spot was, "And you wonder why you're still single."
"You know where he is," Caspian pointed out.
"I do."
"You know where he goes."
"I do," Methos replied.
"You know how he works."
"I do," Methos said.
"So what's the problem?" Caspian asked.
"It's still too fresh," Methos said, "MacLeod knew Rita was Immortal, he might even be smart enough to figure out she'd be married to an Immortal, a new Immortal pops up on the scene he might start to get suspicious, if however I let him find me, he would never suspect I arranged it that way." He leaned back in his chair and told the others, "But there's still something about all this that bothers me."
"What now?"
"When we found Rita, her clothes were gone, everything she was carrying on her at the time was gone, we never found any of it. Now we've figured that she was just dumped where we found her and she was attacked somewhere else, but the question is did they take everything with them, or did they dump it all somewhere?"
"What difference does it make?" Caspian asked.
"Maybe none," Methos answered, "But I can't stop thinking about it." He looked at Caspian and told him, "You know there's been a garbage strike the last couple weeks."
"So what?" Caspian asked.
"Silas," Methos got up from the table, "Can you keep an eye on things around here until we get back?"
The larger man looked mildly confused by the question but nodded and answered, "Sure, Methos."
Methos grabbed Caspian by the arm and pulled him towards the door and told him, "We're going to go see if we can find anything. Maybe we can get an idea where it happened, and if so, maybe we'll find something more to go on from there."