Disclaimer: All I own are a few songs from Queen with which I created my own Soundtrack…that's all.

Thanks to: 66Witch, your question will be answered in this chapter! And I fear, there's only one more left…but I'm thinking about a follow-up, though I can't go into details here.

Litany Riddle…thanks for a review that made me choke on my Coke! Honestly, if I ever have sex in a shower, I'm gonna think of you + your advice…and I resist the temptation to ask wherefrom exactly you got this valuable knowledge LOLOLOL

Note: Damn, this chapter was a bitch to write!! You see, when I write a scene, I literally see it before my mind's eye…and this time some of the pictures were everything but nice. I did my best to create a memory horrible enough to give Methos nightmares, even after millennia.

So be warned, this chapter deserves the 'M' rating for cruelty.

-- 6. Truths --

Not wanting to rouse his sleeping lover, Methos decided to use his lock pick to open the apartment door. He hoped that if he worked fast enough, he could call an all-clear towards the bedroom that it was just him before the buzz would jolt the redhead out of his dreams in the most unpleasant way.

Methos knew from own experience that there was nothing better to ruin ones sleep than the sudden rush of adrenaline of an unidentified buzz that could possibly turn out to be a nasty head-hunter.

It took him indeed only seconds to pick the lock open, but his buzz was faster than he had anticipated.

"Sorry kid, it's just me, I've forgotten something."

The old man looked through the open bedroom door, absolutely convinced to see a drowsy but combat-ready redhead, with drawn sword and in a bad temper.

What he saw instead inside the dimly lit room was so different from what he had expected that he blinked and needed to look twice. Richie was lying motionless on his side, curled up in a ball with his back towards him and showed no reaction at all.

"Richie?"

"Go away."

The words were whispered so quietly he could barely hear them. But he could clearly see the slight shivers that had started running through the kid's body, although he obviously tried his best to suppress them.

Methos felt his hackles rising, this whole scenario was beyond weird.

Carefully he approached the unmoving figure on the bed and reached out towards his shoulder to turn him around, but Richie flinched from his touch and jumped up like a scalded cat.

"Don't touch me!!"

O.K, now he was slowly but surly getting irritated, no wonder, less than ten minutes ago the other immortal had clutched onto him for dear life and couldn't get enough contact, and now he was acting like a prude!

"What's on earth got into you?!"

Richie's shivering intensified to the point his teeth were almost chattering. To him, this was a nightmare come true. His pent-up emotions were getting completely out of hand; he knew that he was short of a breakdown and that his last strand of self-control was wearing thin, rapidly.

"Just leave me alone, Please!!" He begged once more, on the verge of tears.

"Not until I know what's wrong with you!"

That did it, Richie snapped.

"You want to know what's wrong with me?" he all but yelled.

"I'm not some insensately bastard who can sleep with someone and spend time with someone having fun together without feeling a thing! Blame it on my youth and lack of experience, but I just can't…no matter how hard I try - and believe me, I did try!"

He choked back a sob and continued somewhat calmer "I know myself that it's idiotic, that I should simply enjoy and settle for what we share, yet whenever you leave at night, I feel so…empty. And it grows worse, meanwhile it takes me the whole weekend to clamp the lid on these feelings, but I manage it. I'm really savouring and cherishing each moment that I'm with you; be it the mornings at Joe's bar or the nights in my bed, but…"

Richie swallowed, unknowingly embracing himself as if he was feeling cold and lowering his gaze with embarrassment "when you were so suddenly gone last Saturday, without a single word…it was pure hell. Though at least it made me realise the truth…"

Blue eyes shining with unshed tears he whispered "I love you."

Silence. Complete and absolute silence.

Methos took a deep breath, he could see that Richie was being serious, that he truly believed himself to be in love; whereas he was convinced that it was a mere infatuation, or maybe a sort of hero-worshiping of the 'oldest man alive'.

There was no way that he really loved him.

He figured it was the best for the young man to understand this himself as soon as possible so he could get over his crush; but he needed to be tender with him, for he didn't want the kid's feelings to get hurt even further.

Methos didn't allow himself to think about his own feelings right now, chose his words carefully and didn't even realize how bitter he sounded.

"Listen Richie…you know nothing of who I am, of who I was. How can you love me?"

"No human can ever know the other inside out, no matter how long they know each other."

The red head gave a sad smile,

"But if it's your past as a horseman that's bothering you – I already know about it."

Methos looked at him in disbelief, totally knocked off his feet.

"You remember the 'disagreement' between me and Mac a few days prior to Amanda's call, the one we both didn't wanted to talk about whether to you or Joe?"

Too aghast to speak, the ancient could only answer with a nod, hence Richie gave a brief summary of his talk with Mac, concluding with the words:

"The holy highlander thought it was necessary to warn me about you, that I'm no match for you – which of course is right, I have absolutely no doubt that you could easily take my head anytime you want, no matter if I'm on guard or not, and most probably Macs too. Honestly, even before I knew who you really are I never bought your 'rusty sword'-act, no one as paranoid as you risks getting out of shape."

Methos silently agreed, of course he would never slack in his training, being in good shape was a question of survival in the game.

He was, and not for the first time, amazed at the keen mind hidden deep inside the normally slightly naive acting young man. Richie's sense of pragmatism reminded him sometimes a bit of himself, yet he was still so young and full of dreams.

'Maybe that's why I'm so fascinated of him – he's like I used to be, way back, before…'

The memories he had struggled against these past days were creeping up on him again, the screams, the stench, it took all his willpower to fight them off.

Misreading his tense expression and silentness as rejection, Richie got desperate.

"I don't give a damn for your past; all I want is to play a role in your future, no matter how minor…please!" His heart clenched with fear. 'Don't abandon me…I couldn't bear it.'

Suddenly, he couldn't stand Methos gaze any longer and turned away. He leaned against the nearest wall, forehead scrapping over the plaster, and awaited the dreaded sound of his apartment door slamming behind a leaving for good Methos.

The tension of the situation, along with the stress of the last days, took its toll; Richie unconsciously started to bang his head against the wall.

He mumbled, more soliloquizing than actually talking to Methos "If I think about that, when you came back again, I vowed to myself to use every opportunity to be with you once more but not to beg for it, that I won't turn into a male slut for no one - and now I'm basically on my knees. So much about preserving my dignity. How pathetic." He snorted self-disgusted.

"And you know what the worst is? I don't care!!" Richie all but screamed the last part, and because he was still facing the wall he was totally unaware of the impact the words had on the other man.

Hearing the very words from his nightmare yelled at him aloud, Methos lost his internal battle and drowned in the painful memories.

Richie noticed that something was wrong as he heard a choked sound behind him.

Turning around, he saw that Methos was still standing in the same spot beside his bed, but his whole demeanour had changed drastically.

His gaze was totally unfocused; he was swaying, gasping, and even in the dim light from the streetlamps outside one could clearly see that he was as pale as a ghost.

The younger immortal had absolutely no idea what had triggered this behaviour and had gotten him into this stunned state, but he instantly forgot his own problems at the sight.

"Methos?" He carefully approached him, and after receiving no reaction, touched his shoulder to shake him slightly. "Say something, please. You're frightening me here."

The meaning of his words went unheard, but not the worry in his voice. Methos gaze became clearer and settled onto the redhead.

He saw in Richie's eyes and found genuine concern shining in them, and deeper inside something like a warm glow. The same glow he had seen in his eyes for quite some time now whenever they had been together. Tonight after they had left the shower and had lain down side by side it had been especially strong.

Now, Methos finally allowed himself to see and recognise the meaning of this look:

Richie did love him.

With his emotional barriers still down he was unable to deny any longer that he deep inside yearned for someone to love him, but not the mask he hid behind, or the legend he was supposed to be or the myth people had made of him, just plain and simple him.

'Could it be…?' he thought, wondered 'could Richie be…?'

A hand softly caressing his cheek jolted Methos out of his thoughts just as he was about to try to explain them to Richie.

That was when it happened: something, maybe the tenderness of this touch, maybe the whole situation, caused a gigantic flashback that hit him with the force of a mental demolition ball.

The shock nearly brought him to his knees; with a strangled outcry he grabbed for Richie, clung to him, for physical support as well as for emotional.

The surprised redhead reacted purely instinctive and half dragged, half shoved Methos back towards his bed before they both would crash onto the floor.

He could hear his friend sobbing words in a language he himself couldn't even identify let alone understand, but he began to understand what was going on; it wasn't the first time he saw an older immortal trapped in some horrible memory.

Richie knew from experience that there was nothing he could do but wait and see.

With Methos still clutching onto him for dear life, he ended up sitting with him astride in his lap in a tight hug, gently stroking his back to calm him down and whispering what he hoped were soothing words.

"Everything's gonna be alright. You're not alone. I'm with you."

Simple words of comfort, the same every child had heard from his mother since the dawn of mankind, and they worked, the convulsive sobbing slowly ceased.

The first thing Methos was aware of when he came back to his mind was that he was being held in a tender embrace with his head lying on Richie's shoulder.

The whole position he was in should have felt awkward, but instead felt strangely good and…right. A surprisingly big part of him was simply glad for once not to be forced to be strong but to be the one taken care of.

With a start he realised that he trusted Richie enough to just relax and lean onto him without the slightest bit of suspicion.

'I haven't felt that way around another immortal since…' he closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. Maybe it was time to finally tell this story to someone, if only because the younger deserved an explanation.

"I can't even remember her face, let alone her name, but I do remember the love shining in her eyes when she looked at me and how good it felt to hold her in my arms. By the time we met we both had already buried and bemoaned a couple of mortal loved ones and were overjoyed to have found someone that won't die on us. We were naïve enough to believe that nothing and no one could ever tear us apart…

Flashback

He had come out of the desert, a nameless stranger who owned nothing but the raddled clothes he wore and a pitted dagger. Like every foreigner he was brought to the temple, to let the high priest decide if he was allowed to stay.

He had answered the man's questions truthfully (well, as truthfully as he could as an immortal), that he was a scribe and a fighter, and was, after swearing an oath to help defending the oasis against enemies if necessary, accepted.

It turned out that the merchants had been in dire need of someone to translate between them and passing by caravans, so his language skills were most welcome.

Soon he was a respected citizen and thus allowed to go inside the temple with the others to worship the sun goddess, sacred patroness of the town.

That was where he first met her.

She was the holy maiden of the temple, beloved by all, people believed her to be the daughter of the sun itself for she was just as unfading.

Of course she was an immortal, but she didn't know it, even she herself thought that her eternal youth was a gift from her celestial mother.

When she felt his buzz for the first time she was stunned, yet quick-thinking enough not to let on anything but to seek him out and question him in private.

His answers shocked her to her core though she couldn't deny the facts, wherefrom else should he have known that she was a foundling, or about the little sparks flickering in her wounds right before they healed? Seeing a wound in his flesh healing in just the same manner erased her last doubts.

He became her secret friend and confidant, the only one she could talk about the downside of immortality with, for no mortal could really understand how hard it was to outlive everyone around…and one of these days they fell in love.

It was a disaster; she was supposed to be devoted to the temple and stay pure and chaste.

For her to marry and live a life of her own was unthinkable, but with the typical arrogance of century-children they were sure to find a way. Maybe he could be declared as offspring of a god too, being immortal just like her?

In their minds, everything seemed to be possible, after all they were old enough to know more than every mortal around them…. but alas still way too young to realise of how little worth that was.

However, before they could come up with a solution, they were caught in a lovers embrace.

He was put in chains instantly.

Her attempts to explain matters to the high priest by showing of his healing ability only added insult to injury.

End of Flashback

"They now thought that I was some kind of demon who had bewitched and tainted her and that she needed to be purified to become herself again.

As daughter of the sun goddess she was to be cleansed of her sins through her mother's element…fire. So they chained her to the stone pillar of the grand sundial in front of the temple, piled dry firewood up to her knees and lit the stack. The high priest tried one last time to make her see the error of her ways, but she refused adamantly. Her last intelligible words were 'I don't care, I love him'…after that…only screams…" Methos voice died away, he was momentarily unable to continue.

Richie held his fitfully breathing form tightly, his own face wet from tears, too.

After a while, the older continued his tale with a constrained voice.

"I don't know how long it took her to finally die; her screams seemed to go on endlessly. In the end all that was left of her was a vaguely human-shaped piece of charcoaled flesh.

Some bones were burst due to the heat, their fragments sticking out.

Even I doubted for a moment if an immortal could survive injuries that severe, but then the first sparks of her healing Quickening started to flicker over the black mass.

Slowly, very slowly coal became flesh again.

Seeing this frightened her people even more, not the healing itself, but the sparks. They had only seen her body heal little cuts and bruises but never a really deep flesh wound so they didn't know and recognise the sparks as a part of her healing ability.

On the other hand they had clubbed and beat me various times while they had made me watch her suffer and seen these sparks in my flesh, now seeing it on her too seemed to be a sure sign of her being possessed by me.

The first 'failure' to purify her with fire didn't change their conviction, by the time she came back, still with third-degree burnings all over and screaming in agony, they had already pilled more wood around her and were fanning the flames again."

At this point of his story Methos voice broke, it was clear that the memory of this horrible day had never ceased to torment him. He resumed his story with a noticeably anguished tone.

"I begged and pleaded for them to stop, but they just didn't listen. They stoked up the fire again and again, each time it took her weakening Quickening longer to bring her back which only served these fanatics as a proof that their sick plan was working and my power over her was diminishing. I was really racking my brains, desperately trying to find a way out, but there was none…only her never-ending screams of pain and agony. There was only one thing left I could do for her, only one way to end this nightmare."

Richie closed his eyes, he knew what was coming. Methos voice grew low.

"I told the high priest that in order to break my spell over her they needed to behead her.

At first he was suspicious, but I guess the utter desperation in my voice and face convinced him that I had really surrendered. Her unleashed Quickening got the people running for cover, scared to death, and broke my chains. I took the first camel I found, loaded it with waterskins and headed back into the desert. And I vowed to myself nevermore to get closely involved with another immortal. I never wanted to get hurt that much again…"

He sat up slowly and looked at Richie.

"Last Saturday I ran off because I was scared…for when I saw you with this waitress… I suddenly felt jealous."

The young mans eyes grew wide. "You mean you…?" He didn't even dare to say it out aloud.

Methos only shrugged somewhat embarrassed, but that was all the answer Richie needed. He had to fight back a face-splitting grin and kissed him. Then he yawned "How about we call it a day and get some sleep? We can talk about everything else tomorrow…maybe you could stay the night, just this once?"

The last request came out very shy and hesitant; the redhead was unsure and anxious how his lover would react, but Methos simply shrugged once more. "O.k. kid, why not?"

He disentangled from their embrace, stripped and crawled under the covers beside the younger.

This time, as Richie tried to snuggle up, he wasn't pushed away but drawn nearer.