Disclaimer: Not mine. I just play with them.

This is the first part of one chapter that came out too big, so I thought I split it up. Next part will be up in a few days, probably.


The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were cast upon the earth: and the third part of trees was burnt up, and all green grass was burnt up.

And the second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain burning with fire was cast into the sea: and the third part of the sea became blood;

And the third part of the creatures which were in the sea, and had life, died; and the third part of the ships were destroyed.

And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters;

And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.

And the fourth angel sounded, and the third part of the sun was smitten, and the third part of the moon, and the third part of the stars; so as the third part of them was darkened, and the day shone not for a third part of it, and the night likewise.

Revelation 8:07-8:12


He was drinking beer and listening to blues. Not at all surprising since he was in Joe's bar. Which in it self wasn't peculiar. The bar – whether it was in Paris or Seacouver didn't matter – had become a place he felt comfortable in. Despite the occasional immortal meeting. The bar, as it were, was half empty today. It was Tuesday after all. That means almost a week had gone by since Mac had gone off.

Methos, despite himself, smiled.

Maybe those had been the best news in these past years he had known the man. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, had finally gone past his name. His identity. Maybe now they would have a moment of peace. No more stupid immortals with a grudge, no more grand-immortal centres where ever the man settled down. No more danger in him staying with Joe.

Of course the Highlander could have been thoughtful enough to let his best friends – not him, he could find him no matter where he was if he was inclined to do so, and he wasn't – to know where he is. Especially Joe. But then the Highlander wasn't known for his thoughtfulness.

A child, a mere child, Methos thought. His thoughts would have continued down the same road if the alarm of a nearing immortal hadn't gone off in his head.

Amanda.

Methos smiled, while he continued sipping from his beer. She hadn't left yet. Still hoping that her gallant knight would send a word. If only that he is ok. His smile turned into a smirk. No chance in hell.

"Amada!" Joe exclaimed from his place behind the bar just as the door opened and the beautiful immortal walked in. "Didn't you feel her?" he then asked Methos. He had been watching him for sometime, wondering what the old man might be thinking and he hadn't looked up at the door, or in fact even tense. It was as if he wasn't an immortal.

"Of course he felt me." Amanda told him as she sat down next to the Old Guy. "Joe, what are you talking about?"

"He didn't tense, didn't look up, or indeed acknowledge your presence." Joe explained and then stared hard at him. Methos shrugged and smiled enigmatically.

"Oh, his up to his old ticks, I suspect." Amanda replied when it became obvious that he wouldn't. "Imagine that the first time I met him I thought he was a pre-immortal!"

"What?" Joe exclaimed just as Methos head shot up in protest. "Amanda!"

"What, dear? Duncan is no longer around so it doesn't matter if you tell him." She told him a most sweet voice.

Methos looked at her hard. There was only one thought that passed his mind in that moment and that could very well be summed up in a few words. 'Damn that infernal woman!'

"What does this have to do with Mac?" Joe asked perplexed.

"Listen, Joe," Methos said, hoping that in this manner he would be able to control the discussion for a bit. "what I will tell you is for no ones ears. Ok? You won't write a single word of it, understand?"

"Sure, Adam." Joe nodded, thinking how ironic it was calling the man in front of him that. The transformation had taken place in a few seconds, and there was nothing left from the calm, young man named Adam Pierson. In front of him Methos, the oldest immortal, stood, with no doubt, just as a while ago Adam was drinking his beer. He was always enchanted by this ability the man possessed. A true, living, breathing, human Chameleon.

"You know that all immortals have certain abilities – or maybe you don't." he corrected him self when he saw Joe looking at him stunned.

"Certain abilities?"

"Yes. Like Cassandra and her infernal Voice, or Sean with his understanding of the psyche, Amanda and her stealing. That sort of things." He explained.

"Thank you very much!" Amanda huffed from next to him, earning a smile from Joe.

"Hey! I meant that as a compliment." Methos protested.

"Clearly you ability isn't complimenting a lady." Joe told him, laughing. He earned a glare for his trouble. "Ok, ok. So what is your ability."

"His Quickening." Amanda said, clearly wanting to pay him back. If he was allowed to say something about her, then so would she. "He can manipulate his Quickening."

For a while a silence spread over the three friends. Joe, for he didn't know what to say, Amanda, for she had said all that she meant to and Methos trying to persuade himself that killing Amanda would do him no good. Joe would have figured it out sooner or later, no matter how abbreviated he told the tale.

"Manipulate your quickening? I've never heard of something like this happening before." Joe whispered.

"And chances are you won't hear it again." Amanda told him. "I think he is the only one able to do it. At least Rebecca was certain of it."

"She was right." Methos told them. "The only immortal I know with a similar ability is Cassandra. Though her power is manipulating another immortal's quickening. She can't control her own."

"So you can control your own."

"I can control any ones." Methos stunned them. Amanda could not help thinking just how much the Old Man was hiding from them, and just how much he was. Joe, on the other hand, was flabbergast and rightly so. If what he heard was true, and there was no reason why it shouldn't be, then...

"Why didn't you want Mac to know?" a sudden thought entered his mind.

"He wouldn't be able to understand it. He would start thinking that I am something that I am not and there is not point in that" Methos shrugged. "And he would want me to teach him."

"Wouldn't you?"

"I can't. He doesn't have the ability." Methos told him, going back to his drink, hoping that this conversation would stop right here and now. When he saw Joe looking at him – or at least trying to look as if he wasn't staring at him – he knew that the game was up. Damn Amanda again. "What, Joe?"

"Exactly what does it mean to control your quickening and another immortal's?" The watcher in him reeled for the information he would gather this night. Praised be Amanda, indeed.

"It means that I can conceal it, making it look powerless, subdued, like a new immortal, or indeed of a pre-immortal." Methos explained, though it was obvious it pained him to do so. But then again, he trusted Joe, if not with his head, then with his life – as long as he would wake up again – and Amanda already knew some of it. "It also means I can tell one quickening from the other, so that I can recognise any immortal that might enter my range. I can also affect them, change the layout of their quickening, something like the Voice, but I don't need to speak out for it to work. Once," he snorted to his spell bound audience "I even managed to make it visible. That was fun."

"Make it visible? That I have to see." Amanda whistled, hoping.

"Affect others?" Joe was warier and Methos could understand why.

"I rarely used it, Joe. I prefer manipulation through words and manners. I only use it for protection."

"I see." Joe was thoughtful. Then his eyes lit up and it was obvious he had thought of something else. Methos restrained the groan that threatened to leave his throat. "Exactly what is your range? And is it affected by you squashing it down?"

"You mean how far away I can feel an Immortal?" at Joes nod, Methos thought about it carefully. "Far enough."

"Now that isn't an answer." Amanda scolded him, interested herself on the answer. She did know a bit how it worked, but she had never really tried to find out.

"Lets see." Methos said a bit annoyed. "Imagine two immortals...Amanda and I can work finely." He said to Joe who was being very attentive. "Now draw a circle centred on each of us. Each of the circles is overlapping because we are standing so near. The oldest the immortal the wider the circle. This is the feeling range. When Amanda, not her circle but her body, enters my feeling range I can sense her, but she, as my range is far wider than hers, can't feel me, for I – that is my body – is not in her circle. When I step in it she will feel me."

"But shouldn't I be able to feel just how powerful you are?" Amanda asked the only thing that bothered her about this.

"No. Because I can subdue the effect my quickening has."

"But shouldn't this tamper with your range?" Joe wondered aloud.

"It doesn't." Methos told him, not really having a better explanation for it. "It's like, I don't know, imagine a computer simulation of the bar, all of the patrons in, just like now. I can, even with closed eyes" and he did close them seeing what he was describing in his mind, "see where Amanda is. Remove the building, remove all others, the are more like shadows and smoke, and all you get is this empty area where Amanda is displayed like lightening. I know when she moves away, or when see comes closer. I can see her." Methos opened his eyes and took another swallow from his beer. "Honestly that's is the only way I can describe what it is like, for me."

"And me." Amanda murmured. But she couldn't always feel what other immortals where doing, unless they were powerful.

"So, now that I understand how it is that you feel, you still have to tell how far you can feel."

"Come on Joe, this isn't some...fine, ok." He sighed, at the glare both the watcher and the immortal send him. After all, this was the reason why he hadn't reacted in Amanda's quickening, wasn't it?. "Since you think it so important. My circle has a diameter of about a kilometre."

"God!" Joe said after some quick calculation. "This is..." without finishing his sentence he left trying to find a calculator, while Amanda was looking at Methos with the most peculiar look of finally being certain about something. She probably was about to ask him something when Joe's whistle turned both the immortal's heads towards them. "That is 785,000 square meters! Bigger than the city of Paris!" after this everyone sat in contemplative silence, each lost to his or hers thoughts about what this revelation meant.

"So, Methos." Amanda spoke up after ten minutes. "Where have you been? After Ariman, I mean."

"Oh, here and there. There mostly." Was the answer, well practiced and delivered before, to Joe, who now snorted. Still it wasn't able to hide a cloud that crossed Methos face. Amanda then did something strange. She leaned towards him and whispered to his ear. "Mid hire?" (with her in old English)

Methos froze, just as Joe looked at them curiously.

"Ic don ne cnawan hwaet eow hneaw." He answered in the same language, his eyes a little bit wider than usual, his voice a little bit harder. "Anyway I have to go." He stood up abruptly, taking some notes from his pocket and leaving the bar without a further word. (I don't know what you mean in Old English)

The problem was he knew exactly what she meant.


1997

"He is dead." He intoned quite flatly. "Why is he dead?" this time his words were delivered in a roar. This time his words were for her.

"You asked for it." Came the calm reply.

"I asked for it!?" outrage was obvious from his voice. And his movements. And the many broken bottles lying on the wooden floor. And glasses. One shouldn't forget about the vases either. And damn, weren't they expensive. "I asked for it?" he asked again, too stunned to believe what he was hearing. "When?"

"Some weeks ago. Don't you remember? You cursed him for killing your student." He was getting very annoyed with the calmness that surrounded her.

"I did not!"

"Yes you did. Want me to tell you exactly what you said?"

"I...I didn't mean it, and you know it very well." He sighed, his legs giving away from under him. The floor was as good a place as any for him to sit anyway.

"Of course I do."

"Then why in bloody hell did you choose him?" shouting again. Maybe he would have to decide what tone to use with her. Not that it affected her.

"Some one had to." The cold logic. He hated the cold logic behind this. He used the same logic when it suited him of course, but that was another matter.

"He didn't. I could have. Some other could have. There are so many strong ones out there. Why MacLeod? He wasn't ready. He is not strong enough."

"He will be. He'll have to be if he wants to survive."

"But why him? Why Ritchie?"

"Ritchie was his student. How does the saying go? An eye for an eye?" she was smiling. She was having fun. He should hate her for it but found that he couldn't. After all, she was right. Under her logic, her laws. She was right.

"But Mac?" he knew the answer of course. But he simply had to hear it. One more time. Always one more time.

"He was near you. Too close perhaps. That could be a danger." Of course. A danger. To him. To her. She always looked after them, didn't she?

"He is a good man. He would never betray me." He tried to argue. It was hopeless he knew, but...maybe.

"Like he stood by you when Kronos came? Like when he told Joe, Amanda and even Ritchie who you were? Like when he threatened to kill you for fighting his battle?" that heart. As she knew it would.

"He was right. I had no right to fight off Kean. And I told Ritchie." He stammered.

"And he had nothing to do with it." She snorted. Of course he had. He knew it only too well "The man dares to judge you, to force you choose between people and you stay by him."

"That's what friends are for." He replied crisply.

"Of course. Until they stab you in the back for being who you are."

"Shut up! Just shut up! Leave me alone! It wasn't time for him to comeback anyway. Why did you have to rush things?"

"First you ask me to shut up, then to go away, and then to answer your questions." She sighed faking exasperation. "You should make up your mind."

"Just tell me why."

"Ahriman was getting stronger. It had to be done. You were not ready yet."

"I will never be." There was a hint of regret in his voice. Of unspeakable sadness and remorse.

"No. I don't think you'll ever be." She said sadly. She walked to him, and crouched next to him, holding his head in her chest, caressing his dark hair with her fingers. "A father should never be ready to kill his son."


"What did you tell him?" Joe asked Amada in wonder touching the money as if to see whether they were real. Methos never paid for his drink. And it was very peculiar of him to just get up and go, not even saying goodbye.

"Oh, Joe. Haven't you noticed how preoccupied his been the past two years? Since he killed Silas in fact." Amanda told him gently.

"You know about that?" Joe asked her surprised.

"I know about a lot of things. It's only now, though that I understand them. Let's go to your office. You might want to hear this, and we don't need to be overheard."

With no resistance at all, Joe moved to follow her to his office, pausing only to take two glasses and a scotch, as well as to tell one of his waitresses to watch out for the store, while he was occupied.

The office was small, cosy, with a laptop set among hundreds of papers, notes and bills, that it was a wonder how the blues man was always able to find what he was after, a couch, where he headed, setting the glasses on the low table before it, and an armchair, already occupied by Amanda. In this place they could be sure no one would overhear what they had to discuss.

"So. I am listening." Joe said, filling up the two glasses, taking hold of one, knowing instinctively that he would need it.

"There is no easy way to start this." Amanda sighed. "So I will start the same way Rebecca did, when she told me. Do you know why Methos is a legend?"

"You mean besides that he is the oldest one?" Joe snorted.

"He is not the Oldest one." Amanda told him. "He is the Eldest."

"What do you mean?"

"His myth, being the oldest immortal didn't begin after Darius beheaded that immortal that changed him. He was always thought of being the Eldest. The first born. Since his name became widely known around 500 BC, he was always thought to be the oldest. And when you hear him talking about his quickening and what he can do with it...can't you understand Joe? It's not Duncan the chosen one. Not he that should be the one."

"You say that Methos should be the one?" Joe asked baffled. "You say that you'd prefer the power of all immortals, the ability to rule over the world, to go to Methos? But he is...he only cares for him self!"

"Joe, you know that is not true." Amanda told him gently. In fact she had rarely used such gentle tones for as long as he knew her. "Duncan, for all his good heart, and you know that I do love him, would snap under the power that would be given to him. You see what happened with the Dark Quickening. He can't handle it. Methos on the other hand, already has."

"He has taken a Dark Quickening?" Joe asked aghast. "I should have known. That explains the Horsemen."

"No. No it doesn't. He took the Dark Quickening in 1794. I should know. I was there."

"And he didn't go bad?"

"He just absorbed it. Assimilated it. Took in the power, tasted it, and buried it deep down in him. You see Joe? There can't be only one."

"He is the One." Joe finished for her, only now realising the full implication this idea held.

fffff

Methos, after leaving the bar, wandered aimlessly in the town. He might have chosen a walk along the Seine, but he had the feeling he needed a change of scenery. His feet slowly took him towards the Louvre and Champ Elysses. He had always liked walking this street with its tall trees on each side, and the magnificent houses. Well, ok not always. But it had become a favourite since he had read Le Comte De Monte Cristo some time around 1850. The intrigues and murders and the revenge sought after, somehow appeased him.

He brought Amanda's words in his mind. How the hell could she have known? Or maybe she didn't? But then why ask him something like this in a dead language? And why did she care anyway? He sighed softly as he looked up the sky. Surprisingly there were no clouds, only the brilliant Moon caressed his face with silver rays, the stars hidden behind the lights of the city.

But back to the important question.

How the hell did Amanda know? Not just that he had been with her, but also that she existed. Hell, he could count the persons that knew of her and were still alive in the fingers of his one hand. And Amanda wasn't among the names.

It just didn't make any sense. Unless...unless Rebecca had told her student some things.

Methos sat down heavily on the first bench he found. It was possible, he supposed that Rebecca had told her student about the city and some of his earlier years. But he had her promise him she would never reveal who he was. He was certain that she would never betray him.

He sensed Amanda long before she came into view. He could have escaped her, but for some reason he wanted her there with him. He wanted to know how she knew. He nodded at her once, as she came and sat down next to him.

"Adam."

"Amanda." They sat in silence for a while.

He looked up the sky hoping he might get a glimpse of one of the thousands stars that dwelt up there. This was probably what he hated the most in this new era. These several past hundred years since mortals begun lighting the streets so much. There had always been stars up there to protect him. Like an eternal blanket of light and hope in the darkness of night. No night, not darkness, was with out any light, any hope. That was the stars for him. Always there to remind him that he would never outlive them.

"How did you know?" he asked speaking in Amanda's old language. First language.

"Rebecca told me." Her warm hand took hold of one of his own, inside the space of his coat pocket. He smiled gently as she caressed him. For all her faults – and he didn't think they were many – Amanda was a fine woman and even better an immortal. It would be pity if she was lost. But, then again she had survived a thousand years. And wasn't stupid enough to sell herself for the life of one mortal.

"She had promised never to tell any of you, who I am." Amanda was surprised to discern a bit of anger in his voice. So he didn't know all.

"She never told me that you were the Gatherer. She just told me the tale of the Gatherer. How did she name you?" Amanda paused for a moment tasting the different word. "Hades. One of the 12 Gods of Ancient Greece."

"She told you what it means?" asked Methos remembering rather fondly the name everyone had known him by while in the City.

"The Gatherer. I thought that was obvious."

"The Gatherer of the souls of the dead, Amanda." He watched her as she blanched a bit. "What? I usually found them after they had died, for the first time."

"And they called you that?"

"Why do you suppose I was Death while in the Horsemen?" he sighed. "Death, Thanatos, was the man who led the souls to Hades."

He never liked talking about those years. He did remember them fondly, his first 3000 thousand years – that he remembered of – but he didn't like talking of them with others. They rarely understood. They were so young. Arhon had. Or better he never judged him, just accepted all he did. Then again Arhon thought the Sun and the Moon of him. Darius had understood. Had been through almost the same thing. But he only realised the guilt and the pleasure of thinking of those years. The lure of the power.

Methos, on the other hand, had never felt guilty of committing all those things. Never ignored the lure of the power. But he had come to realise that power over the others was nothing over the power he had. The power that he was. And guilt, well, Rebecca had helped him rid of it. It wasn't even caused by those he killed, but of what he forced his brothers to become. The price he had to pay to remember to love and care again.

"Yes. There is that." Amanda agreed unaware of his thoughts.

"What else did she tell you?"

"That the Gatherer created a city out of nothing..."

"What? I didn't!" he exclaimed in wonder.

"She also said that you never believed it." Amanda agreed. She was always in awe when she thought of the story. That she now knew who Methos was, well, it kind of made her believe the story even more. "She told me that you also destroyed it..."

"Hidden it. Hidden is the important word."

"And that you created the Game." Methos sprang on his feet thunderstruck.

"SHE WHAT?" for the first time in her long life, Amanda became very frightened of the man in front of her. He stood tall, menacing, his eyes burning like a fire, gold. His fists were clenching and it seemed that he yearned for a sword, or a blade, anything pointed would do. Especially if it was inside her.

"Adam, dear?" she asked gently. "Let me finish." She took hold of his hand and pulled him gently to sit down. He did after a few moments, his eyes never leaving her, never becoming gentler. He looked like the ancient that he was. "She said it was unavoidable. That to hide TahDjeser you revealed how an immortal could die. The word spread, among the mortals, until some of us learned of it. But heard the story differently than those that saw the first Challenge. They liked the idea of the gathering power. The idea that in the end there would be only one, the most powerful of all. But they got it wrong didn't they?"

"There never will be only one. Those that die are reborn. We just store their quickenings until the suitable host is found. Then, without our knowledge, they leap to that host. And they get re-born. Killing the host. We all of us kill our mothers." He said flatly. For a moment Amanda was stunned. She had never expected him to tell her something as important as this. A few bits, yes. But this couldn't be something well known.

"Why are you telling me this." She asked, her voice a whisper.

"What do you mean? You asked." He replied amused, his eyes finally loosing some of his power, his stance, once more the relaxed, the familiar one of Methos. But he hadn't been Methos in the beginning.

"You are going to kill me, right?" the idea flashed in her mind unexpected. She froze the moment she heard her own words.

"I could." He agreed, "but the Highlander would never forgive me. Not to mention Joe."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I have several options. I could make you forget, make you swear that you'll never tell..."

"I won't."

"...or, I could tell you all." He paused, once more looking his age, deadly serious as he took her hand on his. "Rebecca trusted you the most, among her students. Otherwise she wouldn't have told you all that much. And I've known you for a thousand years. Amanda do you want to be my student?"

"Yes." No hesitation, no fear. Only awe. Methos smiled.

"Good." He got up, pulling her with him. "Let's go someplace more dry. And warmer."


Some explanations are coming; otherwise the story would make no sense. Tell me what you think.