Chapter Two: Dark Days
"He what?!...Adam Pierson!...God no, I...My God..."
Duncan MacLeod heard the raised voice of his friend and Watcher as he entered the bar. He noticed Joe at the bar in intense conversation with a young man. One who just happened to have a familiar tattoo. He smiled to himself, wondering what Joe had gotten himself involved with now, although he was somewhat concerned to hear methos' name mentioned. He hoped they hadn't found out that 'Adam Pierson' was an Immortal. Methos had been even more anxious than usual the last couple of weeks that they were going to find out. He had been challenged several times.
Not really wanting to interrupt, but curious and worried for his friend, Duncan approached the bar casually. But Joe noticed him practically straight away. He fell silent and turned to Duncan, who watched in concern as the colour drained from the Watcher's face.
"Mac...hi. Uh, get you a scotch?" he asked drily. How the hell was he supposed to tell Mac that Richie was dead, and that Methos was the one who killed him.
"Sure, Joe. Are you alright?" he asked, noticing the younger Watcher moving away, out of the corner of his eye.
"Um...", Joe replied, pouring a drink.
"What is it?"
"Oh, God! It's...it's bad Mac. Really, really bad. I...I can't believe it!"
"Joe, tell me!"
"Oh man...It...It's Richie, Mac, he..." He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't get the awful words past his lips. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you saw it, Duncan realised what he was trying to say.
"No!" Duncan whispered.
"It can't be. This must be a mistake, Joe..." he pleaded, his brown eyes filling with tears. Joe could do nothing more than shake his head, as his own grief at the untimely death of his young friend set in.
He watched a familiar look come into the Highlanders' eyes.
"Tell me who it was, Joe! I want the bastard dead." There was a deadly seriousness and icey-coldness the words. Joe had sometimes morbidly wondered how Richie's death would affect Duncan, if he would cope. He hoped he wouldn't still be around to have to deal with his own grief as well. Richie was a good friend - had been a good friend - and now he was gone. it wasn't fair. He was too young.
Joe just shook his head again. How could he tell Mac that it had been Methos. He still couldn't believe it. Methos could be a cold, calculating son-of-a-bitch sometimes, but he wasn't a head-hunter. Was he?! No, there had to be more to it. Eric had mentioned that Richie had started the attack, that 'Adam' had been defending himslef, but then had managed to get his sword at Richie's neck, before Richie had impaled him in the stomach in defence. Then Richie had gone in for the kill, only 'Adam' had managed to get there first. Joe couldn't understand it. Why had Richie gone after Methos? He was friendly enough with the Old Man, even if methos complained that he was a brat. He didn't know that Adam was really Methos though. It looked like Methos had only been defending himself, but why did he have to take his head? After 5000 years, couldn't the Old Man have found another way out?! Yep, he certainly was a cold-hearted bastard...
Slowly, Joe began to tell Duncan the tale, watching as the Highlander's face set into a determined grimace.
"Don't do anything stupid, Mac. Please. He may not have had a choice..." he asked.
"Of course he had a choice, Joe. Richie was only a kid. Methos is 5000 years old. 5000! How could Richie have competed?!"
"Just...just promise me you'll let him explain first..."
Duncan just gave the Watcher a look as he stormed out of the bar.
Joe collapsed onto the nearest stall, and poured himself a very large scotch. He wondered how he would cope. After promising that he would never get involved with immortals, he had gone and gotten extremely attached to both MacLeod and Richie. Joe poured himself another drink and tried to forget.
Meanwhile, Methos groaned as he came to. Then, remembering the reason for this particular death, he groaned again. As he felt the buzz, the groan increased. 'Shit!' he thought. MacLeod!
Getting up, he turned to face his friend.
"Mac..."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take your head right now, you bastard!" Duncan growled.
"I don't have one, Mac. But, I didn't have a choice. He came after me, I tried to stop him. He was talking some nonsense about me being dead, and didn't listen. It was him or me, what could I have done...?"
"Tried harder, maybe?" Duncan replied coldly.
"Mac...Duncan, I'm sorry. Truely I am. I don't know what else to say. He...was a good kid. Had potential..."
" 'Potential!' What do you know of Richie. He was a good kid, yeah. A kid, Methos. Don't tell me you coudn't have found a better way out of this!"
Methos just shook his head.
"I should take your head. But, I won't. I never want to see you again. And, rest assured, if I see you again, I will take your head..." With that Duncan turned his back on his former friend, not trusting himself to face the other man anymore.
Methos opened his mouth. Then closed it again. What could he say? Duncan wouldn't listen, and he couldn't really blame him. He'd lost his 'son', by Methos' hand. He turned away, wishing that there was some way he could ease the pain in the Scot's eyes.
"He what?!...Adam Pierson!...God no, I...My God..."
Duncan MacLeod heard the raised voice of his friend and Watcher as he entered the bar. He noticed Joe at the bar in intense conversation with a young man. One who just happened to have a familiar tattoo. He smiled to himself, wondering what Joe had gotten himself involved with now, although he was somewhat concerned to hear methos' name mentioned. He hoped they hadn't found out that 'Adam Pierson' was an Immortal. Methos had been even more anxious than usual the last couple of weeks that they were going to find out. He had been challenged several times.
Not really wanting to interrupt, but curious and worried for his friend, Duncan approached the bar casually. But Joe noticed him practically straight away. He fell silent and turned to Duncan, who watched in concern as the colour drained from the Watcher's face.
"Mac...hi. Uh, get you a scotch?" he asked drily. How the hell was he supposed to tell Mac that Richie was dead, and that Methos was the one who killed him.
"Sure, Joe. Are you alright?" he asked, noticing the younger Watcher moving away, out of the corner of his eye.
"Um...", Joe replied, pouring a drink.
"What is it?"
"Oh, God! It's...it's bad Mac. Really, really bad. I...I can't believe it!"
"Joe, tell me!"
"Oh man...It...It's Richie, Mac, he..." He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't get the awful words past his lips. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you saw it, Duncan realised what he was trying to say.
"No!" Duncan whispered.
"It can't be. This must be a mistake, Joe..." he pleaded, his brown eyes filling with tears. Joe could do nothing more than shake his head, as his own grief at the untimely death of his young friend set in.
He watched a familiar look come into the Highlanders' eyes.
"Tell me who it was, Joe! I want the bastard dead." There was a deadly seriousness and icey-coldness the words. Joe had sometimes morbidly wondered how Richie's death would affect Duncan, if he would cope. He hoped he wouldn't still be around to have to deal with his own grief as well. Richie was a good friend - had been a good friend - and now he was gone. it wasn't fair. He was too young.
Joe just shook his head again. How could he tell Mac that it had been Methos. He still couldn't believe it. Methos could be a cold, calculating son-of-a-bitch sometimes, but he wasn't a head-hunter. Was he?! No, there had to be more to it. Eric had mentioned that Richie had started the attack, that 'Adam' had been defending himslef, but then had managed to get his sword at Richie's neck, before Richie had impaled him in the stomach in defence. Then Richie had gone in for the kill, only 'Adam' had managed to get there first. Joe couldn't understand it. Why had Richie gone after Methos? He was friendly enough with the Old Man, even if methos complained that he was a brat. He didn't know that Adam was really Methos though. It looked like Methos had only been defending himself, but why did he have to take his head? After 5000 years, couldn't the Old Man have found another way out?! Yep, he certainly was a cold-hearted bastard...
Slowly, Joe began to tell Duncan the tale, watching as the Highlander's face set into a determined grimace.
"Don't do anything stupid, Mac. Please. He may not have had a choice..." he asked.
"Of course he had a choice, Joe. Richie was only a kid. Methos is 5000 years old. 5000! How could Richie have competed?!"
"Just...just promise me you'll let him explain first..."
Duncan just gave the Watcher a look as he stormed out of the bar.
Joe collapsed onto the nearest stall, and poured himself a very large scotch. He wondered how he would cope. After promising that he would never get involved with immortals, he had gone and gotten extremely attached to both MacLeod and Richie. Joe poured himself another drink and tried to forget.
Meanwhile, Methos groaned as he came to. Then, remembering the reason for this particular death, he groaned again. As he felt the buzz, the groan increased. 'Shit!' he thought. MacLeod!
Getting up, he turned to face his friend.
"Mac..."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take your head right now, you bastard!" Duncan growled.
"I don't have one, Mac. But, I didn't have a choice. He came after me, I tried to stop him. He was talking some nonsense about me being dead, and didn't listen. It was him or me, what could I have done...?"
"Tried harder, maybe?" Duncan replied coldly.
"Mac...Duncan, I'm sorry. Truely I am. I don't know what else to say. He...was a good kid. Had potential..."
" 'Potential!' What do you know of Richie. He was a good kid, yeah. A kid, Methos. Don't tell me you coudn't have found a better way out of this!"
Methos just shook his head.
"I should take your head. But, I won't. I never want to see you again. And, rest assured, if I see you again, I will take your head..." With that Duncan turned his back on his former friend, not trusting himself to face the other man anymore.
Methos opened his mouth. Then closed it again. What could he say? Duncan wouldn't listen, and he couldn't really blame him. He'd lost his 'son', by Methos' hand. He turned away, wishing that there was some way he could ease the pain in the Scot's eyes.