Chapter Three: Unwelcome Visitor
Methos sighed to himself as he left Seacover airport. He was doing it again, he realised, Gods he really was getting foolish in his old age. He was getting involved again, and he was returning to the Highlander - again. Why he cared so deeply for MacLeod, why he was forever drawn to him, to want to regain his friendship and respect, Methos didn't know. And, he decided firmly, he didn't want to think about it. That was another thing he was doing too much of lately - thinking. Hell, he'd survived for thousands of years before MacLeod and would probably survive still after the Highlander had gone from this world. So, why was he so important?!
After a month of travelling and thinking, even brooding (another problem with hanging around MacLeod!), Methos had decided that it was no good, he had to return, however briefly and check on Mac and on Joe. Gods, he'd nearly forgotten about the Watcher. He knew that even though Joe had been a Watcher for some time, Riche was his friend as well as an immortal.
So, here he was again in Seacover, a month older, but not much wiser, not much of anything really.
Joe Dawson sat in a darkened corner of his blues bar, drinking Scotch and listening to the band. It was a routine he was used to, having been doing the same now every night for a month. Part of him knew he was drinking too much, knew that Mike was worried about him. But, the other part, the part that he'd been listening to more and more recently said 'who cares? What did it matter how much he drunk'. He had nothing better to do. The bar was practically running itself, and he had no other place to be. Nothing important to do. In fact, nothing mattered much anymore. He didn't matter, he wasn't particularly important so why it matter if all he did was sit here and get drunk. He was happy. He was only mortal and wouldn't be much longer being that anyway. Yep, nothing mattered, except keeping his glass full, he thought as he poured another drink. And at least it stopped him thinking...
But, that other part of his mind knew he wasn't really happy, that things did matter. Someone mattered...Mac something or other, he couldn't remember. He was important, so was Joe himself. That part of Joe Dawson, Immortal Watcher extrodinare, knew he was just surviving, not living. No Richie, no Mac, just him. Just surviving, just as someone else he once knew told him. He couldn't remember that person's name either. He decided not to bother trying.
He knew all these things, somewhere inside him, but the part of Joe who now had control wasn't listening, not today anyway.
Methos took a deep breath and prepared to face the enemy. Steeling
himself, he walked into Joe's bar.
He immediately spotted Joe slumped in a corner seat with a half empty liquer bottle on the table in front of him.
Joe looked up, squinting, as the soft footsteps approached him. 'What did Mike want now, couldn't he just leave him alone?' But it wasn't Mike, it was...
"You! Get out, Methos! How dare you come back here", Joe shouted, the anger clearing his brain slightly.
"Joe, please. We, we used to be friends.." Methos didn't quite know why he was almost begging for the Watcher's acceptance, but it was important he didn't lose this friendship, if it wasn't lost already.
"Some friend! You used us, Methos, decieved us all, even Mac, and you killed Richie!"
"Joe, I can only apologise so much. What else can I do? I never wanted Richie dead. It was he who wanted my head!"
"Yeah, and you're 5000 years older than he was. Are you sure you couldn't have stopped him any other way!"
"I didn't want him dead, Joe!" he shouted.
"How can I convince you that I'm a good guy, well, not a bad one, anyway! Please don't do this Joe, don't blame me forever..."
"So, who was to blame?" Joe continued bitterly.
"Oh, I know, let's blame Richie. Oh, we can't, he's dead!" He spat the words out, and Methos' heart sank. He had to help Joe. Despite his 5000 years he didn't have many friends, not real ones, ones who knew the real him. Joe Dawson came pretty close to knowing the real him and accepting everything about him, until now. The only other one, was... Was the Highlander, of course. Well, first things first. First Joe, then the stubborn Scot. He didn't quite know which would be worse.
"Joe. Please. Listen. It happened, but don't do this to yourself. It wasn't your fault. Don't you think I wish I could have stopped him, done something. But there was nothing I could have done. Joe, even if you don't forgive me, please just listen. Do you think Richie would have wanted to see you like this? If you don't do this for me, do it for him, and do it for MacLeod. Richie was his student. He was like a son to him."
"Well, he wasn't the only one. I loved Richie as well, and he was my responsibility as much as Mac's."
"I know Joe. I know it hurts. Gods know I know. I wish it was different, but I can't bear seeing you like this, and I know Richie wouldn't want it. I'll go now, Joe, if you want me to, but please just think about it."
Methos got up to leave, and Joe just let him go without another word.
Methos sighed. One down, one to go. He didn't know how much good he'd done Joe, but he hoped the man had listened to him. He'd seen too many men destroy themselves over loss, regret, and guilt, himself included, and he didn't want to lose Joe even sooner than necessary. He'd taken it so hard. He didn't want to loose Joe this way, couldn't stand to see the Watcher so angry and bitter with him. he knew that he had had no other choice. Something strange had prompted Richie into attacking him. He still had no idea what, though, althoough he was determined to find out. For all their sake's. It didn't stop him blaming himself though.
Methos sighed to himself as he left Seacover airport. He was doing it again, he realised, Gods he really was getting foolish in his old age. He was getting involved again, and he was returning to the Highlander - again. Why he cared so deeply for MacLeod, why he was forever drawn to him, to want to regain his friendship and respect, Methos didn't know. And, he decided firmly, he didn't want to think about it. That was another thing he was doing too much of lately - thinking. Hell, he'd survived for thousands of years before MacLeod and would probably survive still after the Highlander had gone from this world. So, why was he so important?!
After a month of travelling and thinking, even brooding (another problem with hanging around MacLeod!), Methos had decided that it was no good, he had to return, however briefly and check on Mac and on Joe. Gods, he'd nearly forgotten about the Watcher. He knew that even though Joe had been a Watcher for some time, Riche was his friend as well as an immortal.
So, here he was again in Seacover, a month older, but not much wiser, not much of anything really.
Joe Dawson sat in a darkened corner of his blues bar, drinking Scotch and listening to the band. It was a routine he was used to, having been doing the same now every night for a month. Part of him knew he was drinking too much, knew that Mike was worried about him. But, the other part, the part that he'd been listening to more and more recently said 'who cares? What did it matter how much he drunk'. He had nothing better to do. The bar was practically running itself, and he had no other place to be. Nothing important to do. In fact, nothing mattered much anymore. He didn't matter, he wasn't particularly important so why it matter if all he did was sit here and get drunk. He was happy. He was only mortal and wouldn't be much longer being that anyway. Yep, nothing mattered, except keeping his glass full, he thought as he poured another drink. And at least it stopped him thinking...
But, that other part of his mind knew he wasn't really happy, that things did matter. Someone mattered...Mac something or other, he couldn't remember. He was important, so was Joe himself. That part of Joe Dawson, Immortal Watcher extrodinare, knew he was just surviving, not living. No Richie, no Mac, just him. Just surviving, just as someone else he once knew told him. He couldn't remember that person's name either. He decided not to bother trying.
He knew all these things, somewhere inside him, but the part of Joe who now had control wasn't listening, not today anyway.
Methos took a deep breath and prepared to face the enemy. Steeling
himself, he walked into Joe's bar.
He immediately spotted Joe slumped in a corner seat with a half empty liquer bottle on the table in front of him.
Joe looked up, squinting, as the soft footsteps approached him. 'What did Mike want now, couldn't he just leave him alone?' But it wasn't Mike, it was...
"You! Get out, Methos! How dare you come back here", Joe shouted, the anger clearing his brain slightly.
"Joe, please. We, we used to be friends.." Methos didn't quite know why he was almost begging for the Watcher's acceptance, but it was important he didn't lose this friendship, if it wasn't lost already.
"Some friend! You used us, Methos, decieved us all, even Mac, and you killed Richie!"
"Joe, I can only apologise so much. What else can I do? I never wanted Richie dead. It was he who wanted my head!"
"Yeah, and you're 5000 years older than he was. Are you sure you couldn't have stopped him any other way!"
"I didn't want him dead, Joe!" he shouted.
"How can I convince you that I'm a good guy, well, not a bad one, anyway! Please don't do this Joe, don't blame me forever..."
"So, who was to blame?" Joe continued bitterly.
"Oh, I know, let's blame Richie. Oh, we can't, he's dead!" He spat the words out, and Methos' heart sank. He had to help Joe. Despite his 5000 years he didn't have many friends, not real ones, ones who knew the real him. Joe Dawson came pretty close to knowing the real him and accepting everything about him, until now. The only other one, was... Was the Highlander, of course. Well, first things first. First Joe, then the stubborn Scot. He didn't quite know which would be worse.
"Joe. Please. Listen. It happened, but don't do this to yourself. It wasn't your fault. Don't you think I wish I could have stopped him, done something. But there was nothing I could have done. Joe, even if you don't forgive me, please just listen. Do you think Richie would have wanted to see you like this? If you don't do this for me, do it for him, and do it for MacLeod. Richie was his student. He was like a son to him."
"Well, he wasn't the only one. I loved Richie as well, and he was my responsibility as much as Mac's."
"I know Joe. I know it hurts. Gods know I know. I wish it was different, but I can't bear seeing you like this, and I know Richie wouldn't want it. I'll go now, Joe, if you want me to, but please just think about it."
Methos got up to leave, and Joe just let him go without another word.
Methos sighed. One down, one to go. He didn't know how much good he'd done Joe, but he hoped the man had listened to him. He'd seen too many men destroy themselves over loss, regret, and guilt, himself included, and he didn't want to lose Joe even sooner than necessary. He'd taken it so hard. He didn't want to loose Joe this way, couldn't stand to see the Watcher so angry and bitter with him. he knew that he had had no other choice. Something strange had prompted Richie into attacking him. He still had no idea what, though, althoough he was determined to find out. For all their sake's. It didn't stop him blaming himself though.