Chapter Twelve: Old Friends
Methos was at Joe's nursing yet another beer. A week had passed since what Joe was calling 'the Kronos situation' had taken place. Duncan had now disappeared and no one knew how to bring him back. The only thing that Joe was sure of was that the highlander was still alive. This time Joe had had enough time to assign him another Watcher. One that would stay in the shadows. Joe was still angry with the Scot for his treatment of Methos, and Methos seemed almost depressed as MacLeod. He had assured Joe that he would tell him everything he knew about Kronos and what had happened, but apart from telling him that Kronos was an
extremely nasty piece of work but was dead, so whatever they saw had to be the so-called demon, he'd said nothing. The Watcher records agreed. Kronos had been part of a group of Immortals going around killing mortals about 3000 years ago, calling themselves after the Four horsemen of the Apocalypse. He'd been beheaded 50 years ago by an immortal calling himself Peter Wingman, who boar an uncanny resemblance to Methos, if you knew what to look for, of course. So, either the
old man was being even more cagey than usual, or there was nothing else to tell. His research on demons had come up with nothing solid either.
The door opened just as Joe noticed the usual 'approaching Immortal' look cross swiftly across Methos' face. It was probably Amanda. He turned to greet his customer as Methos continued to stare defiantly at his beer.
"MacLeod. Can I get you a scotch?" Methos heard Joe ask.
"Duncan?" he wondered, looking up.
"Sorry, same clan, different vintage", replied the man in the trenchcoat and white trainers, uttering a line as famous among Immortals as his kinsman's'.
"Connor," Methos muttered, realising that he should have known that Joe would call the older Highlander. Oh, well, it was too late to run now. At least, it had for some excitment in the place. he was getting a little tired of waiting for the storm to hit.
"Do I know you?" Connor asked, turning to look at his companion properly. Methos smiled to himself. Had it really been that long that Connor didn't recognise him. Although of course, what with shorter, darker hair, no beard, no glasses....
"I'm Adam", he greeted in response.
"Duncan's never mentioned an Immortal called Adam Pierson to you?" Joe asked, curious.
"No, I don't know any Adam Pierson..."
Joe looked surprised. Then became even more surprised as Methos spoke again.
"But he knows a Peter Wingman..."
"Peter? My student? What's he got to do with anything? He died about 20 years ago!"
"No, he didn't, he faked a death, moved here and changed his name to Adam Pierson. Changed my hair, lost the beard, glasses..."
Connor looked closely. Could it really be?
"Peter?! It's really you?"
"In the flesh".
"You two know each other", asked Joe in shock.
"We worked together for about 20 years back in the 30s and 40s!" explained Methos.
"My God!" whispered Connor, to himself.
"Well, well, well", exclaimed Joe, wondering just how many Chronicles Methos had changed to protect his true identity.
"Well I...It's... God, what do I say? I thought you were dead! I missed you. No offence but I never expected you to last this long, you never were very good with a sword. Better at hiding as I remember. I missed you when I thought you'd been killed in that challenge with Owens but I wasn't very surprised," commented Connor, blunt as usual.
" 'Fess up, Old Man", whispered Joe, to Methos, "before he does something stupid."
"I..I can't. I can't put another friend in danger cos of me!" replied Methos.
He walked out the door as Connor was still doing the immortal memory thing.
Coming to at last, Connor quickly noticed 'Peter's' absence and he turned, too-casually, to Joe.
"So, Dawson, you never knew this Adam Pierson was really Peter?"
"Erm, no." the barkeeper agreed.
"And how old did this Adam proclaim to be - pretty young, I guess, under 100, going to Duncan for advice, running from challenges, pretty inept with a sword."
"I don't know."
"No, doesn't talk about himself much, does he? No fixed time when he first died, no tales of his first teacher. Very unusual, in one so young, don't you think?"
"I wouldn't know."
"Yeah, right. I know who you are Dawson. I've looked into these Watchers of yours. Very knowledgeable bunch of guys. So, tell me, what kind of an Immortal would go to the trouble of faking a beheading and not even tell one his best friends he was still alive?"
"Erm, a very cowardly one?" Joe tried.
"Or, a very clever, but very paranoid one. One with a quickening many Immortals would love to have. A very old, very powerful one. Tell me, Watcher, ever heard of an Immortal called Methos?"
"Methos. Er, yeah. A myth isn't it, supposed to be 5000 years old. Has to be myth."
"I don't think so," Connor replied, with a grin.
"You don't? Why, have you ever met him?!" asked Joe, doing a pretty good impression of the Methos-hunting, awe-inspired wide-eyed Watcher. "Anyway, where's Duncan? I thought you said he was going to meet me here?" Connor asked, changing the subject.
"Ah, yeah. I think you'd better sit down", replied Joe and he launched into the short version of recent events.
Half an hour later, Connor was looking very pale and worried.
"So, have you ever heard of any demon, creating hallucinations, trying to kill Immortals...? Adam said he has heard of demons, manifestations of pure evil, as well as there being manifestations of good, and that this creature may be one of them. Duncan called it a demon. Of course, he's not being much help."
"Where's Duncan now?"
"He's away..."
"Away. I can't believe you let him leave here..."
"Connor, it's alright. He's up at the island, hopefully sorting some things out. He's safe. I put a Watcher on him."
"But you just let him leave?"
"We tried once to stop him, that was when this Kronos creature appeared. Now he won't say a word to any of us!"
"Not even to Amanda?"
"Not to Amanda, not to me, not to Adam, er, I mean Peter!"
"Can't be easy, one of his friends being responsible for Richie's death. The kid was like a son to Duncan."
"I know. We were all pretty screwed up after that. We still don't really know what happened. All Adam said was that Richie attacked him suddenly, and in the end he had no choice but to take his head. It was him or Richie..."
"So sad. I can't imagine what Duncan's going through."
"No, but he needs help, especially if this creature is still on the loose. Adam seems to have some kind of connection to him, and he said that Duncan is in danger."
"I'll go and see him this afternoon. Peter, Adam, whatever he's calling himself now, he seems very knowledgeable."
"He's a scholar..."
"Hmm, I still think it's strange how he seems to know about everything, don't you? He must learn very quickly, to pick up such a lot in such a short time..."
Joe just shrugged, knowing that Connor would figure it out sooner or later, but not wanting to betray Methos' confidence.
Connor just gave Joe a raised-eyebrow look, and prepared to leave.
"I will get to the bottom of this," he declared, standing up.
Meanwhile, the object of Connor MacLeod's speculation was at that precise moment not 500 metres from Joe's bar. He was in a particularly good mood. His old friend was in town, and knew the truth about him, well some of it. Connor was nearly as stubborn as his cousin, so it was unlikely that the Scot would leave without trying to talk to him. Methos figured he may as well enjoy his friend's company. He'd start worrying again later. He'd hated running out on Connor like that, but, as usual, his past had been close on his heels and it had easier to let Connor, like everyone else, believe that Peter Wingman had lost his head. He also had hopes of Connor getting through to Duncan. He missed the younger Scot. So, whistling the proverbial happy tune, he rounded the corner back towards Joe's. He'd needed some time away from Joe and
Connor before one or the other one said something to Connor he would later regret. However, now he felt pleased to see his old friend and had decided to risk it. So, extremely distracted, he completely missed the feeling of presence which was like that of his own kind but so different. Like it had not so long ago, that presence crept into Methos' mind, and like the last time, it soon overpowered him, making him keel over, muttering and fighting within himself.
Methos was at Joe's nursing yet another beer. A week had passed since what Joe was calling 'the Kronos situation' had taken place. Duncan had now disappeared and no one knew how to bring him back. The only thing that Joe was sure of was that the highlander was still alive. This time Joe had had enough time to assign him another Watcher. One that would stay in the shadows. Joe was still angry with the Scot for his treatment of Methos, and Methos seemed almost depressed as MacLeod. He had assured Joe that he would tell him everything he knew about Kronos and what had happened, but apart from telling him that Kronos was an
extremely nasty piece of work but was dead, so whatever they saw had to be the so-called demon, he'd said nothing. The Watcher records agreed. Kronos had been part of a group of Immortals going around killing mortals about 3000 years ago, calling themselves after the Four horsemen of the Apocalypse. He'd been beheaded 50 years ago by an immortal calling himself Peter Wingman, who boar an uncanny resemblance to Methos, if you knew what to look for, of course. So, either the
old man was being even more cagey than usual, or there was nothing else to tell. His research on demons had come up with nothing solid either.
The door opened just as Joe noticed the usual 'approaching Immortal' look cross swiftly across Methos' face. It was probably Amanda. He turned to greet his customer as Methos continued to stare defiantly at his beer.
"MacLeod. Can I get you a scotch?" Methos heard Joe ask.
"Duncan?" he wondered, looking up.
"Sorry, same clan, different vintage", replied the man in the trenchcoat and white trainers, uttering a line as famous among Immortals as his kinsman's'.
"Connor," Methos muttered, realising that he should have known that Joe would call the older Highlander. Oh, well, it was too late to run now. At least, it had for some excitment in the place. he was getting a little tired of waiting for the storm to hit.
"Do I know you?" Connor asked, turning to look at his companion properly. Methos smiled to himself. Had it really been that long that Connor didn't recognise him. Although of course, what with shorter, darker hair, no beard, no glasses....
"I'm Adam", he greeted in response.
"Duncan's never mentioned an Immortal called Adam Pierson to you?" Joe asked, curious.
"No, I don't know any Adam Pierson..."
Joe looked surprised. Then became even more surprised as Methos spoke again.
"But he knows a Peter Wingman..."
"Peter? My student? What's he got to do with anything? He died about 20 years ago!"
"No, he didn't, he faked a death, moved here and changed his name to Adam Pierson. Changed my hair, lost the beard, glasses..."
Connor looked closely. Could it really be?
"Peter?! It's really you?"
"In the flesh".
"You two know each other", asked Joe in shock.
"We worked together for about 20 years back in the 30s and 40s!" explained Methos.
"My God!" whispered Connor, to himself.
"Well, well, well", exclaimed Joe, wondering just how many Chronicles Methos had changed to protect his true identity.
"Well I...It's... God, what do I say? I thought you were dead! I missed you. No offence but I never expected you to last this long, you never were very good with a sword. Better at hiding as I remember. I missed you when I thought you'd been killed in that challenge with Owens but I wasn't very surprised," commented Connor, blunt as usual.
" 'Fess up, Old Man", whispered Joe, to Methos, "before he does something stupid."
"I..I can't. I can't put another friend in danger cos of me!" replied Methos.
He walked out the door as Connor was still doing the immortal memory thing.
Coming to at last, Connor quickly noticed 'Peter's' absence and he turned, too-casually, to Joe.
"So, Dawson, you never knew this Adam Pierson was really Peter?"
"Erm, no." the barkeeper agreed.
"And how old did this Adam proclaim to be - pretty young, I guess, under 100, going to Duncan for advice, running from challenges, pretty inept with a sword."
"I don't know."
"No, doesn't talk about himself much, does he? No fixed time when he first died, no tales of his first teacher. Very unusual, in one so young, don't you think?"
"I wouldn't know."
"Yeah, right. I know who you are Dawson. I've looked into these Watchers of yours. Very knowledgeable bunch of guys. So, tell me, what kind of an Immortal would go to the trouble of faking a beheading and not even tell one his best friends he was still alive?"
"Erm, a very cowardly one?" Joe tried.
"Or, a very clever, but very paranoid one. One with a quickening many Immortals would love to have. A very old, very powerful one. Tell me, Watcher, ever heard of an Immortal called Methos?"
"Methos. Er, yeah. A myth isn't it, supposed to be 5000 years old. Has to be myth."
"I don't think so," Connor replied, with a grin.
"You don't? Why, have you ever met him?!" asked Joe, doing a pretty good impression of the Methos-hunting, awe-inspired wide-eyed Watcher. "Anyway, where's Duncan? I thought you said he was going to meet me here?" Connor asked, changing the subject.
"Ah, yeah. I think you'd better sit down", replied Joe and he launched into the short version of recent events.
Half an hour later, Connor was looking very pale and worried.
"So, have you ever heard of any demon, creating hallucinations, trying to kill Immortals...? Adam said he has heard of demons, manifestations of pure evil, as well as there being manifestations of good, and that this creature may be one of them. Duncan called it a demon. Of course, he's not being much help."
"Where's Duncan now?"
"He's away..."
"Away. I can't believe you let him leave here..."
"Connor, it's alright. He's up at the island, hopefully sorting some things out. He's safe. I put a Watcher on him."
"But you just let him leave?"
"We tried once to stop him, that was when this Kronos creature appeared. Now he won't say a word to any of us!"
"Not even to Amanda?"
"Not to Amanda, not to me, not to Adam, er, I mean Peter!"
"Can't be easy, one of his friends being responsible for Richie's death. The kid was like a son to Duncan."
"I know. We were all pretty screwed up after that. We still don't really know what happened. All Adam said was that Richie attacked him suddenly, and in the end he had no choice but to take his head. It was him or Richie..."
"So sad. I can't imagine what Duncan's going through."
"No, but he needs help, especially if this creature is still on the loose. Adam seems to have some kind of connection to him, and he said that Duncan is in danger."
"I'll go and see him this afternoon. Peter, Adam, whatever he's calling himself now, he seems very knowledgeable."
"He's a scholar..."
"Hmm, I still think it's strange how he seems to know about everything, don't you? He must learn very quickly, to pick up such a lot in such a short time..."
Joe just shrugged, knowing that Connor would figure it out sooner or later, but not wanting to betray Methos' confidence.
Connor just gave Joe a raised-eyebrow look, and prepared to leave.
"I will get to the bottom of this," he declared, standing up.
Meanwhile, the object of Connor MacLeod's speculation was at that precise moment not 500 metres from Joe's bar. He was in a particularly good mood. His old friend was in town, and knew the truth about him, well some of it. Connor was nearly as stubborn as his cousin, so it was unlikely that the Scot would leave without trying to talk to him. Methos figured he may as well enjoy his friend's company. He'd start worrying again later. He'd hated running out on Connor like that, but, as usual, his past had been close on his heels and it had easier to let Connor, like everyone else, believe that Peter Wingman had lost his head. He also had hopes of Connor getting through to Duncan. He missed the younger Scot. So, whistling the proverbial happy tune, he rounded the corner back towards Joe's. He'd needed some time away from Joe and
Connor before one or the other one said something to Connor he would later regret. However, now he felt pleased to see his old friend and had decided to risk it. So, extremely distracted, he completely missed the feeling of presence which was like that of his own kind but so different. Like it had not so long ago, that presence crept into Methos' mind, and like the last time, it soon overpowered him, making him keel over, muttering and fighting within himself.