Disclaimers: When hell freezes over, a lot of funky shit will
happen, like me being able to claim ownership of the guys.
Special (extra special) thanks to Alex, the best beta reader this
world has ever known. I love you, man, you make my writing
worthwhile.
Dedicated to all the Jumpers.
Chronology: What's that??? Geez. . . sometime after CaH and
Rev6:8
---
Jumper
By Christy Xris Robbins
---
"Methos."
The old man turned. Duncan stood a few feet away, watching him.
"What do you want, MacLeod?" he demanded harshly. The tone
didn't faze the Scotsman, who stepped closer.
"What are you doing?" Methos glanced over the ledge of the
building, into the large Dumpster dozens of feet below. He turned
back to MacLeod.
"Jumping." Duncan paled visibly.
"Why?"
"Because I'm sick of it."
"The Game?"
"Life," Methos replied, "of living. The Game. Losing people I care
about. Having nasty parts of my past popping up at inopportune
times and destroying what little happiness I've found." Seeing the
reference to the Horsemen for what it was, Duncan sighed.
"Is that how you see Bordeaux and what happened?" he asked.
Methos turned to regard him in disbelief. Keeping his eyes trained
on Mac's, the ancient frowned.
"Why are you here, Mac?" he finally demanded. "What could
possibly have tempted you to associate yourself with Death?"
MacLeod would have left then, if the look of raw anguish in
Methos' eyes had not held him in his place.
"Don't start, Methos?"
"Start what, MacLeod?" Methos demanded. "The Horsemen
episode? I *finished* that. That's what you don't seem to
understand." He turned back to the ledge, looking down. They
had deposited a large piece of plate glass there earlier that
morning. There was a fairly good chance that, if he jumped right
now, he would die permanently.
Why?
Why, after five thousand years of living, was he going to let his
entire life go to waste? Why was he going to forsake fifty centuries
of life without even a fight?
Because of two words.
---We're through---
He glanced back at MacLeod, who had come a few steps closer.
Inside, he was vaguely aware that this irrationality was the direct
result of the mass amounts of alcohol he had consumed at Joe's,
but he could care less about that. He just wanted it over with so he
would no longer have to stare into MacLeod's huge, doe eyes and
wish that the owner could be his.
That was beginning to piss him off.
"You never answered my question, Duncan." The word, at any
other time, would have been a name. Between them now, it was a
weapon. "Why are you here?"
"Because you are," Duncan finally replied. "Because you're about
to destroy yourself for nothing."
"Nothing?" Methos spat. "Nothing? Do you know what I've lived
through Mac?" No. He would not start.
"Tell me," the Highlander said.
"Get the hell out of here, MacLeod," Methos snapped. "Even
better, go find Cassandra, at least then I'll be guaranteed a death
instead of relying on a piece of glass to do the job for me." He
hardly saw the Scot crossing the roof, he moved so fast. He did
feel the hand wrap around his cloak, though, and haul him
backward, throwing him to the ground. MacLeod drew his
katana, slicing through the air with it, the blade coming in contact
with Methos' neck. Methos lay totally still, staring at the blade
with a mix of fear and surprise.
"Is this what you want?" MacLeod growled. Methos shifted his
gaze to MacLeod's eyes.
"Yes," he said.
"Why?" Duncan demanded. Methos pursed his lips. "Dammit,
Methos, tell me!"
"Because you want me to!" Methos screamed. All the blood froze
in Mac's veins. "Because deep down in that chivalrous, heroic
heart of yours you're wishing that I had died in Bordeaux so you
didn't have to dirty your hands with my acquaintance." Duncan
stumbled backwards, his sword going wide. He stared at Methos in
shock.
"How can you say that?" he demanded.
"I can say it because it's true," Methos said. He stood and craned
his neck. "Are you going to finish the job or not?" MacLeod
stared at him in horror.
"I don't want you dead, Methos," he finally protested. "You're my
friend."
"I thought we were through," the older immortal snapped. Duncan
blanched.
"I don't want you dead, Methos," he stated. "I thought I'd made
that clear when I told Cassandra not to take your head."
"So what? You've ruined my place in the Watchers, blackballed me
from all your friends, destroyed any chance I had of being happy
and now you want me to just turn over and be thankful for the fact
that you saved my now-meaningless life?" Methos was getting
angry. "What's the point, Highlander? What do I have to live for."
"What did you live for before you met me?" Duncan demanded.
"To see how society has changed and compare it to my own past,"
Methos said. "But you've destroyed my past, Mac. Killed it with
that blasted katana." The blade felt heavier in Mac's hand. "And I
lived because I was afraid to die. But death has suddenly become a
whole lot more appealing."
"Why?" Mac asked, breathless.
"Because I'd rather be dead than have you hate me." The
admission surprised them both. "Because once Duncan MacLeod
of the Clan MacLeod brings you into his Clan and shows you love
and warmth, you would rather die than be cast out in the cold
again." Duncan stared at him.
"Methos..." he began. "I don't want you to die. I'll leave, if that's
what you want. Get out of your life forever."
"You're not *listening* MacLeod!" Methos shouted. "I don't want
to live without you!" He stared at the Highlander. "And that's why
I'm here."
"You're killing yourself because you can't live without me?"
MacLeod asked, unsure if he had just heard what he thought.
Methos caught his eyes and nodded once, slowly.
MacLeod stared at him, confused, scared. Was Methos admitting
love? He stared at his friend's eyes. There was so much pain,
there, so much hurt. But beneath was the look he had seen in the
eyes of Tessa a million times before she had died.
Methos loved him. Methos. Loved. Him.
"Methos..." he began.
"Don't say anything, Highlander," Methos whispered. "Just do me
this one favour and finish the job."
"Why?" Duncan demanded. "Why can't you live without me?"
Methos shook his head. "Tell me."
"Jesus, Mac..." Methos began. "Can't you just let it go?"
"No!" Duncan stated. "Let me rephrase. Why can't you live?"
"Because there are a million skeletons in my closet, Mac," Methos
said, warily. "And though not all of them are as violent as the
Horsemen, some are just as dangerous." MacLeod stared at them.
"So why can't you just put it behind you?" he asked.
"Oh, I can," Methos assured him. "I have. But you can't. It's
against your nature to forgive me for being what I was. To you I
committed the ultimate evil three thousand years back, when I took
up with Kronos. You will never forgive me, Highlander, and you
will never forget it."
"Methos, I-"
"Stop talking, MacLeod!" Methos shouted. "I want to die. Now.
So either kill me or leave so I can end it."
"I don't want your head, Methos," MacLeod stated.
"Don't want to be sullied with my Quickening? Think the Dark
MacLeod will take over? I shouldn't be surprised you don't want
him out again. He had more balls than you ever will." Mac crossed
to him and Methos braced himself, closing his eyes. This was it.
He had pissed MacLeod off just enough. Maybe now he would
finally be able to get some rest.
The katana dropped to the ground beside him.
His eyes flew open as MacLeod dropped to the ground beside him,
wrapping Methos in his arms.
"I'm sorry, Methos," he whispered. "I didn't mean to drive you to
this." Methos swallowed the lump in his throat, though he felt his
eyes become slightly wet.
"Mac..." Methos said, trying to convey an amount of support.
"Don't..."
"You've always been a true friend, Methos," MacLeod stated. "I
just forgot that."
"It's not your fault, MacLeod," Methos said softly. "A lot of
people would have acted the same way in your position."
"I should have been more objective."
"No, Mac. I wanted you to do what you did. I wanted you to cast
me out." Methos touched Mac's face, drawing it to his own. He
looked Duncan in the eye. "I wanted you to be safe. I thought that
by driving you away from me and the Horsemen you would be."
He chuckled. "Damn Scottish pride, you just had to come after
us." Duncan shook his head, though he was smiling.
"Why?" he asked. "Why send me away?"
"So that Kronos couldn't hurt you," Methos answered. "I know
that you managed to defeat him, but I couldn't take the chance that
you wouldn't." Duncan sighed.
"And why didn't you just tell me?" he questioned.
"Because you might have come to help," Methos told him. "And
Kronos had a bad habit of destroying everything and everyone I
love." He got a faraway look in his eyes. "He was unhappy with
me for leaving the Horsemen. When he first found me, he..."
Methos trailed off, and MacLeod noted his shudder. Duncan could
only speculate as to what his friend had gone through when he had
forsaken him.
"Forgive me, please," he whispered. Methos met his eyes. Caught
them. Held them within his own. Methos weighed the thoughts in
his mind. He saw MacLeod before him, recognized the sorrow in
his friend's gaze. Was that why he had come, to manipulate
Duncan into offering his apology for the events that had transpired
not a month ago?
"Can you accept what I was, MacLeod?" Methos asked. "Can you
live with the fact that I butchered right alongside Kronos and
offered no mercy where I went? Can you live with the blood that
is on my hands."
"I can live with it," MacLeod finally replied.
"But not accept it?" Methos ventured.
"I accept that you changed. That you're no longer that person. That
you're no longer Death," Duncan told him. Methos rolled the
words over in his mind.
"All right," he said slowly. "And when I screw up again?"
"We'll cross the bridge when we come to it," MacLeod promised.
"We'll come to it," Methos whispered. "I swear we will."
"Then we'll cross it together," Mac said. Methos stared at him.
How was it that this one man could decide whether he wanted to
live of die? When had he lost all his spine and turned his life over
to such an infant?
When he had fallen in love.
Shaking the thought from his head - as if MacLeod could ever love
him - he closed his eyes.
"Let's go," he muttered. "I need a drink."
"I think you've had too much to drink, old man," Mac stated.
Methos chuckled. Perhaps the child was right. Perhaps he'd had
enough.
The decision was made subconsciously. He was dropped off at his
apartment that night and MacLeod drove away, unsuspecting. The
only thing left of his former identity of Adam Pierson the next
morning was two notes: one for Duncan, one for Joe. He needed
this, a breath of fresh air. To get away from the web he'd trapped
himself in when Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod had
entered his life.
Would he ever return?
The thought rolled around inside his head a moment as the on-
flight movie started. Yes, perhaps he would. Not soon though. If
he was needed, Joe knew how to find him, if not where.
Only Joe.
He would not risk that spoiled, delusional, naive, chivalrous,
gorgeous Highland child chasing him halfway around the world...
Because if he did, Methos' heart, soul and life would be his.
And that was a risk the five thousand-year-old immortal was not
yet ready to take.
~Finis
Jumper
Third Eye Blind
I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies
That you've been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand
I would understand
The angry boy, a bit too insane
Icing over a secret pain
You know you don't belong
You're the first to fight
You're way too loud
You're the flash of light
On a burial shroud
I know something's wrong
Well everyone I know has got a reason
To say
Put the past away
I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies
That you've been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand
I would understand
Well, he's on the table
And he's gone to code
And I do not think anyone knows
What they are doing here
And your friends have left
You've been dismissed
I never thought it would come to this
And I
I want you to know
Everyone's got to face down the demons
Maybe today
We can put the past away
I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies
That you've been living in
And if you do not want to see me again
I would understand
I would understand
I would understand
Can you put the past away
I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
I would understand
