What you wanted
Mecca Sturino
Okay, warning here. I think this is the only serious fic I've written. It's kinda sad. Moreover, it
was a quote challenge. "The Price of getting what you want is getting what you once wanted"
"But why?"
"Ah, the eternal question. I don't know why we're in this world. Maybe I will someday. There was a
time when I didn't know why the grass was green, the sky blue. Why the sun rose each day and
fell at the end of it. These have reasons now." He tipped back another drink. His twelfth. If he
hadn't had the healing powers of Wolverine ('Now where the hell did that come from?' he questioned
himself, eyeing the glass) he would be unconscious by now. This did, however seem a night to
die of alcohol. At least he wouldn't have any ill effects from it at anytime, just wake up feeling like
the was still floating on a silken cloud. 'Which,' he thought wryly, scrutinizing his drinking partner,
almost as deep in his cups 'was more than he could say for Joe tomorrow.'
"How do you stand it." So smashed, he was more prone to question the nature of immortality. Not
physically, but the moral, and psychological effects the same would have on one accrued such a
long life span. "The regrets, the deaths?"
" Death," He sighed, not knowing how to explain it, even if he'd been sober, and drunk the prospect
was even more daunting. "Death is what happens. That's why people hide, why so many become
hermits, unable to love anyone, become close to them because they just disappear. I knew a man,
Richard de Martays. He told me once that when he was young, just a boy really, he wanted to live
forever. Be young forever, and sow his wild oats." He sighed, looking at his hands. "He really didn't
understand what it entailed then, of course. Didn't understand. It took time. He buried two wives,
and five children. He seemed fine, but finally, his grocer died and Dick went looking for someone to
take his head. That's one of my regrets Both that I couldn't save him, and that I couldn't let him
find some anonymous immortal to take his head." He tapped his temple, one half of his mouth
smiling, but his eyes doing anything but. . "Another friend, swimming around up here."
"Things happen that you regret. It's part of life. And the longer that life, the more regrets, as a
matter of course. The little ones, the medium sized ones, and of course the thousand large regrets."
He smirked, inwardly appalled at his candor, and now rapidly sobering.
Joe's hand attempted, and failed, to find the bottle, without looking. "I think I need
another drink." He said faintly.
"Probably." Methos sighed, taking the bottle and pouring two shots. " I do too."
Joe smiled slightly, understanding his friend's irritation at himself for showing so much
of that which is Methos. Giving a little back, he replied. "I regret I went to 'Nam. But in a way
I don't." He quirked his mouth. "Does that make it a big regret or medium sized one?"
"Why do you regret it?" Methos asked not looking up from the bar. "Do you regret it
because if you hadn't gone to Vietnam, you probably wouldn't have lost your legs?" He looked up,
eyes bleak. "But Joe, that trauma defines part of who you are. How you respond to life, how you
don't let it define all of who you are. It showed you vividly that you can take anything life throws at
you, and turn it to your good. Make you happy. If you hadn't lost your legs, you probably wouldn't
have become a watcher. You would have consequently lost out on meeting many people who are
close to your heart. Who make up your life, in away. You wouldn't have met Amy's mother, so Amy
wouldn't exist. You would never have met MacLeod, so many Immortals would have died because
there would have been no one to fight the Hunters without you and your influence. And Joe, without
you, I wouldn't be as I am today. Things happen, Joe. Bad things. They enabled you to make a
difference in so many lives, made good things happen to you too. If you hadn't gone to Vietnam, the
world would be so much different. Your life would be so much different. And you don't have any
guarantee that your life with your legs would be much better. Or any better. As selfish as it is, my life,
MacLeod's life wouldn't be better. They'd be much worse without you. So, you may wish you
hadn't gone to 'Nam, but the price of getting what you want is getting what you once wanted."
With that, smiling at his friend, his best friend, Methos left the bar, leaving a very shocked
man in his wake.
Mecca Sturino
Okay, warning here. I think this is the only serious fic I've written. It's kinda sad. Moreover, it
was a quote challenge. "The Price of getting what you want is getting what you once wanted"
"But why?"
"Ah, the eternal question. I don't know why we're in this world. Maybe I will someday. There was a
time when I didn't know why the grass was green, the sky blue. Why the sun rose each day and
fell at the end of it. These have reasons now." He tipped back another drink. His twelfth. If he
hadn't had the healing powers of Wolverine ('Now where the hell did that come from?' he questioned
himself, eyeing the glass) he would be unconscious by now. This did, however seem a night to
die of alcohol. At least he wouldn't have any ill effects from it at anytime, just wake up feeling like
the was still floating on a silken cloud. 'Which,' he thought wryly, scrutinizing his drinking partner,
almost as deep in his cups 'was more than he could say for Joe tomorrow.'
"How do you stand it." So smashed, he was more prone to question the nature of immortality. Not
physically, but the moral, and psychological effects the same would have on one accrued such a
long life span. "The regrets, the deaths?"
" Death," He sighed, not knowing how to explain it, even if he'd been sober, and drunk the prospect
was even more daunting. "Death is what happens. That's why people hide, why so many become
hermits, unable to love anyone, become close to them because they just disappear. I knew a man,
Richard de Martays. He told me once that when he was young, just a boy really, he wanted to live
forever. Be young forever, and sow his wild oats." He sighed, looking at his hands. "He really didn't
understand what it entailed then, of course. Didn't understand. It took time. He buried two wives,
and five children. He seemed fine, but finally, his grocer died and Dick went looking for someone to
take his head. That's one of my regrets Both that I couldn't save him, and that I couldn't let him
find some anonymous immortal to take his head." He tapped his temple, one half of his mouth
smiling, but his eyes doing anything but. . "Another friend, swimming around up here."
"Things happen that you regret. It's part of life. And the longer that life, the more regrets, as a
matter of course. The little ones, the medium sized ones, and of course the thousand large regrets."
He smirked, inwardly appalled at his candor, and now rapidly sobering.
Joe's hand attempted, and failed, to find the bottle, without looking. "I think I need
another drink." He said faintly.
"Probably." Methos sighed, taking the bottle and pouring two shots. " I do too."
Joe smiled slightly, understanding his friend's irritation at himself for showing so much
of that which is Methos. Giving a little back, he replied. "I regret I went to 'Nam. But in a way
I don't." He quirked his mouth. "Does that make it a big regret or medium sized one?"
"Why do you regret it?" Methos asked not looking up from the bar. "Do you regret it
because if you hadn't gone to Vietnam, you probably wouldn't have lost your legs?" He looked up,
eyes bleak. "But Joe, that trauma defines part of who you are. How you respond to life, how you
don't let it define all of who you are. It showed you vividly that you can take anything life throws at
you, and turn it to your good. Make you happy. If you hadn't lost your legs, you probably wouldn't
have become a watcher. You would have consequently lost out on meeting many people who are
close to your heart. Who make up your life, in away. You wouldn't have met Amy's mother, so Amy
wouldn't exist. You would never have met MacLeod, so many Immortals would have died because
there would have been no one to fight the Hunters without you and your influence. And Joe, without
you, I wouldn't be as I am today. Things happen, Joe. Bad things. They enabled you to make a
difference in so many lives, made good things happen to you too. If you hadn't gone to Vietnam, the
world would be so much different. Your life would be so much different. And you don't have any
guarantee that your life with your legs would be much better. Or any better. As selfish as it is, my life,
MacLeod's life wouldn't be better. They'd be much worse without you. So, you may wish you
hadn't gone to 'Nam, but the price of getting what you want is getting what you once wanted."
With that, smiling at his friend, his best friend, Methos left the bar, leaving a very shocked
man in his wake.