Part Three:

Present:

Methos stood and stared at the barge for about ten minutes before forcing his feet to move in the direction of the walkway onto the boat. It was as bitterly cold as the previous night, and a light snowfall was beginning. Even that didn't entice him to hurry. This was Mac's barge, and he felt like a trespasser. Something he had never expected to feel about Duncan MacLeod or any place the Highlander called home. He slowly walked up to the boat. He was about half way along the walkway when the buzz hit his senses. 'Mac', he realised.
A second later, Duncan appeared on the deck.
"Methos."
"MacLeod".
"Are you coming aboard or not?" the Scot growled after a minute, as the older man made no move.
With a slight nod of his head, Methos continued onto the deck.
"I thought you'd be out. I was supposed to meet Joe here."
"So was I."
"Think we've been stood up?"
"Set up, more like."
Methos just nodded, not quite able to raise a grin. What was the Watcher thinking? This would take more than a forced meeting to fix. Did the mortal really want Duncan to kill him? Maybe he'd been expecting too much of Joe's apparent sympathy and friendship. Maybe he did agree that Methos really was the abomination he probably was. That still didn't mean Methos was about to offer Duncan Macleod his head on a plate. Not without a fight. He shook his head. No. Joe surely meant well. At least he tried to understand. He sometimes seemed to understand Methos better than Methos himself. Not that he really deserved understanding and sympathy. He was grateful for it anyway. But Joe was sadly mistaken if he thought that Duncan would understand any time soon.

After staring at the other man for a few minutes, wondering what was going through his mind - he still looked like Mac had killed his puppy - Duncan finally broke the ice.
"You'd better come inside. It's freezing out here".
Methos blinked, as if suddenly realising that it was once again, snowing around them. Without a word he followed Mac below decks.
'Now what?' Duncan wondered, glancing at the other man who seemed to be with him in body only. He hadn't wanted to do this so soon, but maybe it was for the best that Methos was here. He had promised Joe that he'd try. Trust Joe to make sure he kept that promise. If only he knew whether Methos would even listen to a word he said. Maybe it was better to keep to trivial things, at least get the older man to acknowledge him. And he would apologise. After all, it had been him who'd seemingly blanked the other man just the previous evening. How to explain that he just hadn't known what to say to the man. The intensity of Methos' gaze in the bar had unnerved him. Did his opinion really mean that much to the eldest Immortal? What was so special about him? He was a child compared to Methos. He knew he wanted Methos in his life - in amongst his confusion had been much misery. Talking with Joe had been the first time he'd really confessed to himself how much he needed the other immortal's friendship. But knowing what he now did about Methos, could things ever be the same? Especially with the way he'd treated him.

"I'll make some coffee. Make yourself at home".
Methos slowly settled down on the sofa, his lack of customary sprawl showing just how anxious he felt. Duncan frowned. He had to fix this.
Duncan made the coffee and went to push the hot cup into Methos still half-frozen hands. The man looked so lost and fragile, so unlike the warrior Duncan knew he could be, that he could have really been just Adam Pierson, poor graduate student, shy and socially inept and so very, very mortal. Very young and very liable to break or bolt if pushed too far. How much of that was real, at least at times, wondered Duncan.

Duncan's hands brushed the tips of Methos' fingers as the coffee was handed over, and it was only this that seemed to bring Methos back to the here and now. Blinking he stared up at Duncan for a moment. Duncan broke the eye-contact as he moved away. Methos' expression hardened slightly and Duncan could feel his eyes on his back as he retreated to get his own drink, and then to a chair around the table. He didn't want to crowd Methos.

Watching Mac through silted eyes, Methos tried to work out why he was still here. It was obvious that they had nothing to say to each other. The longer the silence went on, the harder it seemed to break it. He thought about the many times he'd been in this position before. No, he told himself, not this position. Not quite the same. Before, the silences between them had been comfortable ones, whilst they relaxed with a few beers or some of Mac's good wine, after a game of chess or watching a meaningless video. He'd been sprawled across the sofa, and Duncan had been on the armchair. Ok, he finally decided, once he'd finished his coffee, if Mac wasn't going to say anything, it looked like he'd have to. Duncan was currently staring into his cup, looking like he'd rather be anywhere than where he was. A sudden anger flared up in Methos. If the Boy Scout so obviously didn't want him here, why should he stay? He didn't have to answer to Duncan. And he wasn't about to stay here and listen to one of Duncan's lectures he was so well-known for. He stood up and grabbed his coat.
"Well, thanks, MacLeod. We really must do this again some time", he told Mac, and started towards the upper deck.
"You're leaving?!" The surprise in Duncan's voice caught Methos unawares. Had MacLeod really thought he had nothing better to do than sit in silence all day waiting to see if Duncan MacLeod of the Bloody Clan MacLeod decided to talk to him.
"No, Mac, I'm going to make breakfast! Of course, I'm leaving."
"But you…" He tried again. "Where will you go?"
"Oh I don't know…" 'Somewhere where I'm a little more wanted, maybe', he finished to himself, but he made no further move. It was Duncan's move now, and he was interested in how the Highlander would play it. Did he really not want him to go? Maybe he thought that if he didn't talk to him now, the lecture would never happen. The man had taken long enough to even look at him again, let along design to speak to him again. And poor, deprived Methos would never learn his lesson and take his judgement like a good little boy. What gave him the right, anyway?! What the Hell did Duncan MacLeod know about him and his life?
"Methos, we have to talk…"
"No, Mac, we don't."
"We do. I'm not letting you walk out of here without…"
"Mac, stop! Why do we have to talk, hmm? Because you say so? Well, that's not a good enough reason, MacLeod. I am outta here".
"How about, because we're hurting Joe?"
"Blackmail, MacLeod? I thought you didn't believe it that sort of thing".
"Whatever works, Methos, now sit down. Please".
The weariness in the Highlander's voice surprised Methos. Maybe, just maybe, for once, the Scot would listen. With a shrug, Methos sat.
"Methos, what happened in Boudreaux?" It was almost a whisper. Methos was almost speechless. Of all the things for MacLeod to say next, this was certainly not what he'd been expecting.
"What do you mean, 'what happened'? You were there", he replied, carefully neutral.
"I know. I just…Did you feel it, Methos? Something happened. When we took the Quickening…"
Duncan turned to look at Methos, the look on his face a mixture of relief and apprehension, as if he was relieved to have unburdened himself but unsure of the effects of that action.
Methos stared at him for a minute, seeing the seriousness in the Highlander's eyes. Damn, why did every single little have to be talked through to death?
"Yes, MacLeod, I did feel it. Happy now".
"And?!"
"And what?"
"What do we do about it?"
"Would it sound too callous if I said I don't know and don't really care?"
"I see."
"Mac, I don't know what you expect here. If you're willing, I would really like to be your friend again, to sit in Joe's and have a few beers together. But I can't do that if you either aren't willing to trust me and let the past lay in the past where it belongs. Or…"
"Or…?"
"Or if you treat me like I should have all the answers…" he whispered.
"I see", Mac repeated.
"Mac, that didn't come out right. All I mean is, well, if there is something that you should learn from the Horseman incident is that I'm only human. With good and bad points. Black and white. Just like you, just like Joe. I just want to be your friend. I've changed and grown, seen a lot of things, read a lot of books, but that's all. I have no answers."
"I'm so sorry".
Methos blinked. Shook his head. Said nothing.
After a minute, Duncan frowned. Now what?
"Methos? Are you ok?"
"Yeah. I think you just made history there though, MacLeod. Rendered me totally speechless! Did you just apologise to me."
"Funny, Old Man, funny".
"Do you mean it?"
"Yes. You're right. I just had trouble coming to terms with my initial reaction, to the way I treated you, and to what I saw when we took the Quickenings. I can't say that I totally understand what happened, or accept it, but I can accept that you've changed and that, at the time you had no choice. Please say you forgive me".
"Mac, I forgave you long ago".
"Oh. I still wish you had trusted me more. Trusted me to help you."
"I couldn't…I couldn't put you in danger. I do trust you, but I don't find trust easy. I've been betrayed far too often. Many times I've told myself that I should only trust myself, but then I go and do something stupid". Like fall in love, again, he finished to himself, taking in the sweet smile Duncan now gave him.
"Methos, we all do stupid things occasionally…"
"Even you?" This with a raised eyebrow and a slight laugh. He needed to lighten the mood.
"Even me, but it's ok."
Just what was going on here? Duncan apologising, trying to reassure him? This was way too easy. And, he realised that fact was starting to worry him. As long as knew where he was with MacLeod, everything was fine. But the damned Scot had to keep changing the ground rules on him. First he wanted to protect him, then he was in awe of him, then he treated him like another student. Sometimes a drinking buddy. Occasionally, a confident and friend. Then, he was treating him like scum. Now…
Now, the other man was looking at him like he was the most important thing there. It was unnerving.
"Mac, I said, no being in awe of the amazing 5000 year-old man!"
"I'm not. Not any more. It's just that I've realised something. And, no, it's not because you're the oldest of us all, it's just because of who you are. You're too important to loose…"
Methos gulped, tore his gaze away from Mac, and struggled to his feet. Bloody Hell! He knew! Bloody Duncan bloody straight-as-an-arrow bloody knew how he felt. And he was…teasing him?
"Methos, I…"
"Mac, I'll see you around", he called over his shoulder as he attempted to break the record for quickest time between couch and door. He just couldn't do this.
"Damn!" Duncan swore softly to himself as the barge was suddenly bereft of Methos' presence. He'd expected some teasing, a polite but friendly brushing off and a 'I'm flattered, but, no'. He'd hoped for a little understanding. He'd wished for resiparatation. But something he really hadn't expected, after things had been going so well, was for Methos to run like a frightened rabbit.