Too late for vengeance

by liliaeth

Vengeance, a living breathing force, even as it's time has long since passed. (complete)

Subject: Too late for vengeance
Author: Lore Krajsman
Rating: PG13(scenes of torture)
Summary: Joe knew something was wrong with the boy, but even he is shocked to find just how wrong things are as yet another old friend of Methos shows his true colors.
Feedback: Just send it to lilith93@hotmail.com

This is a part of the Kid brothers: Can't live with them, can't kill them-cycle and follows directly after The Kid.
I also refer to knowledge from previous stories in My Liliaeth: Family Lines-universe.
Reading them isn't essential, but will help.
Especially Mothers Love and Loki: The Slayer of Gods.

One drop came tumbling down the wall.
One little scarlet drop.
It tumbled and tumbled until it hit a raven strand of hair.
A young boy sat there hidden underneath a pack of sheets.
He was crouched in, cradling his legs, shivering. Something was coming. He could hear it's voice, it sounded almost childlike.

"One little boy is hiding away.
One little boy is here to stay.
One little boy is here to die."

A sword hit the spot right next to him.
The boy tumbled out and tried to run, but he was caught before he got far. He stared at his attacker in fear.
The monster looked young, like a boy, friendly even, if not for it's eyes. Crystal blue eyes in a young face. Nekron trembled as those blue mirrors turned to him with a laugh reflected in their depths.
"Your time is up little boy."

Neke was sure the creature could hear his bones shaking.

****

Over 3.000 years later a man woke up in shivers. One hand clutched around the rail of his seat. His short black hair disheveled. His dark brown eyes wide open.

"Mister Lewis?" Nekron looked up at the woman in front of him, the stewardess.

"Uh yes."

"I just wanted to tell you we're nearly there."

"Thanks." He quickly brushed his hand through his hair and tidied himself up a bit.

"This time I'll get you Loki. You have my word on it."

Part One

John Davis grabbed for his suitcase as he hurried after his immortal. Did the man have to move so damn fast? He tried to duck back when Nekrons eyes fell on him. He knew he was caught.

"Nick."

"John."
Nekron sounded more annoyed than anything else. By now the immortal knew his watcher well enough to expect this.

"You shouldn't have followed me Davis. It's to dangerous."
His words sounded strangely melodious with that undefined accent still ringing through

"What? And miss out on something for the chronicles?"

"I distinctly remember trying to lose you for your own safety."
John knew the concern wasn't just pretended. But what could he do?
"I sincerely doubt Loki 'll care about innocent bystanders much."

"Oh God Nekron. Not again! Please? Remember the last four times you thought it was him?"
Seeing the seriousness on his assignment's face, "You've got to be kidding. Loki's been missing for over 3.000 years and you really think you're suddenly going to find him now."

"Yes."

"Why?" The Watcher looked at him in disbelief.

"I saw him. On the news. He's around here somewhere."

"What news?"

"Yesterday's. He killed an immortal called Charles Green right in front of a school building. The news report showed his picture."

"Green?" Davis pulled up his thinking face. "But you haven't even seen ...?"

Nekron didn't let him finish.
"I have seen his face in my every nightmare since the first night I saw him. I will never forget that face.

"I could help."

"No!" Some people looked around as his outcry was a bit louder than intended.
"I'm sorry John. But he's to dangerous."

"I'm just thinking that the Watchers might have something on him."

"What about your oath?"

"What about it? If I can bring in Loki, tell the Watchers where to find him and such, it'll be the biggest coup since ... ever. I mean, we're talking Loki here. The very embodiment of danger. The worst headhunter ever.
This guy was almost solely responsible for decimating the immortal population during the Bronze Age. Well him and the Horsemen."

"And you think the Watchers would help you because of that?"

"Are you kidding."
The watcher gave his immortal a disbelieving glare.
"He's ancient, a myth. They'd move heaven and hell for a chance like this."

Nekron considered it for a second. The watcher was almost bouncing on the floor, nerves and a curiosity strong enough to move the world.
"OK John. But you stay out of my way. If, no when we find him, I won't take a gamble on your life."

"Don't worry, I'm not exactly keen on getting that headstone either."
The Watcher picked up his bag again.
"So where are we heading for?"

"A little town called Riverdale. It's where he was last seen.

*** Joe's ***

The last lights of the evening were still on. The ones above the bar, a few in the corners and one hanging over a table in the middle of the room. Any cop, unaware of the issues involved could come in and cause a lot of trouble for the bartender, but Joe knew that Methos' companion was well above legal drinking age.

Joe watched avidly as Methos and Thomas Moore were playing an old game. It involved chicken bones and beer. Moore claimed Methos had taught it to him. At the moment though, Moore was winning. For every point one of them scored that person got a beer. Joe could see over 30 pints standing at Moore's side of the table, all empty.

Joe smiled as he brought the two immortals another tray of beers. Methos wasn't looking to well as he'd only had two beers the entire night. The Watcher threw him a compassionate glance and headed over to the counter to pick up the phone.

"Joe's , Joe Dawson speaking."

"Mister Dawson? My name is John Davis, I doubt you've heard of me, but I'm Nekron's Watcher."

How could he not. Nekron, the world oldest boy scout. Hell he made Mac look like a Hellion. He'd been saving damsels in distress and fighting the good fight even when Athens was a rising city and Rome had been less than a selection of huts around a rat infested well. He'd practically invented chivalry.

Even Horton hadn't been able to convince all his hunters from his evil. Hell it had been one of Horton's own men who'd warned the watchers of the attack on him. And of course Nekron's watcher had jumped to the cause and warned his immortal.
Not that that hadn't gotten him in any trouble.

But Nekron was supposed to be in Chicago.
"What's up?"

"We're in Riverdale, about an hour drive from Seacouver now and I was hoping you could help me with something."

Great, yet another person who needed his help. Joe hoped he'd reach his bed at the end of the evening.

"Sure what's up." he said in a grudging tone of voice.

"Have you heard of an immortal called Charles Green. He was beheaded there a few days ago."

"Green?" Joe said the voice rather loudly it seemed cause both Methos and his young looking friend looked up at the mentioning. They continued their game, neither of them looked his way, yet somehow Joe doubted it still held their full attention..
"Yeah I've heard of it. Why?"

"Nekron believes that he may have been killed by Loki."

"Loki?" Joe could barely get out the name. He'd heard of the immortal off course. If one could believe the stories he was like a mixture between Freddie Krueger, Jason and every other horror-figure ever invented. It was said that even the Kurgan had feared his name.
Joe couldn't help take a deep swallow.
"Wasn't he supposed to be dead?"

"That's what I thought. Nekron recognized him from a news report."
And of course he was sure of it.

"Oh man. What can I do?"

"Do you know where Thomas Moore is? That's the name Loki was using."

Joe threw a glance at the boy who was drinking yet another beer.
"Uh I'm not sure. Give me your number and I'll let you know as soon as I've got something."
He listened as Davis gave him the number and put down the phone, all the time keeping his eyes on the 'kid' with Methos.

It was a few hours later that Methos pulled his brother in his arms and dragged him to the car. Joe kept a weary eye on the boy.

"Methos."
The ancient turned to him.
"I need to talk to you." Methos turned another look at the boy he was putting in the car.
"Alone."

Methos was a bit shaken up by the vehemence in that statement.
"Is it about Green?"

"In a way."

"Look I'll drop Tom off at my place and see you here after that."

Joe nodded and went back inside.

*** Riverdale ***

In Riverdale Nekron was visiting the Keller-homestead.
Lisa Keller had been the one dating Loki and her father had held a heavy interest in the case after that. Nekron pulled out his Interpol-ID and started his spiel on the mysterious beheadings that had been plaguing the world lately.
Keller looked like he didn't entirely believe it, but Nekron knew that Nick Lewis' credentials were beyond reproach. He had after all been wearing the identity for over 10 years. At first working with Interpol had just been a way to help humanity, but more and more he noticed that with the Gathering approaching, it could be a help to immortals as well. Especially in trying to keep the Game a secret. Some people just had no sense of discretion.

Eventually Keller started telling him about the case and his encounter with Moore.
He'd been surprised to find out the boy had been responsible for the gruesome murder. He just didn't have that look that screamed: 'Psychopathic killer here'.
No one ever suspected a thing where Loki was concerned. Not until it was too late. He pulled his attention back to the man.

"I guess he must have gotten pulled into some kind of cult. Right?"
The cop almost begged him for any excuse, any grain of hope that a young boy like that couldn't be a cold blooded killer. That there just had to be a reason for this. Nekron didn't dare disappoint him.

"Yes. It's a bit unlikely one person could have been responsible for all these deaths."

"Man. I wonder if his brother is involved as well."

"His brother?"

"Yes Tom told me and the kids that he was living with his brother Adam.
We checked it out and apparently he was talking about a Adam Matthews. But then ...that's all we could find. "

"Do you know anything, just about anything about this Adam Matthews that might in the farthest reaches be useful."

"Well, the only thing we've got to even prove his existence is that he owns a mailbox over in Seacouver."

*** Joe's **

A soft blues tune played through the air. When the song ended all that followed was a dead silence. The tables were still covered with the glasses, someone had started to pile up the ashtrays, but hadn't even bothered to empty them.
There was but one light left burning in the room, the one above the bar.

The door behind the bar stood open and gave sight on a small office.
Joe sat back on a hard wooden chair, keeping the weight of off his legs, merely looking at his beer instead of drinking it. His guitar stood at his feet, untouched.

"Joe?"

"In here." he easily invited the ancient immortal to his inner-sanctum. The room behind his counter which he used as Watcher- regional headquarters.

"Methos."

The immortal immediately slouched down on the couch beside the wall.
"So what did you need to talk about?"

Joe looked at his beer a bit longer.
"Who's Moore?"

"You know who. He's a friend of mine whom I've known for his entire life."

"What else?"

"He's a nice kid, a student of Fitzcairne and has a bit of a soft spot."

"And now the truth." the words came out harder than intended.

"What truth."
Denial, of course. Methos gave him that hurt puppy dog look, but Joe knew better than to fall for it.

"Really? And you want me to believe that's all you know about Thomas Moore AKA Loki."
Joe could almost see a sense of shock course through the old mans body at the mention of the name.

"How did you get that name?"
There was a sense of menace in Methos' voice, a tone that reminded Joe once again that this wasn't the mild mannered watcher he'd known for years. It was Methos. Death. And he didn't really know the man in front of him half as well as he'd thought he did.

"Is it true? Is he Loki?"
Methos stood up and turned away.
"Is he or is he not Loki? I need to know Methos."

"Why? So your Watcher-chronicles can be corrected?
Loki has been death for 3.000 years Joe. Let's not wake the dead."

"How dead? The way Death was dead, the way the Horsemen were dead."
The old man gave him an angry glare. Almost daring him to go on, but with a clear warning to stop.

Part two

*** 3025 BC ***

For some reason he remembered the tundra as it had been as a dark and empty place. A few empty trees waiting for the snow to fade. The sun looming over him and the animal he was pushing to the limits seemed unforgiving to his skin. There was nothing in the emptiness. Merely stick figures in the distance, barely noticeable to his worn out self. His horse was exhausted, engulfed in sweat and ready to collapse, but he didn't care. His eyes were cold. Devoid of emotion.

He rode on an on, rushing into a single oasis of life in the darkness. The camp seemed small now that he had seen more of the world, than just the few huts surrounding the tribe's fire. He could see the mountains looming behind the tribe's camping place. Impossible to overcome.

If she wasn't here then ...

When he rode into camp his sudden stop created a cloud of dust around him. The nomads looked upon him with weary eyes. He wasn't sure what to do. Their great-grandparents would have welcomed him as a member of the tribe, but to these people he was no more than a stranger. A possible threat to them all.

"Is the Mother still here?" he begged them, hoping that she was, even though he hadn't seen his mother for over the span of four generations..

"What do you want from the Mother?" The nomads stared at him, a stranger, a warrior.
"I ..." But before he could answer he could feel the ringing of her Buzz approach him.
He let himself drop from his horse and kneeled down before her.
"Mother." And for the first time in weeks he allowed himself to cry.
She just knelt down beside him and allowed his head to rest on her lap. Comforting him with her presence. Understanding without a word what he was going through.

Then the sound of crying interrupted them. Methos looked up in surprise at the baby on her back.

"Majal?"

"Matta, meet your new brother Temie."

"Gegen. This is my son Methos. He has returned to us."

It was a giant of a man who came up to him, his one hand on Majal's shoulder. Only now did Methos recognize the symbol of mating on his mothers face. Her mate, her husband.
Gegen offered him his hand and Methos knew that the mortal would judge him as he would the man that had married his mother. Gegen was a big and strong man. A woodcutter and hunter. His grip was steady and firm, but held a kindness and acceptance that Methos had rarely seen.

And so the years past on. Wherever Methos went Temie wouldn't be far off. He couldn't go hunting or the kid would try and follow him in the woods. And every time Methos had to leave him he would cry his eyes out. Only to fall into leaps of joy each time his older brother entered the camp. Jo'lon and Gegen were more than happy to enjoy every moment of privacy they got.

And as years continued, life went slow in the small tribe. The baby became a boy, the boy got to the advent of manhood.

Calmly he approached the animal, gently stroking past its beautiful black manes and placing his blanket on its back before climbing on. His bare legs brushed against the horses torso. At first he rode calmly letting the animal warm up. It was a game for the both of them, the boy and the colt, racing the wind, jumping over every obstacle they found on their course. As they had done so often before, as they planned to do so often again. He leaned over to the horses ear and whispered a single command. Temlan carefully began moving alongside the colts back as it increased it's speed. It was a trick he'd perfected some time ago and he enjoyed the pride in his brothers eyes. But then just as they neared the cliff the horse suddenly shied.
Temlan tried to hold on, but his strength wasn't enough.
His last thought as he fell was the disappointed look his brother would have.
He felt some more pain as he tumbled down the cliff and fell still against the bottom of the ravine.

By the time his eyes opened the sun had climbed down from the sky. Night hadn't yet taken it's rule, but it's shadows rushed over him like a blanket. Then the sun's last rays were blocked as his mother loomed over him.
Her tears hitting him like a rainfall.

"Majal, Matta?"

His mother was crying. In all his life he'd never seen her cry before. Methos held on to her and looked at him with some sort of pain in his eyes. That and a coldness he'd never even considered his brother capable of.

"Majal?" The boy uttered once again. "Matta? What happened to me?"

*****

"He'd died of course. But what could we do? He'd be trapped a child for the rest of his life. Never aging, never ... he'd have all the yearnings of a man in a body not quite ready to handle the rushes that come with the adult life.
We felt we had to save him from that. To take his head before he was forced to suffer."

"Why?"

"Come on Joe, you've seen what happens. Take Kenny for example. Only very few child-immortals manage to retain their sanity over the centuries. And the ones that do are usually female.
Women seem to be the stronger of the species, no matter their rate of mortality.
The idea of Temie being corrupted was unbearable for either of us."

******

That night Temlan was lying restlessly on his plaid. He quietly slipped out of the tent to look for Methos. Neither his brother nor his mother had wanted to tell him what had happened.

"We have to do it Methos."

"I can't mother. Please don't make me." Methos was practically sobbing at this point.

"Do you want him to live like this? Do you?"

"I don't want him to die."

"Neither do I. But it's for the best."

"No!"
Temlan couldn't stop himself. Totally shocked by his mother's cold words. When they both looked in his direction he didn't wait for explanations and just ran.

That was his mother and she wanted to kill him. Her and Matta.

Methos and Jo'lon immediately followed after him, but Temlan got to the horses and jumped on one of them. For a moment Methos stood there watching, then the tension broke and he jumped on one of the other horses and raced after his brother.
Tears fell over Temlan's eyes. This was the first time in his admitted short life that he really felt alone. The people he loved wanted to kill him, his own mother wanted him death and even Methos ...

He hadn't gotten all that far when he felt Methos following him. He immediately made his horse speed up. A dangerous race went on. Brother against brother. They passed a course they'd raced on plenty of times before. Both knew the route by heart. But this time something was different. This time it wasn't a friendly game but a matter of life or death.
Temlan nearly got away when he forgot one little rock and his horse tripped.

He tried to get up and run away, but his brother had already caught up with him.

"Please Methos." The boy pleaded, "I don't want to die."

Methos tried to be cold looking at his brother while holding his sword in his hands.
"I'm sorry Temie, but it's for the best." Temlan shivered as his brothers sword came down towards him.

*****

"So what happened? You obviously didn't kill him."

"No but I came close." Methos poured himself a beer. "I loved him and I almost killed him."

"So what saved him?"

"I'm still not sure why, but when I saw his eyes looking at me like that. In total betrayal, I couldn't go through with it. I just stopped. He didn't move, didn't look at me. Nothing.
I pulled him on my horse and took him home. He didn't even resist. He still trusted me.
Me!!"

******

Temlan was shivering when he stood in front of his mother. He couldn't utter a single word.

"Temie ..." He turned away, refusing to look at her.

"I'm sorry Temie. But it's for the best."

For a few moments Temlan just stood there. Not saying a word.
"Why?"

"You're immortal Temie. Your first death started the immortality inside you."

"And you're planning to kill me because of that?"

"You're a child Temlan.
It may be fun and games now, but what about tomorrow , next year, next century, ...
You'll never grow any older than you are now. You'll never become much stronger.
Sure you can train, but even that won't do much. Can you live like that? In constant fear?"

"Of what? That you're going to kill me?"

"Not that. There are others like us out there. Many of them will see you as easy prey and will try to kill you because of that. It's part of the Game."

"What game?"

"The Game.
Remember the prophecy, the end times? When the eternal warriors will fight 'till the end when only one is left. And the One will determine the future.
Can you handle that struggle Temlan?"

"I don't know?"

"So you see..."

"What and you won't even give me a chance. Is that it? You think I'm already dead, don't you?"

Jo'lon seemed crestfallen. "I love you Temie ..." She stood frozen, unable to approach her youngest son in his need.

"I love you Temlan ..."

"So what?
I want to live Mother of the night. If you can't understand that then I'll just leave. I'll fight you if I have to. But I won't die easily."

Jo'lon stared at her son, unsure what to do.

"I'll train him Majal." They both stared at Methos. The both of them had momentarily forgotten he was still there.
"He deserves a chance."

The Dograi woman looked at him in shock. Not believing that he'd just resisted one of her orders.
"Good." She answered him with a note of anger in her voice.
"He's your student then. But remember this Methos, you're responsible for him. And I'll pray it won't hurt him to much."
She looked at them, at her sons as they got ready to leave.
"I still love you Temie."

Temlan didn't answer, he didn't even move.

*****

"So he had a bad first dead. That's still no excuse."

"There are no excuses Joe." Methos went and poured himself another beer.
"What Temlan did as Loki, and believe me, every story you've heard is probably true as hell and not even half as bad as he really was, all of it, was my fault."

*****

It was early in the morning and Temlan was enjoying the morning sun. He'd chanted to the spirits and thanked them for their gifts and now he was ready to see to the mortals in his village. He softly hummed as he stepped through the mud that made up the street.

Suddenly something felt wrong. He'd learned to trust his instincts and mentally prepared himself for anything. He didn't increase his pace, but started heading for the chieftains cabin nonetheless. Suddenly it hit him. The sensation of not just one, but four immortals. He raced up to the hills and was just in time to see them standing in the dawn.

Four Horsemen. All masked and dressed in armor.
The Horsemen. War, Famine, Pestilence and Death they called themselves. And they were that and much more to the people at whom they'd struck. Several of the men came up behind the teenage immortal as he stood there watching the nightmare come to life. Terror was etched on their faces. All were ready to run and Temlan wasn't stubborn or arrogant enough to refuse that as the right response. But still he kept standing and when the Horsemen attacked he stood ready to answer their challenge. Soon he was fighting two of them. He recognized them as War and Famine. He knew he could beat them, but still he held back a bit, ready to face the other two as well. The boy could see the third Horseman, Pestilence, standing there, watching the fight. But were was Death?

All of a sudden the white-dressed warrior stood in front of him. The other two backed of a bit. He pulled of his mask and Temlan could see his face. Half of it was covered in blue paint. But he could still recognize it. And it froze him in terror.
Matta. Methos.

For no more than a moment he stood frozen in shock, but in that moment War knocked him out, killing him with his axe. And the last thing the boy saw was his brothers grinning face while the light faded away.

It took hours before the boy woke up again. When he did, he found out he couldn't move. Pain coursed through him at his every move. He felt how something cold and hard was stabbing through his hands and feet. It was holding him to the ground. Warm sand rushed over his face as he lay there, tied to some kind of wooden canvas. He could feel the damped clutter of dried blood on his chest. He tried to look up as he felt the approach of several immortals. But it wasn't necessary. The big one pulled up the canvas and the boy came face to face with them. He could see them clearly through his blood dazed eyes.

The boy remained silent as the Horsemen's scarred leader approached him. The man lifted up his head.

"Nice catch Methos, are you sure you don't want to share?"

Temlan almost looked up at his brother in relief. Methos would get him out of this. He wouldn't let him down. But Methos just grinned and took out his knife.

"Nah, this one's all mine."

And all of Temlan's hope and belief in his brother was shattered as he felt the knife's cold touch in the glowing hot sun as it pierced through his skin.

******

"I tortured him for three days and nights. Played with him, with his pain, his suffering. Joe you can't imagine the suffering an immortal can go through and survive. Things that would have killed a mortal, but that for an immortal are only temporary. I hurt him more than any mortal has ever felt."

Joe couldn't believe it. If what Methos said about the boy trusting him was true then this must have been ...
"How far ... how much ..."

"Think bad, multiply it by one thousand and add some more to it.
I didn't just torture him, I skinned him, inch by inch, by inch. Ever had that happen to you Joe? It's worse than being burned. Then I ... ."
Methos couldn't say any more.

"Why?"

"To protect him."

Joe let out a sarcastic grinnicking.
"To protect him? How could something like that protect him. What worse could have happened?"

Methos sat there silently. Gazing inwardly. "Kronos could have killed him. He could have given him to Caspian. I had to make it convincing. I had to make Kronos believe the boy was no more than an object to relieve my anger on. If he hadn't believed that ... if he'd known what Temlan really was to me ... Temlan would have never survived it. Or worse. And that I could not allow."

Joe suddenly reminded himself of Bordeaux. How Methos had allowed Kronos to capture Cassandra. He hadn't actually cared about what happened to the woman. All she'd been to him was way to get Mac angry enough to face Kronos. No she was more to him. But when it came down to it, Methos didn't shy away from hurting someone to get the results he wanted. Even with people he cared about. Even with himself. To the old man pain was just a tool.

"So your torturing led him to becoming Loki?"
"In a way. To be honest, it wasn't really the torturing. If Kronos or Caspian would have done it, he would have gotten over it. If it had been a stranger, it wouldn't even have been worth mentioning. But the fact that it was me doing it, hurting him, that's what drove him insane."

*****

Methos could see the boy writhe under his hands. Kronos looked at it in wild arousal. Soon the man would be to occupied by other thoughts to be aware of his real plan. He quickly looked around. There were quite a few slaves in the camp but only two immortal ones. Silas' woman and Kronos' girl. Danni. He'd be furious if she got away.

Pretending to leave to get some more toys, he went to prepare some things.
He wasn't sure but finally he decided on a knife, it would be just right. Not to sharp, but enough to give the girl the right idea. He was careful to leave the knife near her sleeping place. It wouldn't do to have Kronos find out he was even remotely involved with the girls escape. All day he waited for her to act while seeming occupied with the boy.

It was nightfall before something happened. He could see her sneak away but didn't alarm anyone. He didn't care if she were caught, all that mattered was that she wasn't caught too soon. It could ruin his entire plan.
But fate deals a hard hand. When he got back to Temlan, ready to warn the boy of his plan he was missing. Leaving nothing but ropes, blood and gore.
And behind his eyes the Horseman cried, for he knew this would not be understood. Not now, not anymore.

*****

The next few months Methos waited for something to happen. To hear something from Temlan. It was useless. The rest of his life was as usual. Kronos had been furious when he found out the two slaves had escaped. Especially about his Danni. He hadn't been bored with her yet. He even pretended to understand Methos' annoyance for taking his plaything with her. Enjoying himself with his brother for losing their properties.

It didn't take long for Methos to get the hang of things. Everything soon turned back to normal. They rode, they fought, they killed. They took everything they wanted not caring one bit about anyone else. And when they rode in a village and everyone ran in fear they enjoyed their victims panic. Indulging themselves in a feeling of power unparalleled with anything they could feel anywhere else.

But more and more often other reports reached them. Someone beat them to their targets. Once one of their victims even seemed relieved that it were only the Horsemen attacking them and not Loki. It infuriated Kronos to no end. How could they do this? How could they fear someone else more than they feared the Horsemen? But no matter how many spies he sent out, the only thing he found was what Loki left behind him. Corpses, ruins and pain.

Part three

Some things never changed. Some time hundreds, thousands of years from now, children would still fight with their best friends. They'd still yell and hit and then forgive one another and go and have fun.
Nekron tapped softly on the table in front of him. It had seemed wooden when he'd sat down, but now that he had a better look he knew that was just an illusion. Small ripples formed in the contents of the untouched glass in front of him.

Tap
Tap

They were arguing, but laughing at the same time.
His hand trembled, tapping his leg. His feet stood anchored on the hardwood floor. He could feel his heart drumming in his chest as the drip of liquid from his spoon hit his plate.

*****

The sun had risen high in the sky, creating long shadows of the huts and trees. Neke jumped up, trying to keep his friend from catching his shadow. Rade ran after him and Neke made a quick turn, running straight at Rade. They both fell down laughing, their shadows joined on the sand as they wrestled to be the first one to get up.

"Neke!"

He could hear his mother call his name as Rade's mom yelled for him. They let go of one another and Neke rushed to his parents hut. He pushed the pig out of the way as he went in and sat down at the table next to his mother.

The lanky dark woman didn't share his cheerfulness. She was trying to slice a piece of bread for him, but her hand was shaking while doing so. Nekron sat down next to her, but didn't ask what was wrong. Suddenly he could hear loud voices in the back. His father and some of the other men. He could recognize the chief and the shaman.

"We can't just give our children to that monster!"
They suddenly all started whispering, and it frightened the little boy even more. Neke hunched back and tried to eat, but his meal just wouldn't sink in.

Some time later he could hear the chief coming up to him. The man lifted his head and said: "Don't worry Neke, we won't let Loki get you."

"You won't?" Neke held on to his mothers hand, feeling the cold sweat on her palm.

"No. We can't give in to something like Loki. Nekron might have been a foundling once, but he's a member of the tribe now and we don't betray our kin."

In the following days barriers were pulled up and guards were appointed. The children were forbidden to leave the town's clearing. And all day you could hear the yelling of one adult on another as the kids ran in the way again. You could hear the women's low chatter and hear it fall down when the kids came near to them.

Then one morning one of the women didn't come back from water hauling. They didn't immediately panic, not until it was noon and she still hadn't shown.
Nekron watched as all did, when seven hunters went out to look for the woman. He watched them kiss their wives or mothers goodbye, a look of foreboding on their faces as they left the open clearing. The boy was told to stay inside with his mother, but he couldn't help sneaking a peek when they came back. They had the woman's body with them. She was hidden from sight, but there was a silent horror in the men's eyes.
Guard duties were intensified, women were forbidden to leave the town without a guard to watch them, but still people kept turning up missing and eventually dead.

No one even considered giving Neke to Loki. One man even mentioned it in passing, he wasn't talked to for days. Too many people had died to let their sacrifice be for naught. Neke trembled in his bed. Unable to find sleep. In his dreams the demon kept hounding him, he saw the faces of the dead blaming him.
His mother was always there to comfort him, to tell him everything would be alright, but he could see the lie in her eyes.

********

Nekron could see his reflection on the window. A shaded half self. He refused to meet his watcher's eyes as he ordered for both of them. Davis accepted it but kept staring at him as if expecting some kind of explanation. The watcher could wait till all hell froze over as far as he was concerned.
It wasn't his business.
For an instant, just one moment, the immortal wondered how much the watchers knew about him, or about Loki for that matter.

He let his finger sip a trail through his water. The transparent liquid felt wet, clinging on to his hand. Drips fell down on the support he was putting his hand on. He created a symbol of water on the hard glass.

*******

Neke woke up from the noises around the towns hall. He stuck his head out of the room to listen as his father left the hut. Once again pain and death brought a biter morning call.

Rade was waiting for him outside and the children ran up to the towns hall. Neke and some of the other kids stared at the proceedings through peepholes in the wall. The adults had tried to keep the happenings a secret from them. But after the third relative, or friend that disappeared, that was found dead, they to understood the stakes all to well.
Each of them waited terrified that this time it had been their father, their mother, their brother or sister who'd been lost.

Their was a strange boy lying on the table, huddled in rags. Neke could hear the whispers of the caravan that had been found, the boy in front of them was it's only survivor. The shaman loomed over the boy as he slowly removed the rags from the wounds and stared up in shock. He never even got a chance to run. The old man was the first to die. His death was fast and painless. The boy that had seemed close to death only moments before rose up from the table. Knives appeared in his hand as if by magic. They brought death to the others surrounding their owner.

"Loki." The chieftain muttered. The boy grinned and Neke could feel a cold weight reach out to his spine at the sight.

"I will have my prey." was all the monster said.

Some people tried to run, it gave them a few seconds more of life. Nekron and the other boys ran too. Wind whistled by his ears, he took a few turns, hoping to lose his pursuer. He could hear some of his friends call out warnings, telling the others of the monster amongst them. Nekron didn't care, he was to scared to care. He prayed the man wouldn't come after him and pushed his body in the hiding place that his father had made under the wall, pulling a bunch of furs over his body.
His heart beat raged in his chest as he stared through the peephole waiting for his hunter to come.

*******

Nekron pulled out the picture, a screen capture. It was a bit hazy, but Nekron would recognize the monster from his eyes alone. He ordered two more drinks and eyed through the papers that Davis had finally handed over. They were a bit hazy but Nekron could recognize the monster from those eyes alone.

Thomas Moore
Estimated age: 600+
First teacher: Hugh Fitzcairne
Contacts: Lilin (see file A23FKS)
Matthew Moore (see file BKSST3)

Lilin, the bitch was still with him. The traitress...
How could she possibly still tolerate the monster?

"Lies. All of it." he slammed the files on the table.
"Lies he created, to hide himself from justice and to hunt in secret."

John stared at him with weary eyes as if unsure what to think.
"Don't all of you lie, sort of?"

"Not like this, not like him." Nekron wasn't sure how to say it, how to make this clear. How to explain the horror that this monster made flesh represented to everyone. Instead he said nothing.

*******

The little boy woke up in the ruins, staring up at the man hovering over him. The man could barely bare to look at him. Neke started shaking, ravaged with guilt at the sight of his devastated tribe. The man pulled him out without saying a single word. The living had to come first.

His hands were harsh, there was blood on the ground next to where he'd been hiding. Whose body had been there moments before? Neke could see the others dragging bodies to the burn pyres The only honor the survivors could do for their loved ones remains.

He could see Melana, her husband was cradling her in his arms, sobbing softly. Nekron quickly turned his eyes away from the big man that had never before cried in his life. His eyes hit the others, their wounds, their dead. Every little thing of it forever burned in his soul.

"Even Death stood at our side today." his uncle whispered.
"He stood up to the demon, fighting for your life."
The man continued more to himself than to the boy.
"What makes you so important. What makes you worth this."

Neke could feel his heart freezing in his chest, he could give no answer.

Part 4

"Hello Brother."
Methos froze in the door. Temlan could practically feel the surprise come flowing from his older brother's mind.

The boy poured in a glass and pushed it at the older man. Older, both in years and looks. He couldn't help feel a tinge of jealousy at the older mans appearance. Why couldn't he have been more careful, why did he have to be the one to be stuck in this body. There were times that he wanted to see how Methos would deal with things if he were the one to constantly have to deal with this body, with these hormones running through him all the time.

"So how did your talk go?"

"Nekron's in town."
Temlan groaned in annoyance. All of it fed by the chuckle that came from his brother. Why couldn't that man just give up, leave him alone. Wasn't letting him live after each battle enough to show the boy that a fight like this was useless.

"Oh come on Temie. This one 'is' all your fault. You do realize that."

Why for letting the kid live instead of letting him go time and time again? Yeah it was his fault. But he couldn't make himself kill him. The last reminder of his insanity, of his stupidity.
"If only his plots of vengeance weren't so damn ..."

"Suicidal?"

"Well that too, but I was going to say bothersome."
Temlan stared down, a bit annoyed to be caught out like that.

There was something else though, something that really bothered his older brother.
"Methos?"

"Joe knows."

Of all things, and with the Watchers friendship to his brother he couldn't even get rid of the mortal just by killing him. Ah well, another history down the drain and time to leave once again.

"You're leaving? Damnit Temlan, just like that, gone? Why? It's just Joe."
But Methos knew better than to wait for an answer to that one.
"You haven't even met Mac yet."

Temlan's scowl should have sent him running for cover, but the older immortal knew better than that.
"Trying to kill him to hurt his teacher, does not count Temlan." Methos smiled after that.
"And don't pout. You've got neither the eyes or lips for it."

"Just shut up."

*******

Joe blew on the glasses, lifting it to the light for a second. Almost looking for a sign, a hint of what to do.

He's a monster.
A creature of evil habits, living to cause destruction.
And we don't interfere. We don't interfere, no matter how dangerous he is, how many people he's killed, how many he will kill. But is that any excuse to break the oath, to go in against non-interference?
Methos was a killer once, he still is.
They both stopped, both of them for 3.000 years.
But then ... the boy hadn't stopped, not really.

His eyes tried to ignore the files in front of him. Random killings across the centuries. Reasonless, except for the one performing the killing. Most of the time there had been no direct proof, no reason to align the murders to Loki. But ... there had been signs, hints that once brought together painted a picture of blood more horrible than anything a horror adept could think of.

Earlier in the century a researcher with more time on his hands than he had common sense, had kept himself busy cataloguing these cases, bringing them together. He'd been the first one to come to the same conclusion that Joe now had to come to as well.

Loki still lived.

The researcher had died, he'd killed himself.
One day he'd just gotten up, walked to the top of the stairs, went up to the roof and jumped of the building with no previous warnings. He'd left a family behind, a wife, children.
No one had understood why he would have done it.

Joe couldn't think of a reason either even as he looked through the files, looking at pictures of the woodcuttings.
Loki's symbol, his sign.
This wasn't just your average immortal, it was a psychopath, a ruthless killer who's heart was rotten to the core. Someone who gained pleasure from torturing innocent children in front of their parents, breaking people in fear and pain.

A weird contrast to the companionable kid Methos had introduced him too.

He should just follow the rules of the Omega rule that Loki had been under for over three millennia now. Once spotted, the immortal was to be left alone at all cost. The watcher in question had to report in with the information of his location and stay out of sight till the council had dealt with the threat. Only the Omega rule allowed that kind of action. There were very few immortals that got it used on them, the ones that were, most of them were death within the year of being subjected to it.

Methos had been under it for a short while, till Joe had proven that he'd broken his ties with the Horsemen. Kalas, after he had the disc, Mac, during that Galati mess. The Omega rule allowed the watcher council to summarily execute the immortal it was imposed on. And it was damn rare.

But hadn't Loki deserved it.
He was evil, if he won the price, could humanity take that risk?

*******

Temlan stood froze in the shadows, his presence cloaked in silence. The boy took a few borderline frantic breaths. He couldn't let Nekron kill him and he wouldn't kill the younger immortal, even as he knew beyond reason that Nekron would neither forget nor give up.

The immortal boy couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it as he chewed on the rope binding a small amulet around his neck. Nekron was only a threat to him in as far as he allowed the younger immortal to be a threat. He could take him any time, kill him whenever he wanted to ...Only... he didn't ... want to.

His eyes still held the glare of a predator as he drove through the city streets, noting down each and every spot for their uses and comparing them with the map in his head.

He didn't care much about anything as he stopped near Joe. His watcher was still searching for a parking spot as he entered the bar. Dawson didn't even try and say something about his apparent age as he marched up to the bar. Somehow that bothered him even more than being carded usually did.

The watcher stood still behind the bar, his hands empty, but ready to grab out for something. Probably for the gun lying underneath the counter if he tried anything.

"Loki."

"Try Temlan. You know how kids are with nicknames, I haven't even used it in ages."

The watcher stood up, his hands holding the counter for balance. Damn Methos, if not for him this could be over so easily.

"What do you want?"
Not curiosity but cold caution to rest behind the question and await an answer. Temlan brushed off his annoyance and sat down.

"Let's see..."
He forced himself to put an amused tone in his voice.
"what I want... Your firstborn child?"
The Watchers breath held still for a second.
"No... Methos likes her too much."
Still no humor.
"Your legs?
No someone beat me to those, didn't they?"
Rage almost blew through the Watchers mask of indifference.
"I guess I'll have to settle for a beer."

Gotcha!
The watcher was practically fuming by that time. Emotions were always better than the lack of them. Like they say, the opposite of love isn't hate ... it's indifference. And anything was better than that.

"Oh cool it already.
I give you my word Watcher, I won't kill for the rest of the day.
Scout's honor."

"Your word." Dawson spat out the words.
"So what does the word of a 5.000 year old psychopath mean these days?"

Temlan grabbed for his heart in a wide melodramatic gesture.
"Joe my boy. I'm not Methos. I'll never be Methos.
Now I may not be some wise and shiny elder with tons of wisdom, but there's one thing that I and Methos are very different on. I have never broken my word in all my life. Just ask my brother, he can vouch for me."
Temlan gave the watcher a wide open smile.

The Watcher's face seemed frozen in a fight against a grin.
"Now can I please have a beer?"

Part Five

Methos didn't bother to hide for the other immortal. He just glanced up from the bed, lifting the beer he'd swiped from the mini-fridge in the corner. Nekron stared at him with wide open eyes, like a deer caught in the spotlights.

Methos threw him the second beer, Nekron was too surprised not to grab for it. The immortal stared at the beer that he was now holding and then returned his gaze to him.

"Death."

Methos poor down the last remnants of the beer.
"Try Matthew Moore.
Death's a ... tad bit out of date."

"John leave."
Nekron didn't even turn to his watcher as he gave the command. The mortal off course tried to refuse, but it was clear his immortal wouldn't let him.
"Go John, I'll be fine."

Methos just smiled as the watcher gave him one last glare before leaving the room. Methos motioned Nekron to the chair and the younger immortal sat down. Waiting for him to say something it seemed.

"Loki-hunting again kid?"

"So what?"
Mild arrogance in his tone. Methos wished he could help him get rid of it, but knew it was far too late for that.

"You're getting on his nerves boy. That's not a safe thing to do."
Nekron turned him a perfect duh and Methos could almost like him for it. Almost.
"What is it with you boy scout types?"

*******

John kept to himself as he turned back to his room. He shirked up as he felt a hand pushed to his mouth. He froze for a second before starting to struggle. It didn't work as he was pulled into a small room.

The hand left and the man it belonged to put a finger to his mouth, begging him for silence. John stared at his captors in shock. There were five of them, he recognized three.
Watcher operatives.

"Marsten? What the hell do you vultures want now?"

He hadn't seen any of them since his trial for breaking his oath. He knew they didn't like him, well ... the feeling was damn mutual.

"Same as always Davis. Taking care of Watcher business."

John could feel his mouth dry up.

"Why?"
Had they found out about his tampering with the chronicles? Had they discovered that he'd given information to Nekron? But damn it, Colbridge had been killing children. At least thanks to Nekron no more mothers would cry out over the bodies of their sons. No more little boys would sit in fear and die in agony.

"Don't worry Johnny boy, we're here on an Omega directive."

And the world fell still. God no, Nekron.
"I won't ... I won't let you..."

"Chill out Davis. We're not here for your boy scout."
John hadn't even been aware of the breath he'd been holding.
"Unless as bait to finally get our hands on Loki."

John almost chuckled at his own reaction of fear. Off course they were after Loki. Hell he was the reason the Omega directive had been created in the first place.
"You actually think you can take him?"
He snickered at the thought. To take out Loki, how could they even hope to succeed where hundreds of generations before them had failed.

"Nekron can't. You know it as well as we do. Come on John. Let us save your immortal's life."

"He won't like it."
He'd see it as a smudge on his honor, a vulnerability and worst of all, a betrayal.

"He doesn't have to. He isn't even supposed to know."
And once again John could hear Marsten's dislike of him. But so what if Nekron knew. All that mattered was his immortals life. This might just be a game for Marsten and his buddies. But to Nekron ... it was his life.

"What do you want me to do?"

*******

Methos stared at the boy in front of him. Was that what MacLeod would have been headed too? Stubborn, thickheaded, vengeance crazed.

No, even at almost a tenth of Nekrons age Mac was more of a man than Nekron had ever been. And a lot more reasonable at that. Mac had been welded on an anvil from his first days of immortality. He'd learned his lessons quick and brutally.

Nekron might not even have a clue about it, but Temlan had been protecting him, keeping him safe, keeping him innocent in a way. Had he really been doing the boy a favor?
Methos doubted it.

Over 3.000 years, but in many ways a child to the world.
And whether Temlan liked it or not, that childishness would come to cost him

Part 6

It was a long time to go till dawn. A long time till judgment. And again he wondered what he'd done wrong to have this happen to him. The shaman was a wise man, so maybe he knew what was going on. But how could he, if even Nekron himself didn't know. Was he truly evil? A demon in human form? Then why didn't he know that himself?

He'd made no deals, listened to no spirits. He hadn't gone to the witch and asked her to brew him a potion.
So what was this ... this curse that had held him back of the sacred fields.
He'd felt the sword pierce him, he'd gasped for air as darkness grabbed a hold of him.
Was this what Loki had wanted to kill him for when he was a child? This cursed fate, damned to walk even after death and be forbidden to enter paradise.

At the fall of dawn they'd come for him, what for would depend of the shaman.
There had been such fear in his uncle's eyes. Such petrified fear as the man was washing his body for burial, only to see him sit up and open his eyes. To see a dead body rise up like that...
And even then, even in his fear his uncle had spoken up for him. His uncle had begged them for mercy.
After all, they only had each other left now.

His hand tingled where the ropes cut into his wrist. Little bursts of lightening played around it. He could hear the drums echo outside of the thin walls of the hut. The horns played in, asking the Gods for salvation against the evil amongst them.
Shouldn't he be trying to escape? He was innocent, he had to be, or would it be taken out of his memory, this crime of his.

Dawn was miles away, and he was left alone with nothing but himself to face.

******

As a young boy Temlan had loved to watch the sheep. To hold the lambs in his hand and wash them before returning them to their mothers. He'd taken his flute and played for them, a simple lullaby to hold the spirits away. His brother had sat next to him, minding his bow while Temlan had simply thought of nothing but the pureness of the descending sun, offering it's last warmth before nightfall.

He'd known nothing then.
The boy he'd been, hadn't known of the power of blood. The way it could pierce the veils of reality and show what was to come. An innocent child that played and laughed unaware of the death that would follow in his trail.

He whispered a sweet lullaby to the trembling lamb in his hands. Brushing through it's fur as it tried to get out of his grip. His words, whispered softly in it's ear, did nothing to sooth the beast. He held it close to his heart, steadying it in his grip as he pulled the knife closer, carefully slitting the animals throat.
It's blood gushed over him, pouring over his hands. He dipped his fingers further into the wound, painting his hands in it's red. The beasts heart was still grabbing as he pulled it out. It's life blood poured over him.

It flowed with the rhythm of death forming dark symbols he'd learned to read at his mother's fire. Symbols written in entrails and gore. A sacrifice of innocence to dark gods that would hopefully grant him insight. It wasn't perfect, but he couldn't afford to perform the true ritual. Children were hard to come by these days.

He brought his wet hands to his eyes, letting the blood tell the story, seeing as it dripped over his nose and chin. Darkness enclosed the vision as it had done so many times before the dark world closed off to him. The lamb stared at him with dead eyes even colder than his own heart. The blood stuck deep, even water couldn't wash it away. No matter how hard he scrubbed it would always be there joining with all the blood of his other sacrifices.

*******

"Don't worry Lise. I'll be careful."
Another lie, another small nail in the coffin of her trust. He stared up at the immortal in the garden, feeling a deep hatred enter him. Was this what the hunters had felt when they killed Darius? Was this why their disgust could lead them into the hatred that had become their graves?

Loki, perversion of innocence. Monster in the body of a child.
God!
But what kind of God would answer the prayers of the monster as it practically made love with the stench of blood surrounding it. There was a sense of an ancientness surrounding the deceiver.

This was what the watchers were there for.
To see this, the past in living color. No matter how much it disgusted him.

It was so easy to get bored by their duty, to see nothing but the everyday. To see Them as humans, and to forget...

The monster looked his way, Marsten's heart beat a thousand, it could not, should not see him, yet with this ... he could never be sure. And it turned to him, it never even moved.

Only then did he see a bloodied knife heading his way. Marsten tried to jump out of the way, but he was frozen in his place. A loud sound, much louder to his ears, than it actually had been, hit the wood behind him. His hand went to his head and he turned around, a single lock of hair had accompanied the knife.

The boy still sat there, as if he'd never even moved.

********

Doubt could not exist. Neither could hesitation. His moves were fluent, exact to a point. They had to be. So what was it that felt so wrong. He moved faster than he'd ever done, but it wasn't enough to break his unease.

What was that beat, that note out of tone that broke into every move he made.
A strange heartbeat, so close to his own.
The knife ended up over the man, instead of inside of him.
A warning.
He doubted they'd take it for the mercy it was.

He listened to the sun, making it a part of him;
Oh what a day.
Methos, Nekron, the watchers.
Damn all of it, Methos most of all.

An end had to be made though. An end to Nekron's hunt, to the kid's obsession. But how?
Was dead really the only answer?
There had to be.

Part seven

The Watchers grabbed their guns, two held their swords aloft they scented blood. They'd listen carefully to their orders, theirs affairs were all taken care of before leaving headquarters.

Nekron held his sword, bringing it up in front of him. The time had come. he kissed the blade revenantly before placing it inside his coat. Finally it was time.

Across town Methos dragged himself into Joe's a grim look on his face. The matter was now out of his hands.

John Davis bowed his head praying to his god begging for understanding. Tears fought behind his eyes. Even if they'd asked, he couldn't have told anyone why.

******

And the boy faced nightfall. Alone in silence.
He sat still, waiting.
A man barged into his sanctuary, yet the boy stayed down on his knees.

"I am Nekron."

The boy just stayed seated, his back turned to his guest.

"Is it time then?"

Nekron could feel shivers trail across his spine. He could almost feel the world spinning around them.
Yet the deceiver never even moved, a statue of flesh and bones.

"You..."

"For what it counts boy ..." The deceiver finally turned to him, stripes of blood smeared across his face.
"I am sorry."

Nekron just lifted his sword. Too late for apologies, too late for anything but death.
Death and vengeance.

*******

Glass crashed around them. Marsten held up his hand, making the others stand back as he headed onwards.
He had to see, had to know...

Nekron was held in the sky, his screams an agony beyond despair. A whirlwind played around him, holding him up against the roof.

Marsten could barely make out a limp form in the background.
There was no mercy in the unfailing attacks of the lightening coming from the ground, hitting the surviving immortal.
No hate was left in the immortal's eyes.
Merely pain begging for release.

The watcher stared, held in rapt awe at this most private of moments. Strikes flowed around him destroying both glass and walls while shattering everything in it's path.
An image formed in fire.
A symbol.
The symbol of Loki.

Marsten knew enough and turned away.

Epilogue

Joe barely managed to keep his eyes of Methos as he put down the phone.
There had been dozens of messages like this over time.
Watchers dead, the family had to be told. Immortals died, ... Mac or Methos had to know....
But this ...

He looked at Methos in compassion. The immortal caught his eyes, grabbed his coat and got ready to leave before he could say a word.
"Methos..."
But the ancient wouldn't want to talk. He wouldn't want to say a word.
"If you ... I'd understand."

"No Joe, you wouldn't..."

He sat back down again though.

"He was ... my shadow. My little brother following my trail. My past, that I could never get rid off."

Methos stared at his beer.

"Joe. It's like ... a part of me is gone and I haven't quite lost that feeling that it's still there. Somehow.... Ghost-pain. For five thousand years he was there, not with me, but there nonetheless. The one stable thing in a changing world. He was there...
I..."

His head shot up, making a full turn as he stared at the door, the man entering the bar. Nekron seemed angry, nothing new as far as Methos was concerned. Methos rose off his chair turning his whole body to face the intruder. Nekron lashed out with such force knocking Methos to the floor. Joe was trapped behind the bar helplessly watching the scene unfold in front of him.

"What did he to me?"

Understanding pole axed Methos, almost making him collapse again.
"That little bastard." he muttered.

Nekron continued as if Methos had never spoken.
"He hit me with something, somehow, making me feel, see ....."
He grabbed Methos by his jumper. "Feel!"

Methos broke out in an almost uncontrollable laughter.
"That damn bloody bastard has done it again. Gods, some days I could hate him."

But it wasn't hate that came out of him as he got up, it was a form of relief beyond measure.

"So what are you going to do now boy?"

Nekron let go.
"He used me. He used me!"

Methos just nodded.

"And I can't even hate him for it. His powers, he showed me what happened, why ... And I can't even hate him any more."

As Temlan had known it would. Nekron had been molded on an anvil of righteousness. He was too good and true to go in against that understanding of genuine regret.

And even as the younger immortal got up and got ready to leave, turning back one last time.

"I hated him Death. I hated him for so long. Who am I, if I can't even hate him anymore."

Methos just got up, his voice soft and gentle.

"You're you. "

The end