CHAPTER 40
Methos sat back and rubbed his eyes. He'd tapped into the Watcher database to check on immortals in his immediate vicinity. When he finished, he decided out of curiosity to see what was going on with MacLeod and the others. Not that he had any intention of looking any of them up in the foreseeable future, and not that he would admit he cared. He couldn't afford to care. He was simply curious he told himself.
MacLeod and Amanda had been on the move continually since the day they'd left Tennessee. They'd crisscrossed between the U.S. and Canada, and were now in Paris. He wondered what was up with that. The Watcher assigned to Amanda thought they were looking for someone. He didn't have to wonder whom. Since Joe had been the one to track him down in South America, it was obvious they were looking for Beth, but the question was why? She'd made her choice. "MacLeod probably thinks he can fix this." Methos shook his head at his friend's Boy Scout notions. "It's his time, he can waste it if he wants."
He looked back at the screen and thought he'd see what became of his student. Claudia was in New York according to her Watcher. "Not much of a challenge to guess where Richie is." He mused, still looking him up to confirm what he already knew.
Methos raised one eyebrow and took a deep, lazy swig of his beer when he saw the report that Richie had vanished. "MacLeod isn't going to like this." He said out loud, knowing that just over a month ago his first impulse would be to call Joe or to check it out himself. But that was then. "It's not my problem." He decided as he picked up his coat and checked the lining.
It had been a week since he'd arrived in Chicago. He'd had one battle, but the coward jumped into the river and disappeared. Seems like most of the immortal's he thought he'd find here had decided to winter in a better climate. He had to agree with the notion, having been chilled to the bone on more than one occasion since he got to the city.
Double checking the map with the address he'd found on the database, Methos pulled his collar up against the cold and stepped out of his motel room to find one more in the long line of heads he needed to collect before the prize would be his. He didn't let his mind stray to thoughts of what he would do when he could no longer avoid MacLeod and the others. There was no hurry, and by the time he made his way to them he decided he would be so close to the prize he wouldn't let any emotions he might still have, get in the way.
It was just after 8 and he knew enough about his next target's schedule to know it was her usual habit to spend the early evening at a brewery on Chicago Avenue near the river. It was only a few blocks from the warehouse flat she had that overlooked the river . an area that at night would be all but deserted.
When he walked through the front door, he felt the sensation that let him know she was there. His eyes scanned the room before focusing on the crystal blue eyes near the back.
Born in 1803, Ellen Hanley hailed from County Limerick in Ireland. The daughter of a poor farmer and his wife, she'd grown up on the banks of the Shannon River, the same river her husband had her body dumped into after he had grown tired of her and had his hired man shoot her with a musket. She was barely 16 years old and had only been married to him a few months when her world came crashing down. She left Ireland far behind a few years later, but Ellen never really got over that complete betrayal and although she'd had many lovers in the almost 200 years since becoming immortal, she never let any of them get too close.
"Ellen my darlin'" one of the young men sitting at the crowded table said in his best imitation of Irish brogue. "Won't ya give me one little kiss? Or do I dare ask ya for a dance?"
Ellen laughed and tossed her light blonde hair behind her shoulder as she shook her head and poured him a fresh mug from the pitcher of beer on the table. "Every night you ask me the same thing Scott."
"And every night you tell me some day I'll get that dance." He replied with a grin.
"And some day ya shall Scotty, some day ya shall." She teased, her smile staying on her face as she felt the presence come through the door.
The others at the table hardly noticed her attention turning to the tall man who walked into the pub, but Scott didn't miss the way her eyes locked with the stranger's.
"A friend of yours?" he asked, getting her attention again.
"Friend? No ." she tried to brush him off "He just looked like someone I know. Now drink your beer before it goes flat."
Scott drained the mug and was pouring another as Ellen took advantage of his distraction to further study the immortal who sat at the bar casually watching her.
Methos studied her as he sipped a bottle of amber ale. She looked like a college kid, her blond hair tucked behind her ears and her fair complexion almost devoid of any makeup. Clearly the center of attention with the group clustered around her table, he could almost believe she was the young innocent she appeared. But it was her eyes that told the story. Yes they sparkled as she laughed and conversed with her crowd, but the years shown in their depths as well. More than once when she glanced his way, he saw her sizing him up and it was then he recognized it. A fellow skeptic.
Almost half an hour passed and Methos had just ordered his second ale when she decided it was time to find out more about the immortal who seemed so interested in her presence. She bummed some quarters from her friend Peter and crossed behind him to the jukebox beside the bar. Her eyes scanned the selections for a long minute before she felt him come to stand beside her.
She was a little surprised when after a minute of silence he reached across the box and pushed a selection on her quarter, confirming what she already suspected with his choice . The Rolling Stones, "Sweet Little Sixteen".
"I'd introduce myself, but it appears you already know who I am." She said.
Methos didn't reply as she continued to stare at the titles. "I know why you are here, but you'll have to wait. Two quarters buys me 3 songs. You'll forgive me if I pick the next two myself."
He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, giving her some room. Methos couldn't help the smirk when she selected the next song, Billy Idol, "Adam in Chains"
"I am impressed." He commented.
"Word gets around." She replied as she continued to search for her final selection. "I got a call from Riley Quinn two days ago." She looked up at him directly. "You remember him? The one that got away?" reminding him of how he let his opponent escape into the river.
"I don't recall introducing myself." He noted, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning against the wall.
"You didn't have to. Like I said, word gets around." She replied flatly. "You're the buzz of the Watcher network Adam Pierson, or didn't you know that?"
"And what may I ask is the buzz?" He asked.
"Ex-watcher who hid his immortality for years inside the organization. Mild mannered, unassuming and of no real notice until about a year and a half ago when the truth of your immortality came out . after taking a head." She continued. "Still not that remarkable until a few months ago when your wife betrayed you . on your wedding night no less, and you've been on a wild tear ever since."
Methos didn't appreciate knowing his private affairs were now well known among the watchers and whoever else had access to their dealings, and it showed on his face. The calm almost nonchalant attitude he'd been carrying since he walked in the door glazed over, and when Ellen looked up into his face she saw his anger . and despite his efforts to deny it, his pain.
"You're not the only one it's happened to ya know." She said, looking back down into the glow of the jukebox. Methos continued to lean against the wall without replying. In his mind he knew she was talking about herself, but what could she understand of his pain? He knew from the watcher's files that her husband had her killed after a few months of marriage, but she'd been not much more than a child at the time. What did she know of real love . deep love . the kind of love you'd give your life for?
"Are you going to be all night?" he asked impatiently.
His words touched a nerve in her.
-----------December, 1819 County Limerick--------------
"Are you going to be all night?" John Scanlon pounded on the door of his wife's private room as he waited for her to join him in his bed.
Ellen clutched her nightgown in her shaking hands as she stared at the door. Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried desperately to think of a way to escape. But the windows were barred shut and she knew he could easily break down the door if she took too long.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. When she'd met John Scanlon, the son of noble parents, he'd been dashing and handsome and more than a dream come true for a commoner such as herself. Her young life had been a difficult one since the death of her mother and her father's inability to care for her. Thankfully her uncle had taken her in. He'd been good to her, but he couldn't help her now. No one could.
On the night she married John Scanlon, she hadn't hesitated to go to his bed. And even in the next few nights, she continued to welcome him into her arms, despite the pain. She'd been told by her Aunt and a few of her friends that it would hurt at first. It was to be expected. What she didn't know until weeks later was that what her new husband was doing to her was meant to induce pain and humiliation. He thrived on torturing her and relished every cry and whimper of protest. And now he was bored of even that. She'd heard the hushed voices in the next room and she knew that what she'd endured in the privacy of their room was now meant to be displayed in front of others.
"God help me. I'd rather be dead." She bit her lip, tasting the blood as she tried to silence her cries. She'd no sooner pulled the nightgown over her body than her husband grew impatient. He pushed open the door and his friends followed. But God must have heard her plea because just as they began to have their way with her, her stomach wretched and she expelled it's contents all over them.
"You damned bitch." Scanlon raged as his repulsed friends left him alone with the disgusting creature that had fallen into a puddle on the floor. He backhanded her so hard that it propelled her across the room and against the wall, her head hitting it with a sickening crack that rendered her unconscious. When she awoke she was still covered in her own bile, her blond hair matted against her face. Brushing it away from her eyes, she focused on the figure before her and shrank back against the wall when she realized it was Scanlon.
"Why do you think I married you?" John Scanlon hissed. "Did you think I married you because I loved you? Or because of your fair face?" He didn't wait for her to reply as he pinned her shoulders to the wall. "I married you because you were common. Because you were nothing and because I had no use for the frivolity that comes with marrying one of the petted cows my father expected. I married you because I expect you to do as I say, when I say and with whom I say."
Ellen shook her head as the impact of his words tore the last shred of feeling from her heart. At that moment she wanted him to strike her again. She wanted to feel the blow of the wood against her skull that would let her sink into complete oblivion. She prayed when it did that she would never wake. "No ." She whispered in a shaking voice. "I won't . I won't"
Scanlon started to backhand her again, but the thought of touching her again with his own hands sickened him. "Get dressed. You'll not be spending another night under my roof." He ordered her.
Shocked and relieved, Ellen did as he bid and in a few minutes had washed herself, dressed and packed her few belongings in a travel case. When she came downstairs she was surprised to see her husband's man Stephen Sullivan at the door. "I'm to take ye across the river." He stammered, the liquor on his breath apparent. Ellen started to hesitate, but decided it would be better to get away from here any way she could than to risk any more of her husband's anger.
Willingly she followed. It wasn't until they were halfway across the River Shannon when she realized her mistake. Stephen reached beneath the seat of the boat, pulled out a musket, and before she could even scream he'd blown a hole in her chest. The last thing she remembered was the cold water of the river embracing her in its depths.
"You're only postponing the inevitable." Methos' voice broke into her thoughts.
"And maybe you shouldn't be so eager, or so certain." She replied, finally pushing the buttons for her selection before turning her back on him and walking to the table she'd left behind. Methos didn't recognize the song. It was simple and slow. The tune played on a blues saxophone filled the bar as she walked to her friend Scott and held out her hand.
Scott almost spit out his beer in surprise before taking her hand and letting her pull him to her feet and into her arms. Ellen held him tight and ran her hands up and down his arms and back as she pressed herself against him and gave him the dance of his life. And when the last notes played out, she surprised her friend once again by taking his face in her hands and kissing him deeply, slowly and completely. He was still swimming in the moment when she stepped away, retrieved her coat and walked out into the night.
*NOTE* Ellen's character loosely taken from the legend of The Colleen Bawn
Methos sat back and rubbed his eyes. He'd tapped into the Watcher database to check on immortals in his immediate vicinity. When he finished, he decided out of curiosity to see what was going on with MacLeod and the others. Not that he had any intention of looking any of them up in the foreseeable future, and not that he would admit he cared. He couldn't afford to care. He was simply curious he told himself.
MacLeod and Amanda had been on the move continually since the day they'd left Tennessee. They'd crisscrossed between the U.S. and Canada, and were now in Paris. He wondered what was up with that. The Watcher assigned to Amanda thought they were looking for someone. He didn't have to wonder whom. Since Joe had been the one to track him down in South America, it was obvious they were looking for Beth, but the question was why? She'd made her choice. "MacLeod probably thinks he can fix this." Methos shook his head at his friend's Boy Scout notions. "It's his time, he can waste it if he wants."
He looked back at the screen and thought he'd see what became of his student. Claudia was in New York according to her Watcher. "Not much of a challenge to guess where Richie is." He mused, still looking him up to confirm what he already knew.
Methos raised one eyebrow and took a deep, lazy swig of his beer when he saw the report that Richie had vanished. "MacLeod isn't going to like this." He said out loud, knowing that just over a month ago his first impulse would be to call Joe or to check it out himself. But that was then. "It's not my problem." He decided as he picked up his coat and checked the lining.
It had been a week since he'd arrived in Chicago. He'd had one battle, but the coward jumped into the river and disappeared. Seems like most of the immortal's he thought he'd find here had decided to winter in a better climate. He had to agree with the notion, having been chilled to the bone on more than one occasion since he got to the city.
Double checking the map with the address he'd found on the database, Methos pulled his collar up against the cold and stepped out of his motel room to find one more in the long line of heads he needed to collect before the prize would be his. He didn't let his mind stray to thoughts of what he would do when he could no longer avoid MacLeod and the others. There was no hurry, and by the time he made his way to them he decided he would be so close to the prize he wouldn't let any emotions he might still have, get in the way.
It was just after 8 and he knew enough about his next target's schedule to know it was her usual habit to spend the early evening at a brewery on Chicago Avenue near the river. It was only a few blocks from the warehouse flat she had that overlooked the river . an area that at night would be all but deserted.
When he walked through the front door, he felt the sensation that let him know she was there. His eyes scanned the room before focusing on the crystal blue eyes near the back.
Born in 1803, Ellen Hanley hailed from County Limerick in Ireland. The daughter of a poor farmer and his wife, she'd grown up on the banks of the Shannon River, the same river her husband had her body dumped into after he had grown tired of her and had his hired man shoot her with a musket. She was barely 16 years old and had only been married to him a few months when her world came crashing down. She left Ireland far behind a few years later, but Ellen never really got over that complete betrayal and although she'd had many lovers in the almost 200 years since becoming immortal, she never let any of them get too close.
"Ellen my darlin'" one of the young men sitting at the crowded table said in his best imitation of Irish brogue. "Won't ya give me one little kiss? Or do I dare ask ya for a dance?"
Ellen laughed and tossed her light blonde hair behind her shoulder as she shook her head and poured him a fresh mug from the pitcher of beer on the table. "Every night you ask me the same thing Scott."
"And every night you tell me some day I'll get that dance." He replied with a grin.
"And some day ya shall Scotty, some day ya shall." She teased, her smile staying on her face as she felt the presence come through the door.
The others at the table hardly noticed her attention turning to the tall man who walked into the pub, but Scott didn't miss the way her eyes locked with the stranger's.
"A friend of yours?" he asked, getting her attention again.
"Friend? No ." she tried to brush him off "He just looked like someone I know. Now drink your beer before it goes flat."
Scott drained the mug and was pouring another as Ellen took advantage of his distraction to further study the immortal who sat at the bar casually watching her.
Methos studied her as he sipped a bottle of amber ale. She looked like a college kid, her blond hair tucked behind her ears and her fair complexion almost devoid of any makeup. Clearly the center of attention with the group clustered around her table, he could almost believe she was the young innocent she appeared. But it was her eyes that told the story. Yes they sparkled as she laughed and conversed with her crowd, but the years shown in their depths as well. More than once when she glanced his way, he saw her sizing him up and it was then he recognized it. A fellow skeptic.
Almost half an hour passed and Methos had just ordered his second ale when she decided it was time to find out more about the immortal who seemed so interested in her presence. She bummed some quarters from her friend Peter and crossed behind him to the jukebox beside the bar. Her eyes scanned the selections for a long minute before she felt him come to stand beside her.
She was a little surprised when after a minute of silence he reached across the box and pushed a selection on her quarter, confirming what she already suspected with his choice . The Rolling Stones, "Sweet Little Sixteen".
"I'd introduce myself, but it appears you already know who I am." She said.
Methos didn't reply as she continued to stare at the titles. "I know why you are here, but you'll have to wait. Two quarters buys me 3 songs. You'll forgive me if I pick the next two myself."
He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, giving her some room. Methos couldn't help the smirk when she selected the next song, Billy Idol, "Adam in Chains"
"I am impressed." He commented.
"Word gets around." She replied as she continued to search for her final selection. "I got a call from Riley Quinn two days ago." She looked up at him directly. "You remember him? The one that got away?" reminding him of how he let his opponent escape into the river.
"I don't recall introducing myself." He noted, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning against the wall.
"You didn't have to. Like I said, word gets around." She replied flatly. "You're the buzz of the Watcher network Adam Pierson, or didn't you know that?"
"And what may I ask is the buzz?" He asked.
"Ex-watcher who hid his immortality for years inside the organization. Mild mannered, unassuming and of no real notice until about a year and a half ago when the truth of your immortality came out . after taking a head." She continued. "Still not that remarkable until a few months ago when your wife betrayed you . on your wedding night no less, and you've been on a wild tear ever since."
Methos didn't appreciate knowing his private affairs were now well known among the watchers and whoever else had access to their dealings, and it showed on his face. The calm almost nonchalant attitude he'd been carrying since he walked in the door glazed over, and when Ellen looked up into his face she saw his anger . and despite his efforts to deny it, his pain.
"You're not the only one it's happened to ya know." She said, looking back down into the glow of the jukebox. Methos continued to lean against the wall without replying. In his mind he knew she was talking about herself, but what could she understand of his pain? He knew from the watcher's files that her husband had her killed after a few months of marriage, but she'd been not much more than a child at the time. What did she know of real love . deep love . the kind of love you'd give your life for?
"Are you going to be all night?" he asked impatiently.
His words touched a nerve in her.
-----------December, 1819 County Limerick--------------
"Are you going to be all night?" John Scanlon pounded on the door of his wife's private room as he waited for her to join him in his bed.
Ellen clutched her nightgown in her shaking hands as she stared at the door. Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried desperately to think of a way to escape. But the windows were barred shut and she knew he could easily break down the door if she took too long.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. When she'd met John Scanlon, the son of noble parents, he'd been dashing and handsome and more than a dream come true for a commoner such as herself. Her young life had been a difficult one since the death of her mother and her father's inability to care for her. Thankfully her uncle had taken her in. He'd been good to her, but he couldn't help her now. No one could.
On the night she married John Scanlon, she hadn't hesitated to go to his bed. And even in the next few nights, she continued to welcome him into her arms, despite the pain. She'd been told by her Aunt and a few of her friends that it would hurt at first. It was to be expected. What she didn't know until weeks later was that what her new husband was doing to her was meant to induce pain and humiliation. He thrived on torturing her and relished every cry and whimper of protest. And now he was bored of even that. She'd heard the hushed voices in the next room and she knew that what she'd endured in the privacy of their room was now meant to be displayed in front of others.
"God help me. I'd rather be dead." She bit her lip, tasting the blood as she tried to silence her cries. She'd no sooner pulled the nightgown over her body than her husband grew impatient. He pushed open the door and his friends followed. But God must have heard her plea because just as they began to have their way with her, her stomach wretched and she expelled it's contents all over them.
"You damned bitch." Scanlon raged as his repulsed friends left him alone with the disgusting creature that had fallen into a puddle on the floor. He backhanded her so hard that it propelled her across the room and against the wall, her head hitting it with a sickening crack that rendered her unconscious. When she awoke she was still covered in her own bile, her blond hair matted against her face. Brushing it away from her eyes, she focused on the figure before her and shrank back against the wall when she realized it was Scanlon.
"Why do you think I married you?" John Scanlon hissed. "Did you think I married you because I loved you? Or because of your fair face?" He didn't wait for her to reply as he pinned her shoulders to the wall. "I married you because you were common. Because you were nothing and because I had no use for the frivolity that comes with marrying one of the petted cows my father expected. I married you because I expect you to do as I say, when I say and with whom I say."
Ellen shook her head as the impact of his words tore the last shred of feeling from her heart. At that moment she wanted him to strike her again. She wanted to feel the blow of the wood against her skull that would let her sink into complete oblivion. She prayed when it did that she would never wake. "No ." She whispered in a shaking voice. "I won't . I won't"
Scanlon started to backhand her again, but the thought of touching her again with his own hands sickened him. "Get dressed. You'll not be spending another night under my roof." He ordered her.
Shocked and relieved, Ellen did as he bid and in a few minutes had washed herself, dressed and packed her few belongings in a travel case. When she came downstairs she was surprised to see her husband's man Stephen Sullivan at the door. "I'm to take ye across the river." He stammered, the liquor on his breath apparent. Ellen started to hesitate, but decided it would be better to get away from here any way she could than to risk any more of her husband's anger.
Willingly she followed. It wasn't until they were halfway across the River Shannon when she realized her mistake. Stephen reached beneath the seat of the boat, pulled out a musket, and before she could even scream he'd blown a hole in her chest. The last thing she remembered was the cold water of the river embracing her in its depths.
"You're only postponing the inevitable." Methos' voice broke into her thoughts.
"And maybe you shouldn't be so eager, or so certain." She replied, finally pushing the buttons for her selection before turning her back on him and walking to the table she'd left behind. Methos didn't recognize the song. It was simple and slow. The tune played on a blues saxophone filled the bar as she walked to her friend Scott and held out her hand.
Scott almost spit out his beer in surprise before taking her hand and letting her pull him to her feet and into her arms. Ellen held him tight and ran her hands up and down his arms and back as she pressed herself against him and gave him the dance of his life. And when the last notes played out, she surprised her friend once again by taking his face in her hands and kissing him deeply, slowly and completely. He was still swimming in the moment when she stepped away, retrieved her coat and walked out into the night.
*NOTE* Ellen's character loosely taken from the legend of The Colleen Bawn