April 13, 2005, 230 PM, a cemetery, Paris
Duncan had only half-lied. He did go to the bank, as he had said he would be, but that was only one of two errands he had needed to run. And, the bank was such a quick errand due to the modern convenience of the Automatic Teller Machine. Having started the ignition of the T-Bird again, he drove now to the small graveyard close to the church grounds.
After Asher had shared her theory, he had mulled it in his mind, tossing it back and forth, determining how likely it could be. He finally concluded it was, but he still wanted to determine for himself. Only one person would know definitely, and if he were back in Paris, he would likely be here, as any other place. He parked the car, strolling towards the simple stone marking of Alexa's grave. He felt the telltale buzz, but could see no one around, only heard voices. Not one, but two. Lost, he ducked behind a nearby tree, and prayed the Immortal was indeed Methos. He may have been on Holy Ground, but he still wanted to take no chances.
"I still don't understand this, Adam. You risked your cover all to visit a cemetery?" asked the second voice.
"This grave is worth risking for," Adam replied softly. "You've been in love, Clarke. Surely you understand?"
"Love, bah. A fleeting emotion, there one moment, gone the next. Told today I have never loved."
"Anyone I know say this?"
"Probably. Asher Jacobs."
Adam nodded, for a moment, offering no response. "I have fallen in love many many times, Sam. Seems to me, you must have felt something for Asher."
"Well, sure. Sex," he grinned. Adam came to a halt, and Sam to one beside him. "This the grave?"
"It is," once again, Adam's voice was soft. "I loved her, I do still love her. For such a short time we had together, we had the world at our fingertips."
"If you still love her, what am I doing here?"
Adam turned to face his companion, and frowned slightly. He turned to walk again, and he was aware Sam Clarke matched his footsteps stride for stride. He paused again, only briefly, and scanned the cemetery. Another Immortal was near. He thanked every god he had ever known for the Holy Ground beneath his feet. "You are here," he responded, walking again, "because the human heart was never created to love just one person. Several years have passed since I lost Alexa, my heart has since healed the more surface hurts, and has allowed me to love another again."
"Duncan MacLeod."
"Yes, Duncan MacLeod."
"So, explain something to me then, Pierson. If you love this Duncan MacLeod, why leave, and then why come back without telling him?"
"I have my reasons. Your job is to find out his."
Sam Clarke laughed shortly, without the laugh reaching his eyes. "Back to the same cryptic ways of before we were friends, I see. No matter. Give me tomorrow. I'll have just the information you want," he promised, pivoting on his heels, to the direction of the parking lot. Only when he reached the gate of the graveyard, did he stop gain, and look over his shoulder. "Hey, Pierson, I never did love her. Asher, I mean. We used one another to our own advantages."
"Standard human nature," mumbled Adam, but Sam Clarke had already stepped out of the cemetery, and did not hear him. He raised his head again, an unreadable expression crossing his face. "It is not polite to eavesdrop, MacLeod," he called.
With no guilt, Duncan stepped out from behind the tree. "Hello, Methos. Long time."
"What is a long time to us?" Adam shrugged. "What did you want?"
"I have what I came for. An answer to a theory Asher raised this morning."
Adam nodded, and stepped forward, walking the circular path of the cemetery. Duncan trotted lightly beside him. Two solitary figures, both dressed in long black overcoats, billowing behind them. "Glad I could be of some service then."
"Why did you come back?" Duncan asked, breaking several moments of uncomfortable silence, which had descended upon them.
"I would have thought it to be obvious, MacLeod." He paused, coming to a halt, standing at a lone grave near to the church. "Here it is, and here we are." He turned to face Duncan, memorizing the face he once knew very well, before he turned again. "Love is misery. Misery is love."
"Sounds like a bumper sticker."
"So, I said, however, Teresa Cielo contradicted me. Should we make bumper stickers, we would be rich, but only with money. And, despite my persona, I don't need the money."
"What do you need?"
"Again, I thought the answer was obvious." He paused, swallowed. "What was Asher's theory?"
It was several moments before Duncan finally answered. "Said that you had hired Sam to collect information on me."
Adam allowed himself a tiny half-smile. "Asher would be correct, but only partially. I am not collecting information on you directly, MacLeod, but rather on the bar. Which you do fit into, indirectly."
"You could have just asked me."
"No," Adam replied softly. He shook his head, all the hurt and the pain he had felt in the last seven months hurrying to the surface of his skin and into the pools of his eyes. "No, I could not have. I needed a neutral bumper between us."
Duncan only nodded, mumbled something under his breath. "Do you remember what I told you the day I left, Duncan?"
Duncan nodded again; dimly aware Methos had called him by his first name.
"That is why, I could I not ask you directly." With a long last look at both Duncan and the grave they stood at, Adam swept his coat behind him, and walked away. He turned only once, halfway between Duncan and the gate. "If I find what I hope to, I will tell you again, Duncan. If not," but he did not finish the thought, and Duncan did not need him to.
Aware of the sudden quiet, Duncan glanced down at the stone he stood before, and an ironic smile quirked at his mouth. 'Joe Dawson,' read the stone, 'friend, mentor, musician.' "Maybe you were right all along, old friend," murmured Duncan, and he too left the cemetery.
Duncan had only half-lied. He did go to the bank, as he had said he would be, but that was only one of two errands he had needed to run. And, the bank was such a quick errand due to the modern convenience of the Automatic Teller Machine. Having started the ignition of the T-Bird again, he drove now to the small graveyard close to the church grounds.
After Asher had shared her theory, he had mulled it in his mind, tossing it back and forth, determining how likely it could be. He finally concluded it was, but he still wanted to determine for himself. Only one person would know definitely, and if he were back in Paris, he would likely be here, as any other place. He parked the car, strolling towards the simple stone marking of Alexa's grave. He felt the telltale buzz, but could see no one around, only heard voices. Not one, but two. Lost, he ducked behind a nearby tree, and prayed the Immortal was indeed Methos. He may have been on Holy Ground, but he still wanted to take no chances.
"I still don't understand this, Adam. You risked your cover all to visit a cemetery?" asked the second voice.
"This grave is worth risking for," Adam replied softly. "You've been in love, Clarke. Surely you understand?"
"Love, bah. A fleeting emotion, there one moment, gone the next. Told today I have never loved."
"Anyone I know say this?"
"Probably. Asher Jacobs."
Adam nodded, for a moment, offering no response. "I have fallen in love many many times, Sam. Seems to me, you must have felt something for Asher."
"Well, sure. Sex," he grinned. Adam came to a halt, and Sam to one beside him. "This the grave?"
"It is," once again, Adam's voice was soft. "I loved her, I do still love her. For such a short time we had together, we had the world at our fingertips."
"If you still love her, what am I doing here?"
Adam turned to face his companion, and frowned slightly. He turned to walk again, and he was aware Sam Clarke matched his footsteps stride for stride. He paused again, only briefly, and scanned the cemetery. Another Immortal was near. He thanked every god he had ever known for the Holy Ground beneath his feet. "You are here," he responded, walking again, "because the human heart was never created to love just one person. Several years have passed since I lost Alexa, my heart has since healed the more surface hurts, and has allowed me to love another again."
"Duncan MacLeod."
"Yes, Duncan MacLeod."
"So, explain something to me then, Pierson. If you love this Duncan MacLeod, why leave, and then why come back without telling him?"
"I have my reasons. Your job is to find out his."
Sam Clarke laughed shortly, without the laugh reaching his eyes. "Back to the same cryptic ways of before we were friends, I see. No matter. Give me tomorrow. I'll have just the information you want," he promised, pivoting on his heels, to the direction of the parking lot. Only when he reached the gate of the graveyard, did he stop gain, and look over his shoulder. "Hey, Pierson, I never did love her. Asher, I mean. We used one another to our own advantages."
"Standard human nature," mumbled Adam, but Sam Clarke had already stepped out of the cemetery, and did not hear him. He raised his head again, an unreadable expression crossing his face. "It is not polite to eavesdrop, MacLeod," he called.
With no guilt, Duncan stepped out from behind the tree. "Hello, Methos. Long time."
"What is a long time to us?" Adam shrugged. "What did you want?"
"I have what I came for. An answer to a theory Asher raised this morning."
Adam nodded, and stepped forward, walking the circular path of the cemetery. Duncan trotted lightly beside him. Two solitary figures, both dressed in long black overcoats, billowing behind them. "Glad I could be of some service then."
"Why did you come back?" Duncan asked, breaking several moments of uncomfortable silence, which had descended upon them.
"I would have thought it to be obvious, MacLeod." He paused, coming to a halt, standing at a lone grave near to the church. "Here it is, and here we are." He turned to face Duncan, memorizing the face he once knew very well, before he turned again. "Love is misery. Misery is love."
"Sounds like a bumper sticker."
"So, I said, however, Teresa Cielo contradicted me. Should we make bumper stickers, we would be rich, but only with money. And, despite my persona, I don't need the money."
"What do you need?"
"Again, I thought the answer was obvious." He paused, swallowed. "What was Asher's theory?"
It was several moments before Duncan finally answered. "Said that you had hired Sam to collect information on me."
Adam allowed himself a tiny half-smile. "Asher would be correct, but only partially. I am not collecting information on you directly, MacLeod, but rather on the bar. Which you do fit into, indirectly."
"You could have just asked me."
"No," Adam replied softly. He shook his head, all the hurt and the pain he had felt in the last seven months hurrying to the surface of his skin and into the pools of his eyes. "No, I could not have. I needed a neutral bumper between us."
Duncan only nodded, mumbled something under his breath. "Do you remember what I told you the day I left, Duncan?"
Duncan nodded again; dimly aware Methos had called him by his first name.
"That is why, I could I not ask you directly." With a long last look at both Duncan and the grave they stood at, Adam swept his coat behind him, and walked away. He turned only once, halfway between Duncan and the gate. "If I find what I hope to, I will tell you again, Duncan. If not," but he did not finish the thought, and Duncan did not need him to.
Aware of the sudden quiet, Duncan glanced down at the stone he stood before, and an ironic smile quirked at his mouth. 'Joe Dawson,' read the stone, 'friend, mentor, musician.' "Maybe you were right all along, old friend," murmured Duncan, and he too left the cemetery.