A Quiet Moment
Methos awoke the next morning in a strange bed. He had absolutely no clue how he had gotten there or where there even was. Silently, he sat up and turned to put his feet on the floor. When he did, he felt movement on the other side of the bed. He looked over his shoulder and saw Kiar lying there under the covers. Gently he brushed the hair out of her face and looked lovingly at her. She let out a contented breath and rolled over to face him. Slowly, her eyes opened and she met his gaze. She reached for his hand, but he moved it away at first. Then he relented and took her hand in his. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it softly. When he let her hand go she moved it to rest upon his cheek in the same manner as she had done in the church. He held her hand to his cheek and continued to hold her gaze. If it weren't for the tattoo on her face, she would not even resemble the warrior that he had seen defeat Nick. Carefully and deliberately he leaned forward to kiss her on the lips. She gently wrapped her arms about him in a loving embrace as they continued to kiss.
Dawson put down his binoculars to give Methos and Kiar a private moment. At the moment, he was torn between his oath as a Watcher to remain neutral and his desire to get involved with the situation as a whole. His cell phone rang and he picked it up to answer. "Dawson," he said gruffly.
"Were you able to locate Kiar?" asked the voice on the other end.
Dawson just looked back at the window where Kiar and Methos's room was. "No," he said. "I wasn't able to locate her."
"Very well," said the voice on the other end. "Phone in if you get something."
"Roger," said Dawson. He ended his call and reclined the seat of his car to wait.
Methos got dressed in the bathroom and let Kiar sleep. He didn't know what was going on. He was filled with blinding rage for her one moment, then was making love to her the next. However, one thing he did know was that their relationship, if it could be called one, was not going to end happily. He closed his eyes and steeled himself. Silently he went back into the bedroom and looked for his sword. It lay in its scabbard next to her own. Steeling himself again, he drew his sword and walked towards her side of the bed. He let out a low breath as he raised his sword above his head. A single tear ran down his cheek. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice barely audible. "Please forgive me."
To be continued…if you want it to be.
