***THE ROBERT/RICHARD/CHARLES CONTROVERSY!***
What can I say, I have a problem. Every time I try to type Richa…Char…Robert it seems to go horribly wrong. I tried to join a help-group, but the W.N.A. (Wrong Names Anonymous) threw me out when I picked a fight with the group facilitator (coz he kept calling me Roberta, damn it). I guess I'll have to wrestle with the problem all by myself.
On the bright side, I've done a search and destroy on all things Richard and Charlie-like in the previous chapters and reposted the edited versions. He is now called by his correct name - Ro…Rob…Rob… no, I still can't say it!
And now, ladies and gentlemen, on to the final chapter…
CHAPTER 15
Methos's mind worked furiously as he scanned the watchers that encircled them. There were at least thirty, all armed, although mostly with pistols, he saw with relief. Sensing Duncan tense beside him, he knew that the Highlander was about to make his move. The scrape of a boot from his left caught his attention and, glancing sideways, he acknowledged Amanda's questioning glance with a shrug. Things went downhill from there.
With a yell, Duncan leapt forward and knocked the gun out of Tribeau's hand with the hilt of his sword. Taking this as his cue, Methos dropped to the ground as the bullets started flying, ignoring the pain in his shoulder as a bullet hit home. Glancing up, he saw Gina and Robert join Duncan in the fray and observed with amusement the watcher's dismay as they realised that they couldn't use their guns in the scuffle for fear of killing one of their own.
"But they can shoot you, old man, if you don't get off the ground and out of the open…" With that thought, Methos rolled to one side – and came face to face with Amanda.
"So, what's next, oh fearless leader?" she asked, somewhat sarcastically. "A re-enactment of Custer's last stand, perhaps?"
"Sorry, no can do…I forgot to bring the arrows," he retorted. "Have you a better suggestion by any chance?"
Eyeing the morass around them, Amanda shrugged her shoulders. "Well, you know what I always say, if in doubt…"
"…Decapitate?" Methos supplied helpfully.
"No! Well…yes…that too, but in this case I was thinking more along the lines of 'run away'…"
Methos smirked. "Sounds like a plan to me," he told her, pulling out his pistol. "Just give me a moment to set up a distraction." Peering through the snow, he eventually spotted Duncan, who was still wrestling with Tribeau. In typical Highlander fashion, Duncan had sheathed his sword when Tribeau refused to produce his – the result was a rather messy display of fisticuffs.
"Sometimes I really wished that idiot would stow his ridiculous sense of honour for half an hour," he muttered. "It's such a pain in the ass." Taking aim, he looked for his opening; he wasn't long waiting. "At last," he grumbled, firing a bullet into Tribeau's chest as Duncan moved out of the way.
The immortal dropped like a stone and, for a moment, the watchers froze as they saw their ringleader die.
"Now!" Methos cried, dashing uphill in a furious spurt of energy. For a moment, the watchers hesitated, unsure what to do. Eventually, though, the group split, one half following him, while the other half milled about.
Looking back, Methos smiled grimly as he realised that Tribeau's followers were going to get the surprise of their lives when he came back from the dead, he wondered if their loyalty would survive the shock.
"Hopefully, they'll chop his head off on the spot!"
Redoubling his efforts as he neared the rim, he tried to ignore the pursuing watcher's calls as they chased him. Luckily, it took all four limbs to scramble up the volcano at this speed, or he'd have to contend with gunfire as well. The sounds of the skirmish below faded away as he gained the top, the heat nearly unbearable as he stepped up to the caldera's edge.
Glancing back, Methos spotted the nearest watcher stumble in his tracks as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a clear plastic bag. "Do you know what I have in my hand?"
They watcher pulled out his gun but hesitated as his eyes rested on the bag.
"Do you know that we've got you completely surrounded, you bastard!" Another watcher came to a stop to his left, brandishing his gun threateningly. "
"Be quiet, Hawkins!" the first watcher snarled, his eyes never leaving the bag as he spoke.
"He killed Tribeau, Peterson," Hawkins ground out. "Shot him right through the chest..."
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about Tribeau," drawled Methos. "It's not as if it's permanent, he should be waking up any minute now…"
Peterson smiled grimly. "Don't listen to him," he called out the others that just caught up with him. "He's just trying to distract us, spread out and surround him."
"Suit yourself," Methos told him as he swung his hand out over the sweltering heat of the lava. "It's of no great consequence to me, after all. I just thought you should know who you're really working for."
Some of the watchers began to mutter among themselves, eyeing the bag in Methos' hand warily. "That's right, gentleman," Methos called out cheerfully, rustling the bag in his hand. "The Methuselah stone – doesn't look like much, does it? Just a few useless lumps of crystal, its amazing what a man will kill for, really. "
"Shoot him!" Hawkins ordered.
"No, don't!" Peterson interjected. "If we shoot him, he might go over the edge and take the stone with him. Hawkins glared hostilely but lowered his gun.
Methos looked uneasily about him, they were at a stand off; the watchers wouldn't shoot as long as he held the stone over the lava and Methos couldn't drop it without dying in the process. More had joined the watchers that surrounded him; he could count at least ten in the ruddy light given off by the volcano. Where the hell was Amanda, he wondered, he had thought she would have been right behind him as he ran, but she was nowhere to be seen.
The crunch of gravel caught his attention; Methos's head snapped to his left and caught yet another watcher trying to sneak up on him. "Now, now, none of that," he warned. "Back away or I'll drop the stone. "
Peterson took a step forward. "No you won't," he said confidently. "You know as well as I that the moment you drop it, you're a dead man – and I mean that in the permanent sense," he added, making a slashing motion to his neck as he spoke.
Methos turned to glare at Peterson, his mouth already open to make a smart retort. He hesitated, however, when a small fleeting movement caught his eye. Was it his imagination or was somebody sneaking up behind Peterson and Hawkins?
"What, cat got your, Pierson, or whatever the hell your name really is?"
Methos gave him a sparse smile, his eyes narrowing coldly as he studied the watcher's face. "I'm just wondering what the hell you think you're going to get out of this?"
"He's got a point," one of the watchers muttered. "Tribeau is dead. Without him, we don't know how to use the stone."
"We've still got his notes, you fool," Hawkins spat out. "It may take a little longer than we thought, but we'll still get our immortality."
Methos' eyes widened as he realised that none of the watchers before him knew of Tribeau's true intentions. "So Tribeau didn't trust his little helpers with the truth," he muttered to himself.
"What was that you said?" Hawkins demanded suspiciously. "Speak up."
"Oh, nothing," Methos replied laconically as he felt the presence of another immortal wash over him. "I'm just contemplating your unbelievable idiocy."
"Why you…" Hawkins's sentence was left unfinished as he suddenly stiffened, a look of terror flashing through his eyes as he slowly raised his hands.
"Hello gentlemen, mind if I join the party?" Amanda stepped out from behind him, her gun still pressed to Hawkins's head.
"So glad you that could join us, Amanda," Methos said, the relief obvious in his voice.
I've also brought company," she purred. "Gentleman, I want you to give a warm welcome to Madame De Valicourt, who has also, so graciously, consented to join us this evening!" On cue, Gina stepped from the shadows and raised a gun to Peterson's head, obviously they'd both been watching the proceedings long enough to figure out which ones were the ringleaders. "Now that we're all here," Amanda continued. "I think its time we got on with the main attraction of the evening – the fatal demise of the Methuselah stone." Amanda's lips were curved in a smile, but there was a sadness in her eyes as she looked up at Methos; she gave him a nod of encouragement, but it was so slight he almost missed it.
With a sigh, he tore open the bag and upended its contents into the volcano.
"No!" cried out Peterson. "Dear God, I don't believe you just did that... why?" The watcher was on his knees, disbelief and shock evident on his face.
For a moment, Methos hesitated, should he tell the watcher the truth about Tribeau's plans? No, he decided, it was better to let that secret die in peace.
"Lets just say that…the alternative was unthinkable," he told the watcher, unconsciously echoing the words he had said to Duncan so many years ago, when he'd first met Alexa.
Looking around, he noticed that the other watchers had melted away, leaving only the three immortals, with Hawkins and Peterson, on the volcano top. The volcano rumbled beneath his feet, reminding him that an active volcano was not a place one should linger on. "Let's go," he said as he stepped away from the rim. "I've had enough of this gods forsaken place. "
"What about us?" piped up Hawkins.
Methos paused, gracing the two watchers with a cold look that was disturbingly reminiscent of his days as a horseman. "What indeed," he mused, his voice deceptively calm. Looking up, he caught Amanda's eye. "What do you think?"
Amanda, hesitated, she knew what Methos was asking. "He's a watcher," she eventually said. "Let Joe take care of it."
"Yes, that's probably for the best," muttered Methos, turning his gaze to the two watchers once more, he glared at them. "You heard the woman, get out of here!"
"You…you're just going to let us go?" Peterson asked uncertainly, getting to his feet.
"It would seem so," Methos told him grimly. "But I wouldn't count your blessings just yet; I've a funny feeling that the watcher's tribunal won't be so forgiving. If my memory serves me correctly, they're rather fond of executions – you'd better start running now."
The two watchers needed no further encouragement. Hastily, they stumbled away and disappeared into the night. Gina sighed into the silence left behind. "Well, at least the blizzard has died down," she said.
Methos looked up at the sky in surprise. "So it has, fancy that, I never even noticed."
"Yes, well, I've heard that teetering on the edge of a volcano will do that to you," Amanda joked, her heart wasn't in it, however, and Methos glanced over at her, his face a picture of wary commiseration.
"It had to be done, you know," he told her gently.
"I know," she sighed. "It doesn't make me feel any better about it, though," she added softly.
Methos put his arm around her shoulders. "Let's go see what that Highlander of yours has been up to," he suggested, steering her away from the rim.
"Not to mention that husband of mine," interjected Gina as she followed them downwards.
Before long, they felt the quickening of another immortal approaching. Robert and Duncan stepped out of the darkness, their clothes were a little bloodied, but they looked otherwise unharmed - despite the annoyed looks on their faces.
"Did you destroy the stone?" Duncan asked urgently.
"Yes," answered Methos briefly. "Why…what's up?"
"Tribeau got away," Robert informed them disgustedly. "When Tribeau was killed, the other watchers lost it and one of them shot Duncan. Luckily, Tribeau came to before they could get a clear shot at me."
"How did his little watcher buddies take the news that he was immortal," asked an amused Methos.
"Not too well," admitted Robert with a smile. "The last we saw of them, they were chasing Tribeau down the volcano."
"Here's hoping that they catch him," pronounced Methos, a small grin lurking on his lips.
Duncan gave him a wry look. "And if they don't?" he asked pointedly. "What then?"
"No Methuselah stone – no problem," Methos told him with a shrug of his shoulders. "Now he's just another psychotic killer immortal on the loose; nothing more, nothing less."
"Pardon me, if I don't find that thought very comforting," Gina said. "I'd feel a whole lot better if he was dead."
"So would I," Methos replied. "But at least now we don't have to worry about a ticking time bomb under our feet. If one of us comes across him again, we'll naturally take his head, if not…well…his type never stay hidden for long, it's not in their nature." Reluctantly, the others agreed with him.
Their progress downhill was slow, each immortal lost in their own thoughts as they descended. Eventually, however, they made it back to the camp. "Turner is gone," Robert announced to the others after he pulled his head out of their former captive's tent.
"Surprise, surprise," muttered Methos, finishing off his phone call with Joe before he gave his full attention to Robert. "I should be annoyed, but I can't seem to stir up enough energy to care." With a snort, Robert rolled his eyes before he wandered off to help Gina pack their tent.
By dawn they were making their way down the slope, the return trip was a lot more pleasant because of the lack of snowfall, nobody commented on it, however. In unspoken agreement, they decided it was better not to tempt the gods a second time.
They reached the vehicles by late afternoon and were treated to an enthusiastic welcome by Joe and Amy. "Any sign of the watchers?" Methos asked as he threw his equipment into the back of the SUV.
"Not a glimmer," Joe informed him. "They must have cleared out before we arrived. Don't worry, though, I've already contacted the watcher's tribunal in Paris, they're being hunted down as we speak."
"So…it's over?" Robert asked uncertainly.
"It would seem so, yes," Duncan said. "Its time to go home."
"Home," sighed Amy. "Music to my ears, lets get going, then. I can hear my bath calling to me as we speak!"
They set off into the night.
EPILOGUE
Methos peered into the murky waters that flowed inside the pool before him. He knew that he shouldn't have come here, but the temptation proved too great. It hadn't been the first time he had come to these waters looking for answers but he had always pulled back before he took the final step. And this time, he realised, was no exception. As tempting as he sometimes found the idea, he knew he wasn't going to step into the waters this time, either.
Why, he didn't know. According to Darius, these waters had the power to heal his memory problem and Tribeau's research seemed to back that theory up. All he had to do was step into it. Perhaps he had gotten used to the gaps in his memory, he had suffered from the problem for so long it was now as much a part of him as his name. If it was his name, he reminded himself, he sometimes had the vague sense that he'd been born with another one. A not so surprising idea, considering that his name, Methos, was a Greek one and that he'd been born well before the dawn of such a language.
Grimacing, he pulled his mind away from that thought and tugged a small, velvet bag out of his pocket. Dumping the contents onto his lap, he studied the glittering crystals carefully; his nose twitching as he caught the faint odour of bleach that still clung to them. "I wonder if you were worth all that trouble," he muttered out loud as he picked up one of the pieces and studied it. With a sigh, he dropped the piece back into the velvet bag before scooping up the rest and dropping them inside also.
It had been a week since they'd climbed off that volcano and Methos had spent most of that time worrying about what he would do with contents of this bag. Originally, he had truly meant to destroy the stone but some inkling of caution held him back. If the stone was truly as powerful as Tribeau had thought, what would have happened if he had really thrown it into the volcano's caldera? Methos had decided he'd rather not find out.
So now he found himself lurking around the edges of a dank pool in France, holding the means to end the world within his hand. Methos paused to give up a brief prayer of thanks to the Gods for the fact that Kronos was dead, at least he didn't have to worry about his dear departed brother popping up and getting his hands on it – but there was still Tribeau, Methos worried.
And there was the crux of his dilemma, Methos realised. He had lied to the others when he had said that Tribeau was no longer a problem. With a soft groan, he got to his feet and pocketed the stone once more. He had originally planned to give back Amanda her piece of the stone, along with an explanation, once things had died down…perhaps in forty or fifty years time, when he knew that all the mortals involved in this escapade were dead. But Tribeau had escaped and now he found himself lumbered with a secret that he couldn't share; it was simply too dangerous. Reluctantly, he came to the conclusion that he may have to hunt down Tribeau.
Muttering under his breath, he stepped out of the cave and away from the temptations of the water. Deep in his thoughts, he hadn't realised that he was being followed until he heard the breaking of a twig behind him. Straightening his shoulders, he raised his voice so that she could hear him. "You can come out now, Amy."
Sheepishly, Amy stepped out from behind a hedge and joined him. "Hi there."
"Hi yourself," he grumbled as he eyed her suspiciously. "So…how much did you see?"
"Enough," she admitted. "But don't worry; there is no way in hell that I'm going to put it in my report."
Methos folded his arms, shaking his head in defeat. "You can't tell anybody, Amy, not even your father," he warned her.
"Scouts honour," she told him, a small smile hovering on her lips. "Dib, dib."
"Amy, you were never in the Boy Scouts," he reminded her.
"Yeah, well…Brownie's honour, then," she said with a shrug. "Same difference."
Methos studied her silently for a moment. "Do you understand why I did it?"
"Oh, I understand it, alright – I just don't agree with it," she said wryly. "You should have told them.
"Too many know of its existence and what it could do, Amy," he told her. "I had to make everybody believe that I'd destroyed it. As for you lot, well, what you don't know can't hurt you."
"But now I do know," Amy reminded him.
"And it's a secret that you're going to carry to your grave," he insisted. "I'm not kidding here, Amy, nobody is to know that it still exists…nobody."
"Okay, okay, I get it," she protested. "Never shall I speak of it as long as I live – I'll just make a short note of it in my will…"
"Amy!"
"Just kidding." Giving Methos a cheeky grin, she backed away. "I parked about a half mile down the road," she informed him. "I didn't want you to catch me following you."
"You succeeded," Methos said dryly. "A little too well, as a matter of fact."
"It's from all that practice you give me – keeping me on my toes, I believe you called it."
"Amanda has a big mouth," muttered Methos as he watched Amy disappear down the road. Getting into his car, he fired up the engine and pulled out into the road. It was a good hundred miles to Paris and he wished to get there before the evening traffic…he felt a sudden urge to have a beer at Joe's.
~~FINIS~~
Notes:
In case you were wondering, yes, there is going to be a sequel to this story.
I am also in the midst of writing a small companion piece (two chapters) to Hamlet's Ghost. It will centre on Methos and Amanda and their brief affair (and their break-up) in Italy during the renaissance.
To all those who might ask, yes, Amanda did learn of the horsemen, but it was Duncan who told her, not Methos – and no, she hasn't made the connection between 'Scarface' and Kronos.
Mount Karymsky, on the Kamchatka peninsula in Russia, really does exist, and has been active since September of this year.
P.S. Rob…Ro…Ro…Rob…Rooob…oh, I give up…