SCION
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by Sannah
sequel to "Adam Pierson is dead"
second in my "May God have mercy on your soul"-Series
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...Methos had survived almost 1500 years the time the Egyptian troops invaded the land between the Euphrates and the Tigris - that was now more than three and a half thousand years ago. His home country was taken by surprise and the Egyptians drew a line of blood and destruction across it. They slaughtered, raped and took everything they could - not distinguishing between items and people. He himself had the questionable luck not to be pinned still alive on a wooden spear like the other men in his village. His physical advantages saved him, but led him into slavery. He was taken to Karnak where a lord called Intef bought him. Life wasn't bad at first. He was treaten well, got food and a place to sleep, and his tasks weren't unbearable - all in all it could have been worse. It even happened that he made friends with the other slaves and one that really impressed him: Taita. He was in his late twenties, tall and good looking - obviously Greek origin. And he was the first and only mortal Methos had ever met, that could keep up with himself- intellectual as well as physical. But soon his intact world broke into pieces, when his master began showing clear interest in his body. It wasn't unusual in those times that a man had a sexual relationship to another. On the contrary, it had been some kind of competition between the rich men to own the most beautiful and willingly so called body slaves. And from the first moment on Methos knew he would only survive any longer if he pleased his master, and he did. So he quickly became his favorite. But Intef's demands grew day by day and he became more and more brutal until Methos sometimes could hardly stand it. Yet he was able to do, 'cause he still wanted to live. But one day changed everything... Intef had sent Taita to bring him to his private rooms. And both knew the reason for it, but didn't talk about it. Instead Taita informed him: "Our Lord Intef isn't in his best mood today, Methos. Business didn't go well. And the new boy didn't please him, too." The slave went slowly at his side, but looked straightforward. Methos nodded: "I know. The child came to me afterwards, still crying. Intef wanted too much and he was afraid of doing it. Gods - he's only nine years old!" His voice was low but angry. And Taita turned around to face him. "Where is he now?" He asked concerned. "I think I should have a look at him." Methos knew Taita was the only one who was allowed to attend to the slaves injuries, but fortunately the boy hadn't been hurt. "No need. He's still in my room - sleeping." Silence spread out between them as they walked further to their master's rooms. Intef smiled as every time. But Methos knew it meant anything else than a friendly greeting. "Methos! Come over here and get on your knees!" He did as he was told and bowed his head between the other man's legs. Intef reached for his long, black hair and grabbed it tenderly first then intensifying his grab that it hurt. Methos ignored the pain, knowing his master wasn't going to stop if he showed it, but it would only lead into more cruelty. His head was now forced up, so he could see the growing lust in Intef's eyes, then back down again to last on his already bare groin. He was quite sure of what he wanted him to do next and so he started licking the other's more than ready cock, not recognizing the silken cord that suddenly appeared in Intef's hand. Methos didn't feel it until it was gently lain around his neck, but with the shivers of his master's orgasm it tightened, soon leaving him breathless for what seemed like eternity - although not long enough to release the pain and kill him. Sure, he wouldn't die permanently, but it hurt like hell every time he revived - nothing he longed for at the moment. And so he cried now and begged for his life. And it wasn't over now...
Chiara felt the warm hand that got her out of the vision. Thankful for the pure touch she lifted her head and smiled exhausted at O'Coerky, who was watching her questioning: "You're alright?" "Yeah, but.." She looked down, not knowing how to continue. She needed him close now to keep the pictures away from her. It seemed as if his bare presence could fill her mind, not allowing the visions to come back and torture her anymore. "Could you please stay...holding me?" He didn't answer, but suddenly she felt his body next to hers and his arms found their way caressing around her body. She let out a satisfied sigh and soon she drifted off into a dreamless and therefor restful sleep.
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It wasn't long after dawn when Chiara was again drawn back into the world of brutality...
...The body she was in needed long to recover, but it got its time. The man in front of her wanted her to be in the best condition, that was possible after she had almost died not long ago. Looking down at herself she discovered that the body was male and only covered with a white loincloth. He coughed, trying to get in as much air as he could, only to cough again. But gradually he felt better. The other man smiled half concerned, half amused down at him. "I hope you're fine, my beloved Methos. `Cause you will continue pleasing me, won't you." He nodded not daring to look into the face of his tormentor. Instead he recognized that the other's cock hardened a second time. 'No...' That was the last thought left before Chiara felt the body was thrown on his stomach and compelled to lay motionless. The cord was still twisted around his neck and was now used to hold him in place. The man grabbed his right wrist, forcing it on his back and up to his neck, where he could take it in the other hand. Chiara felt the bones in the lower arm break and the shoulder dislocate. It sent waves of pain through the man's body she joined and caused a shrill scream. But the man above him wasn't done yet. Almost gently again he knelt down between his spread legs and moved the loincloth up, marking the skin with light touches. Then his fingers went deeper searching for the tight opening. And suddenly he was back, the demon that knew nothing but violence. He pushed his fingers, three at a time, hard into his ass, not caring about the blood that now lubricated the ring of muscles. "That's preparation enough." The demon mumbled grinning and replaced almost immediately his fingers with his cock. Three, four, five deep thrusts - the cord tightened painfully around his neck and Chiara witnessed his feelings of suffocating soon. They both - Chiara and her vision's ego - had now to concentrate on breathing, so the pressure inside was nearly forgotten, until the other man shoved that hard inside, that it must have caused real damage. But by the time he came and emptied himself in his slave, he strengthened his grab on the cord and pulled it right in his direction. Chiara heard the soft noise of her ego's breaking neck, and suddenly the world turned into a silent black...
...And back into a glaring white light, that hurt her eyes. She was sweating and hardly managed to breath, still lying in her bed, but with no one beside her. Where O'Coerky had been was only an empty space left - cold already. But Chiara didn't care any longer. 'No - no more. That's too much!' Tonight's vision had been more than she could stand. It had to be over... Calmly he sat up, recognizing the knife was still at the bedside table where she had left it. And she knew how to use it. With shaking fingers she placed it over her heart and plunged it into her chest, crying:
"FORGIVE ME...!!!"
The words echoed in the depth of his soul, leaving him unsure if he had really heard them. But all of the sudden the realization hit him. The girl...! He had only left her ten minutes ago to have a shower. He had thought it wouldn't matter - he shouldn't have left her!
"Noooo!" His feet didn't obey his order and he almost fell several times while heading for the bedroom. "No, you didn't dare it! Not with me in the next room."
But as soon as he reached the door he saw what he didn't want to believe. The girl lay on her back, the knife still in her body and her eyes were closed. There was no blood, 'cause until now the blade sealed the wound. And yes, her chest kept on moving - for now. But Methos was sure it wouldn't last long. He felt guilty, although he knew he couldn't have helped her. Only who would ask... Finally he collapsed beside her, holding her tight. She had the smile of an angel: "I'm sorry, I just couldn't..." "Shh, it's alright, Love. Don't speak." He whispered, closing her lips with his index finger. 'Oh Gods, please -' He spoke a silent prayer, addressing it to every god he knew: 'Please take her to where she can find her peace!' Noticing her heartbeat and respiration slowed down he gently led his lips to her forehead allowing them to rest there until he felt her getting cold. "I haven't even known your name..." And she had died like countless other people he had known, had loved. And he had to watch, couldn't do anything, always survived. Still holding her he wasn't able to do anything else than cry and lock the pain out of his mind for a long time...
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Hours must have passed by until there were no tears left and Methos could clear his head enough again to raise, taking her lifeless body with him. He lay her down on her bed, crossing her arms over her chest and removed the knife. Without the pressure of the beating heart only little blood appeared. He wanted to do more, but recognizing he was still naked he went to get dressed. The flat was silent, too silent for him to stay any longer. With a last look around he reached the door and opened it a few inches, then stopped. He had to call the police if he didn't want them to believe that the girl had been murdered, what would lead the investigation to him right away in any case. 'Why not be faster...' He thought while closing the door and looked for the phone. It really was necessary, but nevertheless it wasn't something he liked to do very much.
Methos was just dialing the first number, when a stifled cry caught his attention. He wasn't sure about the direction it came from, nor if it was human. 'Gods, it could be everything!' But something made him checking the bedroom again. Maybe it was intuition or fate - he couldn't tell. However, it was the right move. The bed was empty, and when he went further he found the girl lying on the floor. Her breathing was uneven, but present. And Methos hurried to get to her, supporting her to sit up. "What the heck...You've been dead!" He wondered, but at the same time he asked himself: 'Fine, old man, what does surprise you this much? You're immortal yourself!' - 'Sure.' Another voice said inside his head. 'But she's not like you, you would have recognized it otherwise.' And they kept on arguing, what didn't help him at all. Instead he embraced her, just glad she came back, not asking for a reason. And he cried - even if he himself didn't realize it.
"Please -" Chiara whispered, trying to break free. "I can't breath..." But it wasn't only the hug, that let her nearly suffocate. The cut had opened one more time and the blood got into her lungs, so there was no more room left for air. She knew she wood soon die again - and come back. "I'm going to..." She had no idea how to explain it to O'Coerky, but he had already seen her reviving once; he had no choice but accept it. And she couldn't do anything. Chiara closed her eyes for a moment, and felt how she weakened. One more time she gasped for air, coughed blood. But O'Coerky watched her without batting an eyelid. He only caressed her cheek and smiled lightly. "I know..." His soft voice hardly reached her, but his warm hands relaxed her body and mind. And she faded, finally drifting into darkness.
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"How often?" Hazel eyes stared at her. And the face they belonged to had a curios expression. Chiara had just awakened and didn't understand what he meant with his question. Therefor she asked with a sigh: "What?" "You got it, don't you - but slowly one more time, just for you, 'cause you had a very lousy day: How often have you tried to kill yourself?" He looked serious, and Chiara felt not comfortable with it. "Shit, what do you want to hear? That it was three times - although I knew it wouldn't work right after my first attempt? Or maybe that I died all in all five times and looked forward each death? - Or that I would do it again..." The words left her as did her ability to speak. She turned around, not wanting to see him any longer, and started to cry. She was mad - perhaps with him, perhaps with herself. It made no difference at all. She had not wanted this conversation to go this way. And now it had begun to slide off of her hands - nothing she liked much. O'Coerky hadn't reacted until now, so it was her turn again. This time more conciliatory: "I'm sorry. It's not your fault I'm this upset. As you said already, times were lousy- really lousy. And you were in the wrong locality just the wrong time. I didn't intend to involve anybody else." "But I already am involved, and that's why I feel some kind of responsible for you now." He took her chin, forcing her to face him. "And that's again why I have to dress your wound as soon as possible. And no argument!" Chiara was glad he smiled again. And of course she didn't protest...
"I think it's time to start over." Methos had just finished bandaging the girl's chest and headed now for the kitchen. He didn't wait for her to answer, but asked while rummaging through the cupboards: "You're hungry?" "Hm-hmm." "Fine. Anything special you'd like?" "Nope." Methos wasn't exactly in the right mood to cook, and besides his search wasn't successful, so he decided to order Italian food.
It didn't take long and they both were faced with a xxl-pizza and a huge helping of pasta, that kept them busy for more than twenty minutes. Methos was the first to speak again after also the last noodle had disappeared: "Can you imagine that I don't know your name yet? I've patched you up, I made a great meal for you, I already have slept in your bed - and I still don't know your name..." He could see her battle with herself to answer without bursting out laughing. "It's true, you've slept in my bed, but you didn't cook yourself! So don't think you're entitled to anything." She tried to look really serious, but somehow it didn't work. "Nevertheless, it isn't fair to let you die stupid." - 'If you would only know...' - "I'm Chiara, and I'm pleased to meet you!" Methos grabbed her offered hand and shook it. "Me, too. But..." - 'Bloody hell, this is going to be hard.' He could feel her expressions darken with his words. "But we need to talk."
"Okay, who's going to start?" O'Coerky lay on the couch, and nipped on a glass of the vine they had gotten with their food. The room was filled with music, Liszt as Chiara had chosen, but he looked as if he enjoyed it, too. His eyes were half closed and his fingers moved rhythmical. Chiara herself sat on the floor, legs crossed. She knew, he wanted her to speak, but she didn't like to. All she said was: "You." He only nodded, then put the glass on the table and stood up. Chiara could feel him becoming uneasy. But finally he started, letting out a sigh: "Ask!" It wasn't exactly what she had expected. But okay, she would do it: "You didn't seem very surprised when I came back..." "That's not a question." He gave her a little smile, but his eyes were cold and looked through her. "Right. So - why?" She got nervous watching him running through the room like a cat of prey in a cage. If he wasn't going to stay still soon, she would make him to. And fortunately he did in front of the window and now stared out of it. "'Cause I myself am immortal." He said in a low but firm voice. Almost to low for her to get it. And, yes, she must have misunderstood him. 'Immortal?' - How was it possible that anyone, except herself, wasn't able to die? He must have read her thoughts, 'cause he went on explaining: "As long as world itself exists there always have been some people like me, people who called themselves 'Immortals'. We are mortal until we die for the first time. After it we can only be killed if we are beheaded." He turned around, now looking at her questioning. "Usually...we recognize each other." Something went awfully wrong. Fine, they both were immortal, but why did he seem so uncertain? "Usually?" Chiara wasn't sure if she really wanted to know. "It's just that I didn't recognize you as one of us. So, either you aren't of my kind or... What the hell, you are immortal, I can tell! But - " O'Coerky went to the kitchen and came back with a knife in his hand. He sat down beside her and pointed at her wrist. "I had to stitch that, you remember. And now watch!" He made a deep cut at his own wrist and Chiara had to stifle a cry. It drew blood, but almost immediately the wound healed accompanied by blue lightening, she noticed amazed. She could see the problem now. What had killed her two times caused only a few drops of blood on him. And there was no scar left, in contrary to what she had to expect. "Oh - okay." She didn't find words. Instead she went now to pour herself a glass of wine, too. "You want another?" She asked sitting down again. "Sure, thanks." He handed her his own glass.
"What about Adam Pierson?" Methos had just fallen asleep, dreaming of Bora-Bora, when Chiara's question awakened him, carrying him away from the sun and the warm sand and the palm trees... "What?" He asked sleepy, not willing to open his eyes. "Adam Pierson." That made him finally opening them. It was time to be completely honest, he knew. But it didn't become easier. And honesty wasn't exactly something he was well used to at all... "One of my identities, like O'Coerky now." He simply answered, waiting for her to go further. He in any case wouldn't push it. "So, actually how old are you? I mean - One of your identities?" She looked confused but serious at the same time, Methos recognized. And somehow it suited her very well. 'Hold that thought, old man, but you've got other things to do right now!' "I'm old - the oldest, I confess." Methos tried a grin. "Five thousand years. Maybe a hundred years more, maybe less. I can't remember." - 'Okay, that was done.' Chiara gave him a disbelieving look: "Five thousand years?" Suddenly her face changed into a bright smile. "Great! Finally the right guy to help me with my studies!" He had hard to do with getting her off of him, when she embraced him wildly. "Hey, hey! Stop it! The fact that I can't die permanently doesn't mean that I can't die at all." "Sorry..." She let go off him. But with his arms also her smile disappeared and she became earnest again. "Will you tell me your real name - sometime?" "Maybe..." He really didn't know. There were only few people he trusted enough to tell them his name, the first he remembered, the one that became dangerous to bear lately. But she was special, wasn't she. 'Maybe...'
"Scion!" She whispered.
"What?"
TO BE CONTINUED...
sequel to "Adam Pierson is dead"
second in my "May God have mercy on your soul"-Series
---------------
...Methos had survived almost 1500 years the time the Egyptian troops invaded the land between the Euphrates and the Tigris - that was now more than three and a half thousand years ago. His home country was taken by surprise and the Egyptians drew a line of blood and destruction across it. They slaughtered, raped and took everything they could - not distinguishing between items and people. He himself had the questionable luck not to be pinned still alive on a wooden spear like the other men in his village. His physical advantages saved him, but led him into slavery. He was taken to Karnak where a lord called Intef bought him. Life wasn't bad at first. He was treaten well, got food and a place to sleep, and his tasks weren't unbearable - all in all it could have been worse. It even happened that he made friends with the other slaves and one that really impressed him: Taita. He was in his late twenties, tall and good looking - obviously Greek origin. And he was the first and only mortal Methos had ever met, that could keep up with himself- intellectual as well as physical. But soon his intact world broke into pieces, when his master began showing clear interest in his body. It wasn't unusual in those times that a man had a sexual relationship to another. On the contrary, it had been some kind of competition between the rich men to own the most beautiful and willingly so called body slaves. And from the first moment on Methos knew he would only survive any longer if he pleased his master, and he did. So he quickly became his favorite. But Intef's demands grew day by day and he became more and more brutal until Methos sometimes could hardly stand it. Yet he was able to do, 'cause he still wanted to live. But one day changed everything... Intef had sent Taita to bring him to his private rooms. And both knew the reason for it, but didn't talk about it. Instead Taita informed him: "Our Lord Intef isn't in his best mood today, Methos. Business didn't go well. And the new boy didn't please him, too." The slave went slowly at his side, but looked straightforward. Methos nodded: "I know. The child came to me afterwards, still crying. Intef wanted too much and he was afraid of doing it. Gods - he's only nine years old!" His voice was low but angry. And Taita turned around to face him. "Where is he now?" He asked concerned. "I think I should have a look at him." Methos knew Taita was the only one who was allowed to attend to the slaves injuries, but fortunately the boy hadn't been hurt. "No need. He's still in my room - sleeping." Silence spread out between them as they walked further to their master's rooms. Intef smiled as every time. But Methos knew it meant anything else than a friendly greeting. "Methos! Come over here and get on your knees!" He did as he was told and bowed his head between the other man's legs. Intef reached for his long, black hair and grabbed it tenderly first then intensifying his grab that it hurt. Methos ignored the pain, knowing his master wasn't going to stop if he showed it, but it would only lead into more cruelty. His head was now forced up, so he could see the growing lust in Intef's eyes, then back down again to last on his already bare groin. He was quite sure of what he wanted him to do next and so he started licking the other's more than ready cock, not recognizing the silken cord that suddenly appeared in Intef's hand. Methos didn't feel it until it was gently lain around his neck, but with the shivers of his master's orgasm it tightened, soon leaving him breathless for what seemed like eternity - although not long enough to release the pain and kill him. Sure, he wouldn't die permanently, but it hurt like hell every time he revived - nothing he longed for at the moment. And so he cried now and begged for his life. And it wasn't over now...
Chiara felt the warm hand that got her out of the vision. Thankful for the pure touch she lifted her head and smiled exhausted at O'Coerky, who was watching her questioning: "You're alright?" "Yeah, but.." She looked down, not knowing how to continue. She needed him close now to keep the pictures away from her. It seemed as if his bare presence could fill her mind, not allowing the visions to come back and torture her anymore. "Could you please stay...holding me?" He didn't answer, but suddenly she felt his body next to hers and his arms found their way caressing around her body. She let out a satisfied sigh and soon she drifted off into a dreamless and therefor restful sleep.
---------------
It wasn't long after dawn when Chiara was again drawn back into the world of brutality...
...The body she was in needed long to recover, but it got its time. The man in front of her wanted her to be in the best condition, that was possible after she had almost died not long ago. Looking down at herself she discovered that the body was male and only covered with a white loincloth. He coughed, trying to get in as much air as he could, only to cough again. But gradually he felt better. The other man smiled half concerned, half amused down at him. "I hope you're fine, my beloved Methos. `Cause you will continue pleasing me, won't you." He nodded not daring to look into the face of his tormentor. Instead he recognized that the other's cock hardened a second time. 'No...' That was the last thought left before Chiara felt the body was thrown on his stomach and compelled to lay motionless. The cord was still twisted around his neck and was now used to hold him in place. The man grabbed his right wrist, forcing it on his back and up to his neck, where he could take it in the other hand. Chiara felt the bones in the lower arm break and the shoulder dislocate. It sent waves of pain through the man's body she joined and caused a shrill scream. But the man above him wasn't done yet. Almost gently again he knelt down between his spread legs and moved the loincloth up, marking the skin with light touches. Then his fingers went deeper searching for the tight opening. And suddenly he was back, the demon that knew nothing but violence. He pushed his fingers, three at a time, hard into his ass, not caring about the blood that now lubricated the ring of muscles. "That's preparation enough." The demon mumbled grinning and replaced almost immediately his fingers with his cock. Three, four, five deep thrusts - the cord tightened painfully around his neck and Chiara witnessed his feelings of suffocating soon. They both - Chiara and her vision's ego - had now to concentrate on breathing, so the pressure inside was nearly forgotten, until the other man shoved that hard inside, that it must have caused real damage. But by the time he came and emptied himself in his slave, he strengthened his grab on the cord and pulled it right in his direction. Chiara heard the soft noise of her ego's breaking neck, and suddenly the world turned into a silent black...
...And back into a glaring white light, that hurt her eyes. She was sweating and hardly managed to breath, still lying in her bed, but with no one beside her. Where O'Coerky had been was only an empty space left - cold already. But Chiara didn't care any longer. 'No - no more. That's too much!' Tonight's vision had been more than she could stand. It had to be over... Calmly he sat up, recognizing the knife was still at the bedside table where she had left it. And she knew how to use it. With shaking fingers she placed it over her heart and plunged it into her chest, crying:
"FORGIVE ME...!!!"
The words echoed in the depth of his soul, leaving him unsure if he had really heard them. But all of the sudden the realization hit him. The girl...! He had only left her ten minutes ago to have a shower. He had thought it wouldn't matter - he shouldn't have left her!
"Noooo!" His feet didn't obey his order and he almost fell several times while heading for the bedroom. "No, you didn't dare it! Not with me in the next room."
But as soon as he reached the door he saw what he didn't want to believe. The girl lay on her back, the knife still in her body and her eyes were closed. There was no blood, 'cause until now the blade sealed the wound. And yes, her chest kept on moving - for now. But Methos was sure it wouldn't last long. He felt guilty, although he knew he couldn't have helped her. Only who would ask... Finally he collapsed beside her, holding her tight. She had the smile of an angel: "I'm sorry, I just couldn't..." "Shh, it's alright, Love. Don't speak." He whispered, closing her lips with his index finger. 'Oh Gods, please -' He spoke a silent prayer, addressing it to every god he knew: 'Please take her to where she can find her peace!' Noticing her heartbeat and respiration slowed down he gently led his lips to her forehead allowing them to rest there until he felt her getting cold. "I haven't even known your name..." And she had died like countless other people he had known, had loved. And he had to watch, couldn't do anything, always survived. Still holding her he wasn't able to do anything else than cry and lock the pain out of his mind for a long time...
---------------
Hours must have passed by until there were no tears left and Methos could clear his head enough again to raise, taking her lifeless body with him. He lay her down on her bed, crossing her arms over her chest and removed the knife. Without the pressure of the beating heart only little blood appeared. He wanted to do more, but recognizing he was still naked he went to get dressed. The flat was silent, too silent for him to stay any longer. With a last look around he reached the door and opened it a few inches, then stopped. He had to call the police if he didn't want them to believe that the girl had been murdered, what would lead the investigation to him right away in any case. 'Why not be faster...' He thought while closing the door and looked for the phone. It really was necessary, but nevertheless it wasn't something he liked to do very much.
Methos was just dialing the first number, when a stifled cry caught his attention. He wasn't sure about the direction it came from, nor if it was human. 'Gods, it could be everything!' But something made him checking the bedroom again. Maybe it was intuition or fate - he couldn't tell. However, it was the right move. The bed was empty, and when he went further he found the girl lying on the floor. Her breathing was uneven, but present. And Methos hurried to get to her, supporting her to sit up. "What the heck...You've been dead!" He wondered, but at the same time he asked himself: 'Fine, old man, what does surprise you this much? You're immortal yourself!' - 'Sure.' Another voice said inside his head. 'But she's not like you, you would have recognized it otherwise.' And they kept on arguing, what didn't help him at all. Instead he embraced her, just glad she came back, not asking for a reason. And he cried - even if he himself didn't realize it.
"Please -" Chiara whispered, trying to break free. "I can't breath..." But it wasn't only the hug, that let her nearly suffocate. The cut had opened one more time and the blood got into her lungs, so there was no more room left for air. She knew she wood soon die again - and come back. "I'm going to..." She had no idea how to explain it to O'Coerky, but he had already seen her reviving once; he had no choice but accept it. And she couldn't do anything. Chiara closed her eyes for a moment, and felt how she weakened. One more time she gasped for air, coughed blood. But O'Coerky watched her without batting an eyelid. He only caressed her cheek and smiled lightly. "I know..." His soft voice hardly reached her, but his warm hands relaxed her body and mind. And she faded, finally drifting into darkness.
---------------
"How often?" Hazel eyes stared at her. And the face they belonged to had a curios expression. Chiara had just awakened and didn't understand what he meant with his question. Therefor she asked with a sigh: "What?" "You got it, don't you - but slowly one more time, just for you, 'cause you had a very lousy day: How often have you tried to kill yourself?" He looked serious, and Chiara felt not comfortable with it. "Shit, what do you want to hear? That it was three times - although I knew it wouldn't work right after my first attempt? Or maybe that I died all in all five times and looked forward each death? - Or that I would do it again..." The words left her as did her ability to speak. She turned around, not wanting to see him any longer, and started to cry. She was mad - perhaps with him, perhaps with herself. It made no difference at all. She had not wanted this conversation to go this way. And now it had begun to slide off of her hands - nothing she liked much. O'Coerky hadn't reacted until now, so it was her turn again. This time more conciliatory: "I'm sorry. It's not your fault I'm this upset. As you said already, times were lousy- really lousy. And you were in the wrong locality just the wrong time. I didn't intend to involve anybody else." "But I already am involved, and that's why I feel some kind of responsible for you now." He took her chin, forcing her to face him. "And that's again why I have to dress your wound as soon as possible. And no argument!" Chiara was glad he smiled again. And of course she didn't protest...
"I think it's time to start over." Methos had just finished bandaging the girl's chest and headed now for the kitchen. He didn't wait for her to answer, but asked while rummaging through the cupboards: "You're hungry?" "Hm-hmm." "Fine. Anything special you'd like?" "Nope." Methos wasn't exactly in the right mood to cook, and besides his search wasn't successful, so he decided to order Italian food.
It didn't take long and they both were faced with a xxl-pizza and a huge helping of pasta, that kept them busy for more than twenty minutes. Methos was the first to speak again after also the last noodle had disappeared: "Can you imagine that I don't know your name yet? I've patched you up, I made a great meal for you, I already have slept in your bed - and I still don't know your name..." He could see her battle with herself to answer without bursting out laughing. "It's true, you've slept in my bed, but you didn't cook yourself! So don't think you're entitled to anything." She tried to look really serious, but somehow it didn't work. "Nevertheless, it isn't fair to let you die stupid." - 'If you would only know...' - "I'm Chiara, and I'm pleased to meet you!" Methos grabbed her offered hand and shook it. "Me, too. But..." - 'Bloody hell, this is going to be hard.' He could feel her expressions darken with his words. "But we need to talk."
"Okay, who's going to start?" O'Coerky lay on the couch, and nipped on a glass of the vine they had gotten with their food. The room was filled with music, Liszt as Chiara had chosen, but he looked as if he enjoyed it, too. His eyes were half closed and his fingers moved rhythmical. Chiara herself sat on the floor, legs crossed. She knew, he wanted her to speak, but she didn't like to. All she said was: "You." He only nodded, then put the glass on the table and stood up. Chiara could feel him becoming uneasy. But finally he started, letting out a sigh: "Ask!" It wasn't exactly what she had expected. But okay, she would do it: "You didn't seem very surprised when I came back..." "That's not a question." He gave her a little smile, but his eyes were cold and looked through her. "Right. So - why?" She got nervous watching him running through the room like a cat of prey in a cage. If he wasn't going to stay still soon, she would make him to. And fortunately he did in front of the window and now stared out of it. "'Cause I myself am immortal." He said in a low but firm voice. Almost to low for her to get it. And, yes, she must have misunderstood him. 'Immortal?' - How was it possible that anyone, except herself, wasn't able to die? He must have read her thoughts, 'cause he went on explaining: "As long as world itself exists there always have been some people like me, people who called themselves 'Immortals'. We are mortal until we die for the first time. After it we can only be killed if we are beheaded." He turned around, now looking at her questioning. "Usually...we recognize each other." Something went awfully wrong. Fine, they both were immortal, but why did he seem so uncertain? "Usually?" Chiara wasn't sure if she really wanted to know. "It's just that I didn't recognize you as one of us. So, either you aren't of my kind or... What the hell, you are immortal, I can tell! But - " O'Coerky went to the kitchen and came back with a knife in his hand. He sat down beside her and pointed at her wrist. "I had to stitch that, you remember. And now watch!" He made a deep cut at his own wrist and Chiara had to stifle a cry. It drew blood, but almost immediately the wound healed accompanied by blue lightening, she noticed amazed. She could see the problem now. What had killed her two times caused only a few drops of blood on him. And there was no scar left, in contrary to what she had to expect. "Oh - okay." She didn't find words. Instead she went now to pour herself a glass of wine, too. "You want another?" She asked sitting down again. "Sure, thanks." He handed her his own glass.
"What about Adam Pierson?" Methos had just fallen asleep, dreaming of Bora-Bora, when Chiara's question awakened him, carrying him away from the sun and the warm sand and the palm trees... "What?" He asked sleepy, not willing to open his eyes. "Adam Pierson." That made him finally opening them. It was time to be completely honest, he knew. But it didn't become easier. And honesty wasn't exactly something he was well used to at all... "One of my identities, like O'Coerky now." He simply answered, waiting for her to go further. He in any case wouldn't push it. "So, actually how old are you? I mean - One of your identities?" She looked confused but serious at the same time, Methos recognized. And somehow it suited her very well. 'Hold that thought, old man, but you've got other things to do right now!' "I'm old - the oldest, I confess." Methos tried a grin. "Five thousand years. Maybe a hundred years more, maybe less. I can't remember." - 'Okay, that was done.' Chiara gave him a disbelieving look: "Five thousand years?" Suddenly her face changed into a bright smile. "Great! Finally the right guy to help me with my studies!" He had hard to do with getting her off of him, when she embraced him wildly. "Hey, hey! Stop it! The fact that I can't die permanently doesn't mean that I can't die at all." "Sorry..." She let go off him. But with his arms also her smile disappeared and she became earnest again. "Will you tell me your real name - sometime?" "Maybe..." He really didn't know. There were only few people he trusted enough to tell them his name, the first he remembered, the one that became dangerous to bear lately. But she was special, wasn't she. 'Maybe...'
"Scion!" She whispered.
"What?"
TO BE CONTINUED...