WHATEVER IS NECESSARY
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by Sannah
sequel to "Adam Pierson is dead" and "Scion"
third in my "May God have mercy on your soul"-Series
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"Scion! My beloved son..." Chiara had slumped down and her eyes were nearly black. She didn't seem to be herself anymore. 'A vision.' Methos guessed. 'Sure. That's what it's all about. - But who was she now?' And why had he the feeling deep inside, he knew this name from times long passed by... She smiled gently at him, like a mother would do on her child. 'Mother...' "Mother?!" Could it be? Could it be his mother - the one that came nearest to it at least, the one that had raised him and had loved him - speaking through the girl in front of him? "Yes, my dear." She answered, lightly nodding. "It's me." "I'm... I don't know... It's just that I don't..." He was too confused now to speak. He couldn't believe it at all. And silently a tear rolled down his cheek. "You don't remember me, do you." No reproach, only a statement. "It's alright." "So tell me what I've forgotten then! Please..." So many years went by, so many people had appeared and disappeared again, and he could remember most. But not the one that was more important than any. He had tried so hard over the centuries to get her picture back in his head, but it didn't work, so he finally had given up. And now she was here, she could bring back the memories he wanted so much to be part of him again...
"It had been a hard year for our tribe. It hadn't rained for more than a year in the region we had settled down and so your father - as the chief - had decided for the tribe to move on. Although I had already been pregnant this time we had to go, 'cause we both knew neither me nor the child would have survived if we didn't find a new place to cultivate grain soon. "We were still on the journey when the time came for me to bear. As it had been custom I had to leave the others to get the child alone with no one to watch or help. I finally found a small river, so it would be easier for me to get through it in the water. But suddenly I heard the sound of a crying baby somewhere near. And I saw you. You couldn't have been older than a few days - you were so small, but although you were all alone and really hungry you were healthy and strong. I offered you my milk and you couldn't get enough for quite a long time. But at last my own child couldn't wait any longer. "When she was born and I had recovered enough to get back to the tribe, there had been no question to take you with me. Nobody would ask, 'cause it happened sometimes that twins were born and they didn't know I hadn't. "Your father was glad to see me and his descendants in best condition and he was even more glad and proud when he discovered it was a girl and a boy, you, who would follow him as the chief. We called the girl Tamar and in honor of your father you got the name Scion. But I had my own, secret reason for it, so I had found you under one of those rare trees. I had never dared to tell him... "The two of you grew up as brother and sister. Both you were beautiful and clever and everybody loved you. Your father often took you with him while hunting or to the fields and you soon became strong and got knowledge of all the things you had to learn. "Tamar found a wonderful husband when she was old enough and you yourself took a wife to your tent only a few months later..."
Methos listened to her carefully and suddenly the memories came back, clearly as if they had never been forgotten...
...Her name was Hamadi and she had been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen- except Tamar and his mother. She was little younger than him and her hair was as black as his own, in contrary to the red-brown color of most people's hair around them. He loved her truly and deep and it had been wonderful years with her at his side, although there had been no children. But it made no difference for him. And she never showed him her longing. Nevertheless he knew she wanted an own child, but there had been no chance. All he could do was to offer her even more love. So the years passed by until one day destroyed everything he had...
Methos fought the pictures that invaded his mind and concentrated on Chiara again. "I love you, my little Scion, I always have and will!" With these words she closed her eyes and collapsed on the floor.
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"What has happened?" Chiara felt totally exhausted and didn't remember the last minutes. But somehow she knew she had had another vision. And from the way O'Coerky looked at her it must have been something related to him. If she could only remember! "You gave me back my past." He said calmly and supported her sitting up. "And I wanna thank you." He took her into a gently embrace and she could feel him shiver. Finally he gave her free with a sigh. "You have the gift, right?" He didn't expect an answer, but she nodded. It was all she could do to explain and he understood - he understood everything. They didn't need to talk about what was obvious by now. She could tell, he knew that the visions had been the reason for her to kill herself. And he silently accepted it. "I have a friend who could help. I mean, not only with the pictures, but maybe he is able to find out, why you can't die. He knows about the Immortals." O'Coerky stood up and reached for the phone. "I'll call him. He could be here tomorrow." He didn't wait for her to agree and somehow Chiara was glad he took the decision away from her. Probably it was the best thing to do to let him do whatever he thought was necessary. He surely wanted to help her and she wanted to be helped.
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"Joe's Bar, Dawson." Methos paused a moment not sure what to say. He hadn't seen Joe for more than three years and Gods know how he would react. But finally he dared to speak: "Joe, it's me." "Adam?" He could hear the other man's surprise in his voice. But he didn't seem to be angry or hurt. No, he even was happy. They had been friends for almost fourteen years until Methos had run away. And the fact that he hadn't say goodbye when he disappeared had made Methos expect, that Joe would at least be colder now hearing from him again. But if he bore him a grudge for leaving like he had, he didn't show. "Yeah, but it's Leonnard O'Coerky now." "Okay, you're alright? I mean there has to be a reason for you to let me know right now you're still alive. Problems?" As usual he knew the motives of people before they could say a word. "Yep, but it's not about me. You know I'm a survivor. But..." How should he tell him there was a girl who wasn't an Immortal but nevertheless she couldn't die?! 'Get through it, old man!' "But?" Joe asked. His voice sounded a little curious, although he tried to hide it. But Methos himself knew this man good enough to guess what he was thinking. He wouldn't have to wait long... "But I've met someone who needs our help. You'll like her!" That would work. And it did. "An Immortal." "Yes and no, but that's a really long story. Maybe you could just fly over here and find it out yourself." "You made me curious." - 'I know!' Methos grinned. "But there's a question left." Joe continued. "Where exactly are you?" 'Oops, forgotten to tell?' "Galway, Ireland. I'll pick you up at the airport. When, you think, will you be here?" Fine, no room for arguing... "Tomorrow, I'm not sure, but there should be a flight around noon. I..." "I'll be there! Bye, Joe. Wait..." - Shit, he had to ask. "Will you take MacLeod with you?" Methos could nearly feel the man tense up. Probably he shouldn't have mentioned him. Surely the incidents weren't forgotten by now. And even if Joe had forgiven him, Mac wouldn't have... "Let's see." A click and the connection was cut off.
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It was one in the afternoon and Methos had left Chiara in the apartment to pick Joe up. The airport was crowded but he recognized the tall man with the gray beard almost immediately. He was alone. But what had he expected? Forcing himself to smile he went to greet him. "Hi, Joe! You had a nice flight?" The man returned the smile and nodded: "Yes. Good to see you, Methos!" His eyes showed he meant it like he said it. So at least their friendship wasn't destroyed... "Good to see you, too!" A short embrace and then Methos took the other's bag and they headed for his car. None of them touched upon what had happened three years ago, and Methos was glad about it. This wasn't exactly the right time and person to discuss it. And there was still Chiara waiting for them. He didn't like it to leave her alone, but she had convinced him. 'Maybe the two of you like to have some time for old stories.' She had said. He didn't tell her that right this wasn't what he wanted. Sure, he had missed Joe sometimes for they had been close friends. But nevertheless Joe was connected to too many things he wanted to forget. And that was also why they hardly talked at all on their drive to Chiara's apartment.
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Chiara watched the man O'Coerky had introduced as Joe Dawson with shy interest. He was old, well, compared to her. He was in his fifties and his hair had already turned into white and gray. But his charisma was warm and friendly. And O'Coerky and him seemed to be really close friends, and the fact that O'Coerky trusted him enough to let him into their secret made her relax a little. Nevertheless he was a stranger to her and she wasn't sure about opening herself to him completely. She could feel the two men were talking about her and she didn't mind. That left less for her to explain. "... can't do a bloody thing about it! I know ..." Chiara heard Dawson say and he gave her a quick glance. 'Great!' She thought. 'Everything in vain.' She didn't exactly know who she was sorry for. Him, 'cause he came from Paris just to find out he wasn't able to do anything - or herself, 'cause she had hoped so badly to be helped... She shook her head, fighting these thoughts. Maybe she had just misunderstood it. At least that left a chance.
"Chiara?" She hadn't noticed that they had stopped their conversation and was surprised now as O'Coerky sat down beside her on the couch. Dawson took the armchair opposite to her and she could see he had difficulties to place himself on it. She had recognized his cane before but hadn't put much attention on it. Now she speculated about him having problems with his legs. Probably she would find out some time. At the moment at any rate she had to concentrate on the following instead of thinking about it. "Should I leave you alone?" O'Coerky suddenly asked. And quickly he added: "Anyway I have to get some things. So, I'm leaving!" Chiara could only nod. And a second later the door closed behind him. Dawson hadn't said a word and she felt uncomfortable alone with him. But she could no longer change it. So she capitulated to the situation and waited for him to speak first.
Joe studied the girl in front of him with the curiosity that hadn't left him since Methos had called the day before. She couldn't be older than 21 and from what he had heard about her she had gone through hell during the last days. The old Immortal had told him all he himself knew, what wasn't much at all. But what interested him as a watcher the most was that she didn't seem to be one of the kind he was used to. He knew from Methos about her visions and also about her suicides. But as well as the other man he had no idea what they were about, except the one that told Methos about his past. And that left the hardest job for him - as usual, by the way. That thought caused a bitter grin and he hoped Chiara hadn't seen it. It was not about her, so she had not to rack her brain over it. It had to be already difficult enough for her...
"Maybe it's stupid to ask, but how are you?" It was stupid. Chiara really had seen better days. But nevertheless it sounded so sympathetic, that she couldn't help but smile. "As can be expected under the circumstances, I would say. But thanks." Something had to happen soon, otherwise this could become very ineffective and therefor useless. But it was certainly not her to take the first step. Fortunately he took it. "Okay, I know it's not easy, but you must be sure you can trust me." "I'll try..." She really did. At least she wanted to do. "Fine." He let out a sigh. "Let's start with your family. Do you know if you're adopted?" "No, I'm not. I mean, I've seen my birth-certificate and lots of baby- photos." And she remembered her parents with love. Hell, her first memory was her mother. "I see. But you have to know that Immortals are always adopted. At least as far as I know by now..."
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It was two hours later when Methos opened the door to Chiara's apartment again. He hoped it had been time enough for Joe and Chiara to talk, but not too long for the girl to go crazy. And he knew Joe could cause it. It was in his nature that once he found something interesting he didn't know when to stop. He had experienced it several times on himself. Relieved he discovered Chiara laughing and Joe giggling with a glass of wine in his right hand that was in danger to lose its contents. Fortunately he hadn't to care about the vine, 'cause he had bought lots of beer for himself. Oh, how he had missed beer during the last days! "I'm back!" No answer. He slammed the door loudly and tried his greeting again: "Hellooo! I'm baaack!" This time he got a reaction. Chiara waved her hand, not looking at him at all and pointed on the couch. "Oh, hi! Have a seat." "Maybe later. I'm in the kitchen - if it should happen that you look for me." He mumbled that last part, but he was sure, even if he hadn't they wouldn't have recognized it. They were still laughing at a joke he certainly didn't want to hear. Probably Joe had told her old stories - more probably about him, Methos. 'Okay, why not, if it makes her feel better.' And it did. He hadn't seen her this happy since the day he'd met her. And it looked good to him. She had a wonderful smile and with every giggle her whole body jumped. He really loved to watch her. 'But enough is enough!' He thought when he started to become jealous. It should have been him, who made her laugh...
"You mind me interrupt you?" Methos had positioned himself behind Chiara and placed one hand on her shoulder, in the other hand a bottle of beer. Joe grinned at him innocently. "Never." Whatever they were talking about before this caused another stifled giggle on the girl. But she soon calmed down again. "You went shopping?" She asked and looked at him with big eyes. "Yep." "You bought something for meal?" "Yep. - Oh, no! I'm not going to cook!" She couldn't expect him to. Could she? She could. "Fine, so nobody will. I mean, I've never prepared a real meal. And Joe had a long day. I'm afraid you're the only one left. And Joe told me you're a great cook." "Well, that's true." Why did compliments always convince him? But nevertheless he wouldn't do it alone. "You two are going to help, understand?!" "Aye." Chiara gave in and the Watcher nodded agreeing.
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They were sitting around the table on which the leftovers of the indeed fantastic meal were waiting for someone to take pity on them. Joe rubbed satisfied his stomach and yawned: "It's about time. I'm an old man and have to sleep." "Good point." Methos gave him a short look. "By the way, we have to find a hotel first." "There's a good one nearby." Chiara threw in. "But you don't have to leave." "Oh, I do. There's hardly enough space for you in here." And with it he stood up and shook hands with her. Methos imitated his doings, but not without an excuse: "Chiara, Deary, I'm so sorry to leave you with the dishes, but I have to help Joe with his bags." Bad excuse, okay. But she accepted it smiling knowingly: "I see." Then she kissed him on his cheek and led him gently pushing to the door. "Get out of here." She also kissed Joe and closed the door behind them. Methos waited until he was sure she had locked it, then followed the other man.
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"She doesn't know you're Methos, eh." The old Immortal stared out the window without answering. Joe tried it again: "I found out her problem." Methos quickly turned around. "What?" Joe continued: "Well, at least I know now what her visions are about - or better who." "Who, then. Tell me, Joe, or I swear you'll never say anything again!" Methos didn't know exactly if his menace was meant serious. But he was tired of Joe's games. It was hard enough to see Chiara endure, they both didn't need a Watcher who was playing 'I know something, you don't' with them. "You! Methos, they are all about you!" "What?" "Again, you. She experiences what you did, what you felt. Your childhood, as you know. Your times as a slave. The centuries with Kronos. Even the last few years. But for her it happens in such a short time, that she can't bear it. And you know best yourself that you've gone through horrible things..." Joe shook his head with resignation. And Methos took a deep gulp of his beer. He really needed it now. What Joe had just told him explained almost everything. What she's seen was more than a mortal life could take. He himself after more than five thousand years hadn't been able to digest it. How was she supposed to? But there was still the question left about her immortality. Who could want her to suffer like that? No, he didn't want to think about it, he wasn't strong enough now. It was selfish, he knew. But he couldn't help it... "What were you laughing about when I came back?" He asked changing the topic, glad Joe accepted it. "I told her how you first met Gina and Robert, and how you talked Duncan into giving you the barge. Actually, she already knew it. But after all it's still too funny..." 'Shit, that's not what I meant with changing the topic.' MacLeod could become a bigger problem - for him - than Chiara was by now. 'You're selfish again, old man!' Yes, he indeed was. But MacLeod could kill him, and probably was going to, Chiara's visions wouldn't do it. And Methos was still a survivor... Joe must have read in his face what he was thinking, 'cause he suddenly stopped grinning and reached for his beer. The minutes passed by and Methos wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what he was about to ask. Maybe Duncan had long forgiven him? 'No, not his the-world's-only-black-and-white'-Boyscout.' But how could he expect him to? He run away, not giving them the chance to talk things over. He certainly owed Duncan an explanation. So he needed to know: "Is Mac going to come?" Joe didn't let go of his bottle while shrugging his shoulders. "I told him you'd called and where you were. - It's up to him now." "Yeah..." So much about that. "What will you do about Chiara?" Methos finally asked changing topics again. Joe sighed: "Whatever is necessary to help her through it. First, I think, I'll go through the chronicles. Maybe I find a similar case in there. At least something we can work with." Methos nodded. "I'll leave you alone, then. See you tomorrow! And, Joe, thanks - for everything." "Yes. And now get out of here!" He smiled halfheartedly.
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Methos had decided to stop over at his own apartment to get some stuff he needed before going back to Chiara. And besides, he needed time for himself to think, too. He had just parked the car in front of the building when he felt the presence of another Immortal and somehow, maybe because of the double- quickening, he knew it was MacLeod. "Great timing..." He thought, not recognizing he spoke it out loud until the other man answered. "I've tried my best." MacLeod stood at the beginning of a nearby alley. There was not much light, so Methos didn't discover the drawn sword before getting too close to escape. And his own one was still in its sheath under his coat. "Fine, MacLeod. You got me." He said, pretending to be bored. "And what are you going to do now?" He better hadn't asked. Methos felt how MacLeod placed the blade against his neck, hard enough to draw some blood. Finally he said: "Whatever is necessary." Methos remembered having heard this sentence before. But the last time was much more reassuring...
TO BE CONTINUED...
sequel to "Adam Pierson is dead" and "Scion"
third in my "May God have mercy on your soul"-Series
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"Scion! My beloved son..." Chiara had slumped down and her eyes were nearly black. She didn't seem to be herself anymore. 'A vision.' Methos guessed. 'Sure. That's what it's all about. - But who was she now?' And why had he the feeling deep inside, he knew this name from times long passed by... She smiled gently at him, like a mother would do on her child. 'Mother...' "Mother?!" Could it be? Could it be his mother - the one that came nearest to it at least, the one that had raised him and had loved him - speaking through the girl in front of him? "Yes, my dear." She answered, lightly nodding. "It's me." "I'm... I don't know... It's just that I don't..." He was too confused now to speak. He couldn't believe it at all. And silently a tear rolled down his cheek. "You don't remember me, do you." No reproach, only a statement. "It's alright." "So tell me what I've forgotten then! Please..." So many years went by, so many people had appeared and disappeared again, and he could remember most. But not the one that was more important than any. He had tried so hard over the centuries to get her picture back in his head, but it didn't work, so he finally had given up. And now she was here, she could bring back the memories he wanted so much to be part of him again...
"It had been a hard year for our tribe. It hadn't rained for more than a year in the region we had settled down and so your father - as the chief - had decided for the tribe to move on. Although I had already been pregnant this time we had to go, 'cause we both knew neither me nor the child would have survived if we didn't find a new place to cultivate grain soon. "We were still on the journey when the time came for me to bear. As it had been custom I had to leave the others to get the child alone with no one to watch or help. I finally found a small river, so it would be easier for me to get through it in the water. But suddenly I heard the sound of a crying baby somewhere near. And I saw you. You couldn't have been older than a few days - you were so small, but although you were all alone and really hungry you were healthy and strong. I offered you my milk and you couldn't get enough for quite a long time. But at last my own child couldn't wait any longer. "When she was born and I had recovered enough to get back to the tribe, there had been no question to take you with me. Nobody would ask, 'cause it happened sometimes that twins were born and they didn't know I hadn't. "Your father was glad to see me and his descendants in best condition and he was even more glad and proud when he discovered it was a girl and a boy, you, who would follow him as the chief. We called the girl Tamar and in honor of your father you got the name Scion. But I had my own, secret reason for it, so I had found you under one of those rare trees. I had never dared to tell him... "The two of you grew up as brother and sister. Both you were beautiful and clever and everybody loved you. Your father often took you with him while hunting or to the fields and you soon became strong and got knowledge of all the things you had to learn. "Tamar found a wonderful husband when she was old enough and you yourself took a wife to your tent only a few months later..."
Methos listened to her carefully and suddenly the memories came back, clearly as if they had never been forgotten...
...Her name was Hamadi and she had been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen- except Tamar and his mother. She was little younger than him and her hair was as black as his own, in contrary to the red-brown color of most people's hair around them. He loved her truly and deep and it had been wonderful years with her at his side, although there had been no children. But it made no difference for him. And she never showed him her longing. Nevertheless he knew she wanted an own child, but there had been no chance. All he could do was to offer her even more love. So the years passed by until one day destroyed everything he had...
Methos fought the pictures that invaded his mind and concentrated on Chiara again. "I love you, my little Scion, I always have and will!" With these words she closed her eyes and collapsed on the floor.
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"What has happened?" Chiara felt totally exhausted and didn't remember the last minutes. But somehow she knew she had had another vision. And from the way O'Coerky looked at her it must have been something related to him. If she could only remember! "You gave me back my past." He said calmly and supported her sitting up. "And I wanna thank you." He took her into a gently embrace and she could feel him shiver. Finally he gave her free with a sigh. "You have the gift, right?" He didn't expect an answer, but she nodded. It was all she could do to explain and he understood - he understood everything. They didn't need to talk about what was obvious by now. She could tell, he knew that the visions had been the reason for her to kill herself. And he silently accepted it. "I have a friend who could help. I mean, not only with the pictures, but maybe he is able to find out, why you can't die. He knows about the Immortals." O'Coerky stood up and reached for the phone. "I'll call him. He could be here tomorrow." He didn't wait for her to agree and somehow Chiara was glad he took the decision away from her. Probably it was the best thing to do to let him do whatever he thought was necessary. He surely wanted to help her and she wanted to be helped.
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"Joe's Bar, Dawson." Methos paused a moment not sure what to say. He hadn't seen Joe for more than three years and Gods know how he would react. But finally he dared to speak: "Joe, it's me." "Adam?" He could hear the other man's surprise in his voice. But he didn't seem to be angry or hurt. No, he even was happy. They had been friends for almost fourteen years until Methos had run away. And the fact that he hadn't say goodbye when he disappeared had made Methos expect, that Joe would at least be colder now hearing from him again. But if he bore him a grudge for leaving like he had, he didn't show. "Yeah, but it's Leonnard O'Coerky now." "Okay, you're alright? I mean there has to be a reason for you to let me know right now you're still alive. Problems?" As usual he knew the motives of people before they could say a word. "Yep, but it's not about me. You know I'm a survivor. But..." How should he tell him there was a girl who wasn't an Immortal but nevertheless she couldn't die?! 'Get through it, old man!' "But?" Joe asked. His voice sounded a little curious, although he tried to hide it. But Methos himself knew this man good enough to guess what he was thinking. He wouldn't have to wait long... "But I've met someone who needs our help. You'll like her!" That would work. And it did. "An Immortal." "Yes and no, but that's a really long story. Maybe you could just fly over here and find it out yourself." "You made me curious." - 'I know!' Methos grinned. "But there's a question left." Joe continued. "Where exactly are you?" 'Oops, forgotten to tell?' "Galway, Ireland. I'll pick you up at the airport. When, you think, will you be here?" Fine, no room for arguing... "Tomorrow, I'm not sure, but there should be a flight around noon. I..." "I'll be there! Bye, Joe. Wait..." - Shit, he had to ask. "Will you take MacLeod with you?" Methos could nearly feel the man tense up. Probably he shouldn't have mentioned him. Surely the incidents weren't forgotten by now. And even if Joe had forgiven him, Mac wouldn't have... "Let's see." A click and the connection was cut off.
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It was one in the afternoon and Methos had left Chiara in the apartment to pick Joe up. The airport was crowded but he recognized the tall man with the gray beard almost immediately. He was alone. But what had he expected? Forcing himself to smile he went to greet him. "Hi, Joe! You had a nice flight?" The man returned the smile and nodded: "Yes. Good to see you, Methos!" His eyes showed he meant it like he said it. So at least their friendship wasn't destroyed... "Good to see you, too!" A short embrace and then Methos took the other's bag and they headed for his car. None of them touched upon what had happened three years ago, and Methos was glad about it. This wasn't exactly the right time and person to discuss it. And there was still Chiara waiting for them. He didn't like it to leave her alone, but she had convinced him. 'Maybe the two of you like to have some time for old stories.' She had said. He didn't tell her that right this wasn't what he wanted. Sure, he had missed Joe sometimes for they had been close friends. But nevertheless Joe was connected to too many things he wanted to forget. And that was also why they hardly talked at all on their drive to Chiara's apartment.
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Chiara watched the man O'Coerky had introduced as Joe Dawson with shy interest. He was old, well, compared to her. He was in his fifties and his hair had already turned into white and gray. But his charisma was warm and friendly. And O'Coerky and him seemed to be really close friends, and the fact that O'Coerky trusted him enough to let him into their secret made her relax a little. Nevertheless he was a stranger to her and she wasn't sure about opening herself to him completely. She could feel the two men were talking about her and she didn't mind. That left less for her to explain. "... can't do a bloody thing about it! I know ..." Chiara heard Dawson say and he gave her a quick glance. 'Great!' She thought. 'Everything in vain.' She didn't exactly know who she was sorry for. Him, 'cause he came from Paris just to find out he wasn't able to do anything - or herself, 'cause she had hoped so badly to be helped... She shook her head, fighting these thoughts. Maybe she had just misunderstood it. At least that left a chance.
"Chiara?" She hadn't noticed that they had stopped their conversation and was surprised now as O'Coerky sat down beside her on the couch. Dawson took the armchair opposite to her and she could see he had difficulties to place himself on it. She had recognized his cane before but hadn't put much attention on it. Now she speculated about him having problems with his legs. Probably she would find out some time. At the moment at any rate she had to concentrate on the following instead of thinking about it. "Should I leave you alone?" O'Coerky suddenly asked. And quickly he added: "Anyway I have to get some things. So, I'm leaving!" Chiara could only nod. And a second later the door closed behind him. Dawson hadn't said a word and she felt uncomfortable alone with him. But she could no longer change it. So she capitulated to the situation and waited for him to speak first.
Joe studied the girl in front of him with the curiosity that hadn't left him since Methos had called the day before. She couldn't be older than 21 and from what he had heard about her she had gone through hell during the last days. The old Immortal had told him all he himself knew, what wasn't much at all. But what interested him as a watcher the most was that she didn't seem to be one of the kind he was used to. He knew from Methos about her visions and also about her suicides. But as well as the other man he had no idea what they were about, except the one that told Methos about his past. And that left the hardest job for him - as usual, by the way. That thought caused a bitter grin and he hoped Chiara hadn't seen it. It was not about her, so she had not to rack her brain over it. It had to be already difficult enough for her...
"Maybe it's stupid to ask, but how are you?" It was stupid. Chiara really had seen better days. But nevertheless it sounded so sympathetic, that she couldn't help but smile. "As can be expected under the circumstances, I would say. But thanks." Something had to happen soon, otherwise this could become very ineffective and therefor useless. But it was certainly not her to take the first step. Fortunately he took it. "Okay, I know it's not easy, but you must be sure you can trust me." "I'll try..." She really did. At least she wanted to do. "Fine." He let out a sigh. "Let's start with your family. Do you know if you're adopted?" "No, I'm not. I mean, I've seen my birth-certificate and lots of baby- photos." And she remembered her parents with love. Hell, her first memory was her mother. "I see. But you have to know that Immortals are always adopted. At least as far as I know by now..."
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It was two hours later when Methos opened the door to Chiara's apartment again. He hoped it had been time enough for Joe and Chiara to talk, but not too long for the girl to go crazy. And he knew Joe could cause it. It was in his nature that once he found something interesting he didn't know when to stop. He had experienced it several times on himself. Relieved he discovered Chiara laughing and Joe giggling with a glass of wine in his right hand that was in danger to lose its contents. Fortunately he hadn't to care about the vine, 'cause he had bought lots of beer for himself. Oh, how he had missed beer during the last days! "I'm back!" No answer. He slammed the door loudly and tried his greeting again: "Hellooo! I'm baaack!" This time he got a reaction. Chiara waved her hand, not looking at him at all and pointed on the couch. "Oh, hi! Have a seat." "Maybe later. I'm in the kitchen - if it should happen that you look for me." He mumbled that last part, but he was sure, even if he hadn't they wouldn't have recognized it. They were still laughing at a joke he certainly didn't want to hear. Probably Joe had told her old stories - more probably about him, Methos. 'Okay, why not, if it makes her feel better.' And it did. He hadn't seen her this happy since the day he'd met her. And it looked good to him. She had a wonderful smile and with every giggle her whole body jumped. He really loved to watch her. 'But enough is enough!' He thought when he started to become jealous. It should have been him, who made her laugh...
"You mind me interrupt you?" Methos had positioned himself behind Chiara and placed one hand on her shoulder, in the other hand a bottle of beer. Joe grinned at him innocently. "Never." Whatever they were talking about before this caused another stifled giggle on the girl. But she soon calmed down again. "You went shopping?" She asked and looked at him with big eyes. "Yep." "You bought something for meal?" "Yep. - Oh, no! I'm not going to cook!" She couldn't expect him to. Could she? She could. "Fine, so nobody will. I mean, I've never prepared a real meal. And Joe had a long day. I'm afraid you're the only one left. And Joe told me you're a great cook." "Well, that's true." Why did compliments always convince him? But nevertheless he wouldn't do it alone. "You two are going to help, understand?!" "Aye." Chiara gave in and the Watcher nodded agreeing.
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They were sitting around the table on which the leftovers of the indeed fantastic meal were waiting for someone to take pity on them. Joe rubbed satisfied his stomach and yawned: "It's about time. I'm an old man and have to sleep." "Good point." Methos gave him a short look. "By the way, we have to find a hotel first." "There's a good one nearby." Chiara threw in. "But you don't have to leave." "Oh, I do. There's hardly enough space for you in here." And with it he stood up and shook hands with her. Methos imitated his doings, but not without an excuse: "Chiara, Deary, I'm so sorry to leave you with the dishes, but I have to help Joe with his bags." Bad excuse, okay. But she accepted it smiling knowingly: "I see." Then she kissed him on his cheek and led him gently pushing to the door. "Get out of here." She also kissed Joe and closed the door behind them. Methos waited until he was sure she had locked it, then followed the other man.
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"She doesn't know you're Methos, eh." The old Immortal stared out the window without answering. Joe tried it again: "I found out her problem." Methos quickly turned around. "What?" Joe continued: "Well, at least I know now what her visions are about - or better who." "Who, then. Tell me, Joe, or I swear you'll never say anything again!" Methos didn't know exactly if his menace was meant serious. But he was tired of Joe's games. It was hard enough to see Chiara endure, they both didn't need a Watcher who was playing 'I know something, you don't' with them. "You! Methos, they are all about you!" "What?" "Again, you. She experiences what you did, what you felt. Your childhood, as you know. Your times as a slave. The centuries with Kronos. Even the last few years. But for her it happens in such a short time, that she can't bear it. And you know best yourself that you've gone through horrible things..." Joe shook his head with resignation. And Methos took a deep gulp of his beer. He really needed it now. What Joe had just told him explained almost everything. What she's seen was more than a mortal life could take. He himself after more than five thousand years hadn't been able to digest it. How was she supposed to? But there was still the question left about her immortality. Who could want her to suffer like that? No, he didn't want to think about it, he wasn't strong enough now. It was selfish, he knew. But he couldn't help it... "What were you laughing about when I came back?" He asked changing the topic, glad Joe accepted it. "I told her how you first met Gina and Robert, and how you talked Duncan into giving you the barge. Actually, she already knew it. But after all it's still too funny..." 'Shit, that's not what I meant with changing the topic.' MacLeod could become a bigger problem - for him - than Chiara was by now. 'You're selfish again, old man!' Yes, he indeed was. But MacLeod could kill him, and probably was going to, Chiara's visions wouldn't do it. And Methos was still a survivor... Joe must have read in his face what he was thinking, 'cause he suddenly stopped grinning and reached for his beer. The minutes passed by and Methos wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what he was about to ask. Maybe Duncan had long forgiven him? 'No, not his the-world's-only-black-and-white'-Boyscout.' But how could he expect him to? He run away, not giving them the chance to talk things over. He certainly owed Duncan an explanation. So he needed to know: "Is Mac going to come?" Joe didn't let go of his bottle while shrugging his shoulders. "I told him you'd called and where you were. - It's up to him now." "Yeah..." So much about that. "What will you do about Chiara?" Methos finally asked changing topics again. Joe sighed: "Whatever is necessary to help her through it. First, I think, I'll go through the chronicles. Maybe I find a similar case in there. At least something we can work with." Methos nodded. "I'll leave you alone, then. See you tomorrow! And, Joe, thanks - for everything." "Yes. And now get out of here!" He smiled halfheartedly.
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Methos had decided to stop over at his own apartment to get some stuff he needed before going back to Chiara. And besides, he needed time for himself to think, too. He had just parked the car in front of the building when he felt the presence of another Immortal and somehow, maybe because of the double- quickening, he knew it was MacLeod. "Great timing..." He thought, not recognizing he spoke it out loud until the other man answered. "I've tried my best." MacLeod stood at the beginning of a nearby alley. There was not much light, so Methos didn't discover the drawn sword before getting too close to escape. And his own one was still in its sheath under his coat. "Fine, MacLeod. You got me." He said, pretending to be bored. "And what are you going to do now?" He better hadn't asked. Methos felt how MacLeod placed the blade against his neck, hard enough to draw some blood. Finally he said: "Whatever is necessary." Methos remembered having heard this sentence before. But the last time was much more reassuring...
TO BE CONTINUED...