Disclaimer: I don't own them, etc.
Rating: PG-13 / 12A
Series: The "Rebirth" series.
Warnings: Crossover universe - The Sentinel/Highlander.
Summary: Methos delivers his message…
Seven Memories in Tibet
By NorthernStar
The air was thin and crisp, sun bright in the clear sky. Colourful prayer flags flapped overhead, tattered and torn. How many had he left over the years? How many were Blair's? Methos let his gaze wander over the old monastery, noting the little changes and heavy hand of time wearing the walls. It had been nearly 30 years since he'd last visited; a blink of an eye really, but long enough for the mortals he had known and come to respect to have aged or died.
As he approached, pack heavy on his back, he caught glimpses of the monks in passing. Some faces he recognised, most he did not. A few paces from the door, the brush of an Immortal pressed on his senses and he stopped.
"Methos."
He turned at his name, recognising the harsh rasp of the only monk here not to have aged a day.
He broke into a smile. "Ingsel."
The wrinkled Immortal clasped Methos' hands in his weather beaten pair. "Keh-rang ku-su de-bo yin-peh?"
The truth seemed hard to bear so he simply replied. "I am well." He let the hands fall away. "And my friend?"
The monk fell into step beside him. "Blair is here still."
Inside the ancient monastery, Ingsel led him to the small cell Methos had stayed in so many times over the last thousand years that he almost thought of it as his own.
Methos put down his bag and laid his sword on the thin mattress.
"I forget," Ingsel murmured, as he picked up the sword, admiring the blade, "the hardships of the Game."
"Oh, I rarely fight these days." But Methos took the sword back and carefully stowed it within easy reach.
"You always were a good liar, my friend."
"Lies have their uses."
Ingsel smiled at the words. "I hope you will debate with us."
He didn't want to mislead his friend. "I've come for Blair."
There was a pause. "I knew you would." He said eventually. There was a note of inevitability in his voice, and nothing of surprise. "So did he." Sadness bowed his shoulders. "I shall miss him."
"He may not want to leave."
"What we want is immaterial. He will go." A small smile lifted the corners of his deeply lined mouth. "It's time."
Methos watched as Ingsel turned and walked away, his words finding resonance with Methos. Ingsel had said that of Methos, a long time ago: Time to go, time to move on.
He had been right.
He would be right now too.
***
Methos found Blair beside the lake, sitting cross legged, deep in meditation. He watched his friend from a distance. Blair wore traditional Tibetan clothes and only the pale cream of his skin marked him as different from the hardy people of the villages Methos had passed through. A long plait of hair reached down to his waist while odd stray curls framed his face.
Methos went to his side and sat down to wait. He had sensed Blair long before he'd reached the lake. He knew Blair had felt him too.
It was just a matter of time. And Methos had plenty of that.
Blair's body relaxed out of its meditative posture. "Gong-dhaa." He said softly. I'm sorry.
Surely he still wasn't apologising over Athens? "Amanda's forgiven you."
"Keh-rahng?"
"Oh, I'll need a good hundred years yet."
Methos watched the ripples on the lake. Blair went back to meditation; closing his eyes and tucking his legs back up. Methos watched him, face in profile and in peace. There had been a time when Methos had thought Blair would never find peace again, unless it was in death.
And Methos had no interest in taking heads offered to him in pain.
Naomi had been right to bring him here.
Methos almost smiled at the thought of Blair's teacher. He had visited Naomi before coming here, almost as if he were asking permission. She had made him promise to bring Blair straight to her if he decided to leave, still fretting over her 'sweetie' even after all these years. That night they had stayed up, talking mostly about their lives now, but a little of Blair as well. Reminiscing fondly of the century they'd all spent together in Peru when Blair was just a new Immortal. He had found his first Sentinel in the tribe there and had learnt the arts and traditions of the watchmen at the side of the Sentinel's Shaman.
In the morning, Naomi had served him tongue then taken him to bed.
"I have something for you." Methos said. He held out a black and white photo, grainy from being taken at a distance.
He didn't open his eyes. "Dee kah-ray ray?"
Methos frowned, bothered by the lack of English. He liked English. English was the most widely spoken language on the planet and he had been speaking it in one form or another for millennia. He wasn't about to stop now. "It's a Sentinel."
Blair's eyes opened, legs uncrossed slowly. Then his slender fingers plucked the photograph from Methos' grasp.
"I don't have your gift for recognising them but I saw him find a necklace in snow from over 300 yards."
Blair was fixated on the fuzzy image of the gap-toothed boy. "Kah-bah?"
"In the United States."
Blair stared at the photo. "Keh-rahng gi ming la khong gi yin?"
"James Ellison." Methos took the picture back. "He'll need Guiding."
Blair was silent for a long time and then… "Rey." He agreed.
Methos returned the photo to his pocket. "Or maybe you've forgotten how. What's it been, hm? A hundred? Hundred and fifty years?"
Blue eyes studied him. "Gyah tamba geh-chu sum."
"Not that it matters. He'll probably repress the ability in a few more years."
There was no response and he didn't expect one. The message was delivered. His part was done. If the promise of a Sentinel to Guide couldn't pull Blair from his nightmares of the death camps, then nothing would. And if that was the case then he should be left in peace. To live out eternity as best he saw fit.
"I'm leaving tomorrow." Methos got to his feet. "I'll take you to him if you want…" He began walking.
If it was time, it was time. If it wasn't…
"Methos!"
He stopped, turned.
"Thu-je—che." Thank you.
Oh just this once then. "Kay-nang-gi-ma-ray." You're welcome.
Then he carried on walking.
***
In the morning, Methos waited at the gate with Ingsel. He had not been bluffing at the lakeside, he would leave, and it would just be one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.
And even if Sentinel's didn't have the time, Immortal's did. There would always be another time. Another child.
Methos was about ready to go when finally Blair came. He was still wearing traditional dress but his hair was un-plaited, falling loose around his shoulders in a long halo of curls.
"Ready?" Methos said, as if he'd never doubted Blair's compliance.
Blair shifted a pathetically small pack onto his back and nodded. "Yes." The word was soft but unmistakably English.
Ingsel opened his robes and removed something from its folds. "I believe this is yours." He said holding out Blair's shamshir.
Blair took the blade almost awkwardly. Ingsel had kept it all these years, even though Methos remembered that Blair had wanted nothing more to do with it.
Blair studied his sword for a long while. The blade had grown dull over the years, but it was still a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. Then he hid it in his cloak as if it had always been there.
The monk looked sadly at Blair. He'd nursed his soul for the last 30 years and the weight of his loss pressed heavily on him. "Kah-leh phe." He murmured.
Blair covered his hands with his own. "Thank you."
"Tashi deleh."
Blair pressed his forehead to the monk's briefly then broke the contact.
Methos adjusted his pack and led the way. Blair followed a second later.
Neither of them looked back.
They began down the mountain, hard work in such a thin atmosphere. As they walked, mostly in silence, Methos let his thoughts wander to the boy he'd met in Cascade. He knew they couldn't go straight to the US. For a start, he had a promise to keep to Naomi and then there was Blair, who hadn't left the monastery since he'd been brought there. And before that, he been in a series of concentration camps after being captured in Poland, rounded up with all the other Jews and taken away to die.
It had been a long time since he'd been part of the world, and even longer since he'd been a participant in the Game.
As soon as they got off holy ground, Methos would have to start dusting the rust off of Blair's sword skills. Methos wasn't about to go straight back to Cascade, or anywhere, with a half sane, out of practice Immortal on his hands.
As the sun began to set, Methos called a halt and they set down their mats for the night. Methos built a small fire and they huddled up close to the flames to eat Losar bread. When they finished, Methos took out his whetstone and began to sharpen Blair's sword as his friend watched, plaiting his hair for sleep.
When the blade was bright and deadly, Methos handed it back to Blair.
The younger Immortal took his shamshir and barely had time to parry the blow Methos struck across his blade.
Blair fell back.
Methos waited until he got to his feet.
He didn't get up. "What is this?"
"Your life." Methos told him. "Its what we do."
"I'm not interested in the Game."
"And I'm not interested in watching you commit suicide with next Immortal we meet."
Blair got to his feet, but his shamshir hung loosely from his fingers.
Methos lowered his own sword. "Go back to the monastery, Blair. The child needs a Guide, not a-"
The blow was clumsy, but it still knocked Methos off his feet. The ancient Immortal smiled and countered, catching Blair's shoulder with his blade. Red ran freely down Blair's arm and he lunged again.
"You lived. You've grown stronger." There was satisfaction in Methos' voice. "Time to fight."
Their blades clashed again and again, glinting in the failing light. As they fought, Blair tossed off a few layers of clothing off to aid his movements. Methos smiled as they exchanged blows. Blair wasn't nearly as rusty as he should be, after so many years away from the Game. After a while, he worked a few difficult moves in and Blair caught about half of them.
The other half left the younger Immortal breathless and bleeding.
Then a swing of Methos' sword sliced through the plait of Blair's hair, severing it at the nape of his neck. Curls loosed around his face and Blair stumbled back. They both looked down at the braid lying on the ground.
Blair looked up at his friend. "Hey!"
Methos lowered his sword. "Good."
"Good?"
"Consider us even over Athens." He replied simply. "Now you'll blend in." He admired the shoulder length riot of curls. "Very…Beatles."
"Beatles?"
Methos clapped his shoulder. "You're in for a bit of a surprise, my friend."
~~Fin~~
Glossary
Keh-rang ku-su de-bo yin-peh – How are you?
Gong-dhaa – I'm sorry
Keh-rahng - You
Dee kah-ray ray - What is this?
Kah-bah – Where?
Keh-rahng gi ming la khong gi yin – What is his name?
Rey – Yes
Gyah tamba geh-chu sum – One hundred and eighty-three
Thu-je—che – Thank you.
Kay-nang-gi-ma-ray. - You're welcome.
Kah-leh phe. - Goodbye
Tashi deleh – Good luck.
All phrases borrowed from Wordbridge. Any mistakes are mine.