Inter'acte

San Francisco, Summer 1906

Methos was not certain what had awakened him. Was it the dreams once more? Those strange dreams that had tickled at the edge of his consciousness for over a year now.

At first... it had all seemed so perfect. He'd met up with Phillip and Eleanor in Houston in late 1882 after losing the trail of Kronos and while Phillip had moved south... to travel down the length of the Americas... he and Eleanor had chosen west... Oregon... Washington... California.

He'd lost the chance to contain Kronos somewhere... but at least Kronos had also lost track of him... Thus Methos had decided to let it be... Another day... another year... another time... he'd have to face the ghosts of his past... but not now... Not when Eleanor seemed finally ready to be something other than a friend and occasional companion. Not when she had seemed ready to try living together once more as a married couple and not just as an occasional lover.

"Let's see how it goes," she'd said with that sad little smile he knew so well. "No promises." But they'd had twenty -four years... sixteen more than they'd had together that first time... so long ago. Methos had actually begun to think it would work. But then last year, the dreams and the nightmares had started.

The more often he traced on her the remembered symbols of his childhood...lightly as he had always done since the first time he'd ever made love to her... the more she had done the same to him... and the closer they had come. For centuries they had been able to finish each other's sentences... read in movements each other's intentions... but now... it was almost as if their thoughts and dreams were becoming shared visions.

At first had come the shared understanding that merely tracing the symbols with their fingers was not enough... something more permanent was needed. Something buried deep within each of them yearned for that permanence. But they'd each hesitated... Methos was not certain he wanted to totally commit for all time to anyone... and Eleanor seemed also to have reservations. And at some point... Methos had begun having dreams of a sad-faced woman who wished to prevent his doing anything further.

They'd traveled up and down the Pacific Coast over the past two and a half decades, living for a time in one community and then another. About eight years ago, Methos had bought a home in San Francisco and they had settled into a life on Knob Hill... a reticent and eccentric, childless couple... given to few social occasions... wealthy... mysterious... and generous. The story was circulated that he'd made good in gold and silver mining. Eleanor was known to frequent hospitals and orphanages and give generous donations to charity. He was known as a benevolent philanthropist and a shrewd judge of character. People who truly needed help could approach him... con men... never got past the front door.

But in this last year... Eleanor had begun to change.

At first he'd thought it was her precarious mental balance. The storms of that massive quickening she had taken were still sometimes a part of her. Her green eyes would flash a little greener and her right hand would reach to kill anyone who came too near her... mortal or immortal. It had happened less and less over the decades... but it was still a part of her. He'd taught her every meditation technique he knew... used every philosophy with her he'd ever learned. Each would work for a time... and then something within her would snap... attempting to be free once more... a darkness and a horror she could not control.

"I don't remember anything when I'm like that... when Kae Dhun rages... I do know he wants me to kill someone..." She'd smile at him, a hint of the teasing imp present in that expression. "Not you... he does not know you." Then sadness would overcome her and she'd curl up somewhere wistfully. A few hours later... she was fine. But each time it happened... she drew further and further away.

And Methos did not know why.

At one point... hoping it would help... he'd encouraged her to take another quickening... perhaps that would help end the other's power over her. But it hadn't... it had simply exacerbated the problem... making it far worse. In the aftermath... he'd held her, listening to her raging voice and screams as she sought to be free to continue her rampage. Eventually... that rage had passed, but there was now a fragility about Eleanor that worried Methos.

Now... he reached out in the bed for her... even as he knew she was not there. He saw her curled in the window seat... staring at the night sky.

"I need to go home Methos... to Paris." She'd said it so quietly he almost hadn't heard her.

"Paris!" he thought bitterly... "Why does she always think of Paris as home?" Aloud he answered agreeably, "Whatever you want... I can look into arrangements tomorrow. It's time we were moving on from here anyway."

"Not us... just me."

"Of course us..." His clipped tone betrayed his rising anger.

"If we stay together... we'll have to take that next step... Are you ready for that?"

He sighed deeply as he stared at the ornate ceiling. "You know I'm not... It's not you... it's me... Commitment is just not a word I've ever really considered a part of my vocabulary. For us... we're not talking a few decades... we are talking about centuries... possibly longer. I have severe reservations about either of our abilities to handle something that permanent."

"Then it's time for me to go."

"Come to bed," he finally pleaded... holding up the blanket to motion her back in.

She came... they made love. But come morning... Eleanor packed her bags and left. "Do you even love me? Have you ever loved anyone?" she asked him, tears brimming in her eyes.

Methos said nothing. The only time he'd ever told how he truly felt... death had taken them both. Even now... it seemed better not to say it... better to let her go. Perhaps they'd make it together... another time.

Yet even apart... the dreams had continued. There was the next step that needed to be performed for either of them to find true peace. At the same time... the sad-faced woman of his visions shook her head... not yet... she seemed to warn him... not yet... not yet.

So Methos let her go, and it was nearly a hundred years before he was ready for that next step.