Chapter 15

Scotland, December 2009

Eleanor closed the corral gate and stuffed her gloved hands deep into the pockets of her heavy mackinaw. Her breath appeared in the freezing air before her in small clouds of mist. She shivered. "Have you ever known it to be so cold?"

As he finished breaking the layer of ice and adding fresh water to the trough for the horses, Methos climbed up on to the fence and swung his legs over to land solidly on the frozen earth beside her. "Not recently," he said swinging his long arms about as he hit them with his palms and stamped his feet.

The winter had come on quickly and harshly in the past week. There was even a threat of snow in the cold air. From here, Methos could see the smoke rising from the farmhouse. Derrick was in there reading. The boy had seemed depressed in recent weeks, but each time Methos had tried to figure out what was going on with the sixteen-year-old, the boy had simply shrugged and re-buffed the advance.

Things had been going pretty well between them for the past year. About once a week the two of them had taken off to town and ended up in some secluded glade where the immortal had begun teaching Derrick some martial arts moves. The boy was a quick study. He'd picked up several of the more complex moves almost as if he'd once used them.

Methos had said nothing, biding his time… trying to openly answer the boy's questions about his life and Eleanor's. The immortal kept waiting for the boy to ask the questions Methos knew had to be on Derrick's mind… about his own status, about the sword, about the crystal, about that bloody computer game… but the boy never did. It was as if he was waiting for something… and Methos had no idea what that something was.

So the waiting game continued.

If Eleanor had noticed anything different about Derrick in the past few months, she had yet to say anything directly to Methos. Instead, she seemed to be a calm presence between them whenever the growing boy's recent antagonism and Methos' own suspicions and anger had threatened to spill over into their lives here. When Derrick and Methos… Adam… were alone… they were fine. Adam, as if he were the boy's big brother, taught the youngster, joked with him, shared moments of his past… whatever he thought he might need to do in an attempt to learn what Derrick might or might not know.

Methos was increasingly certain that Derrick was "Reborn" as the Ancient had once termed it… but if he was… would those memories the boy sometimes seemed to have, vanish once he became immortal? And if Derrick did suspect his latent immortality… would it even be triggered when he died? Methos feared what would happen to the boy once his time arrived. He also feared how Eleanor would take it if the boy were lost… or if those memories would even be unlocked if he became immortal too soon, or in the shock of his violent death.

Derrick's eyes followed his sister, as he still seemed to regard her, whenever she was present. He gazed sadly at her behind her back… so much so that Methos had begun to fear what might happen once the boy was grown. Eleanor, if he mentioned this to her, would laugh as if Methos could ever believe she would change her mind. "He's a little boy," she'd say, holding Methos tightly in her embrace within their bed. "Whatever happens… changes nothing."

So Methos pushed. Hoping by spending time alone with Derrick, he could learn exactly what it was the boy seemed to almost remember… learn and make a note of it, just in case Derrick forgot everything in years to come.

Today, had been one of those days that parents of teenagers must truly despair. Methos had reminded the boy that the horses needed care… especially on such a cold and snowy day. Derrick had pointedly stuck his nose in a book and mumbled something about getting around to it. That had been hours ago. When Methos had reminded Derirck once more… Eleanor had suddenly decided she needed some fresh air… and out here she'd come… ready to take care of the horses. Grumbling and casting harsh words at the boy… who had merely slunk lower in the couch… his lanky legs propped over the sofa arm… his nose buried in the book… Methos had grabbed his own coat and followed Eleanor out. Anything to avoid an open argument!

Eleanor suddenly put her gloved hands over his bare ears with a teasing grin. "Forgot your hat… You were in such a hurry to join me out here… you forgot your hat! Let's hope those ears of yours don't fall off."

He reached out to pull her close to give her a kiss. He pulled her woolen scarf from over her mouth with his teeth and planted his cold lips on her warm ones. She giggled. "It's too cold out here for this.

Methos grinned as he unbuttoned his coat and pulled her close… wrapping his coat around them both. "Let me keep you warm," he breathed into her ear… wishing it weren't quite so cold. Wishing that they could just slip into the barn for a few hours and forget everything else.

The sounds of several engines carried over the frosty air.

Methos looked up. "Who could be out on such a day?" he groused… hating the possible interruption. On the top of the nearby hill… three men on those three-wheeled off-road vehicles that were so popular, came into view. "Bother… looks like company," he said letting Eleanor pull back so that he could re-button his coat. She quickly rearranged her woolen scarf over her head and about her face. Methos turned up his collar… wishing he'd thought about a hat. Then he felt it.

One of the three men riding down the slope was an immortal.

"Go inside," Eleanor said, suddenly serious.

"I'm not leaving you out here," Methos insisted.

"If we feel him… then he feels at least one of us. Go inside."

Methos shook his head.

"Edward… listen to me… It may be nothing. He may simply nod and pass on by… especially as there are two mortals with him."

"And they might take advantage of you."

"Get in the house now." Eleanor's voice rose in pitch and he could see the determination in her eyes. "If one of those mortals is his Watcher… who will he recognize? Certainly not me. Besides… do you have your sword with you?"

Methos lowered his head. In his haste to follow her out… he hadn't considered needing it.

"I have my knife. Trust me. I do know how to defend myself. And you can always come running if you need to. Go in the house."

Methos backed away and headed into the house… reluctant to leave her… but aware she was likely right. She could defend herself. Long ago she'd learned to deal with men who pawed at her or hoped for more. But if there was a Watcher with this immortal… he might recognize Methos… and then they'd have to move on. Methos wasn't ready to move on. Not yet.

He slammed the door as he entered the farmhouse and then turned to gaze nervously out the window as the three off-roaders came to a stop near Eleanor. From this distance he couldn't even feel her. Surely he would be unfelt in here… but… he didn't feel good about this.

Derrick came to stand beside him. "What's up Adam? Is there something wrong?" The boy's blue eyes stared at him levelly.

Methos pulled back from the window and met Derrick's gaze. He smiled.

As the three men surrounded her, Eleanor shrugged in a warm-up and fingered her knife through the opening she'd put in the jacket so she could appear to merely have her hands in her pockets. She'd practiced this move… pulling the knife and twirling to use it effectively… but maybe it wouldn't be necessary.

The three men gunned their engines menacingly… and then shut them off. Eleanor stared at the immortal evenly.

Beneath his flapped hat and above his scarf… she could tell very little about him… other than that he was apprising her carefully. "Afternoon, ma'am," he finally said in American-accented English.

Eleanor nodded. "Tis quite cold to be out on such a day… especially on those things." She gave it her best Scots accent.

The three men laughed. The immortal continued, "Yes… well it got cold on us rather quickly… and we appear to be lost. Saw your smoke and thought we'd come this way to get some directions."

One of the other men laughed raucously. The immortal shot him a sharp glance. The man seemed cowed by whatever that glance from his companion meant.

Eleanor continued her warm-up. She kept her face pleasant and made certain none of her fears or suspicions showed in her eyes. "Where are you gentlemen headed?"

The strange immortal was just opening his mouth to tell her when she felt someone come to stand beside her. Glancing over, Eleanor saw Derrick wearing Methos' coat, his head covered with a flapped hat and a shotgun in his hands. Slowly he cocked it… but kept it easy… ready to be used if necessary.

The strange immortal slapped his hands together as his eyes twinkled in sudden understanding. He winked at her. "Oh… I see you are not alone."

"Of course not," Eleanor said. "Now if you'll tell me where you're bound for… I'll be glad to tell you how to go." She met his eyes… betraying none of the anger she now felt.

Information exchanged, the immortal saluted mockingly as if to say he'd be back, and the three men roared up the hillside and away into the frozen landscape.

Eleanor turned, grabbing the shotgun from Derrick's hands. "What in the world did you think you were doing? You could have been killed!"

The boy mumbled something about Methos not wanting her to be alone even as Eleanor stomped back to the house. She was nearly there when she realized Derrick had said Methos. She paused. "What did you say?"

Derrick shrugged within Methos' coat. "Adam didn't want you out here alone. Since they'd likely seen him… he figured it would look like he just came in for the shotgun. He said one was an immortal and that he didn't want to precipitate a challenge."

Eleanor eyed him calmly, then turned swiftly to enter the house. She tossed the shotgun to Methos and glared at him.

"I was improvising," he said softly. "It looked like you might need some back-up."

"Can you not trust me!" she let her voice rise in volume. "I have lived over eleven hundred years and I know how to handle the likes of them. What if Derrick had been killed!" Eleanor pointed in the direction the men had gone.

"They may be back." Derrick offered quietly. "There was something in the way that one man looked at us that worried me."

Methos nodded. He set the shotgun down and grabbed his broadsword. "I'll follow at a distance to be certain they don't circle back."

"I can do it," offered Derrick.

"No!" Methos began donning his outerwear as he prepared to follow. "Eleanor's right… we can't risk anything happening to you. This is best handled by one of us." He slipped his broadsword into his coat, pulled on the hat and adjusted the gloves.

"I'm coming too!" Eleanor said. "Give me a few minutes to change from this dress into more suitable attire. Derrick… go saddle the horses."

Derrick grabbed his own coat but was stopped by Methos. The immortal turned his gaze upon Eleanor. "And if they get past me and circle back… Would you leave Derrick here unprotected?" His words hit their mark as Eleanor's eyes closed. "You know he'll kill him."

Eleanor nodded as she removed her mackinaw and flung it into a corner. Methos could tell there was a greenish blaze in her eyes. He reached for her and pulled her close.

"I'll be careful. I just need to be certain they are truly gone. As it is… we'll likely have to leave here. Start packing what we'll need… just in case." He kissed her, taking the time to kiss the tears brimming in her eyes.

"Come back to me," she whispered. He could feel the bond flare awake as his fingers touched the faint scars on her neck where they had completed the unity bond years ago. She would be with him. She would know what he knew… She would know if he failed. Methos held her close for a long moment, breathing in the honeyed scent of her, then released her as he turned to leave. Squeezing Derrick's arm with a smile as he passed him, Methos tried to let him know how he felt… how much he wanted Derrick to be safe. And then he was gone.