Chapter 16

After Methos left… Eleanor settled before the fire… gazing into the flames with a solemn expression. She seemed oblivious to their surroundings.

"Shouldn't we do as he said… pack?" Derrick asked morosely behind her.

"I am packed… I'm always packed and ready to go," she murmured softly, rubbing her arms against the chill.

"This is all my fault," continued Derrick sadly. "It's all my fault. If I'd taken care of the horses earlier… this wouldn't have happened."

Eleanor continued to rub her hands over her arms, then sat back, gazing at him intently. "This is not your fault. You didn't bring those men here. They would have come and the immortal would have found us no matter what you'd done. If it had been you out there alone… he might have killed you for sport."

Derrick closed his eyes. "Would it have mattered?" he finally asked softly.

Eleanor gazed intently at the boy, wondering if he were finally ready to speak of his inner turmoil. "Of course it matters… It matters to me," she offered softly. "Each life is important… mortal or immortal… and there is never enough time for any of us. I would have you live to finish growing up so that you could make your own way in the world."

Derrick met her gaze. She smiled and continued. "Derrick… whatever the fates have in store for you… I wish you a long life filled with joy. The only thing Adam and I are doing… is making certain you have that chance. I love you." She reached out to cup his chin in her small hand. "You will always be in my heart. Now go pack what you think you'll need if we have to leave here. And promise me… if those men return… you will not become involved in what might happen. Your life is far too precious to me for you to risk it."

The boy nodded sadly, then rose to enter his room. When he reached the door, Derrick looked back at Ellie, staring once more into the fire, her eyes slightly unfocused, her hands rubbing the long sleeves of her simple dress. She was not here… not really.

If Derrick's life had gone as it should… he would not have known her for the last ten years… he would have been safely raised by his adoptive family… the ones whose murder he had witnessed while still very young… If that had not happened, he would still be just a sixteen-year old boy, oblivious of so much more. Derrick knew he would not have recalled some of the memories of those within if he hadn't happened into the immortals and their lives. He shouldn't have remembered anything until he was grown, but other events had interfered… and she had found him… and cared for him… and the memories had stirred. Ellie was right… Derrick still needed time to grow up… but it was sometimes so very hard to both remember… and not remember the events and choices of another life. Events and memories that confused him more and more… as the days passed.

He turned to gather his things… the sword, the crystal and the computer. Was there anything else he would need? Was there anything here that he would miss if they left? What would it be like to see the outside world once more… to travel to distant lands… to meet new people… to hear the roar of the ocean waves breaking on the sandy shore… and the sounds of gulls calling? Derrick closed his eyes and visualized the ocean… glittering in sunlight. He wondered if they were his desires… or those of the others that he was feeling.

Methos pulled up sharply on the reins of his horse as he peered intently into the darkness. He could see the flickering of a campfire in the distance, where none should be. Alighting, he crept closer cautiously… attempting to get near enough to see who it was and overhear them… but not so close as to be sensed by the immortal if he were here. Once certain it was the men he sought, he hunkered down in the brush, straining to hear their conversation.

The three men were drinking… and their conversation worried the immortal.

"I still don't see why we didn't just do as we'd planned. Rob them, rape her, beat the boy and go," one man said.

Another sputtered, "Or rob them, rape the boy, and beat the woman."

Laughter erupted between the two mortals.

The immortal leaned forward on his elbows and sneered. "I say who and I say when."

"Dammit Craig!" one of the men replied, "Why do we always have to listen to you? We were doing just fine before you came along!"

Craig leapt across the fire and pounded the mortal to his knees. "Because I'm the only one with brains in this group." He continued to rain blows on the man until finally dragged off of him by the remaining man.

"Easy Craig… we're drunk… and just mouthing off. You're the boss, mate. We do as you say," the man offered platitudes, evidently hoping to calm the immortal.

Methos narrowed his eyes. Did the mortals know of immortality? Was one a Watcher? How could he tell? The ancient shifted in the brush slightly to work a small cramp from one leg.

Craig shrugged the man off, "Leave me be, Bruce. You two are fools and would have been caught by the authorities for your thieving ways if I hadn't found you a few weeks ago."

The beaten man groaned, sitting up and, with one gloved hand, wiped blood from his face. "Sorry man… or was it even what I said? You were hot to trot down there until that boy showed up with the shotgun. Why'd you warn us off?"

Craig stormed to the edge of the clearing to relieve himself. "I had my reasons."

Methos smiled. They don't know… neither of them. You just met them… You are using them… and you plan to come back… maybe alone. His smile widened. He and Eleanor and Derrick would be gone before that could happen. He rose slightly into a crouch to back away. A branch snapped under his feet. He froze.

Craig's head snapped up as he took three steps toward the sound. He could just barely feel the other immortal as he knew the other could now feel him. Perhaps the woman had followed them. Craig leered into the darkness, licking his lips at the thought of what he could do to her.

"Wait here… I'm going to check that out," he tossed over his shoulder as shrugged slightly within his coat… obviously loosening up for either a battle or a bit of fun.

"It was just the fire crackling," said Bruce. "Stay here… in the light."

"No… I better check this out myself," Craig snapped and headed into the darkness toward the still crouching Methos.

Methos continued to back away… seeking level ground… seeking the best location for the fight he now knew he likely could not avoid. Craig already sensed him… likely thinking it was Eleanor. Whether they fought or not… and Methos felt that the fight was a foregone conclusion, he could not leave this immortal to continue on his way. He needed to face him and end this now. And as for the two mortals? The further away Methos led Craig… the less chance they would see anything. Without Craig's leadership… they'd likely be arrested before much longer. But if they were too close? What if they saw something?

Methos turned and sped swiftly through the darkness… stopping occasionally to be certain Craig was still on his tail. Leading his horse… rather than riding… he drew Craig further and further into the dark frozen landscape. About him… snow had begun to fall in huge flakes.

Finally reaching another clearing… Methos shooed the horse out of his way and crouched down into the center… his broadsword in his hands… hiding both it and his size from the first glance of the immortal. Strangely… for a moment… Methos felt Eleanor's presence, just behind him… over his shoulder. He focused on her a moment and felt her smile… he smiled back… then he broke the link… severing it so that he could concentrate on the task at hand. He did not know this immortal… he had not heard of him during the years he had last been in Watchers. Methos had no idea who he was… how powerful he was… how good he was. Methos, despite sparring with Eleanor and practicing with Derrick knew that he was not at his best. Once more he'd become complacent… living in the dream of a time and place that seemed to exist outside of reality. Well no more! There would have to be changes made once he'd dealt with Craig… All three of them needed to be more aware and prepared for others who might stumble on them… wherever the three of them went.

Methos cleared his mind of all else and concentrated on the man who now stood at the edge of the clearing.

"Anxious to see me again, pet?" Craig's voice rang out with a mocking tone. "Eager to have a real man around… and not some sniveling boy!" He moved forward. Methos could see light gleam on Craig's cavalry saber. Immediately, the ancient adjusted his plan of attack to meet with that particular blade and style of fighting. "Oh my pet… do you really think you can take me? I'll have you and then I'll have the boy!"

"Do you think so?" Methos stood as Craig neared his position. "Do you really think so?"

Craig halted and seemed to peer at Methos' showed form. "Boy? Is that you? Did she turn you and send you out to meet me?"

"I… am no boy!" Methos smirked and raised his broadsword in an opening move… waiting.

For the first time in many years, Craig felt uncertain of his own abilities. He'd been a bully and a thief all his life… and immortality had just been another way to continue his chosen occupation. Despite the bitter cold, he licked his lips… feeling the sting of the icy wind. In a voice that sounded far more confident than he felt… he called out, "Then bring it on… I await your pleasure." He raised his saber to be ready to slash at his opponent.

Eleanor shifted at the fire and listened carefully. Outside she could here the slow steps of a horse. Racing to the window she peered at the shadowy figure dismounting and then entering the barn evidently to unsaddle the animal. She stepped back thoughtfully.

For several hours she'd felt nothing. Not since Methos had sent that one brief acknowledgment of her presence with him and then shut her out. She still felt nothing from him.

"Is he back?" Derrick called from behind her.

"I think so…" Eleanor thoughtfully reached for her coat, pulling it on as she fingered the short knife hidden in the lining of one pocket. "Wait here… don't come out… no matter what." She gave Derrick a meaningful look. The boy nodded reluctantly. Wrapping her woolen scarf about her head and face, Eleanor headed to the barn… a lantern in her hand.

When she opened the barn door, she could just make out Methos brushing down the horse with a measured stroke. He said nothing.

Eleanor hung the lantern on a nail and crossed to his side. "I was worried."

"Were you?" Methos continued to brush the horse methodically. His voice was flat.

Eleanor reached out to touch his arm. "Yes… I was."

"Why?"

Eleanor wrinkled her brow in confusion. Something's wrong! she thought. "Methos?" she asked as she rubbed her gloved hand on his arm. "What is it?"

Methos turned as if only noticing her now for the first time. His eyes traveled up and down her slight form and a lop-sided sneer crossed his face. "Oh… everything and nothing," he said with a bitter laugh.

Eleanor backed away from him. Dropping the brush, Methos reached for her suddenly and crushed her to him, roughly kissing her. Eleanor struggled to be free, but her struggle only made him tighten his grip on her arms until she knew they were bruising. His mouth moved over her face as if he wanted to devour her. When she continued to struggle… he pulled one arm back and let his fist fly into her face.

Eleanor crumpled to the ground, shaking her head at the momentary disorientation. She looked up at his leer as he came at her. One of his hands grabbed at her clothes, ripping them away while the other slapped her face again and again. He pulled her up and then tossed her to a nearby pile of hay and threw himself onto her… grabbing and pulling and biting… focused on one thing.

With one hand still free from his grasp, Eleanor fingered the knife… and then… she made a hard choice and stopped struggling. Instead she attempted to reach him mentally… but was rebuffed again and again from his angry mind… filled only with thoughts of taking her as he had never before dared.

As he finished, the enormity of what he'd just done came on Methos like a ton of bricks. He stared at Eleanor's bruised and swollen face in the pale lantern light. She'd not made a single sound during the entire assault. She met his gaze evenly… as one dead… as one for whom all hope has been extinguished. With a cry of shame… Methos rolled off of her, curling into a ball and shivering in despair, sobs wracked his body.

Eleanor slowly sat up as she wiped her mouth free of blood. Tears stung her eyes and her breathing was ragged. She hurt… and not just physically. Staring at the form of the immortal next to her… she reached blindly for her knife. Turning it over and over in her hands she calmly gazed at his shivering form. His mind was still closed to her. Every instinct told her to kill him and to leave with Derrick before Methos revived. This was not the Methos she knew and loved… this was someone older and far darker. This was someone dangerous. She raised the knife to plunge it into his back.

Then Eleanor paused. She had ridden with him in dreams and knew this side of him. She had known it was there when she'd made her choice and bound her life to his… her fate to his. How could she turn away now? She lowered the knife; then laid it aside. Slowly she scooted up next to his back and pushed at his clothes until her hands could run smoothly over his shuddering back. Eleanor lay next to him… letting her fingers travel over the patterns until one hand reached his neck to ignite the unity bond. She held him close and shifted… ready and open for whatever memory they would share.