Chapter 22

Scotland

Methos entered the barn where he saw Derrick sitting on a hay bale, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees… his hands clasped in front of him. The young man looked up at him… almost fearfully.

The immortal took a deep breath and considered what to say… and how to say it. He needed answers… and he was tired of equivocation and misdirection.

Derrick lifted one hand rubbed it over his mouth slowly.

Methos shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and cleared his throat. "Tell me exactly what you did?"

"Is she all right?" Derrick looked at him fearfully.

"She is well… I ask again… tell me exactly what you did." Methos continued levelly… making certain to keep his expression bland, betraying nothing. Inside his heart was pounding.

Derrick shook his head. "I am not certain. I wished to ease her suffering. I kept feeling a great sense of despair that she should not suffer… not this time. When I glanced at you… I wanted to ease your pain as well."

Methos crouched before the boy. He looked at the straw covered dirt floor and then met Derrick's confused gaze. "My thoughts were much the same… as were hers. She did not wish us to suffer… as we watched and waited for her to heal."

"But it should not have happened. Not this time… not like…" Derrick's voice trailed off.

"Not like what?" Methos waited.

Derrick shook his head. "I am not certain. I just had a flash of some memory when it happened and then nothing. I have felt nothing else for the past hour… no memories, no feelings, no visions… as if it is all gone."

Methos smiled. "It is not all gone."

Derrick stared at him, his brows knotted in confusion. "I do not understand."

"We are speaking a dialect of Parsii that died out almost two thousand years ago. Darius spoke it… so something remains."

Derrick leaned back… as if suddenly considering what had just happened. In English he continued, "But I really don't know anything!"

"You know more than you think you do. Now concentrate on that last time… I have no memory of it at all… nor, I am certain, does Eleanor. Describe it to me… describe everything… no matter how insignificant you think it is. Now is not the time to hold anything back Derrick. I have to know what happened."

Derrick nodded, biting his lip and breathing raggedly. He thought of all the visions that had flashed through his mind in the past few years… and then concentrated on one that had involved them all. One that had never made sense… but one that had flashed through his mind just before the odd quickening had encompassed them all when he'd wanted to ease Ellie's suffering. He met Methos' patient glance and began to speak.

Eleanor began to wonder what was keeping Methos so long. Lazily, almost regretfully… she rose from the bed, wrapping one of the sheets about her small form. She held the curtains aside on the window but could see nothing. He was not in the courtyard… but he wasn't far… perhaps the barn.

Grinning, she glanced around the room for something to pull on. Her dress was in charred tatters… but she really didn't need to get dressed… not really. She smiled in the memory of his touch and reached out to him mentally…. a bit surprised when he did not respond. Methos had erected the mental wall that they'd each developed so they had a little privacy. He seldom used it except when he wanted to surprise her about something.

"Keep your surprise," she said lightly.

The sound of the barn door slamming alerted her to his return. Glancing once more through the window… she noted only Methos was on his way. She dropped the sheet where she stood and climbed once more on the bed attempting to strike a bored yet receptive pose. Not satisfied, she rose up slightly and fluffed a pillow before reclining once more.

She heard him in the outer room. Eleanor smiled and ran one hand through her hair. The door opened.

"What do you mean you're leaving? Talk to me!" Eleanor shoved Methos' arm trying to get him to pay attention to her… not the small bag he was packing. He'd shut her out completely… and his face was stern and set. She knew that look… she'd known it for centuries… It was the one he used when he had his mind made up about something and was intent on pursuing a course of action that he did not want her to be a part of. Normally she would have backed down… but not this time… not now. "Where are you going?" she cried trying to push him away from the bag.

Methos grasped her arms and looked at her sadly. He ran one hand along the side of her face… caressing it. Closing his eyes as if struggling with something he held his breath. Then he let it out and said softly. "I'm not leaving for good… but I have to… check on something. I'll be on the mainland. This shouldn't take long… I'll be back… I promise."

Eleanor could hear the pleading in his voice for her to stand aside and let him finish… let him leave. "Then I'm going with you," she finally said with determination.

"No." He dropped his hands and turned back to his bag, thrusting the couple of shirts, sweaters and jeans in on top of the socks. He picked up the shaving kit and tossed it in on top as he closed the bag.

"Of course I'm going." Eleanor crossed to the wardrobe and pulled several outfits free of their hangers.

"You cannot leave Derrick here alone."

"He's eighteen… he'll be fine." She threw the outfits on the bed and pulled a small bag out from underneath.

"He needs you here. If someone came by without one of us here… and something happened… you'd never forgive yourself."

"Then he comes with us."

"Eleanor! Stop! Listen to me for once!"

Eleanor paused to stare at his face… curious as to what was happening.

"This is something I have to do. It may be nothing… but I need to check with MacLeod on something. I won't be gone long. A few days… a week at the most. Wait for me here… watch over Derrick… He's feeling very confused right now. I'll contact you if I need you and Derrick to join me for some reason."

"If it's nothing… why are you shutting me out?" Eleanor bit her lip, she hadn't meant to sound accusatory.

Methos sighed. "I have a lot on my mind. I need to concentrate. You, my love," he smiled and caressed her face once more, "are more of a distraction than you realize. I'll know you are there… I just won't respond."

"And if you have to face someone… Methos you promised…"

"Then you will be with me. Together we will face whatever happens, I promised you that… I'll keep my word. But, let's hope that doesn't happen." He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms about her. Then he bent to kiss the top of her head, smelling the sweet honeyed scent of her and wishing he could stay… but this matter had to be looked into. "I may swing by Geneva and retrieve Darius' letters to us," he murmured. "We should have picked them up long before now. I didn't think they were important… now… they may have all the answers we'll ever need."

"Why? What could be in them?"

Methos drew in a deep breath. Finally he turned her face up and kissed her deeply. As one of Eleanor's hands raised to stroke his neck… he grasped it so that she couldn't. "I have to go," Methos said raggedly kissing her palm. Reluctantly he released her and grabbed his bag to head out into the courtyard where Derrick stood with a saddled horse.

Behind him he heard her in the doorway call, "Come back to me."

Methos' step faltered. He turned to stare at her sheet wrapped form in the doorway and wished he didn't have to go… wished he didn't have to keep his reasons from her… but he had to discover the truth of what Derrick had told him for himself. Then and only then, would he tell Eleanor. Reaching the horse, he threw his soft-sided bag over the saddle-horn. "I'll leave the horse at MacDuffy's Stable when I rent a car. Stay with her Derrick. Don't tell her anything of what you told me. Promise me."

Derrick nodded as Methos swung up on the horse, settling into the saddle as the horse paced back and forth a few steps. "Take care of her until I get back." With that, Methos kicked his horse in the sides and galloped off into the night.

From the doorway Eleanor watched him go. She tried to concentrate and reach him… she could feel him… but he was behind the wall… all she could sense was his determination. Derrick walked up to stand beside her.

"He'll be back Ellie… he promised." He reached out to reassure her.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped at him, pulling her arm away. "I don't want you near me." Eleanor flung one draping corner of the sheet over her shoulder and marched into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her and leaning on it. Tears fell and she felt more alone than she had in years. The room was empty. The house was empty. Her mind was empty… without him. Eleanor's gaze found Methos' discarded shirt. He'd worn it yesterday and it was still lying in a heap in the corner where he'd tossed it. Swiftly she crossed to it, dropping the sheet as she went. Picking the shirt up she sniffed it… smelling him as if he were still here. Slowly she pulled it on and buttoned it… letting the smell of him surround her once more. It had been years since she'd done this… Eleanor crouched on the floor and lowered her head into her crossed arms… trying to sense him here… trying to recall his hands on her body… his kiss on her lips… the feel of him on her and in her. Softly she began to weep.

On the far side of the door… Derrick stood quietly. Slowly he reached out one hand and softly touched the wooden door. Then he dropped his hand with a sigh and retreated to his own room.