Flashback---------------------------------------------------
412 C.E., Paris
"No...no," Methos shook his head in denial. "You must be wrong." He turned and faced the other Immortal, a black haired Frenchman.
"I saw it with my own eyes…The Goth General beheaded him with one single blow while he was laughing at him… He didn't give him the chance to explain, instead, he called him a stupid fool…," the other whispered with a shaking voice while tears glittered in his eyes. "Emrys didn't have the slightest chance… I saw the quickening, it was bigger than any quickening I have ever seen before. There is no doubt that he is dead. "
"No."
"He is dead, Methos, we have to accept that."
Turning again, Methos stared out of the window (note: or what was called a window at this time). Outside, he could see some children playing on the dirty street. Their faces were full of mud and their clothes looked more like rags than clothes.
Methos closed his eyes – Paris would fall soon. After 6 weeks of being besieged by General Darius's army, they were running out of food and fresh drinking water. It was only a matter of time till the first epidemic would spread. No, there was no future for the city and it's people. His friend had known that, too, and had wanted to talk to the Goth General.
Methos had tried to reason with his friend, had told him that it was senseless to speak with the General, that he would only endanger his live, but his friend wouldn't listen. He believed that everybody had a good core and that he only had to reach this core in Darius to make him spare the city. Obviously, he had been wrong, and he had paid his failure with his life - murdered by the Gothic barbarian.
Methos had heard of the man before, the Goth had a very bad reputation that was spreading very quickly. It was said that he destroyed everything around him, killing, raping and plundering everybody and everything that crossed his path. Methos had known that they should have left Paris immediately as the rumours of Darius's near army were whispered with fearful voices in the city. But Emrys had wanted to stay, not wanting to leave the people alone with their fate. And now he was dead.
Methos moaned as he felt burning anger rise in him. He could feel Death come to the surface but refused to surrender. He had sworn never to become this man again. Focusing his thoughts back on his murdered friend again, he remembered how they had met.
It had not been long after he had left the horsemen, when he heard rumours of a very old Immortal, - allegedly the oldest of all Immortals. Knowing that such a strong quickening would rise his chances in the game multiple times, Methos had decided to pay the Immortal a visit.
He had followed the traces and rumours, and finally found himself eye to eye with the other man. Immediately overwhelmed by the other man's presence, he no longer wanted his head but what was inside. The other Immortal had been full of wisdom and goodness, and had allowed Methos to stay and become his student. Showing him the beauty of the world again, the other finally had managed to open Methos's heart to love again. He had guided Methos out of the darkness of 1000 years of killing with the horseman, back into the world of living. It had not been easy and a long way, but they had both succeeded. And now this man, his friend and teacher was dead by the hands of the Goth and would never return.
Clenching his right fist until blood dropped onto the floor, Methos made a decision. He would not let the barbarian keep his friend's quickening, his essence…No, he would go and take back what rightfully belonged to him.
When it was night, he used one of the few concealed tunnels that lead out of Paris, and crept into the General's camp. He was surprised how easy it was to slip between the enemy tents. Nobody paid him much attention; instead, the enemy seemed frozen. Very irritated by this unusual behaviour but not really caring in his hate, Methos hurried to the General's tent.
Knowing that he couldn't take the General's head right in front of all the mortals, Methos had brought a sack with him. He planned to kill the General only temporary and then put him into the sack. After that, he planned to take one of the horses that were standing nearby, and ride out of the camp hopefully without being seen.
The moment he sensed the other's presence, he hurried to the tent and immediately entered when he saw no Guards standing there. Several candles lit the tent, his eyes needed a second to adjust to the light. First, he thought that the tent was empty but then his eyes saw a small figure kneeling on the ground. The figure had his head down and held his hands before his eyes. Methos was not sure, but thought he heard quiet sobs.
Methos stared for some heartbeats at the figure. At first, he thought the man to be a beaten servant, but when he got a better look, he realized that this miserable creature in front of him was the General himself. For a moment, he was perplexed. Then, the face of his murdered friend appeared in his mind and burning anger rose in him. He drew his sword with a very determined expression on his face. With two quick steps he stood in front of the general, rose his sword…
…and suddenly found himself looking into familiar eyes – the eyes of his friend. He blinked in confusion but the impression in the other man's eyes didn't change. Methos was sure that these eyes belonged to Emrys.
"What?" he whispered totally shocked while his fingers lost the strength to hold the sword. He heard the noise as it hit the floor but his mind was totally blank.
"Who are you?" Methos finally managed to whisper as he backed away. The other man looked at him and Methos could now see tears glitter in the other man's sorrowful eyes.
"I am so sorry," he then heard a gentle voice that was full of pain and regret. "Please forgive me…"
For a moment, there was only silence in the tent. Then, the other man bent forward, picked up the sword, Methos had dropped, and lifted it to his own bare throat while he let the hilt point in Methos direction.
Looking up into Methos face again, he then whispered with a pleading voice, "Do it…I murdered your friend…I deserve this…Kill me…finish, what you came to do."
Each stared into the other's eyes for a time that felt like eternity to Methos. He cried for Death to rise and avenge his friend but there was no hate left in him – only emptiness. He had come to kill a monster but had found…he couldn't say. Finally making his decision, he backed away until he reached the tent's exit, not breaking their eye contact. Then he turned and ran. He didn't stop until he reached the borders of France.
End of flashback--------------------------------------------------
