TIMELESS – CHATPER SIX

Down for the Count

Lofty timbers, the walls around are bare, echoing to our laughter as though the dead were there...Quaff a cup to the dead already, hooray for the next to die! -- From 1931 Dracula, spoken by Lucy Weston.

THE FOLLOWING DAY

Mac was leaning against his car when he sensed Methos. He looked down the street and saw him approaching. Methos had his arm around Darcy's shoulders. Mac admired the way Methos loved her. It was full and complete. Mac often wished that for himself. The couple where talking easily as they made their way across to the boat.

"Morning," Darcy happily, "It's good of you to join in today." She looked around, "Where's Amanda?"

"Business meeting," Mac said and Darcy nodded with a smile. "Shall we?"

The drive to the estate of Count de Chardonnay was lively. Mac was anxious to relay some of his funnier stories. Making the time pass easily and resulting in good moods for all of them.

Darcy stared up at the massive house; she'd seen mansions before, but this one vibrated with something rich and old. Methos and Mac stood on either side; looking up at the house with her.

"How many rooms do you suppose there are?" Darcy asked.

"At least ten," Methos muttered, "Perhaps more."

Darcy looked down, her gaze settling on the doors, "Well, let's face the firing line."

They approached the house and both Immortals stopped. The front door opened a moment later; a very handsome brunette man stood before them. He wore a red vest with a charcoal gray suit and crisp white shirt. He looked stately in a modern way.

"Methos!"

"It's Adam," Methos told him quickly, "This is my wife, Darcy Pierson."

Phillipe looked at Darcy for a long moment before smiling, "But of course." He held out a hand, "You are very welcome, Mrs. Pierson." He had a distinct British accent.

Darcy smiled warmly at him, "You must the Count."

"Please call me Phil, everyone else does."

"I understand you are going to marry my sister, Becky."

Phil nodded, "Beauty is a family trait," He glanced at Methos, "If I may say so?"

Methos grinned at him, "Still being the gentleman, are we Phil?"

"Always, old boy."

Darcy followed the trio of Immortals down a vast hallway. It was painted a muted yellow and covered in priceless art work, most of it was paintings. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for rectangles of sunlight on the black and white marble floor.

Phil paused at a set of double wooden doors and opened them with a flourish. The room was a dinning area. The table was long enough to comfortably seat twenty; but only held four individuals, Roger stood as Darcy entered.

He hugged and nodded to Adam and Mac. Roger retook his seat as Phil waved the newcomers to chairs. Servants appeared almost magically and offered wonderful options for breakfast.

Darcy helped herself and ate it happily.

"What are the plans for today than?" Phil asked as he nursed coffee and nothing else.

Lauren and Becky both spoke at once, "The fashion show is today.'

"Ah yes!" Phil exclaimed, "The showcase of heavenly women in scant clothes; I have been looking forward to this for weeks. Becky and Lauren have been dropping hints about what to expect."

"No doubt it will be great." Mac added and Phil nodded.

The twins stood up, Becky spoke as Lauren kissed Phil, "We have to go, but we'll see you at two."

They left the house and Phil was still beaming. "Such wonderful girls."

Darcy watched Phil and couldn't help but feel he was a bit too cheery.

Janice stood, "I need to find an outfit for this afternoon." She looked at Darcy, "Darcy, I could use your help."

Darcy frowned to herself but stood up slowly, "But..."

"Darcy," Her mother said her name as a warning.

Placing her hands on Metho's shoulders; Darcy kissed him deeply, Janice didn't wait to see if she followed.

Phil reclined in an overstuffed chintz chair. "Tell me Methos," He began as he lit a cigar, "How do you like being married?"

"Very agreeable."

Phil laughed, "I was married back in 1859, a wonderful girl, name of Martha. She died of a fever shortly after." Phil contemplated his cigar before speaking again, "That's the trouble of marrying mortals; they always die."

Methos watched his friend carefully, "Darcy and I have spoken about it."

Phil raised gray eyes to him, "Have you?" His voice was dark, "Well that's good."

"What about you and Lauren?" Mac asked as he sat beside Methos on the couch. "Have you spoken to her?"

"Good heaven's no!" Phil took a moment to savor his cigar, "She's a sweet girl; very insecure, but lovely." He made a face, "But her mother!" He looked to Methos, "Tell me, what do you think of her?"

Methos shook his head, "I keep my opinions to my self, Phil."

"That's new, when did you start doing that?"

"After I met you," Methos countered, making Phil laugh again. "You seem happy, Phil."

"Yes, I think I am."

"Is Lauren the cause?" Mac asked gently.

"Perhaps, I don't' know to be honest."

Mac asked, "Do you love her?"

Phil exhaled a stream of smoke, "I sure hope so."

"What do you mean, 'hope so'?"

"Come on MacLeod, at our ages we can't be expected to know love." Phil stood and crossed to the waiting bar. "Want a drink?"

"Yes." Methos said, Mac shook his head.

Mac was too focused, "Methos found love. Why not you too?"

Phil finished pouring and handed Methos his drink before sitting down again. "Methos is a softy at heart. It's just hard to find sometimes."

Methos raised his glass in mock salute. Phil mirrored him.

Mac shook his head, "I don't understand your reasoning."

"Well, Macky boy, it really doesn't concern you." Phil said in an icy tone.

The conversation shifted to the upcoming fashion show.

Boutique

Darcy stared at the fine French designs. They glistened and shone in the midday sun. The store was quiet the way exclusive stores are. As if waiting for the next big spender.

Janice was gloriously looking over dresses and skirts. Her fingers danced across the silk and cashmere selections. There was a saleswoman watching Janice with hungry eyes. Like she was about to pounce.

Darcy saw the woman tense and spring the instant Janice took something off the rack. Darcy turned away the sudden death as the woman spoke to her mother.

Focusing her gaze on the street outside; Darcy marveled in the pattern of sunlight. The way it fell and angled according to trees, buildings and even people. Darcy watched the flow of shoppers and felt distant from them. As though a part of her was gone and that which was left was fading.

"Darcy!"

She jumped and glanced over at her mother. Releasing a sigh, Darcy stepped up to her mother's side. "Yes?"

"Pick something," Janice waved to the selection, "Think of it as a wedding present."

Darcy crossed her arms, "Why? So you can hold it over me for the rest of my life?"

Janice was busy looking over more clothes, she spoke absently. "Your marriage won't last as long as you will. Trust me honey, it was a mistake to marry him. All Adam wants is your inheritance."

Darcy glared at the Chanel suit her mother wore, "He didn't even know about it until you mentioned it."

Janice shrugged, "A small matter. All he had to do is look up your father on the internet."

Darcy found her self gritting her teeth. "Stop it mother."

Janice selected a dress, "Stop what darling?"

Darcy grabbed the garment and her mother turned quickly, "Stop trying to control me. There is nothing left that you can hang over my head. This is my life! Adam is my husband."

Janice stared at her daughter with cool blue eyes, "Are you so sure?"

Darcy frowned, "Meaning what?"

"He looks to have a wandering eye. I don't trust him. You can't trust people of his class. You understand what I mean." Janice put on an innocent face. "I know you needed to feel grown up, so you married him. But come on dearest, he's a commoner. He's poor and he won't give you what you need."

Darcy almost grinned at her, "Of course. He's not blue-blood enough for you. He may not be a damn Count of wine, but Adam loves me." Darcy threw the dress at her mother. "If you don't like what you see, then fucking leave!"

Darcy left the store more angry then she'd been in years. Anger made her run as she fled her mother's words. Darcy kept running until she was forced to stop because of pain. She collapsed on bench and sobbed.

"Darcy?"

She jumped and looked up, "Amanda?"

The Immortal removed her sunglasses, "You look awful."

"I feel sick, like I am going to fall apart."

Amanda grinned, "I know what you need. Come on."

Amanda grabbed Darcy and hauled her up. The drive in Amanda's car was short and fast; the sleek machine was made to fly.

"Where are we?"

"A women only club." Amanda grinned as she got out. Darcy followed her into the fine building.

There was a middle aged woman at the desk; she grinned at Amanda, "Ms. LeFevre."

"Good afternoon Lucy, how are things?" Amanda asked as she signed in.

"Very quiet."

Amanda led Darcy up a set of carpeted stairs. "Go on in," She pointed to a closed set of dark wood doors, "I'll be there in a moment."

Darcy gazed at the long room. It was about the size of a football field; the right hand side was mostly mirrors, the left held paintings of former members. Darcy took one look at the paintings and recognized the club. It was a sword club; the advanced version of a fencing club. Here they used real swords and practiced different styles.

"Okay!" Amanda exclaimed as she walked in, she had a single handed sword in one hand. "I'm sure you've guessed what this is."

"I have; you honestly think I can stand up to you?"

Amanda grinned at her, "We're not playing for heads,"

Darcy laughed as Amanda indicated the sword selection she could choose from. She didn't coach on what to look for. Darcy had figured out this was a test. One she was determined to pass.

Darcy stared at the neatly stowed collection; there were broad swords, long swords, and scimitars. There were creations from the Middle Ages and earlier. Darcy spotted the Gladius and grinned. She chose it. The pommel was topped by a stamped wooden disc; she could feel the tension of the wood under the leather grip.

The moment she touched the sword; she remembered how to use it. It was like a sleeping giant had woken.

Amanda watched as Darcy held the Roman sword. She could see the change that settled over the mortal. Her eyes grew dark as knowledge filled her. Amanda wondered absently how good Darcy was going to be.

"Ready?" Amanda asked after a few minutes.

"Yes."

Darcy shrugged off her coat and pushed up the sleeves of her shirt. Amanda removed her jacket and nodded to a taped section of the floor.

"Stay within the boarder." Amanda said as they stepped in.

Darcy had a moment of panic as Amanda saluted her. But the moment passed as complete knowledge took over.

ROME: 61 B.C.

Daria slid through the shadows of the grounds; the guards had no indication she was here. The Captains how was near by, she could see the glow of it from here. Keeping her back to the wall, Daria focused her attention on the wide open courtyard. She'd have to cross open space before reaching the Captain. She tightened her grip on her father's sword.

Daria studied the guards for several minutes; once comfortable that they wouldn't spot her. Daria ran across the twenty yard gap. She pressed herself against the columns of the house. From here she could see the hallways leading into the house. Servants wandered easily in the shadows.

Braziers flickered warmly against the shadows. Nothing moved in the shadows. She was safe so far.

Daria ran lightly along the corridors; she knew where his room was. No one spotted her or cried alarm. The house was quiet save for the sounds of night.

The double doors were gilded with gold and silver; works of ivory and wood worked to create the doors. The handle was gold. Daria placed her hand on it and slid between the doors.

There was no guard on the door which was odd; but not enough to stop her. The Captain's room was vast, as was the custom. He had filled it with reminders of his past conquests: Great tapestries, suits of armor, a collection of swords. Anything and everything that could be glorious.

Daria passed the tables and the chairs. The whole room was a distraction to her real goal. She pushed open the bedroom doors and paused. The Captain's shadows played against the walls of cotton around his bed.

He was in the midst of making love; his breathing was fast and heavy.

Daria continued on and quietly pulled back the curtains. She drew her arm back and exhaled softly. His body tensed as he reached orgasm, his head thrown back. Daria lunged upward; the sword went through his spine. He fell dead on top of his lover. Daria stared at her sister's face as the Captain's blood spilled outward.

Lucilla started to scream; wild ragged sounds of terror.

Daria spun around as guards flooded from another room. She tore her sword free and battled them. Lucilla's screams filled the background as Daria fought.

PRESENT DAY PARIS

Darcy felt the blade slide and twisted herself backward. Amanda's blade glanced off her shoulder. The blade was razor sharp and slit the skin in a shallow cut. Darcy didn't pause at the pain; she dropped to one knee and swung sideways.

Amanda gasped as her skin opened; she stared into cold green eyes, Darcy was elsewhere.

"I concede." Amanda stepped back. Darcy remained crouching for several minutes. Her eyes cleared and she blinked. "Well done."

Darcy looked around for a moment and drew in a deep breath. "Likewise."

Amanda eyed the small cuts on Darcy's body. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Darcy accepted a ride with Amanda back to the house. Amanda walked right in and knew her way around.

"Phil is a nice guy," Amanda admitted, "A little strange, but nice."

"He struck me as overly cheery this morning." Darcy informed her as they climbed the stairs to the second floor.

"He can be sometimes; usually when he's planning something." Amanda looked at the collection of doors, "This one."

She pushed open the last door on the left and grinned, "This is where you and...Adam, will be staying.

"Thanks," Darcy sank to the bed, staring at the large widows and brocade curtains. Everything was so.... "So not me." Darcy muttered.

As she was changing into her little black dress, someone knocked before entering. She turned and smiled at her husband. He kissed her before looking her over.

"You're hurt." He remarked darkly.

"Not really. Amanda helped me burn off some energy. We sparred with real swords. These are just flesh wounds, it's nothing."

Methos watched her finish getting ready and admired her fine legs. As Darcy passed in front of him he grabbed her hand. His skin was aching to feel her touch. It's wasn't lust it was need.

She knelt at his feet, staring into his eyes, "What's wrong?"

"I love you so much," He said gently and kissed her mouth. His hands slid down her arms and wrapped around her back.

Darcy had never seen him so vulnerable before. He was scared of something. She held Methos as she clutched her body. His breath was warm against her neck; his hands firmly pressed to her back. She could feel the beat of his heart in his chest. It was the same steady rhythm that had gone on for five thousand years.

"You're scared for me," She whispered, "Why?"

"I don't know." He was crying softly, "I just...I'm afraid of losing you."

"Oh man," Darcy smoothed a hand through his black hair. "Methos, we've been over this a thousand times. We can't let Alexander run our lives; he's dead, for good. You took him remember?"

Methos nodded his head against her shoulder. "But still I fear for us."

"Did Phil say something?"

"He didn't have to. He made it obvious."

Darcy sat back, holding his face between her palms. "Methos, I don't believe this. You've got to stop worrying. I'm not some dopy broad who jumped your bones for fun. This is me you're dealing with here. We go way back you and me. No Count of wine or bitchy mother is going to interfere with us. Not after we faced off against Alexander the Great just to get married!"

Methos stared into her bright green eyes; he could see her drive, her passion. Darcy wasn't going to break and run. He touched her hair and kissed her lightly.

A knock came at the door, startling them both. "A moment," Methos called and stood up, he crossed to the door and opened it.

Roger stepped into the room and looked between them. "Sorry to interrupt, but it's time to go."

Darcy stood and quickly tied her hair back with an elastic. "We'll be right down."

Methos changed to a causal black suit with a blue shirt and black tie with pinstripes. Darcy was amused at how they matched; she carried a blue jacket over her arm.

Roger was waiting for them in the foyer; he wore a fine Italian gray suit. He smiled at his daughter and hugged her.

"You look wonderful darling," He eyed Methos, "Very nice, Adam."

"Thank you."

Roger drove them to the fashion show. He was using one of the Count's cars.

"Phil has assigned everyone a car for the two weeks." Roger informed them as they moved to cross the street. "How was shopping?"

"A nightmare, you know how much I hate shopping.

The room was mostly full as Roger, Darcy and Methos entered. Methos sensed an Immortal nearby. A young man in a white shirt and black pants stopped them.

"Invitations please."

"It's alright, Louis." Phil stepped up behind the young man, "I'm glad you could make it Darcy."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

They settled in front row seats; the lights went down and music came up. It was fast and pumping with a wild show of lasers in the beginning. A female voice echoed across the room. "Thank you all for coming to this year's collection of Victoria's Secret."

The show began with a bang, literally, the first model stepped out as a cloud of smoke swirled up to the ceiling.

At the end of the show; Darcy and her family were invited, (We won't take no for an answer) to the party.

The room was full of thin, tall women and ego filled designers. A series of large screen televisions replayed the show as music flowed in the background. Darcy hung near the back balcony as the room laughed and joked. Mac and Amanda were near the front talking with the Lauren and Phil. They were saying good bye to couple before stepping out the door. Becky was being adored by reporters. Darcy caught sight of her parents who where chatting it up with the designer.

"You look worn out," Methos startled her. Darcy hadn't heard him come up behind her. "Let's get out of here."

"I have to let my father know,"

They crossed the floor together; Darcy tapped her father's shoulder. Roger turned and smiled warmly.

"We're heading out, I've had enough." Darcy said as her mother turned slightly.

Roger nodded, "I understand." He looked to Adam, "Are you okay to drive?"

Methos nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Running already?" Janice asked.

Darcy ignored her father, "See you later, Dad." She kissed him on the cheek and turned to go.

"Darcy," Her mother raised her voice slightly, "Remember what we spoke about earlier."

Darcy left the room and welcomed the chill night air. She stood there for a few minutes, pulling in the cold air. Methos draped her coat around her shoulders.

"I take it you two had a fight?" He asked as he crossed to Roger's car and unlocked her door.

"Don't ask," Darcy snapped and climbed in.

Methos shut the door and went to the driver's side.

The house glowed like a beacon in the night. But for some reason, Darcy was unsettled by it.

"I am going for a walk." She said, hugging herself against the light. Methos kissed her lightly and she left.

He watched her disappear into the shadows. Looking down at the keys in his palm, he considered going inside. Shaking the idea loose Methos went inside

Darcy was cold as she walked. She kept rubbing her arms and shivering, noting helped.

"Darcy,"

She turned, expecting Methos, not Phil. She smiled anyway, "Hi."

"You look so sad." He said gently, cigar smoke filled the air.

"Oh no, just worn out, my family takes a lot of energy." She admitted lightly and he nodded.

"Would mind if I walked with you?" He asked.

"Not at all."

They walked along the darkened path; the rocks crunched as trees hugged the path. Phil spoke gently after a few minutes.

"Darcy, I understand you care for Methos," Phil was trying to chose is words, "But your kind and ours...we don't mix."

Darcy glanced at him, a suddenly bad feeling fell over her. "So?'

Phil tossed the cigar into the ground. "So, you have left me with no choice."

Darcy stepped sideways as his blade swept out his coat. Darcy didn't hang around, she ran down the path. Phil's laughter echoed in the air as she ran for her life.

Methos stepped into the warm shower as he yawned. The warmth sealed around him and the rush of water soothed his strained body.

Darcy kept sliding on the rocky path. She kicked off her heels and ran harder. Pain was spreading along her rib cage as she searched for the house. A glimpse of light to the left made her dive into the trees. She had to get there!

Darcy broke free of the trees and fell as her ankle twisted in a root. A cry of pain escaped her as she struggled to stand. A shadow fell across her path. She looked up into the face of Count Philippe de Chardonnay. His sword glinted off the light of the house.

"Good bye Mrs. Pierson."

Methos buttoned his jeans when he was suddenly knocked backward. A scream filled his head as if it were beside him. He recognized the voice and grabbed his sword. He ran toward the sound of his wife's terrified scream.

Darcy rolled on the ground, avoiding the downward swing of a broad sword. Standing was useless, but she could crawl and she could still use her arms. None of which was going to help her. Darcy drew in a breath and forced her self to stand. Pain roared through her limbs; still she ran, the house was getting closer.

Methos ran through the house in bare feet and jeans. As he ran he felt Phil's presence and knew he was close.

"Please, let me be in time." He pleaded softly.

Darcy kept falling but was forcing her self to move. Phil however was of a different mind set. Using one hand he grabbed her hair and flung her backward. Darcy hit the ground hard, something cracked in her side.

"You just don't understand, do you?" Phil raged at her. "Mortals don't belong in our world!"

"What about Lauren?" Darcy shouted at him, biting back the urge to cry. "She's mortal."

"She's rich, that's all I care about."

Darcy drew in a breath against the waves of pain, "You're already rich."

Phil grinned as he kicked her left side. "It never hurts...to be richer. I am a conquer Mrs. Pierson, some habits die...harder then others."

Darcy wanted to stop moving but she wasn't willing to die yet. Phil moved to strike when he paused, his eyes widened and he looked around. Darcy recognized it as the sense of an Immortal.

Methos came running around the corner. The house lights splashed across his chiseled upper body. Methos' strong features were drawn in anger as he stalked toward the Count. His sword flashed brilliantly as he pointed it at Phil in silent challenge.

Phil scoffed at him, "Don't be a fool, Methos. She's only a mortal."

"She's my wife, Philippe."

Phil turned his back on Darcy and switched sword hands, "You were always a fool."

Methos stepped into a fight position; he never looked away from Philippe.

Darcy backed away as their swords clashed in the night. Phil's black tuxedo strained and ripped as they fought. Methos looked like a Heathen god as he battled in only jeans. A thrust from Phil reversed positions, Darcy watched her husband's back. As he fought the muscles clenched and relaxed. His skin glowed in pale radiance under the electric lights of the house.

Darcy saw the misstep on Phil's part and didn't flinch when his head came off.

THE NEXT DAY

Darcy didn't comfort Lauren as she swept. Becky and their mother were clinging to her. Darcy wanted to leave but knew she couldn't; everyone had to be present at the reading of Phil's will.

Methos was sitting beside Darcy in a relaxed, quiet manner. Darcy rested her head against his chest; his arms were loose around her waist. Absently she stroked his fingers.

Mac and Amanda hadn't come home last night, Methos assured Darcy they were just fine. And Roger was lingering by the bar, a half-filled glass in one hand. He looked dazed.

Everyone turned as the door opened and in walked a plain looking man. He glanced at Darcy and Methos. Darcy nodded to the crying trio. He shifted his gaze to them and frowned slightly.

"Ms. Thompson?" He asked; the twins looked up in unison, which of you is Lauren?"

"I am," Lauren lifted her hand; her eyes were all red and puffy. "You must be Mr. Whitman?"

"Yes," He nodded and looked around the room, "I take it we are all here?"

"Yes." Lauren gave a great sniff, "What did Phil say in his will?"

Mr. Whitman pursed his lips, "To put it simply, Ms. Thompson. He left you everything, including the title."

Darcy's jaw dropped; Janice gasped as her eyes lit up. Lauren was blinking at him in disbelief. There was a crash of glass and everyone looked to Roger. He wore the same expression as Darcy: shock.

Hours later, Mr. Whitman left with signed papers. Lauren had recovered once told she the Countess de Chardonnay. The grieving widow had vanished in the blink of an eye.

"Mother, come on!" Lauren shouted again, her voice carried through the house. She paused at the sight of her sister coming down the stairs a step behind her husband. "Leaving so soon Darcy?"

Darcy paused, "I feel its best." She paused, unsure of what to say next. "Good bye Lauren."

Methos was standing beside Roger as Darcy closed the front door. She crossed the gravel drive way with a forlorn expression. Not even noticing the limousine nearby.

Methos wrapped his arms around her as she leaned against him with a sigh.

A moment later the front door opened again. All three looked as Lauren led the parade out the door. She was wearing an incredible fur coat; followed by Janice who wore an expensive suit and jacket. Becky hurried behind them, also dressed nicely.

"I always knew that would happen," Roger muttered. "Sooner or later, Lauren would take over and Becky would-"

"Would take my place." Darcy whispered as she watched them pile into the limousine. "I don't know how you stand it, Dad."

"I don't." He said easily and looked to Darcy, "Your mother and I are separated. Divorcing is too much of a hassle; the whole division of assets...." Roger shook his head. "Living in separate homes, living our own lives; we're better off."

Darcy laughed softly as she hugged her husband, "I should say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

Roger grinned at her, "I'm not either. Janice is a good woman, but I don't know how I lived with her for twenty-four yeas."

Roger went to the driver's side and slid behind wheel

Methos opened the back door for Darcy and climbed in the front of the car.

"So, what do you do Mr. Thompson?"

END OF CHAPTER SIX