TIMELESS – CHAPTER ELEVEN

LOST IN TIME

Methos stood on the bridge watching the ice under him. The freezing winter breeze echoed the chill in his heart. His eyes kept going to the naked skin of his left ring finger. He missed the ring. He missed Darcy. Methos shook himself and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

With the cold weather very few people were out doors. Methos shivered as the presence of an Immortal washed over him. He looked up, expecting Mac, he frowned at the sight of another man.

The man was sitting inside the café; he stared at Methos and nodded to the empty chair. Methos pulled in a breath; the air froze all the way down, it did little good.

"I heard you got married," The man remarked absently, "But I don't see a ring."

Methos hunched around the tiny cup of coffee, "What do you want Ryan?"

"I want to enjoy a cup of coffee and conversation." Ryan stared at the hurting soul of the world's oldest man. "Why don't you start?"

Methos drew in a breath as the word's spilled out. "The very first moment I laid eyes on her; I felt my soul awaken. The day was hot..."

ELSEWHERE IN PARIS

Mac opened the door to Metho's apartment; he paused the frigid air that touched him, something was wrong. Mac considered drawing his sword but stopped.

When he had left the other day, the apartment had been a wreck. Now it stood clean. The floor was gleaming without a single trace of blood on it. The bed was stripped bare leaving only the mattress. In the kitchen as well; everything had been cleared out, not a single dish or food item could be found. It was gone.

Mac stood in the empty apartment and caught sight of something. Crossing to the door he closed it slightly and found a note.

Not even time...good bye – Darcy Pierson.

Mac sighed as he felt a strange sense of loss. He hadn't realized how much he liked Darcy. Mac shook his head as he though of their two days alone. Yes, okay, he admitted it, his thoughts had wandered to the sexual. But he also knew Darcy loved Methos. If she didn't love him she wouldn't have become so wild; so angry.

He looked around the apartment then down at the note. "Darcy..."

ANOTHER PART OF THE WORLD

Darcy Pierson signed the register and went up to her room. The small space held a single bed, a beat up dresser and a Bunsen burner atop a mini fridge. There was a washroom hardly encouraging; but the space was clean. Most importantly, it was free of memories. The sheets weren't full of Methos and the furniture didn't have his ghost on them. She was alone; again. Her gaze drifted to the gauzy curtains over the windows. She stood and stared at the balcony.

She stepped outside and looked at the small town below. The evening was deep with stars twinkling miles away. The narrow streets were warm and presently empty. There was the occasional sound of music and laughter not far from her.

Darcy's gaze went to the distant pyramids; the silver light of the moon lit over the peaks. Flooding down all sides of the ancient structures only to pool and wash over the sand.

Darcy sat up from bed and yawned. The memory faded like the dream that had brought it on.

She sat on the edge of the bed; staring at her feet, and crying. It came on suddenly and she let the tears fall on her legs. Wrapping her arms in a hug, Darcy huddled in on herself.

"No hope."

Returning to the warmth of her bed; Darcy dreamt of Methos.

PARIS

"You found this at my place?" Methos held the note in his hand as he read it for the seventh time. "But why? What does it mean?"
Mac shrugged, "I thought you might know. You're the one with history, remember?"

Methos frowned at the lack of help his years were offering. "I don't know, Mac." Methos sat on the couch and shook his head. "I don't know anything."

Mac sat next to the man and wanted to shake him. Instead, Mac grabbed the note from his hand.

"Do Cassandra and Darcy have any history? Have they met before now?"

"I don't know." Methos squeezed his eyes shut as if warding off the questions.

Mac was startled to see tears. They fell slowly as if unsure how their course. Mac stood up then sat down, he stood quickly and paced to the fireplace.

"I'm calling Roger." Mac announced and crossed to the phone. Methos was suddenly there, fighting him for the phone. "Methos!"

"No!" Methos pulled the phone out of Mac's hand. "No! You can't call him!"

"Look," Mac pointed a finger at the man, "You should be the one wanting to find her, not me. But instead, I am the one doing the work." Mac grabbed the phone, "Roger might know where to find her. You said yourself they shared a lot of memories."

"I said they might have. Roger seems to know her from another life." Methos made a grab for the phone. Mac evaded it. "You can't call him."

"Why not?" Mac poked Methos in the chest, "You don't seem too anxious to have her back."

Methos paused as he looked at Mac, "You however are very motivated."

Mac was quiet for a moment, "Methos, I would give my life to have a moment of what you and Darcy share. If I could have a woman look at me the way Darcy looks at you, I count myself as fortunate."
Methos watched his friend and suddenly realized something, "You love her."

Mac stared at the phone in his hand, he said nothing.

Methos kept staring at Mac, "Why? You have to know it's hopeless."

Mac looked up to Methos, "For me yes, but not for you."

The former Horseman shook himself and left the barge. Mac's words had hit a sore point with him. It was a hurt he had buried deep within himself.

EUROPE

The afternoon market was bustling and Darcy was enjoying the press of bodies. It was taking longer to find an exit then she thought. This being an open air market should have made it easy. But it wasn't the crowds were pressing in from all sides.

Darcy finally managed to free herself from the flood but was farther from home then she liked.

Balancing the weight of her bags, Darcy threaded her way along the narrow streets. She eventually found her way back to her small place. Climbing the wooden stairs to her floor, Darcy dug out her keys.

Placing both bags on the floor, Darcy struggled with the lock.

"Let me help."
Darcy turned as a fist smashed into her face. She fell backwards; she was grabbed from the floor and flung against her door. The surface shook but didn't break. The hands clawed at her face, burning pain spread across her skin.

"You don't remember me do you?" The voice was clearly a woman, but Darcy couldn't see her. "But I remember you."

Darcy felt pain rush over her as something cold plunged into her chest. Screams echoed in her head as finally she saw the woman.

Bright red hair, green eyes...yes she knew her now.

Cassandra stood over Darcy as the mortal collapsed to the ground. "You will remember soon."