Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Highlander the movies or TV show. I am pulling this out of my rear end. Please don't sue me cuz I ain't go no life.
Unwelcome light flooded the small bedroom. Through the night and throughout the mid-morning, Emily tried to hide beneath her pillow. She tried to block out the sounds of life going on outside her window and the neighboring apartments.
Canine barking from the apartment next door continually brought reminders of the horrible night Emily went through. Her sleep was assaulted by dreams of both peace and violence. She felt that each dream centered on nightmarish Halloweens. The images and voices had been so realistic, that she swore she had been there. Everything continued to change. The places, the faces, the locations, and the costumes were a jumbled mess.
One dream left an ache in her heart. It was an ache of longing, hope, and excitement. One moment she was getting married, dancing in the arms of a large, beautifully barbaric man. Then she was walking dark, dirty streets with torn clothing and no shoes. She was alone, hungry, and selling her body to survive. All she was feeling in these dreams was raw and bleeding hatred.
Tears ran from the corners of her eyes as she tried to remember the dark haired man with the deep brown, seductive eyes. His voice was like liquid silk that had washed her dream like musky incense. Emily had never seen or heard a man of his like before.
Rolling onto her back, Emily pulled the pillow over her eyes and tried to find rest.
A knock on her door forced Emily to open her eyes. Wanting to ignore it, she hoped the annoyance would disappear.
The knocking grew louder and more persistent. Emily through back the bed covers and weakly stumbled out of bed. The closer she got to the door, she felt dizzy and sick to her stomach. Her head began to buzz and her ears started ringing. A tingling sensation worked up her spine and the hairs on her neck rose.
Placing her left hand on the door jam, she rested her forehead against the door. Not wanting to open her eyes and not caring to look through the door's peephole, she roughly called out, "Who is it?"
A man's voice answered causally yet in a firm tone. His accent was smooth and European. Emily was puzzled. She gazed out the peephole and studied the stranger. He was tall, thin, and possibly her age. His hair was short and he wore a navy blue NIKE baseball cap. "He looks harmless, but this is New York City," she thought. She wasn't a fool.
"What do you want?" Emily demanded through the wooden door.
"Emily, my name is Adam Pierson. I'd like to talk with you about what happened last night."
Emily began to panic. "Perfect, a reporter. How the hell did he find me?" She yelled through the door, "Go away! I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing happened…"
The man wasn't accepting any denial. "Emily, I know what happened to you and I know what you're going through. You need some answers and I happen to have them."
Emily's heart skipped a beat and she realized that she's been holding her breath. She stared at the young man, on the other side of the door, trying to decide what to do.
"Go away or I'll call the cops," she half-heartedly choked. She continued to watch him to see what he would do.
The tingling sensation hadn't subsided and goose bumps had covered her arms and legs.
The man, who called himself Adam Pierson, leaned his back against the wall across from Emily's apartment door. He shoved both of his hands in the front pockets of his faded jeans. Emily watched as he brought his right knee up at a forty-five degree angle and placed the bottom of his right foot against the wall. He looked as if he planned to stay that way until she acknowledged him.
**********
With his back against the wall, Methos looked up at the ceiling and began counting the dead bugs collecting inside the track lighting case.
He knew that Emily was watching him from behind her closed door. He tried to seem as non-threatening as possible. "Women are much more cautious these days and always suspicious."
After counting bug number 47, he heard the dead bolt slide in its track and he saw the door slowly open. Emily opened the door until the gold plated chain lock became taught.
Methos could see her right foot braced against the bottom corner of the open door. She wasn't going to accept him as a passive person just yet. He smiled warmly and turned his ball cap backwards so there were no shadows on his face and nothing hidden behind his eyes. He held both arms out parallel to the floor to show that he held no items.
She closed the door enough to unlatch the lock, and then opened it wider for a better look.
Methos didn't make a move. He let her decide what to do. There was something special about this woman. He could tell that she was strong and brave, but he sensed a very vulnerable side as well.
Emily cleared her throat and asked, "How did you find me? What do you know about last night?"
Methos lowered his arms, looking up and down the hallway. "What I have to tell you is something you don't want your neighbors to hear. May I come in?"
Emily narrowed her eyes. She believed him, he wasn't a threat. She was curious enough to spare him a few moments of explanation. In a warning tone she replied, "I know Karate, so don't try anything."
Methos laughed lightly and agreed. Emily stepped aside and allowed him to enter. She watched him closely as she closed the door. She wasn't certain, but she thought the vibrating sensations increased as he drew nearer and then passed her.
The man's back was to her as he casually glanced around the meager apartment.
She took in his appearance and realized that he was thinner than she realized. His oversized sweatshirt hung from broad shoulders and hid a tapered waist.
"Mr. Pierson, you said that you have something to tell me. I'd like to hear what you have to say and then I'd like for you to leave." Emily could only think of returning to bed. She was fortunate to have the day off from work.
Methos turned to Emily and studied her intently. She was strong minded and determined, that much he could see. She held her head proudly and had a spark of defiance in her eyes. Methos smiled and suggested, "Perhaps we should sit down. This is not a five minute explanation."
Emily sighed and walked to her tiny kitchen to put on some water for strong coffee. She gestured toward the small table where two chairs leaned, "Please, sit. I can't see what is so significant. I was struck by lightning…I lived. What more can you say?"
Methos sat and watched her. When she was seated across from him, with two cups of coffee, he began to speak. He started with a story about the birth of a man called, Methuselah.