4)

MacLeod speedily entered the hotel lobby. The clerk looked at him with both professional curiosity and irritation. MacLeod realized that although he might not feel like being nice and polite, he should be exactly this if he wanted to get the information he desired instead of being kicked out by hotel security. This for the reason it was an exclusive hotel, they would not appreciate rude behavior.

'Can I help you?' the clerk asked politely, not showing any signs of the annoyance on his face a little earlier.

MacLeod smiled to appease him. 'I am looking for Michael de Wind. I was informed he is staying here.'

The young man looked at him questioningly. 'Is he one of the dentists?'

'Dentists?' The look MacLeod met told him he was supposed to know this.

'Our hotel is hosting the Annual International Conference of Dentists. They are using the whole hotel. So if the man you are looking for is staying here, he must be visiting this conference.'

Okay, so maybe De Wind was a dentist. 'He could be a dentist. All I know is he gave me this contact address.' This was of course not true, MacLeod was just checking all hotels. 'He is a Dutchman,' MacLeod offered.

The desk clerk seemed to think it was rather strange, but he did look into the computer. 'Yes, there is a Michael de Wind listed. But I don't know if…'

'Sheila?' A young woman was asked for help. 'Do you occasionally know Michael de Wind?'

The girl smiled. 'Oh yes, Dutchman right? He is here with a woman, although I haven't seen her in a while.'

A woman? MacLeod felt like he was struck by lightning. De Wind couldn't have been here with Anne, could he? If he was, it just didn't make any sense.

'But he is having dinner in the dining hall,' the female hotel employee continued.

MacLeod was excited he had located the other immortal. But he knew the other man had not made it very hard for him to do so.

'Thank you,' MacLeod thanked them and calmly made his way to the dining hall. It was dinner time…


'That was the very pleasant story of how we met,' Methos finished his story. Joe had listened closely and had never interrupted him. Methos realized Joe would not understand it all, but he hoped the mortal man would realize he owed Menes.

'He obviously didn't take your head,' Joe noted.

'No, he didn't.'

'Why not?'

Methos had rather not answered this question, but knew he had to because if not, Joe would confuse his situation with Richie's. 'He thought I needed help.'

'Did you?'

Joe was, completely understandable, curious about these days. Mortals always wanted stories about old times. Methos thought back to what he had been these days: an emotionally wreckage. He laughed wryly. 'I just came away from Kronos, so what do you expect?'

Joe seemed to be both shocked and understanding. 'Methos,' the bar owner finally spoke. 'What are you doing here?'

Methos thought of Menes and MacLeod. Both had helped him with the horsemen: Menes had helped him accept they were in his past, while MacLeod had permanently removed them from his life. He hoped they would both survive. The saddest thing of this whole situation was it was entirely his fault.

'Waiting.'

'Waiting for what!' Joe cried out. His facial expression slowly changed, he now realized what he was waiting for. 'Methos..'

Methos was glad Joe felt some sympathy, he was the only one. 'Pour me something stronger.'


He looked up, and was welcomed by the sight of a certain Highlander entering the dining hall. The man was no doubt here to disturb his evening meal. It was no surprise MacLeod had showed up, but the fact he was here now already showed he really wanted his head. Too bad.

'Mister MacLeod,' he acknowledged his presence when he had arrived at his table. He took a bite of his delicious stake and gestured his visitor to have a seat.

MacLeod sat down reluctantly. A waiter immediately showed up with an extra wine glass. 'Do you wish to eat too?'

'No thank you,' MacLeod declined politely. The man did have good manners.

'Should I get you some more wine?' the server inquired. Menes smiled inwardly. He looked at MacLeod questioningly. The other man showed him he was not here to be nice company. And that was exactly why he would get a drink.

'Yes, that would be nice.'

'The same?'

'Please.'

Macleod was near to grinding his teeth, but he waited patiently for the waiter to return with the wine. When the waiter was finally gone, MacLeod surprised Menes by not speaking right away but to taste the wine first. If the man liked wine he would not be disappointed, it was one of the finest red wines of the last decade.

'Ninety-six?'

Well, the man evidently knew something about wine. 'Yes. It is good, isn't it?'

MacLeod nodded in agreement. 'And expensive.'

Menes shrugged. 'I must spend my money on something.' Under the watchful eye of MacLeod he drank some too. 'Let's not waste it and drink it before we get to business.' He was not worried about the effects of the wine; he had not drunk much and he had enough experience with alcohol to be able to stomach it.

MacLeod smiled coolly. 'I will grant you your last meal.'

Oh, how subtle. His honor did not allow him to let the other man get away with it like this that easily. 'How was yours?'


MacLeod made his way through the dark streets of Seacouver at a steady pace. He looked back every once in a while to see if Michael de Wind was still following him as well if he did not follow too closely. But De Wind kept the same pace as he did, thereby maintaining the distance between them.

When MacLeod looked over his shoulder again, the Dutchman offered him a faint smile. 'I don't kill from behind, I have more honor than that.'

MacLeod halted for a few seconds so De Wind could catch up with him. Conversations like this shouldn't be loud, a mortal might hear. 'You might run,' he revealed his other concern.'

The other immortal shook his head calmly, MacLeod thought he almost seemed sad. 'I am not like Methos.'

Methos. MacLeod realized that until now he had not known if the Dutchman knew about who Methos really was. Apparently he did. The fact Methos had revealed his identity to this man meant he had trusted him with the information. 'So he told you.'

De Wind was now walking a little in front of him, far enough so MacLeod couldn't see his face. But he did get an answer.

'In the times we met, his name meant nothing yet.'

MacLeod became somewhat concerned, because the words indicated the man was old. Not that he couldn't handle old timers, he had successfully fought Caspian, Kronos and Methos himself, but the fact he had found it very difficult to deal with him at the dojo could mean this man was a formidable warrior who gained a lot of quickenings and thereby strength.

After walking in silence for a while, they reached the park MacLeod had intended as the destination. It was remote, lying between the large gardens of some very big villas. In here they would only been seen by people in the park itself of in these gardens, which was both very unlikely.

'I assume you planned to go over there?' De Wind asked, half rhetorically.

MacLeod answered by entering the park. It was not really dark because it was full moon, but MacLeod had been here many times before so he did not need the light to decide which trail to take. After rounding a duck pond they ended up by a large lawn surrounded by trees. Lit by the moonlight, it was an excellent location for a duel.

MacLeod took hold of his sword and dropped his coat to the ground. He walked on a little bit and turned around. De Wind approached him with his sword loosely in his right hand. It appeared as if he was just taking a stroll, no sign of any tension was visible.

He finally halted about five meters in front of MacLeod. Surprisingly he didn't take a firm hold of his Ivanhoe yet, but looked up at the sky. He spoke some words under his breath, in a language MacLeod did not understand or recognize. MacLeod assumed it was some kind of prayer.

Well, the man would need it.

Their battle began viciously. Apparently his opponent had by coincidence chosen the same tactic to begin with: strike hard and fast. This was probably the reason they both failed.

The swordfight continued the way their first battle had ended. They circled around each other, attempting to find an opening in the defense of the adversary. MacLeod tried to vary his movements; he attacked first slow, then fast, then he tried to disarm him and next he tried to stab him. Of course De Wind did the same.

MacLeod eventually found an opening when the other man for some reason lost balance. It was only a second, but that was long enough for MacLeod to stick his katana through De Wind's right forearm. The pain reflex made him drop his Ivanhoe. He also fell to his knees, one leg in a somewhat odd position behind his body. MacLeod realized his rival must have stepped in a hole and because of that lost his balance because he was stuck. Too bad for him, but MacLeod wouldn't let him get up again. Lost is lost, no matter how.

Michael de Wind immediately tried to pick his blade up again with his other hand, but MacLeod had anticipated this. He had already moved in, and now put his foot on the Dutchman's hand. He put all his weight on it, which caused the hand to break clearly hearable.

To complete his victory, MacLeod kicked away the Ivanhoe out of reach and put his katana on the throat of his defeated opponent. De Wind sat on his knees and breathed heavily. MacLeod looked him in his eyes. During his life he had seen fear, anger, hatred, despair and acceptance in the eyes of the immortals he had overpowered, and he had seen these emotions in all combinations. These eyes just held acceptance.

MacLeod raised his sword to take the head.

'Do me a favor,' Michael de Wind suddenly spoke. He didn't scream or anything like that, but had spoken with a normal voice. MacLeod halted his sword midway, allowing him to speak.

'Tell Methos I don't blame him.'

Tell Methos I don't blame him? MacLeod had no idea what this was supposed to mean, or why he had asked this. He would never get the answer, so why bother? 'Blame him for what?'

De Wind swallowed loudly. 'For choosing you instead of me.'

'Methos chose me!'

MacLeod had not intended to say anything, but De Wind's words had made all his anger towards Methos come out at once. Now he just wanted answers. To show the other man he was serious, he pushed his katana against his throat, forcing him to bend backwards into a painful position. But De Wind couldn't back up any further, so the katana cut into his skin. A small trail of blood dripped down his throat, into his collar.

'If not he would have told you.'

'Told me what!' MacLeod spit out heatedly. He increased the pressure on his weapon, deepening the cut. In fact he was beheading him, but slowly enough to allow the Dutchman to give him a few more answers. If De Wind would believe he still had a chance to survive, he might answer more readily.

De Wind opened his mouth, but suddenly seemed to realize something which made him close his mouth again without speaking. 'Forget it,' he finally managed to say, gasping in pain. 'Could you please do it faster!'

This was an unusual request. But MacLeod was not about to grant it. This because he had seen fear on the man's face. This while he had never shown any sign he was afraid of his upcoming death. No, he had been afraid for someone else. And there was only one possibility.

'You are protecting Methos,' MacLeod stated. The fact De Wind did not deny it told the Highlander this was a correct assumption. 'What are you protecting him from?'

The Dutchman laughed out loud, almost unrestrained. 'Use your brains if you have any!'

MacLeod did. And when he finally realized what the kneeling man must have meant, he lifted his sword and struck hard in frustration.


Methos was still sitting at the bar. He had not left his position for hours and had not been interesting in anything happening around him. Even when Joe had been on stage he had not paid attention. Joe had never seen this with Methos, who had always been able to hide his feelings and thoughts. But not tonight.

When Joe had no clients to serve anymore, he checked on the old man. He had his eyes half closed and stared at his empty glass. Joe had no idea how many alcoholic drinks he had consumed, but Joe knew it would be sufficient for a considerable hangover.

Several minutes later Methos suddenly became alert. He did not turn around to look, but his head shot up. Joe knew what this meant: an approaching immortal.

The immortal was MacLeod. Methos still didn't look, is if he didn't want to know yet. Joe almost felt guilty towards Methos, but he was relieved the Highlander had returned.

'Hey Mac,' Joe greeted his friend casually, meanwhile informing Methos who had arrived. Joe decided not to ask anything about De Wind yet to spare Methos. This if anything happened, because Joe couldn't detect if MacLeod had suffered a quickening. If he did, it must have been a couple of hours ago. 'Scotch?'

MacLeod nodded and took the stool next to Methos. 'Why not.'

His voice had held some menace, which Methos had detected too. He carefully watched MacLeod as if he considered him a great threat.

Joe handed MacLeod his drink, who instantly took a swallow of the liquid. Then he faced Methos, his face blank. Too blank. To Joe it appeared as if he tried to hide his anger.

'You killed Anne.'

What! Joe couldn't believe what MacLeod had just said and was about to tell him, but stopped when he saw Methos' face. The old man did not deny it, but looked straight back at MacLeod. It was as if Methos was now relieved of an enormous burden. 'Yes, I did.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' MacLeod asked, sounding almost sad. Joe wondered if it was a rhetorical question or if MacLeod really did not have an idea.

Methos shook his head in amazement. 'Have you seen yourself lately?'

The anger flashed in Mac's eyes again. He refused to answer though, but stared at Methos.

'I had no idea how you would react after…..' Methos paused and swallowed. '….after Kronos.'

'So you let me go after an innocent man, a friend of yours?' MacLeod asked unbelievingly. 'Nice friend you are!'

Methos was in defense. But he wasn't afraid to do so, not anymore. Joe wished he had stood up earlier, than a lot of problems between them could have been prevented.

'I didn't know he would show up,' Methos spoke. 'Besides, he can take care of himself.' Methos paused and stared at his glass. 'At least I thought so…'

His voice trembled and he looked miserable. It was clear he felt guilty, extremely guilty. MacLeod noticed too, but he wasn't about to leave Methos alone. It was like he would try to get advantage of this.

'I've got one question left.'

Methos looked up. He would probably be glad when MacLeod would finally leave him alone. 'You challenged her?'

Methos stared at him unbelievingly. 'Of course not!'

'And that case you didn't run very hard,' MacLeod said skeptically.

Blame me again, was the meaning Joe gave the Methos' facial expression. 'Ever tried to outrun a bullet?'

MacLeod obviously had no clue, and neither had Joe. 'What are you talking about?' Joe asked.

Methos groaned. 'I ran into her a few blocks from here. She wanted to fight me, I refused. She shot me, put me in her trunk and drove me to a remote location.'

MacLeod shook his head, not believing him. Or not wanting to believe him. 'She shot you?'

'Yes.' Methos looked at MacLeod, and immediately added: 'But she did give me my sword back.' Joe thought it was touching, Methos tried to make MacLeod feel better even though he had never tried to do the same for him.

'And you used it,' MacLeod said flatly.

Methos nodded unenthusiastically. 'Yeah. Like it is done for centuries.'

Joe poured himself a shot of tequila and gave MacLeod and Methos a refill. They were silent for a while, sipping their drinks. It was almost peaceful now, but Joe knew this couldn't last long because there was still one thing unsettled. Menes.

Eventually the delicate subject matter was brought up by Methos. 'Did you find him?'

MacLeod nodded. 'Yeah, I found him.'

There was something in his voice that made Joe believe this was not all, that there was more to tell. 'Did you take his head?' Joe posed the question Methos didn't dare to ask.

MacLeod shook his head. 'No.' He paused and then rephrased. 'Well, I guess I did it to a certain extent.'

'So you did win?' Joe asked, now in Watcher mode.

'Yep.' MacLeod emptied his glass. 'He was good, but not invincible.'

'But he is still alive?' Methos inquired, soundinga bit hopeful..

MacLeod checked his watch. 'He probably is now again.' Joe began to wonder what a "beheading to a certain extent" really meant. Apparently it had done a lot of damage.

Methos was relieved, although Joe could find very little evidence of it. But he was curious about something. 'Why did you let him live?'

'Because he let Richie live.' Earlier he hadn't cared about that, so this couldn't explain everything. MacLeod seemingly realized this too, because he continued. 'I had discovered he was in Seacouver with Anne. And unintentionally he made me realize he was protecting you.'

Methos shook his head. 'But he didn't know.'

'I assume he did do his math.' MacLeod said. He faced Joe. 'When he came to you as a Watcher, did you by any chance discuss who it could have been?'

Joe could easily recall their conversation. 'Yes we did. I told him there was no one who should be considered.'

'He knew it wasn't Richie, because they were together at that time,' Methos thought out loud. 'And I told him you were after him, so it wouldn't make sense if you did it yourself.'

'So the only one left was you,' Joe concluded.

Methos drained his glass at once. 'If I keep going like this, I will be dead this decade!'