Methos looked in on the teenager's room and tried not to trip over too much junk. Admittedly it had been five millenia since he'd been that age, but he didn't think he'd hoarded that much junk when he'd been a teenager. He looked over at his friend and the way Ben negotiated his way around the piles of stuff. It was easy to see from that alone how important this kid had to be, which made Methos pause. Ben wasn't the type to involve himself in mortal lives.
At least, he didn't used to be. Now that he was living and working with them on a daily basis, Methos had to really wonder just what Ben was up to. He knew his old friend well enough to understand that Ben almost always had an agenda or hidden plan behind everything he did. Part of what made being his friend so much fun.
Look, Ben, can you just go away for a few minutes? I'm trying to get dressed!
And I'm here to help you do just that. I told you that red shirt was a date-killer. This one isn't much better. If you really wanna get on her good side, wear the striped one.
The striped one? the kid answered dubiously, though Methos had to agree with Ben. The striped one was a dating shirt.
Trust me on this. I may not know much, but I know women, Ben said as the boy selected the shirt and tugged it on, following the two immortals out of the room and back down to the mess hall.
It's true, Methos broke in, not bothering to hide his grin. I've seen him charm women from one nation to the next, one century to the next. It's obscene how easily he can get women to come to his side.
Face it, you were always jealous of that, Ben pointed out, desperatly trying to deflect the conversation. Ben always did hate talking about himself.
Not really, no. I happen to enjoy a good, long-term relationship myself, Methos replied, holding the mess door open and walking back in, noting that a woman had joined the group they'd left behind. She looked to be older than the rest and she spoke with a British accent.
Ah, so you must Ben's friend. My name is Kristen, she said as Ben walked his group over to them.
Adam Pierson, Methos returned smoothly, taking a hand and bringing her knuckles to his lips with a gallant flourish. Behind him, Ben cleared his throat.
Don't what?
Just... don't, okay?
Aww, why?
Trust me on this.
Trust you, Ben? Not likely. That brought a few grins to the assembled mortals. Apparently, they felt the same way about him. Unfortunatly for them, they didn't realize that he was just kidding with Ben. Ben had proven his trustworthiness a dozen or more times over again during the time they'd known each other. In fact, Ben had helped Methos to keep his head on his shoulders more times than Methos was really comfortable with.
But Ben was a good friend and never made mention of it. Something even people like Duncan had problems with, keeping track of who saved whom and how, and most importantly, who owed whom for what.
Ben never cared for that. Something that Methos figured the mortals around him would never have guessed. Knowing Ben, he'd gone for his idiot routine to keep them at bay from asking personal questions that he really couldn't answer.
Coming back to the situation at hand, Methos dropped Kristen's hand and heaved a semi-mock sigh. She was pretty enough that Methos thought her worth the effort to persue.
Enough of this, I gotta go, the boy said, poking Ben in the ribs. Ben nodded at Methos went to escort the kid to a cab. Methos blinked at the witty banter that the two engaged in on their way out, Ben pestering about details of this mystery woman, Lucas answering back about how that was his knowledge and not Ben's.
Who is she? Methos quietly asked as soon as Ben was out of earshot. The mortals looked around at each other for a quick moment, then Kristen apparently took charge and answered.
Who is whom?
Don't play that game with me. Since you all know about us, let's just skip all the lies and stories and cut to the chase. I've known Ben for far, far longer than any of you have. I've known him long enough to realise when something is going on with him, and right now, something is, Methos challenged, well aware that he could be destroying Ben's carefully laid cover story and not really caring one way or the other.
Once again, the mortals looked like contrite children who were caught sneaking a frog into class. Well... um... you see here, he was sorta... um... married, the shy one stammered out into the silence. Then his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as Methos turned and glared at him with unbelieving eyes.
Come again? Methos nigh-demanded, pretty sure he'd misheard the linguist.
Ben Krieg used to be married to a woman, and she's working on this boat, Kristen elaborated diplomatically.
On this ship? You've got to be kidding me. Who is she- no, wait. Let me guess. About this tall, dark hair, really blue eyes? Methos held his hand off the floor.
That's her, yes, Kristen confirmed. Didn't you know, since you are such a good friend of his? Apparently, this mortal couldn't resist twisting the knife a little bit.
Given that it's been a number of years since I'd even heard from Ben, no, I didn't, Methos quietly answered, his mind buzzing with this new information. Ben was married? That just didn't make sense. No, not the Ben he knew. Which meant... Methos sighed. He was not going to enjoy what had to happen. She has got to be one incredible woman to catch his eye like that.
What do you mean? Kristen, the apparent spokeswoman, asked into the silence.
What I means is- hey, Ben! Good trip? Methos quickly switched tracks as that noteable walked back in, having sent the kid away on his date.
Pretty good. Now what's going on? Ben demanded after taking one look at the faces in the room.
Methos responded by grabbing the crate of alcohol that his good friend had collected for this meeting and walking to one of the farthest tables away from the mortals in the mess hall to get at least a little privacy. He sank into a chair, pulling out an ancient beer and looking around for a cap remover.
Instead of getting right to the point, Methos started the conversation off about inconsequential topics, the weather, what it's like working underwater, how the pay is. Ben looked rather suspicious at the conversation, but gamely went along, willing to wait for his friend to get around to the point.
Willing to wait for only so long, though. Cut the crap, Adam, and just tell me what's going on, Ben all but growled, cutting Methos off in mid-sentence.
I could ask the same of you, Methos said without looking up from his cap remover hunt, really wanting to get at that beer. He'd be needing the alcohol for this chat. What's up with this? Your job, your life, these mortals, everything. This isn't you, Ben. What's up?
Ben went quiet for a long time, so long that Methos finally had to look up. Gone was the usual playfulness in his eyes, the curve to his lips. Ben looked old and tired.
I wish I knew, my friend. I wish I knew. My life seemed so simple a decade ago. No changes, nothing new, just working from one day to the next and keeping my head on my neck. Simple enough, right? Well, then I met someone who changed that completely.
That woman you were talking with earlier?
Nah, someone else. A man named Robert Bridger.
Bridger? Your captain's father?
His son, actually.
His son? When was this?
Almost... six years now.
Six years? Just six years? Methos gaped at Ben, almost not believing him. Six years was nothing to an immortal.
I know it's hard to believe. But it's only been six years since I met Robby. It's funny, but it's so easy to lose track of just how long six years really is. Especially for you and I, anything less than a decade can pass in an eyeblink. But now that I live and work with mortals on a daily basis, I can see now just how long six years really can be. Take a look over at O'Neil over there.
Methos dutifully turned over his shoulder to look at the group of mortals, who was staring back at them, trying to eavesdrop without being obvious about it. Methos focused on the bespeceled lieutenant.
He speaks six languages fluently and is okay in a dozen more. And he learned all of those in a little under two years. That's it, just two years. Whereupon I'm still having trouble with my languages; I can barely understand English, and I've had almost a century to use it! I suppose what I'm trying to say is that until you live and work and breathe with mortals, it's so easy to forget just how long the years can be. But now I understand what that's like and I look back on my life... and I see just how badly I was wasting all those centuries of just wandering around. I could've been learning languages, pottery, or anything other than swordplay. It's funny how it takes a group of mortals to really make me appreciate the time that I have.
Methos was speechless. No words would form in his mind. To hear something like that coming from Ben completely rocked his mind. I've never looked at it that way, Methos finally croaked out, thinking back over the fifty centuries of his life. There would always be recriminations about missed opportunities and poor choices, but it'd been so long since he'd had a mortal outlook on life that he'd forgotten what it was like. Not even when he was undercover inside the Watcher organisation did he come close to the mortals. He'd always kept his distance. What are you going to do now? Ben shrugged.
I don't know. I'm trying to perfect my English, though, he smiled softly at his own joke. I have no idea what's going to happen in the next few years. I'm sad to say that I've become extremely attached to these people and it's going to hurt when they die. I can tell you that much now.
Methos thought back over the multitude of his mortal relationships over the years, how each one of them had ended in the tragedy of their mortal nature. That it will, my friend. That it will, he softly said, knowing that Ben was set on this path of his own choice and that sooner or later he'd have to deal with the consequences of that choice.
But, enough of all this morose talk. You, Ben said, pulling out the cap remover that had so completely evaded Methos, and I, he continued, pulling out his own bottle of beer, have two hundred and thirty-seven years worth of catching up to do. What's new with you?
Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Nearly losing my head, getting caught up in a multitude of MacLeod adventures, he grinned when Ben winced in sympathy. The members of the MacLeod clan were legendary in their ability to get wrapped up in events far beyond their control and still trying to make things right, nearly killing everyone around them in the process.
That must be something to hear.
Oh, yeah. You know who Kalas was, right? Duncan finally got around to settling things with him. It was in Paris, almost fifteen years ago.
Now this I have to hear, Ben said, clinking his bottle of beer against Methos' and settling in for the story and catching up with his friend.