It was a testament to the human spirit that Joe could take the entire nightmare of that day and firmly place it in a little box inside his soul for eventual breakdown later. It was the same box he used when his legs were blown off, when his lover told him about their daughter, and that entire horrible mess with James.
Joe sped down the two-lane highway to leave Bordeaux because putting as much distance between himself and an enraged Horseman of the Apocalypse seemed the sensible thing to do.
It still felt surreal to think that. The actual four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Although he didn't think, despite what Cassandra said, that they were actually the inspiration for the biblical ones despite the similar names. According to Cassandra, the Immortal Four Horsemen took on the monikers of Death, Pestilence, Famine, and War, whereas the biblical ones were often identified as (not actually called) Conquest, Famine, War, and the final one Death and Hades. The general concept behind them was pretty universal (symbols of doom) so Joe figured even his ultra-strict Catholic nun schoolteachers wouldn't be too bothered by it.
Joe took a deep breath, shaking what he knew to be distractions from his mind. He had told (and here Joe felt acute pain) Duncan that he was staying behind but come on. Joe's his watcher and regardless of who Duncan was facing it was Joe's responsibility to observe and record for his chronicle. And seriously there was no way Joe was going to miss a showdown between the Highlander and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Regardless of how it ended, Joe knew it would probably be the most badass fight he'd ever witness.
And maybe that's why he was never really worried about the outcome of the fight.
Kronos was possibly the most absurd Immortal Joe had ever seen. It's just…he was monologuing and grandstanding like some sort of supervillain in a James Bond film. Joe actually thought, witnessing the whole confrontation between Duncan and Kronos through his parabolic mic, that it was all a joke. Nobody could seriously be like that. Yes, Duncan had faced some evil Immortals before, but they were always to a degree grounded in reality. Kronos acted like he truly was some larger-than-life force of nature.
Kronos acted like he wasn't part of reality and so Joe unconsciously fell back on fictional conventions. Since Kronos behaved like a genuine black hat rather than a flawed man who did evil things, it just seemed certain that Duncan would win. Of course he'd win, Duncan MacLeod was the good guy and the good guys always win.
But this wasn't a story, this was real life, and in real life, the bad guys sometimes win.
He glanced in his rear-view mirror, assuring himself for probably the thousandth time that nobody was following them. They lost Kronos back in town. The man was a several thousand years old Immortal but he didn't have magical powers. He couldn't possibly be tracking them.
Then again, Cassandra had magical powers so…
Don't think about it!
Joe knew he should reduce his speed to avoid being pulled over by the police (and having to explain a blood-soaked Methos) but somehow he found himself pushing the left-foot accelerator (the modification that allowed him to drive his car) even harder. The darkness of the night was absolute—a new moon was forecasted and the overcast sky left everything around them completely dark. It lent a very dreamlike state to the whole ride as Joe had the feeling in the back of his head that despite all logic Kronos was somehow tracking them. That it didn't matter if they went all the way to the South Pole, Kronos would find them.
The dark gloom was broken by yet another deep intake of breath from Methos. Glancing over at his mostly silent passenger Joe was struck by how unbelievably young Methos looked in the dim red light of the glowing radio panel.
Joe knew that age was an illusion with Immortals. However much an Immortal might seem to be in their 20s, 30s, and 40s, those ages were fake.
But right now, Methos looked his physical age rather than whatever age Joe usually tried to slot him into. Which, now that Joe thought about it, was more like a man around his age. Joe wondered what that said about his expectations and assumptions. Methos felt like a man in his late forties or early fifties. Not some rowdy kid he'd have to card. Methos didn't need grey hair or bad knees to seem more middle-aged than young. But now? For some reason the illusion was powerful and it left Joe wondering at what age Methos had his first death. Was he in his twenties maybe? He looked younger than…
…than Duncan.
Keep going, keep going Joe, Joe said to himself, once more tightening up his mental box and refusing to break down. Methos was already in a complete emotional breakdown and someone had to keep their wits.
Methos's face was streaked with tears and his eyes were red from crying. He wasn't attempting to hide his meltdown and Joe didn't know if it was because Methos trusted Joe or because he was so far gone from both the quickening and the grief that he didn't care.
Joe really, for many reasons, hoped it was the former.
After all, Joe hoped Methos considered them friends.
Duncan might have wanted to hold a grudge and yell at Methos for lying, but Joe knew life was too short to alienate his remaining friends. Was he angry at Methos? Oh yeah, Joe felt infuriated, this entire bombshell was just too outrageous.
And it wasn't the whole "three thousand years ago Methos was the boogeyman" thing that bothered Joe, but rather that Methos didn't trust him when Kronos came for him. Weren't they friends? Didn't Methos know Joe well enough to understand that he wouldn't throw him under the bus for his past misdeeds?
Obviously, Methos didn't know that.
As for Duncan, Joe suspected that deep down that was what had been really bothering Duncan too since he never made a big deal out of Darius's warlording past. Duncan wasn't naive enough to think that Darius the Gothic general didn't have pleasure in killing. Perhaps with Duncan it was also that he wanted Methos to confess his past to him for absolution. Although after Methos turned on Kronos, Joe believed Duncan forgave him. Not that he could confirm that now. Joe gripped the steering wheel tightly as his vision blurred.
Don't think about it!
But at the moment there were bigger things to worry about than Joe's irritation at not being trusted.
Like a several thousand year old evil Immortal who right now was dead-set on killing Methos.
"Old Man," Joe said tensely. "You have any idea where to go? What to do?"
Methos's shadowed face scrunched up and Joe knew he had to keep talking or Methos would keep crying. If a crying woman made Joe feel awkward, Methos sobbing left him feeling completely uneasy.
"ὁ ἥλιος ἐπιδυέτω" Methos muttered before Joe could say anything.
Oh no. If Methos wasn't even bothering to speak the right language, if he was so far gone he was going to start talking in ancient probably dead tongues, then Joe needed to knock some sense into him pronto.
"English Methos," Joe snapped, not wanting to get angry at Methos right now but needing the ruthless coldly efficient ancient Immortal, not the grieving young man. It was cruel but it was necessary because it wasn't just Methos who didn't want to die but Joe too. 48 was too young to die in his humble opinion. He was under no illusions—Kronos would probably be targetting him too because even though Joe never locked eyes with the man there was no way Kronos would have missed Joe shooting Cassandra in the back and leading Methos away.
Methos took several deep breaths, clenching his fists. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed out something that Joe couldn't understand. It was like no language he had ever heard—breathy and light, musical even. The mask of Adam Pierson was completely absent and the ancient man who looked young but really wasn't seemed to be pleading or begging or perhaps...perhaps saying goodbye.
Then with a sudden snap, like a door slamming shut, Methos's eyes sprang open, not red with tears and youthful and vulnerable, but cold hard green flints of ice that sent a shiver down Joe's spine. The change was as dramatic as if he had suddenly shape-shifted. It was jarring and unnatural.
Methos had never before looked so dangerous.
"Kronos is going to hunt me," he said in a low voice, instead of answering Joe's question.
"That's rather obvious," Joe decided that the only way to deal with this situation was to approach Methos as he always had and not react to what felt like the Old Man putting on heavy armour and loading himself up with weapons. On Adam Pierson that would have been as ridiculous as a child putting on chainmail and trying to hold a sword. On whoever Methos was becoming it felt almost unnecessary. But, frankly, with Kronos gunning for him, the ancient Immortal was going to need a lot of weapons and armour.
"It's personal. He doesn't want to simply kill me," Methos explained, speaking slowly as if he was mentally feeling it out. It felt like he wasn't even talking to Joe. "He wants to destroy me."
"Unless I destroy him first."
