Toll wakes me by a knock on the door.
I've got this lingering feeling of having had a dream, but no memory what of. I rarely remember dreaming at all. Unless it's nightmares, and I don't get nightmares in the middle of a mess. They always come after, or sometimes before, like warnings.
I push that thought aside and make use of the bathroom before going out to the sitting area for breakfast. The quick shower and clean clothes certainly make me feel more ready for whatever is to come.
Coffee juice and warm bread, with a selection of jam cheese and sausages, a far sturdier breakfast than I usually eat.
We watch the world news after a long breakfast, nothing special has happened.
Toll is comfortable company, letting me sit and think without disturbing. Even quietly offering a notebook and pencils, that I gratefully accept.
What do I really know about Adam Pierson?
Since he was recruited for his competence, not because of contact with an Immortal the background checks were rigorous. How the hell did he manage to get through those? The Watchers ^knows ^ how to check for an Immortal background.
No matter how I turn things over in my mind, the conclusion is that he was aware of the Watchers before, and consciously got himself recruited.
To find Methos? To make sure no one finds ^him^? Both are plausible.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
We go in for the landing and I'm politely asked to put on the blindfold again. I do without a fuss, saving my energy for the real challenge ahead.
We disembark by elevator again, at least three more people on it.
I'm seated in another car, no one speaks except Toll. "I am afraid this will take at least an hour, Monsieur Dawson, depending on traffic."
He's back to the more formal pattern of speech. I don't actually mind, the polite formality helps. Makes me feel less trapped somehow. Has he done this so many times that he knows that? I don't know if that's a comforting or frightening thought.
Most of the trip is made on a highway. The last part on a pretty badly cared for road, not gravel, no other traffic either that last bit.
Of course, I've no idea what time of the day it's here. But say a 10-to-12-hour flight, that would be around 1 PM home... that's 9 PM London time, then add another hour for France, the most likely destination. To me it's still morning, I hate jetlag. But this means there should not be much traffic.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
The car finally comes to a stop after a very short smooth path, I think inside a garage.
"We are here now, Monsieur Dawson." Toll says and gets out before me.
He helps me out, handing me the cane. Leading me on the left side, he's more tensed than he has been so far. No one else is getting out of the car.
We are indoors, concrete floor, high ceiling, not much interior. One of those empty warehouses all Immortals seems to collect?
I'm lead through a door, and over to the right. Definitely a furnished room and more ordinary height of the ceiling, stone floor? Possibly tiles. No echo, so either a small space or textiles to catch the sound.
"Monsieur Dawson, will you please take a seat?" Toll guides my hand to an armrest.
Usually, I rather stand when meeting someone, but with the blindfold I might've difficulties keeping my balance, so I take the seat.
Toll is staying close until I'm seated. "I will leave now Monsieur Dawson." He informs me, very formally.
"Thank you Toll." I'm truly grateful he has been so professional without being cold.
It's suddenly very real when I hear him leave the room, closing the door behind him. I vaguely hear a car door close and it leaves.
"Novel toi aussi." Adam's voice... yet not.
I know a tone of command when I hear it. The Adam I knew would've, could've, never given an order with such cool confidence and absolute assumption that it'll be obeyed.
A slight shiver down my spine at this final proof that 'Adam' is not the boy I thought I knew.
I try to translate the French. New you too? Novel, it means new. Oh, a name! "Nouvel, you too." I realize about the same time as another door closes behind someone. It should be about the opposite of the one I came in through.
"You can remove the blindfold now if you want Joe. I hope Toll has taken good care of you?" This is Adam's voice, even that slightly nervous tone is there, the one he has when he's worried that I'll yell at him for something.
I remove the blindfold, almost surprised my hands are not shaking. Then I search the room for Him.
The same lanky boy as always. How we've tried to make him dress in something better than those old sweaters! He's leaning against a wall by that other door, looking at me with a worried frown. Meeting my eyes straight on, that's not what Adam would do. Eyes are guarded but not directly unfriendly or threatening.
"He was very professional, clear without being unfriendly." I tell him.
A smirk, same as Adam's but larger and not hidden at all, not hiding his mirth. "Mobster background is good for that, haven't you read The Godfather?"
"I saw the movie." Is it a book? I had no idea.
"You get the gist then. It was pretty good actually, rarely does written drama translate that well to preformed." He smiles turning around. "I assume it's too early for you to want a beer.
I also have orange juice, coffee, tea, and water still or sparkling?" He grins at me from the kitchen in the left corner, with a dining table closer to the door I came through.
I wouldn't mind more coffee." I tell him honestly.
He nods and turns to make it, after opening a beer for himself.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
I take the time to look about the room, it's very different from the down-to-earth, unadorned elegance of the plane, again I wonder if it's his or borrowed.
A square room with white walls, to the right a sitting group in front of a fireplace.
On the wall behind me, which should be out to the garage/warehouse, are several vaulted windows with decorative blacksmith bars and closed blinds behind them. Those are the only windows in the room.
The vaulted double door opposite of the one I came through could be considered windows. They're made of detailed stained-glass panels, with extra panels on the sides. It's dark behind, so no idea what's there.
Everything in the room is in Arabic, or possibly North African, style. Turquoise mosaics and geometric patterns in gold or black. With pillows and blankets in beige and brown. Under the rattan sitting group there's a large Persian mat in similar colors. A fireplace with brass grate.
On the wall to my right is a large painting, a camel caravan along a beach. The blue-green ocean and beige sand picking up the colors of the room. I notice the men leading the caravan are not wearing white, they are dressed in the same color as the camels are painted.
To the left a kitchen. With white and blue tiles a dark wooden counter top and brass details, it's keeping in style with the rest, and was probably state of the art 10-to-15 years ago.
A dining area next to the kitchen, by the door I came through. Dark wooden furniture, with turquoise seats and brass details.
The feeling of a welcoming desert home is topped by dark brown wooden beams.
O ~ O ~ O ~ O ~ O
Adam has put on coffee while I was looking around and is now watching me, leaning at the sink drinking beer. I feel a little awkward, having no idea... of anything.
What level of threat? ^Who^ am I talking to?
Adam raises an eyebrow at me, nothing of the shyness I'm used to there, only an amused curiosity. "I'm an expert at rolling with the punches. Kalas coming my way after what happened to Don I was sort of expecting. But I have to confess, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod walking in my home, looking for ^me^, was a shock.
Care to explain how an Immortal got a Watchers home address without resorting to torture?"
I don't exactly feel threatened, but I'm not stupid. Adam was an act and Immortals are dangerous, they don't live for long if they aren't. I already knew he was going to ask about that.
I ^hadn't^ considered that he would've been expecting Kalas, probably should have.
"They were about to let you be taken by Kalas. There was a decision made to keep a guard on him, someone that would follow Kalas and call for backup when he had gotten you to a remote place. Apparently you didn't have any information that they were afraid to let Kalas get his hands on. The guard would then wait for backup and they were to take Kalas head."
He hasn't moved a muscle. Nothing to give me the slightest hint of what he's thinking, just that cool curiosity.
"I was too late getting hold of Don, and couldn't use Watcher resources, your phone was already tapped. I sure as Hell was not going to let them sacrifice anyone else! So I did the only thing I could think of, I sent Duncan to protect you."
Still no reaction, just looking at me.
"It wasn't more interference to send Duncan than it would've been for us to kill Kalas! I couldn't let you be sacrificed like that, damn it! Duncan wanted Kalas, I wanted no more collateral damage... I'm sorry, I had no idea you were Immortal. Watchers are not ^supposed^ to be!"
I run out of steam, he still hasn't moved an inch. I just look back wondering what more he wants.
"You told Duncan you were going to come to Paris. Why?" The calm, almost serene, man asks. Still not moving.
^My^ phone was also tapped, by ^him^! I forgot about that. What do I say now?
"I.." Oh, what the Hell. The truth is probably a good start. ^I^ can usually catch when someone lies to me, assuming he hasn't spent his entire life in a library so should he be able to too. "I figured the Adam Pierson I knew would hide in the library hoping no one would see him. That I needed to go to Paris and fix the mess I made."
I look at the man. "You do understand what will happen if they figure out that there is an Immortal in the Watchers ^now^?"
A cynical smile. "Yes, I have a pretty good idea. But Joe, why would you care?" He's still watching me with that cool, slightly amused but distant, curiosity.
"Why?.." Why would I protect an Immortal within the Watchers? Why ^him^? Or why care?
"It was a gut reaction to try to fix my mess. I usually trust my gut. I had the flight here to think about that. I know you're not the Adam I knew. I don't think you're a Headhunter. A combination of gut feeling, the fact that challenges the last decade has fallen overall, and that older Immortals tend to either hunt compulsively or avoid Challenges.
Duncan thinks you are Methos. I know he usually knows if another Immortal is older or younger than him. So I assume you are older than him and likely in the 'old Immortal' category.
I'm sorry I destroyed your cover, I won't be responsible for letting the Watchers kill you."
"So you wanted to fix the mess you created inadvertently, and make sure the Watchers didn't get further of the reservation by killing me?" He asks seriously, before turning back to the coffee brewer.
He continues, bringing me a large mug of coffee, with more milk than I usually take. "I think I like your gut. I like your priorities, they coincide well with mine. Thank you, Joe."
I think I managed to surprise him. A slight chucking grin suggests he's not angry, at least, when he holds out the mug for me.
I take it, quite grateful I can sip it and get a moment to think about that reaction before answering, it's stronger than I'm used to the extra milk sits very well.
"So, can I go back to work or will you out me?" He asks studying me with intense eyes and a deceptively relaxed smile.
Back? He wants to stay within the Watchers... "Why would you want to stay?" Fuck! Bad question, I need to get my mouth under control. "Not that I've anything against it, really! But I'm not about to let you hunt from within the Watchers either." Under control not worse, damn it! I better just stay silent, or I'm going to get myself killed.
"I've spent millennia making myself into a myth. Staying as far from The Game I could possibly manage. I try not to take a Quickening if it can be avoided, I'm pretty good at running. Damn it, I couldn't even take Kalas's head!
I wasn't sure about that actually, I'm pretty angry at him after all. But no, I couldn't bring myself to take his head." He shakes his head at himself, with a sour face.
Millennia to make himself into a myth? Methos... I probably should ask, but how the hell could he prove it, one way or the other?
Not interested in taking heads, it's consistent with older Immortals, they tend to go one or the other way in that. "Did you say you Challenged Kalas! What happened?" Damn it I need to get a grip!
"No." A little smirk. "He Challenged me."
A slight pause to build tension before he continues. "We fought. I couldn't make myself go on the offensive, so I took a dive and got out of there.
Found Duncan and made him promise to do it for me. That boy has no problems taking Quickenings of 'bad men'." He shrugs apparently unconcerned. "That habit will get him into trouble one day." He mutters almost too low for me to hear.
That sounds plausible, it's not like Darius didn't use Duncan the same way with Claudianus (Grayson). But... "Why call the police when he was about to do it then?"
A cynical smile. "Because it would feel awful if Duncan MacLeod lost. The reason Kalas was Hunting for me is that they are incredibly even in their fighting abilities, as well as the burn to win.
A decade or two behind bars will prevent Kalas from training, while Duncan is free to improve.
Also, some time without the luxuries Kalas has become accustomed to these last centuries will probably remove some of the glorified memories of his stay in the monastery. That might cool some of the anger he has.
In the meantime, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod is a Scott, he has no problems keeping fire in a grudge, for millennia if need be!"
I blink. That's a pretty elaborate scheme, or maybe not... Put him away and give it time, someone used to thinking in time frames of centuries, even millennia, probably has a different perspective on things like that.
But I keep coming around to "Because it would feel awful if Duncan MacLeod lost." Not just a sacrifice then.
He mentioned burn to win as equal to fighting abilities, I know a will to survive makes a difference, this shouldn't surprise me. "How long since you last took a head? Shouldn't you try to get some training? Eh... I mean what if Kalas had cornered you?"
The intense eyes catch me, holding me still while he considers the questions and me. "Last head? About two hundred years ago, give or take a decade.
I couldn't ^win^, that isn't the same as saying that I was losing. To win you need initiative, revenge wasn't enough for me. Hasn't been for a long time, in my experience nothing's ever got better from revenge.
It would've been unlikely, since we were at my home ground, but if Kalas had managed to corner me..." A deep breath and thoughtfully narrowed eyes. "That would've changed things, then it would have been about ^my survival^." A quick nod to reinforce the statement.
That's a difference I can believe in. I can shoot to kill, but won't do it unless there's no other choice. To know that about yourself changes things.
As interesting as I find this, we are off-topic. Oh, Hell I'll just bite the bullet. "So are you pretending to research yourself, or trying to find Methos?"
A laugh. I don't think I have ever heard Adam laugh out loud before. It fits on his face, the crinkles show that it's something he does frequently. Strange, that I have never seen that before, I wonder how many other things I've missed.
"Not as naïve as the young MacLeod then." He says, still laughing quietly.
"The young MacLeod?" I also have a hard time holding back a smile, at least he isn't offended.
"I could call the older MacLeod many unflattering things, but naïve isn't one of them."
The older? Connor! No naïve isn't a word I'd use either... "You know him?"
"I've read, at least, the synopsis of most Active Chronicles. It's not like I have to actually spend the time reading my own." A big grin. "Especially when so much of it consists of stolen diaries that I've written myself, to begin with."
That's... not an answer to my latest question, but it's one on the earlier one. Adam is Methos… I drink coffee trying to wrap my head around that fact.
Methos, more than 5000 years! What has he seen in that time? Any of the things that have made it to the history books? How much that ^hasn't^ made it, that he's the only one who knows?
I imagine he has done just about everything in that time. It's in his Chronicles that he has been a slave several times. He has also owned them when in a position to do so. Just like I assume he has been both servant and lord. That tone of command isn't something you learn without doing it.
The comment about revenge spoke of personal experience. Just as the one about ^his^ survival. If we don't come to some sort of agreement Toll will probably be the one to kill me. But he, Methos, also seems to be open to some negotiation.
He has already proven to be a world-class actor, but I have to make a decision based on something. Methos seemed to get along fine with my gut, perhaps I'll just trust that.
"So I go home and pretend Duncan never told me and when I come to Paris we have a couple of beers and talk a little. Of the books of course." I suggest, but then a worry surfaces. "But are you sure you want to stay within the Watchers at this time? Some will hunt you to the end of earth,if they find out."
Methos has moved over to the fridge, getting another beer with a familiarity that implies he's quite at home here. "I know to keep my head down. ^You^ are far more likely to get into trouble for being friendly with Duncan, Joe." He says without turning back to me.
He has a point, but why does he care? Oh, because selling him out ^would^ keep me alive for a while. "I wouldn't tell them even if they decide to shoot me!
I know an oath from me might not be top currency at this time." And damned if this situation doesn't make me regrets that more than anything else so far! "Please, Methos, I won't do that!"
"So you decided to believe me after all." He turns back to me casually.
"I have no 'wisdom of the ages' to offer, no great secrets of the 'meaning of life'." Meeting my eyes with a trace of Adams insecurity, sadness, and a glimmer of hope. "I'm not a hero, like your Duncan. No peacemaker, like Darius. Nor do I have any interest in running a Sanctuary, like Brother Paul.
I don't seek trouble. Actually,I prefer to get away from it if I can, running ingloriously like a rabbit if it helps. Basically, I'm a pretty ordinary human who has a little more experience than most."
Yeah, right! You don't stay alive for Five Fucking Millennia by being ordinary. Or do you? Running and staying under the radar... Nope! Not a chance! That only works so far, had he been 'only' 1000 I ^might^ have believed that. But pre-medieval times it was tough living. Several millennia of that makes for a pretty tough guy.
But I can see his point anyway, he doesn't want to be a guru or a mentor. Nor does he have, or seek, the almost compulsive habit of getting involved that Duncan has.
Still, he didn't decline the offer of beer for storytelling. I bet he's a good storyteller with that voice and cadence.
Methos eyes convey a calm gravity. "It isn't necessary to make that promise. But if you do I ^will^ take your word for it."
I'm stunned. "But.." I've no idea what to say.
"Does that promise include other Immortals?" He asks. "I agree that sending Duncan was no more interference than if the Watchers had killed Kalas.
Personally, I think it's a far better solution. This way Kalas Quickening won't be lost. Not that I care for his Quickening per se, but he holds a couple of Quickenings that doesn't deserve to be forgotten.
But you ^have^ told Duncan where to find Immortals he wants to kill before. And sooner or later Duncan's and my moral views will clash. Quite likely relatively violently." He waits calmly, giving me time to melt that.
That's a good question. It's also showing some of the cold unsentimental pragmatism I was sort of expecting to meet when being picked up like that.
I knew Adam could have that in theoretical discussions, I think I assumed Methos would have it in practice as well. So far he has been far more a normal person, not showing much of his millennia-long perspective. But he has still convinced me that he really is several thousand years old...
No his morals are not likely to mesh well with Duncan's.
If he worries that I'll tell Duncan where he is, it means he'll attempt to hide if they disagree, again hinting at a clear preference of not fighting Challenges.
"I won't be telling ^any^ Immortals where to find ^either^ of you." I'm not getting involved in ^that^ fight if I can help it.
Arguing with an 'Adam' unrestrained by his shyness..? I'll just be taking notes.