Disclaimers: Highlander belongs to Davis/Panzer Productions, Rysher Entertainment, and Gaumont Television. Any copyright infringements were not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Spoilers and Timing: There are spoilers for a scene in "Not to Be," "Timeless," "Methuselah's Gift," and "Through a Glass Darkly."

Summary: Methos reminisces over things lost and things to come after the conclusion of 'Not to Be.'

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I was young once. I'm pretty sure I was. I can't remember it very well. I can remember a face: a beautiful dark skinned woman. Whenever I think of her, I can feel some sort of bond with her, like the after-effect of a tender love, but every time I remember her the feeling is less and her image is faded even more.

I envy MacLeod that. I envy all of them, really. All of them can remember their origins, their homeland, their parents, their first loves. I have no idea where my homeland was. I don’t know if archeologists have discovered it after millennia of being buried in a grave of sand or dirt. I don’t even know the name. I remember writing about it a long time ago, but I have yet to find the journal, or the copy of the journal, that talks about it.

I don't know where exactly my homeland was located. It could have been the Fertile Crescent. It could have been Egypt. It could have been several other places. I've wondered where it is ever since I forgot its location around three thousand years ago, and I doubt I will find the answer any time soon.

Because of that, I haven't felt like I have a home in such a long time. Sure, I've had houses that I called my own and families that made the places special, in my memory and my journals. But they were always temporary. Even Seacouver, even when I'm in the company of my friends, Amanda, Joe, and Duncan, I still feel that way and know it's true. I will move on eventually, like I've always done before. And, someday, all that is left of Seacouver will be ruins covered by layers of dirt.

Sounds depressing, doesn’t it? Not to me. Sure, it makes me sad when old, strong civilizations fade away to nothing, but I'm used to it. I move on, somehow, keeping the memory of those places alive in my memories…or my journals. Sometimes, I have trouble moving on, and my friends or lovers help me through those times. MacLeod doesn't know how close I was to losing it before I met him and we became friends. I've never told him about Jillian, and I'm not sure I ever will; I love her just as much as I loved Alexa. If the Highlander hadn't entered my life, I doubt I'd be on the "good side" right now. He helped me move on, and whether he knows it or not, he and Joe Dawson have helped me get over Alexa's death, too.

Maybe if I had, our relationship would have been better. Maybe if I'd told him how much he was needed in this world, he wouldn't have played Liam O'Rourke's game so willingly. I'd almost lost a friend tonight because MacLeod though that he wasn't needed. I guess I should tell him soon, but I'm not sure I will. It's hard for me to talk about my own pain and suffering. I hide it under sarcasm and cynicism that no one realizes is a cover. I'm not sure if I should be thankful of that or if I should wish they would look beyond the insults.

I really should tell him. I have so few friends as it is. One day, Joe will die a mortal death, and I'll have even fewer friends. I won't let him feel like he isn't needed a second time. I don’t want to lose someone else, not so soon. I've already lost Darius, Jillian, Alexa, Silas, and Byron, all within the same decade. I'm not about to lose my closest friend.

The next time I think about that beautiful, dark-skinned, fading face, I think she is smiling at me.

THE END

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