Shomeret is returning to her roots in ST:TOS. This was my first fandom in the seventies. I wrote my first fanfic for printed Trek zines. (Yes Virginia, there was fanfic before the net.) So this story represents a trip down memory lane. It's also a response to the Crossover Lyric Wheel. They lyrics kindly provided by Siva can be found at the end of the story.
Disclaimers: Methos, Duncan MacLeod, Gregor Powers and Cassandra belong to DPP. Sarek, Amanda,T'Lar and Spock belong to Paramount. Jasper Dawson is my OC.
Rating: This story is PG-13 slash. The m/m relationships in this story are not portrayed explicitly.
SEEKING SANCTUARY
by
Shomeret
"Yet logic can also disguise truth from us."
VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
by Peter Tremayne
It wasn't a shock to learn that Amanda had died.Ambassador Sarek's human wife had reached the age of a hundred and twenty-five with all of her considerable dignity intact. This was an accomplishment. Terrans still rarely reached 150 even with the advanced techniques of 24th century medicine. Yet Methos missed Amanda. She had been the only friend he had on the planet Vulcan once.
Methos had left behind his position as an instructor at Starfleet Academy, and his perennial relationship with Duncan MacLeod some forty years ago. The Highlander was a fever in his blood. He could stay away for a few years, but then word of that immortal boyscout would reach him through one of their mutual friends, and he'd be drawn inexorably into the MacLeod orbit once more like some wayward moon. A blazingly passionate reconciliation would ensue resembling a romantic daydream until the inevitable altercation shattered the idyll into jagged shards with words that could wound as deeply as swords. It was if the fairy tale looking glass that had led to Wonderland had been smashed, and the magic between them was gone. Of course it didn't take much cogitation to realize that a cynic and an idealist were never meant for eternal bliss, yet Duncan's ferocity during their last break-up had shaken Methos to the core.
The oldest living beer guzzler in the galaxy had gone out with young Jasper Dawson to celebrate his acceptance into Starfleet Academy. Methos had expected Duncan to accompany them, but in keeping with the Highlander's habitual boyscout behavior, he had taken an obligatory challenge on behalf of a nearly newborn immortal who wasn't yet ready to face another of their kind in combat. If only MacLeod had been with them. Maybe then the tragedy would never have happened.
Methos had enjoyed Jasper's company. He'd admired the boy's keen wit and his quirky comic delivery. The story of Jasper's first failed attempt to become a Starfleet cadet had been particularly amusing. Methos now realized with hindsight that he'd deliberately prolonged the evening in the hope that Duncan would eventually join them, and that he'd definitely had too many beers. Since transporters were currently reserved for Starfleet official business, Methos had taken his personal hovercraft. The vehicle was on autopilot, but Methos still had to input a flight plan and destination coordinates. When they found themselves rapidly spiraling into an unexpected descent, Methos knew that his navigational data had been seriously flawed. It was the old man's last thought before he died.
When he revived Methos considered himself forturnate that ER physician on duty was MacLeod's good friend, Gregor Powers. His fellow immortal had discreetly erased all records of Methos' presence in the hospital as a DOA corpse, but he had also sent a message to Duncan about the fate of Methos' mortal companion. Jasper Dawson would never attend Starfleet Academy. He hadn't even reached his nineteeth birthday.
"Damn it, Methos! How the hell did it happen?" MacLeod demanded without preamble when Methos staggered through the doorway of their San Francisco apartment still a bit disoriented by the hovercraft disaster.
Well, he hadn't expected tea and sympathy, but it would have been nice to have been able to catch his breath before launching into an account of the entire sorry mess.
"You were drunk!" MacLeod responded accusingly when Methos had finished.
"So you expect me to wallow in guilt? How would that accomplish anything? It was an accident, Mac, an accident plain and simple," said Methos wearily.
"You go face his parents and tell it was just an accident. Go to Joe Dawson's grave and tell him how sorry you are that you murdered his descendant while you were drunk!"
"Oh fine!" said Methos throwing up his hands. "So Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod wants to go on a rampage because a mortal that he considered under his protection got himself killed. Jasper knew I was drunk. I didn't force him to get into that hovercraft with me. And he was drunk too. Maybe, just maybe, his judgment was also impaired," Methos argued defensively.
"Don't you dare try to justify your actions!"
"I'm tired, Mac. I need sleep. Nothing I do or say can change what happened. Just leave me alone," Methos said heading for bed as he mentally planned a hasty departure.
In a towering fury, MacLeod lunged at Methos, spun him around forcibly and drew his sword. There was a glint of savagery in the Highlander's eyes that Methos recognized all too well. He'd seen and experienced the shadow side of Duncan MacLeod on many occasions. Methos blanched with terror as he felt MacLeod's blade prick his throat. Then the moment of madness passed, and MacLeod re-sheathed his sword.
"You make me sick!" MacLeod declared, turning his face away from the man who had been his lover for the last ten years. "Go, Methos. Go now or I swear I'll take your head!"
Methos decided that night as he'd tossed and turned in an unfamiliar hotel room bed that he'd never go back. MacLeod was not his destiny. His heart had played him false. The Highlander's threat still rang in his ears. Next time MacLeod might make good on that threat.Survival had to come first. The hunger for that immortal Scotsman was like a cancer consuming his cells. It had to be surgically removed before it destroyed him.
The following day Methos scanned a news story about the first Terran to achieve a Vulcan state of enlightenment called Kolinahr that eliminated all emotional attachments. On the vidscreen in the news kiosk a holopic of Cassandra in Vulcan robes stared back at him. She now resided in the sanctuary for Kolinahr Priestesses at Gol on Vulcan, and was known as T'Cassia. Methos had attempted Buddhist enlightenment a number of times with varying degrees of success, but maybe the Vulcans knew some secret if their discipline had produced such a miraculous change in Cassandra. Methos remembered her rage as she'd stood over him with Silas' axe raised over his head while MacLeod begged for his life. It she truly had put the past behind her through Kolinahr, then so might he.
Methos buried himself in Kolinahr research for months locating even the most obscure treatises on the subject by Vulcan philosophers. Armed with this knowledge, he booked passage for Vulcan.
Senior Kolinahr Priestess T'Lar requested surface contact with Methos' mind in order to determine whether he had any telepathic gifts.
"Thy thoughts are safe. I would not violate thy privacy without thy permission."
Methos agreed with some trepidations, and knelt before the Vulcan Matriarch. Sbe pressed her hands to his temples for what seemed only a few seconds, and shook her head.
"There is no telepathic potential within thy mind. Thou art like most of thy race. Thou hast no place at Gol."
"No place?" Methos asked unable to conceal his disappointment.
"I discovered that T'Cassia is a strong telepath whose abilities only needed to be unlocked. That is why I was willing to consider as a candidate for Kolinahr. Without being able to match mental resonances with they teacher, thy task will be more difficult," T'Lar explained.
"But not impossible," Methos pointed out. "What logic is there in not permitting me to try?"
So T'Lar relented, and assigned the human T'Cassia as her fellow human's instructor.
Cassandra raised an astonished eyebrow in the Vulcan manner when the man who had enslaved her and been her nemesis for milennia walked into her chamber garbed in a Vulcan robe. He inclined his head respectfully, and greeted Cassandra with all the deference due to her as a master of the Kolinahr discipline.
"So you come here to my sanctuary to seek the wisdom of Kolinahr? Why do you seek it?" Cassandra queried. "I warn you that I will demand total honesty from you. I will know if you lie."
"I seek clarity. I wish to put the past behind me, just as you did, Cassandra. Why else? Tell me, do you maintain your sword skills?" Methos asked a bit snidely.
"I have no need to do so," said Cassandra dismissively. "This is holy ground. I carry no sword."
"But I do!" Methos said with feigned fierceness as he drew his sword from within the voluminous folds of his robe.
"You will put that away. What is your purpose in displaying that weapon?" Cassandra returned with a calmness that would have been uncharacteristic of her former self.
"Perhaps I didn't truly believe that you had mastered Kolinahr," Methos answered softly as he stowed his sword inside its hidden sheath. "The Cassandra I once knew would have been incapable of it."
"And now you know otherwise," Cassandra said nodding with satisfaction. "I am no longer Cassandra. You may address me as T'Cassia."
So began the lengthy process of Kolinahr training. Cassandra drove Methos mercilessly. She refused to accept anything that was not his best effort and was continually testing his limits. Methos did many hours of both focused and unfocused meditation inside the sanctuary, and in desert isolation. He was restricted to a Vulcan vegetarian diet at first. Later Cassandra insisted that Methos would advance further on the path of Kolinahr if he fasted for long periods. Yet in the end he failed.
After ten years of ceaseless mental and physical exertions Cassandra finally required that Methos open his mind to her completely. This in itself was not easy. Intellectually, Methos knew that Cassandra no longer sought his death, yet his continued attachment to the past manifested as a residue of suspicion toward her. It took a tremendous act of will to lower his mental barriers and allow Cassandra free access to every level of his mind.
Cassandra remained in rapport with Methos for some time. She inventoried his every thought--even the most private ones. Methos shuddered when she uncovered his true feelings for Duncan MacLeod within the deepest recesses of his mind.
"You will never master Kolinahr," Cassandra told him bluntly when she emerged from the telepathic rapport between them. "Your path lies elsewhere."
"So I am at last revealed as your inferior, T'Cassia," Methos said bitterly.
"Not inferior, only different. The peace of Kolinahr is not for you," Cassandra declared.
"Kaiidth," said Methos exhibiting his familiarity with the Vulcan concept of mastery of the inevitable, and bowed his head in acceptance. Then he retrieved his few possessions and left Gol bereft of hope. If Vulcan Kolinahr could not rid him of his self-destructive attachment to Duncan MacLeod, then nothing could.
When Methos attempted to leave Vulcan he found that his departure was delayed by ion storms. The long deceased Joe Dawson would have had a name for Methos' mood while he sat in the spaceport departure lounge with other stranded passengers. Joe would have called it a "blue funk". It was just the right mood for the blues. The image of Joe summoning powerful music from his guitar like a true sorcerer while Methos stared into space like a man under his spell surfaced within his memory. A single tear slid down his features. Methos brushed it away impatiently, then looked up to see a Vulcan man waiting politely for Methos to acknowledge his presence.
"You are the Terran Joseph Noah?" the Vulcan inquired.
Methos nodded. This was indeed the name that he had adopted when he had departed Earth for Vulcan hoping to start a new life. The first name was a tribute to Joe. The surname indicated that Methos was a survivor of a flood. In his current mental state Methos didn't know if he would survive the torrent of emotions which inundated him, but survival was always his aspiration.
The Vulcan asked Methos to follow him and led him to a transporter pad. When his molecules reassembled Methos found himself in an elegant private residence. The human woman who met him when he stepped down from the transporter, greeted him with a disarming smile.
"Good evening, Mr. Noah. I am Amanda, the wife of Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan. The Kolinahr Priestess T'Lar requested that I speak with you. She thought that you might find such a conversation helpful."
"Helpful?" Methos said bursting out with a humorless laugh. "I sincerely doubt that, Mrs. Sarek. You may thank T'Lar for her efforts, but I am quite beyond help."
"No one alive is beyond help," said Amanda in a reassuring tone. "Please allow me to help you, and call me Amanda."
She suggested that they adjourn to the garden, and served him a soothing herbal tea in the gazebo that reminded Methos of Darius' concotions. Dear gentle Darius! If the immortal monk had still been among the living, Methos would never have come to Vulcan.
When he'd finished his tea the ancient immortal looked around himself with delight. He inhaled the perfumes of hundreds of flowering plants which Amanda had imported to arrid Vulcan. This lush Earthly paradise was maintained in an artificial environment at tremendous expense, but Sarek would never deny his wife anything that would make her happy.
"Lady Amanda," Methos said with incredulous joy. "I have been on Vulcan for ten years, and I didn't realize until this moment that I've been homesick."
"Most Terrans who live on Vulcan do become homesick on occasion. This garden is my favorite remedy for homesickness. Come, let us enjoy it together."
They wandered down the garden's paths as Amanda pointed out particular plants and the memories of Earth that they invoked. "And this one, the lilac, is the one that Sarek gave me when he asked me to marry him," she sadi giggling girlishly, reminding Methos of another Amanda who Methos hadn't seen in some time.
"I knew an Amanda once. She was fond of red roses," Methos commented.
"Did you like her, Mr. Noah?"
"Call me Joseph. Sometimes she could be annoying, extremely annoying in fact, but yes I did like her, Lady Amanda. I liked her very much. I actually miss her now."
"You're a man who is capable of caring very deeply, aren't you, Joseph?"
The animated expression on the old man's features became shuttered. Methos had always swathed himself in mystery. It was far easier tnan being vulnerable.
"I am a man who guards his secrets closely," he said brusquely.
"Believe me, I understand. How could I not? My husband is both a diplomat and a Vulcan. I am accustomed to secrets. My son kept a secret of enormous personal importance for many years. No doubt you've heard of my son."
"Who hasn't? Your son is legend, Lady Amanda," Methos said with a shrug, wondering where this conversation was headed.
"So I've heard," she said beaming with parental pride before she added, "It isn't well known, but Spock sought Kolinahr once."
"Oh did he?" Methos said with pretended indifference.
"He also failed to attain Kolinahr, Joseph, and do you know why he was unable to master it?" Methos shook his head. "Because he had deep feelings for another man who he wanted as his mate."
"And no doubt you are about to tell me that Spock and this other man now live happily ever after, Lady Amanda. Happily ever after isn't always possible," Methos told her mordantly.
"Do you enjoy being so cynical, Joseph?"
"Sometimes I do, but I admit that this isn't one of those times. Don't you think I want to live happily ever after, Lady Amanda?" Methos said in a harsh tone. "I'd give anything for an easy uncomplicated life without a care for tomorrow, and Duncan MacLeod in my arms," he ended in a whisper.
"If the Kolinahr training couldn't eradicate this Duncan MacLeod from your mind, then surely there must be..."
"The last time we saw one another, he threatened to kill me," Methos said turning away from her abruptly. "So you see it's all quite impossible."
"I'm so sorry," she said with sincere simplicity. "Shall we take our minds off such dire difficulties?"
"Oh, lets," said Methos but his smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Let's dance," Amanda suggested gaily and began to hum 'The Tennessee Waltz' recalling a recent occasion when she had visited Spock and his t'hy'la on Earth, and they had danced to that same melody amid the marigolds, wisterias and peach blossoms.
Methos got caught up in her enthusiasm, and began to hum along, waltzing with her on the garden paths and the wide white steps that ascended to the gazebo. They halted then with his hand still encircling her waist.
"Tell me, would your husband approve of your dancing with strange Terrans?" Methos asked mischevously.
"My husband is on a diplomatic mission, and he expects me to assist Terrans on Vulcan," Amanda responded with a merry twinkle in her eyes.
"Oh, you've definitely assisted me, Lady Amanda."
Thirty years later the gazeba at the center of Amanda's Terran garden seemed to whisper with sounds so familiar. It reverberated with the echoes of all the conversations he'd had with Amanda, and with their laughter after that giddy waltz that had gladdened their first meeting. Apparently, gladdening the heart was the way of both Amandas who had been in the life of the ancient immortal.
Sarek had assured Methos that the garden would be maintained just as it had been while Amanda was alive. It was a shrine to his departed mate. Methos caught himself wondering if Sarek could feel her ghost wandering down the garden paths as he did. He thought he could actually see an image of her dancing in the garden. "Are you there, Lady Amanda? Are you there?" Methos asked himself, flushing with embarassment when he realized tha the had actually spoken aloud. He muttered an apology to Ambassador Sarek.
Amanda's passing seemed to have visibly aged the formidable diplomat. It was a reminder that Vulcans too were mortal. The day would come when Methos might be the only being alive who remembered the Lady Amanda.
"I carry her katra, her living spirit, Joseph," said Sarek. "She is with me always. It does not astonish me that you should feel her presence in this place. She was most at peace here."
"I saw her dancing, Ambassador," Methos marvelled. "Perhaps it is memory held within the garden. She and I did dance here once."
Sarek's Vulcan attache entered the garden with a deferential bow, and announced the arrival of another guest. The new Starfleet liaison to Vulcan had heard that Sarek had lost his wife and wished to pay his respects. Methos felt the buzz that signalled the presence of another immortal and poised himself for flight.
"Vice Admiral Duncan MacLeod," said the newcomer. "Starfleet extends its deepest sympathies on the death of your wife, Ambassador."
The magnetic current of their shared quickenings that had inextricably linked these two immortals, locked their gazes together. They couldn't help themselves then or ever. Methos knew that his bond with Duncan MacLeod was inescapable, and he no longer wanted to escape it.
"This is Joseph Noah, Vice Admiral, a historian who has stayed on Vulcan for many years, and was a good friend of my wife's," said Sarek adhering to formal protocol. "Mr. Noah, you were saying that you had danced with Amanda in this very garden."
"Then perhaps we should dance in her memory," said MacLeod impulsively, hoping that he hadn't scandalized Sarek. His eyes were still warmed by the glow in the eldest immortal's features. He wanted nothing more than to close the distance between them.
A smile twitched at the corner of Sarek's mouth. "By all means, Vice Admiral," he said graciously.
Sarek was no fool, and he hadn't as the Terrans said "been born yesterday". His guests obviously had a history. He withdrew in order to allow them more privacy for their reunion.
MacLeod's eyes spoke an apology, while Methos silently warned against promises that neither of them could keep. They would take life moment by moment.
"May I have this dance. Mr. Noah?" said MacLeod taking those slim elegant finters in his own, and raising them to his lips.
"Yes! Oh yes!" said Methos.
FINIS
Here are the lyrics that Siva sent:
Darkening of the Light
by Concrete Blonde
Like a ghost-is the curtain
in the white light of the morning-
dancing in the morning
are you there-are you there?
and a shadow like a sadness
falling all across the garden
dancing in the garden
are you there, are you there?
Shine on friend. Goodnight
Why then the darkening of the light
and the leaves at my feet
whisper sounds so familiar
whisper so familiar
are you there? are you there?
(Chorus)
where the clouds pull apart
and the moon changes faces
in the quiet secret places
are you there? are you there?
Author's Note: K/S fans will notice that this story is actually based on a formula from K/S. This is intended affectionately.
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