MAD MAD MAD DISCLAIMAH! I do not own any characters in this thingamabobber. I own exactly dick, as a matter of fact. Oh wait...here's a couple dog biscuits. Never mind. I take no responsibility for this being crappy. I never claimed to be good at writing. HOWEVER.....I would like to thank Amanda since it is due to her loving efforts that I am still under the pleasant illusion that I CAN write, and therefore show my face around here. This story is rated PG for some violent violence. PG. Your kids can read it. PG. Pokemon Granger. "'ello! Todai we're 'unting the woyld Pikatchew! Oh'm gonna foynd 'im, and then jyeam moy thomb up 'is butt'ole! That'll reeaaaally piss 'im o-*" PIKACHU!!! "Ahhh....help!" On with the story.
"Rise and shine," he said, "Tell me why were you following me?" I grip the chains again in anticipation of the blow. It doesn't come. Methos's tone had changed now. It had become reasonable. He asked the question as if we were in the forum, or at the market.
"Why were you following me?"
He won't destroy me. I know his secret, and if I know his secret then maybe he thinks others know it too. That would keep me alive. The blow comes. It lands right between my shoulder blades where the whip had already cut red branches across my back, before. I scream. It is natural. I am getting used to screaming. I can even think clearly again. Screaming is merely a formality that accompanies a blow.
"I wanted to hunt Death," perhaps this answer will satisfy him for a while. Methos says nothing. That frightens me, but he does nothing. I live through another lie.
"Let's not lie to each other, after all, we are old friends! I know your name Menes..." Heleans close to my face so that the eye he has left me may stare into both of his. "..And you know mine."
"Methos..." I whisper, the awe of the name forcing its way past my lips.
"Yes. And I find myself wondering how you could possibly have come across this information. I am not who I appear to be, Menes. You have found that out. And I know you are not who you appear to be. So, let us share secrets....why were you following me?" I cannot not tell him. I will hold my oath to my grave. But pain has a way of enforcing truth. And Methos owns me now, in this cave. So I give him a truth.
"I cannot tell you." Methos seems to digest that information for a while, tracing my open wounds with his finger. The caress is gentle, but it burns.
"Tell me Menes, you seem a man of few adornments. What is this, then?" He grips my left wrist. It hurt for I'd been hanging on it for three, perhaps four days. I can't tell anymore.
"Nothing." There were things I could not, and would not tell Methos. I wait for a blow to land.
"It is a futile fight....gone on too long. It is the same old song that goes on and on forever. I ask you a question, you give me no answer or a false one. Now how long do you expect any reasonable man to tolerate this?" He is right. I cannot resist him forwever. My will is weak. Perhaps I can die. There is a disturbance at the entrance. I hear the voice of Pestilence calling.
"Well, obviously I must be going, Menes. It has been an unpleasant conversation I must say. In any case, I find this fascinating. I think I'll take it with me." The razor bites deep into my wrist. I inhale in order to scream loud and long. All the skin is removed, leaving a raw bleeding patch which makes itself known to me in the form of unbearable pain. My eye has no lid anymore, so I can still see Methos as he places my skin on the pendant around his neck with the tattoo still visible.
"Perhaps I'll see some more of your friends. Someday." Methos turns and takes up a bruning splint. I think, I hope, that perhaps he is to cauterize me again- to keep me alive, as he has done in the past few days. Instead he throws the splint into the straw right below me. He turns his back and I hear him mount his horse outside. As the straw and wood below me catches, I again inhale to scream loud and long. I smile. This is the last time I will have to do it. I have won.
* * *
"I'm sorry, Methos I can't take the cuffs off." Methos winced again at the use of his real name.
"Look David, Do you really think I'm going to run away? We're in the middle of the bloody rainforest! Where am I going to go?! I thought we had gotten to know each other a little better than this."
"Methos, it's not that I don't like you, but I can't just let you go. You have to come back with me so I can file a report with the Watchers."
"Why?"
"Why? Well look at you! Methos, you're the worlds oldest man! And when the Tribunal finds out you've been Adam Pierson all this time..."
"...They kill me," Methos spat. He wasn't playing the emotion game this time. He really was angry that David could not understand why he couldn't be anymore revealed than he already was.
"No, they WON'T. Methos, I've seen to that. You know so much about us! Don't you think we could know a little about you?"
"I don't want anyone to know ANYTHING about me. That's why I'm the world's oldest man."
"What about all the things you told MacLeod? What about all the things you told me? About Death? About the monastaries? About all the things you've seen? Don't you want to share these?"
"I don't have all the wisdom of the ages, all right? These are just things I've been through, that's all." David stopped marching through the mud for a moment. He turned and tried to focus into Methos's eyes which were darting around avoiding his.
"Methos, I don't believe you would have told me all of these things about yourself, if you didn't want, deep down inside, to tell everyone. To let the world know who you are, what you've been. I think you want to help everyone with your knowledge." Methos snorted at this, then gazed at the young Watcher.
"Now how do you know what I want deep down inside?"
"Because I can understand you Methos. I've researched you for years, and I know more about you than almost anyone, and I can understand." Methos snorted barely audibly.
"I'll bet you do."
"You look at yourself a lot, Methos. You ask yourself, 'Am I ever gonna change?' Or 'Am I too old to start anew?' Well you can! You'll be famous. We'll take care of you, Methos. I can't help but feel that we've become friends through this ordeal. And I can help you, just like you can help me!"
Methos vomited. With all the nasty things they'd been eating on the trail, it only took a statement like that to drive him to violent regurgitation. The Watcher didn't notice the cause, however.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm fine, David. Listen, I would like to think you're a friend too. Why don't you let me out of these cuffs. If you're my friend, you'll understand why I can't be found out. Don't you see what this would do?!"
"I know you're worried, but this is important to me. I've spent years looking for you, Methos. You are the find of the century! I hope you can understand someday."
"So that's it then. You'll haul me in. That's what you're going to do."
"Yes."
"Well then."
Methos opened the latch of the cuffs he'd picked days ago. Faster than David could comprehend, the ancient pointed and fired. The red circle exploded between the Watcher's eyes. And he fell to the ground. Methos closed his eyes, wondering if he ever would change.
Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear Death whispering.
Who cares?