Disclaimer: Duncan MacLeod, Joe Dawson and all other characters in the Highlander universe, plus the concepts of immortality belong to Panzer/Davis. This is fan fiction, written for fun. No harm intended.
A very warm thank you to Gypsy for sending me the lyric – they are at the end of the story – I originally wrote a gen story then Sethra (dropping you in it while I wave ) started to ask questions and hypothesize about what if....
So this is for you Sethra :))))))
Aren’t you sorry you asked? Adult (slash overtones) So please be warned, if this theme offends or you are under age, do not read.
Fears Cold Blade
By Tessa Rae.
Engrossed in the latest Antiques catalogue, Mac absently pushed his chair back and reached for one of his reference books off the shelf beside him. Groping for the small compact manual, which he normally kept there, he frowned as his hand encountered nothing and he glanced over in annoyance at his small select library. The shelf was bare except for two ornaments and he muttered a mild curse noting that someone had shifted all his volumes to the shelf below and arranged them in alphabetical order. “Bloody Methos,” he growled under his breath, his irritation giving way to begrudging pleasure at his friend’s perverse sense of humor, knowing that Methos had done the rearrangement deliberately to exasperate him. And it had worked for all of about two seconds, he acknowledged silently, before he felt reassured in knowing that such a small prank could amuse so old a soul. Shaking his head, he decided to leave the volumes the way they were and watch Methos’ reaction next time the Old Man graced him with his presence. It would be worth the aggravation and he smiled fondly, closing the book he was currently reading to get up and make some a fresh coffee.
Walking into the barge’s kitchen area MacLeod surveyed his home, content with his life and the peacefulness surrounding him. Amanda had taken off weeks ago to pursue some ‘personal unfinished business’ in Cairo that she’d neglected since the night O’Rourke had disrupted their lives and he really didn’t expect to see her again for some time. Or at least not until she ran into serious trouble, either of the Immortal kind, or of the monetary kind. Probably the latter, Mac acknowledged resigned as he washed out the coffeepot.
Life was slowly returning to normal and he felt oddly refreshed, cleansed in mind, body and soul. A time of reflection and he was now starting to understand how irrational and stupidly impulsive he had acted and sounded to those around him during the unpleasantness surrounding the O’Rourke incident. Why Methos hadn’t shot him again to shut him up, he didn’t know, just extremely grateful that the older Immortal had cared enough to intervene. Releasing a deep sigh, he cleared his mind of turmoil, glad to have finally been able to let go of his inner, silent fears and face the past so he could thank those closest to him. Which he’d done by embracing Amanda, acknowledging Joe and thanking Methos, finding that he could breath, could live with all his past regrets and learn to accept how his life had changed.
Admitting to loving Amanda had not changed their relationship, but had strengthened the friendship and paved the way for him to be more open and honest with all those he considered part of his Clan. His family. To just stop and look around.... and then he had noticed how Joe was aging and that frightened and disturbed him, giving him a new determination to spend more time with his friend, to enjoy life and Joe’s company. He’d then done the same with Methos, really considering the ancient Immortal and finding not so much the legend any longer but a man who craved simple things like peace, friendship.... beer.... and a need to belong. That had opened his eyes, shocked him to see beyond the normal barriers Methos used to disguise his own vulnerabilities and unlocked the way for them to talk. Really talk until that discussion had taken an unexpected turn, and Mac grinned abruptly, remembering how endearingly hesitant Methos had been to admit to a physical attraction that existed between them. It was something that had been there from the very beginning, a stabilizing factor in their volatile relationship. They’d done nothing more than open the topic, separating to think privately on the new information and Mac could now admit that he would like to pursue this surprise direction. He had even mentioned this astonishing fact to Methos two weeks ago receiving a small, yet intense flash of amusement from the Old Man before Methos had advised caution and patience in his best ‘Professor’s’ voice.
Sighing, Mac stopped what he was doing and reconsidered Methos’ words. Lectures he didn’t want, but in this instant, he had been willing to follow Methos’ lead rather than force the issue. Yet. Only now the very trait that had intrigued him about Methos for years was currently frustrating the hell out of him. The anticipation was exciting to a point, thrilling even, but after a few weeks of walking cautiously around the subject he wanted action. He closed his eyes, recalling the last time Methos had visited him - it had been pure torture not to touch the other man, not to sit closer to him and inhale his scent and not to assume the other man would willingly fall in with his plans and desires.
The problem was made worse because he suspected Methos was getting a perverse delight from his predicament, for he had never been good at waiting. A fact Methos knew. A fact he had growled at the other man not five nights ago, only to receive another calm reply that disconcerted him, leaving him edgy and aroused. He was not as naive as everyone presumed, and although Methos scoffed at the idea that he might have to work at capturing a new lover, he was finding it increasingly difficult to get Methos past discussing the issue. Even with his ‘boyish charms’ as the Old Man so mockingly termed it. A little bewildered by the other man’s continued stubbornness, he had backed off slightly, waiting to see what new direction Methos wanted to go, biding his time and finding that the desire only intensified with each and every meeting.
Surprised but genuinely pleased with this new chapter in his life as it opened new doors and new possibilities, Mac planed his seduction of the ancient cynic, only to have the perverse man bolt to Amsterdam the night before last. “Bloody typical,” he said out loud with warm affection, feeling oddly relaxed despite that fact Methos was being so damn temperamental. Methos always ran when he felt cornered, only this time, Mac knew the other man would return. He just had to exercise some of that mythical patience.
Placing the coffeepot on the counter, he paused, hearing footsteps outside on the deck. Tensing automatically, he waited expectantly, disappointed when he got no sweeping sense of Immortal presence and assumed it had to be Joe Dawson. Releasing a sigh, he couldn’t help but wish it were his sharp tongued, cantankerous tease. Thinking on that, his sigh turned into a laugh, remembering that even a Methos in a full snit, dripping sarcastic wit was easier to handle than an Amanda with an incurable urge to steal.
Checking the time, Mac saw it was just after 2PM and wiped his hands as he started towards the main door, glad suddenly for the unexpected company.
Checking out the porthole on the way to the door, Mac saw Joe’s Rover, then went up the few steps and opened the heavy door. He grinned at his friend, gesturing for Joe to come in as he ambled down the stairs and back into the kitchen area. “You are just in time, I was making fresh coffee.”
“Thanks, but no thanks, Mac.” Joe said softly as he closed the door behind him and slowly walked down the few steps.
Glancing up as the tiredness and heaviness in Joe’s tone hit him, Mac hesitated in filling up the coffee machine as he eyed the other man’s approach. “Is something wrong?”
“You could say that.”
Allowing Joe to gather his thoughts, Mac gave his friend a moment, before he went over to the drink cabinet and poured a small whisky. “Here.”
“Mac-”
“You look like you needed something stronger than coffee.” He said gently, seeing the stress and unhappiness that marred Joe’s entire frame.
Lifting his gaze, Joe said nothing, just looking at the tall Scot with a mixture of relief and sadness before taking the drink and placing it down untouched. What he had to say and do needed no misunderstandings, as it already sat far too heavily on his heart, and he tried to convey that message wordlessly to the Highlander. “There is no easy way to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?” Mac asked suddenly getting a whisper of fear dart down his spine.
“That-”
“Just tell me.”
“It’s Methos.”
“What about him?”
“He’s.... dead.” Joe stated, finding his own grief too readily rose up to engulf him with the open acknowledgement of the facts. Reading about it in a hasty report in Head Quarters was one thing. Verbalizing it somehow made the facts even more stark and real. Irreversible.
Frowning, Mac gave a strained half laugh at first, thinking this was some joke. But Joe’s expression never lightened and that dart of fear turned into a dread that sank deep into his bones. Losing his smile completely Mac took a calming breath to settle his immediate shock and panic forcing his mind to search for alternatives, refusing to accept the frankness of Joe’s blunt words. “Methos went to Amsterdam a few days ago.” Mac stated, remembering how the other Immortal had muttered about the absurd prices of rail travel before announcing he wanted to visit Amsterdam. “He wanted to get out of Paris for a few days, had found a lead on another old diary,” he went on almost to himself, picturing Methos’ in his mind and smiling slightly at the memory. Methos had been almost childlike in his delight at the prospect of discovering another chronicle, shattering the illusion again of age and staidness as the Old Man had hypothesized enthusiastically about how such a book could end up in Amsterdam. Of course Mac also knew that things were getting a little too serious between them and this had been Methos’ way to put distance into the developing relationship so as to think. So Mac had allowed him the small deception, knowing that Methos wouldn’t run too far this time.
“I know.” Joe said gently, watching Mac carefully and seeing his worried frown turn into a gentle smile. What was going on in the Highlander’s brain now?
“He rang me yesterday morning,” Mac continued, needing to disprove the obvious, and reaffirm his meager hold on a sane composure and tell Joe that Methos would be back. They had years to catch up on and an eternity to explore the possibilities that beckoned. He would not be cheated out of this chance for happiness. Not now, not when Methos was Immortal, and was supposed to be able to survive. “It was raining.... I remember he was complaining about the weather-”
“Mac, please.”
“He can’t be dead!” Mac stated firmly determined not to believe it. He couldn’t - wouldn’t - believe it.
“Mac, he has a Watcher now. Remember?” Joe reminded him gently, allowing some of his own grief to show through.
“Then he’s probably just staged his death.” Mac concluded. “He’s been threatening to do that for weeks! You know that.” Mac ended tartly as his frown and displeasure increased. “You know how paranoid he is about being photographed.”
Glaring at the stubborn Scot for a prolonged moment, Joe said nothing more, walking around his friend’s tall, rigid frame to perch on the edge of a stool by the kitchen bench. He didn’t need this, yet he had expected it, so why was he surprised? Because for all the arguments, posturing and accusations Mac and Methos leveled at each other, he understood how close both men were. Had been. “Mac,” he paused, taking a deep breath, “Methos met an Immortal in Amsterdam last night, and from what I can glean from reports he was defeated in a fair challenge.”
Mac glared at his friend, clamping his jaw firmly closed and not liking the clinical, indifferent way Joe summarized such a tragic event. This couldn’t be happening to him, not now, not after finding that more than friendship was offered. To belong utterly, to have a relationship that was about more than sex, or convenience. He adored Amanda, but they both knew nothing would ever be permanent between them. Yet with Methos, things could be so different for he could be loved for all his faults both old and new. He could have someone beside him, who was constant, who completely understands the fear and the pain of immortality.
“Christ Mac, I don’t like it any more than you do.” Joe petitioned softly, running a hand over his head, not wanting to dwell on his own heartache. “All indications suggest that Methos slipped, lost his footing in the rain and-” he left the rest unsaid, closing his eyes, still finding it so hard to comprehend. After five thousand years for it all end in a mindless accident, it didn’t seem right or fair. In a lot of ways he felt like a parent who had just lost a child for he never expected to out-live the world’s oldest and most annoyingly likable Immortal.
Sucking in a breath, Mac heard the pain in Joe’s voice and unclenched a fist. His first reaction was denial, but Joe wouldn’t lie to him, not about something this important. Yet he just couldn’t accept the truth. Not without seeing the body. Yet did he want to see the body, remembering all too clearly how finding Darius had affected him, and he closed his eyes tightly to dispel the painful memory. “It has to be a mistake.”
“No.”
Feeling his legs start to shake, Mac somehow found his way over to the lounge and collapsed down on it. “Are you sure?” His voice broke, becoming hoarse, strained as he absently glanced around the barge seeing the ghost image of his friend, hearing Methos’ accented baritone, watching the slender frame whisper past him like a dream image. It made him shiver. “He was here three days ago,” he whispered, verbalizing the memories out loud, picturing in his mind how Methos had arrived before breakfast dumped his coat on the lounge then ambled over to the fridge to get a beer while complaining about small inconsequential things. He remembered smiling tolerantly at the other man’s antics, listening to his chatter and taking pleasure in the fact Methos was willing to try and work on their changing circumstances. The wordless promise of more lingering between them as they talked, teased and flirted almost like teenagers, both of them so unsure how far to push the other. The freedom to explore unvoiced liberties.... but now his smile died abruptly and he turned back to stare up at Joe Dawson. Slowly the gravity of Joe’s words sank in and he closed his eyes, tears welling up in anguish and pain. No.... Methos dead?!? The idea of never being able to see the other man again, to never be scandalized, infuriated or jollied out of a brood by one of Methos’ caustic comments seemed so terribly impossible and wrong. To never now touch Methos, to taste him, to have the silent vows fulfilled, raked down his soul and he gasped out a painful breath suddenly feeling every one of his immortal years. The future was irreversibly turning bleak, darkening into a lonely uninviting place of nightmares and horrors.
“I’m sorry, Mac,” Joe whispered, blinking away his own tears of loss and anguish.
“Who?”
“It was random from what I can gather. Not a hunter.” Joe assured him, his own drawl thickening. “Unexpected-” he stopped and swore, angry with himself and the Old Man for putting them through this.
Nodding Mac felt his jaw lock as the information sank in. He couldn’t lose Methos.... the ancient Immortal was always so cautious, so talented at slipping away unnoticed, at manipulating circumstances. “Joe-”
“Stupid, infuriating son of a bitch didn’t even try to back away from this challenge!” Joe went on gruffly needing to explain his feelings. He couldn’t talk back at Headquarters, couldn’t show how much this tore him up inside. “Why couldn’t he follow his own goddamn advice for once!”
Mac said nothing, abruptly standing to turn away from his friend's pain, as it struck him exactly what he had lost. The injustice of it, the waste all rolled over him and let the anger and grief consume him as the shock worked it ways deep into his heart and mind. Joe would never understand, had no inclination of the depth of his feeling towards Methos and now those emotions curled up in his gut filling him with a hopelessness. Such a waste of a valuable, old and beautiful life. “Who was the Immortal?”
“Huh?” Joe raised his head and blinked to clear his vision.
“The Immortal.” Mac clarified, forcing his brain to think, to focus on other, simpler things. “Who challenged him?”
“Ambazidis.”
“Alex Ambazidis?!” Mac growled, swinging back to look at Joe as his shattering denial turned sharply into a righteous fury. It was an easier emotion to deal with than the anchorless feelings of pain and emptiness.
“You know him?” Joe questioned, not having seen the name in Mac’s chronicles.
“Aye!” Mac growled harshly. “I should as the bastard tried for my head. On holy ground!”
Stunned, Joe pushed his sorrow aside, mentally reviewing the facts he knew.
“And he is a cowardly hunter.” Mac corrected, remembering his instant dislike of the Immortal. They had definitely not parted amicably and from what he could recall Connor telling him about the Italian Ambazidis, the Immortal liked to hold grudges. “If he went after Methos because of me,” Mac snarled, stopping, letting that insidious thought germinate and already deciding to go after the bastard without a logical excuse. Vengeance a reckless desire, but a weapon he gladly wanted to embrace so as to atone for a loved one. Beloved. Yes he could confess that now. Now that it was too late. For just the simple idea that Methos had been a target because of him resurrected all the old fears he had thought buried after O’Rourke. Shoving away the telling realization, MacLeod centered on his inner turmoil, knowing it was irrational, but welcoming the decision. Methos might not have let him fight this battle, but he refused to sit around and let an Immortal like Ambazidis live to benefit from Methos’ ancient Quickening.
“Mac-”
Shaking his head, Mac refused to listen, his mind too taken up with the last image he had of the older Immortal and how he would never have the pleasure of touching him more intimately. Needing to move suddenly he paced away from Joe, his vision blurring as memories of three days ago resurfaced persistently in his mind and his eyes instinctively looked towards the main door of the barge. That was where he’d last seen his friend, last touched him, hearing Methos’ derogatory comment in his mind about one of his ‘boy scout tendencies’ before the slender man had simply reached over and gripped his arm, squeezing gently and gracing him with a warm encompassing smile. They had not said good-bye, for it had not been necessary any longer. He understood that now, but still he had not told Methos everything. He’d never told him.... “I never had a chance to thank him, to tell him-” he muttered more to himself as he stared at the closed door, seeing ghostlike images still. “Never said the words. Never said goodbye. Never told him that I valued his company, his friendship-” his acceptance and love.
“Mac-”
“I never told him how I feel.”
“I know buddy.” Joe offered as he walked over to MacLeod and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Neither did I, but I’m sure Methos knew.”
“No!” Mac hissed, turning around and gripping Joe’s arm, almost shaking him. “You don’t understand!” He almost pleaded. “He can’t do this to me now. Can’t leave me like this. Not after-”
Frowning, Joe was at a loss to follow Mac distraught speech, feeling only his anguish as it washed over him. “Mac-”
“It has to be a mistake. He promised to come home, promised me a chance-” Mac broke off again, remembering very clearly how Methos’ eyes had given him hope, offering such openness. “I can’t lose him-”
“Mac, please!”
“I can’t!” Mac almost sobbed the words. “Not again! Not him, not after all that’s happened. Not now!”
“Mac I wish-”
“I’ll go to Amsterdam.” Mac stated abruptly, releasing Dawson and stepping back.
“And what good will that do?!” Joe demanded his own pain evident as he glared at MacLeod. He really didn’t want to fight with the Highlander over this.
“I’ll find Ambazidis.” Mac muttered as he side-stepped the aging Watcher and swiftly went to gather his coat and sword.
“Mac!”
Searching for his keys, Mac paid Joe no attention as his mind became consumed with the need for action.
‘Typical, impulsive, irrational behavior Highlander. It will only get you killed’....
Stilling abruptly as Fates’ icy fingers caressed him, Mac blinked around stunned, hearing Methos’ characteristic baritone in his mind as it accused him of over-reacting again, yet the tone was undeniably affectionate. “But I have too,” he answered the unseen challenge.
Limping over to the muttering man, Joe scowled at MacLeod, wishing he had brought his gun. “I’m sorry, Mac, but there is nothing you can do.”
“Oh yes there is.”
“Like what?” Joe half shouted, not sure he liked the look of this as MacLeod stared at him dazed. “Seek revenge?!” He demanded, wanting to break this dangerous spell. “That is the last thing Methos would want you to do. And you know it-”
“If Alex took out Methos then I doubt it was an accident. It would have been deliberate.” He informed Dawson harshly. “Apart from the fact he shouldn’t be allowed to keep Methos’ Quickening, he’ll now be coming after me. Or worse, he’ll go after Amanda first to weaken me further.”
“Not everything has to involve you.” Joe reminded him, confused by this logic. “You could be reading more into this than necessary. It was random-”
“I doubt it!” Mac snapped, shelving all his grief and focusing it into a cold, unrelenting anger. Later he would mourn, later he would allow himself to think about the gaping hole Methos’ absence would leave in his life, how it would destroy his dreams, but now he just wanted revenge.
“Mac this is crazy!” Joe shouted again, his own grief turning into annoyance.
Mac refused to listen, tugging on his coat and shoving extra items into his coat pockets.
“What am I going to do if I lose you as well!” Joe’s voice broke as he hiccuped on a breath, his whole body starting to tremble with suppressed shock and distress. “Goddamnit! You guys are my family-”
Stopping abruptly Mac looked at Joe, really looked at him, then was moving towards his friend and hugging him fiercely. “You won’t. Can’t lose me.” He promised softly. “But what am I going to do without him?” He asked instead.
“I don’t know, Mac. I seriously don’t know.” Joe admitted in a whisper as he drew back and wiped his eyes. “Crazy son of a bitch has always been there.”
“Five thousand years,” Mac stopped, tensing as he was suddenly swept with an Immortal signature. It saturated his confused senses and he hastily picked up his sword to cautiously walk towards the door. Ambazidis? Could the other have tracked him so easily? So quickly?
“You don’t think it is Ambazidis?” Joe asked on a soft breath, worry touching him as he read Mac’s set, cold expression.
“Who else?” Mac growled. All too readily he knew how the Italian Immortal would have learned of his whereabouts from Methos’ powerful Quickening and he stopped that thought dead, needing control and a sense of rational thinking. Hardening his resolve and pushed the pain aside, raising his katana and vowing that this would be one Quickening that Ambazidis would not benefit from, nor keep.
The footsteps on the deck outside were light and sure, and Mac drew his sword as he softly padded towards his main door, his mind centered on the upcoming challenge, the buzz in his head a hazed blur of sound as his inner shock distorted perception. He would give Ambazidis a fair fight, not that the other Immortal deserved it. Waiting poised he saw the door handle move slightly as if the other was testing it and Mac seized the handle and dragged the door open, pulling the other Immortal purposely off balance.
“Whoa!”
Lifting his sword in preparation, Mac faltered as he got an armful of warm body before the other Immortal was pulling back.
“Bloody hell Mac, what you trying to do, kill me!?”
“Methos!” Mac gaped, stunned as he blinked at the older Immortal. “You’re dead!”
Methos winced. “Again?” He muttered sarcastically, then caught the looks on both MacLeod’s and Dawson’s face. “Hold it Mac, what ever you are thinking in that Scottish head, it wasn’t me.” Methos offered, taking a step back and raising his hands defensively as he gave the other man an impish smile. It made no impression and he raised a brow in puzzlement, sensing Mac’s deep-seated shock and fear. “Mac?” He reached out wanting to soothe the Highlander, hating to see the other so consumed with grief. Another demon from the past, or another friend of MacLeod’s killed? “Duncan-”
Swearing in Gaelic, Mac dragged the other man closer into a fierce hug, almost injuring him in the process, before he dropped the katana to the floor and clutched the slender form harder.
Startled Methos complied with little more than a yelp, grunting as the breath was knocked out of him before MacLeod was pushing him back to glare at him.
“God Methos! Don’t ever scare me-” Mac started, then stopped, his vision blurring as the full force of what he had almost lost hit him. Savagely he yanked the other closer again, ignoring all etiquette and claiming the stunned mouth of his infuriating friend. His visions of their first kiss paled with reality, as he hungrily attacked the mouth trapped against his. This was their first solid contact and Mac poured all his pent up fears into the oral assault, pushing the other man roughly back against the door jam. That only brought them into closer contact and Mac gasped, getting flooded with relief as Methos’ mouth opened to him, denying nothing and offering everything. The feel of Methos’ presence blanketed his fear, saturating his senses as he experienced his friend’s small gasp of surprise before cool fingers were embracing his face to comfort him. That tempered the desperation of the kiss, turning it more passionate, firing a renewal of hope into his heart, as he finally tasted the very essence he craved.
Stepping back, slower this time, Mac purposely kept his eyes on Methos, noting his flushed cheeks and swollen lips as the other’s fast rapid breaths feathered over him. It was erotic and tantalizing, quelling his nerves as he watched Methos lift his lashes, then he was bathed in pure amused wantonness and found his body reacted instinctively to the wicked provocation. “You scared – no terrified me.”
“Duncan-”
“Not to mention what you did to Joe,” Mac half growled, warming to his theme, indicating the silent Watcher and just realizing what he had done. He turned and blinked over at Joe, seeing Dawson’s stunned expression and allowing a small, contrite smile to form. Then he was looking back at Methos, seeing the thoughtful wonder that filled the bright eyes and leaned forward to lightly brush the moist lips a second time.
Astonished by this turn of events, Methos tried to re-gather his lost composure and give the Highlander as chastising frown. It didn’t work. “Just how much red cordial have you been drinking while I was gone?”
“Not enough,” Mac whispered back, so delighted to have this man close again.
“I’m gratified you missed me so much,” Methos said on an inhaled breath, finding his own traitorous pulse increasing with the determination smoldering in MacLeod’s damnable eyes. “But do you mind explaining what it is I’ve done? Just so I can be suitably humbled.” He added as an after thought.
“Joe heard that you faced an Immortal-” Mac started, forcing himself to release the other man completely a step back before he took any more liberties. That would have to wait now until after Joe left. If Joe would leave without a full, detailed explanation.
“Ambazidis.” Joe interrupted, lost for words as he swept his gaze between both men. How had he missed this little tidbit of information? Maybe he was getting too old. Limping forward, he plastered on a frown, just catching Methos brief look of horror before the reaction was expertly covered. “You know him?”
“I told you Joe, it had to be a mistake.” Mac said then graced Methos with another smile. “According to the Watchers you were challenged last night in Amsterdam.” Mac informed his soon to be lover and saving Methos from answering Joe’s question.
“Umm, let me get this right,” Methos covered, inching away from Mac’s consuming body heat so he could think. Damn! This was one complication he didn’t want just yet. “You both thought I’d-”
“Lost a challenge and died.” Mac supplied darkly, finding his anger resurfaced instantly with the verbal acknowledgement. He pushed it down, finding his smile turn ruefully as he drank in Methos’ slender frame.
“I lost a challenge?” Methos repeated incredulously, ignoring Mac’s leer. The best form of defense was offense. “Mac, I’m the one who’s forever telling you to walk away from useless battles.”
“It seemed plausible at the time.”
Glancing at Joe, Methos turned his attention back on MacLeod, not missing the churning undercurrent of need and want in the beautiful Scot. This was what he wanted, but not like this. “I don’t fight losing battles. Remember?” Methos informed him softly, lifting a hand to place it palm down on Mac’s chest in reassurance, praying the Highlander would drop the issue. At least for now.
“You terrified me,” Mac whispered back, his attention solely focused on Methos.
“You were seen.” Joe said stubbornly. “Identified.” He carried on, as he tone became shrewd. Never had he been so delighted to read an inaccurate report, yet slowly now his mind was raising other valid questions. Questions that had little to do with what was impossibly happening between the two Immortal’s before him. Rather he knew that something else was going on. “What aren’t you telling, me – us now?” Joe demanded as Methos started to squirm under Mac’s consuming glare.
Mac blinked at Joe then turned expectantly back to Methos and saw the innocent expression. It shouted deviousness. “Methos!” He growled, feeling more in control as he gripped the cool hand against his chest to stop his partner’s characteristic retreat.
“Damn,” Methos muttered, eyeing his two friends. “I don’t suppose there is any chance of a beer first. Is there?”
“No.” Mac growled as he advanced on his perverse friend again, cornering him against the door. He inhaled, breathing in Methos soothing scent before glaring harder at him.
“Somehow that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.” Methos muttered resigned. “You should learn to be more open-minded-”
“Methos!”
*****
Song Lyrics.
Never Forget You by Mariah Carey
(From the CD Music box)
I won't see your smile
And I won't hear you laugh anymore
Every night I won't see you walk through that door
'Cause time wasn't on your side
It isn't right
I can't say I love you
Its too late to Tell you
But I really need You to know
No, I'll never forget you
I'll never let you out of my heart
You will always be here with me
I'll hold on to the memories baby
Baby, can you hear me
Wherever you May be tonight
Are you near me
I need you to be by my side
'Cause I never said Good bye
It isn't right
I should have said I love you
Why didn't I just Tell you
God knows I need You to know
No, I'll never forget you
I'll never let you out of my heart
You will always be here with me
I'll hold onto the memories baby
Somewhere I know you'll be With me
Someday in another time
But right now you're gone
You just vanished away
But I'll never leave You behind
No, I'll never forget you
I'll never let you out of my heart
You will always be here with me
I'll hold on to the memories baby
Mail the Author
Main Page