Title: "Can't Sleep Anymore"
Author: Rebecca Bradstreet
Rated: PG-13
Archive: Sure.
Summary: Grayson has been dead over 3 years and TJ is still haunted by him.
Warning: Drinking, swearing, bleeding.
Notes: This story is set in the regular timeline between "Through a Glass Darkly" and "Judgement Day." I've used my knowledge of Zealot writing this. The important things from the book are - Constantine first met Methos as Remus in Rome in 34 AD. Constantine rescued Methos from crucifixion. Constantine was Ceirdwyn's teacher they were... ah... very close for a while. And Constantine is killed in the book without ever learning Remus/Adam Pierson is Methos. I've assumed the book is set before Judgement Day. Methos is still posing as Adam Pierson in the book. I am using // as thoughts, and ** as emphasis.
Disclaimer: I don't own Grayson, Methos or any of the other Highlander characters in this story. "All Through The Night" is an old Welsh lullaby. "Will Ye Go" is a song SpiritDancing gave me. I own Theresa Joy "TJ" Grey.
Special Thanks To: SpiritDancing for the lyrics to "Will Ye Go" and TBstreet for beta reading.
"Can't Sleep Anymore"
Rebecca Bradstreet (c) 2000Seacouver 1996,
"You sent for me Joe. What's up?" Adam Pierson had flown out of Paris on official Watcher's business, what the business was he hadn't been told yet.
"It's TJ, Methos. She's missing." Joe's voice was tense -- worried.
"How serious is it?" Methos set his beer down on the table and met the worried eyes of his friend.
"She's only disappeared like this five or six times since the Watchers first learned she was an Immortal. She's gone, nobody can find her." Joe put his own drink down and looked hard at the Old Man sitting across from him.
"Have you talked to Duncan about her?" Methos nervously spun his drink on the table. He knew where the conversation was headed, but he was waiting for Joe to take it there.
"Duncan, yeah right. Mac you know how TJ said she was okay about Grayson? Well, she up and disappeared in front of her Watcher a couple of weeks ago right after leaving a dozen roses at that little park you first fought Grayson in." Joe shook his head. Methos thought, //Here it comes.// "No, I haven't talked to Mac about it. *If* she's decided she *is* mad at him one of them will lose their head. But that's just it, she vanished without making any threats. She stood in the park, laid the flowers, and disappeared." Joe leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh.
"You're worried about her? You like her? And you think I can find her?" Methos pushed his beer away from him.
"Well you're the one who's been hiding in the Watchers for years." It was delivered in a friendly tone, but Methos knew it still bothered Joe to know there was an Immortal in the Watchers.
"Do I get any hints as to where I *might* start my search besides a Seacouver sulfur mine?" Methos was resigned. If he didn't look for TJ for Joe, the Watcher would talk to MacLeod and Joe was right about one thing -- if TJ wanted Duncan's head one of them would lose theirs.
"Before each of her previous disappearances she talked to someone -- Darius, Grayson, or Constantine." When Joe finished, he reached for his beer, not looking up. The soft whistle the news drew didn't lift Joe's eyes from his beer. Methos had quit the Game to protect his head from Immortals that would see it as a prize. It wasn't the only reason he'd quite the Game. He suddenly wondered if TJ should be left alone.
"Do you have anyone watching for her in Paris?" Darius and Constantine had died in Paris, if she was saying her farewells there might be roses at Darius' church or Constantine's museum. Joe nodded.
"I put out the word for her all over, and I asked for Adam Pierson as an extra set of legs." Joe stretched his legs out under the table with a "gotcha ya" grin.
"No roses?" Methos ignored Joe's smile.
"No. No roses in Paris and none at the sulfur mine. Just the ones at the park. I'm hoping it just means she's getting around to admitting she misses Grayson." Joe didn't sound like he thought it much of a hope just the only one he had.
"Did she... did she leave things behind the other times she disappeared?" Methos had an idea or two where she might be, but he didn't want to share them with Joe. He'd talk with the Watcher a bit longer, then he'd go looking for her in the places Constantine had told him about.
"I don't know. I can look into it." Joe sounded relieved that Methos had given him something he could do.
"You look into that, and I'll go see about a plane ticket." Methos got up leaving money for his unfinished beer on the table.
"You don't have to... hey, plane ticket to where?" Joe called realizing Methos had slipped out on him, while he was gathering up the Old Man's money to give it back to him.
Nowhere 1996,
"DAMN YOU TO HELL YOU GOD DAMNED SON OF A BITCH!!!!!" TJ screamed at the picture of Grayson she shouldn't have brought with her. It paid no attention to her screeching, but it did fall over when she threw her empty rum bottle at it. She'd spent years telling herself she was fine because he and Duncan had just done what they'd had to do. Spent years telling herself Grayson had gone to face Duncan well aware of the possibility *he* might be the one not coming back. Spent years telling herself he'd said everything he'd had to say to her before he'd left. It was what Grayson had said before he'd left, and the fact he hadn't come back, that had reduced her to cursing a picture of him that couldn't possibly scream back.
TJ tried to climb up off the floor, and find her balance. She stood up all right. Then she fell through the glass coffee table. She hung in the frame for a moment, grabbed the frame jagged with the broken glass, and rolled herself off the frame back on to the floor. She didn't bother to curse the bits of glass. They hurt and she'd have to clean them out before her body would heal properly, but they were just a little physical pain. They didn't compare in the least to the emotional pain that had built up in her over the months, years since Grayson's death. The last thing he'd said to her -- the very last thing he'd said to her was something he hadn't said in 800 years. He'd stood in the doorway of her apartment smiled one of his thin little smiles and said, "TJ... I love you," then left completely -- *forever.* TJ wished her wrists would stay slit.
There was the buzz of another Immortal approaching. Who the bloody Hell would be looking for another Immortal in the middle of nowhere? And it was *the middle* of nowhere. The only other soul who knew... had known about this particular retreat of hers was dead. Not Grayson, he was one of the things TJ'd used the place to get away from. No, Constantine had known about it. Though he'd handed her training over to Ceirdwyn, when he'd decided she needed a woman to teach her a woman's touch, Constantine had kept close contact with TJ. Marcus Constantine was -- would always be the Immortal she considered her mentor. He would have told her she was being stupid bringing a picture of Grayson with her. Who had he told about *her* retreat?
"Who the bloody Hell goes there?!" TJ shouted from the rubble she lay in.
"Methos," the Old Man answered. He didn't have to say Adam Pierson. She knew he was Methos just as Duncan, Amanda and Joe did. It had made her laugh to learn she knew he was Methos and Constantine didn't. He still wasn't sure which amused her more -- not telling Constantine, or that not telling him left her with the temptation to tell him. He leaned against the door he hadn't had to knock on. He couldn't hear her making any effort to open it. Of course he couldn't hear her doing much of anything on the other side of the door. She hadn't said go away or come in. Methos felt the brief fear she was moving silently to attack him. Then he wondered if she was hoping he'd go away if she ignored him. He wasn't going away, at least not until he could ease Joe's fears for Duncan.
"TJ can I come in?" He would ask before he let himself in, but he didn't hold out much hope for a cheery welcome in. She was definitely angry at someone.
"No! Get the Hell away from me!! When... when I can get up off this floor I'm thinking I might try hanging myself." It wouldn't be a truly permanent solution, but TJ knew the nightmares couldn't follow her into *that* darkness. Of course she had a real live Immortal on the other side of her front door. She might be able to get him to take her head. Hell he'd offered his to Duncan, he might even understand if she offered. It would require getting up off the floor and she couldn't seem to do that. TJ moaned and it sounded dangerously close to a sob. She wasn't going to cry. When she'd had to admit she couldn't maintain indifference she'd built herself up walls of anger. She wasn't going to cry for Grayson, but dying for him didn't seem so bad.
Methos sighed. On the one hand he could call Joe and tell him to stop worrying about Duncan. On the other he couldn't tell Joe the condition TJ was in. He picked the lock on her front door and let himself in. Given the mess that met him at the front door he was surprised the yard had been so clean. TJ hadn't been bothering to clean up after herself. She hadn't been bothering to do any cleaning. From the trash he picked his way through in the entryway, she had been eating and drinking at some point, though the sounds he heard from the living room where TJ falling again and again. Methos wasn't sure if he should clear a spot to put his duffle down on before or after he went and had a look at her.
"Let yourself in did you? Which busybody sent you on this misery run? Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod? Can't let a little girl disappear on his watch? Joe Dawson? Observe, record, and don't interfere unless it's a Tuesday. Watchers can interfere on Tuesdays." It was a lot of bitter grumbling broken up by the sounds of TJ trying to get up again and again. Methos ignored it -- whatever help he was going to offer, however much of it TJ would take, could wait until he found some place in the building he didn't have to worry about sticking to or tripping in. The house was a good sized place, and with a little exploring Methos found a guest room that didn't require a lot of cleaning. Methos set his duffle down at the foot of the bed.
"Hey! Where are you going? The busy bodies won't like it if you don't have some cheery malarkey to report to them." The sullen rambling drifted up the stairs after Methos and he shook his head. He liked TJ. He couldn't remember exactly how she'd come up between Constantine and him, much less this hideaway of hers, but Constantine had told him about it as a secret he was proud she'd shared with him. The general would roar at her in this condition, or weep. Methos would settle in before he decided which approach to take. He wasn't sure roaring would get her attention. He wasn't sure weeping would either. Methos wanted to help her if he could, but she sounded like an empty wreck. Patching the cracks and filling her back up again might be beyond him.
"Damn..." It wasn't delivered with the force of a grumble or a curse. It was a whisper as she gave up trying to find her legs. TJ flopped down next to the broken remains of her coffee table, and felt a soft trickle as some of her blood escaped around a fresh cut. It was just possible she'd succeeded in giving herself alcohol poisoning. //In which case I'm dying. Whoopeee! Won't last. Dead and back again. I've let Duncan, Constantine, and Ceirdwyn cry on me. I cried for Darius and Constantine, but I can't cry for Grayson. What would he think of me? He *had* to say he loved me. He couldn't just let it be.// The tears were threatening again, and if she didn't die she didn't know if she could stop them. Fortunately, darkness swallowed her.
It was silent downstairs. It couldn't possibly be a good thing. Methos didn't *think* she'd managed to get up and hang herself while he'd found a clean guest room, but she might have come up with some other way to kill herself lying on the floor in her living room. He came down the stairs slowly, wanting to see what she'd done, but not wanting to break his neck racing to her. TJ was lying in the middle of her living room floor dead. Oh not dead dead, her head was still attached, but she'd drunk herself *all* the way under. No halves in her trying. Methos carefully moved the larger pieces of glass out of his way first. Then he turned to sweeping away the smaller ones. She came back just before he was ready to start cleaning *her* up.
"The nightmares don't follow me *that* far down." TJ said it softly, as if speaking of it aloud might bring the nightmares into even that darkness. Methos looked at her, noting that those were the first words from her that didn't ring with bitterness. She didn't look as angry as her grumblings had made him fear. What she looked, beyond tired -- was haunted. Methos had known, when Joe had rattled off her list of dead, that TJ had to be running from a ghost. He even had a guess as to who. Darius would have given her a place to cry, and Constantine the reasons. Of course she had already cried for them. Methos didn't know if TJ would take comfort from him. He would try to comfort her. He just hoped she'd let him.
"When is the last time you slept? Slept, not died." Methos was quick to clarify his question.
"A long time, a very long time." Her voice was thick with her exhaustion and pain.
Methos brushed glass off of her clothing. He picked broken glass out of her hair. Then he looked at the pieces that needed to be pulled out of her hands, the blood that needed to be washed out of her hair.
"Want some coffee?" He took her hand in his and began pulling glass from it.
"Sure... unh... black coffee to a chase a rum overdose with." The tone was detached but TJ gave him a wan smile.
"Have to have the strength to hang yourself with." Methos matched his tone to hers.
"Mmh... I'd forgotten I was going to try that. Would you take my head and let me skip all of it?" The hope he heard in the question scared him more than the pain.
"Your other hand?" Methos decided to act as if he hadn't heard it. TJ gave him her other hand without adding another word. She fell silent, letting him clean out her wounds -- wash the blood off. When he'd done what he could to clean her up he went for the coffee. Methos didn't sit down with coffee in hand; he sat with tea. He refused to be part of an international coffee ad, but he knew she needed something hot and soothing.
"Pretty thin coffee." It was a tease, music to Methos' ears.
"You *said* you haven't slept. *This* will help." He held out his cup towards her, showing her he wasn't forcing anything on her he wasn't drinking himself.
"Nothing will help -- nothing can help." Though her words were bleak, TJ spoke them softly and drank her tea.
"You have a master bedroom in this place?" Methos made a show of craning his neck about looking the place over. He had her talking. It was small, but it was a start.
"Sure, big bedroom, big bath. Why? You want to buy the place?" TJ didn't look offended. She didn't even sound curious. She was just talking for him not to him.
"No. If you get to sleep, I thought I might put you to bed." He didn't suggest TJ go to bed *before* falling asleep. Sleep had her scared. He was pushing things just mentioning it.
"Ha! *If* I get to sleep, you think you can carry me there?" It was more teasing, but this time it had the bitter edge to it. He would ignore the edge, and simply respond to the challenge.
"I can carry you there right now, if you tell me where there is." Methos put his tea aside and stood over her. She set her tea next to his, and stood.
"Well, if you want to see the master bedroom follow me." TJ led him back beyond the mounds of rubble she'd allowed to pile up -- back to a master bedroom she clearly hadn't been sleeping in.
"Okay," was the only word of warning Methos gave her before he scooped her up and deposited her in the unrumpled bed. A look of terror crossed her face. For one moment TJ clung to him in complete panic. Then it passed, and she sank onto the bed with her expression of bitter exhaustion once more in place.
"Methos, do you sing?" The question was so odd, and asked with such gentle curiosity he gave her a straight answer.
"Badly," Methos smiled sheepishly.
"Do you know any lullabies?" TJ was thinking about trying to sleep. He needed to encourage her, but he didn't know what to sing.
"None that I can think of." Methos shrugged self-consciously. TJ curled towards him on the bed. She didn't reach out to him. Having let go after her wave of panic, she wasn't trying to touch him -- just be near him.
"If I sing a bit of one for you can you pick it up?" Methos could see her thinking, trying to help him, trying to help herself.
"Maybe," he told her quietly, sitting down on the bed -- closing the distance between them.
"Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee, all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night." TJ sang it softly, and pleadingly. She brushed her head against his thigh as she curled in on herself.
"Soft the drowsy hours are creeping. Hill and dale in slumber sleeping. I my loving vigil keeping, all through the night." Methos knew the old tune though he hadn't heard it in some time. He was surprised that he remembered more of the lyrics. Methos pulled her into his lap, and brushed her hair as he sang the song softly.
"While the moon her watch is keeping, all through the night. While the weary world is sleeping, all through the night." TJ sang the lines sleepily into Methos chest. The lullaby was working.
"O'er thy spirit gently stealing. Visions of delight revealing. Breathes a pure and holy feeling, all through the night." Methos sang as he shifted her, ever so gently, so he could see her eyes close in much needed sleep.
TJ's Dreams 1996,
She couldn't believe the sky was blue. TJ knew vaguely she was sleeping. The sky should be full of crimson clouds raining warm thick blood. Of course she wasn't standing before the Seacouver sulfur mine either. No, what she stood before was a crystal fountain, mountain thyme, and blooming heather. TJ had the feeling a tune should go with the view, but it hadn't yet tugged at her. For a moment she thought she might study her reflection in the fountain. Then she walked towards the mountain thyme with some vague notion of picking it.
"Miss me?" A voice teased her softly from behind. TJ spun to face him, and she laughed in her joy. He wasn't covered in blood, or sulfur. Grayson's face showed no signs of anger, or fear, or loss. He smiled at her good humor, and held out his arms to her. TJ threw herself into them. She hugged him tight knowing he was just a figment of her imagination, and from somewhere softly came, "I will build my love a tower, by yon pure crystal fountain. And on it, I will pile all the flowers of the mountain. Will ye go, lassy, go?"
"Constantine sitting watch?" Grayson asked, knowing about her nightmares, knowing someone was sitting guard, but not knowing about that loss. Her face clouded briefly with the pain of that loss. Then TJ shook her head.
"No, Mordecai killed Constantine. Methos found me. He found me... and... and I think his singing voice is quite good." If she closed her eyes and concentrated she could almost hear "All Through the Night" laid over "Will Ye Go."
"You can't stay here forever." Grayson said it gently but firmly.
"I won't go back to the nightmares! I won't!!" TJ shook him, but she didn't let go.
"No, no, I don't want you to go back to the nightmares." He hugged her tight, and once more the music rose so the words could be heard, "If my true love, she were gone, I would surely find another where wild mountain thyme grows around the bloomin' heather. Will ye go, lassy, go?"
"I can't. I can't go. I don't want to find another. I love you Grayson!" TJ wept softly against him. Grayson started to sing softly. Not the tune that played softly over the landscape, but the one Methos sang softly beyond the dream.
"Though I roam a minstrel lonely, all through the night. My true harp shall praise song only, all through the night. Love's young dream, alas, is over. Yet my strains of love shall hover near the presence of my lover, all through the night." Grayson lifted TJ's tear streaked face to his.
TJ sang back, "Hark, a solemn bell is ringing, clear through the night. Thou, my love, heavenward winging, home through the night. Earthly dust from off thee shaken. Soul immortal shalt thou awaken with thy last dim journey taken, home through the night."
Grayson kissed TJ lightly on the forehead, "You know I have to go."
TJ wiped at her tears and nodded, "I know."
Grayson stepped away from her. He walked away from her through the mountain thyme and blooming heather.
TJ whispered, "I will go," and listened for the sound of Methos softly guiding her.
Nowhere 1996,
Methos looked around for a clock. He wasn't sure what time it was. TJ was still a sleeping warmth against him. *That* he was pleased with. She hadn't screamed, or tossed in her sleep. Maybe, just maybe, it had done her some good. He felt rumpled, and wanted to brush his teeth, but he didn't want to disturb her. The "kid" was smaller, and more fragile than he remembered her. He shifted himself just a little, trying to revive some of his circulation, while holding TJ to him. She stirred slightly as if his movement or something in her dreams disturbed her. Methos sang some of the lullaby he'd sung over, and over, until he fell asleep himself.
"Soft the drowsy hours are creeping. Hill and dale in slumber sleeping. I my loving vigil keeping, all through the night." Rather than slipping back into deeper sleep TJ was waking. She peered up at him blearily.
"Thank you for sitting vigil." TJ smiled up at him weakly.
"You're welcome." Methos told her and was a little surprised by how much he meant it.
"I miss him sooo much!" TJ let out in a rush.
"I know." Methos told her, even though he wasn't certain she meant Grayson.
"I *miss* Grayson." TJ said more slowly and clearly before she began to cry.
"I know, I know." Methos hugged TJ to him, and he was certain he meant every word.