Dr. Mallory slowly opened the bedroom door, going to the young woman in the hallway.
"He's fading fast, Ms. Morgan. I'm so sorry.... I don't think he'll make it through the night."
Roberta nodded. "Thank you so much, Doctor."
She went into the bedroom, hugging herself. "Hey Micky...." she took his trembling hand. "Do you recognize me?"
The old man nodded. His voice was raspy as he attempted to speak. "I could.... never forget.... Mum."
Roberta kissed his hand. "I love you, honey. I wish.... I wish I could just hold onto you."
"I.... love you.... Say..... Good-bye to.... Dad...."
****
He is immortal.
Born 5,000 years ago, the details of his birth have been lost to the ages.
He will only fall with the strike of a sword and the loss of his head.
He has been a healer....
A scholar....
A killer....
He is Methos.
The Methos Chronicles
Episode 2-- Lady Madonna
Story by MC and Fre
Written by MC
****
The man known as Dr. Benjamin Roberts sauntered into Joe Dawson's half-finished bar. His walk was casual, cat-like. The expression on his face showed a self-confidence belying his youthful appearance.
"The place is looking great, Joe," Methos called out. Joe Dawson was nowhere to be seen in the bar. "Joe?"
The office door swung open and Joe walked out. He was dressed in a black suit, not even looking up to acknowledge Methos.
"Is something up?"
"Huh?" Joe looked up. "Yeah. I'm heading to a funeral. I just needed to get something from my office."
"Funeral?" Methos was on immediate alert. Around Joe Dawson, funerals usually meant someone was murdered. "Who died?"
"An old friend. Michael Marlowe. He taught me a lot."
Methos' breath caught in his throat. He licked his suddenly dry lips. "Micky Marlowe died? How come no one told me?"
"I didn't realize you knew Micky." Joe put on his jacket.
"I knew him quite well." Methos replied. "When is it? Do I have time to go home and change?"
Joe shook his head. "You can't go."
"I have to Joe!" Methos insisted. "Where is it?"
"Micky was part of the Watcher for nearly fifty years. The funeral is going to be crawling with them." Joe poked Methos in the chest. "And none of them are going to be too happy to see YOU."
"You don't understand, I HAVE to go."
"Why? How did you know Micky?"
*****
***1926-- London, England
Methos gently held his companion's hands. "Stop trembling."
Her cheeks tinged red. She bowed her head. "I'm just so nervous."
"You've done this before."
"I'm always nervous."
"Hey." Methos ran his hand over her cheek. "I'm in on this deal too."
The door opened, and a nun entered the room. "Dr. and Mrs. Marlowe?"
Methos stood up. "Hello." He held out his hand. "I'm Adam Marlowe. This is my wife, Rachel."
"Are you ready to meet him?"
Methos nodded, keeping hold of Rachel's hand. "Bring him in."
The nun escorted a dark-haired boy into the room. He was no more than five. He looked up at the two strangers with wide blue eyes.
Kneeling down in front of the child, Methos smiled. "You must be Michael."
The young child took refuge hiding behind the nun's black skirt.
"Now, now, Micky," the nun cooed. "Dr. and Mrs. Marlowe are good people. They are going to take care of you."
Michael raised his head to look at the Marlowes. "I'm leaving?"
Methos nodded. "You're going to come live with us."
Kneeling down next to the boy, Rachel smiled warmly. "I'd really like to be your mum."
Michael's hand shook as he held it out to Methos. Slowly, Methos accepted it. "Come on, we're going to take good care of you."
*****
"You never mentioned having kids."
"I'm five thousand years old. There's not much I haven't done." Methos slumped down. "Micky wasn't the first. He's the only one that's still al.... The only one from the twentieth century."
Shaking his head, Joe sighed. "Come on, you got time to get a suit on."
Methos raised his head, giving Joe a small smile. "Thanks. This means a lot to me, Dawson."
"Ah, you would've found a way there."
"He's my son," Methos replied, striding out the door. "Of course I would have found a way."
Joe got into the passenger's seat of Methos' car. "How did you do it? Raise a child without him or your wife finding out?"
"Micky and Rachel knew I was immortal." Starting the car, Methos let out a deep sigh. "Rachel always knew. Micky was about twelve when he figured out dad wasn't aging."
"Smart kid." They started driving towards Methos' home. "Were you two close?"
"I'd rather not talk about it. I just want to say goodbye to Micky."
*****
Michael Marlowe's home was an old stone monument in the Northern area of Oxford. It had been in his family for a hundred years now.
Going to the door, Methos waited a moment. He ran his hand over the doorknob, trying to find the courage to go in.
"Methos? You okay?" Joe whispered.
Methos remained completely calm, his face set like it was etched in marble. The immortal just kept running his fingers over the brass doorknob.
*****
***1928-- Oxford, England
Methos was coming up the driveway when he heard a cry of pain. He recognized it immediately. Micky was hurt. Dropping his bag, he broke in a dash towards the house. The small boy was curled up on the porch. His body was wracked with sobs. His tiny hands were covered in deep red blood.
"Micky!" Methos fell to his knees, moving Micky's hands. "What happened?"
"I-I was running. I tried opening the door and--"
Digging in his pocket, Methos produced a hankercheif. He put it to Micky's bloody nose. "Do you want me to check it out?"
Micky wiped the tears from his face as he nodded the affirmative.
Methos moved the cloth, examining Micky's nose. It was just a bloody nose, nothing more. He would be fine. "Hmmm... Well, I think I'm going to have to cut it off."
"Dad!" Micky cried. His eyes became as wide as saucers.
"I'm just teasing you. I prescribe a lesson in learning how to open the door." He dug in his pocket, searching around. He produced a hard candy. He kept several with him, whenever he got fussy child patients. "And this."
Micky took the candy eagerly. "Thanks, Dad."
"Now, you have to be more careful about going into the house. Don't run inside." Methos ruffled Micky's dark brown hair. "Your mum will have a fit."
*****
"Methos, before we go in," Joe held Methos back as he began to open the door. "Just think about it a moment. Do you really want yourself this open to the Watchers?"
"Hell, Joe.... I've got Wyatt on my tail, plus the two Amys back in research. Any more Watchers would be a waste of manpower."
"You don't have to go in there to say good-bye to Micky." Joe looked away from Methos. "Mick didn't want a big deal made. His last wishes were that his friends and family come over for a party. That's it. He doesn't want people to mourn him."
"I'm not here to mourn," Methos opened the door. "I'm here to comfort."
*****
Methos identified every face almost immediately. The living room of the Marlowe home has maybe thirty people in it. Most of them were Watchers, the high-ranking ones. Maybe five or so were Micky's relatives.
His duties as a Watcher kept Micky from having a large family. The few relatives he did had written him off as an eccentric old man.
Methos felt a tingle down his spine. An immortal. "Excuse me, Joe." He went up the large staircase.
A young man approached Joe. He was tall, with handsome features. His light brown hair was long, hanging over his eyes. "Methos. You brought Methos to Michael's funeral."
"Warren." Joe rolled his eyes, shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't bring him. He came."
He sighed, looking at the retreating immortal. "He's 'Doc', isn't he?"
"Excuse me?"
"Long story. Needless to say, it'll fill in the Chronicles a little more."
"Just what in the world are you talking about?"
*****
Methos had so many memories in this house. It was true he had forgotten much of his life, but he could never forget this place.
He went to the last room. He used to sleep in there. He grasped the doorknob, opening it. The buzz in his body grew louder.
A young woman sat on the bed. She was clad in a modest black dress. Her vibrant red hair was swept up in a bun. Her hand rested on a broadsword. "I thought it was you." She looked up. "I didn't know if you would come."
Methos knelt down in front of her, cupping her face. He tilted her chin, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips. He kept his eyes shut, not moving from the spot once they had broken apart. "Of course I came, Rose. Micky was our son."
"I've been numb. Completely numb."
"I understand," he replied, running his thumb over her jawline. "I know how much Micky meant to you. I know how much he meant to me."
"He gave up. He just *gave up*. He hadn't been well for so long.... Then when Jeanette died...."
"Jeanette....."
*****
***1943-- Paris, France
"Don't you look handsome," Rose whispered, straightening Micky's tie. "Very dashing. Exactly like your father."
The young man grinned, brushing Rose's hands away. "Mum, I'm adopted."
"Regardless, I see a lot of similarities." She fixed Micky's boutonniere. She then brushed his hair with her fingers. "Maybe that's one of reasons he loved you so much. You looked like his son."
Looking down, Micky's eyes became suddenly sad. "I thought he would be here. It's my wedding day."
"Oh, Micky...." Rose clutched his hands tightly. "I know he would want to be here. I just don't know if he knows. Your father has avoided battles for a hundred and fifty years."
"Does that mean he has to avoid us?"
"That's not what I meant. It scared him when we got attacked. He was more afraid for your safety than his."
"I'm not a child anymore, Mum. Dad should know I can take care of myself."
"I should go." Rose placed a kiss on Micky's cheek. "Don't want Jeanette thinking your 'friend' is stealing her future husband."
"She knows, Mum." He showed off his freshly tattooed wrist. "We both wear this. We both know of immortals."
Rose smiled again as she stood in the door. "I'm so proud of you."
After a few moments of adjusting his tie in the mirror, Micky noticed a figure climbing in the window. "I thought she would never leave."
Whirling around, Micky's eyes grew wide. "Dad?"
"What? Were you expecting someone else?"
"What-- Why-- How--"
Methos clapped Micky's on the shoulder. "You forgot who, where and when."
"I'm just in shock. What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't miss my son getting married."
"Why didn't you want Mum to see you?"
Methos shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, when I saw her at your graduation, she had a boyfriend. I thought it best not to complicate things."
"I haven't seen you in--"
"Five years. I know, Mick. I've meant to come see you. You're, however, rather high profile these days."
"So you heard?"
Nodding, Methos smiled. "You're watching Darius. He's a good man."
"I know Darius doesn't go anywhere, but I'm still nervous about the assignment."
"You'll do wonderfully." He grew somber, his expression changing from a man of twenty-something, to a father. "I want you to be happy, Mick. Use your time wisely. Don't let Jeanette go. I know you love her."
"How do you--"
"You aren't the only person who can watch." Methos smiled. "I just want you to know.... I never wanted to leave you. I've never been able to stay in one place for long."
Micky hesitantly pulled his father into a hug. He pulled back, wiping a tear away. "I have to go out there. Are you going to stay?"
"I'll watch the ceremony, from a distance. Don't worry.... I won't miss a thing."
*****
"Was it-- Did he--" Methos grasped for the words. "Did he feel any pain?"
Rose shook her head. "His heart gave out. Like I said, he had been sick a long time. His body just couldn't take it anymore."
"Who told you?"
"I was there." Rose replied. "I've been taking care of Micky since Jeanette died. His children think I'm after his money."
"You're kidding."
"Micky thought it was hilarious." Rose said, her voice somewhere between amusement and bitterness. "He didn't leave me one red cent. I told him not to. He left most of it to the Watchers."
"I heard he had amassed quite the fortune." He wrapped his arm around Rose's shoulder. "Why didn't you call me when he got sick?"
"You haven't been great about leaving a forwarding address, Methos."
"Things have been complicated the last couple of years."
"So I've heard. Micky kept in touch with the Watchers. So your cover was blown?"
"I was playing with fire." Methos sighed, looking closely at Rose. "How much have you been crying?"
Rose shook her head. "I haven't."
"I should have been able to tell." He cupped her chin. "You've never been able to hide your tears from me."
*****
***1926, Oxford, England
"I most certainly have NOT been crying." Rose insisted, wiping her cheek. "I was chopping onions...."
Methos wrapped his arms around Rose's waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I know you too well, Rosalyn. I kind of have an edge."
"You wouldn't understand, Methos." She brushed him away.
"Who says I wouldn't? Just talk to me, Rose. Come on, I'm a good listener."
She looked down. "I'm lonely, Methos."
He smiled. "If you want me to move in, all you have to do is ask."
"That's not it. I want to adopt another child."
"So what's stopping you?"
"I can't adopt a child because I'm not married."
Methos pulled back. "Oh. Well that is a problem."
"I've never had this problem before. In the past, I've gone through Darius. But things are so different now. According to the laws, you have to be a happily married couple to adopt."
"So get married."
"To who?" she asked.
"Well.... How about... Me?"
Rose got up. "You. Methos. You said you would never marry an immortal."
"I'm not." He crossed his arms. "When I said I wouldn't marry an immortal, I meant plan to spend every single day for the rest of eternity. Neither of us what that, right?"
"After a decade or so, I can barely stand the sight of you."
"If our current personas marry, it's not us. It's them. Then we can adopt a child."
"You don't have a current persona."
"I'll make one up! Come on, let's get married."
"If you're really offering, okay."
Methos pulled her close, kissing her. After they broke apart, Rose murmured. "So what number does this make me?"
*****
Joe glanced around the room. Most of the faces he recognized as Watchers. He leaned against the wall. This was like no funeral he had ever been at. That was just the way Micky wanted it.
In his early days as a Watcher, Joe had gotten to know Micky well. He always had a smile on his face, and was always willing to buy a pint of beer for his friends. His health was already declining when Joe knew him. But it didn't keep Micky down. He always acted like a kid.
A woman passed Joe, sobbing into a handkerchief. "I can't believe he's gone," she wailed. "I tried to take care of him. He was so stubborn, refused to stay with me. He was becoming senile. He shacked up with that cheap tramp Roberta Morgan. My mother wasn't even cold!"
"What a load of shit," someone muttered. Joe turned, looking for the owner of the mumbled voice.
She was no more than a teenager. Her hair had been dyed black, blonde roots coming in. She had a pair of rose coloured sunglasses on. She wore a men's black sweater, which was impossibly large on her lanky frame. Her legs were clad in fishnet stockings, which were filled with runs.
Joe furrowed his brow. The girl's name was Greta Marlowe. She was one of his apprentices, not yet a full Watcher. She was also Micky's great-niece.
"Excuse me?" Joe asked.
"She," Greta nodded towards the sobbing woman. "Hadn't seen Pops in ten years. She is putting on quite a show. She should know the will can't be changed now." She shook her head. "Some important people here. Make you look like small potatoes, Dawson."
"I'm sorry about Micky, Greta."
Greta shrugged. "It happens. Pops was ready to go."
"If you don't mind me asking.... Who's Roberta Morgan?"
"Didn't you just hear? She's a cheap tramp."
Joe laughed, unconvinced. "Micky wasn't the type to shack up, Greta."
"So you brought the Old Man?" Greta changed the subject, her voice filled with a mocking tone. "You're gonna be in trouble, Dawson."
"He gave me a lift."
"I thought Doc'd find a way here." She nodded, the corner of her mouth curling up.
A young man approached Greta. He took her by the arm. "We have to talk."
"Oh Doug, this is Joseph Dawson, my employer. Dawson, this my brother Douglas Marlowe."
"I'm sorry for your loss, Douglas."
Douglas shook Joe's hand, smiling sadly. "Thank you, Mister Dawson." He turned to Greta, muttering. "Did you know Doc was here?"
"I did." She paused, thinking over Douglas' statement. What do you mean 'was'?"
"He and mum left."
"Is everything all right?" Joe asked.
Greta smiled. "Well, I think you lost your lift. The Old Man just left."
"With your mother. I don't understand."
Exchanging amused looks with Douglas, Greta shook her head. "So it's true. He really doesn't like talking about his past."
*****
Methos opened the door to his apartment. "Mi casa es su casa."
Hesitantly, Rose went in. Shutting the door behind him, Methos went to his liquor cabinet. "Scotch?"
"You know me," she replied, sitting down on the couch. She stretched out. "So what are we going to do? Get really drunk, remembering the times we had with Micky?"
"Is that what you want to do?" Methos asked, handing Rose a glass.
Shaking her head, Rose drank the dark liquid down. "Not really."
"We could settle for just getting drunk." Methos stretched out, golden eyes focused on Rose. "So why did I need to spirit you away so quickly? You were playing hostess to about thirty mourners."
"Most of those people don't realize it's my house. Micky's daughter will be quite surprised when she tries to move in, and finds the lease in my name."
Methos smiled. "How many kids did Micky have? I forget."
"Two. Genevieve and Adam." Rose shook her head. "I didn't think a child I raised could spawn such ungrateful little brats."
"Ohhh... Not to happy, Grandma?"
"I'm not a grandma, Methos. I don't even know how much of a mother I am."
Setting down his glass, Methos crossed his arms over his chest. He narrowed his gaze. "That's bullshit. You are the best mother I have ever met. You have cared for so many children...."
Drinking deeply from her glass, Rose drained the contents. "I took care of them. Being a mother requires loving your children."
"And you're telling me you didn't love them?"
"Certain ones. Some of them I adopted because I was lonely." She took the bottle of Scotch from Methos' hands. Filling her glass to the brim, she drank it down. "Like cats. I adopt children like a crazy old woman adopts cats."
"Darling....."
"Don't." Rose said coldly. "Don't call me Darling like I'm your lover, Old Man. Don't try to tell me that I loved them. Do you remember Greta? You've met her a few times. She's going to turn twenty a few months from now. She's never called me mom. I've always been 'Robbie'. She's wild. Went against my wishes, and is studying to be a Watcher...."
"You didn't have a problem with Micky being a Watcher."
"That was before Horton," Rose said, rummaging around her purse. "Before the tribunal tried to kill Joseph Dawson. Oh yeah, I know everything about the Watchers. Enough of my kids have been connected to the Watchers that I'm kept informed of their activities."
"And kept below their radar." Methos commented. "Rosa, what has made you so cold? You used to have such passion."
"Too much loss. I've been.... Very alone." Rose finally found her cigarettes, putting one between her lips. "This is the first time I've seen Greta in two years. My son Douglas moved to California. He's here for the funeral. He visits at holidays. They're all I have."
Methos pulled the cigarette from her lips. "I thought you quit."
"Yes, because lung cancer is such a worry when you're immortal," Rose said bitterly. "I started again."
"When's the last time you had a relationship?"
"A relationship." Rose ran her tongue over her teeth, trying to find the answer.
Methos sighed, extinguishing the white cylinder he had taken from Rose. "I take it that romance has not been high on your list."
"I went out with an accountant back in.... 1986. I think his name was Eric or Errol. Something like that."
"And when was the last time you went out with a friend?"
Rose sighed. "That depends. When was the last time we went drinking?"
"That's sad, Darling."
"Why don't you have some respect, Old Man?" Rose spat. "I just lost my son!"
"He was my son too, Rosalyn!" Methos shouted. "And I'm just honouring his last wish of me."
"Last wish?" Rose repeated. "I don't understand."
*****
***1990, Watcher Headquarters, Paris, France
Adam Pierson buried his head in his book, pretending to look up information on Methos. He had no real reason to be at the library today. He had no reason to be at the library ever. He was Methos. It was rather silly to research yourself.
He had been using the guise of the young Watcher a little over year now. He had been accepted easily. He seemed to know so much about immortals. Being one helped.
Today, the Watcher library was going to be visited by Michael Marlowe. Marlowe had been with the Watchers for forty-six years. He had watched some of the more well-known immortals. He had also donated a large sum of money to the Watchers after his retirement.
Methos hadn't seen Micky in several decades. He had been in and out of his life. He had kept tabs on him, making sure he was okay. What else would a father do?
He smiled wryly, thinking of himself as Micky's father. As they looked now, Micky could be his grandfather.
The doors to the library opened. A very distinguished man entered, supported by a cane. He moved slowly, led by two young, eager-to-please Watchers, one male, one female.
"This library was restored using the money you donated to us, Mister Marlowe." One of the Watchers said. "You were quite generous."
"I dedicated most of my life to the Watchers, dear boy," Micky replied. "It was the least I could do."
Methos looked up from his book. His hazel eyes locked with Micky's blue ones. The elderly man smiled.
"This is Adam Pierson," the female Watcher said. "He is currently working on the Methos Chronicles."
"Well, I've met this young man before." Methos grew panicked. Micky wouldn't turn him in-- would he? "We had some fine times when he entered the Academy. Smart lad. Would you mind if my friend finishes my tour?"
The two Watchers looked at each other, rather hurt to have their job snatched from them. "You two have done a marvelous job," Micky said, laying on the charm. "But I would like to catch up with my friend."
"Of course, Mister Marlowe." The male Watcher said. The two Watchers made themself scarce. Micky pulled out a chair, groaning as he eased himself in. "I don't think anyone else is in here."
"We were told to stay out of here for your visit. I told the Watchers I had a lead on Methos."
"It's been a long time."
Methos leaned back in his chair. "How have you been doing, Micky? I hear you're not well."
He tapped his heart. "The ticker isn't working like it used to." He shook his head. "I still can't believe it. You don't look a day older."
"Well, you know how it works."
"I've missed you. So has...."
Methos nodded. "I've missed you too. Both of you. I'm sorry I haven't been around as much." He paused. "How is...."
"Lonely. Took in a new one a few years ago. Greta. Beautiful little girl."
"That makes two, right?"
"Yes. Douglas is going to college now. He wants to be a lawyer."
"You know, Micky.... I've settled now. I should come to see you."
"You've never settled for long. I'm used to you coming in and out of my life. I've dealt with it for 65 years." He smiled. "You're researching Methos. Are you--"
"Don't go spreading it around."
"Astonishing." Laughing, Micky leaned on the table. "I did my thesis on Methos."
"I know. I was very proud of that, Micky." Methos put his hand on Micky's shoulder. "I've been proud of all your work."
"Why did you never tell me?"
"You're one of the only people who knows I'm immortal, Micky. Being HIM just adds so many questions."
"Did Mom know?"
"There's not much I kept from your mother."
Micky grew somber. "I'm going to die soon."
Methos felt the tears sting his eyes. "You could live another fifty years, and it would still be too soon for me."
"Mom.... I don't know how she's going to handle it. She's changed. She's lonely. She's kept herself so sequestered. I'm the only person she'll let close. Even Greta and Douglas can't seem to get close."
"Your mother has always been a strange woman."
"How come you keep calling her that? 'Your Mother'."
"I haven't seen your mo-- Rose-- in a long time, Micky." Methos took in a deep breath.
"She misses you. She needs you." Micky's eyes welled with tears. "There's been a spark missing from her ever since you left. I need you to promise to get it back."
"I promise."
*****
"This is one promise you will not be able to fill." Rose said. "I can't. My spark is gone, Old Man. I'm dead inside."
"That's not true, Rose."
"It happens to all of us, Methos!" Rose cried, smashing her hand down on the table. Her glass broke, cutting her hand. The wounds healed instantaneously. "After enough time, we die inside. It becomes only about survival. Do you know who told me that?"
"I was wrong." Methos got off the couch. "You have just forgotten how to show your emotions. Cry. Scream. Get angry. Do something, Rosalyn!"
"I can't bring him back with my tears. Nothing I will do will bring Micky back. Have you cried Methos?"
Methos wrapped his arms around Rose, pulling her close to him. "When Micky was young.... You used to sing to him." He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. "It was a song for your children. You wrote it in 1112, when you adopted Adam."
"You would stand in the doorway, listening...." Rose whispered hoarsely.
"When Micky fell asleep, you and I would go to our room. You lay on the right side." Methos ran his fingers through Rose's hair. "You would cuddle close to me, draping your leg over my hip."
"You would look at me, give me a small smile. Then you would lean close, giving me a kiss."
"Then Micky would come in, wanting to sleep with us."
"He would crawl between us.... He.... He.... Would cuddle to me...." She felt her barriers being to fall. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself.
Tears streaked down Methos' cheeks. He held her tighter. "Cry, Rose. You want to."
"I think I've forgotten how."
*****
The buzz hit Methos and Rose at the same time. They had fallen asleep on the couch together.
Grabbing his sword, Methos went to the door. He opened it, ready to attack.
Amanda strutted in. "Calm down, Methos. I'm not going to hurt you."
Methos went back to Rose, who was getting her sword. "Go into my room, Rose. It's just a common annoyance."
"You sure everything's okay?" she asked.
He nodded. "Go into my room. I'll be there soon."
Rose looked at Amanda, then went off to Methos' room. Methos turned back to Amanda, sword still in hand. "You're much too fond of these late night drop ins, Amanda. What is it?"
"Well, I just picked Joe up. Apparently, you abandoned him at a funeral." Crossing her arms, Amanda sighed. "So, how are you doing, Methos?"
"What makes you think anything is wrong?"
"Joe filled me in on the situation." She gestured to Methos' room. "So, the redhead. She looks familiar."
"You might have met her before," Methos said, putting his sword down.
"It's been a while." Amanda sat down next to Methos. "So I know why you went to the funeral. Why did she?"
"Goodnight Amanda." Methos opened the front door.
Amanda didn't budge. "Is that Rachel? Is that *your wife*?"
"GOODNIGHT AMANDA."
"I just wanted to make sure you're okay. Losing a child is hard. I know." She felt a twinge of regret at the thought of Kenneth.
"I know how to deal." He sighed. "I don't think Rose does."
"You did raise Michael with her." Amanda whispered, smiling. "Do you love her?"
"She's a friend," Methos pulled the door open further. "Please leave."
"Friend in the way I'm MacLeod's friend?"
"Go home, Amanda. I'm not in the mood to get into this." Methos opened the door. "Please. Go."
Getting up, Amanda sighed. "Fine. I was just trying to help." She stopped when get got to the doorway. "If you need to talk...."
"I'll call you."
Methos shut and locked the door after Amanda left. He rubbed his eyes, wandering to his bedroom. Rose looked up at him as he came in.
Stripping, Methos left his clothes in a pile on the floor. Dressed in only in his boxers, he climbed into bed. He laid down. "Get comfortable."
"I should be getting home," Rose whispered.
"No." He sat up. "You've been really upset, and you killed nearly an entire bottle of scotch. You're in no shape to head home." He rose from the bed. "If you're not comfortable.... I can sleep on the couch."
"No. I'll be fine. We shared a bed for ten years." She began to take off her dress. "Do you have something I can sleep in?"
"You won't sleep in the nude?" Methos asked, searching for a t-shirt.
Rose shook her head. "I remember your rule: Don't sleep naked, because you might have to fight naked."
Smiling, Methos handed her a shirt. "But you look better that way than I do."
After changing, Rose laid down on Methos' right. He stroked her arm gently. She moved away, turning her back to him. "Good night, Methos."
Sighing, Methos pulled the covers over them. "Good night, Rose."
*****
Morning's light streamed into the window, nearly blinding Methos as he opened his eyes.
"Dammit all...." He murmured, glancing at the clock. It was nearly seven. He needed to wake up and get to school.
He noticed the bed was empty. He placed a hand on the pillow Rose had slept on. "Rosa?" Rubbing his eyes, he got out of bed. He wandered to the kitchen.
He smiled when he saw her in the at the table, curled up in the hardwood chair. She had dressed in one of his sweatshirts. "Good morning."
"Hello," she whispered, tucking her legs beneath her chin.
"I thought you might have run away."
Rose shook her head. "You're the one that runs away, not me."
"Did I deserve that, Rosalyn?"
She shook her head. "No.... I really shouldn't have--"
"It's okay. Listen, I have to go to work. Are you going to stick around?"
Rose shook her head. "I need to head home. It's not fair for me to leave all the clean up to Greta and Douglas."
"Okay. Call me later." He kissed her forehead. "If you don't, I'm going to come looking."
"I promise, Old Man. Now get going. Don't be late on my account."
****
"One of your damn voyeurs tracked mud all over the carpet!" Douglas sighed, scrub brush in hand.
"Better a voyeur than a shark," Greta commented, cleaning the coffee table. "When do you think Robbie is going to be home?"
Douglas shrugged. "Mum knew Micky for eighty years. I don't think anything has ever hurt her this deep. Doc'll take good care of her. It might be a few days."
The door opened, and Rose came in. "Hey. Sorry I took off."
"Mum." Douglas ran to her, hugging her. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."
"It's my house. Why wouldn't I?"
"Where's Doc?" Greta asked.
"Not here," Rose stated firmly. She picked up a package which lay on the coffee table. "What's this?"
"Genevieve came by," Douglas explained. "It's for you."
Rose opened the box. She pulled out a black notebook. She swallowed hard, pulling out book after book.
Greta looked over Rose's shoulder. "What is it, Robbie?"
"My inheritance."
****
The buzz crawled up Methos' spine. He rose from the couch, sword in hand. There was a soft knock on the door. "Doc, it's me."
Methos sighed in relief. "Rose." He opened the door. "Are you okay?"
"He left us this." Rose thrust the box into Methos' arms.
Methos accepted the box. "What is this?"
"Micky's private diaries. He wanted us to have them." She took a deep breath, shaking her head violently. "Take them. I don't want them." She shifted uncomfortably. "I just came by to give you those. I need to go."
"Why don't you stay with me? We can both read these."
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Old Man. I can't." Her voice was filled with pain.
He set the diaries aside, pulling her close. "Why not? Micky wanted both of us to see these."
"No." Rose pushed Methos away.
"Rose--"
"I tired of this, Methos!" She cried. "We've known each other for hundreds of years? We're together a decade here, a decade there. You always leave in the end." She sighed. "Losing Micky made me realize something. I can't stand losing people. It hurts too much. I don't have the energy anymore. I need to go away from you, Greta, Douglas.... Everyone. I can't stand the thought of losing you guys."
"So this is a pre-emptive strike? What are you going to do, Rosalyn?" Methos grabbed her roughly. "Cut yourself off? You have eternity. You'll go mad if you're all alone." His grip tightened. "I've buried more people than I can count. FIVE THOUSAND YEARS, Rosalyn. That's how long I've had to lose people."
"I know that. Don't throw your age in my face. Now let go of me."
"It's always going to hurt, Rosalyn. But there are things that make it worthwhile. That little bit of time you can spend with a person-- You know how wonderful it can be. It makes the pain of losing them worth it." His voice waiver as he let Rose go. "Ever since I met you, I knew I could trust you. I've depended on you! No matter what happened, I always knew I could turn to you. Don't pull away, Rose. I need you.... And I know you need me."
Gathering her strength, Rose pushed Methos away. "I can't do it anymore, Methos. I just CAN'T. I'm spent."
"This is your grief talking and you know it. I've got a news flash for you, Rosalyn. I'm grieving! He was my son too! The only person I want to turn to is you. You're the only one who understands exactly how I'm feeling."
"No I don't understand. If you remember, you abandoned Micky and me."
"I was being hunted by an immortal!" Methos gritted his teeth. "I left so you and Micky wouldn't get hurt."
"You could have just killed the bastard! You wanted a way out and that 'old friend' gave you an excuse. It's too much, Methos. I don't want to hurt anymore. I can't be with people."
"Fine." He picked his sword back up, pressing it to Rose's delicate neck.
She gasped, "What are you doing?"
"If you can't do it," Methos said calmly, pushing the blade closer. "Tell me to take your head."
"Methos...." Rose trembled.
"I know what it's like to lose passion, Rosalyn. Your passion is what drew me to you all those years ago. Now tell me: What am I suppose to do?"
Rose shut her eyes. A single tear ran down her face as Methos prepare to strike. As he brought the sword down, he stopped. "Go," he hissed.
She opened her eyes. "What?"
He threw the sword aside. "You should know by now I could never--" He grit his teeth, turning away. "Just leave, Rosalyn. Before I change my mind."
****
Amanda opened the scotch, pouring half a glass of the amber liquid. "So you called me. You need help. Is it just pouring you drinks?" She cocked her head. "Can I know what I'm helping with?"
"I've been around five thousand years. And I still don't understand how some of us lose it." He drank down the scotch. "They can't stand the idea of forever and they forget how to live." He shook his head. "I never thought that Rose would be one of them."
"Oh, this is about your wife."
"She's not my wife Amanda." Methos shook his head, pouring himself another drink. "I can't even call her my friend anymore. Nothing I said did anything. She's so dead inside.... It wouldn't surprise me if she got herself killed."
The buzz took over, Methos and Amanda grabbed their swords. Methos got up, flinging open the front door. Rose was standing there, trembling. "Methos.... I-I know usually I'm the one that takes in strays but...."
Methos pulled her into an embrace before she could finish. Her tears began to flow. He held her, just letting her cry.
****
April 1, 2001
Dear Em,
These last few days, I've been thinking about mortality and eternity. After living as long as I have, you sometimes forget. It becomes an abstract concept that you just want to ignore. I don't want to know how people feel about it.
Micky was special. I've adopted kids before, but Micky actually knew the score. Before I've had to leave my children before they could discover who I truly was. True I wasn't always around, but I watched Micky. I got to see him up until his declining years. It became so hard. To see the child I had raised with Rosalyn become an old man.
I don't feel sadness towards the lose of Micky. He saw death as a way to join Jeanette. He wrote in his journals, speaking of the love of his life. How he knew they would be together "on the other side". He believed in heaven. I don't know where he got that from. Sure as hell wasn't me or Rosalyn.
I'm not quite sure to do with Rosalyn now. All she can see is eternity stretching out before her. I need to convince her we don't have forever. Someday someone's going to be a better fighter and it'll be over. No matter how it happens, everything dies in the end. I just need to make her live until that time comes.
~The Old Man~
****
Lady Madonna, children at your feet.
Wonder how you manage to make ends meet.
Who finds the money? When you pay the rent?
Did you think that money was heaven sent?
--Lady Madonna (John Lennon/Paul MacCartney)
****
Next time on "The Methos Chronicles": Towa no Mirai [Eternal Future]
Methos must decide between self-preservation and saving a friend when a mutual enemy comes to Oxford.
Episode Three: Towa no Mirai [Eternal Future]