The lovely thing about being unconscious is that you don't screw anything up further by speaking...I think the body recognizes this, and that is why it goes into neutral every now and again. And, realizing that it was the right move for my body to make, I kept mum even as I was coming to, and, wisely enough for me (who has no track record to speak of) I listened to them speak as Methos knelt to bring me around.
"So what was this interesting thing she had to say?"
"It involves a dead Watcher...and...a virus."
"Was the Watcher hers?"
Who was more staggered, me, to realize that Methos is well aware of the Watchers, or Dawson, to find out that I'm an *Immortal* who happens to know their little secret. Fat lot of good they're doing, keeping it secret, at this rate.
"That would...."
Before Dawson could get out the "makes sense," (which it doesn't, really), I elected truthfulness. It's kind of underrated. But sometimes it even works.
"He was," I said, struggling up a bit. And then I made a fatal error. I looked into Methos' eyes, and swallowed hard. Very pretty eyes, he has...(I really must do something about this, I warned myself.) I shook off the momentary return of swooniness. "I was his assignment, and I'm partially to blame for his death."
"How the hell could that be?" Dawson asked. I guessed it wasn't as obvious to him as it was to me.
"I said he died of a virus?" I began. Nada. "And then the place was torched?" Zip. I was getting a little frustrated. I cop to murder, and I get nothing but blank looks. "Look, didn't Richardson report to you or something? Do you know what I did?"
A look registered on Dawson's face, as if he couldn't quite match my face to the story before, but now he certainly did. He checked the notebook I had placed on the bar.
"That...was yours? We thought Richardson was crazy. You didn't seem to be the type."
"Joe?" Methos asked, as if he didn't like what was coming next.
"Imagine I was the type. Imagine I was asked to do something unthinkable, and that I did," I said. "Imagine someone having the kind of influence on me where I would relinquish that kind of power." I smiled, weakly. "And now, imagine that it's coming back to haunt me."
"She isn't talking about.."
Dawson nodded. "Kronos' virus. It was her creation."
Posted on May 30, 1999, 9:35 PM from IP address 216.164.249.137