"I know," Dawson said, simply. Methos shrugged in a way that told me not to ask. "Go on."
I shook my head. "I don't have enough of the details. It must go back to...whatever Kronos did to get himself killed. That's the only way I imagine anyone else could have gotten their hands on it...the virus, I mean." I looked down. "Watchers must have been part of the clean-up crew. His body...the data, the sample if he ever bothered synthesizing it..." I could feel my eyes welling up.
"If he ever bothered?" Methos said, temper coloring his voice. I realized, a bit late, that he was there. He had to have been. It was for his benefit, after all...
I sighed. "He never made it clear to me what he intended to do with it." I went no further.
But the rage was there, and continued. "He was mad. He wanted to bring the world to its knees...Do you know what he was? Do you have any idea?"
"Of course I knew what he was." And at this point I could give a rat's rectum what the Watcher knew. "I know what you are, too, Methos. Not too different. Or at least, you weren't. Once. But you better understand...what he was, past tense, never mattered to me. What mattered was..."
And then the steel-trap of the stupidity of it all closed on me. What mattered is I fell for him. I had felt something for him I couldn't explain. I flat-out had been thinking with the wrong body-part. What mattered was having him in my bed. And that, in the cold light of day, was pretty awful.
"She's young, Methos," Dawson eventually said. "Give it a rest."
Posted on May 31, 1999, 11:35 PM from IP address 209.122.217.100