The next part of the story. Excerpts from TTIJ, chapter 11...
Methos wouldn’t open the door even though Duncan
was pounding on it. "Methos open up!" He
commanded.
Mac could feel someone inside, but no sounds were
heard. Finally he got tired of waiting and kicked
it in.
Methos was standing in the middle of the room with
the Ivanhoe sword pointing at Duncan. He eyes
looked glazed over and he was wearing only shorts
as sweat poured down his face.
"Methos, put down your sword unless your
challenging me." Said Mac in a warning tone.
Methos smiled a little, "Then I guess I’m
challenging you."
"I’m not accepting then, you can wait for the
Gathering." He insisted, taking a tentative step
inside and closing the door behind him.
"I’m not going." Methos replied with conviction,
but his quivering lip betrayed the emotions at war
in him.
Walking slowly towards him, Mac reached out and
took his sword from his grasp, releved that Methos
had no intention of fighting him.
Mac said gently, "Can we talk about it then?"
Methos broke down showing his fear. "I'm not going
to the Gathering. So you can just turn around and
leave."
"I can't leave because I promised Joe that I would
bring you along. He needs to see us." Said Duncan,
leaning the sword against the wall near the
bedroom door.
"Maybe I don't want to see him." Methos said even
more determination. He went to the
little kitchen and poured a drink of cold water,
feeling it calm the fire of fear he was consumed
with. Wiping his eyes, he refused to look at
MacLeod.
"Please get dressed Methos. You can tell Joe
yourself why you don't want to see him." Duncan
said, refusing to let Methos test his patience.
Methos looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded
his head. "All right, it's the least I can do."
"Good." Mac smiled, "I'm glad you changed your
mind. It's easier than carrying you."
Methos growled a little going to his bedroom,
snatching up his sword as he entered and closing
the door with a thud.
Methos went to the closet and picked out some
clothes, tossing a sweater and a pair of pants on
the bed, he quickly stashed the sword inside and
shut the wardrobe door.
Getting partially dressed, he went back into the
front room asking MacLeod, "You seem to be in a huff this morning. Something happen that I should know about?"
Mac told him, "Last night I had two Immortals
trying to kill me. One right after the other. I
believe it was under direct orders of the Watcher
President." Standing in the doorway he crossed his
arms watching for Methos's reaction to these
accusations of betrayal.
"They said that because of me four Watchers died.
That Ahriman was just a fable. Now I have my proof
that Watchers are ordering the death of Immortals.
And you know this is more than just interfering in
the Game."
He hesitated looking at his old friend sitting on
the couch with an expression of disbelief. Mac
said, "They were going to kill Abreana too."
Methos looked at him in despair, "This should have
never happened. Everything I studied on the
Watchers when I was with them showed me that they
were an organization with honor and pride in their
historical records."
Duncan agreed, "They used to be, but not anymore.
And I'll tell you right now that two quickening in
one night was almost too much for me."
"Is that when you heard the call?" Methos asked him,while tucking the white T-shirt in and zipping his pants up.
Duncan nodded, "Yes it was and it was very loud
and unpleasant."
"Well I'm not going to attend the Gathering." Said
Methos with a look of defiance.
"We have to go Methos, It's who we are. Immortals
fighting evil." He insisted, then going over to the couch where Methos was sitting.
"Mac, they'll have us fighting each other until
we're all dead." He tugged the sweater over his
head, making his hair, in fact, neater. "All but
one." Then he leaned back on the couch, crossing
his arms.
Mac began to reason with him. "You probably know
more about the Game than I do. But I do know this,
when I heard the summons, I knew that I would be there."
"I'm too old. I always thought it was fable, never
fact." He stared past Mac, his eyes looking lost.
Sitting down on the worn couch next to Methos he
asked, "Did you ever meet the Grand Immortal?"
Methos answered quietly, "Yes, once about 50 years
ago."
"Then he would be the one to see about this
Gathering." Mac said, putting his hands together.
"What could he know that I don't?" Said Methos,
angry at Mac's suggestion.
Exasperated, Mac told him, "Methos, you may be old
and wise, somewhat, but the Grand Immortal has an
insight that we don't have. He can tell us more
about the Gathering."
Methos put his head in his hands and thought about
what Mac was saying. "Maybe you're right." Looking
around his small apartment, he no longer felt
safe. His eyes stopped on a painting he did a few
years ago.
"Who painted it?" Mac asked, seeing where Methos
was looking.
"I did of course." Answered Methos. "Didn’t you
know I was an artist?"
Mac replied, "It's a very good painting of us, but
I have to question the Freudian significance of us
dueling."
Methos explained, sitting back, "There’s nothing
Freudian about it. We’ve occasionally had our
little fights and this just represents one of
them."
Mac went to study the picture more closely then
commented, "You’ve captured the expressions quiet
well. The storm in the background is very
effective."
Methos sneered, "Aren’t you the Art Critic. I
painted it just to amuse myself nothing more."
"I'm just explaining why I think it's very good."
Replied Mac, feeling irked by Methos's attitude.
Methos got up and went to the painting on the
wall, taking hold, he yanked it off the hook.
"Take it then!"
Both men saw the small listening device that fell
off the frame. Mac picked it up and shook his
head. Next he smashed it under his foot.
"Well, now they know everything we've said."
Methos intoned.
Going over to put his shoes on, he glanced at Mac
who was still inspecting the painting as he placed
it back on the hook.
Methos picked up the summons he found tacked to
the door last night, it read;
Adam Pierson, you are ordered to report to Watcher
headquarters tomorrow for debriefing and
reassignment. Sign, Joshua Gibbons
He wondered what they wanted from him and how he
could turn this whole bloody mess around. "I guess
I’m ready, we should go." Pocketing the paper and
putting on his coat, he made for the door.
Inspecting the door lock, Mac said, "It can’t be
fixed."
"You shouldn’t have kicked it in." Methos pointed
out, bending down to look at it.
"Then you should have opened it." Mac countered
with, standing up and glaring at him.
"It doesn’t matter anyway, why do you have to
argue with me." Replied Methos as he went out the
door.
"I’m not arguing, I’m stating out the facts." Said
MacLeod, following him and shutting the door.
He failed to notice that Methos left his beloved
Ivanhoe sword behind, stashed in the bedroom closet.
Posted on Jul 23, 1999, 8:41 PM from IP address 208.254.109.174