Okay. I know how far-fetched that might sound, especially coming from me. And I don't know how much credit I would give a thing like that, myself. Except for the way Akkasur had talked about me before I killed him. Except for the way killing him seemed completely natural, and the way even I was convinced when I did it that I was following through on her business.
It creeped me out. And there you have it--yet another reason why staying around Methos was becoming unbearable. It would be too easy for me to, I don't know, forget who I was. There's this tendency I have to let myself be what people want me to be--I tried really hard to be what Steve wanted me to be (a good wife, one who doesn't kill people), and what my family wanted me to be (a front, usng my brains for their business), and what Kronos wanted me to be (a weapon, coming to Seacouver to follow through on a revenge promise, however slender my hopes of success. And what would I have been for Methos?
How the hell should I know? It wasn't like he ever said in so many words what he expected, but I couldn't stand the idea of him having any expectations. I couldn't be *her*--and the scariest part of all is--
Now that I don't have Steve, or my family, or whatever I promised to Kronos, or Methos to define who I am--I don't really know how to be me. So, in other words--I looked Duncan MacLeod dead square in the eyes and lied my tochis off. And, since you're probably wondering--yes, he is the only person I've ever been able to successfully do that to. But when he heard me say I knew who I was, he seemed to relax.
"You're...sure? Because he made it sound as if you were..."
Yep. I stood there, ready to say anything but the truth. I was going to say that Methos was over-reacting, and just continue the game, but it didn't quite work out that way. "Going out of my mind?" I said, finishing his sentence, but I could hear the catch in my voice, and he certainly could hear it, and I knew I was going to end up spilling all of it. My mouth worked, as I tried to figure out what to say next, but a wave of uncertainty so huge it nearly killed me hit, and I thought I was going to lose it. I must have looked that way.
"Genevieve, take a breath..."
"Duncan, I think I am losing my mind. Oh my god, I don't know who the hell I am," I managed.
I thought I would get this look of, I don't know--disbelief or pity, or, something worse, but the strangest thing happened. He looked like he knew what I was talking about. That made me actually lose it, and I could feel tears starting.
"Come on," he said, touching my face and knocking off a tear, which was, now that I think about it, exactly what a man should do in that situation, "tell me about it. You have to talk to someone."
And despite the urge to step back and clam up and make him leave, I just...couldn't. I took a breath, and let him lead me to my couch.
Posted on Apr 17, 2000, 5:45 PM from IP address 152.169.170.229