Having worked through since the early hours of the morning Catriona had regained a semblance of calm and detachment by the time she had to meet Janet.
Janet had greeted her warmly and enquired about her evening with Duncan. She had been pleased with their discussions regarding course funding and impressed at the preparations Catriona had already made with the library staff for course readings. Satisfied that she had no need to worry about Catriona and her organisational capabilities she had cut short the meeting and invited her to lunch.
Catriona had demurred, saying she had a previous appointment but promising to keep a slot in her diary for lunch in the following week. On leaving Janet she had returned to her apartment feeling restless. She knew she needed to do something to alleviate the antagonism she had felt from Duncan when she had left the loft the night before. She also knew that there was another person who would want to speak to her urgently. She felt she could not put off a visit to Joe. She needed to apologise one again for disrupting his performance. She was certain that there would be other things they would need to discuss and she sensed that the sooner all the cards were on the table the better it would be. Decision made, she looked in the phone book for his address and then called a cab
Methos arrived back as Joe was starting breakfast, though given how late it was brunch would have been a better description. He looked at Methos, taking in the whiteness of his face and his dishevelled appearance.
"Good God man! Where the hell have you been?" He queried anxiously.
"Walking." Methos said. He looked as though he were barely able to gather enough energy to speak. He was dripping and his hair hung over his face.
"Shower! Now Methos and don't say another word." Joe ordered.
Blinking slightly at the paternal tone in Joe's voice Methos acquiesced. He didn't have the energy to argue with Joe and he needed a shower to warm him. He felt cold to the very marrow. He just wished it were possible for any shower to wash away the sick sense of squalor from his soul. His thoughts were disordered as he tried to focus on a sense of himself that did not fill him with disgust.
As he stood under the steaming shower he began to feel less frozen physically. The shard of ice in his heart, however, was impervious to any external attempts to thaw it. Shaking his head to clear it as best he could, he dried and dressed himself and hauled his body back to the kitchen where Joe was waiting. Real coffee, eggs and pancakes were ready and waiting on the table but Methos' stomach churned at the thought of food.
Sinking into a chair he drank the coffee gratefully, closing his eyes in acknowledgement of the warmth and richness of it. He could not, however, dredge up any enthusiasm for breakfast despite all Joe's pleas.
"You need to eat Methos. You look like shit, seriously so, and you are way too thin even for you. When was the last time you ate a proper meal?"
"Don't push it Joe." Methos warned. "I eat plenty when the urge is on me. Right now though the very idea of food makes me nauseous. Just leave it OK?"
Joe was not satisfied but didn't know what else he could do except wait for Methos to surface from whatever deep hole he was in. He'd seen it before, after Alexa died and even more so after the Horsemen. Remembering how he'd withdrawn into his shell following the deaths of Caspian, Kronos and Silas and the shared quickening with Mac, he knew he'd have to bide his time. When Methos was ready he would open up, until then there was little he could do except be there.
"Sure Methos, whatever you say." Was all the reply he offered. "But you should at least get some sleep. It doesn't look like you got any last night."
Nor for many nights over many weeks before that Methos realised. In truth he spent time avoiding sleeping as much as possible of late since he rarely managed any more than an hour before the nightmares struck.
"Your concern does you credit Joe, but really I am fine. I don't need looking after."
"Oh sure and I am Elvis." Snorted Joe. "God Methos! Have you looked in the mirror lately?"
"I don't need to look in the mirror Joe. I know enough of what I look like after five thousand years never to need to look in the mirror again."
Somehow, from the bitter tone in his voice, Joe didn't think that Methos was just talking about external looks here. He sounded edgy, worn down,defeated , he'd almost go that far. Suddenly he was nervous, not for himself but for this man for whom he'd grown to have a great deal of respect. He hadn't ever seen him so detached from life, and that included after Alexa and after Bordeaux. That realisation made Joe fear for Methos' safety. In this sort of mood he knew he was unpredictable.
Under less stress than he seemed to be living with now, Methos had offered Duncan his head in order to help him defeat Kalas. Later, after the Horsemen had been defeated, he had taken a much more active role in The Game and seemed to have little care for his own safety or chances of surviving the challenges he had undertaken. Joe had thought that, with the air now much clearer between Methos and Mac that all this was over. Now it seemed he was wrong. Suddenly the frail and vulnerable young man he'd seen the night before looked even more frail and weighed down by the cares of five thousand years. 'Shit ' He thought. 'Just what I need on my hands, a depressed, suicidal, immortal.'
Before he was able to dwell on this thought further the door bell rang. Methos seemed not to notice, he merely sat hunched over his coffee - eyes still closed, skin beginning to lose the healthy pink flush left over from the shower.
With a sigh Joe hauled himself to his feet, grabbing his cane he walked to the door and opened it. Of all the people he had expected to see Catriona MacLeod was not the first that sprang to mind. He realised that he was staring at her open mouthed. Giving himself a mental shake he shut his mouth quickly.
Catriona was looking at him nervously. Her face was pale and there were dark rings under her eyes. She didn't look a whole lot better than Methos did Joe realised.
"I didn't expect to see you here." Was all he could manage.
"Erm, no, I ....well actually, I rather thought that you wanted to talk to me and I didn't think the bar was the best place, so I got your address from the phone book and came over. If it's not convenient I can make an appointment for another time." Catriona faltered, twisting her hands together as she spoke.
Joe regarded her carefully. She looked very small, shy and nervous all of a sudden. His paternal instinct already to the fore due to his concern over Methos prompted him to relax his grip on the door.
"You'd better come in out of the rain." He said, stepping back to allow her access.
Catriona moved in to the hallway but made no effort to go further. She looked at Joe expectantly, obviously waiting for him to make the next move.
"Take off your coat and come through, we're in the kitchen." He indicated the rack, closing the door whilst she deposited her coat and then led the way.
When they reached the kitchen Methos was no longer there. His cup was empty, Joe noticed, but the food on his plate was still untouched. Catriona took in the scene and shot Joe an apologetic look.
"I didn't realise I was interrupting a meal. I can always come back later." She said.
"No, no. I don't think much more eating was going on here anyhow." Joe said distractedly. "Damn. Now where is he?"
"Methos?" Catriona asked.
"Who else?" Joe snapped, instantly regretting it.
Catriona flinched a little but undeterred she replied. "He's on the back porch steps watching the rain."
Joe went to the screen door and looked through. It was difficult to see anything in the dismal light but he did eventually spot Methos sitting just as Catriona had described, half way down the porch steps, knees up, arms wrapped around them, staring out across the yard. The rain was heavier now and where Methos sat offered no shelter.
"God! What the hell does he think he's doing? He only just got dry." Joe muttered under his breath.
He opened the door and went out onto the deck, followed by Catriona.
"Methos! For God's sake! Didn't you get wet enough earlier? Come inside in the dry." Joe's tone was firm but Methos appeared no to hear.
"Methos?" Joe's concern grew and he walked to the top of the steps. "Look at you, what are you doing here?" Joe asked as he tried to keep under cover. "Are you going to sit there all day?"
This last question apparently registered as Methos began to move. His reaction was not at all what Joe had expected, however. Methos crouched down on the step where he had been sitting, his arms raised to cover his head as if to protect himself from something. 'Not the rain' Joe thought.
To Catriona it looked for all the world as if he were trying to ward off blows. She was about to speak when Joe beat there to it.
"You can't stay there. Come on." He held out his hand.
The effect of this last was startling to both onlookers. Methos leaped to his feet and scuttled away from the steps toward the fence where he stopped, once again crouching and covering his head, whimpering and rocking back and forth.
Joe stood, arm still outstretched, staring at Methos as if he'd never seen him before. "What the hell?" He said. Dropping his arm he looked at Catriona. "What do you know about this?" He asked.
"I'm not sure Joe. He's obviously not aware of where he is and who he's with, but if you want to know if I had anything to do with it the answer's no."
"So. But if you know so much about him at least tell me where the hell he thinks he is and how we snap him out of it!" Joe countered.
"I could do that, I could read his mind, but somehow I think less invasive methods are called for here." So saying she walked slowly toward the still quaking form of Methos. Joe followed.
Crouching down beside Methos, seemingly oblivious to the mud and wet grass and careful not to touch him she tried to reach the distraught immortal with her voice - unsure whether she could succeed where Joe had failed.
"Methos? Can you hear me?" She said, projecting her voice into his consciousness as far as she dared. There was no answer and no change in his position. Joe made to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Don't touch him Joe." Catriona said, not taking her eyes from the figure crouched before her.
"I only wanted to comfort him." Joe said.
"I know, but since he doesn't seem to hear us any touch now may trigger a different response from the one intended. Please wait." Catriona begged. She resumed speaking to Methos, trying other of his identities to see if one would register.
"Meli-mateos?" No response. "Nicos?" Still nothing. "Metellus? Doc? John?"
"This is hopeless." Joe was frowning.
"Not yet, patience Joe." She looked again at Methos. "There are more yet."
"What do you mean more?"
"Oh come on Joe. More identities Methos has used. One of them will register, it's just a matter of finding the right one." She tried again. " Ailric?" Nothing.
"Michel?" She tried. The rocking stopped and he raised his head warily.
'Bingo' she thought.
"Michel Legrand?"
Methos blinked and nodded and looked warily at Joe - and even more warily at his stick. He whispered "Oui, Je suis Michel. comment tu t'appelle?"
"Je m'appelle Catriona." She replied. "Michel, il est tres froid ici n'est-ce-pas?"
"Parler vous Anglais?" She ventured.
Again a hesitant nod. He still hadn't moved form his crouched position.
"Michel, it is cold and wet. There is shelter in the house. We should go inside and get dry." She indicated the house, still careful not to touch him.
"We can't go inside, the guards..." He looked at Joe and flinched slightly.
"No Michel, there are no more guards. This man is a friend, don't you recognise him?"
He looked at Joe carefully. "I'm not certain, maybe. He has a stick." He observed
"To aid him in walking Michel, nothing more I promise you."
Throughout this exchange Joe had been standing scowling at Catriona. He realised that she had managed to coax Methos into some awareness of his surroundings, but that he should not recognise Joe as a friend disturbed him more than he could say. He wanted to speak to Methos, to reassure him, but he didn't know what he could say to the terrified, shivering figure who cowered on his back lawn. He looked at Catriona for guidance but she was still focused on Methos. So he continued to stand there, trying not to look threatening and hoping like hell that they could get out of the rain sometime soon.
"Michel? Will you come inside?"
"Not yet," he whispered, "I must find the boys."
"Which boys Michel? Who are you looking for?" Catriona asked.
"David, I must find him, and Tobias. They took them from me. Help me find them"
"Michel. David and Tobias died." Catriona said as gently as she could. "They died Michel. You did all you could for them."
"No! Not enough. I should have buried them. kept them from Kramer and Klein. Help me find them please!"
The last request was heart rending. Methos was on his knees, tears rolling down his face, arms held out in supplication.
Catriona cursed softly under her breath. "Michel. Look at me. Look around you. Do you know where you are?"
"Belsen, camp no 1." Methos replied without hesitation.
Joe caught his breath at that but he didn't dare move for fear of startling the man who resembled nothing so much as a drowned rat
"No Michel, that was fifty two years ago. You are in Seacouver. Don't you remember?"
"Seacouver?" Methos said the name as if it were new to him, but he did look around him more closely. Then for the first time he asked a question. "What year is it?"
"It's August 24th 1997."
Methos' shoulders sagged and his head dropped. "I was too late to save them," he whispered, " too late to keep them alive and too late to keep them from harm even after death."
"I know Methos," she said , emphasising the name, "but you tried , you did what you could, more than any one else did for them. You mustn't blame yourself."
Catriona was desperate to get Methos to acknowledge this fact and to get him out of the rain. Her own teeth were chattering and Joe was no better off then she was.
Joe decided he'd had enough of the rain. he needed to move now or he mightn't manage it soon.
"I have to go inside." He said to Catriona. " Do you think it would help if I call MacLeod?"
Catriona closed her eyes and bit her lip, but this wasn't about her, she'd have to face Duncan sooner of later and right now Methos needed all the friends around him he could muster.
"Yes Joe, good idea. Call Duncan. I'll stay here and try to get Methos to come inside."
Nodding at that, Joe walked stiffly back into the house. Picking up the phone he dialled Macleod's number. The phone was answered on the first ring.
"MacLeod."
"Mac. I need you to come over right away."
"Problem Joe?"
"Uh. Yes you could say that. It's Methos."
"What about him?" Duncan asked. "He's still there isn't he?"
"His physical body is out in the middle of my backyard, where the rest of him is I couldn't be certain right now. Belsen seems as good a guess as any. Catriona is trying to get him to come in."
"Catriona! I might have known. What the hell does she think she is playing at? No never mind Joe. I am coming right away." There was a click as Duncan hung up.
'Great, now he thinks this is Catriona's fault, nice going old man.' Joe thought. he ran his hand across his face, deciding to change into dry, warm clothing and make some fresh coffee whilst he waited for Duncan to arrive and for Catriona to get through to Methos.
Meanwhile, in the garden, Catriona was still trying to coax Methos back into the house.
"Come on Methos. It's too wet to stay out here. We can discuss things better inside in the warm."
"I didn't do enough. I always fail. You should stay away from me. Everyone who gets close to me ends up dead or worse."
Methos was gasping as he spoke, his emotions seemingly making it hard for him to draw breath
"Stop that!" Catriona said sternly. "You just stop that now."
Methos stopped speaking and looked at her as if she had slapped him.
"Now you listen to me Methos. You were not to blame for what happened in that camp. Not for what happened to Tobias and David, nor to anyone else. The blame for that lies with men like Kramer and Klein. You had no part of it . Do you understand?"
But Methos had lost focus again and was sitting in the position he had been in when she had first seen him on the porch. He began to sob uncontrollably. Catriona couldn't stand it any longer. He needed comfort and all she could offer was a hug. It was little enough to ask. Swallowing hard she knelt next to him and put her arms around him. pressing her forehead to his temple she tried to soothe him.
"Hush now Methos, it's not your fault, shhhh it's all right." She held him, stroking his wet hair and rocking him as a mother would a small child. He clung to her as if she were all that held him to life. Unconsciously she began to hum . Not a tune she knew, but the lullaby Methos had sung to Tobias and David all those years before. Now, as than, the effect was soothing and Methos'' sobs lessened as he subsided into sleep. She continued humming and rocking Methos as Duncan and Joe cam out of the house together under cover of an umbrella.
"What a pretty picture." Duncan said sarcastically.
She looked up at him. "Now isn't the time for an argument Duncan, help me get him inside out of the rain. You can blast me all you like later, once he's warm and dry again."
Pursing his lips Duncan surrendered the umbrella to Joe.
"I think I can manage to carry him without your help thank you."
Sighing, Catriona released her hold on Methos and let Duncan lift him. Cradling him against his chest he easily carried Methos' light frame back into the house.
"I am sorry." Joe said as they followed the two immortals. "He has got it into hi head that you did something to Methos and he won't listen to me."
"It doesn't matter Joe. Nothing matters except that Methos is safe and that I keep my promise to him. It's really nothing new you know."
"What isn't?" Joe asked.
"Me not getting on well with someone. I don't relate well to people in the raw." Catriona said.
Joe noted the edge of bitterness in her voice and the drawn, strained look on her face.
"But Duncan said you teach."
"Yes. so?"
"So you spend a lot of time relating to people. You must have some skill at it. Your resume wouldn't read like it does otherwise." He mentally kicked himself for giving away that he knew so much of her background but she seemed to shrug that off.
She laughed ironically. "Controlled environment Joe. When I am teaching I am in control of the situation. I am like an actor, give me a script and I am happy, I am fine. I just don't do quite so well in improvised settings."
They reached the house to find that Duncan had managed to strip Methos of wet clothing, dry and redress him. He had laid him on the bed in Joe's spare room and was now sitting watching him as he slept. The thin face still looked white and drawn, but the stark fear that had been there earlier was gone Joe noted.
"I'll stay here with him until he wakes up and then we'll see what's going on." Duncan said.
Joe nodded. "Catriona and I need to talk. We'll be in the lounge if you need us."
Ignoring the sour look Duncan threw in her direction Catriona followed Joe out of the room, somewhat reassured that Methos was still sleeping.
"Coffee?" Joe asked as they entered the lounge.
"Thanks." Catriona said gratefully. She looked around, trying to decide where to sit, then concluding that someone as wet as she was shouldn't sit on any of the easy chairs she followed Joe into the kitchen.
'May as well get this over and done with now' she thought as she perched on the edge of a stool. "OK Joe, you may as well start now." She said. "You were going to give me some spiel about the watchers I believe."
"How the hell did you know that?" Joe asked, startled.
""It's what you do isn't it? In case you forgot this fact Joe let me remind you that I had a life altering experience at your bar last night. Thanks to that I now know not only everything about Methos but also all about his shared past with you and with Duncan. Given that and the fact that it's rather written across your face like a telegram right now, along with the fact that you are unsure where or how to begin..well I thought I'd save you the trouble of explanations and pitch right in."
"Well since you put it that way, is there any need for me to actually say anything? I mean, if you know what I an going to ask you couldn't we just cut to the chase?" Joe looked questioningly at her.
"I suppose that would be the best option." Catriona acknowledged. "However, I have a question."
"Yes?"
"What happens if I decline your more than kind offer to join the watchers?"
"Nothing. Oh I could ask you to make a promise not to divulge what you know, but I seem to remember that you already did that yesterday in front of witnesses."
"Indeed I did, and it holds good for everything I know about watchers and immortals in general and not just about Methos specifically."
"Do I take it that you are going to turn me down Catriona?" Joe asked. "It would be a shame if that was the case. Just think, we could finally get a Methos researcher who could give us chapter and verse on all the missing years."
"I know that Joe, and I suppose it would be like finding the Rosetta Stone. The only problem with that would be that I made a promise to Methos not to reveal his past to anyone but him as and when he decides he wants to know. What he chooses to do with any information he gets from me is entirely up to him, but you must see it would be impossible for me to keep my promise to him and to work for you. So I'm sorry Joe but I am turning you down. "She shivered suddenly as a trickle of water ran down the back of her neck and Joe realised that she was the only one still wearing wet clothes.
"What is the matter with me?" He said. "Catriona you should get out of those wet things. Take a shower and I'll find you some spare clothes. I am afraid underwear is out of my league but I can manage sweat pants and a sweater at least. It won't take me long to dry out your clothes."
Catriona found herself ushered towards the bathroom, coffee still in hand, and with no chance of further protests dry clothing was found and she was left alone.
'Come on Catriona, no one is threatening you here. Joe's just trying to be nice. Relax' she told herself. Turning on the shower she piled her wet clothes up on a chair and climbed in. The heat gradually eased her tense muscles and warmed them. She realised that she was bone weary. She still hadn't had more than six hours sleep in the past four days. Sighing deeply she left the shower and dried herself vigorously, hoping to stimulate her body into a state of wakefulness. Then she shrugged into the oversized spare clothing and padded back into the kitchen.
Joe took her wet clothing form her and placed in the dryer before handing her more coffee and steering her back into the lounge.
"Sit. Get comfy. Relax a bit. Methos is still asleep. I think you should be here when he wakes up. just in case."
"I don't think Duncan would agree with you Joe, but right now I don't have the energy to do anything else..besides my clothes are hostage in your dryer..I'll stay at least until they are dry."
Joe took in her pinched features. "Having trouble sleeping are you?" he asked.
"Catriona stared at him, then nodded.
"Thought so..Methos is too if I'm any judge..the last time he looked as bad as this he hadn't slept for at least a week. If you want to take the time to catch some sleep now be my guest..I have work to do and no one will disturb you."
He rose and left the room. Catriona was sure that despite her fatigue she would be unable to sleep. but before long she was slumbering soundly and for once she had no dreams to disturb her.