Methos arrived at Joe's house feeling drained and wanting nothing so much as to curl up and sleep for a week. Somehow he doubted it was going to be an option. Sighing he switched off the engine and got out of the car stiffly. 'Gods,' he thought wryly , 'and just this morning I was thinking how great it was to be away from Paris for a while.' In truth he wasn't sure why he still kept up the pretence of having to be there - except of course that despite his membership of the watchers having been discontinued he did still need Adam Pierson to be a viable identity. So his graduate student life had continued unabated and unalloyed. He had little life outside his study. 'Make that no life,' he thought ruefully. Somehow, despite the fact that he had reclaimed some ground with MacLeod after the Horseman affair in Bordeaux, enough for Mac to refer to him again as a friend at least, he felt his hold on his twentieth century life was more tenuous than before. It was probably the ultimate irony that, having finally been set free from Kronos, he felt more haunted by the crimes he had committed as a Horseman than he had for the past three thousand years.
As he entered the living area he saw Joe, obviously waiting up for him. 'Ah well,' he thought, 'at least with Joe I shan't have the brooding determination I'd get from MacLeod.' He shrugged off his coat, grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat waiting for Joe to start the inquisition.
"Did you catch up with her?" Joe queried, turning his scotch around - intent on the golden liquid swirling in the glass.
"Yes, and yes I took her home, and no I didn't ask and she didn't tell."
"Methos..."
"Joe, don't, please. I have more than enough to think about. I can't cope with the Spanish Inquisition tonight, just leave it OK?"
Joe looked at Methos. It was true he looked even paler than usual and his eyes were narrowed as if he were squinting in pain from being in too intense a light. The compassionate side of Joe's nature demanded that he acquiesce to Methos' request. The watcher in him demanded that he follow through. He'd had time to think over some of the implications of this evening's events and he wasn't sure he liked what his instincts told him. In the end the watcher won.
"I'm sorry Methos, I wish I could just leave it but there's too much at stake here - not just for you and your safety but the safety of all immortals, and of watchers." He leaned forward, fixing Methos with his gaze. "Are you sure we can trust her to keep quiet? Hell! Are we even sure she is who she says she is? I mean, yes her resume checks out but there was nothing about druids and magic. How do you know this isn't some elaborate scam to draw you out of hiding? She could be in league with a group of hunters. There's just too much that's uncertain here." He waited for Methos to respond.
Methos shrank into the chair, as if by doing so he could avoid the watcher's hawk like gaze. He was so tired of explaining himself and his actions all the time. Now here he was, not even the one who'd instigated events - and still everyone wanted answers from him. He looked at Joe and heaved a weary sigh. "I don't know what to tell you Joe." He said quietly, as if afraid the sound of his voice would draw even more unwanted attention from sources other than his friend. "She certainly didn't offer any tangible evidence of having seen into my mind, but then again she didn't pump me for information when we were alone. And for the record, her faint was genuine. I remember enough of my medical training to know the signs and symptoms. All in all, given that much was genuine I'd say that the rest was too..besides she has a certain air about her that makes me believe her."
"All the same, I think I should call on Miss MacLeod and have a talk with her. Even if she is genuine, she could be a threat, unless she's made to see that and unless I can convince her to commit to silence I'll have to report the affair to Watchers' HQ."
Methos started. "Joe!.."
"Now calm down Methos, I'd not mention your name, maybe I can pass it off as Macleod who was the one on the receiving end of her little party trick, I'm sure he'd go along with that - but you must see she can't be allowed to go roaming about all over the place without our knowledge, she's too much of a loose canon."
"My God Joe! She's not going to jeopardise us or herself! I thought you'd see that. You're supposed to be a student of the human psyche. Couldn't you see how genuinely shaken she was and how much afraid she was of what she had done?"
Methos was stunned by Joe's reaction. He knew the watcher had to check all the angles but he'd never have thought the situation warranted such an overt threat to subdue Catriona. From what he'd said he was intent on securing her promise of fealty and secrecy or on ensuring that she would no longer be around to be a danger. The implications of the latter made Methos squirm. He didn't know how to persuade Joe away from any such course of action if reasoning wouldn't work. All he could do was plead on Catriona's behalf and hope his belief in her held any weight with the watcher. He was determined though, that Catriona MacLeod should not be made to suffer because of an accident of fate.
Joe watched his friend's agitation. Sighing he relinquished his hold on the glass of scotch, setting it on the low table in front of him. He spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Hey, it's OK Methos. I guess I am tired, and we're both a bit strung right now. Let's continue this in the morning."
"Whatever." Methos put down the beer bottle as if it was suddenly too heavy to hold any longer. He stood and looked around the room, blinking owlishly - as if uncertain where he was. "Look Joe, I need to think a few things over, I'm going out. Please, please promise me you won't do anything about this before we talk it over properly?" He looked pleadingly at Joe.
At that moment, if Joe had been asked to give an estimate of Methos' physical age rather than his chronological one he'd have been hard pressed to put it much higher than twenty. Methos looked suddenly frail and vulnerable, not adjectives Joe often, if ever, associated with the lean student like figure before him. He felt he had to give him his promise. He also felt suddenly fiercely protective of this man.
"OK Methos, whatever you say. I promise not to make any decisions until we've had time to talk it out properly. Look man you're worn out. Stay. Get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning ."
Methos shook his head. "Thanks Joe, but I really need some space. I appreciate the offer, and I'm not running out on you," he added hastily, seeing Joe's frown, "I promise I'll be back in the morning." He grabbed his coat and was gone before Joe could protest further.
Catriona entered the apartment. She was trembling, as much from the cold as because her emotions were in turmoil. Closing the door behind her she leaned against it for a long moment, eyes shut, wondering how on earth she would ever extract herself from the mire she felt surrounding her. 'Damn!' she thought. A few hours ago she had been congratulating herself on having made the right decision in moving. Now all she could see was the darkness moving to envelop her once again. Despair clawed at her, adding nausea to the trembling. Suddenly she lunged to the bathroom, barely making it in time. As the retching subsided a dull headache settled around her temples. She was conscious of being soaked from the rain, but felt barely capable of achieving the feat of undressing and warming herself in the shower. Instead she leaned her head against the bowl of the lavatory cursing herself for her impetuosity and wishing for nothing more than to be anywhere but here, any one but Catriona MacLeod the well known idiot and outcast.
The overwhelming feeling of self pity took her for a moment..but then she gave herself a mental slap. 'Snap out of it Catriona!' she berated herself. 'However you feel about this you have responsibilities here..both at the University and toward Methos.' The latter she felt would be a duty for as long as she lived...especially if Methos chose never to seek into his lost memories. She was the keeper of his past now and as such she must guard it against those who sought to harm him, and she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that there were those who sought his death. The remembrance of the woman in her vision aroused the nausea again. Against her she would need to be especially vigilant. And it seemed to Catriona that all events were conspiring to bring the events of the vision close..'too close for comfort,' she thought.
Shaking herself free of the morbid fear, she rose and began peeling off the sodden clothing. A bath rather than a shower would offer the most comfort she thought. Lacking a bath, however, the shower would have to do. Turning on the taps she fetched some oil to aid her in her efforts to calm the nervous tension in her body ..lavender. She needed to unwind and she seriously needed to sleep. It had been nearly thirty six hours since she had last slept she realised.....travelling through different time zones had added to the confusion and to the stress her body felt. If she was to be awake in time for her meeting with Janet she'd need to get as long a rest as possible tonight. Sighing she stood under the shower spray and, using some meditation techniques, consciously worked on each group of muscles in turn..urging them to relax.
The warmth of the water and the meditation, together with the light scent of lavender, began to work against her tension. Her breathing deepened and she began to feel the fatigue ease as her muscles lost their rigidity. Realising that she might actually fall asleep in the shower if she remained there much longer she forced herself to rinse and dry herself before rinsing the shower basin and heading for the bedroom. In a few moments she was stretched out in the bed and beginning the hazy journey into sleep. If she had wanted or expected a night of pleasant slumbers, however, she was to be seriously disappointed.