In A Small Town II: The Stationery Man
SPIFFY DISCLAIMER THINGIE!
Ah do not own
Smallville nor its residents; likewise Ah do not own
Pierson nor the Highlander charcters. Smallville
belongs to the WB and Methos
belongs to Panzer Davis Productions.
This is a fan fic for entertainment
purposes only and is not
intended to infringe upon copyrights held by either of
nor anyone else, so don't sue moi:(:(
Rated PG for suggestive
dialogue and for some psychological nastiness. Please
misspelling and such! Moi's spell checker is non compos
Yes, Ah know
that Cassandra Carver died at the end of the "Hourglass" ep!
Ah have resurrected her for purposes of this fic:):)
<G> Just consider this an
AU where she
Special thanks to Sarah for advice and encouragement
Pierson looked up from the carefully preserved copy of Shakespeare's
Folio master of "Coriolanus" when the bell tinkled,
admitting a customer; his
first of the day for Pierson's
"Well, as I live and breath," he grinned.
"If it isn't Lex Luthor himself. To
what do I owe this great
honor pray thee?"
The billionaire's son flashed an equally
false smile back at the chameleon like
Immortal. Methos always
blended in. Always. Any place -- any time. It was one
of his more
*One* of them.
"I just thought I'd
come and see what all the excitement was about," Lex
casual in his manner. His smile was still in place but his
narrowed. Methos AKA Adam Pierson almost
"Excitement? Is *that* what this is?" He glanced
around the quiet bookstore and
industrialist pulled a Gallery Edition of Elizabeth
Browning's "Sonnets From The Portugese" from the shelf
and carefully perused
its friable pages. His long fingers
caressed the vellum quite as if they were
something other than
"Clark can't say enough about you, lately," Lex
remarked, not at all casual,
now. "It's 'Adam this' and 'Adam
that', constantly. I came to see what sort of
magic you might
have to enthrall him so."
Battle was joined and
"Adam" lifted an eyebrow ceilingward. "Hoping it
might rub off, Lex?"
The bald man replaced the book and
withdrew another, studying it carefully.
Arrian's "Life of
Alexander of Macedonia", Pierson noted and did not let
smile this time. Lex Luthor would hardly be the first
power hungry man to
admire the incomparable Macedonian. But in
this case the thought rankled on a
remembered a rainy day, a 'soft' day they still called them in
and a walk. He had always loved the
"Colonial Britain? 19th century?" Duncan MacLeod asked.
At Methos look of
mystery, the Scots Immortal frowned. "Don't
tell me you were part of the Black
Hole Of Calcutta!" his fellow
walker in the rain inquired. Methos tossed his
head in denial.
"I've been in worse balls up's than that in my time, but,
no. Try eariler."
Duncan's brow furrowed in concentration for
several moments. "Persians?" the
Highlander guessed, probing. The
Oldest Man In The World shook his head again,
his coming victory.
"Earlier still," Methos
"Earlier? But ... " Dark eyes widened in wonder and
delight. "You mean ..."
Methos laughed, a low, tinkling
musical sound that had pleasure at its heart.
It wasn't often
that his past brought him joy.
"I was there with Alexander,"
To his companion's patented delight, Duncan
froze in his footsteps, staring at
the ancient man at his side.
No, he wasn't joking. His fellow Immortal was
"ALexander!" the Scottish warrior almost shouted. "You
fought with Alexander?"
Methos steered the Scot to a nearby park
bench and sat down beside him. He let
the rain wash his face for
several moments perhaps in the hope that it could
wash him clean
of the ugliness that lived in his mind just then. MacLeod
in silence, impatient, but unwilling to break the spell
with words. Methos
would speak when and if he chose.
was sixteen the first time I met him," Methos said dreamily to the
looking at his listener. "And it was more than fifteen
hundred years before I
saw any man as beautiful ..." The
Highlander did some quick arithmatic and
blushed at the thought
of Alexander's still living rival. It was unlikely that
Macedonian had ever heard of Hibernia (AKA Scotland), after all One
he had discovered about the presence of his fellow
Immortals: one developed
patience in their company.
was fresh from conquering the Illyrians; dug those savages out of
mountain fortress' and made them submit to Macedonian
overlordship. And then he
made them love him for it ... They
would have followed him to the ends of the
Earth ... And did. All
the way to Persia. Charming the birds out of the trees
begin to describe it ... He took that victory and laid it at
feet like the suppliant child he was. 'Here, look what
I did for you!' And
Phillip ignored him. Phillip always ignored
him. Poor Phillip. It can't have
been easy for him, such a
talented man in his own right, knowing in his bones
that the only
way he'd be remembered to History was as Alexander's
Methos smirked. "And he wasn't even certain of that. It
would have been just
like Olympias to cuckold Phillip in his own
"Personal experience?" Duncan inquired lightly. And
yet ... not really lightly
at all. Methos flashed him a look of
horror and shivered.
"Don't even *think* it, MacLeod!" The
Ancient advised. "I'm fond of all my body
parts exactly where
they are, thank you very much. Always have been. There are
thing not even Death of The Four Horsemen of The Apocolypse is
enough to do. And bedding Olympias was definitely one of
them. Why, I'd rather
have coupled with a pit viper any day. Much
rather. It was safer, believe me.
And infinitely less repulsive.
That woman was the single most ruthless and
human being it has ever been my misfortune to meet. And in
thousand years, that's saying quite a lot." Duncan nodded. He could
imagine that last part to be true.
He had, after
all, met some of Methos ... old friends ...
He thought of
Kronos, the self-styled "End Of Time" and the mad poet
Gordon Noel, the sixth Lord Byron and must supresss a
"So I've heard," he finally said. "Was she really as
- peculiar - as they say?"
Methos lost no time in thought before
"Absolutely!" he assurred the Scottish Immortal.
"She was a Priestess of the
Elyseian Mysteries, loved snakes.
Even took them to bed with her, so they said.
married her because he couldn't have her any other way. So he
her Queen of Macedonia, bedded her, and got Alexander. Of
course, *she* told
Alexander that Zeus was his father. Ha! Not
even Zeus with his eternally
wondering eye would have had her. My
ears sometimes still ring to the shouts
and screams of her wrath.
Not that Phillip was an ideal husband by any means
bastard had one or two new mistresses after every Campaign.
wives. You could count on it like the raising of the
Duncan MacLeod, ever a faithful lover, winced in
"Poor Alexander grew up listening to his mother's
constant, unending rants
against his father," Methos continued.
"That and Phillip's jealous ignorance of
his existence. Phillip,
you see, thought that Alexander was Olympias' creature,
only to her. Fool could never bring himself to see how badly
wanted to please him. It was amazing how well they got
on when they were away
from Olympias. When they were fighting
together it was like the right and the
left hand of a single
body. Phillip was a spearman. He knew infantry. He and
General Parmenion are the ones who actually gave birth to the idea
the famous Macedonian Phalanx. But they couldn't have done it
Alexander. Alexander was a Cavalryman, loved speed and
the ferocity of a
horseborn assault." Methos at last turned to
face his rapt companion. "But,
Olympias couldn't stand that idea
- the two of them together. So she had
Phillip killed. Never
trust a lover, MacLeod. When they turn on you they turn
Duncan absorbed the advise with a skeptical ear, but
"*Olympias* had Phillip killed?" he asked. "History
usually lays that deed at
Alexander's feet," the Scot pointed
out. Methos was swift in his defense of the
"Oh no! Never. Not in a thousand years. Not
Alexander." The Oldest Immortal
shook his rain soaked head in
rigorous denial, sending rain drops flying in all
the force of his conviction. MacLeod wondered for a moment
how he could be so certain, but for only a moment before the
truth burst upon
him. He grinned like a shark
makes you so sure of that? How do you know Alexander is innocent?"
pressed just for the pleasure of seeing The Eldest Immortal
fidgit uneasily in
his seat on the wet stone bench. But Methos
surprised him. Seemingly without
concern, he laughed.
do you *think* I know?" he said. Losing not a beat MacLeod
"Pausanius was the perfect tool,
I'll grant you that ... A spurned, offended
ex-lover usually is,
I hear. Phillip must have had a lot of those lying around,
The smug look that blossomed on the
angular face of the worlds oldest man was a
wonder to behold. He
held up a finger in emphasis. "Ah, but not all of them
Strategos of The Royal Bodyguard. *That* was the really perfect
better for such a thing than the head of Phillip's
security?" Duncan had to
"Who's idea was it to kill
Phillip at his marriage celebration to Eurydike?
"Oh, that was Olympias's idea, I assure you."
Methos wiped his face. "Venegeful
as she was she wanted Phillip
to understand *exactly* why he was dying. The
fact that it was
being done to him at his marriage feast by Pausanius, an
ex-lover who'd been thrown out of Phillips bed in favor of a
man was rather the piece de resistance, I thought. I
timed it. It took the
great bollicking bitch less than two hours
after she saw Phillip's dead body to
strangle poor, silly little
Eurydike with her own Bridal Chord. I really was
sorry about that
"And who's idea was it for Pausanius to be
'accidentally' killed by an
overenthusiastic Guardsman while
attempting to escape?" Duncan asked. Methos
disappointed that the other man had to ask.
"Now, *that* was
my idea. Do I look stupid to you? Pausanius knew bloody good
well who had bided him, fed him wine and regicide for months before
nerved himself to do it. The Macedonions had some very
for treason that took a couple of days
to work. I had no desire to experience
them first hand, trust
me." Duncan's only answer was a curt nod of his
"So you had him killed to prevent him from talking."
The look of disappointment
in MacLeod's dark eyes cut
"Yes," agreed Methos and left it at that.
long time there was only the fall of the rain. Like the both of
rain was eternal and cleansing. Not for the first time
Methos discovered that
it was virtually impossible to tell if
someone was crying in the rain
"Who were you?" Duncan asked
at last, in what passed quite well for a
Methos considered. How to answer? Should he
answer at all? After all, he didn't
owe Duncan MacLeod a thing,
least of all some finite glimpse of *Methos* as
opposed to the
image with which he usually chose to shield himself. The
man was an ingenuous combination of child and chivalrous
knight, yes, but would
he understand? Methos could not be sure
and if the ages had taught him any one
thing it was caution.
Still ... he suspected that Duncan would understand. He
of the young Immortal Richie Ryan.
Indeed, Duncan would
"I - " the ancient man swallowed hard at the
chance he was taking but it was
too late to stop now. "My name
was Hephaestion ..."
He saw Duncan's hands tighten on the
stone bench, white knuckled, and he
wondered just how strong that
stone was. He expected to see it crumble under
the Scot's abuse.
Warily he watched the birth of a thousand questions in
dark, deep eyes and wondered with analytical amusement
which would be the first
one out of Duncan's mouth. He wasn't
kept in suspense for long.
"Did you love him?" the Highlander
wanted to know. Methos blinked as if he
couldn't quite understand
the simple question.
"Love Alexander?" The Immortal shook his
head in sad denial. "It wasn't
possible to love Alexander. He
wouldn't allow it. You don't love a fire that
in its path and leaves smoldering ashes in its wake. You
love a force of nature that conquers everything in its path. Not
you're smart. And I've forever been cursed with too much
let the memories of Duncan MacLeod and Alexander of Macedonia fade
his mind. When he looked up once more it was to lock eyes
with Lex Luthor.
The youthful billionaire held up a copy of
Ceasar's "De Bella Gallico",
smiling. "You have some interesting
books here," he commented.
Methos smiled back. "You have a
consuming passion for history?" he questioned.
"No," Lex informed him, "I just have an interest
in people who conquorered the
world before they were
Methos laughed. "Well, Lex," he advised, "you've
only got nine years left, now
don't you? You'd better get
"I'm not a *boy*," Lex
Methos measured him with a critical eye. "No," he
amended, "you were never a
boy. *You* are something else
"You know nothing about me," Lex returned coolly,
composed in the face of an
enemy. "You have no idea what I'm
"You're wrong there, Lex," Pierson was adamant.
"I know *exactly* what you're
capable of. Do *you*?"
The young Luthor reached into the pocket of his jacket
and pulled out an
unlabeled computer disc. "*This* is what I'm
capable of, *Adam*."
Methos grew very still. "Where did you
get that?" he hissed.
Lex replaced the disc in his inner
pocket, smiling. "It's absolutely amazing
what you can find in a
close out sale at an antiquarian bookstore, isn't it?"
"Paris? Shakespeare and Company? On the Rue de Belloq? Is any of
ringing any bells for you?"
"Dan Saltzer,' the
Immortal thought. 'Watcher HQ for France. Damn! I thought
thing was destroyed. MacLeod killed Kalas to stop its publication.
Watcher Database was supposed to be a useful tool for
observing Immortals. It's
been nothing but a bloody pain in my
arse since Dan and I created it.'
Lex patted the jacket
pocket affectionately. "Fascinating stuff, actually.
People living forever and a centuries old secret society devoted
watching them do it."
Pierson's return smile was
decidedly predatory. "What do you want?"
"I *want* you to
leave Smallville," said Lex coldly. "A simple thing. Just
and nothing more. You pack up and move. NOW. Or you're all
on CNN by week's
Methos eyes were hooded, guarded.
"It seems you know a lot about that disc. Do
you know, then, what
happened to the last man who made that malediction?"
a threat?" Luthor said, his eyes narrowing.
Methos threw up
his hands and widened his green-gold eyes in innocence.
*me*? Threaten the mighty Lex Luthor?" he gasped. "Why,
never! Not in ... five
thousand years ... No, not a threat.
Merely an observation."
Lex chuckled. "You can cut the
innocent pose. You're about as innocent as a
cobra ... "
... if that ... " agreed Methos affably enough.
Smallville exile patted his jacket pocket once more. "Oh, I know all
The Immortal quashed his intial
displeasure. Give no fuel to the enemy. An
eyebrow reached for
the sky. "Do you? Do you indeed?"
"Oh, yes," Lex assured him
with confidence. "I know a great many interesting
you. So far as I can tell you're the only one of these
not listed on this disc of mine. I wonder
Methos leapt upon his prey. "Becuae *I* made the disc,
boy." Startled, Luthor
blinked and Methos grinned in sunny
triumphant. "I see you didn't know *that*,"
"Evidently you don't know as much as you thought. Perhaps
should rethink your postion, my friend."
"I'm not your
friend. And I still know all I need to know about you,"
"I'll just bet you do," Methos laughed.
"Fascinating fellow that I am. Well,
then, since you have me so
neatly pegged, then you should know that I don't
give a bloody
damn if you publish that disc or not. Go right ahead.
yourself out. I can take care of myself. I'm an expert at
me. I hear Bora-Bora is lovely this time of
"Ah, but what about your friends?" Lex said softly.
"That's always the trouble
with you conscience stricken heroic
types. You always have hostages to fortune,
don't you? Useful
things hostages to fortune."
Methos clutched himself around
the belly and laughed so hard he shed tears.
'Conscience-stricken'? 'Heroic type'?" He straightened himself,
his streaming eyes. Give no fuel to the enemy.
"You're quite wrong, Lex. There's no one on that disc that I
give a bleeding
pig's fart for. Darius and Byron are both dead.
So is Ritchie Ryan. Duncan
MacLeod is .... hidden. Even I can't
find him. And, trust me, if *I* can't find
him, he's not
"What about Joe Dawson?" Lex pressed.
about him?" Methos deadpanned. "These days Joe is Watcher Head
Security for North America. And The Watchers take care of
their own. Trust me
on that, too. I know. Besides, for a cripple,
Joe is amazingly agile when it
comes to covering his own ass.
Good luck there."
"I'll find someone," Lex smiled. "Someone
you care about."
"I think not, Lex," Methos grinned. "You see
there simply *isn't* anyone like
that. The only one I care about
is me. Ask anyone. We're a lot alike there."
fear," Luthor said. "I'll find someone."
The Eldest Living
Immortal stroked his chin in consideration. "You just might,
that." Idly his nimble fingers twirled a jeweled Parthian
speculatively, juggling it from one hand to the
"You can put that down, now," Lex looked bored. "That
and the Ivanhoe
broadsword stashed in your overcoat. Nice weapon,
by the way."
"Thank you," Methos acknowledged with a
flourish. "Unlike your fencing foil,
it's not a toy." The
Immortal smiled. "And I *do* know how to use it. Just
don't like to fight doesn't mean that I *can't*. But now that
established my excellent taste in cutlery, where do we go
"Anywhere but Smallville," Lex responded
smoothly. "And I thought we'd already
established *exactly* what
you are ... "
"Why, yes we have, haven't we?" Methos
returned, his tone quite merry. His
green-gold eyes glittered
like hard stone. "What we haven't established quite
yet is just
what *you* are, Lex."
He stepped lithely out from behind the
illusionary safety of his desk out onto
the floor of the
bookstore. Slowly, he backed the younger man up against a
beneath a matted print of "Pandemonium, Capitol City of
"It all boils down to Clark, in the end, doesn't it,
Lex?" he whispered.
"Lovely, innocent Clark ... " He pressed his
body even closer and whispered in
Luthor's ear. "Perhaps he's not
as innocnet as you imagine. You see, your sort
'innocence' with foolishness or lack of drive. And that
describe Clark at all. No, it doesn't. But you wouldn't
know that, would you?"
Lex moved to escape and Methos pinned him
against the wall with a forearm. With
his other hand, he ghosted
his fingers lightly along the other man's bald scalp
and felt him
shiver in responce.
"Oh, I know *exactly* what you want from
Clark, Lex. And you aren't going to
get it. My word on that. I'll
kill you first. You'd best believe me when I tell
Because I will. In a heartbeat. I'd be doing the world a
according to Cassandra."
Luthor kicked out and
Methos lithely dodged. "You're *disgusting!" the
Methos had to laugh. "You can
lie to yourself, boy, but not to *me*." He leaned
in and sniffed
delicately at the sweat on Luthor's upper lip. "I can smell it
you, Lex. Lust has a peculiar tart odor all its own. You can't
Not once you've inhaled it." His grin was
carcahrodontic. "It's a lot like the
smell of fear that
Luthor squirmed and tried to free himself to no avail.
Methos pinned the other
man's arms to the wall at the
billionaire's back. Lex growled, looking pale
"Well, I hope you pine for it, Lex," Methos
whispered in the exile's ear. "I
hope you dream about it and lust
for it; I want it to invade your slumber and
keep you awake at
night." Methos released the industrialist's struggling hand
lowered his own, stroking the sides of Lex's long neck. "Because you
have it. Remember what I said, boy. You touch him or hurt
him and you die. I'll
fillet you like a mackeral."
Concealed in his sleeve a very small, very sharp dirk popped
Immortal's waiting hand. Like tame dogs to the heels of
their master, the
weapons of death and war came to him. He lay
the cold, naked steel against
"We're finished!" Lex hissed, pushing him
... finished ...
The memory was inappropriate in the extreme. They almost
always were. Now was
*not* the time for it. But that did not, of
course, keep it from coming.
He remembered Duncan MacLeod
again. So many, many things began and ended with
words and a cold, cold Autumn night that chilled the
A hastily packed RV and the familiar
unresisted urge to flee, to slink off into
the night. Anything
except having to explain. How to explain the world of
thousand years ago and Death of The Four Horsemen of The
Apocolypse? Not merely
Biblical rhethoric* but, Bronze Age
Immortals. Raiders who killed and enslaved
because they could.
Because it was what powerful men did in those times. Over
thousand years of rape and slaughter, burning and destruction.
sometimes still woke him in the fastness of the
And not all the dreams were nightmares.
was the problem.
<Things were different, then, MacLeod.
*I* was different. The whole bloody word
was different. ...
<Did you DO it? *Did* you? DID you, Methos?>
Did you ...
Did you ...
Did you ...
Losing his temper at the self righteous Scot. Pounding him
up against the side
of the RV with a strength that astonished
<I killed - but I didn't just kill fifty, I
didn't kill a hundred, I killed a
thousand. I killed *ten*
thousand. And I was good at it. And it wasn't for
wasn't for greed, it was because ... I liked it. The people
nothing. Whole villages were nothing. Do you know who I was?
I was Death. Death
on a horse. When mothers warned their children
that the monster would get them,
that monster was *me*. I was the
nightmare that kept them awake at night. Is
that what you want to
hear? The answer is yes. Oh, yes.>
The lost look of anger
and betrayal that claimed Ducan MacLeod's dark features
stay with Methos for a very, very long time. That and the sound of
pain in his musically accented voice.
advantage of his distraction, Lex Luthor, wriggled free and turned
flee. Reaching out, Death on a horse, grabbed the escaping
youth by his jacket
"Oh no, Lex. We're not done
The Luthor scion struck out at the Immortal with a
cletched fist and gritted
teeth. Not a very physical person, he
did not connect. Methos, once again,
easily avoided the intended
blow. With his open hand Methos slapped the scion
of wealth and
power in the temples and the fencer fell back, stunned.
hauled him to his feet once more bracing him against the
wall. He pressed his
groin to the industrialist's. He blew hot
breath into the other mans ear and
wached him struggle
unsucessfully to free himself.
"Cassandra told me about her
vision of your future. Didn't tell you, though,
did she? She told
me what you'll do to Clark ... what you'll do to the whole
if you're not stopped."
Again, the unbidden memories
me your hand," Cassandra Carver requested and held out her own.
hesitated. He believed in her gift, he really did. That,
in fact, was the
problem. Did he really want to know his
The answer was ... yes, oh yes.
Gently he took
the elderly seer's arthritic hand in his and held his
waiting. He could feel Cassandra's fingers stroking his
palm, probing, feeling
their way. Suddenly they
"You have a life line the size of the Amazon!" cried
Cassandra. "Who *are* you?"
And then the world exploded in a
great blinding flash of cascading vari-colored
light to be
replaced by the ring of bladed steel, the song of battle. The
in Methos hand lashed out to be met with the solid feel of
blade. Against his will Methos green-gold eyes
widened at the sight of the
ancient carved ivory dragon's head
gracing the katana wielded by his yet unseen
opponent. Forged by
the legendary swordsmith Muramassa in 1640, the ancient
glittered in the dying light of a waning sun. He stumbled back,
with recognition. He knew that sword.
tightened around Cassandra's aged, frail one, but the
woman did not cry
His Ivanhoe flashed in his
hands and his shadowed opponent cried out, struck in
arm. Deftly, the other Immortal tossed his katana into his left
and continued. Methos smiled.
'Yes! That's the way.
Come on. You can do it. You can!'
Steel sang against steel.
Sparks flew. Methos watched one of them landed on the
back of his
hand and ignored the brief sting of its dying. His opponent
and Methos fell back. His blood sang along with the
steel, now. He ducked under
a long bladed sweep meant to send him
to the earth in a tangle of arms and
"Come on!" he
shouted. "You can do better than this. I know you can! Fight
curse you! Fight!"
The larger man twirled the ancient
blade in his hand, stepping back. Methos
read it in the other
man's eyes, then. Those dark, deep pools that shielded
hiding not even the most basic of his feelings. They softened and
light of battle went out of them like a flickering candle
extinguised by a
brisk wind. The sword wavered in the skilled
And then the katana lifted itself, primed for a great
cutting strike aimed at
Methos neck. For the first time those
eyes were hidden, now. Unreadable.
willed himself to stand still. To accept the descending blade. But
body betrayed him. Quite against his will, the Oldest Living
Immortal, Death of
the Four Horsemen, and so many, many other
things made two swift strokes at his
open and now defenseless
opponent with the great broadsword clutched in his
The other man smiled, waiting, accepting the coming
The first cut was directly to his foe's unguarded
heart, followed by a slashing
blow to the neck that neatly
decapitated his foe. Methos lips formed words and
croaked when he whispered them.
"There can be only One ...
And Duncan MacLeod, the Highlander, fell lifeless to the
Lightning stirred in the
clouds covering the bright, full moon. Like a woman
her lover, the sky began to gently weep, pouring forth its
grief upon the earth below.
Sobbing, Methos sank to
his knees. "Damn you, MacLeod! Damn you to Hell! Why?
you fight? WHY?"
The Quickening came this time upon soft
little cat's paws, taking him like a
gentle and tender caress
from a brother's hand. A warm mist, it sank within him
settled to rest lightly, no burden at all. Darius was there, shining
peace and traquility as a star radiates light. And Byron
... all fire and
passion ... the beauty and Romance of his poetry
too much a part of him to be
seperated from his
And now a part of Methos.
But clearest of
all there was Duncan MacLeod. The Highlander.
why, Methos. You know. You've always known.>
tossed Cassandra's hand away, standing so suddenly that he
the chair in which he sat, sending it flying back into a
wall with such force,
that it shattered into peices with a sound
very much like splintering bone.
Huge eyed, Methos backed away
from the sybil, shaking his head in terror.
Cassandra cried. "You saw, didn't you?"
stumbling, he fled to the small bathroom. It wasn't until
Kent heard the sounds of retching creeping their way
between the cracks of the
solidly closed door that he cautiously
approached, peeking through the wood
with his x-ray vision. What
he glimpsed apalled him.
Methos was on his knees hugging the
cold porcelin of the toilet and vomiting
into the bowl until only
the dry heaves were left. The superpowered teenager
door open, careful not to rip it from its hinges. His
feet stepped into the small
Methos head snapped up and he stared
at the boy. Involuntarily Clark took a
step backwards, striken in
the presence of such pain and self loathing.
"Don't call me
that!" the five thousand year old man shouted. "Adam Pierson is
lie. Like Benjamin Adams and Lucien of Samothrace, Dr. Polidori
Amun-Nefer the Scribe, Dudley Soames and a thousand, thousand
others just like
them. A lie! He never existed. Do you hear me?
Never! Do you want to know who I
really am? I'm Deeeaaaath. Death
of The Four Horsemen. He's real! *He* lives!"
pleaded. "Methos, let me help - " He lay a hand on the
"DON'T TOUCH ME!"
Clark moisened a cloth and wiped the tear stained face. He took
Immortal into the circle of his strong arms and held him.
"Listen to me,
Methos. What Cassanda sees isn't written in stone.
The future never is. We can
change it. We can. She told me that
someone close to me was going to die ...
and they didn't. No one
<Yet ... >
The Immortal pushed the youth
away from him, hard. "Get away from me!" he
hissed. "Get as far
away from me as you can. Do you understand me? Get away!
your only chance."
Clark picked himself up and walked on his
knees back to Methos side. He reached
for the ancient man's hand.
"No." he said. "I won't leave you."
"The you're a fool, farm
The young man set his full, ripe lips in a stubborn
line. "Maybe," he admitted.
"But I'd rather be a fool than a
It was many minutes later before a more composed
Methos faced Cassandra Carver
again, slumped into the
uncomfortable confines of one of her straight backed
chairs. The blind soothsayer looked right through him it seemed
Methos closed his eyes. Her papery parchament thin voice
spoke volumns when it
echoed in the halls of her room once
"You're The One," she said, simply.
bolt upright as if he'd been electrified. "No! I can't be! I
*want* to be! You're wrong! You have to be. It's MacLeod!
MacLeod, do you hear?
I'm going to see to it."
woman looked sad, the ancient lines of her face pulled tight.
try," was her prediction. "You'll try so very hard. But
that's not his destiny.
To be The One. It's *yours*."
eyed, Methos ran away, then. The thing he'd always thought he was
Ran away to the nearest tavern and the cold, empty
solice of too much dark
German beer. Lager and the smooth and
smoky, peat flavored taste of vintage
Glen Morangie Scotch. He
did not let himself remember where and in who's
acquired a taste for it.
He didn't recall much until he woke
up the next afternoon in the cozy safety of
the loft in the Kent
family barn. Clark's Fortress of Solitude.
The next day, he
slipped away into the early dawn silence, disappearing. No one
Smallville laid eyes on him for more than two weeks until he
find Clark Kent sitting patiently behind the sales
desk of Pierson's
Antiquarian Books. The boy's blue eyes shone at
the sight of him. The Immortal
tossed his duffel bag casually in
a corner and watched the teenager smile like
"I knew you'd be back," Clark explained softly. At the
sight of Methos
quizzically rised eyebrow he stammared. "The
books .... I knew you couldn't
leave all that history, all that
knowledge behind ... "
Methos turned away, hiding his
blinked, returning to the present. The Immortal looked up to see
fleeing Lex Luthor. This time Methos let the other go. Walking
made his way back behind his desk and sat heavily
down. Steepling his fingers,
The Eldest Immortal took stock. Well
this was another fine bloody mess he'd
gotten himself into now,
wasn't it? Blast and damn! And all for ... All for a
vulnerable fifteen year old child ... All for a pair of big blue
for kissable lips to kill for ... All for a body who's many
he was never going to sample ...for a lonely,
confused orphan child cast to the
mercy of the merciless
... All for the hope of the world.
his burning eyes. "So what are you going to do , *Adam*?"
interrogated himself in harsh tones. "And I'm talking to Adam
Methos. I *know* what Methos would do. But what
about Adam Pierson, Watcher,
scholar, lover of history and dusty
old tomes that no one else cares for? What
about him? Any
He thought about it, then smiling, he reached
for the telephone.
"I need an overseas operator, sil vous
plait," he said, his grin broadening. "A
Paris exchange. Yes,
that would be: tolon- 8138. Merci."
He hoped she was at home.
Tracking her down would be entirely too time
consuming and, quite
frankly, time was something he was a bit short on just
was waiting for Clark when the young man climbed the stairs to the
and his "Fortress of Solitude" a week later.
boy brightened at the sight of him. "Meth - Adam!"
Man in the World smiled. He looked up from the lens of
telescope, beaming. "Hadn't seen you in the shop in a day
or so, so I thought
I'd investigate." The Immortal wiggled an
eyebrow. "Besides," he said, "it
gives me a chance to flirt with
Clark's eyes widened and then he rolled his
eyes. "I never know when you're
Methos supressed laughter. "Neither do I," he
replied solemly. Methos peered
into the telescope once again,
studing the stars. "Have you seen Lex Luthor,
lately?" he asked
casually. "What's he been up to?"
"Well, I don't know," Clark
frowned. " I haven't seen him for a while. But Lex
pissed about something, I know that much. He won't say what. He
keeps muttering about theives and theivery."
shrugged, smoothly changing the subject.
"Clark? Have I
introduced you yet to my friend Amanda Darrieux? Amanda is ...
expert in the appraisal and ... ah ... recovery ... of beautiful,
The fifteen year old small town
teenager's blue eyes widened at the vision of
pulchritude gliding on high heeled feet his way.
cooed Amanda, running one long red laquered nail down the
muscled, flannel covered chest. "Methos, you *do* know the
people .. " She smiled and Clark was in severe
danger of melting into a puddle
of goo. But the smile on his face
said that it might be worth it, at that.
Amanda, the Immortal
"Whip me! Beat me! Make me write bad checks!"
Clark breathed and Methos covered
his eyes with his hand. Gods
have mercy, what had he done?
"Trust me, Clark," Amanda
whispered. "It isn't your money that I want .. "
superpowered youth announced, "Because I haven't got
Amanda pressed closer, molding her lithe body to his.
"Oh, I think you've got
quite a bit, Clark," she chuckled. It was
plain that it wasn't money that was
under discussion here,
Methos lay a cautionary hand on the Immortal vixen's
bare shoulder. "Amanda ...
" he warned.
She left off
nibbling an invulnerable ear lobe and Clark's breathing was
"What?" she demanded, all wide eyed
innocence. "Did I do something wrong?"
Methos sighed. "Only
if you call the Legal Code of the State of Kansas, wrong.
called statutory rape, Amanda. He's fifteen."
old woman pushed out her lower lip in a fetching pout. "You
let me have any fun!" she accused. "Since when did *you*
get to be such an old
groused Clark, "what happened to the carousing, huh?"
Eldest Immortal turned to first Amanda and then Clark. "Since the
I was crucified for 'perversion'. 319 BC, I think it
was." Clark winced. "As
for the carousing," he informed the boy,
"it's on hold until you're legal.
Contributing to the delinquency
of a minor is likewise a crime."
Amanda sighed deeply. "Such
a pity ... But don't forget to call me when you're
be here with bells (and *nothing* else!) on."
Clark rised a
hopeful finger. "The age of consent in Kansas is sixteen,"
husked. "I checked."
Amanda brightened. "And how long
until you're sixteen?" she wondered.
"One month, six days,
nine hours, ten minutes and - " Clark consulted his
forty five seconds!" he said instantly.
Amanda kissed his
cheek. "It's a date!" she promished.
Taking Amanda's hand
Methos lead her firmly away, down the steps, out of the
and Clark's 'Fortress of Solitude'.
"Clark aside," he asked,
helping her into her car, "Did you get what you
She lifted a sculptured eyebrow. "Have a little
faith," she said. "Of course I
did! Casa del Luthor is a shieve.
I was in and out before anyone even had time
to blink. The safe
was a bitch, though. I haven't seen a vault that tough since
rode with Butch and Sundance." From her bodice she pulled a computer
handing it to Methos. "And no back ups this time, either. I
checked. But just
to be on the safe side I wiped the hard drive
on Lexy's computer anyway.'
"Good girl!" smiled Methos,
bussing her cheek.
"No, I'm not," she chuckled. "I'm a very
*bad* girl. And you love me for it."
Methos cleared his
throat, experimentally. "Amanda ... about Clark ... " He
himself and set his face. "If you hurt him I'll kill you. It's
Amanda's eyes darkened in wrath. "You
bastard!" she hissed. "I think you really
grabbed her hand and held it fast. "Sticks and stones, Amanda; stick
stones ... Yes, I would. Believe me. One day this boy is
going to be very
important to the whole world. VERY
"Saving him for yourself?" she snarled.
He tossed her hand away in anger and she rubbed it, watching
disappear. "No, I'm not," Methos said. "I thought you
knew me better than that."
"And I thought you knew *me*
better than that!" she cried. But then she
"Methos, I'd never hurt him. He's adorable. And sexy as
can be careful and nurturing. I can. Can't he and I just curl up
play house for eigthy or ninety years?" She looked away.
"Methos ... I - I - I
miss MacLeod. And this boy is sooo damned
much like him, it frightens me."
Methos closed his eyes. "I
know ... " He bit his lip. "All right, Amanda. Just
careful, okay? He's quite ... vulnerable ... right now." He
consider the irony of his words too deeply or closely . He
ran his fingers
through his dark hair. "I suppose I can't shield
him forever, can I? Especially
from something he wants so
Amanda smiled. "No, you can't He has a right to this
experience, Methos." She
patted his hand. "And would I make such
a terrible native guide?"
He laughed shaking his rueful head.
"No." was all he said before she started
the sports car's
powerful engine and zoomed off with a final, "Toodle-loo!" and
wiggle of her talented dexterous fingers.
*The Biblical verse is
Revelaztions 6:8 -- "Behold! A pale horse. And the man
upon him was Death. And Hell followed with him."
Amanda is a thief!:):) One of the very best in the world. After
... she's had *centuries* to practice. <VBEG> And
that's the name of that tune!
In case any one is interested
... here's a picture of Methos!
here's a picture of "Death on a Horse":