Chapter Text
"Hey Joe, it's good to see you.” Methos paused as if he was still deciding what he should say. I knew a lot of shit had gone down at headquarters this past week, and he was probably scheming away to tell me he was vanishing to parts unknown.
“Hey, I've been on about a dozen planes, been to more countries than I can count, and just got into town. So, if you don’t mind, can I stay at your place tonight?" Methos softly hedged, still sounding young and vulnerable like his alias, Adam Pierson.
I sighed heavily, shaking my head and narrowing my eyes when I heard Methos's voice and saw him about to enter my bar. Tonight was Sunday, and we were closed to everyone but fellow Watchers. Mike was hosting the weekly card game, and sadly, I had been losing—badly. So I decided to cash out, go home, and watch the Oscars.
"Are you out of your fucking mind? Don’t come in here! The bar is filled with Watchers!” I started grinding my teeth between breaths as I yelled at him. Methos raised his eyes to meet mine and opened his mouth in rebuttal. But before he got another word out, I continued my tirade. “Dammit to hell! Mike and the crew are playing poker, and they all know you're Immortal! They’re all furious that you pretended to be one of us for years." I blurted out, gesturing wildly and then forcefully with all my might, shoving him back into the parking lot.
As I saw Adam standing there with his eyes wide open, his posture crumbling and shaking his head in denial, I started feeling guilty for yelling at him. I could feel my pulse quicken while my heart began to race. Sometimes, when I looked at him, all shy, sexy, and unassuming, I remembered that I had never stopped loving him. But then again, I had been in love with Adam Pierson, not a five-thousand-year-old son of a bitch who was now endeavoring to make my life difficult. I had plans, and the last thing I needed was a couch-surfing Immortal.
Methos shrugged his shoulders in his usual casual manner. He stuck his hands in his overcoat pockets, wrapping his oversized trench coat around himself, and then magically changed from mild manner Watcher Adam Pierson into the oldest Immortal. His voice turned soft and was almost a whisper, but it came out with a biting, sarcastic tone: “It’s okay, Joe. I can just hop on another plane if you’re too busy."
“Adam! It’s not like I’m unhappy to see you.” I tried to smile and look enthused that he had come to pay a visit, even though my body language spoke quite the opposite.
“Sorry to barge in, Joe, but I just wanted to spend some time with a friend. MacLeod and I haven’t been on the same page since the whole horsemen thing. Amanda went to the Montego on the Riviera, and you know I hate those pricey resorts. Plus, Richie’s still hiding out, letting everyone think he’s dead.”
“So I was the only one left that you could pester!” I spit back at Methos.
“No, it’s not that. Sorry, I think I made a mistake coming here,” Methos murmured almost under his breath as he turned to walk away.
“Adam, don’t go, I’m sorry.” I leaned heavily on my cane, reaching out and grasping his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m just tired and had plans for tonight. Damnit, I’ve been afraid the Watchers Tribunal would cut your fool head off. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve beheaded an Immortal for subverting the Watchers.”
Methos turned back to me and smiled in that pretentious manner he had when he knew he already had all the answers. “The Tribunal decided killing me would be an act of interference on their part.”
“That didn’t stop them from killing Jacob Galati or putting a hit out on MacLeod and Kalas. What the fuck are you talking about?” I spit out in a short, loud, and annoyed tone.
Methos checked to make sure the Bar’s door was closed before speaking in a soft, clear voice. “Dr. Amy Zoll told the Tribunal I was the real Methos and explained exactly how she discovered my true identity.” Then, tilting his head, he raised his eyebrows and donned one of those familiar half-smiles. “Didn’t you get the memo? I thought of all the people they’d tell; you’d be one of the first.”
I guess that was all the explanation I was going to get. “Yeah, I got the one about Adam Pierson being an Immortal, but nothing about you being Methos.” My eyes widened, and then, in a shaky voice, I replied, “How the hell did this happen? And who else knows about your real name?”
“Just the Tribunal, Dr. Zoll, you, and whoever they tell. I knew I was pushing it and should have left right after Don died.” He took a long breath while looking down as if studying the pavement. A moment later, Methos continued, raising his eyes to meet mine. “I had to get the hell out of Paris quickly. So I made a lot of noise that I was heading to holy ground. They assumed I was going to Tibet. I finally lost my new team of Watchers in Istanbul, or was it Damascus? Frankly, I’m so tired I'm not sure. Anyway, I headed through the Far East to get to Seacouver. Joe, the only sleep I’ve gotten in the last 36 hours was a quick nap with my face plastered to an airplane window. You know I hate flying, especially when I’m stuck in Economy. So, would you mind if I crash on your sofa tonight?”
I sighed, “Fine; it’s better than us hanging around out in my cold parking lot.” Shaking my head in disbelief a few times, I focused on one of his statements, “Did you say you have a whole team of Watchers following you?” My mind was boggling at the repercussions of the Watcher’s learning that Adam was Methos.
He revealed so much tonight with a glance of those beautiful green-gold eyes. His emotions bounced between his Adam Pierson persona and that of a neurotic ancient man who had survived millenniums. Although He still looked as he always had, his eyes betrayed signs of stress and exhaustion. “Joseph, my life is starting to get Bloody Damn thorny. And I wanted to spend some time with you and have a chance to talk before anything else happens.”
So that was it – Methos wanted to see me one last time. I always knew our time together was finite, me being the mortal one. But then again, I never imagined the day would come when I’d have to say goodbye. Trying to relax and realize that the only way I could get answers was to do it Methos's way, I answered, “Methos, come home with me, but I have one condition: I’m watching the Oscars tonight. Hey, have you been to the movies since Talkies started? And don’t just tell me the book was better.” I told him, knowing it might be my only chance to get the whole story.
“Joe, Did I ever tell you that I worked on a movie set during the 1950’s? I was Billy Wilder’s assistant on Some Like It Hot.” Methos replied as he turned beside me and gently tossed one of his arms over my shoulder, pulling me into a side hug as we walked toward my car.
“Yeah, Yeah, sure you were,” I jeered back at Methos, never knowing if he was just telling me the truth or a line of pure bullshit. I could smell his breath, and it reeked of whiskey. He already had been drinking. Life is funny, and nothing really has changed. I still cared deeply for him, even if he is a 5,000-year-old alcoholic. I smiled before yelling at him again, “Now get in my car before someone sees you. If you’re lucky, I’ll even feed you and let you drink some of my liquor.” I informed him as we walked to my Jeep.