It had been real, he had been there again and had held Guinevere. His body suddenly convulsed with sobs that he had longed to give in to. Only when he cried out did he realize someone was pounding on his door.
"Methos! Are you alright? Methos! Let me in!" a voice came from outside.
It was Joe. The damned fool was here in the middle of the night. No doubt he had found something.
Methos did his best to control the sobs so that he could call out to his friend. He knew Joe would see him in a state he had only once before witnessed, the time with Alexa. "Hold on a minute," he managed to call out, but weakly.
Joe must have heard him because the pounding stopped. Methos rose from the bed, noticed he was drenched with sweat, and pulled a sweater and some jeans on. He grabbed a towel that had been draped over a chair and ruffled his hair with it. Barefoot, he walked to the door.
Sure enough, Joe stood on the other side of the door, with a frantic look and a stack of papers underneath his arm. "What the hell was going on in there?" he demanded. One look at Methos' dishievled hair and his puffy eyes told him one story.
Methos told him another. "Nothing. I was just sleeping, until some crazed man started pounding on my door."
Joe knew he should let it go. This man was too proud to admit anything was wrong, but one way or the other, he'd get it out of him, just like he did at the bar earlier. "You look like hell."
"Thanks, same to you," Methos replied and stepped aside to let the Watcher in. "What'cha got there?"
"Oh, just some stuff on Garret. It's probably not that important. I can show it to you later," Joe responded, reluctant to come into the apartment.
"Not important?!" Methos exclaimed. He knew by his concerned expression that Joe didn't buy his lie. "Okay, I had a dream. That's what you wanted to hear, wasn't it?"
Joe now stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him. "Shed some light on the subject, will ya?"
Methos reached for the light switch. The younger old man hobbled over to the table and set his findings down. "I've been on the computer ever since you left and found tons of stuff on this guy."
"Gareth, knight devoted to King Arthur," Methos mumbled under his breath, but it didn't go unnoticed.
Spreading the papers out, he picked up one and handed it to the immortal. "He was born around the supposed time of Arthur's death. That is, if he was real, which I now know he was. So probably when you killed him, that did it."
"So, he's come back to get me for that, has he?" Methos smirked, trying to enlighten the mood.
Joe didn't take the hint. "I would probably do the same if I had been run through and then burned like hell!" He paused to calm down. "Look, this all is crazy, but then I guess if the Four Horsemen could happen, then this could too."
A scowl settled on Methos' face. "Joe, you don't have to do this. Hell, I didn't even want to tell you about this. Yes, it sounds absurd, but I know that it was real! I lived it, I breathed it!" His chest started to heave, and he fell into the chair at the table. Really, he had to stop before he made too much of a scene.
His friend didn't say anything, but Methos knew what he wanted. Joe pulled out another chair and sat down himself. Once getting control, Methos sighed deeply and began to relive his dream.
Joe listened intently, taking mental notes. The immortal knew he was doing this, and he left out the part of Guinevere. Surely if Joe had read the legends, he knew that the inevitable had happened. His tale drifted farther than where his dream had taken him. He had gone on to the quest, and once again, it was as if he were there again....
"Do you go my way, or do you plan to stray another?" finally Methos broke the silence.
"I would that you would allow, follow you, Sir Lancelot," the young chap responded. "I feel that I shall encounter a many adventures by riding at your side."
"Is that what you seek, my boy? I fear I may disappoint you."
"Nay," Galahad countered. He pulled his black horse next to to the larger, white steed upon which Methos rode. "Everywhere you go, adventure finds you. I would like that I could be a part of at least one."
Methos grinned. He had never been alone in the company of Galahad, and thus had never outright faced the boy about his mother's allegations. But Galahad had appeared to put that embarrassment behind him, and so could Methos. "Well, we shall see which adventure will find us then."
They continued to chat, Galahad asking for complete detailings of the wars in which Lancelot had participated and had won for his king. And this went on for days, weeks, and months. It had been nearly a year since they had left Camelot in their search, and had uncovered nothing. They had traveled through England and had begun search in Scotland.
Galahad had stayed with him, keeping him company, and for this Methos was glad. He didn't know if he would have tolerated the long days and nights without the companionship. At least, he had not thought of Guinevere so much.
It was on a sunny day that Lancelot was recounting a joust he had had with another knight, Percivale who was also on the quest. So lost in the tale were they that they did not notice the hut until they were almost upon it.
A thin line of gray smoke spiraled from the thatched roof and brought to them the smell of freshly cooked rabbit. Galahad licked his lips. It was almost noon now, and time to break their fast. "Do you suppose we could stop to eat?" the young knight asked.
"I suspect we shan't be welcomed here," Methos revealed. "'Tis a hermit's hut."
Galahad dismounted his horse and tied the reins aroung a nearby tree. "Shall I try?"
Methos laughed and waved his hand for the boy to go on. He watched as his companion climbed the battered steps and knocked on the door. Shortly thereafter, a small, hunched over man appeared. His beard was long and touched his slippers. He peered up into Galahad's face and then out to Methos. "What ye want?"
Galahad bowed slightly. "We are knights of King Arthur's Round Table out on a quest. Upon reaching your home, we smelled such wonderful game. Might we share in your meal, and then we will gladly catch more game for you in repayment?"
Methos mentally commented on the boy's actions. He wondered then if this boy wasn't the son of the real Lancelot. His manner of being was almost the same. Shaking the thought off, he dismounted when Galahad motioned for him.
The old man led them into the hut and directed them to sit on the floor next to the fire. There were no chairs, no table. Only a pallet on the floor where the man sat, a few books, and the fire that was in the middle of the floor surrounded by rocks to prevent it from spreading. The two knights did as they were ordered and the man set two trenchers in front of them with rabbit meat and crude cups of some concoction.
Galahad lited the cup to his nose and took a whiff. He nodded his approval and took a gulp. To Methos' surprise, it was ale. The old man must have had a secret stash!
The meat was delicious. Of course, the meal wasn't as grand as the ones they received at the castle, but it was filling. "I want to thank you," Methos said between bites.
The old man, from his sitting place on the pallet, place his own trencher on the floor. "What is your name?"
The hermit's eyes were distant, as if he recalled a time long ago that Methos' presence had called to memory. Panic set in. Would he be found out? But this man was a hermit. Who would believe his rantings over the word of a noble knight? "I am Lancelot, knight to King Arthur of Camelot."
After another long studious look, the old man nodded. "You seek the Grail, do you not?"
Methos looked to Galahad silently asking if he had mentioned such. Galahad's brows furrowed in disbelief, and he shrugged in answer. "Yes, and how is it that you come to know this?"
"I know many things, Sir Lancelot." Much emphasis was put on the name, and Methos inwardly cringed. "I also know that this journey is a dead end for you."
Both knights turned to the man. "What is it you speak of?" Galahad was the one to question.
The old man stroked his beard as if thinking. "I see things, sir knight, and I do not see Sir Lancelot finding this Grail. He is not worthy, not pure. He can never behold the miraculous sight."
And somehow, Methos knew the man was right. His past, his present, everything was at odds with who he was pretending to be. It was true, he would never find the Grail, and at this revelation, he was surprised that his heart sank. All along, he had never wanted to go on this journey, but after nearly a year of searching, it was somehow disappointing.
"Bah," Galahad started, but Methos held his hand up to stop him.
"The old man is right. It is not my destiny to discover the Grail."
"But," again Galahad wanted to object, but this time the old man interrupted.
"Sir Galahad, it is you and one other knight who shall find it. You are the great one, and shall need to seek out Sir Percivale for help."
The young knight looked dumbfounded for a moment. And then a smile spread across his face. "Then it shall be so. Sir Lancelot, what are you to do?"
Methos pondered the prophecy. He was not pure, not worthy. Then surely he did not belong in Camelot no longer. Arthur would question him about his return, and what would he tell him? The truth, ashamed as he was about it. But to reveal this to his king, his mentor, would be even more shameful.
It was, thus, time to move on. Time to change identities. This time, he would find the solitude he had once sought. Glancing back at the old man, he knew his thoughts were being read.
"You will find your path in life in due time," he said. "You are destined for greatness."
This statement, Methos thought, was absurd. When would he next meet an immortal, play the Game, and lose his head? But the old man said nothing.
Galahad shifted uncomfortably next to his companion. "I would be honored to be accompanied to Sir Percivale."
Methos nodded, and knew that his next adventure would probably be his last as a Knight of the Round Table. "We ride then?"
Galahad nodded, and they thanked the old man for his hospitality and wisdom. Two days later, they found Sir Percivale, reavealed the old man's prophecy, and Methos went his separate way. The young knight had promised to see him back in Camelot soon, but Methos didn't have the heart to tell him he was mistaken.
His ride, with no particular destination in mind, led him in the direction of Camelot. It had been the center of his being for over a decade. Correction, one resident had been the center of his being.
Guinevere. It was the first time he had thought of her in days. How he longed to touch her face again, taste her sweet lips. But he knew this would never happen. It was time for him to move on, to torture his or her life no longer.
Fate would have it that he was wrong. From within the forest he traveled, came a lone rider, wearing Arthur's colors. "You ride for Arthur?" Methos questioned.
"Aye, sir. It is you I seek, Sir Lancelot. The queen, she had been abducted by Meleagant, and King Arthur sent me for you. He had heard you were near the area. She is held captive at an abode near his father, King Bademagus' castle."
Methos nodded, fear taking hold of his heart. Guinevere was in danger. "Tell Arthur I will return with her soon." And with that, Methos rode in the direction of the Island Fortress.
He was rather relieved to find that his sleep had been dream free. Much more of this, and he was certain to lose his mind. How many times had he locked the dreams away? And how many times had they come back?
Methos sought the shower and rid himself of the stench the previous night's sweat had taken. The hot water was soothing, and he stayed there longer than he intended. Work on the chronicles, he reminded himself, was his entire purpose for being here in Seacouver.
But, a quick stop by Joe's for a beer he could fit into his schedule. Besides, much of what happened last night, he didn't remember, like when he fell asleep.
By the time Methos left for the bar, it was approaching dark. Man, I must have slept all day, he thought. He was feeling much better, though, after the long rest. Now he felt he could control his thoughts much better.
He wasn't prepared for what hit him when he arrived at Joe's. The crowd was just starting to arive. The band had not begun yet. But the bar was full, and one certain chestnut haired woman was there talking to Joe.
Just the sight of her back and her hair sent his heart soaring. A lump formed in his throat, and he knew that he couldn't face her. Not now, not after his dreams. How could he? The memories were too much.
He turned and shoved his way past a couple of newcomers and found himself back outside, in the fresh air. Gasping for it, he leaned against the wall. Why, oh why, did he come here?
Several moments later, Joe appeared. "Hey, you okay?" But he knew the answer to that. Joe had seen the way Methos fled at the sight of Kiernyn. What did she have to do with all of this?
Methos shook his head. "Too much sleep, I think."
There he goes again, Joe thought. Always has a sarcastic remark. "Any more dreams?"
Again Methos shook his head, but said no more. Joe put his hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you come in for a drink?"
Sheer terror crossed the immortal's face. The Watcher nearly stumbled back. "Methos, what is wrong? Tell me so I can help. Keeping this to yourself is doing no good. Don't be stubborn now. I've never seen you like this."
"I...I can't go in there," Methos stammered and turned away from Joe. How it pained him to reveal his weaknesses.
"It's Kiernyn, isn't it?" was all Joe said.
Silence ensued for what seemed like hours. "Okay," Joe broke it. "I've got to get back to my customers."
He started to reenter the bar, but Methos' whisper stopped him. "It's her."
Joe puzzled over his statement. Did he mean it was her that was bothering him, or did he mean she played a role in this mess he was unsure of? "I don't understand."
Methos gulped. "You know when Garret attacked her, he didn't attack her for the fun of it. It's her...it's Guinevere."
Shocked and speechless for a moment, Joe's mouth hung open. Guinevere, Arthur's queen? From fifteen hundred years ago? Well, that wasn't so odd considering the man before him was over five thousand years old. "You mean she's immortal?"
"No, she's not. But she looks like her, her eyes are the same, I can sense she's inside, in her soul. Gareth must have also. He was using her to get to me."
Joe realized, then, the reasoning for Methos' behavior. Apparently the tales had been true, Guinevere and Lancelot and their love affair. From what Methos had revealed to him already, he had adored Arthur, thought of him as a father. What this must have done to them all.
Methos knew what his friend was thinking. He would have figured it out soon enough, the way he had been babling his past off to him. Might as well tell him the whole thing, at some point, but now was not good. "I froze when I saw her just now. I don't think I can stand to be near her."
"You know you're going to have to face her sooner or later. Besides, she's got something that I think you might want to see," Joe revealed.
Dread overcame Methos. "He's been in contact with her again, hasn't he?"
Joe could only nod. He opened the door, just as two new arrivals came up, and let them in. Then, he ushered Methos to do the same. Slowly, the older of the two came off the wall and followed the others inside.
Her back was still to them, and for that Methos was grateful. He was still going to have to gather up the courage to face her. Joe sensed this and went back to his post behind the bar, and let Methos do what he needed to do.
Kiernyn smiled when Joe returned. "You take care of it?"
For a moment, he didn't know what she was talking about, and then he remembered his excuse for leaving her. "Oh, yeah. It's taken care of."
She could tell he was distant now, but she let it slide. Her news had been disturbing, at least to her. For some unknown reason, she had come to Joe's to reveal her trouble. From last night's episode, she supposed that his and Adam's help had been what triggered her instinct.
"Well, hello," came a familiar voice from behind her. She turned to see Adam, the subject of her thoughts.
"Hi Adam," she greeted him with relief. He was the one she truly wanted to confide in. "Have a seat." She gestured to a just emptied bar stool next to her.
Joe set a mug of beer before him without having to be asked. He knew his buddy would need it. And Methos took a gulp like he really needed it. "How are you doing?" he asked Kiernyn, as if nothing had happened a few minutes ago. Joe admired his restoration.
"Well, I think he's after me again," she confided, with all the fright of a little mouse.
"The guy from last night?" Methos asked, incredulous. "Did you see him again?"
Kiernyn shook her head. "I got this at work today. It came in this big envelope, but it didn't have a return address."
From the envelope, she pulled out a piece of a garment, blue and a note attached to it. Methos took it from her hands and carefully examined it. It was from a tunic, it bore the white cross outlined in gold. The tunic he had once worn. On the note, was written in elegant bold letters, "Where is you gallant knight now?"
He glanced up at Joe and confirmed his suspisions with a nodd. Gareth was using Kiernyn to get to him. "Do you have some relatives out of town you could stay with?" he asked her suddenly.
Kiernyn shook her head. "No, Kevin's all I've got. You don't think he'll come after me again?"
"I'm not certain," Methos lied. He knew Gareth would, and next time, he would do his best to harm her. "But it might be a good idea if you left town for a while. Think you could persuade your brother to go on a trip?"
"I can't just leave work like that. It's a bank, important things must be done everyday."
Methos was adamant. "Call in and tell them you've got the flu. It's for your own good."
Kiernyn was starting to get annoyed. "Why don't you just call the police?"
Joe interfered this time. "It's not that simple, Kiernyn. This guy can not be dealt with by the police. We can't explain it to you. You just have to trust us."
Deep inside, she knew she could. They were trying to protect her. Why, she didn't know. There was more to it than just her protection, but she knew they weren't going to reveal that. "Just tell me one thing. You guys aren't with the mob are you?"
Methos chuckled for the first time that day. Oh, how good it felt. "No, I'm afraid not, my dear."
Kiernyn smiled as well. She sensed that he needed the amusement. "Okay, I'll see if I can convince Kevin to go somewhere, but do you know how hard that will be?"
"I can do something about that. Just give me a couple of hours, and I'll have a gig set up somewhere away from here for his band. He wouldn't object to you going, would he?" Joe asked.
"He shouldn't. I've done it before. I'll just tell him this is my vacation time."
Joe nodded and took his leave of them, but not before he consulted Methos with a look. Kiernyn nearly missed it, but she caught the exchange between the two. She wondered what was going on.
The man beside her was quiet, worse than last night. At least he wasn't grumbling like he had been. Something about him intrigued her. Somehow, she thought they were connected. Perhaps by the woman he claimed she reminded him of. But she didn't know who that was and how close the connection was.
"What are you thinking?" she asked him.
He was taken off guard. His glass clunked on the bar by accident, sloshing the contents, a little escaping out onto the bar. Methos absently wiped at the drops with this fingers. What would he tell her? That she was the object of his thoughts the last twenty-four hours? But, actually, it had been the "real" Guinevere that had invaded his thoughts. But would he tell her that in some form, that's who she was? Ludicrous.
"You're thinking about here, aren't you?"
His golden green eyes came to rest on her inquisitive brow. "And what makes you think that?"
"I don't know. Although I don't really know you, you seem distant. Why are you here? In the states, I mean?"
"Curious, aren't we?" he commented, searching for the jovial banter he usually used. "Well, I'm actually a grad student, and I'm doing research. Seacouver has an amazing library."
"So I've been told," Kiernyn agreed. "What are you researching?"
Before he could think, he said, "Twelfth century literature." Oh, now he could shoot himself. What had he been thinking?
She nodded. "So like King Arthur and those knights of his?"
Methos took another swig of his beer. "Something like that."
"Going to be an English professor then? Am I bothering you with these questions?" she asked as she notices the second quick trip he had made to his beer mug to hide his shock.
Methos shook his head. "Oh no. Not at all. And yes, teacher. That's what I'm going to do. Wanted to be at the college level, but I've still got a ways to go."
Kiernyn didn't know if she could believe him or not. Something about their conversation had made him uneasy, or maybe it was just her. Joe came to their rescue.
"How does Los Angeles sound? That's a ways from here. Got him a gig, now I'll just call and persuade him to go," the Watcher informed them. "Everything all right here?"
"Of course," Methos was quick to respond, and Kiernyn nodded her head. Strange, Joe noted, but he knew Methos' reasoning.
"I should be getting home. Seems like I'm going to have some packing to do," Kiernyn commented. She turned to Methos. "Would you mind taking me, Adam?"
He nearly choked. "She came here by cab," Joe said quickly, to cover for his friend. "It might be a good idea if one of us takes her."
Methos looked to Joe. Could he do this? Be alone with her? What he was going to have to do is overcome his weakness, and the only way to do that was to face it head on. "I'll gladly take you. Whenever you're ready."
Kiernyn smiled. "Let me get my coat."
Joe, concerned, questioned Methos about this. "Are you sure you want to?"
"I need to face this sometime or other. I'll be fine," he assured.
Joe smiled weakly. "Come back when you see her safely home. I've got to go over this with you since we didn't get to last night."
"Okay," the immortal agreed and headed for the door where Kiernyn waited for him.
It was just nearing the ten o'clock hour so it was fairly dark. Methos cursed himself for not bringing the car. They would have to walk. He just prayed that there would be no run-ins tonight.
They walked down the street in silence. Methos was sure to put her on the inside of the sidewalk, putting himself between her and the road as a true gentleman would do. But being a gentleman was not what was on his mind. His thoughts lingered back to his dream, and how he had confessed his sin to Guinevere. To hold her again...
Kiernyn decided to stop whatever thoughts were running through Adam's head. They were torturing him, she could see. "So, how long have you known Joe?"
Methos was drawn back to the present. "Oh, I'd say about five years or so. I met him in Paris. You know, he use to own a bookstore there. As you can guess, I got to know him real well."
"You attend school in Paris?"
Methos nodded. Had to keep the charade going. He had done so for so long now with the Watchers, which reminded him of his presence in Seacouver, to work on the Chronicles. "I'm what you call a career student, I guess you could say."
"There's nothing wrong with that, if you can afford it," she replied.
He chuckled. She was leading the way because he obviously did not know where she lived. He looked up to the sky. "Well, ooh, look at those stars tonight. Though it's cold, it sure is clear."
"That's one thing I've always enjoyed..." she said, straining to see his face instead of the stars. The stars did provide some light, but not quite enough to catch the emotions on his face. Noticing her gaze, he paused to look at her closely, causing her to stop. Once again, he noticed those deep azure eyes and he fumbled for words. "Star gazing, right?" Under the close scrutiny of his gorgeous eyes, she had forgotten what they had been talking about. Standing there, on the sidewalk, he waited for her response, but could tell by the way she was now gazing at him, that she wouldn't find one.
It was if he was there again, with his love, and doing the only thing he knew he wanted to do, he leaned forward and captured her lips with his.
Kiernyn didn't know if she had expected it, but she knew she hadn't expected the longing with which he kissed her. He was ravenous for something she didn't know she possessed. But she returned the kiss, for she too felt something that had been between them since she first saw him the previous day.
Methos' hand went to her face, and he turned her so that he would have better access. The kiss deepened, and something inside of him screamed to stop, but at the same time, something else welcomed the sensations he was feeling. He knew she felt it too, and for the first time, he realized that it wasn't Guinevere he was kissing.
He pulled away suddenly and became the distant person he had been back at the bar. "I'm so sorry," he began, but she put a finger to his lips. Oh, the memories were going to kill him.
"Don't apologize," she whispered. "I feel it too."
He had the look of a puppy to him at that moment, looking so innocent and not knowing what to do. Kiernyn reached for his hand and squeezed tight. "Will you take me home now?"
Methos nodded, and squeezed back. At that moment, an understanding was known. There was something between them, they agreed upon, but only Methos knew what that something was.