As Methos approached his own front door the buzz of another Immortal hit him. Another old Immortal. He had a pretty good idea who that would be.

He pulled out his sword and carefully edged open the door. It was dark inside. The light did not respond when he threw the switch, so only the flickering uncertain glow of a candle lit the place. He crept forward carefully, trying to look everywhere at once.

“How you doing, ancient one? Have a beer.” Erin said from the sofa, throwing him a bottle. He lowered his sword and caught it.

“Mine, I suppose.”

“In a roundabout sort of way. You introduced me to the brewery, I still owe you a couple of bottles. Thought I’d settle it now.”

Methos walked around and sat on the other end of the sofa, propping his sword up next to him and opening the bottle. It was a rather good little speciality brew he had told her about right after the last world war. “I remember these. Thanks.” he took a long drink and savoured the taste a moment, wondering quite where to begin. Maybe she would make it easy for him.

“You need a new bulb in here. Lucky for you I’m still in the habit of carrying candles.” she drank a mouthful of her beer. “You, me, good beer, candle light. Just like old times.”

No, she wouldn’t make it easy. But then she never had.

“Erin... MacLeod.” he said simply.

“Yeah, the bastard of the year.” Erin replied.

“So you’re down to one a year?”

“Oh, not usually. But this sod is going to take work.”

How to make this quite clear? “Erin, drop it. Now. He doesn’t deserve one of your lessons.”

She was silent for a moment, took another drink of beer. “Doesn’t deserve?” she said very quietly.

Methos recognised the tone. He casually dropped his hand down onto his sword again. Not that Erin had ever shown the inclination, but if she did with her skill he could be in trouble.

“Duncan MacLeod is my friend. He’s a good man. He doesn’t beat up kids or women, he doesn’t sell land mines, he isn’t your usual target.”

“Doesn’t hurt kids does he? Oh no. Just kills them. But I forget, Ryan was legally adult by the time MacLeod succeeded, wasn’t he?” Erin said, looking round into his eyes, her tone very dangerous.

Damn. She knew. Of course she knew. By this stage in the game she would know everything down to MacLeod’s shoe size. So, that approach wouldn’t work. “I assume you have something to teach me too?”

“Oh don’t worry, Methos, you aren’t really my pupil this time. In fact I rather hoped you’d be one of the teachers. Or at least the one that cleans the board when the lesson is done.”

“I won’t take Mac’s head.”

“Well that’s painfully obvious. What I cannot figure out is why.”

“He’s my friend. He’s been through some bad times recently. I stand by him.”

“He’s been through some bad times? More like he’s been some bad times. Methos, the man is a lunatic at best. From where I’m standing he looks more like a complete bastard. Have you counted how many heads he has taken these past few years? How many people he has killed? People who called him friend?”

“Sean Burns? Mac was controlled by a dark Quickening.”

“Like all the good things Darius did were because of the light Quickening? He was responsible for his actions. No Quickening can change ones fundamental nature. When he went for his student’s head that time it was his own idea. Or else why had he tried before.”

“You’re twisting things. The Dark Quickening pushed him into doing things he would never otherwise do. And before that he never attacked Richie on purpose.”

“No, before that it was because he was seeing things, or just for practice, or to train him. Listen to it Methos. Listen to the catalogue of rationalisations the man comes up with and see them for what they are. It wasn’t him, it was the demon, the drink, for the kids own good. The man is just the kind of bastard who beats up on his kid and makes out it’s the world’s fault.”

“Your own personal nightmare.”

“Damn right.” she took another gulp of beer and tried to pull herself together as memories of pain flashed through her eyes.

“Not right. Not about Duncan. There are excuses and rationalisations and justifications, and then there are reasons. Duncan MacLeod has always had good reasons.”

“Oh sure. And his good reason for taking his own son’s, his own student’s life?”

“There was a demon. It tricked him into killing Richie, but he beat it later.”

“You think this is news to me? You know I do better research than that. You should also know that the only demons I believe in are the ones that eat at the human heart. But lets take it as a hypothesis for now. You say he beat it?”

“Yes. He was the champion. The only one who could defeat it. He faced and killed it last year.”

“Killed, huh? You judge this demon beat by the fact that MacLeod walked away and it did not? That’s not the way such creatures keep score. Demons are after souls Methos, not lives, not bodies, not even heads. Whatever happens on the outside doesn’t count for anything. It’s the heart, the mind, the soul that is won or lost. The demon was not redeemed, so it was not beaten. And MacLeod fell, pretty bloody irredeemably in my book. Way I figure it, the demon won the moment MacLeod swung his sword. Either the Highlander would repent and kill himself, clearing the way for some bastard to be the One, or he would get over it, just live with what he had done and forgive himself for it, rationalise the action somehow, and keep going. Then even if he is the One, darkness wins.”

“Duncan is not an evil man.”

“Oh of course not. Why you can tell just by looking at him! Swanning around in white like dirt wouldn’t dare stick.” She snorted angrily, then took a breath and calmed down, a pained look passing across her face.

“Have you read many children’s books lately, Methos?” she asked. He shook his head, wondering where the sudden turn was going.

“I’ve had occasion to.” She said quietly, looking a little faraway. “It’s funny how they can see things so clearly sometimes. Not just the old stories, but the new ones too. The Dark is Rising, for instance. Tis a set of books by Susan Cooper, great adventures. In the last one we see all the forces of the Dark. Some wear black, but some wear white. Dark reaches the people at the extremes. See the ones in black, they’re the selfish ones. The twisted ones. Locked up in the darkness of their own heads. That’s not MacLeod, I know. He’d die for a cause he believed in. But the ones in white, they’re the ones blinded by their own shining ideas. Then there’s David Eddings, the Malloreon. In that Dark is the one crouched in it’s own perceived perfection. I could go on, if you like.” She looked over at Methos with challenge in her eyes. He did not reply. “Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod. So sure of himself. Always knows the right from the wrong. And of course he was in the right when he killed his student, his son, young Richie Ryan who saw not even two dozen years, when he could have had forever. It was the demon’s fault. See MacLeod is the champion, and he can do no wrong. You know Mr Eddings had it that the Light uses teamwork to get things done. There tis only the Dark chooses but a single champion. Tis the Dark’s arrogance that thinks one man is perfect enough to do it all alone. Like a certain stubborn Scot you seem so fond of. Duncan MacLeod, of the Dark. For now and for so long as we’re likely to live.”

There was silence for a moment as Methos tried to think of what to say in the face of reasoning like that. He could see what she meant. He could even see how someone could think such reasoning could apply to Mac. It was just, she didn’t know him. No one that spent time with him could see him that way.

>>So of course you aren’t doubting him even a little. >> Methos thought to himself sarcastically.

Fact was, he could see the Highlander like that. Hadn’t he thought his story about demons a sort of madness? But when friends go mad you get help for them, you don’t take their head.

“Erin... You keep on saying he doesn’t repent what he’s done, that he just gets on with his life. Well that is not the MacLeod I know. I don’t think he has forgiven himself for anything in his life.”

“Oh, so he mopes around a bit, indulges in angst for a while. Doesn’t seem to slow him down any racking up bedpost notches. And it hardly makes up for what he has done.”

“You said killing Richie was irredeemable. But you also talked about redeeming demons. Surely Duncan isn’t quite a demon yet?”

“So he hasn’t the practice and doesn’t go out looking for converts. Yet. You think he can be redeemed? What penance would you give him, a man who kills his own child? I can think of none that would be equal to the deed, none in this life at least and none that fits what time we have left here.”

“So you would condemn him, say his soul is lost, for one mistake?”

“Mistake, that he swung a sword through a man’s neck? And hardly once. Not even once these past few years! He goes around picking fights, taking heads I can’t see as justified. Friends, lovers, student, all dead. For goodness sake, Methos, he’s been killing mortals.”

“He defended himself. We are all warriors. Duncan MacLeod has always tried to fight for what is right.”

“You think that makes up for it? News flash, lover, watch his actions, not his justifications.”

“His motives are always good.”

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Come on, love, arguments like that make it too easy. Almost like you’re really on my side anyway.”

“I’m not going to kill Duncan. He’s a good man.”

“A man who kills and walks away happy. A man who wipes out his friends and kills his students and then just gets on with his life, hides out for just a year then turns up laughing and dating like nothing has happened. How can a man with that little heart be called a good man? He killed his student.”

“In case you forget I’m not exactly innocent when it comes to killing friends. Or killing without remorse. In fact I’d say he looks pretty amateur in comparison.”

“The horsemen thing. I know. So maybe in a few thousand years he’ll be tolerable again too. But we don’t have those thousand years. We might not even have a year. The Gathering is here, and many are saying that the Highlander is the one with the best chance of the Prize. If they knew you were backing him there wouldn’t be much argument about it.”

“I wouldn’t say I was backing him precisely..”

“Lady’s sake, Methos, you offered him your head. Name three others you’d do that for. Not me, however long you’ve known me, and that’s a fact.”

“Is that what this is about? That I offered him my head, and not you? Is that what you want from me?”

“Methos! Never. I couldn’t raise a sword to you. My head’s yours whenever you want it, you know that.”

“Actually I didn’t.”

“I did tell you.”

“In about 1350 wasn’t it? And I rather thought you were drunk at the time.”

“Never more sober, or serious. As I recall that was why you decided on another little trip to Tibet. Without me.”

“Really, Erin, I thought we’d worked that out.”

“Oh, I’m not mad about it. We did a rather good job of making up next time we bumped into each other.” smirk.

Methos was again tempted to fall back into that old pattern and try and get her to forget this crazy plan that way, but in the thousand years he had known her she had never once given up on a ‘lesson’ once it was started, however uncomfortable it had become for her. He sighed and got back to the matter at hand.

“Erin... I can’t let you kill MacLeod.”

“So take my head and problem’s solved.” she replied quiet and calm.

He winced. He knew he should have seen that one coming, but it still hurt. “Don’t say that. I love you.”

“And I love you. Which is why I’m not going to wait around for the next time the Scot goes nuts and kills whichever friend is handy.” Erin admitted, looking at the floor.

Methos paused and looked at her. “Please don’t tell me you are going to kill my friend for my own good. I can understand you being angry with him, but to do this for me...”

“Methos, I love you. A thousand years I’ve known you, I’ve rather become used to the idea of having you around. Most of the time I can even let myself not worry about you. You’re more than twice as old as me, you can take care of yourself. But with this one friend... maybe you think you see something in him. Maybe you have some convoluted plan for getting through the Gathering. Or maybe you don’t want to live through the Gathering. I can’t figure it out. But the more I learn about MacLeod, the more sure I become that as long as he lives you have a sword at your back that could turn on you at any moment. A man that could kill his son could kill anyone. And I know you could not beat him if he tried for you.”

“So you’ll kill him to protect me? Come on Erin, that’s never been your style. Judge, jury and executioner. Tisiphone the avenger. Not anyone’s bodyguard.”

“Well I’ve never had need before. And I’ve never.. felt so much for anyone before.”

“Erin, I care about Mac. He’s a friend. Don’t kill him.”

“Oh, I don’t intend to kill him. I intend to get you to kill him.”

“I told you. I will not take his head. Not even you could talk me into it.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I can be pretty persuasive.” Erin said archly, smiling at him and finishing her beer.

Methos made a peeved, stick to the topic face, which Erin ignored. She tossed her now empty bottle in the general direction of the bin, then snagged her bag and pulled it over to her. She rummaged around and found a couple of boxes which she pulled out and placed on the couch between them.

“Enough shop talk for the night, I think. Time for supper.”

Methos sighed and flipped the boxes open. He recognised the menu within. It was what they had for their last meal together, also in Paris a hundred years ago. Actually, it was what Erin made for him whenever she was feeling amorous. She was a creature of habit in many ways.

“Erin.. I’m not happy with you, remember?”

Erin raised a finger and corrected him with a smile. “You are annoyed with me. We have done the arguing, now we can do the making up afterwards.”

“And then you’ll go do whatever you have planned anyway.”

“So we get to make up again later.” She replied with her best cute and innocent shrug, then grinned. “Love... I call you all the time, but when was the last time we were on the same continent, let alone in the same bedroom?”

“We’re not in the bedroom.”

“Yet.”

Methos sighed and tried not to grin. She didn’t change. “I think you take me too much for granted, my love.” he said, gently caressing her cheek.

“I just know you. Not often enough, but I do know you.” she whispered, leaning forwards and kissing him.

He had not managed to persuade Erin to change her mind about Mac, though it had been a lot of fun trying. That left him with few palatable choices. He got up and decided to try and tackle the problem from the other end.