Snippet: Highlander

A bit from a story that’s probably never going anywhere, but was fun to write anyway, even unfinished.

AU: NOS
Characters: Methos, Duncan MacLeod, Zoya Selivestrova (OFC)

Zoya stays out of easy reach of either man while they talk, and Duncan introduces her. The sudden blankness of Methos’ face makes her tense and frown a little, wary and worried until he relaxes. She’s still not sure what to make of him, since all she has to go on is stories of a time thousands of years past. She glances at Duncan, curious herself what he wants, and willing to wait until the conversation has an opening she’s willing to use.

“The truth,” MacLeod says. “And I want to know *why*.” His voice breaks on the last word, and Methos can see the pain in his eyes. It stabs at him, and he has to look away.

“Things were different then, MacLeod. The whole bloody world was different. And so was I.” He glances at Zoya. If she was Silas’ student, she’s probably heard the worst of it already, so he takes a deep breath and continues. “I was so *angry*. I was already old, and so tired of losing everything I cared about over and over again; tired of disease and starvation and slaughter. And then I met Kronos. By the time I left the Horsemen, I could barely tell where he left off and where I began.”

It tells her a little about who he was, but Zoya isn’t as interested in that as Duncan is. Then, she’s heard a lot about the Horsemen from Silas, and she’s more curious about why someone her teacher respected so much never tried to contact him again. Why he’d walked off, and abandoned all of them – though she’s fairly certain it’s just as well in the case of Caspian and Kronos, from the stories Silas told her. “Did you have to leave them all behind to just get away from Kronos?” she asks quietly, though she’s more asking if he had to cut off contact with Silas than anything else.

“No. I had to do that to get away from myself,” Methos answers. “It was a long time before I could live with people again, instead of on the most isolated bit of Holy Ground I could find. I had to make a clean break of it.”

“Like an alcoholic, or a drug addict,” MacLeod murmurs. It’s startling, coming from him, and Methos can’t help the faint rush of hope that rises up in his chest.

“Exactly like,” he says, nodding at MacLeod. “The power – ” He closes his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath before reopening them. “The power is addictive. A clean break was the only way to go.” Glancing over at Zoya, he adds, “I do keep an eye on Silas, though. I have almost the entire time.”

She smiles at that, making a mental note to mention that the next time she went home. Zoya thinks it’s something Silas might appreciate knowing, if he thinks much about it. Glancing at the car behind Methos, she tilts her head. “You’re leaving to avoid losing yourself in it again, aren’t you?” A thought is brewing in the back of her mind, and she hesitates a moment before making the offer. “Perhaps, if you need to hide, you can come back home with me? Silas would probably like to see you again.”

The desire to accept Zoya’s offer is very nearly overwhelming. Methos would like nothing better than to be able to hide for a while, to have the pleasure of Silas’ uncomplicated companionship again.