Letting Go
Author: Sin
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Methos and Duncan belong to Panzer/Davis, while Richie is swimming in the River. I am just abusing them for my own ends here.
Notes and thanx:
- To Teri, my favourite wicked wench and erstwhile partner in crime, who gave me the acorn of the idea that slowly germinated into this strange piece of fiction.
- To Arachne, for sending me the poem (If I Could Tell You - W.H. Auden) in the first place.
Archive: If you want it, you're scaring me! =)
Feedback: Please! I grovel in your general direction.
<< >> Indicate thoughts
~~~
To any normal passerby the man sitting quietly on the park bench, his unfocused gaze fixed on the ground as he rested his elbows on his knees, looked to be nothing more than a slightly scruffy looking student. A graduate student from the University, the jeans and baggy sweater a nod to the standard student uniform. But to a select few, the young-looking man was a threat, a prize and a mystery all wrapped up in one deceptively innocent package.
Adam Pierson, the mild mannered alter ego of the world's oldest living man, was lost in thought. His mind was twisting itself around the incontrovertible fact that had been plaguing his mental meanderings for the past three hours.
<< Time only knows the price we have to pay, and the time has come for that price to be paid in full. >> He tried to shy from the thought, but the realization that he must sacrifice the one thing that made his long existence worthwhile was irrefutable. And no matter how he tried to turn the issue, twist it into a form that would suit his needs, he could see so other solution. No choice that would make this any easier on him, or in any way understandable to the people that he cared about - the ones that he loved.
Shaking his head sadly, his eyes finally focusing once again on his hands as they dangled loosely between his knees, he sighed heavily and slowly got to his feet. His muscles protested the enforced stillness of the past hours while his mind had wrestled with the unaccustomed futility of his options. Stretching to ease the cramped sinews, he felt his back crackle in response and then the warmth of satisfaction radiate as the long stationary tendons and cartilage settled once again into their proper positions.
The warmth faded quickly as his mind once again settled on the irreversible nature of the decision he had finally come to accept. Shivering slightly, he quickly pulled on his coat, the shudders easing as the comforting weight of his sword settled itself against his side.
<< No more stalling, Old Man. It's time. >> He muttered silently to himself, as he turned and purposefully walked towards the familiar red brick building.
~~~~
It was an uncharacteristically solemn Methos that walked out of the elevator and into the loft. For a moment he stood, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat as if attempting to surround himself in a warmth that would melt the ice that had invaded his soul. Silently, he removed his coat and draped it over the back of the couch, before liberating a beer from the refrigerator and settling himself into a comfortable sprawl.
Idling picking at the label as he immersed himself once again within the boundaries of his own mind, he didn't notice the look of concern that passed between the two other occupants of the room.
"Methos?" The query came enriched by the slight burr of one of Scotland's favourite sons. "Are you all right?"
Feeling his heart break just a little more, Methos closed his eyes to savour the pain before turning to meet the warm concern that wreathed across the brown eyes of the Highlander, as he placed his beer on the table.
"I'm fine, MacLeod. Just thinking." Glancing away again, he vaguely heard Richie comment, "Well, at least he's not inflicting it on us." As his mind started circling, like a vulture, around the same thought once again.
<< I love you more than I can say … >> Methos looked once again at the embodiment of his desire, the one thing in his world that made his existence worthwhile. He let his eyes trace slowly down the tanned curve, the beauty of the line calling him, making him wish that he could touch, enshroud and hold on forever. But life, especially immortal life, was full of uncertainties. The only given was that death was waiting, and he refused to let that knowledge impinge on the bittersweet nature of the connection between them.
<< If I could tell you I would let you know … >> He sighed softly to himself, images flashing across his inner world. Memories. Dreams. They all entwined, intermingled, until reality and fantasy became one. << I must resist this temptation, this wish to immerse myself in the sweetness of your embrace and the ecstatic agony that I would find there. For I can't tell you any of this, and all my wants are pipe dreams, for I know that what I feel for you can never be returned. >>
As he watched, a single bead of perspiration slowly threaded its way down the tanned neck. His eyes followed the path that it transversed, his gaze riveted on the sensual glide of liquid over that tanned expanse. His tongue flickered out to lick his lips, wishing instead that he was lapping that glistening drop, drawing the taste into his mouth.
Realising the path his thoughts were taking him, Methos mentally shook himself, sending the sensual thoughts scattering like pigeons. << Dammit! I'm definitely too old for unrequited lust. This has got to stop! >>
Scrambling up from his sprawl on the couch, he stood and ran a hand through his hair. His head whirled with the chaos of his thoughts, as he argued with himself.
<< … run away … >>
<< … take hold … >>
<< … avoid the temptation … >>
<< … succumb to it … >>
<< … Run … >>
<< … Take … >>
<< … TAKE … >>
<< NO! >>
With that final, silently avowed denial, the world's oldest living Immortal grabbed his coat and left the loft as silently as he had entered. With one final look, he burnt the image of his love across his soul before he disappeared from view, only an unvoiced farewell lingering after him.
~~
"Mac, is it just me or is the old guy getting weirder?" Richie asked, as he turned to look at his mentor.
"Probably both." The Highlander returned with a teasing smile. "Can you grab his bottle and throw it in the trash."
Richie walked over and picked up the beer from the coffee table. Noting the weight of the bottle with surprise, he lifted it up to eye level to confirm his suspicion. "Umm, Mac. His bottle's still full." Astonished blue eyes flew to equally amazed brown.
"What?"
"He didn't drink any of his beer."
~~~
IF I COULD TELL YOU - W.H. Auden
Time will say nothing but I told you so,
Time only knows the price we have to pay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.
If we should weep when clowns put on their show,
If we should stumble when musicians play,
Time will say nothing but I told you so.
There are no fortunes to be told, although,
Because I love you more than I can say,
If I could tell you I would let you know.
The winds must come from somewhere when they blow,
There must be reasons why the leaves decay;
Time will say nothing but I told you so.
Perhaps the roses really want to grow,
The vision seriously intends to stay;
If I could tell you I would let you know.
Suppose the lions all get up and go,
And all the books and soldiers run away;
Will time say nothing but I told you so?
If I could tell you I would let you know.
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