He was dreaming. For a man with 5000 years of memories Methos' dreams were remarkably sedate. Familiar images danced through his sub-conscious mind. Past and present met. Father, mother, wives, lovers, friends, enemies, eras, day and night. He drifted past them all anxious for where he knew he was headed. He was tossing and turning, sending his pillow to the floor followed closely by his down comforter. His sleep deepened and the random images faded. He relaxed. Face down on his mattress now he sank into a near coma state. The scene became clearer. He was once again by the lakeside garden near his birthplace. Dew dripped from the leaves telling him it was nearly morning. As always the air was fresh and filled with the scents of the flowers all around. He strode toward the lake to his favorite spot on a rock overhanging the water.
Something was different today. An immortal was nearby. He sensed her before he saw her standing in the trees. Her back was to him. As he approached her from behind he realized she was humming. The song was familiar to him. Even his dream self could remember how it felt when she was near. She didn't have to let him feel her presence; her kind could control it. That she allowed her presence to be known was a gift. She was wearing white that seemed impossibly bright in the dimness of the morning. Her auburn hair that hung past her waist was tied loosely with golden cords. He stopped a few feet behind her. She was who he had always looked for, but until today she had never appeared. Why was she here now?
"Kiris?" he queried.
"Methos," she said, acknowledging his presence. He remembered her low, impossibly smooth voice.
"I'm dreaming," he stated flatly.
"Yes," she confirmed. She was listening to the morning song of the birds with her eyes shut.
His throat tightened with disappointment. He breathed deeply a few times before inquiring.
"How did you get here? I've been here many times and never seen you until now," said Methos.
She looked at the ground, hugging herself against the chill of the morning air. "Then you remember me? I thought 5000 years and 68 wives might have replaced my memory," she said lowly, with no bitterness.
"I've never forgotten you," he said forcefully, "Never."
He saw her relax a little. A sigh escaped her lips.
"I've missed you every day since you've been gone," he said hoarsely.
"I miss you too," she said in almost a whisper. He moved closer to her. She barely came up to his shoulders. Had she always been this tiny?
"How much time do we have?" he asked, shutting his eyes against the answer.
"You're already waking. I'm sorry. You have to go now. Someone's coming," she said knowingly. He saw a tear slide off her cheek joining the dew on the grass at her feet.
Things were already looking fuzzy. He fought against it, not wanting to leave so soon, but he was drifting back away from her and there was nothing he could do.
"Kiris?" he called, anguished.
Her voice echoed in his head, "I'll be here waiting." She was already fading as her eyes met his. Their blue shimmered with unshed tears. And then she was gone. The garden was gone and he was drifting back through the images.
As he returned to consciousness he thought he heard a voice right beside his head call to him "Methos?"
He awoke with a start, sitting upright and reaching for her. His sheets had him mummified. His unfocused eyes searching the room wildly.
"Kiris!?!" he cried
He was out of bed, but not entirely stable on his feet. He stumbled toward the kitchen blinking rapidly to try and get some moisture in his eyes. The moisture came all too soon. He couldn't feel her anywhere.
"Not fair!!!" he howled, angrily hitting the wall with his fist.
He fell back against the wall and sank to the floor. His chin was on his chest and his hands hung limp at his side as he let out his frustration. Slowly his racking sobs subsided and that's when he heard it. He pushed himself up the wall into a standing position and strained to hear. He couldn't tell where it was coming from, but someone was humming Kiris' song. His heart started to pound like it was going to jump out of his chest. He ran to the door and flung it open. It was a severely chilly and damp morning, but he didn't feel a thing as he peered out into the dimly lit morning. In frustration he realized he couldn't hear the humming over the sound of his own heart in his ears. It was still there though, and he had to follow it. He ran, heedless to the fact that he was not dressed appropriately for the weather and was sans shoes. Down the block he ran and into the waterfront park in pursuit of the voice. The morning mist made it impossible to see more than a hundred yards or so and he could tell that the voice was farther away than that.
"WAIT!!" he yelled in the direction he thought the voice was coming from.
Just then he felt the presence of another immortal. He stopped short and his adrenaline started to skyrocket. It had to be her!
"Methos?" two shocked yet amused voices blurted out.
Methos whirled around to see MacLeod and Amanda trying hard not to laugh out loud.
"Good morning, Old Timer," MacLeod said through a smile.
"Nice boxers," Amanda said with a twinkle in her eye and a giggle in her voice.
At that moment the ancient immortal realized how inappropriately he was dressed to be milling about in a public place. But he was beyond caring.
"Oh, shut up," the 5000-year-old snapped at both of them. He was in no mood to chit-chat with the longtime lovers. He started back toward home, ignoring their puzzled looks.
He called back over his shoulder, "You didn't hear a voice did you?" knowing what the answer would be.
"A voice?" Amanda called confused.
"Never mind!" was his curt reply as he got farther away. "Goodbye," he said, knowing he was too far away for them to hear.
Before the door of his flat even had a chance to close out the cold, Methos was halfway under the covers of his torn apart bed. His head sank into the pillow he had retrieved from the floor. His eyes stared out into his room not seeing. He knew he wouldn't sleep the rest of the night.
"Did he ask if we had heard a voice?" Amanda asked Duncan.
"Yeah. Maybe he thought he heard something. But that doesn't explain why he was running around the waterfront mostly naked," MacLeod puzzled.
"Do you think the mind starts to go when you get to be that old?" Amanda asked inquisitively .
"Probably. I guess you'll find out before I do, old girl," Duncan said as he embraced her tightly to prevent the inevitable slug.
"Old Girl!?!" Amanda fairly screeched, "Oh, you're gonna pay for that, Slave!"
He let her go and she started away from him at a leisurely pace, knowing that he was following with a smug look on his all too handsome face.
"Whaddya mean 'Slave?'" he asked amused.
"That kind of comment cannot go unpunished!" she stated icily.
"Uh-oh," was MacLeod's only comment.
"Back rubs for a month!" she announced.
"Okay," he said, a little too submissively.
"Jewelry!" she charged.
"Yup," he said nodding his head knowingly.
"And…….you have to paint my toenails," she said with a lift of her perfect eyebrows and an innocent bat of her eyelashes.
"Amanda," he whined, "you know I hate that."
"Penance, my love, penance," she said lightly, and grabbed his hand for the walk home.
When darkness came that night, Methos, who hadn't moved out of bed all of that day, stayed put. He hadn't even answered the door when Joe had come at MacLeod's request. He didn't move when Joe came back three hours later either. He had lain there, wide awake, yet unseeing, all day. It was deep into the night when he finally felt his consciousness leaving him. He sighed deeply as sleep overtook him.
That's when he heard it again. The voice outside his window.
"Not again." He sighed climbing out of bed and grabbed the pants that were on the chair by his bed.
"I'm not chasing you again without clothes."
Just before he opened the door he grabbed his sword, just in case.