The Methos Chronicles: Lady Madonna By Mina-Clare Moseley Synopsis: Episode 2 of "The Methos Chronicles". Methos must deal with the loss of someone special to him, while dealing with the grief of a friend. Rating: PG-13. Heavy language. Archive: Seventh Dimension and anyone else who wants it. Author's Notes: This is Episode 2 in the 13 episode season. For more information on the Methos Chronicles series check out: http://straykitty.com/deargirl/methos/fanfiction/chronicles Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Davis-Panzer Entertainment. This is non-profit fan fiction. **** Dr. Mallory slowly opened the bedroom door, going to the young woman in the hallway. "He's fading fast, Ms. Morgan. I'm so sorry.... I don't think he'll make it through the night." Roberta nodded. "Thank you so much, Doctor." She went into the bedroom, hugging herself. "Hey Micky...." she took his trembling hand. "Do you recognize me?" The old man nodded. His voice was raspy as he attempted to speak. "I could.... never forget.... Mum." Roberta kissed his hand. "I love you, honey. I wish.... I wish I could just hold onto you." "I.... love you.... Say..... Good-bye to.... Dad...." **** He is immortal. Born 5,000 years ago, the details of his birth have been lost to the ages. He will only fall with the strike of a sword and the loss of his head. He has been a healer.... A scholar.... A killer.... He is Methos. The Methos Chronicles Episode 2-- Lady Madonna Story by Mina-Clare Moseley and Fre Written by Mina-Clare Moseley **** The man known as Dr. Benjamin Roberts sauntered into Joe Dawson's half-finished bar. His walk was casual, cat-like. The expression on his face showed a self-confidence belying his youthful appearance. "The place is looking great, Joe," Methos called out. Joe Dawson was nowhere to be seen in the bar. "Joe?" The office door swung open and Joe walked out. He was dressed in a black suit, not even looking up to acknowledge Methos. "Is something up?" "Huh?" Joe looked up. "Yeah. I'm heading to a funeral. I just needed to get something from my office." "Funeral?" Methos was on immediate alert. Around Joe Dawson, funerals usually meant someone was murdered. "Who died?" "An old friend. Michael Marlowe. He taught me a lot." Methos' breath caught in his throat. He licked his suddenly dry lips. "Micky Marlowe died? How come no one told me?" "I didn't realize you knew Micky." Joe put on his jacket. "I knew him quite well." Methos replied. "When is it? Do I have time to go home and change?" Joe shook his head. "You can't go." "I have to Joe!" Methos insisted. "Where is it?" "Micky was part of the Watcher for nearly fifty years. The funeral is going to be crawling with them." Joe poked Methos in the chest. "And none of them are going to be too happy to see YOU." "You don't understand, I HAVE to go." "Why? How did you know Micky?" ***** ***1926-- London, England Methos gently held his companion's hands. "Stop trembling." Her cheeks tinged red. She bowed her head. "I'm just so nervous." "You've done this before." "I'm always nervous." "Hey." Methos ran his hand over her cheek. "I'm in on this deal too." The door opened, and a nun entered the room. "Dr. and Mrs. Marlowe?" Methos stood up. "Hello." He held out his hand. "I'm Adam Marlowe. This is my wife, Rachel." "Are you ready to meet him?" Methos nodded, keeping hold of Rachel's hand. "Bring him in." The nun escorted a dark-haired boy into the room. He was no more than five. He looked up at the two strangers with wide blue eyes. Kneeling down in front of the child, Methos smiled. "You must be Michael." The young child took refuge hiding behind the nun's black skirt. "Now, now, Micky," the nun cooed. "Dr. and Mrs. Marlowe are good people. They are going to take care of you." Michael raised his head to look at the Marlowes. "I'm leaving?" Methos nodded. "You're going to come live with us." Kneeling down next to the boy, Rachel smiled warmly. "I'd really like to be your mum." Michael's hand shook as he held it out to Methos. Slowly, Methos accepted it. "Come on, we're going to take good care of you." ***** "You never mentioned having kids." "I'm five thousand years old. There's not much I haven't done." Methos slumped down. "Micky wasn't the first. He's the only one that's still al.... The only one from the twentieth century." Shaking his head, Joe sighed. "Come on, you got time to get a suit on." Methos raised his head, giving Joe a small smile. "Thanks. This means a lot to me, Dawson." "Ah, you would've found a way there." "He's my son," Methos replied, striding out the door. "Of course I would have found a way." Joe got into the passenger's seat of Methos' car. "How did you do it? Raise a child without him or your wife finding out?" "Micky and Rachel knew I was immortal." Starting the car, Methos let out a deep sigh. "Rachel always knew. Micky was about twelve when he figured out dad wasn't aging." "Smart kid." They started driving towards Methos' home. "Were you two close?" "I'd rather not talk about it. I just want to say goodbye to Micky." ***** Michael Marlowe's home was an old stone monument in the Northern area of Oxford. It had been in his family for a hundred years now. Going to the door, Methos waited a moment. He ran his hand over the doorknob, trying to find the courage to go in. "Methos? You okay?" Joe whispered. Methos remained completely calm, his face set like it was etched in marble. The immortal just kept running his fingers over the brass doorknob. ***** ***1928-- Oxford, England Methos was coming up the driveway when he heard a cry of pain. He recognized it immediately. Micky was hurt. Dropping his bag, he broke in a dash towards the house. The small boy was curled up on the porch. His body was wracked with sobs. His tiny hands were covered in deep red blood. "Micky!" Methos fell to his knees, moving Micky's hands. "What happened?" "I-I was running. I tried opening the door and--" Digging in his pocket, Methos produced a hankercheif. He put it to Micky's bloody nose. "Do you want me to check it out?" Micky wiped the tears from his face as he nodded the affirmative. Methos moved the cloth, examining Micky's nose. It was just a bloody nose, nothing more. He would be fine. "Hmmm... Well, I think I'm going to have to cut it off." "Dad!" Micky cried. His eyes became as wide as saucers. "I'm just teasing you. I prescribe a lesson in learning out to open the door." He dug in his pocket, searching around. He produced a hard candy. He kept several with him, whenever he got fussy child patients. "And this." Micky took the candy eagerly. "Thanks, Dad." "Now, you have to be more careful about going into the house. Don't run inside." Methos ruffled Micky's dark brown hair. "Your mum will have a fit." ***** "Methos, before we go in," Joe held Methos back as he began to open the door. "Just think about it a moment. Do you really want yourself this open to the Watchers?" "Hell, Joe.... I've got Wyatt on my tail, plus the two Amys back in research. Any more Watchers would be a waste of manpower." "You don't have to go in there to say good-bye to Micky." Joe looked away from Methos. "Mick didn't want a big deal made. His last wishes were that his friends and family come over for a party. That's it. He doesn't want people to mourn him." "I'm not here to mourn," Methos opened the door. "I'm here to comfort." ***** Methos identified every face almost immediately. The living room of the Marlowe home has maybe thirty people in it. Most of them were Watchers, the high-ranking ones. Maybe five or so were Micky's relatives. His duties as a Watcher kept Micky from having a large family. The few relatives he did had written him off as an eccentric old man. Methos felt a tingle down his spine. An immortal. "Excuse me, Joe." He went up the large staircase. A young man approached Joe. He was tall, with handsome features. His light brown hair was long, hanging over his eyes. "Methos. You brought Methos to Michael's funeral." "Warren." Joe rolled his eyes, shrugged nonchalantly. "I didn't bring him. He came." He sighed, looking at the retreating immortal. "He's 'Doc', isn't he?" "Excuse me?" "Long story. Needless to say, it'll fill in the Chronicles a little more." "Just what in the world are you talking about?" ***** Methos had so many memories in this house. It was true he had forgotten much of his life, but he could never forget this place. He went to the last room. He used to sleep in there. He grasped the doorknob, opening it. The buzz in his body grew louder. A young woman sat on the bed. She was clad in a modest black dress. Her vibrant red hair was swept up in a bun. Her hand rested on a broadsword. "I thought it was you." She looked up. "I didn't know if you would come." Methos knelt down in front of her, cupping her face. He tilted her chin, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips. He kept his eyes shut, not moving from the spot once they had broken apart. "Of course I came, Rose. Micky was our son." "I've been numb. Completely numb." "I understand," he replied, running his thumb over her jawline. "I know how much Micky meant to you. I know how much he meant to me." "He gave up. He just *gave up*. He hadn't been well for so long.... Then when Jeanette died...." "Jeanette....." ***** ***1943-- Paris, France "Don't you look handsome," Rose whispered, straightening Micky's tie. "Very dashing. Exactly like your father." The young man grinned, brushing Rose's hands away. "Mum, I'm adopted." "Regardless, I see a lot of similarities." She fixed Micky's boutonniere. She then brushed his hair with her fingers. "Maybe that's one of reasons he loved you so much. You looked like his son." Looking down, Micky's eyes became suddenly sad. "I thought he would be here. It's my wedding day." "Oh, Micky...." Rose clutched his hands tightly. "I know he would want to be here. I just don't know if he knows. Your father has avoided battles for a hundred and fifty years." "Does that mean he has to avoid us?" "That's not what I meant. It scared him when we got attacked. He was more afraid for your safety than his." "I'm not a child anymore, Mum. Dad should know I can take care of myself." "I should go." Rose placed a kiss on Micky's cheek. "Don't want Jeanette thinking your 'friend' is stealing her future husband." "She knows, Mum." He showed off his freshly tattooed wrist. "We both wear this. We both know of immortals." Rose smiled again as she stood in the door. "I'm so proud of you." After a few moments of adjusting his tie in the mirror, Micky noticed a figure climbing in the window. "I thought she would never leave." Whirling around, Micky's eyes grew wide. "Dad?" "What? Were you expecting someone else?" "What-- Why-- How--" Methos clapped Micky's on the shoulder. "You forgot who, where and when." "I'm just in shock. What are you doing here?" "I couldn't miss my son getting married." "Why didn't you want Mum to see you?" Methos shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Well, when I saw her at your graduation, she had a boyfriend. I thought it best not to complicate things." "I haven't seen you in--" "Five years. I know, Mick. I've meant to come see you. You're, however, rather high profile these days." "So you heard?" Nodding, Methos smiled. "You're watching Darius. He's a good man." "I know Darius doesn't go anywhere, but I'm still nervous about the assignment." "You'll do wonderfully." He grew somber, his expression changing from a man of twenty-something, to a father. "I want you to be happy, Mick. Use your time wisely. Don't let Jeanette go. I know you love her." "How do you--" "You aren't the only person who can watch." Methos smiled. "I just want you to know.... I never wanted to leave you. I've never been able to stay in one place for long." Micky hesitantly pulled his father into a hug. He pulled back, wiping a tear away. "I have to go out there. Are you going to stay?" "I'll watch the ceremony, from a distance. Don't worry.... I won't miss a thing." **** TO BE CONTINUED....