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. **** "Was it-- Did he--" Methos grasped for the words. "Did he feel any pain?" Rose shook her head. "His heart gave out. Like I said, he had been sick a long time. His body just couldn't take it anymore." "Who told you?" "I was there." Rose replied. "I've been taking care of Micky since Jeanette died. His children think I'm after his money." "You're kidding." "Micky thought it was hilarious." Rose said, her voice somewhere between amusement and bitterness. "He didn't leave me one red cent. I told him not to. He left most of it to the Watchers." "I heard he had amassed quite the fortune." He wrapped his arm around Rose's shoulder. "Why didn't you call me when he got sick?" "You haven't been great about leaving a forwarding address, Methos." "Things have been complicated the last couple of years." "So I've heard. Micky kept in touch with the Watchers. So your cover was blown?" "I was playing with fire." Methos sighed, looking closely at Rose. "How much have you been crying?" Rose shook her head. "I haven't." "I should have been able to tell." He cupped her chin. "You've never been able to hide your tears from me." ***** ***1926, Oxford, England "I most certainly have NOT been crying." Rose insisted, wiping her cheek. "I was chopping onions...." Methos wrapped his arms around Rose's waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I know you too well, Rosalyn. I kind of have an edge." "You wouldn't understand, Methos." She brushed him away. "Who says I wouldn't? Just talk to me, Rose. Come on, I'm a good listener." She looked down. "I'm lonely, Methos." He smiled. "If you want me to move in, all you have to do is ask." "That's not it. I want to adopt another child." "So what's stopping you?" "I can't adopt a child because I'm not married." Methos pulled back. "Oh. Well that is a problem." "I've never had this problem before. In the past, I've gone through Darius. But things are so different now. According to the laws, you have to be a happily married couple to adopt." "So get married." "To who?" she asked. "Well.... How about... Me?" Rose got up. "You. Methos. You said you would never marry an immortal." "I'm not." He crossed his arms. "When I said I wouldn't marry an immortal, I meant plan to spend every single day for the rest of eternity. Neither of us what that, right?" "After a decade or so, I can barely stand the sight of you." "If our current personas marry, it's not us. It's them. Then we can adopt a child." "You don't have a current persona." "I'll make one up! Come on, let's get married." "If you're really offering, okay." Methos pulled her close, kissing her. After they broke apart, Rose murmured. "So what number does this make me?" ***** Joe glanced around the room. Most of the faces he recognized as Watchers. He leaned against the wall. This was like no funeral he had ever been at. That was just the way Micky wanted it. In his early days as a Watcher, Joe had gotten to know Micky well. He always had a smile on his face, and was always willing to buy a pint of beer for his friends. His health was already declining when Joe knew him. But it didn't keep Micky down. He always acted like a kid. A woman passed Joe, sobbing into a handkerchief. "I can't believe he's gone," she wailed. "I tried to take care of him. He was so stubborn, refused to stay with me. He was becoming senile. He shacked up with that cheap tramp Roberta Morgan. My mother wasn't even cold!" "What a load of shit," someone muttered. Joe turned, looking for the owner of the mumbled voice. She was no more than a teenager. Her hair had been dyed black, blonde roots coming in. She had a pair of rose coloured sunglasses on. She wore a men's black sweater, which was impossibly large on her lanky frame. Her legs were clad in fishnet stockings, which were filled with runs. Joe furrowed his brow. The girl's name was Greta Marlowe. She was one of his apprentices, not yet a full Watcher. She was also Micky's great-niece. "Excuse me?" Joe asked. "She," Greta nodded towards the sobbing woman. "Hadn't seen Pops in ten years. She is putting on quite a show. She should know the will can't be changed now." She shook her head. "Some important people here. Make you look like small potatoes, Dawson." "I'm sorry about Micky, Greta." Greta shrugged. "It happens. Pops was ready to go." "If you don't mind me asking.... Who's Roberta Morgan?" "Didn't you just hear? She's a cheap tramp." Joe laughed, unconvinced. "Micky wasn't the type to shack up, Greta." "So you brought the Old Man?" Greta changed the subject, her voice filled with a mocking tone. "You're gonna be in trouble, Dawson." "He gave me a lift." "I thought Doc'd find a way here." She nodded, the corner of her mouth curling up. A young man approached Greta. He took her by the arm. "We have to talk." "Oh Doug, this is Joseph Dawson, my employer. Dawson, this my brother Douglas Marlowe." "I'm sorry for your loss, Douglas." Douglas shook Joe's hand, smiling sadly. "Thank you, Mister Dawson." He turned to Greta, muttering. "Did you know Doc was here?" "I did." She paused, thinking over Douglas' statement. What do you mean 'was'?" "He and mum left." "Is everything all right?" Joe asked. Greta smiled. "Well, I think you lost your lift. The Old Man just left." "With your mother. I don't understand." Exchanging amused looks with Douglas, Greta shook her head. "So it's true. He really doesn't like talking about his past." ***** Methos opened the door to his apartment. "Mi casa es su casa." Hesitantly, Rose went in. Shutting the door behind him, Methos went to his liquor cabinet. "Scotch?" "You know me," she replied, sitting down on the couch. She stretched out. "So what are we going to do? Get really drunk, remembering the times we had with Micky?" "Is that what you want to do?" Methos asked, handing Rose a glass. Shaking her head, Rose drank the dark liquid down. "Not really." "We could settle for just getting drunk." Methos stretched out, golden eyes focused on Rose. "So why did I need to spirit you away so quickly? You were playing hostess to about thirty mourners." "Most of those people don't realize it's my house. Micky's daughter will be quite surprised when she tries to move in, and finds the lease in my name." Methos smiled. "How many kids did Micky have? I forget." "Two. Genevieve and Adam." Rose shook her head. "I didn't think a child I raised could spawn such ungrateful little brats." "Ohhh... Not to happy, Grandma?" "I'm not a grandma, Methos. I don't even know how much of a mother I am." Setting down his glass, Methos crossed his arms over his chest. He narrowed his gaze. "That's bullshit. You are the best mother I have ever met. You have cared for so many children...." Drinking deeply from her glass, Rose drained the contents. "I took care of them. Being a mother requires loving your children." "And you're telling me you didn't love them?" "Certain ones. Some of them I adopted because I was lonely." She took the bottle of Scotch from Methos' hands. Filling her glass to the brim, she drank it down. "Like cats. I adopt children like a crazy old woman adopts cats." "Darling....." "Don't." Rose said coldly. "Don't call me Darling like I'm your lover, Old Man. Don't try to tell me that I loved them. Do you remember Greta? You've met her a few times. She's going to turn twenty a few months from now. She's never called me mom. I've always been 'Robbie'. She's wild. Went against my wishes, and is studying to be a Watcher...." "You didn't have a problem with Micky being a Watcher." "That was before Horton," Rose said, rummaging around her purse. "Before the tribunal tried to kill Joseph Dawson. Oh yeah, I know everything about the Watchers. Enough of my kids have been connected to the Watchers that I'm kept informed of their activities." "And kept below their radar." Methos commented. "Rosa, what has made you so cold? You used to have such passion." "Too much loss. I've been.... Very alone." Rose finally found her cigarettes, putting one between her lips. "This is the first time I've seen Greta in two years. My son Douglas moved to California. He's here for the funeral. He visits at holidays. They're all I have." Methos pulled the cigarette from her lips. "I thought you quit." "Yes, because lung cancer is such a worry when you're immortal," Rose said bitterly. "I started again." "When's the last time you had a relationship?" "A relationship." Rose ran her tongue over her teeth, trying to find the answer. Methos sighed, extinguishing the white cylinder he had taken from Rose. "I take it that romance has not been high on your list." "I went out with an accountant back in.... 1986. I think his name was Eric or Errol. Something like that." "And when was the last time you went out with a friend?" Rose sighed. "That depends. When was the last time we went drinking?" "That's sad, Darling." "Why don't you have some respect, Old Man?" Rose spat. "I just lost my son!" "He was my son too, Rosalyn!" Methos shouted. "And I'm just honouring his last wish of me." "Last wish?" Rose repeated. "I don't understand." ***** ***1990, Watcher Headquarters, Paris, France Adam Pierson buried his head in his book, pretending to look up information on Methos. He had no real reason to be at the library today. He had no reason to be at the library ever. He was Methos. It was rather silly to research yourself. He had been using the guise of the young Watcher a little over year now. He had been accepted easily. He seemed to know so much about immortals. Being one helped. Today, the Watcher library was going to be visited by Michael Marlowe. Marlowe had been with the Watchers for forty-six years. He had watched some of the more well-known immortals. He had also donated a large sum of money to the Watchers after his retirement. Methos hadn't seen Micky in several decades. He had been in and out of his life. He had kept tabs on him, making sure he was okay. What else would a father do? He smiled wryly, thinking of himself as Micky's father. As they looked now, Micky could be his grandfather. The doors to the library opened. A very distinguished man entered, supported by a cane. He moved slowly, led by two young, eager-to-please Watchers, one male, one female. "This library was restored using the money you donated to us, Mister Marlowe." One of the Watchers said. "You were quite generous." "I dedicated most of my life to the Watchers, dear boy," Micky replied. "It was the least I could do." Methos looked up from his book. His hazel eyes locked with Micky's blue ones. The elderly man smiled. "This is Adam Pierson," the female Watcher said. "He is currently working on the Methos Chronicles." "Well, I've met this young man before." Methos grew panicked. Micky wouldn't turn him in-- would he? "We had some fine times when he entered the Academy. Smart lad. Would you mind if my friend finishes my tour?" The two Watchers looked at each other, rather hurt to have their job snatched from them. "You two have done a marvelous job," Micky said, laying on the charm. "But I would like to catch up with my friend." "Of course, Mister Marlowe." The male Watcher said. The two Watchers made themself scarce. Micky pulled out a chair, groaning as he eased himself in. "I don't think anyone else is in here." "We were told to stay out of here for your visit. I told the Watchers I had a lead on Methos." "It's been a long time." Methos leaned back in his chair. "How have you been doing, Micky? I hear you're not well." He tapped his heart. "The ticker isn't working like it used to." He shook his head. "I still can't believe it. You don't look a day older." "Well, you know how it works." "I've missed you. So has...." Methos nodded. "I've missed you too. Both of you. I'm sorry I haven't been around as much." He paused. "How is...." "Lonely. Took in a new one a few years ago. Greta. Beautiful little girl." "That makes two, right?" "Yes. Douglas is going to college now. He wants to be a lawyer." "You know, Micky.... I've settled now. I should come to see you." "You've never settled for long. I'm used to you coming in and out of my life. I've dealt with it for 65 years." He smiled. "You're researching Methos. Are you--" "Don't go spreading it around." "Astonishing." Laughing, Micky leaned on the table. "I did my thesis on Methos." "I know. I was very proud of that, Micky." Methos put his hand on Micky's shoulder. "I've been proud of all your work." "Why did you never tell me?" "You're one of the only people who knows I'm immortal, Micky. Being HIM just adds so many questions." "Did Mom know?" "There's not much I kept from your mother." Micky grew somber. "I'm going to die soon." Methos felt the tears sting his eyes. "You could live another fifty years, and it would still be too soon for me." "Mom.... I don't know how she's going to handle it. She's changed. She's lonely. She's kept herself so sequestered. I'm the only person she'll let close. Even Greta and Douglas can't seem to get close." "Your mother has always been a strange woman." "How come you keep calling her that? 'Your Mother'." "I haven't seen your mo-- Rose-- in a long time, Micky." Methos took in a deep breath. "She misses you. She needs you." Micky's eyes welled with tears. "There's been a spark missing from her ever since you left. I need you to promise to get it back." "I promise." **** TO BE CONTINUED....