When Did Forever Die? by: Denise Underwood c. 2001 Part Eight The only sound in the room was the swift intake of his breath as Methos grappled with his fear. If he couldn’t trust her with his darkest thoughts, then what was the point? She’d always accepted everything about him without reserve. Why was he demurring now? Looking at her, he finally said it. “I was thinking that you couldn’t possibly need me like I need you. And that this last year, when I’ve never felt more alone, you were going on with your life without me.” Triona shook her head in denial. “That’s not true! I have missed you. I *need* you. That’s never changed, never!” “I tried to tell myself that,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “In the beginning. But you have Lucien, Stephanie, and the baby on the way… and I thought you had Picard. How could you possibly miss me or need me in your life?” Triona’s expression was a study in pain, the full impact of what Methos was telling her shaking her to the very core. Wrapping her arms around him, she melted against him, crying softly. “I’m so sorry. All this time, I’ve been so angry, so hurt, assuming you were probably relieved to be done with me. How could I not realize what this was doing to you?” “Because you’ve always believed that leaving was what I do best, remember?” It was true, he knew that, but even knowing it was true, he couldn’t keep a taste of bitterness out of his voice. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d just walked away, leaving her alone and hurt. Why wouldn’t she just fall back on old feelings and old betrayals? And how much he wished that she wouldn’t believe the worst that she would believe in him. “Oh god…” she whispered. Methos slid to the floor next to her, his arms coming around to envelop her. "Do you remember when I took you to MacLeod, after your first death?" he asked softly, settling her against his chest. "How could I forget? I was terrified of being left alone, of what my future held." She pressed closer to the warmth of his body. "I know you were, and it tore me apart. I was so afraid for you. I knew how few young Immortals made it through their first decades, and you had so many extra vulnerabilities. I didn't know how I was going to keep you safe." "But I did survive." "Yes, you did," he agreed, ruffling her hair affectionately. "But that fear I felt for you after you became Immortal, was -- is -- the fear I felt when you told me about your decision to have a child. I can't keep you safe from the pain," his voice tightened with emotion, "from the grief... No one should have to outlive their own child, their own blood. But you will." "We don't know what the future will hold," she whispered, fighting to hold back the tears that burned against her eyelids. "There's a reason that we can't have children, Triona." Shaking her head, she replied, "Maybe you're right, Methos, I don't know. But I do know that if we didn't love because we feared loss, you would have never loved me. No Immortal would ever love!" He pulled her around, kissing her fiercely. "I could never not love you," he said, placing his hands on either side of her head. "Even at our darkest, I have always loved you." "I know," she said softly. "I wish... I wish I could ask you to come home. But I won't. Knowing how you feel about this, I won’t." This time, the tears won, and Triona turned away. Kissing her softly, and with a murmured, “Be right back." Methos got to his feet, swiftly crossing the room to open a drawer in a desk that was constructed of some black polymer. He made a soft, satisfied noise as he pulled a datapad from the drawer. Triona, wrapping the blanket around her and knotting it like a sarong, met him halfway. Silently, Methos handed his wife the pad. She glanced up at him curiously before turning her attention to the display. Quickly, she scanned through the pictures that flashed across its smooth, compact surface. Bewildered, she sank into the sofa. "It's beautiful," Triona said of the house that had been displayed. "But what...?" Sitting next to her, Methos took her hand in his. "After the alien probe, things began to deteriorate between us, and I didn't know how to stop it. I remembered how happy we'd been when we'd taken time to be alone together those years in Montana, before the war. I was desperate to recapture that feeling between us." Closing his eyes, Methos hung his head. Triona leaned against his shoulder. "Oh, my love...." Both of them remembered well the reasons that they had decided to spend time alone together, as husband and wife, all those years ago. That time, it had been Methos' betrayal that had led them to near destruction. But somehow, they'd put the pieces back together. Now, he hoped they could do it again. "I couldn't recreate the past, but the thought came to me that maybe I could make a new past, a new beginning. So I decided to build a house," he said simply. "Build? You *built* this house?" Triona asked, astonishment in her voice, waving the data pad she still held. "It isn't the first time," he protested good-naturedly. Serious once more, he continued with his explanation. "After you got back to Imladris, after what happened on the Enterprise with the probe, I went to the tip of the Southern Continent, to the Popcorn Archipelago." "You disappeared for weeks," she commented, remembering. He'd needed the time away. Triona's experience on the Enterprise hadn't been the beginning of their problems, but the culmination. There had been cracks for months, but both of them had tried to pretend that nothing had changed. The groundwork had been laid on their first meeting with the Enterprise -- and Picard. -=- Denise = ithildin@ondragonswing.com = http://ondragonswing.com -=- Vampires, Floth demons.... Do you know what is -=- really, really evil? Tequila. ~ Cordelia ~ 'Angel' -=- Dragon's Hoard Fic Archive http://www.ondragonswing.com/vortex -=- Star Trek:The First Generation http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ST_FirstGen