| AN ORDINARY LIFE Part Four-- Pierson, Pity For One (AKA Drowning My Sorrows) ~~~~~ THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING “Adam, why don’t you come with us?” Stevie asked as she packed her and Maggie’s bags for their flight to Stevie’s hometown. “You’re not sick of my company, yet?” he joked. Stevie playfully shoved him off the sofa arm and onto the floor. “Hey!” he retorted indignantly, his pride and bum a little bruised. “Well, now that you mention it, I guess, you are a little tiresome,” she countered. Pouting unashamedly, Methos garnered a kiss out of his tormentor. Both breathed a sigh of relief at the moments of levity. For days, each had been on the verge of declaring their feelings for the other, but neither gathered the courage. They had only known each other for a few weeks. It was too soon to feel that emotion, they had reasoned to themselves. Wasn’t it? “That’s the last of it,” Methos announced as he came through the door. “You’re only going to be gone for four days, yet you have enough luggage for a month,” he noted with just a hint of sarcasm, “I’m starting to feel like a pack mule!” Stevie cast a long, appraising gaze over Methos. “And a scrawny one at that.” Methos swept her up in his arms, “Scrawny, eh?” Stevie threw her head back with laughter, “Ok, ok, maybe lean, lanky, lithe, or how about luscious?” she soothed, as her mouth overtook his in a heated kiss. Returning her ardor, he lost himself in the feeling of warmth that crept over his body. Damn! Why did their flight have to leave so early? “Mommy, is Adam gonna feed the horses while we’re gone? And what about Scout?” Maggie bounded down the stairs. Reluctantly Methos set Stevie on her feet, his hands slow to release her. “Yes, Mags, Adam is going to feed the animals.” “Don’t forget Scout likes his tuna heated up, Adam,” Maggie confided. Scout, the cat, had taken an instant liking to Methos, pouncing in his lap and demanding his full attention. “Yes, I know how the brat likes his tuna,” he returned. “Scout isn’t a brat, he’s just finicky,” Stevie came to the feline’s rescue, “unlike someone else I know,” Methos glanced at his watch. “Don’t you have a plane to catch?” ~~~~~ The airport terminal was chaotic to say the least. Harried travelers scurried to and fro. Wailing children trailed behind their stressed parents. Within moments, the trio found the gate they were searching for. “Flight 2159 departing for St. Louis, Missouri, will begin boarding in ten minutes. Passengers with small children may start boarding now,” a monotone voice informed those waiting in the coral of people. “Well, I guess that’s our cue,” Stevie stated. Methos felt a tug on his coat. Maggie waited for him to bend down. Her arms went around him tightly. “I’m gonna miss you, Adam. Are you gonna miss us?” “More than you know, Stinkerbell.” Kissing the top of her curly head, he rose and met her mother’s eyes, “More than you know.” A tear threatened then rolled down Stevie’s cheek as Methos closed the short distance, crushing her to him. The intercom’s insistent voice caused them to unwilling break apart. “Promise me you won’t spend Thanksgiving by yourself, Adam.” He smiled and assured her he would not. The two travelers made their way down the boarding ramp. Before they were out of sight, Stevie turned and met Methos’ gaze. Smiling bravely, she threw him a kiss. His eyes crinkled as he grinned back at her and waved. Maggie clamored excitedly into her seat. This was her first plane ride and her face showed her excitement. The flight attendant gave the routine briefing and informed everyone to buckle their seat belts. The huge engines fired up; the noise vibrating the plane. Maggie reached for her mother’s hand, a little nervous and scared. “I miss Adam already.” Stevie squeezed her hand, “Me, too, sweetie.” ~~~~~ Methos stood in the crowded airport amidst a teeming throng of humanity wandering why he felt so alone. After all, he had known her only three months, yet his heart had rose to his throat and promptly sank to his stomach. Old man, you’ve gone and fell in love. Quietly he made his way back to the Rover and sat behind the wheel. The last remnants of her perfume lingered in the air. Inhaling deeply, a flood of sadness swept over him. Loneliness had been a constant companion for decades, centuries, but it never got any easier. Feeling sorry for himself and not ready to face the solitude of his apartment, he drove in the direction of his second home. ~~~~~ Early afternoon provided Joe the opportunity to restock and catch up on the books. He had to admit he enjoyed the calm before the storm. The door swung open, the bright sunlight obscured the identity of the customer. “I’m sorry, sir, we’re closed,” he apologized, but the customer paid no heed to his words. As the door shut, Joe was able to distinguish the solitary figure approaching the bar. “Well, look who it is,” Joe remarked, half joking and half serious. In recent weeks, Joe had seen little of the old man. Mac ran into him on campus, but he too had hardly seen the ancient immortal. Methos didn’t bother with a greeting. “Beer and tequila.” Joe frowned. The beer wasn’t a problem, but the tequila might be. Rarely did the immortal drink anything harder than the much-loved beer. Sitting a draft down in front of Methos, he poured a shot of the stronger liquid. The beer disappeared in two long pulls and the shot chased a warm path followed suit. Before Joe could return the bottle to its resting place, Methos took possession, “Keep the beer coming, Joe.” Taking over a table in a dimly lit corner, he sprawled in the chair and proceeded to get very drunk. Joe knew better than to pry or refuse Methos alcohol. If he wouldn’t serve him, he would go somewhere else, where Joe couldn’t keep an eye on him. For the next couple of hours the silence was oppressive. Joe did his best to ignore the mute figure in the corner. He was more than aquatinted with many moods of Methos— jovial, angry, sarcastic, contemplative, but silent was the hardest to deal with. Hell, he’d rather be on the receiving end of the immortals caustic humor than witness this. As per Methos request he kept the beer coming and supplied him with his third bottle of tequila. Methos knew Joe was uncomfortable with his mood, but he didn’t want to talk. He muttered when Joe dropped off his fifth pitcher of beer. Glancing at his watch, he knew Stevie and Maggie were in St. Louis by now. Images of them flitted through his alcohol-soaked brain. Closing his eyes, he savored the visions. As the afternoon stretched into evening, the regulars filtered into the bar. Since it was the night before Thanksgiving, Joe had expected the crowd to be light. Around 7:30, the door swung open, revealing to Joe a welcome sight. In swept Amanda, Duncan and Richie in tow. Joe’s face lit up at the faces of his friends. “Rich, Amanda, when did you two get into town?” Amanda pressed a kiss to the Watcher’s cheek. “Duncan just picked us up and the first person I wanted to see was you.” Joe secretly reveled in Amanda’s presence. Ah, if I was just a little bit older. “I hate to break up your little lovefest, but I see the prodigal son has returned,” Mac commented, gesturing to the man in the corner. Amanda turned and looked, “What’s wrong with him, Joe? He looks like someone just ran over his dog.” Joe shrugged his shoulders, “I have no idea. My best guess is he’s having a pity party for one. Strolled in here this afternoon, placed his order and there he sits. Won’t talk, just sits there and drinks.” Richie observed, “He looks way beyond toasted.” Joe wiped at the counter, “You aren’t kidding, Rich. I lost count after six pitchers of beer(,) and he’s on his third bottle of tequila.” Mac let out a long whistle, “He means business.” Richie observed, “Death by alcohol poisoning. Not my favorite way to go.” Taking the bottle from Joe the group of immortals made their way to join their wasted friend. Methos sat limply in his chair, beer mug in his hand. “Longtime no see, darling,” Amanda crooned as she squeezed his hand, garnering little response from him. Mac sat the bottle down, “Ok, Methos, what’s the deal?” Methos mumbled something in a dead, dead language. “English, old man,” the Scot chastised. Another barrage of words came, again in a language the other three didn’t comprehend. Methos rose unsteadily to his feet and staggered off to the restroom. Joe walked over to the table. “At least he talked,” he said hopefully. “A lot of good that did. We couldn’t understand a word he said,” lamented Richie. The four of them debated the cause for Methos morose mood, no one coming up a good reason. “Hell, knowing the old man, he probably doesn’t have a reason,” Richie joked, trying to ease the tension. “Duncan, maybe you ought to go check on him. He’s been gone too long,” Amanda pointed out. “Now, I’m his babysitter,” Mac mumbled under his breath as he went in search of his charge. Mac pushed open the restroom door, “Did you fall in, old man?” The questioned bounced off the empty restroom walls. “Methos?” No answer. Mac threw up his hands and he rejoined the group. “He’s not in there.” “He’s still in the area. I can feel him,” Amanda reasoned, “I’ll check the ladies room just in case.” Richie laughed. “I’ll go scout the alley.” The two went off in search of the missing immortal. “Joe, I’ll go....” Mac began. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Mac,” Joe informed as he opened the door to his office. The sound of very loud snoring greeted the men. Somehow Methos had managed to stumble in and pass out face down on Joe’s office sofa. “Whadda ya know? It’s Sleeping Beauty.” Amanda and Richie peered into the office, “Well, it looks like you found him.” Mac grinned, “Lucky me. We’re going to have to take him back to my place, so he can sleep this off. Here’s the plan: Amanda, go warm up the T-Bird and his Rover. Rich, you get his coat and sword, then you can help me lug him out to the car.” When their stuff was stowed in the cars, they began the delicate task of loading up the loaded immortal. A tangle of arms and legs, it was a job easier said than done. “Damn it, Methos, you could help us a little,” Mac exclaimed as he hooked one long arm around his neck, indicating for Richie to do the same. “Shit! He’s a lot heavier than he looks,” Richie groused. Methos roused a little, “Beer,” his only intelligible word. Resisting the urge to throttle their friend, Mac and Richie half walked, half dragged him to the waiting Rover. “Whew! He smells like a liquor store,” Richie observed trying to hold his breath. “Let’s just get him to the car.” Dumping their burden gently in the backseat, Richie and Mac got into the Rover. Duncan rolled the window down and called out to Amanda, “We’ll meet you back at the loft.” Amanda grinned; she loved to drive Mac’s car. “See ya,” she said as she gunned the car forward. The lift came to a halt, allowing the group to exit. “Where should we put him?” the youngest immortal groaned. “The couch,” came Duncan’s strained reply. Soon Methos was sprawled across the sofa. The two men sank into the two easy chairs. Amanda knelt and removed his heavy hiking boots. She noted how young Methos looked when he was asleep. Although she dearly loved the Highlander, something about Methos had always touched her. He had seen so much, but yet he still felt there was much left to see and experience. “And he’s cuter than hell,” her eyebrow lifted at the thought. Grabbing a blanket, she covered his long, lanky frame, “Sweet dreams.” In the early morning hours, Amanda was roused from a deep sleep by the tossing and turning of the couch’s occupant. Careful not to wake the slumbering man beside her, she slipped over to the couch. As she neared, it was easy to see the oldest immortal was not resting easy. “Methos,” she whispered, kneeling down beside the sofa. Gently, she stroked his shoulder. Immediately her touch calmed him and he murmured softly, “Stevie.” A knowing smile lit Amanda’s face. Ah, a woman. Since Alexa’s death he had closed off his heart, which deeply saddened her. He was a man so full passion and life, it was a shame for him to be alone. Leaning over she pulled the covers back over him and kissed his forehead. A content smile played across his lips as he burrowed deeper into the couch and covers. The sunlight streamed unmercifully into the eyelids of a very hung over immortal. His brain struggled to signal his uncooperative arms to shield his eyes to no avail. One by one, his eyes came open revealing four concerned friends were watching him. Groaning, he gingerly sat up, his head spinning wildly. “Good morning,” Duncan offered cheerfully. Methos flinched at the words of greeting, “You don’t have to shout, MacLeod.” The others smiled at his discomfort. Methos rested his elbows on his knees, cradling his pounding head in his hands. “Ready for breakfast?” Richie quipped. “Or should I say lunch?” The mere thought of food sent his stomach into waves of protest. Rising jerkily to his feet, he swiftly made his way to the bathroom, where he knelt before porcelain goddess and unceremoniously heaved up his guts. That was an interesting shade of green,” a smirking Joe noted. “Maybe I ought to paint the bar that color.” Stepping into the shower, the water cascaded over his body rinsing the remains of last night’s binge. The pulsating liquid eased the soreness out of tired muscles. He stood under the steaming massage until the water grew cold. Much better. He sighed in contentment. Toweling the moisture from his limbs, he reached for his discarded clothes. “Ugh!” he protested as the smell of a brewery assaulted his nose. How much had he drunk last night? Good thing he left spare clothes here at MacLeod’s for such occasions. Clouds of steam preceded him as he exited the bathroom. Rubbing a towel over his hair, he looked and felt better than when he went in. Richie, Joe, and Duncan burst into fits of laughter. Amanda let out a long wolf whistle. Methos scowled in confusion at their laughter. “Mind telling me what’s so funny?” “Nice boxers, sweetie,” complimented Amanda. Glancing down he realized he was wearing the black silk boxers that Stevie had given him as a joke, the ones with the red lip prints all over them. Ignoring them he stalked over to the dresser and tugged open a drawer. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a shirt, he hurriedly dressed. Taking a seat on the couch, he pulled on his socks and boots. Wisely, Duncan and Joe made themselves scarce, returning to the kitchen to start Thanksgiving dinner. Heavenly smells drifted out into the living room. Richie controlled the remote, switching channels at a furious pace. Amanda perched on a chair, flipping through a magazine. The longer the oldest immortal sat on the sofa the deeper his frown grew. Not wanting a repeat performance of the night before, Amanda piped up, “Come on, Methos. I need someone to give me a lift to pick some things for dinner.” Without saying a word, he grabbed his coat and keys and headed for the door. Amanda quickened her step, trying to keep up with his long strides. Unlocking the doors, he slid into the driver’s seat. Settling into her seat Amanda closed the door and waited for him to start the truck. The radio provided the only noise as the two began their trip. Observant by nature and profession, Amanda spied a hair scrunchie and a tube of lipstick on the console. Risking Methos temper she decided to broach the subject. Opening the lipstick, she dryly noted, “This really isn’t your best color.” Methos cracked a smile for the first time since they left the loft. “And your hair is a little short for this,” pointing to the hair accessory. “Subtlety has never been your best quality, Amanda.” “Care to talk about it?” she questioned. “Let’s go to my apartment and I’ll tell you,” he relented. ~~~~~ Stevie excused herself from the crowded family room. It was nice to see all the relatives and of course Maggie enjoyed being the center of attention. Stevie walked down the hall to her room. Shutting the door behind her, she sank onto the bed. Her head rested lightly on the pillow, her mind replaying the last several weeks. Had it only been three months since she had literally bumped into Adam? She felt so comfortable and safe in his presence, like she had known him forever. A mental video played in her head. Adam’s smile, the way he likes to sprawl across inanimate objects, the way he played with Maggie, the way his lips caressed her skin. Suddenly missing him overwhelmed her. Picking up the phone from the bedside table, she dialed the now familiar number and waited impatiently for him to pick up the phone. The insistent ringing of the phone urged Methos through the door. Loping into the apartment he scooped up the receiver, almost tripping over a discarded book in his haste. “Hullo, Adam Pierson.” Stevie grinned when she heard his pleasantly accented greeting, “Miss me yet, Adam?” A smile that went all the way to his eyes played across his face, “Maybe just a little bit. How’s the trip?” A chuckle came across the phone lines, “Food, family, and mayhem. The typical family reunion fodder. What’s going on there?” Methos filled her in on his dinner plans with his friends, leaving out his little drunken binge of the night before. “Good. I was afraid you’d skulk around,” she admonished. “Hey, I don’t skulk,” he protested. They spent several more minutes on the phone. “Well, someone is hollering for me. I’d better run,” she replied. “Tell Maggie I said hi,” Methos added, not wanting the conversation to end, “I miss her mum horribly.” A throaty response came, “You do? I miss you too, Adam. See ya Sunday.” “Til then, goodbye,” he told her and placed the receiver in it’s cradle. Amanda had tactfully excused herself when the conversation took a personal turn. She had heard snippiest, but what she had noticed most was the tone of her friend’s voice...tender and playful. Hearing the phone return to its resting place, she turned her attention to the man seated on the sofa. “Stevie?” she inquired. “How did you know?” “Last night you said her name.” Methos ran his fingers through his hair, “Remind me not to drink tequila again.” Seeing he was making light of the situation, she decided to probe further, “Spill it, babe.” Finally ready to share the details, he told Amanda about the woman who had occupied him heart and soul for the last several weeks. “Do you remember what its like to be a part of a family?” he queried. Amanda thought for a moment and nodded. Meeting her gaze, his eyes brimming with sadness, “I have no memories of being a part of a family. Oh, the Horsemen were family in a sick, twisted definition of the word. You, MacLeod, Joe and Richie are like family.” Clearing his throat, he continued, “Stevie and Maggie are quickly becoming my family. With them I can forget about being immortal and this damn Game we have to play. With them I can simply just be.” Amanda sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder, “You deserve to be happy, my friend. Grab onto this chance with both hands.” Methos curled his arm around her in a friendly hug. “Believe me, I intend to. Now we better get back to Mac’s before the Boy Scout sends out a search party.” Reread Part Three Return To Chapter Index Continued In Part Five-- Guess Whose Coming To Joe's? |