Immortal History Lessons 9
Bon Voyage
@copyright 2009 Heather Amaral & Jean Hontz
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It was not, Sydney knew, going to be a day without tears. Sometimes she managed to get through an entire week without one tear. Most of the time though, they came all too often.
She woke, showered put on jeans and a shirt. She called her dad. She caught a taxi on the square and the ride to the facility wasn't long enough for her. She was struggling to keep her emotions in some sort of order.
Her dad met her at the front door. "Hey," she said to him as she hugged him. "I've got something to discuss with you and mom."
"So what's up Sydney?"
She cleared her throat. "Well, I'm seeing someone, Dad."
Methos waited until he watched them both go in the building before he strolled in and up to the reception counter. He told himself it wasn't snooping. Methos had meant to spend the day with Sydney when he saw her leave the apartment via taxi, he was interested so he'd followed. The destination was a surprise and he should have left, a part of him knew it. But curiosity often killed the immortal.
He flashed a charming smile at the receptionist. "Good morning, I was wondering if you could help me?"
"Certainly sir. What can I do for you?" she replied, flashing her own hopeful smile back.
"I was supposed to meet my girlfriend here, a Miss Sydney Watson. Can you tell me what room I can find her in?" He asked.
"Oh, well, I'm not sure. Are you on the visitor's log? What's your name?"
"Ah, no." He said, folding his arms on the desk. "I seemed to have missed her going in. She said that I could get logged in when we got here, so I don't think she gave my name in advance. I can wait out here but can you tell me how they're doing today, the patient I mean? I just want to know what to expect when she comes out that door." He said, casting a worried look down the hall that was sincere as much as it was for show.
"Yes, she's quite often upset when she leaves. It's hard for both her and her father, you see. Mrs Watson has been like this for so many years, but you know how it is. Everyone hopes even when there is little reason."
The receptionist immediately had all his attention. "I'm sorry, this is the first time I've been here and Sydney was never very clear about it before. What is Mrs. Watson here for?"
The receptionist looked around a bit nervously but then said, "Well, I expect she wouldn't talk about it. Such a tragedy really. It was a brain injury. And Mrs Watson has been, well, non-responsive ever since. You never know, though, if they can hear you. Mr Watson comes and reads to her three or four times a week. And Miss Watson comes as often as she can get away too. So sad. The little girl always coming with her father, so solemn. Well, I wasn't here then, but the head nurse told me."
His throat felt dry even as he thanked the world for gossiping nurses, he wouldn't of wanted to ask Sydney to explain this for the world. And he suddenly felt like the intruder he was.
"Well...thank you." He said, not knowing if that was the proper response. "I'll just wait for Sydney at home then, I don't want to disturb them. Actually, I think it's best you don't tell her I was here. That way she doesn't have to worry about missing me on top of everything else." He explained.
"Well, if you think that's best. But if she asks about you I'll let her know you were here and worried about her." As he started to walk away she added, "You know she smiled today. Miss Watson I mean."
"Doesn't she usually when she sees her father?" He asked curiously.
"Well, he blames her I think. Or perhaps she blames herself. But no, neither of them usually smiles. So I noticed it particularly."
"I'm glad then. I can't imagine her not smiling." He said more to himself then the woman watching him as he turned and walked out.
If she'd smiled while visiting her mother, Sydney wasn't smiling when she walked out of the facility alone. She stood at the street waiting for a taxi, looking bereft and very much alone. Her father was still inside. She'd stayed as long as she could manage it then had to leave. It never changed.
"Sydney." Methos said gently as he pulled away from the side of the building where he'd been waiting for her.
Her reaction was delayed, as if at first she hadn't heard him. Then, slowly she turned around. He watched the emotions cross her face. Gladness at seeing him, then surprise and then she went pale.
"Meth.. Adam. How, I mean, what.." she asked.
"I followed you. It was stupid and wrong, I know. But...I did, and I'm sorry." Methos rambled, looking up at her soft eyes.
"Oh.. I .. " A tear leaked out of one eye and rolled down her cheek. She looked away to hide it.
"No," Methos said gently as he closed the distance and turned her back to look at him. "Don't do that. Please don't hide from me."
Her eyes were swimming with tears now and she squeezed them shut for a second. "I'm not.. I just.. Grief is private."
"Normally you'd be right. But not if it's eating away at you like this, and for so long." He said, rubbing a hand along her back in a soothing manner.
A taxi pulled up then and she said, "Come home with me. Please."
Methos nodded before helping her into the taxi, telling the driver where to take them.
The moment they were moving she snuggled up in his arms. He could feel hot tears on his shirt, but she never sobbed. "I'm sorry. It's silly. It's just... My father hopes so much. It breaks my heart to see him."
"How long?" He asked gently.
"Sixteen years now," she replied after a time. "Sometimes you almost think she's listening. So he comes to read to her and talk things over with her. I came to tell her about our trip."
His arms tightened around her, trying to give comfort. "If I'd known..."
"If you'd known then what?" she asked.
"If you go to see her whenever you can, how are you going to feel when I take you away from her for two months?" He asked.
"It's fine, Methos. Honestly. Should I stay in the city my whole life and not leave her? Even if my father does, I'm not ready to give up all the other things that make life wonderful."
Methos smiled at her, an emotion flickering behind his eyes as he brushed the fresher tears from her cheek.
"Sometimes you don't have to travel half way round the world to find wonderful things." He said before turning to look out the window, silently wondering if she'd understand what he meant someday.
"That can be true, I'm sure. But I'm looking forward to seeing all the places I've read about. And studied. And with someone who won't find my interest in such things annoying. At least I hope you won't."
"You're kidding, right?" He asked with mocking wide eyes. "I'm going to have a field day just trying to hold my tongue when we go to half the places I've planned to take you. It's going to be like seeing it all over again for the first time with you there."
She managed a laugh. "I went to Paris with a colleague and she thought we'd gone to have love affairs. She was annoyed with me the entire time," she confessed. "So I went to England one year alone. I got to see what I wished to see, but .. well, it is far nicer to have someone to share it with."
"Yes it is." He said.
"Hey folks, we're here." The driver said abruptly as they came to their destination.
Methos gave the man an annoyed look as he paid and helped Sydney out.
"So, can you stay?" Sydney asked. "Or do you have plans?"
"I'll stay." He said.
"I'm fine, really," she was saying as she put her key in the door and let them into the building and then into her apartment.
"And I'm staying because you're a terrible liar." He chided as he closed the door behind them.
"Methos, really. It isn't like I haven't done this endless times before. It's just ... depressing. I get over it."
"Sydney, there's a big difference between getting over it and locking it away inside to fester." He said. "She's your mother, you can't stop loving and worrying about her if you tried, but you can't let it kill you either." He pulled her in, holding her hands behind her back so he could hold her closer. "Let me come with you next time, I'd like to meet the beautiful woman I have to thank for you."
She was quiet for awhile then said, uncertainly, "If you're sure you want to do that. You don't need to, really."
"I want to." He said firmly.
She nodded against his chest. "Okay."
He eyed her carefully. "But if you don't want me to go I'll understand."
She looked up at him, tears gone but dried streaks still showing on her cheeks. "Don't you dare think I'm going to regret going to Europe with you."
Methos smiled at her, releasing one of her hands so he could place a finger against her lips. "I think you've proven that to me already."
"Okay, then. I need a shower, then I'll feel better."
"Want some company?" He asked cheekily.
She laughed. "I thought you'd never ask."
Methos released her long enough to pull the bulky sweater over his head and discard it with a comical waggle of eyebrows before he lead her in the direction of the bathroom.
"You'll smell so good after using my soap," she said with a giggle. "I'm not sure what Duncan will think though. I should lay in a supply of something more manly."
Methos's brow furrowed. "If MacLeod is smelling me, I think we have more to worry about then what kind of soap I'm using."
She grinned at that. "Here, let me undress you." She slapped his hand away from herself. "You first." She took her time unwrapping him, and touching skin as she did so. And she didn't hide the fact she liked to look at him.
Methos watched her, waiting till she'd stripped him naked and had her fill of looking before he pulled her in for a kiss. "Your turn." He teased as he nipped her bottom lip.
"Have your evil way with me, sir. Only just be kind."
"Kind?" He asked, slipping a hand under her shirt to undo the bra so he pulled both garments over her head in one go, baring her beautiful breasts to his eyes. "When have I been kind?"
"True," she replied.
His fingers opened her jeans and pushed them down her hips. "Step out." He said.
She did so, her hands restless as if she was struggling not to cover herself under his gaze.
Methos stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing warm skin against skin. He pressed his cheek against hers and breathed in deeply, he waited a moment and let it out. Rubbing her lower back softly he took another deep breath so in sympathetic reaction to his body against hers, Sydney would do the same.
She did breathe with him and began to relax under his touch. She ran a hand up his chest, feeling the muscles there and the beating of his heart and then her fingers touched the pulse point in his neck, light as a feather as she felt him alive and warm and responsive. His breath became sharper in her ear.
His hands ghosted down her body, resting on her hips but not removing her panties.
"I'm going to turn on the taps." He said in a low voice that carried clearly between them. "Don't finish getting undressed without me." He said before moving away from the warmth of her body to set the shower at a comfortable temperature.
"Hmmm. Then what do I get to do," she complained softly, following him over to be nearer the shower.
Methos glanced at her over his shoulder. "Other then the undressing bit, I don't have any objections to what you do."
"Ah," she said, planting a kiss on his butt, as a hand snaked around to his front.
"And...what do you think you're doing?" Methos asked.
"You said I was free to do as I like. I like," she replied, finding something very interesting up front.
Methos groaned and forced himself to stay very still. "I don't...think you're playing fair, madam."
"No?" she asked, not stopping. "But what I'm doing seems to be having a positive effect."
"I'm not arguing that." Methos said as his eyes closed. "The unfair part is not being in a position where I can repay your efforts."
"Ah, well, nothing's stopping you from turning around," she teased.
Methos laughed, a little throaty. "I will if you'd stand up."
"Coward," she teased as she got to her feet. "Aren't you done yet playing with the faucet. It's a guy thing isn't it."
"I was a bit distracted." Methos said in his own defense as he turned around and pulled her flush against his body. "But, I'm not now."
"Good because the package is only partly unwrapped." She shivered when his hands got near her panties.
"I haven't forgotten." Methos whispered into her hair as his hand slipped beneath the strip of fabric and stroked her slowly.
Her breathing changed and her eyes closed as she leaned toward him, her own hands finding him and stroking slowly.
Methos backed away from her hand with a hiss, looping a finger in panties this time to pull her with him into the shower. The warm water splashing down over both of them.
The wet panties slid off, and she reached up to push her hair back off her face, looking up at him with a puzzled frown. "What?"
"If you keep doing that, I can't do this." Methos said as he kissed his way down her throat and along her breasts, capturing one nipple between his lips.
She groaned as he did so, her hands tracking down his chest. and around his hips. "I can't just stand here and not touch," she whispered.
His fingers found her neglected nipple and paid it equal attention as he raised his head to look at her, taking her hand, he moved it from his hip and down, making her cup his ass. He held her gaze intently the whole time as he backed her into the shower wall.
One hand traced his buttocks as the other reached out to his face, and then up into his hair, threading her fingers through it, her eyes not leaving his. She leaned into the shower wall to steady herself.
Methos moaned, his head moving back with the track of her fingers as his eyes closed, pulling her in. She traced the side of his face with her lips and tongue and bit his earlobe, her breath speaking to him for her, the hand against his butt pulling him into to her yet more tightly.
The mixture of sensory input made his breath hitch, and his hips rocked against hers involuntarily. He laughed, a chocked sound as he forced himself to stop though, making it so she set the pace, so she was the one who told him what to do.
She moved to capture his mouth, her tongue demanding entry. One hand snaked down to stroke his already distended member, encouraging him, pulling him forward so the sensitive tip could feel her soft pubic hair against it. He could feel her heart pounding and sense her need, every bit as strong as his own.
He couldn't help it then, his hands balled into fists against the wall, he opened his mouth to her, letting her in he groaned against her lips. His hands trailed down to her hips, resting there as he broke the kiss long enough to whisper a strained 'please', his eyes dark, not asking for submission or dominance, just asking.
"Make love with me, Methos. Please." Her voice was hoarse and sultry as she clung to him. "Please."
His mouth curled a little at the corners as his pale fingers traced the side of her face. They slid down, past her shoulders, along her breasts and belly and finally traced the inside of her thigh before he brought her leg up to wrap around his waist at the same moment that he lifted her up. He held her there and kissed her as he slid himself in, the water making his entrance harsher then usual.
She gasped as he entered her and he felt her nails biting into his shoulders as she moved with him. "Harder," she said into his ear. He obliged and used her breathing as his guide, harsher now, passion robbing her of words but then she was speaking with her body.
He was panting against her shoulder, his hips thrusting into her with little rhythm besides what her body dictated to him. Keeping her between the heat of his body and the cool tile pressed into her back.
She shuddered as she climaxed, her muscles tightening on him, pulling him in even deeper, her nails biting into his back, her heart pounding her breath hot against the side of his face. She was beyond thought, all need.
"Oh god!" He bit out at the feel of her going, being dragged over the edge with her. He barely had the faculty left to keep them upright as his muscles spasmed, but he managed, holding her tight against him, his face buried in her neck.
She clung to him tightly until his spasms eased and then stopped. He could hear, eventually, a low satisfied chuckle coming from her. She turned his face around and kissed his lips tenderly. Then quite ruined it saying, "I think we're running out of hot water."
He smirked. "Well that explains the chill."
"Come on, let's go to bed," she said, turning off the water and tossing a towel at him.
Methos caught it deftly and followed, spending most of the time drying his hair while the rest of his body was left to more natural means of drying off. "I have a question." He said, a muffled version of his voice coming from underneath the towel.
She grabbed a part of the towel and pulled him down onto the bed on top of her. When he'd figured out which way was up she replied, "Which question is that?"
"Tonight wasn't the first time you've had a man at you mercy before, is it? Go on, tell me. How many young, helpless boys have you controlled before me?" He asked charmingly, the palm of his hand ghosting over her breast.
"Young helpless boys like you? Oh, a few. But my wiles are out of practice. I need to work on them. Hone my skills at seduction. The art is lost without constant practice."
Methos sighed. "Well I'm all for practice."
She laughed. "Sounds like a plan."
Methos brushed a strand of wet hair from her face, searching her eyes. "Will you tell me truthfully if it still hurts?" He asked. "I don't want you bottling this pain when you don't have to."
She met his eyes and nodded. "I'm fine though. So don't worry about me."
He smiled weakly. "Unfortunately it doesn't work that way."
"How does it work for you?" she asked, her voice making clear she really wanted to understand.
"I'll always worry." He said. "If you come home tired or 'fine', or when you tell me what I am or how I act doesn't bother you. Till the day I can actually look inside you and make sure you're telling the truth, I'm always going to worry."
"Methos, I'm not going to tell you something that isn't true. What you are doesn't bother me. How you act, well, you've had a very long life to grow into that, and I'm not the sort of woman who falls for a guy then expects him to change for her. Then you wouldn't be the guy who intrigued me and moved me in the first place.
"As for you looking inside of me to be sure I'm telling you the truth, if there was a way to do that, I'd let you."
"You..." But he stopped. Instead of speaking he laid his head against her breast, feeling each time she breathed. Listening to the beat of her heart, trying not to count the beats.
She combed his hair with her fingers, content and relaxed.
His eyes closed. "It takes me five centuries, I want to tell you so much and yet you end up being the one girl who leaves me ridiculously speechless sometimes. I really hate irony." He mumbled.
"Hush," she whispered. "It's because I don't really need to hear it."