Made of Breath and Wind (gen, lyricwheel fic)
Disclaimer: Amanda, Methos, Nick and the gang (though the rest are just mentions) are the property of Rysher/Davis Panzer/ and a bunch of other people I have never met. They make all the money on this, and since I have never met them, it is safe to say that I never shall. *Sigh* In my world everybody's free, and characters can be a real as we wish. I gotta get out of Disneyland. Oh, I don't own Disneyland either, so I suppose that is a disclaimer of the disclaimer.
Thanks to the betas....wait, THIS IS THE LYRIC WHEEL!! THERE ARE NO BETAS!! FOOLED YOU!! Allrightie then, here ya go, Jessi, I hope it's all you dreamed for, thought I bet you thought Richie would be in here....oh well, I guess it matches the *spirit* of the song, even though this did run over a page...whoopies...thanks to Alice, who betaed this actually, after I posted to the wheel...all feedback to deparsons@earthlink.net I LOOOOVE feedback, like I love breathing, or my new, shiny Zippo lighter...mmm...
Made Of Breath and Wind
by Amand-r, the vacuum cleaner queen
------------------------------------------
You shouldn't be here, Amanda told herself. But she was in Paris, and no visit to the City of Lights, the City of Romance would be complete if she didn't unexpectedly drop in on Duncan, like the long lost child she pretended to be. Long lost, she thought. Rebecca's laughing at you somewhere. She dared a glance up at the sky, overcast, gloomy, too much like her mood. What was that called when weather imitated the events about to occur in a play?
And why do you even care? Methos would know. Amanda ducked her smiling face as she passed an old man ensconced on a park bench near the water. She hadn't thought about the "world's oldest Immortal" in months. That was full of the sigil of something disastrous. Would Methos materialize if she conjured hard enough? It wouldn't be the first time the ancient would seem to have appeared by magic.
Duncan's barge was lit, and a few more brisk strides towards the iron hulk revealed his Presence. A few more after that and the man himself came into view, the head a short cropped thatch of darkness blending into the pilothouse. But- the frame was all wrong, even from this distance, and the face was way too pale.
"I'll be damned," she muttered, and quickened her pace. "Speak of the devil!" she laughed.
Methos echoed her chuckle. "Not the first time, Amanda." The immortal shoved his hands in his pockets. "I didn't know you were in town. When'd you get in?"
Amanda walked the gangplank and clasped Methos's shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug and generous kiss on the cheek. "Not long at all, a week, two. Where's Mac?" She watched Methos's eyes darken.
"A question, the answer to which, only the one sought knows for sure," he answered, scanning the background behind her. "Where's your watcher?"
"I lost him." Amanda wrenched his face around to look at her. "Why do you have to speak in riddles like that? A simple 'I don't know' would have worked."
Methos's mouth quirked. "In that case, I don't know."
Amanda hit his shoulder and he danced backwards to the stairs. "Smart ass," she chirped.
"Shrew," he muttered.
"Grouch," she parried.
Methos laughed and gestured for her to follow him. "Can we continue this witty repartee over a drink? I'm destroying what little liquor Mac kept on this floating relic."
"Tsk tsk," she groused as she descended the steps behind him. "Relic? Aw, compared to you this thing is infantile--"
"I get the picture," he silenced her with a gesture, sauntered over to the bar, and poured them both generous lengths of brandy.
Amanda let her eyes pass over the room. She had forgotten how much Duncan had really gone all out with the 'I deny anything but the essentials' bit. *She* could never live this way. Instead, Amanda expressed her disgust with a wrinkled nose. "This is very Spartan."
Methos seemed to look around in genuine surprise and consideration. "No," he said simply. "It isn't at all. The Spartans would have--"
"Ah ah ah," Amanda whined and waved her hand to the glass he carried to her. "Just give it up. You know what I meant."
Methos raised an eyebrow. "You think?" He glanced around. "I was thinking Mac put in all this extra space just in case Michael Flatley and the cast of 'Riverdance' showed up." He dropped unceremoniously onto a pile of cushions on the floor.
"Oh yeah, you have to be prepared," she murmured, falling bonelessly to the ground. "So," she drawled, sipping from her glass. This most certainly was Mac's brand. Methos could care less about taste sometimes. "What are you doing here?"
Methos smirked. "Two words: free rent."
Amanda laughed. "Does he know you're here?"
"Does it matter?" he mused, gesturing to the undisturbed innards of the barge.
"Touche," she told him, raising her glass and finishing her drink. Methos sprawled out onto his back, propping his head up. Amanda leaned back onto her side, and Methos closed his eyes, an enormous compliment to her that he did so.
"So, where are all the bad Immortals that Joe says are sticking to you like glue?" he asked, eyes closed. Amanda started, and wondered when he had had time to talk to Joe about her. When she shrugged, he smiled to himself, eyes still shut. "You're lucky I'm not one of them. It would really put a damper on my day to have to take your head-"
"As if!" Amanda interjected, mock indignant.
"And have to clean up the barge," he finished, opening his eyes and smiling wryly. Amanda considered the veracity of his statement for a minute.
Once she would have said that Methos was more into peace than fighting. She was still right about that, in a way. But somehow that belief had eroded into one that inactivity and unwillingness meant cowardice and that cowardice meant ineptitude. That, Amanda mused, would be a huge mistake. When Methos looked at her with those cold though teasing eyes, she got the distinct feeling that he was dissecting her, picking apart her strengths and weaknesses to catalogue and know, should he ever have to face her over point and edge.
The more terrifying thing was that it was true. Duncan would have never looked at her that way. It would have never even crossed his mind. Methos could size her up (accurately, she knew) and could pick most of her good strategies apart without even watching her fight.
She must have stiffened or something at the comment, because he sighed, long and
suffering, turning his head away from her to the side as if he were going to fall asleep. "Amanda," he whispered hoarsely, looking suddenly tired and overcome. "I think a great deal, but as you know, I have been for the past few centuries, quite inactive."
Amanda couldn't resist. "Volcanoes are inactive, it doesn't mean they aren't dangerous. Look at Vesuvius, or Montserrat."
Methos turned his head to her, and opened one critical eye. "Are you implying that I contain the potential to become a molten rock-spewing disaster?" She laid next to him, stretching out her legs, and the two of them stared at the ceiling.
"Behold the Immortal Krakatoa," she scoffed. "And just as old too."
Methos groaned. "I thought the age jokes would die with Rich--" he cut himself off. Amanda was silent, pondering. Was he being careful because of her?
"I lost him too, and he was a little crazy with the age jokes. Not around me of course," she added. "Because I don't look a day over--"
Methos snorted, and splashed her with brandy. "Hey!" she squealed. "This is Versace!"
"And this is Eddie Bauer," he sang back, picking at his pullover. "I guess I'm just used to editing my conversations for Joe, and Mac."
Amanda sighed. "Mac won't ever live this down," she murmured to Methos, who had closed his eyes.
"Yes he will. It just takes time," he said earnestly. Amanda studied his face, and smiled.
"And you would know, wouldn't you?" she giggled. "Tell, me --in honor of the dead-how old were you when they discovered fire?" Methos watched her face, and smirked, stretching.
"Ah, yes, my tenth birthday," he drawled, and Amanda laughed. Methos yawned and stood. "Just for that, my dear, you can buy me lunch."
"Lunch?" she stalled as she slipped on the hard wood floor. She scrambled up just in time to catch her sword leaden coat before it hit her in the face. "Since when is four o' clock in the afternoon lunchtime?"
"Since eleven was breakfast," Methos answered. "I am nocturnal. Mmmm, I feel...oh yes, Peruvian. Yes, and broiled bananas." He sighed. "Yum."
Amanda yawned, mirroring Methos's earlier action. "I could eat. But *you* are paying. I don't live rent free."
"Yes, you do," Methos smiled and opened the door for her. She preceded him up the stairs as he locked up. "You own that club, and I know you're making money, so don't even try. Legitimate business owner you. What has it been, a hundred and fifty years for you?"
Amanda stopped and Methos bumped into her. "Hey!" she snorted. "How did you know that?"
Methos made a noise of disgust, pushing her forward. "I know something about a lot of things."
"I'll bet you do. Say," she stopped again and waited for him to descend the gangplank. "How do *you* make money, oh hoarding one?"
Methos glanced out at the water as they walked along the bank. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Oh. Stock."
"Stock? Really? In what?"
Methos turned to her. His face wrinkled with laughter. "Ever heard of Wal-Mart?"
"Oh," Amanda exclaimed. "Oh that's tacky. Really tacky," she moaned.
His grin was ironic. "But sublime."
***
"So, Duncan," Amanda said as they ambled down the bridge to the Ille de la Cite, no where special to go. Methos had let her link arms with him. It felt nice, comfy in fact, to be this close to an Immortal and know that her wasn't out for her head. At least, not right away. Methos was drowsy and smug. Drowsy, because he had just eaten one of the best dishes of Curry Lamb Calcutta that Paris could offer, and smug, because Amanda had paid.
Or so he thinks, Amanda mused. I wonder when he'll notice that I took the money from his wallet?
"Are we talking about Duncan, or was that a Freudian slip?" Methos chuckled.
"Oh, the former." Amanda frowned. "I mean, do you think that this is it?" Methos cast a strange look in her direction, and stared at his feet. Amanda wasn't finished. "What did he mean, 'never again'? Was that 'Never again will I take a head,' or 'Never again will I let your life be jeopardized, Amanda'?"
"Take it as you like it," Methos said softly. "I don't think I would know which to pick."
Amanda grunted. "He can't just give up," she growled. "That's not fair. I want to have him around. How can that be if he's off in a monastery being Darius the Sequel, or being a sulking warrior out in the wilds?" She waved her free hand. "And oh, I just don't know. What the hell do I care anyway..." she trailed off.
"That was a cop out line," Methos told her. "I think in a way I'm still mad at Mac, for Richie, and I think that bothers him," Methos said in earnest. "It's not rational, and for the love of all the Gods, I didn't especially adore Ryan, but what Mac did..." he paused. "I don't think I ever really understood that whole 'demonic' thing. But then again, I am very set in my ways."
"That was a cop out line," Amanda reminded him, and he snickered. "I know, I know. I wish I had gotten to say good bye. To Richie, I mean. One minute there, the next, poof."
"But how is that such a shocker, Amanda? There are lots of people we never get to say goodbye to. This isn't new." He shrugged. "I hate to fall into my role as the pragmatist here, but that's the way things are. No easy deaths for any of us, and no guarantees, you know that."
Amanda looked away out to the river to hide the fact that her eyes were watering. This was not the first time one of them had cried in front of the other, but something about crying in front of the world's oldest Immortal made her feel about three years old.
"I know, I know," she said. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe we all shouldn't be friends? I mean, it does create false hope, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
A pregnant pause, and Methos sighed. "So young to die. In the old days, no one was shocked when the young died first. I don't know when it changed, and now no one is shocked when the old die first, and the young survive. Makes me feel a trifle vulnerable. I never seem to be in the right category."
Amanda giggled. "I suppose you have terrible luck," she groaned.
He smiled as they approached their parting point. She would be returning to the bar, he to the barge. He might meet her later there, but she didn't bet on it. And she was a betting girl.
"I don't believe in luck," Methos told her. "But if I did, the results would defy augury."
She kissed his cheek, and stepped away from him. "I guess then, that this is it."
"Yep," Methos sidled backwards, as if he was eager to cut ties and run. "Oh, Amanda, don't worry about Mac. I'm sure he's up to his knees in misery." He stopped. "Or at least in a place where you and I would be wallowing in misery. I guarantee he's having a riot."
Amanda smiled. "Monastery?" Methos nodded, and she shook her head. "You're right. I'll stick to the bar. And speaking of which?" Amanda raised an eyebrow, hoping to see an affirmative in Methos's face. He shrugged.
"You know whatever, I'll see you around," he said non-commitally, and she was not disappointed, strangely. "Oh, here-" Methos pulled out his wallet, and Amanda stuttered.
"M-m-methos, don't worry about--"
Methos withdrew some cash, put his wallet away, and pressed a wad of bills into her hand. She stiffened. "Call today, dutch." he murmured, then set off for the barge at a jaunt. Amanda stared at the cash in her hand, than at Methos's departing frame. She opened her purse, removing her wallet. Her cash was gone. He'd given her exactly the amount of what she'd originally had, minus her half of lunch.
"You old, conniving--" she glanced up, but Methos was gone. Wrapped in the paper bills was a matchbook from the restaurant. She opened it and read the inscription aloud. "'Age before beauty, every time, Adam. PS, I have your Gold Card, so be good'?" Amanda shouted. "THAT'S BRAND NEW! You bastard, do you even know how hard it is to get a new one of those issued?" Amanda growled.
***
"Hey Princess, someone steal the crown jewels-- back?" Nick joked as Amanda stormed into the bar, poured herself a drink, and slammed herself on one of the stools.
"Not exactly but close," Amanda snorted delicately.
Nick watched her slump her shoulders and smiled. "Yeah, well, whatever they stole I'm sure you deserved it." Amanda made a face of agreement, nodded and laughed to herself. "Oh, and while you were gone, these came for you. You just missed the delivery guy, in fact."
Amanda followed Nick's gesture to the arrangement of flowers at the far end of the bar. "Who are they from?"
Nick snorted. "I'm too smart to open anything that's addressed to you," he replied, and sipped his coffee.
Amanda circled the huge display. It was an old bouquet flower type. Lilies long and bending, intermingled with blood red roses, and at the edges wreathed in an old flower type, called "Survivor's Ivy." Used only on the graves of dead and decorated soldiers now, originally wives gathered this ivy after wars to weave crowns for the heads and shoulders of their returning husbands and lovers. That anyone might even stock this in a florist's shop was a little off-setting.
It was a salute of death, love and survival. It was a token of respect. Amanda sighed, and opened the little envelope, knowing that she really didn't need to.
There was no card. She pulled out the slip of folded paper, unfolded it, and stared at her Gold Card.
Amanda tilted her head to the side, she reached out and moved one of the lilies to the left a bit. She thought about Duncan, gone, and Richie, who she never said goodbye to, and Methos, who never said goodbye to her. She wondered if Duncan was happy.
Amanda leaned back into Nick. It would be a long time before she got used to being without other Immortals again.
"Ah," she breathed, as Nick glanced over her shoulder. "Conniving, and profound, old man," she whispered.
"Your Gold Card?" he asked. "And who would send you ivy? What's up with that?"
Amanda clasped the card to her breast, and sighed. "No one," she answered, feeling poetic. Nick wouldn't understand, but then, it wasn't entirely comprehendible. And that may have even have been the point. "Long past stories and lovers, made of breath and wind."
FINIS
The Wind
The wind has taken you
You're free finally at peace
So still you lie
Leaving your cares behind
The pain is gone
Gone with the spirit in your eyes
Now you're wandering around
Above us
Looking downward
As we cry
You've flown into the wind
Escaping all the hurt within
Took to the sky
leaving the world behind
So young to die
How could you let it all pass you by
And to the wind go so many dreams
That you held inside
Now you're just a memory
Burning in my mind
So young to die
How could you let life pass you by
And now you'll never know I loved you
And now you'll never know I cared
I really loved you
And now you'll never know
You'll only fade
Into the wind
Mariah Carey
Thanks to the betas....wait, THIS IS THE LYRIC WHEEL!! THERE ARE NO BETAS!! FOOLED YOU!! Allrightie then, here ya go, Jessi, I hope it's all you dreamed for, thought I bet you thought Richie would be in here....oh well, I guess it matches the *spirit* of the song, even though this did run over a page...whoopies...thanks to Alice, who betaed this actually, after I posted to the wheel...all feedback to deparsons@earthlink.net I LOOOOVE feedback, like I love breathing, or my new, shiny Zippo lighter...mmm...
Made Of Breath and Wind
by Amand-r, the vacuum cleaner queen
------------------------------------------
You shouldn't be here, Amanda told herself. But she was in Paris, and no visit to the City of Lights, the City of Romance would be complete if she didn't unexpectedly drop in on Duncan, like the long lost child she pretended to be. Long lost, she thought. Rebecca's laughing at you somewhere. She dared a glance up at the sky, overcast, gloomy, too much like her mood. What was that called when weather imitated the events about to occur in a play?
And why do you even care? Methos would know. Amanda ducked her smiling face as she passed an old man ensconced on a park bench near the water. She hadn't thought about the "world's oldest Immortal" in months. That was full of the sigil of something disastrous. Would Methos materialize if she conjured hard enough? It wouldn't be the first time the ancient would seem to have appeared by magic.
Duncan's barge was lit, and a few more brisk strides towards the iron hulk revealed his Presence. A few more after that and the man himself came into view, the head a short cropped thatch of darkness blending into the pilothouse. But- the frame was all wrong, even from this distance, and the face was way too pale.
"I'll be damned," she muttered, and quickened her pace. "Speak of the devil!" she laughed.
Methos echoed her chuckle. "Not the first time, Amanda." The immortal shoved his hands in his pockets. "I didn't know you were in town. When'd you get in?"
Amanda walked the gangplank and clasped Methos's shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug and generous kiss on the cheek. "Not long at all, a week, two. Where's Mac?" She watched Methos's eyes darken.
"A question, the answer to which, only the one sought knows for sure," he answered, scanning the background behind her. "Where's your watcher?"
"I lost him." Amanda wrenched his face around to look at her. "Why do you have to speak in riddles like that? A simple 'I don't know' would have worked."
Methos's mouth quirked. "In that case, I don't know."
Amanda hit his shoulder and he danced backwards to the stairs. "Smart ass," she chirped.
"Shrew," he muttered.
"Grouch," she parried.
Methos laughed and gestured for her to follow him. "Can we continue this witty repartee over a drink? I'm destroying what little liquor Mac kept on this floating relic."
"Tsk tsk," she groused as she descended the steps behind him. "Relic? Aw, compared to you this thing is infantile--"
"I get the picture," he silenced her with a gesture, sauntered over to the bar, and poured them both generous lengths of brandy.
Amanda let her eyes pass over the room. She had forgotten how much Duncan had really gone all out with the 'I deny anything but the essentials' bit. *She* could never live this way. Instead, Amanda expressed her disgust with a wrinkled nose. "This is very Spartan."
Methos seemed to look around in genuine surprise and consideration. "No," he said simply. "It isn't at all. The Spartans would have--"
"Ah ah ah," Amanda whined and waved her hand to the glass he carried to her. "Just give it up. You know what I meant."
Methos raised an eyebrow. "You think?" He glanced around. "I was thinking Mac put in all this extra space just in case Michael Flatley and the cast of 'Riverdance' showed up." He dropped unceremoniously onto a pile of cushions on the floor.
"Oh yeah, you have to be prepared," she murmured, falling bonelessly to the ground. "So," she drawled, sipping from her glass. This most certainly was Mac's brand. Methos could care less about taste sometimes. "What are you doing here?"
Methos smirked. "Two words: free rent."
Amanda laughed. "Does he know you're here?"
"Does it matter?" he mused, gesturing to the undisturbed innards of the barge.
"Touche," she told him, raising her glass and finishing her drink. Methos sprawled out onto his back, propping his head up. Amanda leaned back onto her side, and Methos closed his eyes, an enormous compliment to her that he did so.
"So, where are all the bad Immortals that Joe says are sticking to you like glue?" he asked, eyes closed. Amanda started, and wondered when he had had time to talk to Joe about her. When she shrugged, he smiled to himself, eyes still shut. "You're lucky I'm not one of them. It would really put a damper on my day to have to take your head-"
"As if!" Amanda interjected, mock indignant.
"And have to clean up the barge," he finished, opening his eyes and smiling wryly. Amanda considered the veracity of his statement for a minute.
Once she would have said that Methos was more into peace than fighting. She was still right about that, in a way. But somehow that belief had eroded into one that inactivity and unwillingness meant cowardice and that cowardice meant ineptitude. That, Amanda mused, would be a huge mistake. When Methos looked at her with those cold though teasing eyes, she got the distinct feeling that he was dissecting her, picking apart her strengths and weaknesses to catalogue and know, should he ever have to face her over point and edge.
The more terrifying thing was that it was true. Duncan would have never looked at her that way. It would have never even crossed his mind. Methos could size her up (accurately, she knew) and could pick most of her good strategies apart without even watching her fight.
She must have stiffened or something at the comment, because he sighed, long and
suffering, turning his head away from her to the side as if he were going to fall asleep. "Amanda," he whispered hoarsely, looking suddenly tired and overcome. "I think a great deal, but as you know, I have been for the past few centuries, quite inactive."
Amanda couldn't resist. "Volcanoes are inactive, it doesn't mean they aren't dangerous. Look at Vesuvius, or Montserrat."
Methos turned his head to her, and opened one critical eye. "Are you implying that I contain the potential to become a molten rock-spewing disaster?" She laid next to him, stretching out her legs, and the two of them stared at the ceiling.
"Behold the Immortal Krakatoa," she scoffed. "And just as old too."
Methos groaned. "I thought the age jokes would die with Rich--" he cut himself off. Amanda was silent, pondering. Was he being careful because of her?
"I lost him too, and he was a little crazy with the age jokes. Not around me of course," she added. "Because I don't look a day over--"
Methos snorted, and splashed her with brandy. "Hey!" she squealed. "This is Versace!"
"And this is Eddie Bauer," he sang back, picking at his pullover. "I guess I'm just used to editing my conversations for Joe, and Mac."
Amanda sighed. "Mac won't ever live this down," she murmured to Methos, who had closed his eyes.
"Yes he will. It just takes time," he said earnestly. Amanda studied his face, and smiled.
"And you would know, wouldn't you?" she giggled. "Tell, me --in honor of the dead-how old were you when they discovered fire?" Methos watched her face, and smirked, stretching.
"Ah, yes, my tenth birthday," he drawled, and Amanda laughed. Methos yawned and stood. "Just for that, my dear, you can buy me lunch."
"Lunch?" she stalled as she slipped on the hard wood floor. She scrambled up just in time to catch her sword leaden coat before it hit her in the face. "Since when is four o' clock in the afternoon lunchtime?"
"Since eleven was breakfast," Methos answered. "I am nocturnal. Mmmm, I feel...oh yes, Peruvian. Yes, and broiled bananas." He sighed. "Yum."
Amanda yawned, mirroring Methos's earlier action. "I could eat. But *you* are paying. I don't live rent free."
"Yes, you do," Methos smiled and opened the door for her. She preceded him up the stairs as he locked up. "You own that club, and I know you're making money, so don't even try. Legitimate business owner you. What has it been, a hundred and fifty years for you?"
Amanda stopped and Methos bumped into her. "Hey!" she snorted. "How did you know that?"
Methos made a noise of disgust, pushing her forward. "I know something about a lot of things."
"I'll bet you do. Say," she stopped again and waited for him to descend the gangplank. "How do *you* make money, oh hoarding one?"
Methos glanced out at the water as they walked along the bank. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Oh. Stock."
"Stock? Really? In what?"
Methos turned to her. His face wrinkled with laughter. "Ever heard of Wal-Mart?"
"Oh," Amanda exclaimed. "Oh that's tacky. Really tacky," she moaned.
His grin was ironic. "But sublime."
***
"So, Duncan," Amanda said as they ambled down the bridge to the Ille de la Cite, no where special to go. Methos had let her link arms with him. It felt nice, comfy in fact, to be this close to an Immortal and know that her wasn't out for her head. At least, not right away. Methos was drowsy and smug. Drowsy, because he had just eaten one of the best dishes of Curry Lamb Calcutta that Paris could offer, and smug, because Amanda had paid.
Or so he thinks, Amanda mused. I wonder when he'll notice that I took the money from his wallet?
"Are we talking about Duncan, or was that a Freudian slip?" Methos chuckled.
"Oh, the former." Amanda frowned. "I mean, do you think that this is it?" Methos cast a strange look in her direction, and stared at his feet. Amanda wasn't finished. "What did he mean, 'never again'? Was that 'Never again will I take a head,' or 'Never again will I let your life be jeopardized, Amanda'?"
"Take it as you like it," Methos said softly. "I don't think I would know which to pick."
Amanda grunted. "He can't just give up," she growled. "That's not fair. I want to have him around. How can that be if he's off in a monastery being Darius the Sequel, or being a sulking warrior out in the wilds?" She waved her free hand. "And oh, I just don't know. What the hell do I care anyway..." she trailed off.
"That was a cop out line," Methos told her. "I think in a way I'm still mad at Mac, for Richie, and I think that bothers him," Methos said in earnest. "It's not rational, and for the love of all the Gods, I didn't especially adore Ryan, but what Mac did..." he paused. "I don't think I ever really understood that whole 'demonic' thing. But then again, I am very set in my ways."
"That was a cop out line," Amanda reminded him, and he snickered. "I know, I know. I wish I had gotten to say good bye. To Richie, I mean. One minute there, the next, poof."
"But how is that such a shocker, Amanda? There are lots of people we never get to say goodbye to. This isn't new." He shrugged. "I hate to fall into my role as the pragmatist here, but that's the way things are. No easy deaths for any of us, and no guarantees, you know that."
Amanda looked away out to the river to hide the fact that her eyes were watering. This was not the first time one of them had cried in front of the other, but something about crying in front of the world's oldest Immortal made her feel about three years old.
"I know, I know," she said. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe we all shouldn't be friends? I mean, it does create false hope, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
A pregnant pause, and Methos sighed. "So young to die. In the old days, no one was shocked when the young died first. I don't know when it changed, and now no one is shocked when the old die first, and the young survive. Makes me feel a trifle vulnerable. I never seem to be in the right category."
Amanda giggled. "I suppose you have terrible luck," she groaned.
He smiled as they approached their parting point. She would be returning to the bar, he to the barge. He might meet her later there, but she didn't bet on it. And she was a betting girl.
"I don't believe in luck," Methos told her. "But if I did, the results would defy augury."
She kissed his cheek, and stepped away from him. "I guess then, that this is it."
"Yep," Methos sidled backwards, as if he was eager to cut ties and run. "Oh, Amanda, don't worry about Mac. I'm sure he's up to his knees in misery." He stopped. "Or at least in a place where you and I would be wallowing in misery. I guarantee he's having a riot."
Amanda smiled. "Monastery?" Methos nodded, and she shook her head. "You're right. I'll stick to the bar. And speaking of which?" Amanda raised an eyebrow, hoping to see an affirmative in Methos's face. He shrugged.
"You know whatever, I'll see you around," he said non-commitally, and she was not disappointed, strangely. "Oh, here-" Methos pulled out his wallet, and Amanda stuttered.
"M-m-methos, don't worry about--"
Methos withdrew some cash, put his wallet away, and pressed a wad of bills into her hand. She stiffened. "Call today, dutch." he murmured, then set off for the barge at a jaunt. Amanda stared at the cash in her hand, than at Methos's departing frame. She opened her purse, removing her wallet. Her cash was gone. He'd given her exactly the amount of what she'd originally had, minus her half of lunch.
"You old, conniving--" she glanced up, but Methos was gone. Wrapped in the paper bills was a matchbook from the restaurant. She opened it and read the inscription aloud. "'Age before beauty, every time, Adam. PS, I have your Gold Card, so be good'?" Amanda shouted. "THAT'S BRAND NEW! You bastard, do you even know how hard it is to get a new one of those issued?" Amanda growled.
***
"Hey Princess, someone steal the crown jewels-- back?" Nick joked as Amanda stormed into the bar, poured herself a drink, and slammed herself on one of the stools.
"Not exactly but close," Amanda snorted delicately.
Nick watched her slump her shoulders and smiled. "Yeah, well, whatever they stole I'm sure you deserved it." Amanda made a face of agreement, nodded and laughed to herself. "Oh, and while you were gone, these came for you. You just missed the delivery guy, in fact."
Amanda followed Nick's gesture to the arrangement of flowers at the far end of the bar. "Who are they from?"
Nick snorted. "I'm too smart to open anything that's addressed to you," he replied, and sipped his coffee.
Amanda circled the huge display. It was an old bouquet flower type. Lilies long and bending, intermingled with blood red roses, and at the edges wreathed in an old flower type, called "Survivor's Ivy." Used only on the graves of dead and decorated soldiers now, originally wives gathered this ivy after wars to weave crowns for the heads and shoulders of their returning husbands and lovers. That anyone might even stock this in a florist's shop was a little off-setting.
It was a salute of death, love and survival. It was a token of respect. Amanda sighed, and opened the little envelope, knowing that she really didn't need to.
There was no card. She pulled out the slip of folded paper, unfolded it, and stared at her Gold Card.
Amanda tilted her head to the side, she reached out and moved one of the lilies to the left a bit. She thought about Duncan, gone, and Richie, who she never said goodbye to, and Methos, who never said goodbye to her. She wondered if Duncan was happy.
Amanda leaned back into Nick. It would be a long time before she got used to being without other Immortals again.
"Ah," she breathed, as Nick glanced over her shoulder. "Conniving, and profound, old man," she whispered.
"Your Gold Card?" he asked. "And who would send you ivy? What's up with that?"
Amanda clasped the card to her breast, and sighed. "No one," she answered, feeling poetic. Nick wouldn't understand, but then, it wasn't entirely comprehendible. And that may have even have been the point. "Long past stories and lovers, made of breath and wind."
FINIS
The Wind
The wind has taken you
You're free finally at peace
So still you lie
Leaving your cares behind
The pain is gone
Gone with the spirit in your eyes
Now you're wandering around
Above us
Looking downward
As we cry
You've flown into the wind
Escaping all the hurt within
Took to the sky
leaving the world behind
So young to die
How could you let it all pass you by
And to the wind go so many dreams
That you held inside
Now you're just a memory
Burning in my mind
So young to die
How could you let life pass you by
And now you'll never know I loved you
And now you'll never know I cared
I really loved you
And now you'll never know
You'll only fade
Into the wind
Mariah Carey