It's a Good Thing (1/2)

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Title: It's a Good Thing
Author: Isolde
Rating: General
Characters: The Four Horsemen and a surprise quest.
Archive: 7th Dim - yes please, others please ask.
Feedback: I'd be honoured. Please send to: isolde_3@yahoo.com
An HTML version of this story is available at:
http://www.geocities.com/isolde_3/fanfiction/itsagoodthing.html

Disclaimers: None of these people are mine. Written for
the Quickening Lyric Wheel and based on, Comes a Horsemen,
and Rev 6.8.

Acknowledgements: This story was written for the
Quickening Lyric Wheel - thank you to Chuck for the
lyrics.  And thanks to Cherna for the beta!

******
It's a Good Thing
By Isolde
May 27, 2001

Hunting her had been such fun but it was time to end the game.
There were far more pressing issues to contemplate now that
he'd found his brother. One more night of indulgence and then
it was time for more serious affairs.

Her limousine was at the back door. "Perfect," he murmured,
then chuckled smoothly while stepping from the Jaguar. At
least the time he'd spent ascertaining her routine hadn't
been a total waste. The studio would be empty, with only a
few stagehands deliberating over tomorrow's props. It
didn't really matter to him where her head came off, but
it was best to keep it private. He didn't need to attract
attention at this crucial time in his plans.

He quietly slipped into the backstage entrance and headed
for the set. Just as he'd surmised, she was alone. He
couldn't help but smile, noting the level of anxiety on
her features as his presence registered across them.

Sensing him, she placed her clipboard and pen carefully
on the counter, exchanging them for a pearl-handled scimitar.
Rising to her feet, she arranged the chair neatly back under
the desk area before staring into the shadows beyond the
stage lights. "Who is there? You had best leave... now! Or
perhaps you didn't or couldn't read the sign that clearly
states, 'Authorized Personnel Only'," she chuckled haughtily.

Her tone was dripping with confidence and condescension, which
he'd found amusing upon first hearing it several centuries ago.
Now it grated on his nerves, causing his jaw to clench. It was
like a rasping, monotonic chorus, bellowing with disregard for
those unfortunate enough to be in hearing range.

Yes, it was well past the time to put her away. These days, he
rarely went out of his way to kill, but he'd make an exception
for this woman. "Have I taken you unawares? I know you weren't
expecting guests," he said indifferently, then stepped out of
the shadows. A slight smile gently curled his lips as he bowed,
exaggerating his movements in a mocking gesture. "The King has
come for his Queen." He peered up and his smile broadened as
he added, "Her head to be exact." As he moved closer, the stage
lights brightly illuminated his features, enhancing the brief
predatory flash in his eyes. "Do you think it will part from
your shoulders as neatly as everything else in your life?" he
asked with a touch of humour, contrary to his intent.

"Your arrogance and stupidity are still clearly not good first
impressions. You have gained no manners," she said disdainfully
while shaking her head. "No sudden movements," she demanded.
"You cannot come in here as if you owned the place. This is my
arena, not yours." She took a few steps closer and slowly raised
her sword. "If you have gained any sense in all these years,
you'll leave while you still can walk." She lowered, then
circled the sword point near his abdomen. "Among other things."
She smiled coldly.

Peering down at the blade, he smiled and lazily ran his
fingertips over the zipper of his jeans. "You're a bit high for
other things, or low, depending how one takes it." The smile on
his face swept clean as he unsheathed his sword. "Pity it
doesn't matter though, in a few moments nothing will matter...
to you." He smiled coldly and moved towards her.

"C'mon and get me you twist of fate. I'm standing right here
Mr. Destiny." She chuckled, then added, "Oh I'm sorry that's
Mr. End of Time. Are you sure I can't interest you in something
to drink? No..." Her lips curled in a vicious grin. "If you
want to talk well then I'll relate. If you don't, so what,
cause you don't scare me."

**********

"So you're back!" A devilish smile crossed his features as he
causally stepped down the stairway.

"What'd you think I'd do? Run and hide?" Methos narrowed his
eyes on Kronos as he approached. His brother was wearing a
finely tailored suit and loafers. He held back the urge to
chuckle at his attire, instead stiffening as Kronos passed
by.

"No, you're too smart for that. You know I'd track you down...
and kill you."

"Well, it's nice to feel wanted."

"Not want. Need," Kronos hissed, and briefly turned to fix
his icy glare upon the other man. "Dozens of times I tried to
take up the old ways and failed. The ones I rode with were
trash... scum," he said disdainfully. Glancing down, he
adjusted his silk tie. "They didn't know the meaning of true
terror." His eyes flashed briefly with reminiscence. "I had
no one to plan my raids. No one who understood the true use
of terror." Nodding at Methos he went on, "You are one of a
kind, Methos. As we all were. There was never a band like
us. Never in all history." He walked cautiously over to a
desk and ran his hands over the computer monitor, wiping
off the dust. "Damn place is impossible to keep clean."

His eyes now adjusted to the darkness of the room, Methos
peered around with disbelief. The entire area was
luxuriously decorated, something he hadn't noticed when
he'd first been here. Not only was it filled with furnishings
artfully situated, but they were all color-coordinated. He
gasped, taking in a deep breath, trying to compose himself.

Kronos still had his back turned but Methos could see him
arranging flowers in a crystal vase resting on the corner
of the desk. This was not the same man that had taken him
unawares the night before. Slowly maneuvering his sword
behind his back, he moved closer. "You took quite a risk,
letting me out of your sight."

Seemingly unconcerned, Kronos pulled a miniature rose from
the arrangement and fixed it to his lapel. "A lot of time
has passed since we rode together. I had to be sure of you."

Methos lunged for the other man, but Kronos turned and
swiftly raised a dagger to his throat. "And now I am,"
he said bluntly, while shoving Methos back. In the
pending struggle, the vase crashed to the floor.

Methos backed away and raised his hands in frustration,
his voice echoing the exasperated movements. "Don't you
understand? I'm not like that anymore. I -- I have
changed."

Kronos scowled at the broken vase and eyed the other man
with contempt. "No. You pretended to. Maybe even convinced
yourself you had, but inside you're still there, Methos.
You're like me, except for your clumsiness. Look what
you've done! That was a rare German vase." He moved closer,
twirling the dagger ominously.

"Clumsy... What the... " He didn't know how to react. This
had to be some new form of mind game his brother was playing.
He would not be toyed with. Raising his chin defiantly,
he coldly replied, "Not anymore."

Only a few feet away from Methos, Kronos stopped and
grinned, and a soft disbelieving chuckle escaped. "No?
Tell me you haven't missed it."

"The killing?"

"The freedom! The power! Riding out of the sun knowing
that you're the most terrifying thing that they've ever
known. Knowing that their weapons and their gods are useless
against you; that you're the last and best dressed thing
they'll ever see."

Methos closed his eyes. He struggled to keep hold of his
 sanity as Kronos' vision of reality ripped through his
consciousness. He couldn't speak, breathing was difficult
enough. //Best dressed?// A growing horror filled him,
and as he felt the other man near, he shook.

"That's what you're meant to be, Methos. Don't fight it,
feel it." Kronos' velvet tone shielded the venom lying
just beneath. "You know Cassandra's here."

"We didn't exactly exchange gifts." His eyes re-opened,
meeting his brother's.

"You know that she'll kill you if she gets the chance."
Kronos fingered Methos' baggy sweater and scowled.
"You never could bring yourself to take her head, could
you? So I'm going to do it for you."

He pulled away from the touch. "And in return?"

"You kill Duncan MacLeod," he said evenly.

Methos' eyes narrowed. "But he's my friend. He's nothing
to you. Why?"

"Why? Because he's your friend!" He raised his voice a
little, "Because you still have to prove yourself!" He
pointed to Methos then back at himself. "Because YOU OWE
ME! And the list grows." He glanced back at the shattered
vase, then lifted the dagger and cut across his palm. He
handed it over to Methos. "Now swear. Swear you will kill
MacLeod!"

Methos took the dagger, mimicking his brother's actions.
"I swear." Blood dripped from his hand before Kronos could
grab hold of it.

"Dammit Methos! It's a blood oath, not a sacrifice!" He
shoved him towards the railing. "That rug was hand-made
and you've gotten blood on it. You know how difficult it
is to remove bloodstains." Kronos grew silent as his hand
clasped tightly around the other man's.

-----

After the close call between MacLeod and Kronos at the
power station, Methos needed to think fast. He'd have to
change his tactics or loose his head. Kronos was holding
his sword against Methos' neck, his eyes searing with
rage. "Why did you stop the fight?"

"Could have gone either way. I couldn't take the chance,"
Methos said indifferently.

Kronos moved closer, a cold expression on his features.
"Were you afraid of me losing? Or him? Have I been wrong
about you?"

Methos swallowed but said nothing.

Kronos' sword edged closer to Methos' neck. "Maybe I
should kill you right now and make absolutely sure."

Methos eyed him cautiously before responding, "If you do
that you'll never have the Four Horsemen."

"What are you saying?" Kronos' voice filled with mistrust.

Methos lifted his chin and raised an eyebrow. "Silas and
Caspian are alive."

"You're lying," Kronos hissed.

"I can take you to them."

Kronos withdrew the blade. "Then you live." He backed
slowly away, grinning exuberantly at his brother. "The
Four Horsemen ride again," he said, hauntingly. "After we
find another headquarters, that is. Damn, I'll have to
redecorate all over again. You know, I saw the perfect
table linens at Kmart, but they don't have that store in
France. It will have to be all designer items instead.
Oh well, I have a few dollars saved. Come Brother, we
have much to do." He grinned and walked away, leaving
Methos completely stunned.

Darkened hazel eyes narrowed on his brother, showing
only the illusion of death within their fathomless pools.
Hardening features sculpted themselves instantly into
the familiar mask, which concealed Methos' suspicions
and concern. There was something very wrong with Kronos,
beyond his usual expected behavior.

-----

Throughout the following days, Methos' suspicion and
concern led to horror as Kronos went on a maddening
shopping spree. He'd followed Kronos from one shop to
the next, quietly assisting him in the redecoration
of an abandoned submarine base. He'd cautiously studied
Kronos' mannerisms, his easy grace with fabric selection
and in-depth knowledge of color patterns, and yet, he
still couldn't be certain what Kronos was doing. Perhaps
this was just a phase. Or perhaps it was as he'd first
reasoned, some sort of mind game Kronos was testing on
him. Either way, it didn't matter, his brother was
unpredictable and dangerous and a damn good interior
decorator, and Methos was extremely puzzled and worried.
The worst part of it was that he'd been an accomplice
to it all, not only helping with the shopping but then
leading Kronos to Silas and Caspian.

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