“When Did Forever Die?”
by: Denise Underwood
c. 2001
Part Ten
Methos had been so hopeful when he’d returned from his trip. He’d wanted to
share his discovery with his wife. But somehow, in the weeks he’d been
gone, the distance between them had grown. Instead of healing their wounds,
it had been more like rubbing salt in them. They’d fought, more than once,
during the conference. Methos had even gone so far as to accuse the
Federation of having a hand in the plot to assassinate Triona in an attempt
to force Imladris into the Federation fold.
Of course, all Methos had succeeded in doing was to drive his wife farther
away and closer to Picard. Then she’d made the announcement that she, with
Picard as the biological father, was going to attempt what their scientists
had said was possible: conceive a child of her own. Methos hadn’t even had
time to absorb the shock before Triona had left for Earth on the Enterprise.
“I keep saying, ‘I’m sorry’,” Triona said, her voice tired. “But it seems
so inadequate.”
Shaking his head sharply, he objected, “It is enough, love. I’m sorrier
than you can know, for so many things. Don’t you think I know that if I
hadn’t let my pride overrule my sense, that maybe things would be different?”
“No, this isn’t your fault, Methos!” She jumped up, beginning to pace in
agitation. “I started this centuries ago when I kept my meeting with Picard
from you. Just because I didn’t realize how complicated it would get is no
excuse. It was wrong, and I knew it was wrong then I know it now.”
Methos grabbed her arm, halting her. “Look at me, Triona. Please.” Doing as
he asked, she looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not going to argue with
you over who’s the most to blame.” This time, when he drew her down to sit
with him, he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. He’d
always loved the feel of her body against his and he’d missed the feel of
her next to him during their estrangement. Not just in bed, but the little
everyday touches: holding hands over the breakfast table, curled up in
front of the fireplace as a storm from the Vermilion Sea crashed and wailed
against the walls of house, or caressing her thigh under the table at some
interminable conference.
He wanted that back. If he hadn’t been sure when he’d felt her presence,
for the first time in nearly a year, yesterday, he was sure now. Whatever
it took, he was determined to fix their marriage. Triona wasn’t a woman
that he could ever just be friends with. If they were to end it all, it
would be for good. That thought was one he refused to contemplate.
“When you came back home, you tried to approach me, I know you did,” he
admitted. He felt her stiffen at his mention of their last fight. “I’m not
proud of how I acted that night. I was cruel and callous and I certainly
never gave you a chance.”
In almost five hundred years, Methos knew every vulnerability, weakness,
and fear, of his wife's. And he’d used that intimate knowledge to
devastating effect during their last meeting….
**************
She’d found him in his study. It was the middle of the night, but he hadn’t
been sleeping much these days. He tried ignoring her presence, but being
Immortals, it was pointless to pretend he didn’t know she was there. “I’m
busy, Triona,” he said before she had a chance to speak.
He heard her walk closer, until she was behind his chair. “I realize it’s
late, Methos. But I just got home and I saw the light on in here…” she
trailed off uncertainly.
“So you thought I’d drop everything to talk to you,” he finished. He cut
off her protest. “As hard as it might be for you to believe, the rest of us
do go on with our lives when you aren’t here.” He still refused to look at
her. In the weeks she’d been gone, his hurt had turned into a cold fury.
“That isn’t fair,” she objected.
“The truth rarely is,” he replied coldly. “I have a translation project
that I’m working on, and I really don’t have time for this.”
“Methos, please….”
“Please what?” Getting out of his chair, he rounded on her, the cold fury
exploding into hot rage. She took an involuntary step back. “Please listen
to my excuses and lies? Please understand why I left you without so much as
a backward glance? Please understand why I’m sleeping with Picard?” The
last was said with such venom that Triona blanched. She just shook her head
mutely, too stunned by his attack to respond. “What, no denials, no
excuses? What a concept!”
“You have it all figured out, don’t you?” she ground out, finally shaking
herself out of her shock. “You have all the answers!”
He just shook his head, turning away from her.
“So that’s how this works! You accuse and then refuse to participate. I
have better things to do than put up with this!” She whirled away, intent
on leaving the study.
“Sure, run away, Triona. Don’t you ever get tired of not taking
responsibility for your mistakes?” His voice was scathing.
Turning back, she exploded, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He answered her question with one of his own. “Talked to Joe lately?”
She swayed, and had to take hold of the door jam to steady herself. “Joe?
After all these years, you’re still blaming me for what happened? Didn’t I
suffer enough for that in your estimation, Methos? It was an *accident*,
you know that.”
“An accident, yes, how very convenient. If you had listened to me that day
and had stayed away like I asked, if you had kept out of something that was
none of your business…. But no, you had to get involved and Joe ended up a
vampire.”
There were tears in her eyes now and she angrily brushed them away. “I
didn’t know he was there! You know that. And even if I had, what was my
alternative? Would it have made you happier if I’d let Soto take my head
instead?”
"You're missing the point," he bit out. "When have you *ever* done anything
I asked? When have you ever really trusted me?"
"How can you even ask that?" she cried.
"Your capacity for self-deception never ceases to amaze me." He shook his
head in disgust; not caring that Triona looked like she was near emotional
collapse. "Did you trust me when you decided to be brought across? No, you
didn't!" He was shouting at her now. "If you had just trusted me, had told
me what you planned, everything, all of it, could have been avoided!"
All the fight had left Triona. "How could I have known what would happen,
Methos? I did the best I could. You don't understand; I felt like I was
left with no choice." Her voice held a note of pleading and desperation
that Methos ignored utterly.
"No, it's you that doesn't understand, Triona. You never have." Without
even a backward glance, he strode from the room.....
*************
“I came to you that night to ask you to reconsider your decision to be a
biological part of Lucia's creation...." Her voice cracked. "I so
desperately wanted to make it right."
"But I never gave you the chance," he said his voice full of regret for
what had been lost. "I'm so sorry."
"I know now you said those things out of pain.” The pain in her voice cut
like a knife. “I think I knew that then, but I was too hurt and too afraid
to deal with any of it. I just threw myself into planning Lucia’s creation
and birth. That, along with all my other duties didn’t leave me much time
to think about us.”
“I know you thought I’d left the system, and that’s what I wanted you to
think. What I did was go to the island and worked out my anger and regret
on stone and wood.”
Attempting to lighten the mood, she smiled and said, “That at least
explains the nice chest muscles you have going.” She let her palm linger
against the warmth of his skin. “Lucien told me that I just needed to give
you, give us, time. That I shouldn’t let the hurt get in the way of what we
were.”
“He can be so annoying when he’s right,” Methos said ruefully. “I guess I
owe him one for that.”
Triona laughed outright. “God, it’s so ironic. Who is it that always sets
us back on track? LaCroix! I’m still not sure that he quite understands how
he ended up with the job.”
“It’s good for him,” Methos said, joining in her laughter. Suddenly
serious, he turned her to face him. “You can ask me, Triona.”
She searched his face, not quite trusting his statement. He nodded in
encouragement. Swallowing, she almost whispered the question she’d wanted
to ask more than anything, “Will you come home with me, Methos? Will you be
a father to our daughter? She is *ours*, I so much want you to believe that.”
He didn’t answer, instead, picking up the data pad that Triona had
abandoned on the coffee table. “There’s a picture in here I don’t think you
saw,” he told her, handing her the slim device.
Tears began flowing down her face as she realized what the picture was of.
“It’s a nursery,” she said, a stunned expression on her face.
“I’ll come, my love. And then all of us will go home,” he placed his hand
over hers on the data pad, “together.”
Finis
-=- 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
