Written for Vagablonde
Methos closed his eyes, feeling the rhythm of the drums reverberating through his bones. He loved this music. Loved it! It was free, so raw.
Opening his eyes, he pushed through the crowd toward the stage. The Rolling Stones pounded out their latest hit as Methos reached the edge of the stage. He took a swig of his beer and glanced around him. No security.
Grinning, he charged the stage and sang to the top of his lungs.
"I can't get no...satisfaction!" He turned around and faced the crowd, who roared in response. "Thank you, London!" he yelled. Strong hands grabbed each of his arms and pulled them behind his back. Methos looked to the side to see a burly security guard through hazy eyes. "Oh, come on, man. I was only having a little fun."
The guard didn't say anything, only deposited onto the street. When the heavy door slammed behind him, Methos stood up and growled.
"So much for satisfaction!" he yelled.
Richie winced when the guards appeared and grabbed him by the arms. They lifted him out of the cell and dragged him towards the execution room. He so wasn’t looking forward to being electrocuted. He knew it wouldn’t kill him, but it would hurt like hell.
He wasn’t supposed to be there. He had been framed as a way to get close to Mac, but the fake evidence had been enough to convict him.
As they strapped him into the chair, he spotted some rope in the far corner. Almost immediately, he yelled, “That’s it! Hang me! Hang me!”
Joe noticed that Richie hadn’t moved from the bar since six, and it was now approaching midnight. Gripping his cane, he wandered down to where the young Immortal sat.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
Richie shrugged, still staring at his drink.
Joe leaned on the counter, undaunted. “You look like you just lost your best friend.”
“Close,” the blond mumbled. “Kendall dumped me.”
Joe shook his head, understanding. Richie and Kendall had been together for two years. Turning to the bartender, he said. “We’re going to need another drink down here; it’s going to be a long night.”
Tessa set down her fork and regarded the man sitting across from her. “All right, you got me here. Now why did you jump onto my boat?”
“I thought it might impress you,” Duncan answered with a chuckle.
“Sure.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “I’ll bet you say that to all the ladies.”
Duncan just smiled as he took a sip of wine. “When I saw you, I couldn’t help myself.”
Tessa just rolled her eyes. ‘This guy is so full of it,’ she thought. Based on this first date, she knew this relationship wasn’t going to last.
Tessa was worried. Drumming her fingernails on the table, she glanced up at the clock. Three minutes until midnight, and Duncan still hadn’t returned. Sighing, she looked at the other couples around her.
With two minutes to go, Duncan finally came out of the throng of the crowd. Just as he reached the table, a loud cheer swept the ballroom and the first few strands of “Auld Lang Syne” began.
“Miss me?” he asked, pulling her towards him.
“Where were you?”
“Just had to take care of something. Happy New Year.”
Before Tessa could respond, Duncan kissed her deeply.
With one flip of his wrist, the pencil smacked Richie in the back of the head. He whirled around and glared at Methos.
“What are you lookin’ at?” he challenged.
“Cut it out, Methos,” Duncan growled from his table.
“Or what?” Methos mocked. Not waiting for an answer, he moved down to Tessa’s table and wrapped an arm around her. “How about a kiss?”
“In your dreams,” she snapped as she slapped him. “Out of all the Saturday detentions, why did I get stuck with you?”
“I’m a permanent resident, baby,” Methos smiled as he sauntered back to his table.
Dropping his sword, Richie fell to his knees. How could he do this? He always knew he had to, but nothing had prepared him for it.
Slowly, the Quickening rose out of the headless body. It swirled and twisted until it became pure energy, almost like lightening. It bolted towards him, coursed through his body. Each strike hurt yet empowered him at the same time.
When it was over, Richie fell over. If this was what a Quickening felt like, he wasn’t sure he could deal with it. But he supposed the first time was always the hardest.
He had noticed her the moment she walked in. Red hair, beautiful smile, porcelain skin. She reminded him of a Celtic goddess.
Quietly, so as not to attract her attention, he followed her through the bookstore. She ambled around fiction, sauntered among mystery, and eventually, wandered over to the magazines. She seemed to have eclectic tastes, he noted.
Running a hand through his dark hair, he took a deep breath and approached her. “Hi.”
She glanced up, and her blue eyes sparkled. “Hello.”
“I’m John,” he said, holding out a hand.
“I’m Rebecca,” she replied, taking his hand in hers.
Shuffling his feet nervously on the gravel, Richie stood outside the dojo’s door. It had been ten years since he last saw his mentor, and they hadn’t parted on very good terms. What was he suppose to say to him? How was he supposed to act?
Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door and walked inside. Within a few minutes, he felt the familiar presence. He continued on into the main gym and stopped at the entrance to Duncan’s office. The older man nodded.
“Hey, Mac. Long time, no see.”
Without warning, Duncan smiled and invited Richie inside.
“You understand what you’re suppose to do, correct?” the small woman wearing dark sunglasses asked.
Richie leaned into the car window and smiled. “Of course. I’ve been to a few fancy parties in my lifetime.”
She peered at him over the top of her sunglasses. “Good because I don’t need anything to go wrong.”
“Trust me. I’ll get the information, and we’ll have our man.”
Settling into the car seat, she sighed. “I still can’t believe I’m trusting this to a kid.”
“I’m a lot older than I look.” Standing up, he adjusted his tuxedo and headed into the museum.