29 March 2005
Highlander




The irritating thing about Cassandra is that somewhere in his head, he's still married to her.  It wasn't, by any modern standard, a healthy marriage, but it was good enough at the time.  Food, sex, and occasionally he brought her home dead things.  They were both filthy all the time, and he liked his horse better.

It's been a long time.  Somewhere between twenty-five hundred and three thousand years.  The fact that she's still holding a grudge is slightly childish.

Either that or she's right and none of them ever change.

Someday he's going to explain to MacLeod why it's significant that they've shared her.  Two thousand years apart, but she's still his wife, and MacLeod's never quite realized that.

MacLeod's women are strung across the world and his whole life, but he's not a marrying man.  And yet, sometimes Mac comes nosing around, offering drinks and company.  He pretends he begrudges the offers, but if Methos forgets to accept at least one, Mac's hurt lasts for months.

Months isn't so long.  If they're cautious, they might both live forever. 

Forever will be sticky and periodically painful, and if they aren't careful, he and MacLeod will still be bound up in each other thousands of years from now. 

He knows, really, that Cassandra's wrong.  They're all impossibly older now.  Except for MacLeod, who's juvenile in ways that are hard to explain and difficult to ignore. 

Methos is giving Mac a century to grow out of him.  If he's still interested in a hundred years, they might have to try it.



jane
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