You goddamn son of a bitch. The challenge was mine! Why in heavenís name did you pretend to be me when that wet-behind-the-ears babe stepped out of the shadows with his sword?

Do you have any idea how tired I am of being protected by you? I appreciate the fact that you believe Iím worthy of being the last Immortal standing at the End. But did you ever ask me if I wanted to be the One? Why would I?

I realize we have no idea what will happen at the End, but there is one thing I know for certain. If Iím the only Immortal standing, then it means all of my friends are dead. Thatís *not* a future I want to be part of.

My future is here and now, with you. Are you so blind that you cannot see my love for you? Do you think it is mere friendship that welcomes you each time you step into my life? The things I have endured, the things I have done . . . all because I love you.

And donít even dare throw that brotherhood shit philosophy in my face. Itís not a brother I want warming my sheets or kissing me senseless. Itís you, Methos, the Ancient of all Immortals.

I want to feel you naked in my arms, my body embracing you in a way it has never done before. You have sprawled across my couch for so many nights. Did you never once consider sprawling across my bed and allowing me to sheath my sword inside your body?

The night has been the only witness to my insatiable hunger for the past two years. In my dreams I have tasted your moans, marked your pale skin with my teeth and experienced the weight of your slenderness pressing against me as I bring you to the very edge of ecstasy. Iím haunted by a union of flesh and spirit I desperately need only to be denied its comfort with the coming of the dawn.

Watch out! Methos! No!

My heart shatters as you fall to your knees, surrendering your head to this punk, an arrogant child who is not even worthy of existing in the air that you breathe.

I nearly turn away, not sure I can bear to watch you die, but I force myself to remain at your side. Even though you never were my lover, you have been a good friend to me, Methos. I will not leave you to face the end alone.

My feelings for you, Iím sure, are clearly etched on my face. Iím sorry. I do not mean to burden you with my love during the last minutes of your life.

You raise your face to me, and the moon casts its illumination upon your handsome features, directing my gaze to your eyes. Your very *expressive* eyes.

You bastard! How could you? How dare you!

You kneel on the hard ground, a sword at your neck and silently declare your love for me? Seconds before you die?

I step forward, not sure if I want to stop your death or hasten it.

You fucking bastard! I canít believe you would do this to me. Show me heaven and hell in the pause of a heartbeat.

Do you have any idea what this means to me? What this *will* mean to me? You love me. You actually love me. And yet you give me this wondrous gift on the eve of your death. How in the hell am I supposed to live without you, without your love in my life?

I might have survived your death knowing you only thought of me as your friend. But now, knowing you love me . . . what joy will there be in living without the one who has laid claim to my heart for all eternity? I would rather join you in the darkness than be forced to live in the light without your smile.

Yes. That's it.

I close my eyes and accept the fate you have placed at my feet, my hand reaching for my sword.

I know what I must do.




You goddamn son of bitch. How dare you!

With a kiss, I claim your sly smile and thank the gods for the second chance they have so graciously granted us. I love you, Methos. Now, bring that sexy body of yours back over here and make me howl.

The end.