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Shadowplay
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The fog swirled around the hillside, eerily lit from above by the unseen moon and stars but still thick enough to make Gaius feel like he and Blaise were all alone in the world and that the next minute his dreams would become reality and step forth from the mists of which they were formed. He shrugged deeper into his woollen coat as he picked up a few extra logs than he'd originally intended; tonight he wanted the fire to burn as long as possible. The home he shared with Blaise was comfortable enough, but on nights like this he felt like he couldn't escape from the harsh reality of what it was – a cave in a hillside – without a little help from other sources.
Gaius leant on the door behind him for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the flame-lit brightness after the cold glimmer of the moonlit fog outside. Blaise smiled up at him from where he was busy by the fire with bottle and jug and spices.
"You brought in extra, good." Gaius said nothing in reply, just placed the wood in its storage box and began to struggle with removing his coat. "Before you take off your coat, settle the horse down, would you?"
"Horse?" They only had a donkey, and a rather elderly one at that, though she had the patience of a saint. Then Gaius' tired brain made the connections between the lack of sound and Blaise's preparations. "We're to have company?" Blaise nodded with a smile and Gaius sighed with relief. There was only one person it was likely to be at this time and Gaius almost cheerfully wrapped himself back up again; it had been a while since Methos had visited.
A spectral figure on a pale horse emerged from the fog that could almost have been formed of the fog itself, like something out of a nightmare. Tendrils of mist clung to hooves that made no sound and the heavily cloaked and hooded rider, accentuating the ethereal aspect of the figures. It would have been a nerve-racking moment but for one thing – nightmares were unlikely to laugh as if the sight of a bedraggled youth was the most amusing thing they'd ever seen.
Gaius approached once the horse had come to a stop in order to hold the reins as the rider slid from the saddle, still chuckling.
"It's good to see you too, Methos," said Gaius.
"I can't believe he made you wait outside in this," Methos replied as he pushed back his the hood. "Your face…" There was the sound of another chuckle being hastily smothered.
"Knowing him, that could well have been the reasoning behind his request."
"Quite possibly. Now what do you say to some assistance in stabling my four footed friend?" Methos gave the horse's neck an affectionate slap.
"You don't need…"
"I know I don't need to help, but if I do we'll *both* be back inside near the fire by the time whatever Blaise is mulling is ready."
"In that case, thank you." Gaius lead the horse toward the lean-to stable that was built against the living rock of the hill, though he suspected the horse could have easily found its own way even in the fog, with Methos a warm presence beside him.
Later, after the supper of warm bannock and mulled cider was just a memory and he had long given up trying to fight his need to sleep, Gaius wasn't sure what woke him; Blaise and Methos weren't exactly shouting at each other and he was used to the sounds of the fire and domesticity. He decided not to move and remained snuggled deep in his nest of blankets, just out of reach of the light from the fire. He opened one eye, Blaise and Methos were little more than firelit silhouettes and did not show any signs of settling down for the night, still deep in conversation. He was about to turn over away from the fire and try to get back to sleep again when his ears caught his name out of the murmured words. He was instantly wide awake and listening for all he was worth.
"You could always send him to Pergamon."
"And follow in the footsteps of Galen?"
"Why not?"
There was a pause, as if Blaise was seriously considering it for a moment. Gaius felt his heart beat faster at the thought. Pergamon! He was sure it was probably not as great as it once had been, but still, a great centre of healing like that would offer so many opportunities to learn. Then of course from there Epidauros wasn't so great a distance… Gaius allowed himself to dream for an instant...
"It's ridiculous, Methos, that's why not. It isn't exactly an easy place to reach, especially if you don't have our… advantages."
"Which Gaius most certainly doesn't." There was a sigh, as if Methos was almost distressed by that fact. Gaius was personally very relieved; he found immortality fascinating as a concept, but he didn't want to *be* immortal, that would be too much like a sort of living hell in his opinion, though he had to admit Methos seemed happy enough. However, Methos didn't have The Sight which seemed to be more of a curse to Blaise than a blessing at times, and to *never* be able to escape it… Gaius shuddered.
"No, he's lucky," Baise said, echoing Gaius' thoughts; he sounded tired and Gaius chewed his lip with concern, debating on the merits of giving up his deception and attending his master or remaining where he was and possibly learning more. The pursuit of knowledge won, as it did more often than not.
The light shifted and brightened as one of the figures beside the fire bent to poke some more life into it.
"So maybe Pergamon is a little too far afield, but you can't deny that Gaius would benefit from further teaching."
"Of course I'm not going to deny it, I can barely stay one step ahead of him at times; he has a mind like a sponge."
"You've done well by him, Blaise."
"I hope so; he's almost like the son I can never have."
"Almost?" There was a shuffling sound, and the light dimmed slightly, enough for Gaius to risk peeking out of his enshrouding blankets; there was now only one dark shape bulking large before the fire, he could no longer tell Methos and Blaise apart.
"Methos…"
"So, if Pergamon is too far how about somewhere a bit closer to home? What about the Isle of the Priestesses."
"Ynys Avallach? I already thought of that."
"And?"
"They could only teach him so much, so we came back here."
"Could or would?"
"It's one and the same to most of the Priestesses, no matter what the Lady herself might think."
There was pop from the fire and the light brightened as new flames licked up. The dull crackle was the only sound until Gaius became aware of Blaise's increasingly rapid breathing. He moved, a hairsbreadth away from throwing off the blankets and stumbling over to the fire to his master, until he reminded himself that Methos probably had way more experience of dealing with Blaise in the throes of a vision than he could ever hope to gain in his entire life, then he settled back down into his blanket cocoon.
"What do you see in the fire, my friend?" Methos murmured gently; there was movement in the shadows, a flash of skin as Methos laid his hand on Blaise's shoulder. Gaius held his breath, almost scared to hear the answer.
"Blood and pain, fear and hatred; a people decimated by bitterness and obsession. War. Destruction. And yet, there remains a bright thread of hope."
"There is always hope…"
"… You just have to find it. I remember, though I'm sure it won't be easy for those living whenever this happens to do so." There was the sound of a shuddering sigh from Blaise and Gaius thanked all the gods and goddesses that he hadn't been granted The Sight for about the thousandth time in his short life.
"When?"
"I wish I knew Methos, I wish I knew. Not in the next ten years, but within another lifetime; of that I am certain."
"You're certain? How?" Gaius strained his ears just a little bit more; he well knew how uncertain understanding the timing of foreseen events could be – they could be hours, years or centuries in the future – and though one of the skills Blaise had was in being able to narrow down a time to something a little more specific, Gaius had never heard him declare he was certain.
Blaise said nothing for a moment, the silence punctuated by a weary sigh which chilled Gaius to the bone.
"Gaius," Blaise finally admitted. Within his chest, Gaius' heart plummeted as he wondered if Blaise had seen his death. Methos' sharply indrawn breath indicated that his thoughts might have run along the same lines.
"Dear Gods and Goddesses, he…"
"No, but he is involved somehow. Both the darkness and that bright thread of hope are tangled up with his life in a way I just can't perceive. This isn't the first time I've seen this; Gaius' training wasn't the only reason for our journey to Ynys Avallach."
"Ah," Methos said as he shifted, the light brightening again as he bent. There was the clink of pottery and the slosh of liquid, and then a cup was being passed to Blaise. "So what did the priestesses have to say?" Methos continued, raising his own cup to drink.
"Unsurprisingly little, though the Lady did thank me for the warning and said they would be vigilant. She also bade me take care of Gaius."
"All the more reason to get him away from here and expand his horizons – the more knowledge he has, the better able he'll be to protect himself."
"Don't you think I know that? Do you have any other suggestions? Preferably practical ones."
There was more clinking as the cups were laid aside, then Methos turned to Blaise, his profile highlighted by the flickering light.
"There's always Paris," he said. He sounded almost nonchalant which in Gaius' short experience meant that he was probably up to something.
"Paris? Who or what is in Paris?"
"Darius."
"Darius!? You've finally lost your mind, haven't you? Gaius does not need to learn what Darius could teach; he's a healer not a warrior." There was an odd sounding scrabble but Gaius couldn't tell what was happening. He very much doubted that Blaise would get away with giving Methos one of the semi-affectionate cuffs round the head that he gave Gaius. Then there was a muffled grunt from Methos – maybe Blaise *had* tried.
"You're living in the past, Blaise. Darius is not the same person he was a hundred or so years ago; they say he took a Light Quickening."
"They say? I don't trust 'them' so what about you?"
"He's certainly changed, that much is true. Whether it was because of a Light Quickening or he just decided he'd had enough of his old life after one death too many, I have no idea. It does happen, I should know. Whatever the reason, he's gained quite the reputation as a man of peace and healing, and more importantly for Gaius, he's had dealings with the people of Brocéliande so is no stranger to magic."
"One of my early teachers of magic was from Brocéliande; he said they tended to be a reclusive people." Blaise sounded thoughtful, but not resistant.
"There are exceptions, obviously and Darius always could be charming if he wanted to be. I imagine that Brocéliande would have been a good place to deal with having a major change of heart."
"There is that. Now what is it that you aren't telling me?"
"Nothing about Darius."
"Oh this is like pulling teeth. I can oblige with that if you wish, Gaius could do with the practice." Luckily for Gaius, Methos' laugh drowned out his hastily smothered snort of disbelief.
"There's no need for threats, Blaise, especially not if you're involving Gaius as an accomplice!"
"Then get on with it!"
"Rumour has it…"
"Rumour? Methos…"
"You obviously know how much Gaius is fascinated by immortals."
"I couldn't miss it." Gaius squirmed a little in his blankets; when he'd first learned about immortality and wanted to know more, subtlety hadn't exactly been his strong point even though he'd never breathed a word to another person.
"Well, there are a group of people – mortals – who dedicate themselves to observing immortals and recording their lives as histories. It just so happens, according to rumour, that they have a base in Paris."
"And what do your mortal immortal-observers call themselves?"
"Watchers."
Gaius had to exert a phenomenal amount of willpower to stop himself from leaping out of his bed and demanding to be taken to Paris immediately. Learning from an immortal warrior turned healer had been enticement enough but to discover that there were other people who shared his fascination with immortals was almost more temptation than he could stand. Blaise chuckled; it had a thoughtful sound to it.
"And Gaius has been watching *us* since he first learned about immortality. Paris it is, then."
Gaius stuffed the edge of one of his blankets into his mouth to stop himself from yelling with joy. They were going to Paris!
"I'll send word to Darius," Methos said.
"And the Watchers?"
"They'll find you, never fear. Just let Gaius keep his curious eyes and ears open."
"Like he is doing now?"
"Exactly like he is doing now."
Gaius blinked owlishly up at them when they both turned to look at him, somewhat shamefaced to be caught in his eavesdropping. He should have realised he couldn't hide anything from two immortals, or not these two at least.
"Come to the fire, Gaius, I doubt you'll sleep any more tonight." Gaius had already begun to unwrap himself from his blankets to do just that, then he paused.
"Master Blaise, I…" He'd intended to apologise – though not for the eavesdropping, not when he'd learned so much – but Blaise interrupted him with a smile.
"It doesn't matter, lad. This is your life we've been planning after all, only seems right for you to have a say in it."
"I don't need to have a say; it all sounds wonderful!" Gaius settled one of his blankets around his shoulders and picked his way across the floor to the fire. He didn't care that they were both laughing; he felt like laughing too, the darkness Blaise saw in his future was a long way off and still not certain. He would live his life as Blaise had always encouraged him – to embrace the unknown and learn from it rather than living in fear of what might lie unseen in the shadows.