The Glitter Jungle:
Fiction:
Whistle While You Work
Comes a Horseman. Kronos, Methos.
"It's alright," he hummed to himself while dragging the body into the trunk of his car, arranging it there with the knife still embedded deep in its heart, "baby's coming back, and I don't really care where he's been."
He hadn't heard this song since the 1980's when he was sitting alone in his lab putting the last finishing touches on his virus.
"It's alright, baby's coming back..." he was on his way back home, but he could almost feel the presence of the body in the car, "and I won't turn him around this time, no, no..."
On the platform, he leaned back and watched Methos, waiting for him to wake up.
"I'll be your cliff... you can fall down from me," Kronos whispered, eyes travelling on the beloved face, slack in death as if in sleep. "I'll be your ledge..." He sighed.
"You can lean upon me, brother." Someone had dared to fight back in one of their raids. Had raised a sword to them. They'd torched his entire village in retribution, of course, but Methos' leg took time to heal and still hurt when he dismounted his horse after they'd arrived back to their camp. Kronos had supported him then, half carried his brother back to the tent. He personally had hacked the villager into six pieces, limbs, torso, head. No one would raise a blade to Methos but him.
"You can still depend on me, and I'll be..."
Kronos caressed Methos' hair, smiled, and pulled the knife out.
"Your grace, your dignity..."
When Methos would wake, Kronos would offer him... would *tell* him, that they are going to ride again. Figuratively, if not literally. No mind was greater than Methos'.
"And I'll be your night, your destiny..." he noticed he was still humming the song distractedly. Seems he knew all the words, or most. He always had a good memory. He remembered events, lyrics, numbers. More importantly, he remembered emotions, and people, and how to work them.
"And I'll be, your comfort and your ease..."
Methos was their leader. He was the one with the plan, he was the most ruthless of all four of them. Kronos was only 300 years old and Methos was well over a thousand when they had started riding, and Methos rarely let the younger Immortal out of his sight.
"I will be. Your storm at seas!" Kronos nearly choked on that line.
Riding by Methos' side for the raids, knowing they think that he and the two others are fearsome warriors, but that Methos was Death itself. Staying in his own tent, waiting for every opportunity to slip into Methos' tent and be there, hoping he could absorb something of him, somehow, just by being close.
And now he was close again, and he knew this time around they could really - ride. The global village was at their fingertips, and terrorising large masses of people was sure to be more gratifying than slaying a dozen backward farmers. With Methos by his side, it would be just like the old days - but so much better.
Kronos leaned over the still body to whisper in his ear, over his eyes, breath ghosting across skin still warm.
"And I'll be your sharp intake of breath," he sang it like an incantation, like a shaman prayer. "And I'll be your work, I'll take no rest," like a promise, maybe a threat. "And when the world falls to decline," with conviction, with fire, "I'll be yours and you'll be mine!" Each word a pledge, affirming the pact they had so long ago and will have again, just as soon as Methos woke up. He wouldn't refuse Kronos. There was no doubt about it.
"It's alright - baby's coming back," Kronos was nodding to himself in self satisfaction. Trying not to think about Macleod. About how different Methos' life was. Quite a little act he had going here, leading them all to believe he was a quiet, mild mannered watcher slash immortal who had put down his sword for good. "...And I don't really care where he's been, no."
"Make it easy on yourself tonight, Methos," Kronos breathed.
Methos woke with a gasp.
Info:
Yes, it's a song fic. Eurythmics.