---`--,---{@ Sunrise @}---,--`--- by JuliaL Disclaimer: I in no way own or claim to own anything to do with the Highlander universe, in this case the character Methos and the concept of immortality as they present it, so pretty please do not sue me. --------------------------------------------------------------- ***This is my first attempt at fanfic which has actually been posted somewhere. =) Comments, questions, praise, and constructive criticism appreciated. Flames used to roast marshmallows. --------------------------------------------------------------- Methos woke suddenly from his restless doze. Darkness filled the tiny room. From the cramping in his neck he guessed that he had been resting in the same position for almost an hour and a half, and the hard chair was by no means comfortable. Instantly he felt for the sword at his side and was glad for its presence, but there was no buzz, no evidence of another immortal's entrance. Something else must've awoken him. Alexa lay still, quiet, her skin an off-color which showed exactly how close to death she was. Now, only the busy machines, lights blinking, chambers humming softly, kept her clinging tenaciously to this world. From the far corner of the room came a soft sound, a rattling, gasping intake of breath. For a split second, Methos tightened his grip around the handle of his sword, but he forced himself to release it. Undoubtedly it was the same sound that had awakened him. He could not see anyone, but the sound seemed to indicate a young girl, and a very sick one at that. He was in the intensive care ward of a hospital… "Who's there?" Methos asked softly, trying not to echo in the small space. He stood, now guarding at the foot of Alexa's hospital bed. Through the window, watery moonlight lent a small amount of illumination to the room. As if rising from a pool of blackness, a small figure appeared from the shadows next to the partially opened door. "I'm Lily." Methos relaxed, letting his breath decrease to a less rapid rate. It was little wonder that she had been able to slip into the room nearly unnoticed. She was skin and bone thin, huge dark circles showing blue and purple on ivory-hued flesh. Her wrists looked as if they would snap with the slightest movement. A dark blue or black bandana covered her head; he knew without looking that there was no hair underneath it. A thin, flexible tube ran from one nostril, beneath tape on her cheek, and behind her ear. Her saw the tissue-like hospital gown and the way it refused to touch her body, she was so terribly thin… "Are you lost? I can get somebody…" Methos heard himself ask this small intruder. She shook her head, and put a hand against the wall as she weaved unsteadily. Lily made that same rattling, choking noise, and her chest labored with the intake of breath. The oldest living immortal felt his chest ache with unexpected sympathy. He advanced a few steps, ready to help her or even carry her back to her room. There wasn't any obvious reason for her to be lurking about the corridors. She held up a hand, a hand in which the entire bone structure was clearly visible. He stopped, and she gasped a few more times. Finally, Lily swallowed and nodded toward him. "They said I would find you here, Methos." She wheezed again, but he was frozen to the spot. There should be no way that this strange girl would know where he was and that he was who he was. At most, those who knew the entire truth could be counted off on one hand. How then… "I think," Some small syllable caught in her throat, and Lily coughed and sputtered, taking a few eternal moments to get her breath back again. Methos winced with the obvious pain it caused her; there was no denying that she was truly ill, and not acting the part. Someone had sent her, obviously; most likely someone who'd like to see him about a head shorter, but as he could still feel no buzz, he did not bolt from the room. Alexa must be protected… He shook his head in the same instant that Lily sagged against the wall for support. A small tinge of sorrow entered his consciousness. She couldn't be more than fifteen, sixteen at most… What could she have done, have been, if she would not die so very soon? The mortal way it was, till the end of eternity. "I think I have something you… you lost," she said in a whisper. One hand, which had been up to this point hidden behind her back, was brought into view. A small pouch, soft gray in the dim light, dangled from her fragile fingers. Methos knew instantly what it must be, and felt his heart leap from chest to throat in a sudden strangled beat. "You still have the other piece…" The way she said it could have been either question or statement. Her chest heaved, and Methos reached out to sturdy her. This time, instead of drawing away, she nearly collapsed against him. Exhaustion, hers at the disease that coursed through her body, his, the pressure of millennia lived and yet to live, poured through the contact. "These belong to you," she insisted, and pushed the small sack into his hand. Each piece of the stone could be felt through the soft cloth. Lily smiled slightly, serenely, and for the first time he saw that her eyes were a warm, ruddy brown, not in the least bit dulled by the constant pain. "I don't know how I could possibly thank you," Methos whispered, meaning it with an honesty he rarely permitted to surface. She smiled in the soft light. "I've got a few more days, a week, they say, at best." Lily's chest rattled with labored breathing. "I'm dying of cancer, Methos…" There was so much more he wanted to know: how under the sun did she know his name, first of all, and how she had found him, or come to be at this same hospital. How on Earth had she dredged this small stone from the bottom of a river… "Live." Lily commanded with a fierceness which left a knot deep in his stomach and brought his attention back to her with a snap. "Live another five thousand years and never forget me. Never forget my name, never forget my face, never forget that I was!" Over sunken cheeks tears rolled ever downwards to the force of insistent gravity. Lily looked up into his face, and he saw them. "For that will be my only Immortality." The whispered words struck something deep. It was not truly fair either way… to die, to live… For some, living brought more in a handful of years than it had to others in thousands. Her voice held wistfulness and regret, a longing, and a resignation to what she knew herself to be. But she was strong, and proud, and at once innocent and wiser than he ever wished to be… The hand that clutched at his sleeve went suddenly lax, and what had been the barest feather's weight in his arms was heavier. Eyes rolled back, skin turned ashen… Shout! Get help! Nurses called…Doctors… He saw her wheeled into a different room… Too much sound, too much noise… Everything as a blur he saw… And then it was quiet. Too quiet. Nothing more they could do… The doctors and the nurses turned away from the room. They were alone there now… Mechanical green line to mark her heartbeat…flat. Dead. Tears in his eyes? Methos stood at the doorway, watching over the girl's body. Time passed, but he had no knowledge of it going. At last, there was a hand on his shoulder. Questions asked and answered. He headed back for Alexa's room. The sun was coming up. Beautiful roses and dusky pale oranges and the midnight blue of butterfly wings painted the canvas of the morning sky. Old in years he might be, but this day he allowed it to be spectacular, and the sight was truly amazing to behold. Alexa's eyes fluttered open, weakly, and she nudged at the hand so near to hers. Methos held it, and turned to look at her. "I have a gift for you…" The End