To Say Goodbye

After seeing 'Archangel' I decided to write this story in memory of Richie Ryan. I cried while writing it, and I hope it effects you also. "To say Goodbye" By Methos S. Macleod It is 2:30 am, Monday. Joe Dawson should've left his blue's bar and gone home long ago, but he didn't. Instead he's sitting on the small, dimly lit stage with his guitar, playing every song he knows, trying to escape the sadness. But the sadness won't leave. It had been like this ever since he returned from Paris....After the funeral.
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Methos should've gone to bed long ago. Instead he is staring at the screen of his computer in his Paris apartment. He wished he didn't have to be inconvienienced by this, but MacLeod was his friend, and he owed him one. Methos had tried to talk to Duncan, but the Highlander had refused to listen. So Methos had to find someone who MacLeod would listen to. Methos sighed as he searched the Watcher data banks for Connor MacLeod.
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Duncan MacLeod should have gone to bed days ago, but he didn't. He didn't do a lot of things. Didn't eat, didn't drink, didn't shave. His long hair was gone now; he had chopped it off in mourning as the Native Americans had done. MacLeod had lived with the Sioux for a time, and knew their customs. Duncan heard the "buzz" that meant the presence of another immortal, but he didn't reach for his sword. He figured it was Amanda, she had been trying to get in all day, and if it wasn't, he didn't care. Didn't care if he lost his head. "Duncan, let me in," pleaded the female immortal while banging on the barge door. Amanda could have easily picked the lock, as she had once been a master thief. But she knew it would do no good to force help upon her friend, he had to want it. There was no response from MacLeod, though he had heard Amanda. Amanda sank to the floor and leaned her head againd=st the door. She would wait for him. He had helped her many times, and she wasn't about to turn her back on him when he needed her help.
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Meanwhile, in the apartment of Adam Pierson, Methos had found what he was looking for. He printed out a copy of the location and a picture of Connor MacLeod, Duncan's teacher. He folded the paper and placed it in his jeans pocket. The immortal Watcher then slipped on his trench coat, and reached for his sword laying on the bed. "Never leave home without it," he thought as he stepped out the door.
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Connor MacLeod lounged on the couch in the house belonging to Russel Nash. Nash was actually one of MacLeod's many aliases. He had been many things in his years. The elder Highlander picked up his sword and began to polish it as he thought about his younger kinsman, Duncan. As he ran the cloth methodically up and down the blade, he remembered the last time he had seen his student. Duncan had been living in an antique store with his girlfriend, Tessa, where Connor had tracked Slan. Tessa had asked him if she would see him again, to which he replied that he hoped so. Now the answer was no because Tessa was dead. He knew what Duncan must've felt like upon her death. He had felt that way many times before. Most recently with Brenda, and long ago with Heather. What Connor didn't know was that Duncan's student was now also dead. Connor's thoughts were interupted when he felt the presence of another immortal. His hand traveled from the blade of his Japanese Katana to the hilt. His fingers gripped the dragon head as he answered the knock at the door. He opened the door to see a tall man who sounded English when he spoke. "Connor MacLeod?" he questioned. "I am," answered Connor," Are you here for me?" "I'm a friend of Duncan's," Methos assured him. " In that case, come in," said Connor, stepping aside to let the taller man pass." Any friend of Duncan's is a friend of mine." After introductions, Connor and Methos sat at the kitchen table. "Would you like a deink, Adam?" Connor asked. Methos had introduced himself as Adam Pierson, he might tell him, but not yet. "I'll have a beer, thanks," Methos answered politely. Connor broight in the beer and a single-malt whiskey for himself. "Slainte," Methos said. "You know Gaelic," Connor observed, recognizing the word for 'cheers'. "Just hoe old are you?" Methos shrugged, and Connor saw that he was not comfortable with the subject of age, so he changed it. "What brings you here?" "Duncan needs you," and wth that, Methos relayed the story of the millenium evil, and how Richie was beheaded at Duncan's hands. "Let's go then," said Connor, putting on his trench coat.
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"Seacouver Airlines," said the receptionist when she answered the phone. "Can I help you?" "When is the next flight to Paris?" questioned the caller. "A seat just vacated on a flight that leaves in three hours," said the woman. "I'll take it," said the man. "Your name sir?" she asked. "Joe Dawson."
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Joe arrived in Paris the next day and went straight to MacLeod's barge. There he found Amanda leaning against the door asleep. He shook her gently awake. "Hi Joe," she said drowsily. "Hi Amanda," he said, "any luck with MacLeod?" When she shook her head no, he went on. "Don't worry, reinforcements are on the way. Just before I left, Adam called to say he was on his way with Connor MacLeod. "Methos," said Amanda, correcting Joe. "And the legendary Connor MacLeod? Is he anything like Duncan?" "He was his teacher," replied Joe. "I hope he can help, Joe," she said, barely audible. "Me too Amanda, me too."
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Inside the barge, Duncan had finally given in to sleep. But his rest was not a peaceful one. His dreams were filled with Richie, and he woke up and began to cry. "That's a good sign," said Amanda upon hearing him. He hasn't cried since it happened. It meaning that horrid night when Duncan had accidently cut off Richie's head, thinking he was another demon.
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Methos arrived with Connor MacLeod shortly there after. When Connor heard Duncan crying, he wanted to break dopwn the barge doorr, and get in there to help, but he decided against it. "Duncan," he called softly," Bonnie Duncan?" " Connor, what are you doing here," shouted Duncan, his voice thick with tears. "Let me in, Duncan, and I'll tell you," persuaded Connor. Connor was the only family Duncan had in the world, and he desperatley wanted to see him. "Okay," he said, unlocking the door."You can come in. Oh Connor, you don't know what happened," he said when Connor entered, and the door was once again shut. "Actually I do," he said," Your friend Adam told me. They care about you, your friends." "Adam?" Duncan said, for a moment forgetting Methos' alias. "Oh, yes, Adam," he said remembering. Oh Connor, I feel like dying." "By doing that you'd be dishonoring Richie," Connor said firmly. "How's that?" questioned Duncan. "Close your eyes Duncan, tell me what you see." "Richie," Duncan said sorrowfully. "That's right," replied Connor," Because he lives in you. If you die, Richie will be gone from this world." "I didn't know it was him," mumbled Duncan. "I know that," said Connor," And so does Richie. Richie knew in the end, there'd be only one. And who do you think he would want it to be, if he died?" Duncan didn't reply, but nodded his head in understanding. Connor was a wise man." You know what needs done," said Connor. "Yes, I know. I need to say goodbye," said Duncan tearfully.
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The next day, Duncan traveled to the cemetary, and layed flowers on Richie's grave. "Oh Richie," he said," I hope you forgive me, because I don't think I can ever forgive myself. I will try to live up to your expectations, and I will remember you forever. Forever Richie. I swear to you, you will not be forgotten. I loved you like a brother," he said stepping away from the grave." And I will for all time."

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