Methos suggested traveling south but I felt like I needed the familiar surroundings of the Island. Other than occasional muttering at the lack of civilized amenities, he’s been fairly reasonable. At times it surprised me. Methos has one of the sharpest tongues in the known world when he feels stupidity is afoot. Maybe he does understand.

Methos usually sleeps in, at least until the coffee’s made. Often, I ask him along on my morning run, but Methos usually isn’t interested. The only response from under the pile of blankets and furs that’s his barrier against this unseasonably cold morning was an order to put the coffee on before I went out to play in the snow.

I put the perishables and two of the six-pacs in the refrigerator. The soft whirring of the motor is the only sound in the kitchen. I decide to wait and see what he brings back from his wanderings before I worry about dinner. I have a salmon in the fish pen beneath the boat dock. I could bring it in, or we could have the steaks.

The bed is made and the extra bedding neatly folded on the old wooden chest at its foot. Usually Methos just leaves things in a tangle. I found myself grinning slightly at the thought of my unlikely new lover. The friendship between the two of us has been a roller-coaster ride for years. My early enthusiasm about meeting the “Eldest” bordered on awe, but Methos kept insisting that he was-“just a guy”. His intelligence and wit kept me on my toes and frequently drove me up the walls.

The snow was still deep when we arrived. He grumped until I had a roaring fire in the old stone fireplace. A few nights later, the fire went out and I woke up with Methos wrapped around my back, whiskey-scented breath tickling my neck. He said I’d been nightmareing again. He was rubbing my back and one backrub led to another kind of rubbing.

He surprised me again. Oh, not that sex entered the equation. I wasn’t exactly a virgin and I knew damn well he wasn’t. What surprised me was the way he could shift from raunchy, rowdy pounding sex to gentle lovemaking. One minute he was driving me crazy sucking and teasing, humming low around the cock down his throat and the next I was on my back with my legs on his shoulders and shuddering with the power in him as he thrust into me.

Just thinking about it was creating a serious problem that I was sure we could take care of… if the lazy bastard would hurry up and get back.

It’s getting late, red and gold streaking the bases of some serious rain clouds as the sun goes down. He hates the cold and I really can’t see him meditating in the rain. I grab one of the battery operated camping lanterns and go out to see if he’s gotten himself tangled in the briars or knocked himself cold on a rock.

It isn’t hard to locate the path he usually takes. I find one of the patches of wild leeks he’s brought back before. I stick a few of them in the pockets of my windbreaker. Potato leek soup is a favorite and he’s going to need warming up if he is stuck somewhere.

There aren’t any fresh signs. He hasn’t been up here for at least a day. I check out the fire pit up near the crest of the hill behind the cabin, but the wind and rain are the only things that have disturbed the ashes.

I’m really starting to get worried. Methos is not above playing some silly version of hide and seek but he can’t hide his Quickening and I can’t feel anything at all.

Could some other Immortal have come in and kidnapped him? Now I sound like somebody’s mom with a kid not home from school on time. There wasn’t anything on the beach to indicate another boat and seaplanes and helicopters were way too loud. He’d take shelter and be here to give me hell about unexpected visitors.

Nothing… I cover as much as I can of the island until the rain makes the lantern useless. There aren’t any lights on as I come back to my cabin. I was hoping he was off doing something… I light candles and change out of my soaking wet clothes.

The bed has been changed and the sheets are in the dryer. I can get just get a faint whiff of his aftershave in the bathroom. There are clean towels on the rack and none of his shaving gear is left on the back of the toilet. The drawer I cleaned out for him is empty. His backpack is missing.

He’s gone… no clue as to why or where… Had I said something, done something? I went over the morning in my mind but there hadn’t been any words between us. There was suddenly a bone deep ache in my gut. He was gone… Half-heartedly, I call Joe to ask if he’s heard from our mutual friend but he isn’t in. I leave a message.

Methos… Why did you take off? I thought we were doing so well. We were talking more than we ever have before. I’ll wait till I hear from Joe, but I’ll bet you didn’t say anything to him, either.

Will you come back? God, I hope so. It isn’t easy to say, I love you, Methos, but I do. Come back… I’ll be waiting.