Notes & Disclaimers: This one is set at Christmas 2053 at the
WWIII. Methos isn’t mine, Triona is, apologies to Monty Python
various shrubbery related jokes. No swallows were hurt in the creation
of this fic – African or European.
The Silent Stars Go
c. Dec. 2006
“Please come back to bed.”
“I will in a minute.”
More than a minute passed, but with no sign Methos was going to do as
he said. He continued to stand, naked, looking out one of the deep
window embrasures on the far side of the bedroom.
“For god’s sake, Methos! While it’s not that I don’t appreciate the
view, --” and she truly did. He had a beautiful body, and here in the
dim pre-dawn light, his lean frame and well-defined muscles made him
seem like a marble sculpture come to life. She never tired of just
watching him. “-- I’m getting cold just looking at you!” Triona pulled
the quilts on the bed around her just a little tighter, shivering,
regardless of their warmth, in the cold air. He glanced back,
flashing her a quick amused smile before turning back to his
contemplation of… whatever it was.
Sighing, she finally asked, “What is it?”
“Ooh, you’re such a funny guy.” Grumbling to herself over the
stubbornness of men in general, and really old Immortals in particular,
she rolled out of bed, taking a comforter with her. Cocooned in down,
she hissed as her bare feet hit the frigid floor, the carpet covering
it doing very little insulate her feet from the cold that seeped up
from the stones underneath.
Scurrying over to Methos, she stood on the edge of the comforter,
enfolding him in her arms and the bed cover. “You’re cold,” she
complained as she pressed against his back, laying her cheek against
“Not from where I’m standing.” His soft chuckle vibrated against her as
he turned in her arms, pulling her firmly against him. Leaning down to
take her lips with his, he murmured, “Not cold at all.”
He kissed her slowly, with no urgency, his cool fingertips running up
and down across her back, leaving a path that was almost like little
sparks of electricity in their wake. Okay, maybe he had a point. She
was definitely not feeling quite so cold anymore.
Pressing his lips against each of her closed eyes in turn, he
whispered, “Is there a reason we’re standing out here in the cold when
we could be in our nice warm bed?” His voice was practically awash with
Eyes snapping open, she gave him a look. “You are so dead. You know
that, right?” Triona declared firmly, before shrieking as he
unexpectedly scooped her into his arms, carrying her back to the bed,
his eyes dancing with merriment.
“No, I’m not,” he said unconcernedly.
“Awfully confident, aren’t you?” she asked with a quirk of her brow as
he laid her down.
“Always,” he replied as he crawled in next to her, pulling the covers
over them both. “But in this case, --“ he drew her closer, his hands
beginning to caress her, “-- I think I’m fairly safe.”
“Oh yeah?” she managed to get out between a gasp as his fingers found
just the right spot.
“Yeah.” He smirked. “Unless you’re into necrophilia.” Pausing, he
looked down at her. “You aren’t, are you?” he asked, looking terribly
Several replies battled for preeminence, but she finally settled on an
exasperated, “I give up!”
“Always the correct answer,” he told her, a smug smile plastered across
Rolling her eyes in fond irritation, she kissed him, and then said,
“You’re just damn lucky you’re good in bed, or I’d so be turning you in
for a newer model.”
He traced a thumb across her lips. “I’ll do my best not to become
obsolete.” His lips replaced his thumb, as he set about proving it.
"Do I get a hint?" Triona asked some time later, fiddling absently with
his hair. "Why you were looking so intently out into the night," she
"I was thinking about another Christmas, another time," he told her,
his hand coming around her wrist, stilling the hand that was still
intent on mussing with his hair, pulling it gently down against his
"Ah… something exciting, no doubt; wife, lover, concubine?
Followed by some sort of adventure or amusing escapade." Dropping a
kiss on the tip of his nose, she grinned. "Never a dull moment where
you're concerned, my love."
Methos shook his head slightly, pausing momentarily before saying,
"Wife, actually; but no amusing escapade. Okay, not amusing to her,
though I found it pretty funny at the time. However, my
self-preservation instincts being excellent, I made sure she never knew
it. Kitchen knives can be a menace!"
After shuddering dramatically, he continued over her giggles, "It was
our first Christmas after we married, and she had a an emergency at
work. I promised I'd get the turkey out of the oven, which I did, quite
expertly, I might add." He sounded quite pleased with his
Recognition dawned in her eyes. "I think I've heard this story before,"
she said softly, laying her head against his shoulder.
"But I got a little distracted by a book I was translating, and forgot
to make sure the kitchen door was secure. Our dogs had a lovely
Peering up at him, she said a little uncertainly, "That's what you were
thinking about? I guess I just assumed…"
"Yes, obviously," he interrupted. "I should probably scold you." His
voice was stern, but the arms he wrapped her in as he pulled her close
belied his tone. Now the tone softened. "Do you always assume that my
thoughts are elsewhere? That our past, our present, isn't as important
to me as any of hundreds of other pasts behind me?"
"Honestly? I don't know. Maybe I do, assume that is."
"I guess." She sounded doubtful, which didn't go unnoticed.
"You guess?" Sitting up, he looked down at her. "This keeps up, and
someone's not going to get their present from Santa," he warned.
"Sorry?" Biting at her lower lip, she looked at him sidelong, gauging
how her sort of apology had gone over. Rushing on, she asked, "Santa
got me a present?"
"He did, but I'm not entirely sure you deserve it now." He got out of
bed, this time pulling on his robe. "In fact, I'm sure of it." Walking
over to the fireplace, he put some more wood on the fire.
"Oh come on, Methos! Don't tease." Pouting, she crossed her arms over
her chest. "You're just being mean!"
"Yes, I am, and enjoying it quite thoroughly at that," he told her with
a huge grin.
"Brat!" he returned.
Triona stuck her tongue out at him before beginning to giggle
Methos joined her laughter, and then pointed at the floor next to the
stacked firewood. "Look, there's a present here under the tree."
Looking down at where he was pointing, she saw there was indeed a small
gift-wrapped box sitting there. Then she looked back at Methos. "Tree?
It's a pile of chopped wood, dear."
"Well yes, but what do you get if you put all the chopped wood
"Wait, I know this one!" Triumphantly, she declared, "A boat!" It was
all she could do not to laugh at the expression on his face.
"A boat? No, you silly woman, you get a tree." Methos looked pained.
"No, I'm sure it's a boat. And since boats float, and so do ducks, then
my present must actually be a witch!"
He picked up the brightly wrapped box, waving it at her. "If you think
you're getting this now…"
"It's too small to be a witch, or even a duck," Triona pointed out
helpfully, ignoring his threat.
"No, what it's going to be is a lump of coal, and that's only if you're
Triona tsked. "Now you're just being silly - you can't make a boat out
of coal!" That was when she finally lost it, falling onto the bed in
helpless laughter, tears streaming down her face.
Methos sat next her on the bed. "You are impossible!" Shaking his head
in resignation, he laid back on the pillows, her present still in one
She tried to get a hold of herself, but every time she looked over at
him, she started laughing again. Finally, she was able to get out
between gasps of laughter, 'It's your fault! You should know better by
now than to give me an opening." She wiped her eyes, trying to catch
"Are you quite done?" Methos asked more than a little peevishly. "Or
should I get you a shrubbery? Or perhaps a herring?"
Stuffing a fist between her teeth, she fought back another wave of
mirth. "Please stop!" she begged. "My ribs hurt!"
"It’s only a flesh wound, dearest!" Now he was laughing as well.
"God, I love you!" After kissing him thoroughly, she returned once more
to toying with his hair. "My father was right. He always told me to
never marry a man who didn't appreciate the finer points of Monty
"Wise man, your father." Once again, he snagged her wrist. "You have a
"But I like your hair," she told him. "It's soft and pretty, and I like
"My hairdresser will be so pleased," he said dryly.
Smiling gently, she brushed her lips across his, lying across his chest
and wrapping her arms around him. "That Christmas, when the dogs ate
the turkey, we were just beginning and the future seemed so full of
possibilities." Sighing, she fell silent.
"It will seem that way again, one day, love" he reassured her, gently
stroking her back.
"For making me forget for these few hours that this is the end of the
world. Or, at least, the end of the world I was born into. And for
keeping us safe when so much has been lost forever."
Gently, he rolled her over, so he could look down at her. "I think it's
time you opened your present." Handing her the small box, he brushed a
hand through her long hair.
This time, all she did was nod silently, carefully opening the small
box. "Oh, god, it's beautiful," she whispered, lifting the pendant out
of the box by its chain. The light of the fire reflected off an
abstract platinum star set with diamonds. "Where did you find such a
"It was a group effort. Amanda contributed the diamonds from her super
secret World War III stash." Triona giggled. "And Ted Hopkins, down in
the armory, used to be a jeweler before the war. He helped with the
actual creation of what I wanted."
Taking the necklace from her, he undid the clasp, placing it around her
neck as she held her hair back. "When the war came, you lost the stars.
I know what it meant to you; working on the Mars project, what hope you
had for the future. I can't give you the stars back, but I can give you
something to remind you, that in time, you'll have them again. It might
not be for another few centuries, but it will happen, one day."
Holding the glinting star between her fingers, she whispered, "Above
thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by; yet in thy dark
streets shineth the everlasting Light; the hopes and fears of all the
years are met in thee tonight."