Notes: Because you asked, but not
quite what you asked for, I know. I’m just that way. I started this
with no idea that it would end the way it did. Perhaps the song that
inspired this very short piece of fiction made this particular end
inevitable. For now at least.
I hadn’t even intended to write anything to tonight, but the song, my
mood, a few glasses of wine, and Methos, produced the unexpected.
A story in the ‘Emily’ series (till I think of a better name!). The
first two being “Irreconcilable
Differences” and “Seriously”.
Methos doesn’t belong to me – but oh, if he did! Where was I? Oh yeah…
Methos doesn’t belong to me, but Emily does. The usual.
The Tragedy That We Knew
As The End
by Ithildin
c. 2006
“It’s not fair,” she sighed as his lips caressed her throat. “I’m
exhausted, can’t think straight, and you’re taking advantage.” She
didn’t sound too put out despite her half-hearted objections.
“I never play fair,” he reminded her in a soft whisper that set her
heart racing, his teeth tugging gently at the lobe of her ear. Reaching
behind him, he locked the door to the on call room.
Emily pulled his head down, kissing him languorously, before pulling
back a little to murmur, “We’re divorced.”
“Not yet, we aren’t.”
“You sound like Derek,” she said, distracted by the feel of his hands
on her body. Closing her eyes, Emily tried to reign in the feelings
that were threatening to overwhelm what was left of her common sense.
At 2 a.m. and after ten hours of surgery, exhausted, she had no
defenses left against her husband’s calculated assault. “It’s not
fair,” she whispered again, relenting, pulling him closer.
Gently but inexorably, Methos pushed her back, hands and lips never
resting, pressing the advantage he knew he had. “You keep saying that.”
He sounded amused.
“Shut up.” Her legs hit the edge of the cot. “I hate you.”
“So you told me – on our first date.” Now he was laughing in between
the hungry almost desperate kisses. He pulled off the top of her
scrubs, pushing her down onto the cot. “And frequently over the last
thirteen years,” he reminded her.
Emily didn’t care anymore. She didn’t have the willpower to stop what
was happening. In the months since he’d arrived at Seattle Grace, she’d
done her best to excise him from her life – and had failed miserably.
Inch by inch, he’d worked his way through her defenses, despite her
best efforts. Maybe this was inevitable. Methos was the one touchstone
in a life that had become unreal in its complexity, no matter how much
she hated herself for having to admit that.
“You didn’t listen to me then; why should now be any different?” she
asked huskily, tangling her fingers in his hair, inhaling his familiar
scent. How could she still love him so desperately after everything
that had happened? Emily submitted – to him and to herself. She’d pay
for this later, but later seemed so far away.
Methos held her face between his hands, looking into her eyes with a
hunger that should have scared her. But she was past fear, past anger.
“I can’t let you go, Emily. I know I promised, but I can’t.”
She swallowed, shaking her slightly between his hands. “There’s only
tonight. I can’t promise you anything else.” Closing her eyes, not able
to bear his gaze any longer, she whispered, “Please don’t expect more,
Methos. Let now be enough.”
He was totally still against her, before gently, like silk brushing her
lips, he kissed her. “I can’t.” Pushing away from her, he drew the bed
sheet over her as he stood. “I can’t; because it isn't enough,” he
whispered, as if to himself.
Emily pressed her palms against her eyes, willing herself not to cry as
she heard his footsteps cross the short distance to the door. Then he
was gone and once more, she was alone.
End
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