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Joe gave the oak door a gentle push closed, and wiped a damp palm on his sweater front. The little stone nave was empty except for a slumped man in the front row of wooden folding seats. He’d sort of expected Adam to be dressed in black and wearing a cape—- something melodramatic, like Mac would have done. Adam wore a hockey jersey and a pair of truly hideous red jeans that Don had bought him for a Christmas five years back.
Joe made the trek to the head of the nave, making no attempt to muffle the noise he made walking. Adam had plenty of time to sit up and leave, if he wanted to. Still, having made the choice available, Joe was gratified that Adam didn’t leave. He did sit up and rub at the back of his neck.
'Hey,' he said, as Joe came to a stop at his row.
'Hey yourself.' Joe glanced around without much interest. It was a church like any other church you could find in Paris and the surroundings. Grey, grey, and dusty grey. 'Didn’t really think this was your scene,' he offered. 'You don’t strike me as the God-fearing type.'
'Wanted to clear my head.'
'Yeah. I can understand how you might need to do that.'
Adam finally looked at him. He’d always been skinny, but he looked positively pinched now, like a cancer victim being eaten from the inside. The nose was like the prow of a ship, jutting out from his face full-steam ahead.
'I guess Mac filled you in,' the Immortal ventured a little uneasily.
'He ain’t exactly good with a secret.'
'Yeah.' Adam snorted into his chest. 'It’s a wonder he ever thought he could spy on the Germans.'
'Ah, give the guy credit. At least he gave it up a few weeks in.'
That won him a small smile. Adam heaved a sigh, and stuck his hands into the pockets of his coat, crossing the halves over his chest in a familiar gesture that struck Joe as oddly poignant.
'Joe, I’m—-'
'You don’t owe me an apology.'
'...Yeah.'
Joe sank awkwardly into one of the little wooden chairs, not quite saving himself the hard landing at the end. 'I know this isn’t what you want to think about just now, but I wanted to ask you before I made a decision.'
'Put it in the Chronicle.'
He paused. 'You sure about that?'
'It’s my past. And now it’s thoroughly dead, there’s not much more point to running from it.'
He accepted that. 'That’s fine for Methos. Now tell me about Adam Pierson.'
The expression on Adam’s face, if it was an expression, grew pained. For a long time Adam didn’t answer, and Joe prepared to let it go. He was surprised at the reply when it finally came.
'I think it’s better if I resign.'
'I don’t think you really get to, buddy.'
'Inactive status, then. Before MacLeod—- before MacLeod...' He trailed off, apparently lost in thought. He resumed abruptly. 'I could believe in the mission of the Watchers and have my secrets. There was no conflict. I don’t know how he changed that, but he did.'
'I know more about that than you might think.' MacLeod wasn’t one for both sides of an issue. There was one side, and it was his, and it was tough shit for the guy who was used to thinking different. Yeah, Joe knew quite a lot about that habit of Mac’s.
'Can I ask you a personal question?' Joe ventured.
Adam looked at him again, this time with faint surprise on his face. Was it really true that Immortals didn’t age? Because Adam looked every one of his five thousand years, and Joe had never seen that before.
'Anything,' Adam said simply.
That gave him a moment. A guy could wonder what made another man say that to you, knowing how deep and dark his own closets were. Joe wondered if he could have made the same offer quite so easily.
He did his best to match willingness with honesty. 'You never told Mac that Kronos was your student. Why?'
'My student?' Now Adam was staring at him. 'Where did you get that idea?'
'A little something I pieced together. Come on. You really think it wouldn’t have made a difference?'
Adam subsided at that, resuming his slouch with a little burst of vigour. 'Yeah. I thought of it, I suppose. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Maybe it would have made a difference—- and maybe it shouldn’t have.'
'What happened to him?'
'To Kronos?' Adam shrugged. 'What makes you think he wasn’t put on Earth to be exactly what he was? The world needs its plagues and killers. At least he enjoyed his work.'
'Don’t push me, kid. I’m trying to understand, here.'
'That’s the thing, Joe. There’s nothing to understand. I don’t know if he was ever really any different. I’d like to think he was, that I saw something special and good that I wanted to shape. Maybe I messed it up or it wasn’t there to begin with. The time came when we stopped being mentor and student, and started playing cat and mouse. He won. He won in the worst way. I hated him so much I could have strangled on it, and I loved him so hard I couldn’t imagine a life without him in it.' Adam sunk his chin to his chest and glared at the altar not three yards away. 'Jesus. You know the worst irony of it all? He was about as threatening as a kid with a bee-bee gun.'
Joe let out a breath from way down in his gut. 'I wondered if you could see that.'
Adam laughed, an ugly sound full of self-loathing. 'It probably took longer than it ought to have. Fuck MacLeod. Who needs a fucking bull in a china shop? Especially when that china shop is my god-damned life.' He pushed to his feet and began to pace haltingly. 'It was all so childish. Secret hiding places, blood oaths, even kidnapping Cassandra just to settle a thousand year old grudge. The evil in him had just... faded. I could look at him and imagine him dead for the first time in millennia. He’d never learnt how to change with time.'
'Then why did you draw Mac into it?' Joe asked.
Adam stopped moving, and turned to him. His expression was remote, but tinged with grief. 'Because he was mine. Because you can love even a broken child, if he’s yours.'
Joe only nodded. A moment later, sensing a natural stopping point, he levered himself to his feet to go. They might have talked longer, but everything they’d come here to say had been said. The rest, if there was any, would happen later, maybe a little at a time, here and there.
'Joe,' Adam called, just before his hand touched the door.
Joe swiveled to look. 'Yeah, Adam?'
The young-looking man he’d known for nearly ten years looked at him from across the church, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched a little—- Joe had always thought that Adam slumped so that Don would look taller. It had said something about Adam that he’d liked.
'I am sorry,' Adam said, almost too softly to hear. 'I should have told you.'
Joe sighed gently. 'Yeah,' he admitted. 'You should have.' He quirked his mouth in a little smile. 'Why don’t you come over for dinner tomorrow, okay? I could use the company.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes,' Joe answered. 'I am.'