Chapter 17
"What do you mean we aren't going to Athens?" Daniel asked as they were loading the wagon.
"Megara is closer and it'll be just as easy to find a ship there, if not easier," Methos told him brusquely. "Athenians aren't always welcome on the islands. The Megarans tend to be a lot friendlier with their neighbors."
"But it's Athens!" Daniel exclaimed. "At a time when-"
"When it's still a backwater fishing port just like any other," Methos finished disgustedly.
"That's not the point," Daniel retorted.
"No," Methos agreed. "The point is I don't want to go to Athens."
Daniel stared at him owlishly. Methos had let him keep his glasses, but since he'd also had two pairs of contacts in his pack, Methos had insisted he wear those in public.
"I thought you said the Horsemen were in Anatolia?" Daniel said quietly.
"They are," Methos sighed. "And this has nothing to do with them," he explained, pausing as he started to lift one of the beds up and Daniel made no move to help him. "It's just..." he shrugged, looking off into the distance. "I'm not ready to go back to Athens. Not yet. Not in any age."
"You want to talk about it?" Daniel asked, growing concerned.
"Not really," Methos admitted. "Suffice to say there was a woman. Alexa. She loved Athens and I loved seeing it again through her eyes. And then she died. So, you'll forgive me if I'm not eager to revisit that memory."
"I'm sorry," Daniel nodded slowly. "You're right. We should go to Megara. It's closer."
Methos gave him a grateful smile as the front door opened.
"That's the last of it," Carter said, putting down an armload of linens. "Except for the stuff we need every day."
"Good," Methos told her. "I can load the donkey in the morning."
"Daniel," Carter said. "The colonel wants to see you as soon as you're finished here."
Daniel nodded as she went back inside. Methos shrugged. "Just help me with the bed and I'll get the rest," he offered. Most of the heavy work was done anyway and Methos wanted everything loaded where he could get at it when needed. They'd all been very surprised when he'd told them to empty the cabin of everything that wasn't nailed in place. But that was all part of his plan he'd explained and they'd know everything come morning.
When it was all done to his satisfaction Methos went down to check on the animals and see that they were fed, watered and bedded down for the night, then stopped by the stream to wash. By the time he returned to camp night was falling and he suddenly realized he hadn't seen any of the others for quite some time. He opened the door to find them all huddled around the hearth. O'Neill rose first, blocking his view of whatever they'd been looking at.
"Where the hell have you been?!" he demanded.
"Well, Mom, Johnny asked me to come by his place for a game of catch, then Billy's dad took us for ice cream. Where the hell do you think I've been?" he asked sarcastically. "Working hard to save your ass!"
"And because of that," O'Neill told him sharply. "I have to do this!"
He stepped away from the others who suddenly moved back to reveal one of the finest bows Methos had ever seen, while beside it lay a quiver of arrows. His lips parted in surprise and he inhaled deeply as he knelt to examine their gift.
"This is really nice!" he exclaimed testing the bow which had been made from a length of ash wood and polished to perfection. The arrows were light and tipped with new iron heads which O'Neill must have secretly purchased in Delphi. The fletchings were made of dyed feathers and arranged in a pattern he'd never seen. While the quiver itself was a masterpiece of workmanship. Deer skin stretched around wood and tooled in a running border of leaves individually dyed green with a hunting scene in the center.
"Teal'c did all the carving," Daniel told him. "Carter redesigned the bow and did the fletching, so these arrows should be more aerodynamic than you might be used to. I just helped draw the hunting scene."
"The rest," Carter added. "Was Colonel O'Neill's project."
Methos turned wide eyes to Jack, who stood there frowning. "You did this?" he asked, holding up the quiver.
"Okay, so I took a couple of art classes in college," O'Neill huffed defensively. "Sue me!"
Methos swallowed hard, looking from one friendly face to another not quite sure what to say that would accurately express how he was feeling. No friend had ever gone to this much trouble to hand make him so special a gift. The amount of time each facet of its preparation must have taken was also telling. Off time was precious to soldiers, and from what he saw here they'd spent at least a good portion of theirs thinking of him. And everything was so beautifully crafted. More importantly, each one of them had used some area of their expertise to create it. In truth, he would have been satisfied with a decent bow and a serviceable quiver with a few sharply whittled arrows.
"I think he's speechless," Daniel commented.
"It's about time," O'Neill muttered. "You'd think somebody stuck a key in his back and wound him up too tight."
Methos bowed his head, laughing softly. "Thank you," he finally said, looking from one to the other. "It's a beautiful gift. I'll keep it always."
"And he means always," O'Neill nodded thoughtfully. "Which in itself is very cool."
The others were smiling as they thought about that. Something they'd made would be seen and treasured for lifetimes to come. A little slice of immortality they themselves could own.
"So," O'Neill asked, daintily lifting the hem of his chiton and taking a seat on the edge of the hearth. "We gonna eat or what?"
For the rest of the evening they shared a lively meal interspersed with stories of home, friends and family. They laughed a lot and generally ignored the fact that there might be danger ahead. It was the only way to deal with it. To hope like hell that they could manage to make their way to Egypt and successfully accomplish their mission. As for Methos, he silently vowed that even if they failed, he would make sure his friends spent the rest of their lives in splendid comfort and safety.
Go to next part.