Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable characters you may find in this story. They are owned by richer and more powerful folk, so please don't sue. You'd only get my massive shoe collection and dirty laundry.

A/N: This is just a short story based on a thought I had not too ago. I don't know why I thought about it and the person I was talking to about the idea was a bit taken aback by the odd topic, but it provided a moment of inspiration.

Warning: Sadness, but nothing bad; takes place sometime after the Horsemen episodes.

Methos stood there on a hill watching from afar. The Immortal couldn't believe that they were doing this to an innocent man. He had not committed any crimes, hadn't led an uprising against the Romans, He hadn't killed anyone, had never even spoken a word of ill-will towards anyone. Despite the overwhelming goodness that radiated from His being, the crowd had turned against Him, demanding for his death. They had even chosen Barabbas, a convicted killer and leader of an insurrection in Jerusalem, over Him.

"This is wrong," Methos quietly said to his companion, wrapping his arms around his chest, staring at the scene from afar. His clothes, a simple mantle of dark brown covered a light tan tunic made of linen that reached his ankles and was close fitting to his neck. On his feet were simple shoes drawn together with thongs of leather. His head was uncovered and his hair was long, giving him a slightly sinister appearance for some reason. "Just a week earlier, they were cheering his arrival and now this."

The red-headed woman nodded slowly, grey and blue headdress and robes perfectly still. The wind was completely and eerily still. "Not according to Him. He said once that the temple would be destroyed and in three days it would be rebuilt. We didn't know what he was talking about at the time, but apparently He was the temple that he spoke of, not the building itself. Maybe in three days He will rebuild himself."

After that, they were silent, watching the man hang there between two common criminals, men that probably deserved their fate.

"Did you ever meet him?" Rebecca suddenly asked, her voice hushed, her brown eyes fixated on the figure on the cross.

"Yes," Methos said.


"He knew who and what I was. I didn't tell him, none of his companions know me, and yet, he knew," the three-thousand year old Immortal spoke quietly. "He knew every little, dirty secret, all of the crimes and atrocities that I had committed along with my brothers. Looking at him, seeing the sincere goodness and love that filled him, hurt. I have never been more ashamed of myself than that moment."

"What did he say?" Rebecca asked.

"Not much and most of what He said He told me that was for my ears alone. What He did say that I could repeat was that God always forgives as long as we ask for forgiveness and that we have to forgive ourselves for our human failings. Sometimes our failings are bigger than others," Methos gave his friend a sad smile.

"Do you think you will ever forgive yourself?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe with time," he said. "They really hated Him didn't they? Only the most hated get actually nailed to the cross. Look how the other two are just tied to the wooden beams."

"He has a reason for everything. He is the Messiah and I trust in Him," Rebecca said, her voice low, but full of conviction.

At noon, darkness fell upon the land for three hours and by three o'clock the light was restored and the thick veil hanging in the Temple split apart.

Then Jesus shouted, "Father, I commit my spirit to you," and with these words he died (1).

end of flashback

"And three days later, His tomb was empty and many spoke of seeing and touching him. His followers, near and far, said that He appeared before them, proclaiming victory over death and the fulfillment of the prophecies," Methos finished his tale, taking a long pull from his bottle of beer. "You know the rest of the story. I hear it's a best seller and there have been several movies about it."

"Do you really expect me to believe that you met and spoke to Jesus?" Duncan Macleod, of the clan Macleod, scoffed.

Methos shrugged, his thin shoulders shrouded in a cream colored sweater rose and fell quickly. "Does it really matter if you believe me or not?"

"Then why don't you go to Church?" Duncan pressed. "If you've met the guy, why not go and profess your faith?"

Methos rolled his eyes and flicked a beer cap that sailed in a graceful arc over Macleod's head and by the tiny clinking sound, he had hit something in the process; hopefully it had been valuable.

"Yes, I believe there is a God and that Jesus is the Messiah, but I don't feel a need to go to a church and follow what they teach. I know what I saw and what I believe in."

"So you're saying that Christianity got it wrong and you have the answer?" Duncan would not let it go; there was a stubborn look on his face that was familiar and a bit tiresome.

"No," Methos said, irritated. "Christianity as a whole did not get it wrong and no I do not have the answer. I might be old Macleod, but I am not an oracle. In general, what people feel in their heart to be the truth about a higher power is not wrong and how they express it is up to them. I have no problem if someone chooses to follow the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church, Taoism, or even Scientology – well, except for Tom Cruise; he's annoying."

"Why did He let you go, knowing what you and your friends had done?"

Methos momentarily thought about taking Macleod's head, just to shut him and his self-righteous mouth up. "I don't know. I'm not God, but I like to think He had a reason."

"He didn't punish you; give you what you deserved for all of the murder, chaos, and depravity you caused? How can you live your life the way you do when you know the Truth?"

"We never get what we truly deserve Macleod. I don't know why He let me go, but I am grateful for it," Methos snapped. "As for the Truth, I only know what I know. He didn't give me any insight to our nature, why we are here, and the Game. I live my life the way I want to, not how you think I should. Get over yourself Macleod." The legendary Immortal stood up, with anger.

"Don't go," Duncan said, feeling that he had pushed the Old Man too far, wanting to know more about events that had taken place two thousand years in the past.

Methos rolled his eyes, knowing that the Scot wanted had more questions to ask, ones that he did not have the answer to. "Can't I have plans for tonight and they don't include you," he said and finished the beer and he then chucked it at the other Immortal who caught it, lest it hit and destroy something important. "Catch you later."

With that, the oldest known Immortal left the barge, stepping out into the late January night, breathing in the cold air, leaving his antagonist behind.

"Sometimes I think you let me live so I would have to live with what I've done and the thousands of regrets that I have," Methos whispered, knowing that the One that his words were for would hear them.


A/N: Well, what do you think? Crap or not? Hit the shiny review button and let me know.

(1) was from Luke 24: 44-46, King James Bible (normally I would have used a Catholic Bible, but it is upstairs and I am downstairs – I'm lazy, I admit it – so I used my husband's bible instead (oh no, a Catholic had married a Methodist! How scandalous…lol).

The information about the clothing of Methos and Rebecca would have worn came from Catholicculture(dot)org.

Also, I don't know how old Rebecca (as in the Rebecca that was Amanda's teacher), but I wanted to use her in the story. For some reason I loved her character in the show, despite how small the role actually was. I don't remember if the show ever went into Methos' spiritual beliefs, but I felt that he probably believed in something, just not in an organized religion kind of way. I do remember that Macleod, according to a few things mentioned on the show that he had been raised Catholic. Finally, for the attitude: Macleod could be a bit grating with how self-righteous he could be about Methos' past and his views on what was right and wrong, so I kind of went with that.

Anyway, this was short, but the idea had been bugging me for a little while and I had to get it down before it either disappeared or drove me insane (either scenario is as equally likely). Please don't forget to leave behind a review and let me know what you think, good or bad. I live for feedback (it helps me grow as a writer and as a person).