Disclaimer: I don’t own Highlander or Torchwood/ Doctor Who or any of the characters of Highlander or Torchwood/Doctor Who, and I’m not making any money out of them, I’m just doing this for the love of the shows and the love of Richie. All rights and ownership belong to the people who actually own them, I’m just paddling in their shallow end.
Warning: This story contains a non-graphic same sex relationship, so don’t read it if that sort of thing offends. Oo there’s the odd naughty word occasionally too.
PS: This thread of the story had been bouncing around my brain for a while, but the meeting in this story was heavily inspired by the story “Five Times Methos and Jack Met on Vacation” by Jinxed wood, which made me laugh out loud. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, so I hope Jinxed wood finds this very flattering.5. Less is More
Methos strolled along the pavement on his way to the castle. He was going to meet with Paul, a friend from his Watcher days, and hopefully spend a couple of days getting completely pissed. If there was one thing he could always rely on the Welshman for, it was a steady supply of good beer. He was suddenly distracted by the presence of another Immortal. “Not now.” He moaned, as he searched for the source. A young man was running towards the castle entrance from another direction. Methos did a double take when he saw that the man was dressed in a World War Two airman’s uniform. The young man stopped, his hand going to his head, and looked directly at Methos. With a grin of recollection they both pointed at each other.
“You!” said Methos and Captain Jack Harkness in unison. A young woman ran back toward Jack.
“Come on, he’s getting away.”
“You go on Gwen. You and Owen can handle this. I’ve got some other business to take care of.” Gwen looked at him curiously, but figuring she’d get an answer later and not wanting to lose her quarry, she ran back into the castle.
“You’re not with the Doctor this time?” asked Methos. Jack shook his head and laughed. “I think we have a few things we need to discuss, don’t you? Let’s go find a pub and catch up.”
“So you and I and all these other guys are Immortal? And we all have to fight each other in this Gathering. But I can’t die unless…” he drew his finger across his throat. Methos nodded.
“But if what you just told me is true, then it means that the Gathering isn’t here yet. If you are from the future, then it can’t be happening, unless…” he trailed off, a look of consternation on his face.
“Well, if now is the time of the Gathering, but you were born in the future, then you were predestined to come back in time to this moment.” Methos could tell from the look on Jack’s face that the idea of an unchangeable fate was unappealing to him too.
“So what now?” Jack asked. Methos sighed. I have definitely been hanging around the boy-scout too much, he thought to himself resignedly, I can’t believe I’m about to say this.
“I’ll become your teacher. You’ll be challenged by Immortals who have lived for centuries, millennia in some cases.” Methos grinned “At least I know you don’t need much practise with a sword.”
A quiet alley between two houses, dusk.
Methos stood over the body of his opponent as he waited for nausea from the Quickening to pass. He no longer relished killing, even Immortals, but this one wouldn’t take no for an answer. He cursed in his native tongue as he kicked the corpse and headed out of the alley. Suddenly two strangely garbed men came barrelling around the corner, knocking him flat.
“Sorry bud,” said the taller, dark-haired one, “Didn’t see you there.” His words were strange and something tickled in the back of Methos’ mind, as though the stranger were speaking two languages at once, one of which he could not understand. He suddenly realised that the stranger was speaking his own tongue, not the local language, but he was the only one left alive who spoke his language. He intended to demand an explanation, but the shorter fellow was helping him to his feet and speaking.
“Awfully sorry, are you hurt? I’m the Doctor.”
“I do not require a physician.” The Doctor assessed him carefully.
“Ah, no, of course not.” Methos was about to ask him what he meant by that, when a giant of a Moor came around the corner, wielding a nasty looking scimitar.
“Mind if I borrow this?” Jack asked as he grabbed Methos’ sword from the stunned Immortal’s hand. He engaged the Moor in combat, and Methos was impressed. For a mortal, he was skilled with a blade, no, an Immortal he corrected himself, but there was something strange about him, and he was certainly new to the Game or he would carry his own sword. He dispatched the assailant in short order and turned back to Methos to return the sword. “Thanks a lot buddy. Hey it’s you, how you doing?” Methos looked confused.
“I do not know you stranger. You must have me confused with someone else.” The one who had identified himself as a doctor whispered something in his companion’s ear. He looked at him, then Methos and shrugged.
“Sorry, mac, must have, my mistake. Thanks for the sword!” this last part was called out over his shoulder as the two men ran off down the alley.
“So for you that was the first time we met?” Methos nodded his head.
“Unlike some people, I live chronologically. I have to admit you had me bloody confused for a long time. Even now, after everything the Doctor told me, I still find all this time travel stuff a little disorienting.”
“Didn’t you want to travel with him? Find out what was out there?” Methos smiled and shook his head.
“I figure that I will get to see it eventually, providing I don’t lose my head in the meantime. Time Lords and Immortals have two things in common, long life lines and plenty of patience.” Jack nodded his understanding.
“Well as far as I was concerned, we had already met, but I guess for you it would be, what, another millennia?”
Methos staggered out of the pub and headed towards the place he had been staying in. He was serving as a doctor in the RAF, and tomorrow he would be heading to a battlefront hospital, but tonight his mission had been to consume as much beer as he could find. As he stumbled past a dance hall, he was distracted by the faint Buzz of a Pre-Immortal. Mildly curious, he turned to find the source and saw a familiar figure. “You!” he slurred, pointing an accusing finger toward the man, who was dressed in the familiar airman’s uniform. “How are you here? Now?”
Jack looked at the stranger, assessing him. Cute, he thought, a doctor too from the uniform.
“Sorry mac, never had the pleasure. Unfortunately.” he smiled lasciviously.
“But it was you…back in…it was you.” Methos wanted to say more, but there were witnesses. He couldn’t understand how the man wasn’t yet Immortal, when he clearly had been a thousand years ago. And why didn’t he remember Constantinople? Jack and his companions laughed at the drunk and moved off to their next party. A very bemused Methos watched them go.
“Tonight was the first time he met you.” came a voice from the shadows. Methos span round and came face to face with the man who had called himself a doctor. No, Methos corrected himself, the Doctor. “There are a few things I think you need explained to you sir.”
“So the Doctor straightened everything out.”
“Eventually. Even when you’ve lived as long as I have, there are some things that take some getting used to.”
“You’re telling me!” Jack laughed. “I couldn’t understand why I was still alive after the Dalek shot me. I should have been a pile of dust. When I eventually met up with the Doctor again he told me that Rose had used the TARDIS to resurrect me, but that he couldn’t explain my Immortality. Given what he told me about you after Constantinople, he must have been lying, but I guess he thought it wasn’t his place to fill me in.”
“Now, see, that is exactly what I’m talking about. I have absolutely no idea what you just said.” Jack grinned. He was really warming to the old Immortal, and knowing how the ancients were fairly flexible when it came to sexuality, he was kind of hoping he might be able to convince his teacher that the Greek method was best. It was funny, he thought to himself, that mankind was fairly open sexually in ancient times, and again in the future, it was just this bit in the middle where they were so goddamned uptight.
“Hey, look it’s getting late, have you got somewhere to crash?” Methos looked at his watch.
“Well I was going to visit a friend, but seeing as I stood him up at the castle earlier, I don’t think he’d be too amenable to me kipping on his couch right now.”
“Great, then you can come back to mine. We’ll grab Chinese and some beer and discuss history.”
“Make it Indian, more beer and the future and you’re on.” The two of them walked out of the bar.
“Methos, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” The old man groaned at the terrible joke then, putting his arm round Jack’s shoulder, said,
“Jack, I think you may be right.”The L World will continue in Part 6: Living la Vida