Title: The Last
Fandom: Highlander, Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Methos/Jacob Carter (Selmak), Jack/Daniel, Teal’c/Cameron
Summary: When the Asgard receive a telepathic cry for help from Earth, Thor asks the SGC for help.
Warnings: implied rape and abuse, slash (explicit in later chapters)
Rating: NC-17 (just to be safe)
Disclaimer: Neither Highlander nor SG-1 belong to me!
Drawing in the first breath was always painful. Methos coughed and tried to roll over onto his side, but was hindered by bonds around his hands, waist and legs. Frightened he opened his eyes, and saw nothing. Everything was black.
He felt the hard bed underneath him and the air reeked of antiseptic. Suddenly a whir sounded and the lights came on, blinding Methos for a moment. A few seconds later his eyes had adjusted to the brightness. Now he could see the room. It was overfilled with seemingly high-tech medical gadgets, some he identified as machines for x-ray and MRT and so on. Others he had never seen before. In the middle of the room he could see a computer terminal. He jumped at a sudden noise from the door. The buzzing of it being opened sounded and four soldiers entered the room, their weapons trained on him, ready to shoot without hesitation. Two doctors followed with starched white coats, gloves already in their hands, eager to begin whatever they had planned to do with him. Bringing up the rear was a man in an Armani suit, who entered and approached him. The man stated politely, “Good morning, Mr. Pierson. I’m Agent Brooks of the Trust. I hope you’re comfortable?"
"It isn’t my usual standard. The room stinks and the bed’s rather hard. Regardless, where am I and how do you know my name?" Methos snarked irritated.
"Do you remember the car crash you were involved in two weeks ago?" Brooks asked patiently.
"Yes, what about it?" his fear grew. He remembered the car crashing into his own. And a cold hand feeling for a pulse just as he died. How he’d come back lying in a sewer and deciding that it was really time to let Adam Pierson die. Bora-Bora had nice climate at this time of the year. 'Shit, I should have left! But no, I had to go to that damned auction for that book.'
"The other driver was one of my men. He told me that the other participant of the accident was dead and we cleared the place of any evidence. I have to say that he was most surprised, when he met you a few days ago very much alive."
"You must have mistaken me for someone else!" Methos protested. Fear was gnawing at him. Would they experiment on him? The probability was rather high. The doctors were readying instruments and switching on their machines.
"That is what we thought, too. But when we looked into your records, we discovered that all of your history and documents were forged. Very professionally done, by the way, but it was still recognizable to those who know what to look for." Brooks had a glint in his eyes as he leaned over Methos. "I’m afraid my men were a bit overzealous when they captured you. They had to sedate you and accidentally administered too much. But you don't have to concern yourself over that matter; the person responsible has been dealt with. Imagine my surprise when we found a sword under your bed, Mr. Pierson…"
Speechless Methos just looked at him.
"Now I would like to ask you some questions, Mr. Pierson." Brooks sat down on a chair a soldier had brought over. Without waiting for a reply, the agent started questioning him, "We know you’re not human. What race do you belong to?"
Methos replied, bewildered, "I don't know what you are talking about. I’m human. I was born in London."
He continued, as if Methos hadn't spoken, "Are there others like you?"
"Are they planning an invasion?"
"They’re already here! Are you guys total morons or something? You have no right to keep me here. I’m just visiting the states!"
"Can you give us the specifics on your weapons and shields?"
"What weapons?!?! I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about!”
For hours the agent continued firing questions at him. Nothing Methos could say seemed to convince that man that he was telling the truth. Agent Brooks turned to the doctors. "I think it is time to test a few of our drugs, Doctor Kelshab."
With professional ease the doctor stepped forward and without warning injected him with something. 'I wonder what they’ll do when they discover that drugs are quickly flushed out of my system, due to my being an immortal,' Methos wondered as everything became hazy.
After two more days of questioning him, Brooks finally lost his patience. "I really hope you can also survive gunshots, Mr. Pierson. We’re going to bring you to another facility. There we’ll see how much you like our hospitality until you tell me what I want to hear." Agent Brooks smirked cruelly. He motioned to two of the soldiers; one took aim and pulled the trigger. The Immortal jerked when he felt the pain shooting through his chest. As he died Methos felt pure overwhelming fear. But, unlike any time before, it was not only for himself – it was for the whole Immortal race.