This is a Christmas Fic for Toots... Merry Ficmas Dahling!
I have changed canon. There is no Highlander The Source... that was a weird movie.
Methos' world is about to be irrevocably changed... he learns he is the exception to a very big rule...
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Joe ran the soft, flour-sack cloth over the gleaming bar, his thoughts spinning and tumultuous. He knew he’d made the right decision, he just didn’t know how his old friend was going to take this turn of events.
All of his unnaturally long life he’d been led to believe a series of fundamental truths; truths that for the most part were accurate... but it seemed, not for him. No, three men had walked into Joe Dawson's bar and had blown that all to hell.
Joe looked at the back of the bar where the three younger men were just sitting down. All three men were tall with varying shades of dark brown hair. The eldest, perhaps close to his thirties, wore sunglasses, and his dark hair was longish, just hitting his shoulders and had a gleam of reddish when the lights hit it. He wore brown, worn leather pants, a thick cream work shirt, combat boots and a deep brown leather duster that, while old, was obviously expensive and well kept. So far he hadn’t said a word. The youngest of the three, who looked barely legal enough to be in the bar, had a short dark Mohawk, and was dressed in jeans, sneakers, a football jersey and an old Army coat.
It was the middle man who Joe had been dealing with; the middle man who Joe actually knew. He was brought out of his thoughts as the door to the bar opened and the man he was expecting rushed up.
“Joe, what the bloody Hell could be so grim you left such a doom and gloom message on my machine?” Adam Pierson frowned at the gray-haired Watcher before straightening stiffly. There was something extremely off in the bar that evening. Not another Immortal per se… but something… not right. The place was practically empty.
“You’re gonna want to sit down for a few minutes, Old Man,” Joe said gruffly. “I’ve got some news, and it’s gonna shock you… It’s definitely life changing.”
“Duncan’s okay, right,” Adam asked, now really worried.
“Duncan’s fine. It’s you who’s in for the shock.” Joe leaned forward and met the Immortal, Methos’s eyes. “I’m going to tell you some things… things that aren’t supposed to be possible… things that had you known you would have done things differently… I know it’s gonna go against everything you’ve ever been told and believed, but it’s all true.”
“What are you getting on about, Joe,” Adam asked warily.
The two men were interrupted by another voice entering the conversation. “You gonna talk him to death, Watcher Dawson, or are you gonna send Dad back to get to know us,” the voice was a bit mocking in its tone.
Adam blinked as he watched Joe pale and then he turned to see who was speaking. The man was in his mid to late twenties, tall with a good build, obviously a fighter with the scars to prove it. He had dark hair with a natural curl which was a shade lighter than Adam’s own, and his one eye was a dark brown. Where the other eye should have been was a dark leather eye-patch tooled with mystic runes. The boy, because really everyone was a boy to Methos, wore a button down green shirt, black jeans and a black leather jacket which was currently hiding various weapons. Methos was intrigued, because the boy was good. It took a sharp eye to find the weaponry.
“Dad,” he questioned, playing dumb, “Watcher? What’s a watcher?”
The boy snorted. “Try it on someone not in the know. I’ve been in it too long to not recognize what you are even if I
wasn’t looking for you specifically.”
Adam looked between Joe and the other man cautiously now.
Joe took pity on him quickly. “Adam Pierson, let me introduce you to Xander Harris of the International Watcher’s Council, or the IWC, as they go by these days… sister company to my own calling.”
Now Adam’s eyes widened further. They’d all heard of the IWC and of Xander Harris; The One Who Sees. “I didn’t realize The One Who Sees was an Immortal,” he said softly enough to keep it between the three of them.
“Not yet,” Harris smirked. “I didn’t know it was genetic.”
“It’s not,” Adam said instantly. “Immortals are barren… Foundling children. We’re unable to have children.” The pain in his eyes was hard to miss. “That’s why your Dad joke wasn’t humorous.”
Xander and Joe shared a look. “I hate to break it to you,” Xander took a gentler tone. “But you must be the exception to the rule, because you are my biological father… and not only are you my biological father, but I have two gentlemen with me that share the same paternal genetic make up… the same father, which means you’re their father too. So…
Congratulations, they’re boys!”
Adam was speechless. It was impossible. He looked to Joe.
“I’ve seen the tests… All IWC run. They say the same thing, Old Man. It’s true. We can do more if you want, but…”
“You’re mother was…”
Methos sat down heavily.
“I see you remember her. Oh, and just so you know… If Remy or Noah ever die… yep, Immortals.”
“Sons, I have sons…” Methos whispered.
“Guess I won’t count you as a Deadbeat Dad since you didn’t know… better warn Puck,” Xander murmured, and started
back for the table, feeling Adam following right behind him. “Guys, this is Adam, also known as Methos, but we’ll call him
Adam. Adam, this is Remy and this is Noah. True story, up ‘til two minutes ago Adam thought Immortals were sterile and couldn’t ever have children.”
The youngest, sputtered, “Sterile? Ha! You said I’m gonna be one of them Immortals, right? ‘Cuz me and Quinn had Beth in High School, after one forgotten condom, and my fiancé and me now are about to seven months along, and we always use protection. That is so far from sterile it ain’t even funny. That’s not sayin’ our baby ain’t gonna be the most kickass baby in the world,” he finished fiercely.
Xander hid a grin. He’d just found his two brothers within the last year, Remy almost a year ago, and Noah just after he’d found out his girl was pregnant, but already he loved them both as if they’d been with him always. Now he looked at the man who was his father, a man thousands of years old caught in the body of a college student, and saw want and desire in the man’s eyes. Here was a man who wouldn’t have left him to Jessica and Tony Harris if he’d known Xander existed. Here was a man who would have tracked down the bastards who’d kidnapped an infant Remy from the hospital he’d been stolen from. Here was a man who would have been there to watch Noah grow up, not left him behind to flounder.
“Ya din’ know ‘bout us den,” Remy asked the man in his thick Cajun tongue.
“Gods, no… if I’d ever had any idea that I could have a child… or I had a child I’d have been there… it’s something I’ve
“I don’ have no famille growin’,” Remy was blunt, “but nice ta know ya now.”
Xander’s smile widened, “So... the first drinks are on me!”