[Methos] Flashback
Dec. 31st, 2005 06:48 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
sophiedb.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
crossing_lostrp(related to Culsu's flashback, here)
He came late to the plane, dawdling around the duty-free souvenir shops. The prospect of sensing a Buzz permeated his mind, a form of anticipation that made him undeniably cranky, but he’d rather keep an ‘ear’ out rather than be surprised by a sudden attack.
Ostensibly ‘Dr Pierson’ was searching for last minute gifts, however his underlying motive was to hide himself in plain sight. There were a great many mortals milling about, and the modern habit of projecting a privacy bubble of several feet made it simple for him to avoid contact with all but the requisite shop assistants. All the same, Methos couldn’t resist the temptation of a little playtime with his ex-colleague when the opportunity arose. Perhaps he just wanted to offload some of his own exasperation onto someone else… and she wasn’t exactly an innocent party, was she? Just a voluntary accessory.
“So, Danielle...” he drifted to her side nonchalantly, smirking when the woman jumped. He tossed a box of chocolate covered macadamias from hand to hand, biting his lip in typical Pierson-like shyness. They’d both specialised in the older Immortals back at the Watcher academy, so she knew ‘Adam’ well. “What brings you to Sydney – or should I say, who?”
“Damn it, Adam, you know you’re not supposed to do this,” Danielle Martin glowered, her eyes flicking behind him to scan the crowd – for her Immortal, or his Watcher?
He shrugged, unperturbed. “I see an old friend from college, I remember the line of work she went into, I make small talk – isn’t that what normal people do?”
Danielle put her own box of macadamias back on the shelf and strode off, her shoulders square. Naturally Methos decided to follow, stalking his prey calmly and shadowing her for a good quarter-hour before joining the coffee kiosk queue at her side.
“And I’ll have a large mocha, thank you,” he added for the barista’s benefit, hijacking Danielle’s order before making a token conciliatory gesture. “Take away.” She’d ordered her cappuccino to drink in.
He paid the bill and led her to an empty table, careful not to give off overtly hostile or dominating signals. “Dee, I’m not interested in challenging anyone – least of all in an airport. I’ve checked in my sword, for goodness sake! Most of these people have years of experience on me and I like my head just the way it is, even if I am an embarrassment to the Watchers.”
She snorted, and he gauged that her sense of humour hadn’t gone out with the end of his ‘mortal’ life after all.
“It’s not like I could have known, before – right?” Methos continued, as if pleading for her forgiveness. It was true, he hadn’t known before his first death, though not in the time period he implied. In fact he hadn’t known anything about the Game for his first 600 years.
“At least you didn’t join the field branch, like me,” Danielle answered, finally breaking her silence. “Your charge would have identified you giving off that pre-Immie vibe in no time.”
Not exactly, but close enough.
At first he’d simply been curious about these Watchers, and after confirming that they had no idea he was Immortal – let alone Methos – he’d been happy to take that cosy research job, searching for his ‘mythical’ self. The fact that it had also been handy for keeping tabs on the Immortal population of Paris was merely the icing on the cake.
“Yeh,” he acknowledged, whisking the lid off his cup and giving the coffee a quick stir. “I’ve spent the last two hours with my head down – no pun intended – because I don’t want to become a marked man. In case Simon didn’t tell you, I’m about as far from a head-hunter as you can get.”
Danielle’s eyes laughed, despite her straight face, and finally Methos hit a confusing form of pay dirt. For some reason the idea she found the idea silly – but why? The Immortal in question had obviously survived at least two or three millennia for Dee to be involved, so why would he or she balk at the idea of challenging a sheltered newbie like Dr Adam Pierson?
“You’ve had some training from Duncan Macleod, haven’t you?” the woman pointed out. He smiled inwardly: a 400-year old boy scout could hardly be his teacher, though that was what they had convinced Joe to report and the Highlander’s skill with a sword could not be doubted. “Surely you’re able to hold your own?”
Methos sipped his coffee, wincing a little as it scalded his tongue. “Of course, but practice is very different to combat, as I’m sure you know.”
And now a twinge of… regret? Followed by pride. What could this mean? he mused as the tingle of his Quickening mended damaged taste buds. So this Immortal fought rarely, so rarely that Danielle may not have witnessed a single challenge since her assignment began. The flicker of pride suggested that this was a good thing though; it might mean that this elderly Immortal retained his or her head despite some form of disability… or he could be clutching at straws.
A typical Aussie twang interrupted his train of thought. “Excuse me, sir – these tables are reserved for drink-in customers?”
“Oh! I’m so sorry, miss.” Back to his Pierson role-play: a charming yet anxious plea for mercy. “Can I have a moment to say goodbye to my friend? It was such a coincidence bumping into her in the first place…”
“All right then, but just a moment, ok?” the server moved off in a self-righteous huff, her split second of power over.
Methos looked back at Danielle, a quirky smile on his face. “Look, I’m sorry to have confronted you like this. It really wasn’t fair and you’re only doing your job. I… well, it’s just been so hard. You hear about new Immortals having to leave their homes, friends and family – then you have to live it. It’s not nice, so be thankful you’ll never have to try it.”
He squeezed her hand and made to get up, hoping that she’d feel pity for him and dangle another clue… like what flight they’d be on… but nothing. Damn it!
Still, he wasn’t exactly empty-handed. An Immortal’s Watcher was often the best judge of their character, even those who became obsessed with their charges – and he doubted that Dee was one of those.
Giving her a light kiss on the cheek, ‘Adam’ picked up his mocha and left Danielle with the remains of her cappuccino. He resumed his downcast posture and meandered about the shops until the economy class passengers for Flight 815 were called, so it wasn’t until he was actually on the plane and moving through first class that he finally sensed the Buzz.
Withholding a curse, Methos focused on the sensation and concentrated on feeling out its tone rather than seeking its owner. The Quickening was old, certainly – not as old as his own (naturally) but certainly older than Amanda’s, which fit what he knew of Danielle’s preferences. It also felt less chaotic than most, suggesting a relatively small number of heads taken – interesting, but confirmation of what he’d read from his ex-colleague’s body language. He suppressed the urge to scan the seated passengers and moved on towards his own seat, eyes fixed on the man ahead of him so that there could be no accidental eye contact. They would both suffer the Buzz for several hours this way, but it would also preserve their anonymity – unless the other Immortal chose to seek him out.
When Dee and Simon passed by, headed for the back of the plane, ‘Adam’ grimaced and gave a non-committal shrug. At least the Watcher pair could keep themselves company back there, bound by mutual worry for their charges and unable to discuss the matter in such a public forum. Serve them right, he decided as he plugged in his headphones.
He came late to the plane, dawdling around the duty-free souvenir shops. The prospect of sensing a Buzz permeated his mind, a form of anticipation that made him undeniably cranky, but he’d rather keep an ‘ear’ out rather than be surprised by a sudden attack.
Ostensibly ‘Dr Pierson’ was searching for last minute gifts, however his underlying motive was to hide himself in plain sight. There were a great many mortals milling about, and the modern habit of projecting a privacy bubble of several feet made it simple for him to avoid contact with all but the requisite shop assistants. All the same, Methos couldn’t resist the temptation of a little playtime with his ex-colleague when the opportunity arose. Perhaps he just wanted to offload some of his own exasperation onto someone else… and she wasn’t exactly an innocent party, was she? Just a voluntary accessory.
“So, Danielle...” he drifted to her side nonchalantly, smirking when the woman jumped. He tossed a box of chocolate covered macadamias from hand to hand, biting his lip in typical Pierson-like shyness. They’d both specialised in the older Immortals back at the Watcher academy, so she knew ‘Adam’ well. “What brings you to Sydney – or should I say, who?”
“Damn it, Adam, you know you’re not supposed to do this,” Danielle Martin glowered, her eyes flicking behind him to scan the crowd – for her Immortal, or his Watcher?
He shrugged, unperturbed. “I see an old friend from college, I remember the line of work she went into, I make small talk – isn’t that what normal people do?”
Danielle put her own box of macadamias back on the shelf and strode off, her shoulders square. Naturally Methos decided to follow, stalking his prey calmly and shadowing her for a good quarter-hour before joining the coffee kiosk queue at her side.
“And I’ll have a large mocha, thank you,” he added for the barista’s benefit, hijacking Danielle’s order before making a token conciliatory gesture. “Take away.” She’d ordered her cappuccino to drink in.
He paid the bill and led her to an empty table, careful not to give off overtly hostile or dominating signals. “Dee, I’m not interested in challenging anyone – least of all in an airport. I’ve checked in my sword, for goodness sake! Most of these people have years of experience on me and I like my head just the way it is, even if I am an embarrassment to the Watchers.”
She snorted, and he gauged that her sense of humour hadn’t gone out with the end of his ‘mortal’ life after all.
“It’s not like I could have known, before – right?” Methos continued, as if pleading for her forgiveness. It was true, he hadn’t known before his first death, though not in the time period he implied. In fact he hadn’t known anything about the Game for his first 600 years.
“At least you didn’t join the field branch, like me,” Danielle answered, finally breaking her silence. “Your charge would have identified you giving off that pre-Immie vibe in no time.”
Not exactly, but close enough.
At first he’d simply been curious about these Watchers, and after confirming that they had no idea he was Immortal – let alone Methos – he’d been happy to take that cosy research job, searching for his ‘mythical’ self. The fact that it had also been handy for keeping tabs on the Immortal population of Paris was merely the icing on the cake.
“Yeh,” he acknowledged, whisking the lid off his cup and giving the coffee a quick stir. “I’ve spent the last two hours with my head down – no pun intended – because I don’t want to become a marked man. In case Simon didn’t tell you, I’m about as far from a head-hunter as you can get.”
Danielle’s eyes laughed, despite her straight face, and finally Methos hit a confusing form of pay dirt. For some reason the idea she found the idea silly – but why? The Immortal in question had obviously survived at least two or three millennia for Dee to be involved, so why would he or she balk at the idea of challenging a sheltered newbie like Dr Adam Pierson?
“You’ve had some training from Duncan Macleod, haven’t you?” the woman pointed out. He smiled inwardly: a 400-year old boy scout could hardly be his teacher, though that was what they had convinced Joe to report and the Highlander’s skill with a sword could not be doubted. “Surely you’re able to hold your own?”
Methos sipped his coffee, wincing a little as it scalded his tongue. “Of course, but practice is very different to combat, as I’m sure you know.”
And now a twinge of… regret? Followed by pride. What could this mean? he mused as the tingle of his Quickening mended damaged taste buds. So this Immortal fought rarely, so rarely that Danielle may not have witnessed a single challenge since her assignment began. The flicker of pride suggested that this was a good thing though; it might mean that this elderly Immortal retained his or her head despite some form of disability… or he could be clutching at straws.
A typical Aussie twang interrupted his train of thought. “Excuse me, sir – these tables are reserved for drink-in customers?”
“Oh! I’m so sorry, miss.” Back to his Pierson role-play: a charming yet anxious plea for mercy. “Can I have a moment to say goodbye to my friend? It was such a coincidence bumping into her in the first place…”
“All right then, but just a moment, ok?” the server moved off in a self-righteous huff, her split second of power over.
Methos looked back at Danielle, a quirky smile on his face. “Look, I’m sorry to have confronted you like this. It really wasn’t fair and you’re only doing your job. I… well, it’s just been so hard. You hear about new Immortals having to leave their homes, friends and family – then you have to live it. It’s not nice, so be thankful you’ll never have to try it.”
He squeezed her hand and made to get up, hoping that she’d feel pity for him and dangle another clue… like what flight they’d be on… but nothing. Damn it!
Still, he wasn’t exactly empty-handed. An Immortal’s Watcher was often the best judge of their character, even those who became obsessed with their charges – and he doubted that Dee was one of those.
Giving her a light kiss on the cheek, ‘Adam’ picked up his mocha and left Danielle with the remains of her cappuccino. He resumed his downcast posture and meandered about the shops until the economy class passengers for Flight 815 were called, so it wasn’t until he was actually on the plane and moving through first class that he finally sensed the Buzz.
Withholding a curse, Methos focused on the sensation and concentrated on feeling out its tone rather than seeking its owner. The Quickening was old, certainly – not as old as his own (naturally) but certainly older than Amanda’s, which fit what he knew of Danielle’s preferences. It also felt less chaotic than most, suggesting a relatively small number of heads taken – interesting, but confirmation of what he’d read from his ex-colleague’s body language. He suppressed the urge to scan the seated passengers and moved on towards his own seat, eyes fixed on the man ahead of him so that there could be no accidental eye contact. They would both suffer the Buzz for several hours this way, but it would also preserve their anonymity – unless the other Immortal chose to seek him out.
When Dee and Simon passed by, headed for the back of the plane, ‘Adam’ grimaced and gave a non-committal shrug. At least the Watcher pair could keep themselves company back there, bound by mutual worry for their charges and unable to discuss the matter in such a public forum. Serve them right, he decided as he plugged in his headphones.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}