The Methos Chronicles: Come Together By Mina-Clare Moseley Synopsis: Episode 1 of "The Methos Chronicles". Methos is trying to fit into a comfortable life as a history professor. However, with MacLeod in town it's going to be difficult. Rating: PG-13. Language and violence. Archive: Seventh Dimension and anyone else who wants it. Author's Notes: This is Episode 1 in the 13 episode season. Many thanks to Fre and Susan. For more information on the Methos Chronicles series check out: http://straykitty.com/deargirl/methos/fanfiction/chronicles PLEASE send feedback. Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Davis-Panzer Entertainment. This is non-profit fan fiction. **** Duncan MacLeod bowed his head, bringing the long match to the candle wick. It sparked to life, glowing brightly in the dark church. A candle for Connor. A candle for Richie. A candle for Tessa. The candle burned for all of those MacLeod had known in his 400 years, and who had died because of him. He was so tired of the death. He shut his eyes, saying a prayer. He ignored the buzz he felt. He was on Holy Ground. He opened his eyes, looking at the man who was next to him. He recognized him immediately. It was 1850. He had been challenged by a dark haired woman. Her name was Imelda. She was young, inexperienced. MacLeod tried to stop her from challenging him, but she would not listen. He beheaded her. When the Quickening ended, her husband saw what had happened. MacLeod had barely gotten out with his life. "Duncan MacLeod," Logan Kerrigan growled. "Do you know who my candle is for?" "Imelda," he whispered. "You murdered her." "She challenged me...." "I'm going to kill you, Duncan MacLeod. If it's the last thing I do." ***** He is immortal. Born 5,000 years ago, the details of his birth have been lost to the ages. He will only fall with the strike of a sword and the loss of his head. He has been a healer.... A scholar.... A killer.... He is Methos. The Methos Chronicles Episode 1-- Come Together Written by Mina-Clare Moseley ***** Just how many times had he been in a classroom? Methos had lost count. For thousands of years, Methos had flirted with scholarly living. He had learned, taught. Now, he was teaching hundreds of kids the facts of history. Methos liked facts. They were what society told you was the truth. It was the whitewashed version of what really occurred. The truth is ugly. The facts are just echoes of the truth. According to the facts, people had a lifespan of about 80 years. If only that were the truth. For most people, it was the truth. For Methos, and a handful of others, it was different. Over 5,000 years had past since Methos had felt his first death. He had never divulged to anyone how he first died. He said he couldn't remember. You never completely forget your first death. It may fall into the recesses of your mind, but it is always there. They were never solid memories. It was just flashes, almost like when a person goes under hypnosis to "find" a past life. Yes, this event happened during your lifetime. However, you can't recall anything else about it. Methos had too many experiences like this. His time on the Methos Chronicles, in the guise of Adam Pierson, proved this. Half the time, if he got a piece of information from several millennia ago, he could not remember if it was fact or fairy tale. The Methos Chronicles were behind him now. Adam Pierson was behind him. The hard part was figuring out if Methos himself was behind him. He was Dr. Benjamin Roberts, a teacher of Ancient History as Oxford University. It was an identity, easily cast aside among those he trusted. These days, those numbers dwindled. "For next class, I would like a 1500 word essay on Ancient Greek Mythologies and how it was incorporated into daily life." Methos turned to the class, smiling. "And I expect it to be more than a synopsis of last week's episode of 'Xena'." The students who had sat enraptured by his lecture gathered their books. They cleared out quickly. A young woman, no more than nineteen, approached the tall man. "Dr. Roberts, I just wanted to say, your lecture was wonderful." "Thank you." He pulled his chair out, falling casually into it. His body seemed boneless as he conformed to the hard wood. "You speak with such passion about history," she said. "Like you were there." "The only way to honour the dead is to teach those who remain of their feats." The young woman leaned over Methos' desk, showing off her ample cleavage. He tried to fight laughter. Whenever he posed as a teacher, at least one student tried to weasel her way into his sheets. There was something attractive about university professors. "It is so refreshing to meet a man who treasures knowledge." Methos smiled, rising from his chair. "It is nice to meet a girl who treasures a man who treasures knowledge. But I'm afraid you're looking in the wrong place." "Is it the age difference?" she asked. "It's only a few years." Gathering his papers, Methos bit his tongue. "If only you knew." ***** Striding casually down the halls, Methos glanced at student and faculty members. He kept his chin held high, a self-confidence surrounding him. Methos fit the role of the new university professor perfectly. Dressed in a white cableknit sweater and black jeans, he appeared professional, but still young. His chiseled features and stunning hazel eyes had earned him many admirers. Methos stopped in front of a oak door, opening it. His office was still in a disarray, the furniture old and worn. He needed to work his way up to nice furniture. He also needed to work his way up to a better secretary. Erin Shields was the first person Methos had met when he came to work at Oxford. She was a beautiful, tall blonde. While hard-working and kind, she was one of the dumbest women Methos had ever met. "Dr. Roberts!" Erin jumped up from her desk, her hand filled with papers. "I have your messages." He took the papers from her. "Thank you." Smiling broadly, she sat back down. "I sort of.... Made a mistake." "Oh?" Methos' eyebrow quirked up. "Two of your students wanted to make tutorial appointments, and I scheduled them at the same time. They're both waiting in your office." "I'll take care of it." Methos looked over his messages. The coloured immediately drained from his face. "Send them both away. Reschedule them." Erin got up again. "Is everything okay, Dr. Roberts?" "Fine." Methos clutched the paper. "I have some unfinished business." Slipping his jacket on, Methos felt the cool steel of his sword. And he thought he had left Paris behind him. ***** It's not that Methos hated Paris. It was just too much for him. He had so many ties there. Amanda, Joe and MacLeod were living there full time. He had friends. In his business, friends were not an asset. It had been nice. If Methos had ever needed help, there was someone there. Usually, it was Methos who was doing the helping. That was the problem. It was time for a fresh start. A new home, a new identity. Deep in his heart, he felt a pang of regret. He had grown to like the role of Adam Pierson. Adam was low maintenance. No one ever checked up on him. He was just one of those kids around the university who kept to himself. Then, MacLeod came into the picture. Six years ago to the fucking day. In those six years, he had done more fighting than he had in centuries. In that short time, Methos had lived. He had ceased to be a legend. He became a man again. After six year of living as an immortal, Methos needed a change. He needed to sever the final ties. It took a hell of a long time to finally be free of Adam Pierson, but now it was done. It didn't help that the Watchers had discovered his identity. It was only a matter of time. Hanging around with Duncan MacLeod, he should have know he couldn't stay hidden. Methos was good at hiding, but not that good. He strode down the street, pulling his trenchcoat tightly around his body. The sky was filled with dark rain clouds. The atmosphere of London was almost always like this. Everything was a different shade of grey. Duncan MacLeod was coming to town. Methos' stomach dropped at the thought. It's not that Methos never wanted to see Duncan MacLeod ever again. In the last six years, he had grown quite fond of the Highland bastard, but disappearing for a few decades wouldn't hurt. Methos knew MacLeod and he would be around for a long time. They would cross paths again. Now was not the right time. Sighing, Methos headed down to the pub. He had become a regular face around the bar. He kept to himself, having a few drinks before disappearing into the night. No one knew his name. Most people didn't care. He liked it that way. He was just about to open the door when his ears prickled. There was someone walking behind him. The walk was distinct: slow and methodical. There were three clicks of metal against the concrete ground. Letting out a deep sigh, he slowly turned. His eyes set upon an elder man in a grey suit. His silver hair was swept back neatly, his beard closely trimmed. Methos shook his head. "I got your message." "Surprised, Old Man?" Joseph Dawson asked, walking to Methos. His shoulders slumping, Methos leaned against the wall of the pub. "Surprised, no. Annoyed, yes. So I'm going to be seeing MacLeod?" "Yes. I called him, told him to come see me. But I want him to talk to you." "Why? I haven't seen MacLeod in months." Joe nodded. "I know. He came to you looking for Connor MacLeod. Do you know what happened after that?" "I've decided to stay out of other people's business. Easier to stay alive that way." "Do you know what happened with Kell?" "I figured one of the Highlanders got rid of him." "Duncan." "Well.... Mazel Tov." Methos opened the door, going into the pub. "Connor MacLeod is dead." Methos stopped cold in his tracks. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Slowly, he turned around. He walked back out the door. "I have been out of the loop. It was Kell?" "No." Shutting his eyes, Methos let out a sigh. "Don't tell me...." "Connor attacked Duncan. Made him do it. It was the only way Duncan could take down Kell." "Immortal suicide. I'm familiar with it. And MacLeod is brooding over the death of his kinsman?" "There's more." ***** Two pints of beer later, Joe had laid out the story for Methos. Sprawling on the barstool, the 5,000 year old man tried to absorb it all. "I repeat, I have been out of the loop. So you want me to talk to Mac?" "Would you?" "If Mac wanted to talk to me, he would have come to me." "I'm worried about him, Methos." "Since Mac chopped Sean Burns, I'm now the immortal therapist?" "He's you're friend." "And every time he comes knocking, I get dragged up to my ass in problems!" sighing, Methos conceded. "So, is MacLeod going to be stopping by my place?" "I'll call you when he gets in. Tell you where you can meet him." Methos narrowed his gaze at Joe, his hazel eyes scrutinizing the mortal. "So why are you here? You don't watch MacLeod anymore. Last I heard, you were in a nice little training position." "I am. It's here." Setting his beer down, Methos groaned. "You're living in Oxford." "Methos, this is where the English division of the Watchers are. Hell, I'm surprised you settled here." "All the Watchers in Oxford are rookies. I've been able to dodge them." Joe cracked a smile. "I know." ***** Methos kicked his feet up onto his desk, marking his class' essays. Most of them were exactly the same, as if photocopied out of an encyclopedia. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Staying awake was key at this point. The door opened, and Erin poked her head in. "Dr. Roberts? There's somebody here to see you." The buzz spread through Methos. He stood up, ready to reach for his sword. He relaxed when the beautiful brunette sauntered into the room. "Well, well, well... Amanda." Amanda smiled, sitting down. "Benny, it's so good to see you." "Thank you, Erin," Methos gestured for her to leave. Erin shut the door. "What brings you to my neck of the woods, Amanda?" He ground his teeth together. "I bet I can guess." Crossing her legs, Amanda tried to keep her composure. "It's about Duncan." "And that was my guess." Methos rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. "What about him?" "I'm really worried about him." "Apparently, so is the rest of the world." Amanda reached into her jacket. She pulled out a sword. Her hands trembled as she set it on Methos' desk. "Duncan's katana?" Methos picked it up. "I don't understand...." "I received this in the mail two days ago. Duncan is walking around unarmed. I talked to Joe, and found out he was coming here." "What do you and Joe expect me to do?" Methos asked. "MacLeod's not famous for taking my advice." "Please, Methos.... I think someone's coming after MacLeod." "Haven't we gone through this melodrama before?" Methos spat. "It sounds awfully familiar." "There's an immortal who's been looking for MacLeod. His name is Logan Kerrigan. I am almost positive he's following Duncan. And he's unarmed, and upset and I think he has a death wish." "I'll see what I can do," Methos muttered, "I leave Paris, and Paris comes to me." "Thank you." Amanda gave him a kiss on the cheek. As Amanda left, Methos sunk even lower in his chair. He buried his face in his hands. "Why do I even try? That fucking Highlander is going to be the end of me." ***** Methos strolled back to his office. Class had gone by uneventfully. It was the only time in the last twenty-four hours he hadn't been bothered by an old friend. Upon entering his office, Erin jumped up as usual. "Dr. Roberts, you have a phone call. They say it's urgent." Setting down his briefcase, took the phone. "Hello?" "It's Dawson." "Where can I meet him?" "He's going to be at the Ashmolean at 5:00." "Is there any truth to what Amanda told me?" "About Logan Kerrigan?" "Yeah." "Kerrigan's one step behind MacLeod." "Perfect." Methos sighed. "Just perfect. I'll talk to you later." He slammed down the phone. Putting his coat on, he turned to Erin. "Cancel my appointments for this evening." "But you already canceled on these two students yesterday." "They will have to learn to live with disappointment." Methos scowled as he headed out the door. "I sure have." TO BE CONTINUED......