Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis/Highlander
Characters: Carson Beckett, Elizabeth Weir,
John Sheppard, Methos, mentions of others.
Prompt: #51 water
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis belongs to Gekko Film Corp and its producers and creators. It is not mine. Highlander: the Series belongs to Panzer/Davis Productions etc. It,too, is not mine. Note: This story picks up immediately after where "Been a Long Time Dry" left off.
"Scenes from a Floating World" by karrenia
“Well? Dr. Elizabeth Weir sat perched on the edge of the one of the computer consoles regarding her chief medical officer with a frank and penetrating look, but one that seemed to imply that she would wait until he finished drawing his conclusions from his examination of the man called Methos, but her patience had its limits.
“Well, the answer is both yes and no. We warned by his ah, friends, that he would be a most difficult man to pin down,” Dr. Carson Beckett replied.
“That’s exactly why we need to pin him down, as you say, Carson. I don’t like having any more mysteries or rather unresolved enigmas on m plate than we can handle,” she replied.
“And while I think we can trust both Ryan and MacLeod to vouch for him, I can’t help but get the feeling that this Methos operates on an entirely different order than those two. I don’t like, I can’t explain it, but I want to deal with it.”
“I could have hoped for something a little more concrete to go on than that,” Elizabeth sighed. “And although I believe that, reluctantly but sincerely I believe both of them are playing it straight with us.”
“I’ve compared their medical records with his and while there are similarities, there are so many other things that don’t add up.”
“Okay, let’s let that go, for now,” Try another tack, have you asked him what’s up with the swords?”
“Methos, now, he’s an engima wrapped in a riddle. Ryan and MacLeod mentioned something about a cosmic game where each has to fight each until the end and whoever is left standing at the end wins.”
“Good god!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “What do they win?”
“They call it the Prize. Some kind of mystical mumbo-jumbo that I cannae make heads or tails off. They take it quite seriously. However, I think we can rest assured that that won’t happen here.”
“Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better. I’d rather not have to issue an executive order for no sword fights in Atlantis.” Elizabeth sighed and reached up to brush as ide a strand of her that had fallen down over her eyes. In the back of her mind she could not help but picture a scenario where such a thing took place and shook her head.
‘It could happen, but she would be damned that if and when it did occur, that anyone would get killed. Not on her watch.’ Aloud she said. “Carson, did you hear me?”
Carson began to snicker and for a minute or to attempted to stifle his humor at the image she had evoke, keeping a serious and professional demeanor, but somehow the snicker turned into a full-blown chuckle. As soon as he had recovered from his bout of laughter he said: “I am sorry, Elizabeth. But let’s hope that you will not have to do that.”
“Agreed,” she replied.
John Sheppard went looking for Methos, having spent some time looking in what he felt were reasonable places that the other man might have gone after he had reported for his physical in the infirmary. No luck. It was as much as his performing his duty as curiosity that had prompted him to look for him as anything else, added to the fact that he had never seen anyone consume mass quantities of alcohol and still remain upright afterwards.
He had been given to understand by the only two people who might have been able to share their own insight on the man, Ryan and MacLeod, that Methos had a habit of being a chameleon, that he wore masks, he donned them and removed them as suited his need and the situation in which he found himself.
Added to the fact was the revelation that Methos was very possibly the oldest immortal still kicking around. When they had told him that, Sheppard felt as if someone could have toppled him over with a feather. If he had not been straining at the proverbial bit before, this detail could have knocked him over with a feather. He wanted to know more, and he wanted to know it now.
Sheppard came into the room, and removed his boots pretending that he was merely going for the quarterstaff mounted on the holding racks and did not see the other man pacing up and down and cursing under his breath.
“Go away!” the other man shouted.
“I have as much right to be here as you do,” Sheppard calmly remarked.
“Fine, just don’t interrupt me when I ‘m in the middle of a royal blue funk.”
“What to talk about it?”
“What part of don’t interrupt, did you not comprehend?” Methos demanded.
“What’s put a burr under your saddle?” he asked.
The other man gritted his teeth and his whole body shook either with the intensity of anger or frustration. The most agonizing thing of it all that even in his own mind he could say for certain whether or not his seemingly directionless anger was due to his situation, at himself, or the fact that he’d could finagle his way out of his current detestable situation.
Oh, sure, he was glad to be alive, instead of blown into his component parts. Maybe he was mad because MacLeod and Ryan seemed to be adapting to the situation and their new surroundings with aplomb and ease that he could not match.
The trip in the Puddle Jumper with Dr. Rodney McKay had shown that he could give them both a run for them when it came to learning the new technology that surrounded them on all sides on Atlantis, but he still had much to learn. It was aggravating, how much there was for him to learn.
“What do you care!” he muttered aloud and turned his back on Shepaprd.
“Believe it or not, your choice, I do care.”
“Because, now that you’re here, I am responsible for everyone in this city, that includes you, or little ray of sunshine and because...
“Don’t tell me, the boy-scout put you up to this?”
“Boy-Scout? Oh, you must mean Duncan. And for the record, he didn’t put me up to anything. I came to talk to you on my own.”
“Bully for you, mate.
“You know I had this whole speech worked out,” John Sheppard replied. “I had planned to be subtle about it, but I think maybe we’ll go with direct approach instead.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“How it feels, I mean, to be you.”
“You’re insane, do you realize that?” And if you think I’m going to tell you that, you can add a death-wish to insanity. Let me put it this way,” Methos glided forward and covered the distance between where he stood and where Sheppard stood in a matter of a few seconds and grasped him by the lapels of his uniform. “I’ve been around as long as I have by looking out for number one, so you just keep your curiosity and your questions to yourself and we’ll both be happier in the long run. Got it?”
Sheppard nodded and pulled himself away from the vise-grip on his collar. “This isn’t over.”
“Is that a threat or an observation?” Methos asked after a moment or two of awkward silence passed between them and he returned to his restless pacing.
Sheppard sighed. “A little of both would be a fair enough assessment.”
“Do you always have to have the last word?” Sheppard asked.
“Yeah, pretty much.”