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rivendellroseThis fic has been poking around in my head for a few weeks, now, in various forms. Finally, it conglomerated with some of my anthropology and archaeology readings (yeah, I know) and settled into an incarnation that I like. I'll be getting in some HP stuff soon, I think, for the April Showers Snape/Lupin challenge, but nothing's coming so far.
Fandom: Highlander
Title: "Nomad"
Rating, etc: PG, warning for discussed character death. Set a good while after the end of the series. Gen, and Methos-centric.
No money is being made, and I don't own any of the characters, least of all Methos. If I did, I could probably find better uses for my time than writing fic, don't you think? ;)
Without meaning to, Methos had lived twenty-five years in a single city. Time as mortals understood it passed far too quickly for Methos, but even he could see the changes that had come and gone while he lived in Seacouver, and it was well past time to be sure that no one noticed that he wasn't changing with them.
He suspected that MacLeod knew. There had been a certain understanding in the Highlander's eyes the last time they'd said goodbye, parting with a casual wave as they left the bar. After all this time, the man had finally come to understand that Methos didn't like goodbyes. It was easier just to move on, and not bother with the hollow lies and 'I'll see you soon' formulas. As with so many things in the life of an immortal, it was best to make a clean cut and be done with it. Amanda wouldn't be too surprised, either. Knowing their relationship, she was probably the one who'd hinted as much to get the idea into MacLeod's head.
The restraining factor, over the last few years, had been Joe. Each time he'd gotten the urge to wander away and make a new life for himself, Methos had felt a strange, niggling feeling of something left undone, a thread that hadn't yet been woven properly into the whole, and had returned to his old habits. It didn't take long, when those habits quickly led him to his place at the bar, to realize that the thread was Joe. He wasn't ready to leave the old Watcher behind, knowing that he might lose track of time and come back to the city only to find a fashion boutique or Mexican restaurant in the place of 'Joe's,' and a gravestone instead of his irascible friend. So he'd always taken only short trips, enough to soothe his wanderlust, but not long enough to worry about losing himself in a new place and life.
That last anchor was now gone.
They had buried Joe the day before, after some debate over whether Paris or Seacouver was more appropriate, and ending with the decision that while he'd worked in Paris, Seacouver seemed more like Joe's home. The marker, by mutual agreement, read simply 'Friend and Father.' After a short ceremony, Methos had gone with Macleod and Amy to see Joe's last business dealt with, and they'd all gone to Joe's, opened by the keys left to Duncan, for a last round of drinks in his honor. When he got back to his apartment, Methos had set out his backpack before collapsing on the futon. Early the next afternoon, he'd woken up and immediately started packing.
Long centuries lived as a nomad had trained in him a tendency to live with little relatively few belongings. Not for him the collections of trinkets and furniture as MacLeod seemed to amass everywhere he went - sword and books, blankets, clothes, hiking boots, and a few decorations that could easily be left behind or sold for a bit more expendable cash, and that was almost everything. If something couldn't be carried away in a hasty retreat, it wasn't worth much in his life. At the bottom of his desk, he found the plain cardboard box where he kept important papers, and in it a sleeve for photographs. Shaking his head, he reached to throw them away. Evidence of the past was a burden he couldn't afford, in a new phase of life, but a bright blue corner showed over the edge of the envelope, and he pulled it back, intrigued. Alexa smiled up at him from the photo, the cerulean Mediterranean behind her. Smiling, he set the picture on his knee and flipped through the rest. Graduation from the Watcher academy was tossed into the recycling, but the image of a beaming Joe and Amy at the young woman's wedding caught Methos with an unexpected twist in the gut. The matching smiles, and the memory of Amy's shyness when she invited 'Benjamin Adams' to the ceremony and reception along with her father's other friends, and pulled Joe aside, right there in the bar, to ask him to give her away...
One last photograph caught his eye as he skimmed, determined to ignore the stinging in his eyes; that same night at the wedding, someone had snapped a shot of the father of the bride and his two young friends, and later sent copies to all three men. Methos shook his head, and tucked the three photographs into his wallet, sending the rest of the small pile on their way into the bin. They didn't weigh much, and no one would question a few old photographs, wherever he next settled down for a while.
It would feel good to be on the road again, to put the past behind him and recreate himself in a new place, among new people, but for the moment he wasn't quite ready to put aside every memory of the last twenty-five years. It was hard to say when he might find such good friends again.
Fandom: Highlander
Title: "Nomad"
Rating, etc: PG, warning for discussed character death. Set a good while after the end of the series. Gen, and Methos-centric.
No money is being made, and I don't own any of the characters, least of all Methos. If I did, I could probably find better uses for my time than writing fic, don't you think? ;)
Without meaning to, Methos had lived twenty-five years in a single city. Time as mortals understood it passed far too quickly for Methos, but even he could see the changes that had come and gone while he lived in Seacouver, and it was well past time to be sure that no one noticed that he wasn't changing with them.
He suspected that MacLeod knew. There had been a certain understanding in the Highlander's eyes the last time they'd said goodbye, parting with a casual wave as they left the bar. After all this time, the man had finally come to understand that Methos didn't like goodbyes. It was easier just to move on, and not bother with the hollow lies and 'I'll see you soon' formulas. As with so many things in the life of an immortal, it was best to make a clean cut and be done with it. Amanda wouldn't be too surprised, either. Knowing their relationship, she was probably the one who'd hinted as much to get the idea into MacLeod's head.
The restraining factor, over the last few years, had been Joe. Each time he'd gotten the urge to wander away and make a new life for himself, Methos had felt a strange, niggling feeling of something left undone, a thread that hadn't yet been woven properly into the whole, and had returned to his old habits. It didn't take long, when those habits quickly led him to his place at the bar, to realize that the thread was Joe. He wasn't ready to leave the old Watcher behind, knowing that he might lose track of time and come back to the city only to find a fashion boutique or Mexican restaurant in the place of 'Joe's,' and a gravestone instead of his irascible friend. So he'd always taken only short trips, enough to soothe his wanderlust, but not long enough to worry about losing himself in a new place and life.
That last anchor was now gone.
They had buried Joe the day before, after some debate over whether Paris or Seacouver was more appropriate, and ending with the decision that while he'd worked in Paris, Seacouver seemed more like Joe's home. The marker, by mutual agreement, read simply 'Friend and Father.' After a short ceremony, Methos had gone with Macleod and Amy to see Joe's last business dealt with, and they'd all gone to Joe's, opened by the keys left to Duncan, for a last round of drinks in his honor. When he got back to his apartment, Methos had set out his backpack before collapsing on the futon. Early the next afternoon, he'd woken up and immediately started packing.
Long centuries lived as a nomad had trained in him a tendency to live with little relatively few belongings. Not for him the collections of trinkets and furniture as MacLeod seemed to amass everywhere he went - sword and books, blankets, clothes, hiking boots, and a few decorations that could easily be left behind or sold for a bit more expendable cash, and that was almost everything. If something couldn't be carried away in a hasty retreat, it wasn't worth much in his life. At the bottom of his desk, he found the plain cardboard box where he kept important papers, and in it a sleeve for photographs. Shaking his head, he reached to throw them away. Evidence of the past was a burden he couldn't afford, in a new phase of life, but a bright blue corner showed over the edge of the envelope, and he pulled it back, intrigued. Alexa smiled up at him from the photo, the cerulean Mediterranean behind her. Smiling, he set the picture on his knee and flipped through the rest. Graduation from the Watcher academy was tossed into the recycling, but the image of a beaming Joe and Amy at the young woman's wedding caught Methos with an unexpected twist in the gut. The matching smiles, and the memory of Amy's shyness when she invited 'Benjamin Adams' to the ceremony and reception along with her father's other friends, and pulled Joe aside, right there in the bar, to ask him to give her away...
One last photograph caught his eye as he skimmed, determined to ignore the stinging in his eyes; that same night at the wedding, someone had snapped a shot of the father of the bride and his two young friends, and later sent copies to all three men. Methos shook his head, and tucked the three photographs into his wallet, sending the rest of the small pile on their way into the bin. They didn't weigh much, and no one would question a few old photographs, wherever he next settled down for a while.
It would feel good to be on the road again, to put the past behind him and recreate himself in a new place, among new people, but for the moment he wasn't quite ready to put aside every memory of the last twenty-five years. It was hard to say when he might find such good friends again.
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no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 02:50 am (UTC)It WAS a beautiful and so well done fic though that I will forgive you.
I thoroughly enjoyed it, thanks.
"and I don't own any of the characters, least of all Methos. If I did, I could probably find better uses for my time than writing fic, don't you think? ;)"
Oh, yeah....isn't THAT the truth!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 04:39 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked the fic, though. ;)
And yeah. Much better uses. *g*
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 04:54 am (UTC)Are you up for a couple of nitpicks?
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 05:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 05:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 05:35 am (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 05:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 07:14 am (UTC)Nicely done, and I was really touched by all the memories Methos had and decided to keep.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 04:33 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked it!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 05:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 11:01 pm (UTC)Yum!
Date: 2005-04-05 07:40 am (UTC)Lovely. Your pitch perfect with the atmosphere and colour of Methos' thoughts. I look forward to reading more from you :)
Re: Yum!
Date: 2005-04-05 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 11:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-05 04:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-16 04:42 pm (UTC)thanks!
And please... you need titles for your fic!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-17 08:12 am (UTC)Oops - I'll have to make sure the titles get noted somewhere other than on the LJ-cut. Thanks for pointing that out!