#21: Friend - part 1 (Byron)
written for the hl50 challenge. Takes off from the end of
idontlikegravy's Working Class Hero, with permission.
For my purposes, this takes place sometime after Messenger, and sometime before The Modern Prometheus. There will be more parts to it as Methos tells his story.
Dedicated to
idontlikegravy for providing inspiration.
Like Music on the Waters
part one
The problem with telling stories about Byron to Richie Ryan is that sooner or later said stories will undoubtedly make their way to the ears of Duncan MacLeod.
The years he spent with Byron stand out in Methos' memory as one of the more debauched periods of a long and dubious life (even taking into account that incident at Woodstock with the twins, the French contortionist, and Hugh Fitzcairn). If MacLeod hears about them, it will most likely lead to brooding recriminations on the Highlander's part, or possibly just heated accusations that he's been corrupting Richie.
Still, the kid is looking at him expectantly, and now Joe is leaning on the bar, listening in.
"What gives?" he asks, and Methos is ready to call down a curse on nosy Watchers and baby Immortals alike.
"Nothing," he says, but Richie grins.
"Adam was telling me that he knew Lord Byron."
Methos doesn't correct the boy's assumption that Byron was mortal. Ryan's little hunting spree is not that far in the past, and protecting Byron is still instinctive. Joe, unfortunately, is not so circumspect -- or perhaps he simply trusts Richie.
"You know Byron?" he asks, and Richie picks up on the change in tense.
"Byron's Immortal?"
Methos cocks an eyebrow at Joe. "Don't you have customers to wait on?"
"I also have employees," Joe points out calmly. "Give, old man."
"Yeah," Richie echoes. "Spill."
Methos glowers impartially at both of them, but it's mostly for show. The truth is that, barring any Highlander-related fallout, it is surprisingly pleasant to have someone to share his past with.
"Byron. Right. He's Immortal. There was a lot of alcohol, a lot of poetry, and a lot of sturm und drang."
"Melodrama," Joe clarifies, off of Richie's confused expression. "What, that's it? We don't get details?"
"You promised me a story," Richie says. His smirk suggests that his petulant tone is entirely for Methos' benefit.
"Fine," Methos says, giving in with a show of poor grace and trying desperately to think of one of the least scandalous incidents he and Byron had been party to, "since you'll obviously whine until I give in."
Richie looks victorious. Joe's fingers twitch, and he throws a casual glance around the bar.
"Stop looking for a pen, Dawson," Methos says, "and I'll tell you a story."
idontlikegravy's Working Class Hero, with permission.
For my purposes, this takes place sometime after Messenger, and sometime before The Modern Prometheus. There will be more parts to it as Methos tells his story.
Dedicated to
idontlikegravy for providing inspiration.
Like Music on the Waters
part one
The problem with telling stories about Byron to Richie Ryan is that sooner or later said stories will undoubtedly make their way to the ears of Duncan MacLeod.
The years he spent with Byron stand out in Methos' memory as one of the more debauched periods of a long and dubious life (even taking into account that incident at Woodstock with the twins, the French contortionist, and Hugh Fitzcairn). If MacLeod hears about them, it will most likely lead to brooding recriminations on the Highlander's part, or possibly just heated accusations that he's been corrupting Richie.
Still, the kid is looking at him expectantly, and now Joe is leaning on the bar, listening in.
"What gives?" he asks, and Methos is ready to call down a curse on nosy Watchers and baby Immortals alike.
"Nothing," he says, but Richie grins.
"Adam was telling me that he knew Lord Byron."
Methos doesn't correct the boy's assumption that Byron was mortal. Ryan's little hunting spree is not that far in the past, and protecting Byron is still instinctive. Joe, unfortunately, is not so circumspect -- or perhaps he simply trusts Richie.
"You know Byron?" he asks, and Richie picks up on the change in tense.
"Byron's Immortal?"
Methos cocks an eyebrow at Joe. "Don't you have customers to wait on?"
"I also have employees," Joe points out calmly. "Give, old man."
"Yeah," Richie echoes. "Spill."
Methos glowers impartially at both of them, but it's mostly for show. The truth is that, barring any Highlander-related fallout, it is surprisingly pleasant to have someone to share his past with.
"Byron. Right. He's Immortal. There was a lot of alcohol, a lot of poetry, and a lot of sturm und drang."
"Melodrama," Joe clarifies, off of Richie's confused expression. "What, that's it? We don't get details?"
"You promised me a story," Richie says. His smirk suggests that his petulant tone is entirely for Methos' benefit.
"Fine," Methos says, giving in with a show of poor grace and trying desperately to think of one of the least scandalous incidents he and Byron had been party to, "since you'll obviously whine until I give in."
Richie looks victorious. Joe's fingers twitch, and he throws a casual glance around the bar.
"Stop looking for a pen, Dawson," Methos says, "and I'll tell you a story."