The Retirement Party, for mackiedockie
Title: The Retirement Party
Author: merriman
Written for: mackiedockie
Characters/Pairings: Methos, MacLeod, Joe
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2,154
Author's Notes: Since I know no one knows my beta here, thanks Zenny!
Summary: Joe is retiring. Yes, really. So naturally Duncan and Methos want to give him traditional Highlander farewell.
At Joe's...
"Joe, could you repeat that? I'm certain you didn't just say what I think you just said."
"I'm retiring."
"One more time, so we can both hear you?"
"You heard me right! I'm retiring. Jeez, you're a pain, Mac."
Joe turned back to the counter to get himself a glass of water, knowing as he did that both Methos and MacLeod were staring at him. When he turned around again, yep, still staring. Mac looked about half a step down from horrified. Methos, on the other hand, was clearly having none of it.
"Bullshit," Methos said, reaching over the bar and grabbing a bowl of nuts. "Watchers don't retire. Pretty sure it's in the bylaws. They gave a whole lecture on 'duty until death' at the Academy during orientation. You're not dead, Joe. Therefore you're not retiring."
"That's just for the new kids," Joe said with a smirk. "Check your old paystubs. You paid into a pension you're never getting."
"Son of a bitch," Methos muttered. "And here I am, thousands of years past retirement eligibility."
Joe shrugged. "Not my problem."
"So, wait," Mac said, getting up to come around behind the bar with Joe. "They're not forcing you into this, right? They're not trying to push you out because you broke rules and you talk to us and all that, right? This isn't my fault, is it?"
It was, in a way, but Joe wasn't about to go saying as much to MacLeod. He'd pushed a lot of boundaries in the organization over the years. He'd told Immortals about the Watchers. He'd protected Mac, given him information. Watchers didn't do that. But none of that was at the root of it now. Mostly it was just that Mac was too mobile these days and Joe just plain wasn't.
"Look, it's not your fault," Joe assured Mac. "And I promise, I hand picked my replacement. You'll like him. He's Scottish. Young. And a total trouble-maker at the Academy. They couldn't wait to foist him off on me for field training."
"So," Methos said, flicking a peanut towards Joe, who caught it. "What now?"
Joe shrugged. "I'm thinking I'll go visit some old friends from my Academy days. Maybe do a little traveling. Play some music. Enjoy being a tourist without having to point my camera at one of you guys."
Concerns allayed, at least temporarily, Mac let Joe finish setting up for the evening at the bar. Methos took off early and Mac found him camped out on his couch when he got back to the loft. His laptop was open on the kitchen counter and several empty beer bottles sat nearby but the old man was ensconced on the couch with a book open on his lap, ignoring MacLeod with all of his might.
"We should throw him a party," Mac said after waiting for a moment for Methos to acknowledge him. "While you're both still in town."
"A party?" Methos said, not looking up from his reading. "And who shall we invite? Us and the Watchers. Yes, that sounds like an awkward party to rival that time in Constantinople where... never mind. You don't want the sordid details."
Mac shook his head and went to shove Methos' feet off the couch so he could sit down. "Well, we should do something. We could take him out to dinner. I don't know. But this is Joe! Come on, Methos. I thought you two were friends?"
"We are friends," Methos assured him. He was still reading his book and Mac leaned over to see what it was, but whatever language it was written in, it wasn't one he knew. "But I'm not throwing him a retirement party."
Mac reached over and in one motion, flipped the book closed and snatched it away. "Methos. Why won't you help me do something nice for one of our friends?"
Methos tried once for the book, then gave up when Mac held it out of reach.
"Because it is bullshit," Methos told him. "Watchers don't retire and I don't care what Joe says. It's not just something they tell the new kids. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of field agents who lived to retirement age and didn't just get transferred to teaching positions at the Academy or research positions in one of the libraries. And do you know what happened to them?"
"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."
"They've got an Old Watchers Home in Tampa. I double checked before you got back. It's still up and running."
Mac almost argued. It was plain on his face that he wanted to. But in the end he didn't and merely settled for a deep sigh as he got up and went to get a beer of his own.
"Do you think Joe knows?"
Methos nodded. "Of course he does. You know him. He's putting on a brave face. But even with a brave face he still did that bluffing thing he does. He knows. They don't want retired Watchers hanging around where they can meddle without the Council's oversight and Joe all but handed himself over for his own trial and execution that one time. They might not think he's a good company man, but he's the best company man they've ever had."
The loft was silent for a few minutes while Methos went back to his book - discarded by Mac when he'd gotten up - and Mac pondered his options.
"Well," he said finally. "We could always kidnap him."
Methos grinned. "See, now you're on to something."
Two nights later...
Reservations made for a private room at one of the more expensive restaurants Seacouver had to offer, Methos and MacLeod pulled up outside the bar only to find that the new bartender hadn't seen or heard from Joe all day. They started to press him, but then Methos grabbed Mac's shoulder and dragged him away.
"What was that about?" he asked once they were outside, wrenching his shoulder back from Methos' grip.
"Watcher," Methos told him. "New place for the tattoo, but I saw it just under his shirt collar. Maybe they got to him before we did."
Mac swore and hurried back to his car, Methos close behind him. Joe's apartment wasn't far and when they got there they found it a mess. The back door was broken in and the bedroom was a mess. But as they looked through the wreckage Methos frowned, picking up a few books and then going to dig through Joe's desk.
"It's not the Watchers," he told Mac. "See? They left chronicles and his laptop. They'd never have left any of this behind. Certainly not with us around. We're far too nosy." As he spoke he flipped through one of the chronicles he'd found, then pocketed it inside his coat. Then he pocketed another and grabbed the laptop. "So it's got to be someone else. Ever get the feeling we should just keep him with one of us at all times, just in case? He's far too easy to use against us. This is why I try not to form attachments, but I'm just so tenderhearted."
"Yeah, you're tenderhearted as a pit viper," Mac muttered. "If he's being used against either of us, we'll find out who's got him as soon as they find us."
"And here we are presenting ourselves! How thoughtful of us!" Methos turned on the laptop and logged in with Joe's password.
"What are you doing?" MacLeod demanded. "Joe needs us!"
"If there are any new Immortals in town, they'll be noted on here. And I never pass up a chance to take a browse through the database. You know, keep my hand in. We're not going to find him ourselves, you know. Not without some hints."
Mac glowered at that, but didn't argue, choosing instead to draw his sword and pace.
Meanwhile, nearby...
"You really are pathetic," Joe snapped at the young-looking man sitting at a desk in the corner of the garage down the street from his apartment. "Kidnapping a disabled old man? What kind of bull is that? You want to challenge someone, at least stick to tradition, man. This is just weak."
"Shut up," the man said without turning around. "It's their own fault for making themselves easy targets."
"Oh sure, they're the easy targets. You're the one practically announcing to local police in every state that they've got a beheading serial killer on the loose. That's sure a great way of staying under the radar."
"Shut up," the man repeated as he worked at something on his computer. He still hadn't turned around and didn't seem to care that Joe knew about his police record. Maybe he didn't care that he even had one. He'd taken away Joe's prosthetics, but hadn't thought to pat him down, with only dropped him in Joe's estimation. If he could just keep him annoyed enough to continue trying to ignore his own kidnapping victim, Joe figured he could be out of the cuffs in another minute or two.
"So what are you gonna try?" he asked. "Gonna tell them both to just kneel and offer their heads or you'll shoot me or something? Cause I can guarantee to you that they've been down that road before and it did not end well for the guy who tried it. Do your homework. These guys aren't easy marks. In fact, why even bother trying with two of them? You can't very well take 'em both at the same time and the other'll kick your ass while you're still throwing sparks." And yep, there went the handcuffs. Joe moved carefully to keep things quiet but his gun was just tucked in its holster. Easy as pie.
This time the man didn't even bother telling him to shut up. He just shifted a little to pick up a phone. Joe caught a glimpse of his computer screen while his kidnapper was leaning to the side and spotted his own apartment, with two very familiar figures visible on camera. Methos looked like he was using Joe's own laptop, the incorrigible ass.
Joe silently pulled out his gun, aimed and fired just as the man lifted the phone to his ear. Head injuries were always a bitch to heal from, so Joe figured he had some time to get his legs back and lock the jackass up with his own cuffs.
And back at the apartment...
The phone had only rung once before it was in Mac's hand and answered.
"Hello? Joe?" he said quickly and was answered by what was unmistakably the sound of a gun firing. "Joe? Joe! Are you okay? Damn you, if you've hurt him... Who are you? What do you want?"
Methos had set aside the laptop and gone over to the back window of the living room.
"Mac?" he said, looking out the window down the alley behind Joe's building.
"Shh! Joe? Are you there? Damn it! Tell me who you are!"
"Mac!" Methos said again, sharper this time. "I heard that shot. From outside. He's got to be nearby."
"If you've hurt him," Mac said, putting as much menace into it as he could muster. "If you've hurt him, I will make you pay."
Methos sighed and slipped out the back door of the apartment, jumping down the stairs of the fire escape and heading down the road to a garage that looked like it should have been condemned at least twenty years back. He wasn't far down the road when the door slammed behind him and Mac hurried to catch up.
"I just heard some scraping and other noises," Mac confided. "You think he's down here?"
Methos nodded, reaching into his coat for his gun. He and Mac flanked the garage's door, then Mac kicked it in and rushed through.
Inside they found a fascinating sight. Joe was finishing strapping on his left leg while a handcuffed Immortal was just coming around on the floor next to a desk.
"Oh look, the cavalry," Joe said calmly. "One of you can deal with Mr. Chatterbox there. And I'm not reporting it, cause I'm damn well retired."
"Seriously?" Methos asked. "Because I didn't think Tampa was your style."
"Screw Tampa," Joe snapped. "Why the hell would I go to Tampa? I'm not letting them pack me away. I'm doing just what I said."
"But you were bluffing!" Methos protested.
Joe grinned. "Was I? Come on. Finish up. I'm starving and you two mentioned a retirement dinner. Least you can do to make up for getting me kidnapped. Again."
Methos shrugged. "Seems fitting, really. We could start a whole new Watcher retirement tradition."
"Oh, they'll love that," Joe said as he made his way out of the garage. "Make sure and clean up. It's not my job anymore, remember. I'll meet you at the car."
END
Author: merriman
Written for: mackiedockie
Characters/Pairings: Methos, MacLeod, Joe
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 2,154
Author's Notes: Since I know no one knows my beta here, thanks Zenny!
Summary: Joe is retiring. Yes, really. So naturally Duncan and Methos want to give him traditional Highlander farewell.
At Joe's...
"Joe, could you repeat that? I'm certain you didn't just say what I think you just said."
"I'm retiring."
"One more time, so we can both hear you?"
"You heard me right! I'm retiring. Jeez, you're a pain, Mac."
Joe turned back to the counter to get himself a glass of water, knowing as he did that both Methos and MacLeod were staring at him. When he turned around again, yep, still staring. Mac looked about half a step down from horrified. Methos, on the other hand, was clearly having none of it.
"Bullshit," Methos said, reaching over the bar and grabbing a bowl of nuts. "Watchers don't retire. Pretty sure it's in the bylaws. They gave a whole lecture on 'duty until death' at the Academy during orientation. You're not dead, Joe. Therefore you're not retiring."
"That's just for the new kids," Joe said with a smirk. "Check your old paystubs. You paid into a pension you're never getting."
"Son of a bitch," Methos muttered. "And here I am, thousands of years past retirement eligibility."
Joe shrugged. "Not my problem."
"So, wait," Mac said, getting up to come around behind the bar with Joe. "They're not forcing you into this, right? They're not trying to push you out because you broke rules and you talk to us and all that, right? This isn't my fault, is it?"
It was, in a way, but Joe wasn't about to go saying as much to MacLeod. He'd pushed a lot of boundaries in the organization over the years. He'd told Immortals about the Watchers. He'd protected Mac, given him information. Watchers didn't do that. But none of that was at the root of it now. Mostly it was just that Mac was too mobile these days and Joe just plain wasn't.
"Look, it's not your fault," Joe assured Mac. "And I promise, I hand picked my replacement. You'll like him. He's Scottish. Young. And a total trouble-maker at the Academy. They couldn't wait to foist him off on me for field training."
"So," Methos said, flicking a peanut towards Joe, who caught it. "What now?"
Joe shrugged. "I'm thinking I'll go visit some old friends from my Academy days. Maybe do a little traveling. Play some music. Enjoy being a tourist without having to point my camera at one of you guys."
Concerns allayed, at least temporarily, Mac let Joe finish setting up for the evening at the bar. Methos took off early and Mac found him camped out on his couch when he got back to the loft. His laptop was open on the kitchen counter and several empty beer bottles sat nearby but the old man was ensconced on the couch with a book open on his lap, ignoring MacLeod with all of his might.
"We should throw him a party," Mac said after waiting for a moment for Methos to acknowledge him. "While you're both still in town."
"A party?" Methos said, not looking up from his reading. "And who shall we invite? Us and the Watchers. Yes, that sounds like an awkward party to rival that time in Constantinople where... never mind. You don't want the sordid details."
Mac shook his head and went to shove Methos' feet off the couch so he could sit down. "Well, we should do something. We could take him out to dinner. I don't know. But this is Joe! Come on, Methos. I thought you two were friends?"
"We are friends," Methos assured him. He was still reading his book and Mac leaned over to see what it was, but whatever language it was written in, it wasn't one he knew. "But I'm not throwing him a retirement party."
Mac reached over and in one motion, flipped the book closed and snatched it away. "Methos. Why won't you help me do something nice for one of our friends?"
Methos tried once for the book, then gave up when Mac held it out of reach.
"Because it is bullshit," Methos told him. "Watchers don't retire and I don't care what Joe says. It's not just something they tell the new kids. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of field agents who lived to retirement age and didn't just get transferred to teaching positions at the Academy or research positions in one of the libraries. And do you know what happened to them?"
"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."
"They've got an Old Watchers Home in Tampa. I double checked before you got back. It's still up and running."
Mac almost argued. It was plain on his face that he wanted to. But in the end he didn't and merely settled for a deep sigh as he got up and went to get a beer of his own.
"Do you think Joe knows?"
Methos nodded. "Of course he does. You know him. He's putting on a brave face. But even with a brave face he still did that bluffing thing he does. He knows. They don't want retired Watchers hanging around where they can meddle without the Council's oversight and Joe all but handed himself over for his own trial and execution that one time. They might not think he's a good company man, but he's the best company man they've ever had."
The loft was silent for a few minutes while Methos went back to his book - discarded by Mac when he'd gotten up - and Mac pondered his options.
"Well," he said finally. "We could always kidnap him."
Methos grinned. "See, now you're on to something."
Two nights later...
Reservations made for a private room at one of the more expensive restaurants Seacouver had to offer, Methos and MacLeod pulled up outside the bar only to find that the new bartender hadn't seen or heard from Joe all day. They started to press him, but then Methos grabbed Mac's shoulder and dragged him away.
"What was that about?" he asked once they were outside, wrenching his shoulder back from Methos' grip.
"Watcher," Methos told him. "New place for the tattoo, but I saw it just under his shirt collar. Maybe they got to him before we did."
Mac swore and hurried back to his car, Methos close behind him. Joe's apartment wasn't far and when they got there they found it a mess. The back door was broken in and the bedroom was a mess. But as they looked through the wreckage Methos frowned, picking up a few books and then going to dig through Joe's desk.
"It's not the Watchers," he told Mac. "See? They left chronicles and his laptop. They'd never have left any of this behind. Certainly not with us around. We're far too nosy." As he spoke he flipped through one of the chronicles he'd found, then pocketed it inside his coat. Then he pocketed another and grabbed the laptop. "So it's got to be someone else. Ever get the feeling we should just keep him with one of us at all times, just in case? He's far too easy to use against us. This is why I try not to form attachments, but I'm just so tenderhearted."
"Yeah, you're tenderhearted as a pit viper," Mac muttered. "If he's being used against either of us, we'll find out who's got him as soon as they find us."
"And here we are presenting ourselves! How thoughtful of us!" Methos turned on the laptop and logged in with Joe's password.
"What are you doing?" MacLeod demanded. "Joe needs us!"
"If there are any new Immortals in town, they'll be noted on here. And I never pass up a chance to take a browse through the database. You know, keep my hand in. We're not going to find him ourselves, you know. Not without some hints."
Mac glowered at that, but didn't argue, choosing instead to draw his sword and pace.
Meanwhile, nearby...
"You really are pathetic," Joe snapped at the young-looking man sitting at a desk in the corner of the garage down the street from his apartment. "Kidnapping a disabled old man? What kind of bull is that? You want to challenge someone, at least stick to tradition, man. This is just weak."
"Shut up," the man said without turning around. "It's their own fault for making themselves easy targets."
"Oh sure, they're the easy targets. You're the one practically announcing to local police in every state that they've got a beheading serial killer on the loose. That's sure a great way of staying under the radar."
"Shut up," the man repeated as he worked at something on his computer. He still hadn't turned around and didn't seem to care that Joe knew about his police record. Maybe he didn't care that he even had one. He'd taken away Joe's prosthetics, but hadn't thought to pat him down, with only dropped him in Joe's estimation. If he could just keep him annoyed enough to continue trying to ignore his own kidnapping victim, Joe figured he could be out of the cuffs in another minute or two.
"So what are you gonna try?" he asked. "Gonna tell them both to just kneel and offer their heads or you'll shoot me or something? Cause I can guarantee to you that they've been down that road before and it did not end well for the guy who tried it. Do your homework. These guys aren't easy marks. In fact, why even bother trying with two of them? You can't very well take 'em both at the same time and the other'll kick your ass while you're still throwing sparks." And yep, there went the handcuffs. Joe moved carefully to keep things quiet but his gun was just tucked in its holster. Easy as pie.
This time the man didn't even bother telling him to shut up. He just shifted a little to pick up a phone. Joe caught a glimpse of his computer screen while his kidnapper was leaning to the side and spotted his own apartment, with two very familiar figures visible on camera. Methos looked like he was using Joe's own laptop, the incorrigible ass.
Joe silently pulled out his gun, aimed and fired just as the man lifted the phone to his ear. Head injuries were always a bitch to heal from, so Joe figured he had some time to get his legs back and lock the jackass up with his own cuffs.
And back at the apartment...
The phone had only rung once before it was in Mac's hand and answered.
"Hello? Joe?" he said quickly and was answered by what was unmistakably the sound of a gun firing. "Joe? Joe! Are you okay? Damn you, if you've hurt him... Who are you? What do you want?"
Methos had set aside the laptop and gone over to the back window of the living room.
"Mac?" he said, looking out the window down the alley behind Joe's building.
"Shh! Joe? Are you there? Damn it! Tell me who you are!"
"Mac!" Methos said again, sharper this time. "I heard that shot. From outside. He's got to be nearby."
"If you've hurt him," Mac said, putting as much menace into it as he could muster. "If you've hurt him, I will make you pay."
Methos sighed and slipped out the back door of the apartment, jumping down the stairs of the fire escape and heading down the road to a garage that looked like it should have been condemned at least twenty years back. He wasn't far down the road when the door slammed behind him and Mac hurried to catch up.
"I just heard some scraping and other noises," Mac confided. "You think he's down here?"
Methos nodded, reaching into his coat for his gun. He and Mac flanked the garage's door, then Mac kicked it in and rushed through.
Inside they found a fascinating sight. Joe was finishing strapping on his left leg while a handcuffed Immortal was just coming around on the floor next to a desk.
"Oh look, the cavalry," Joe said calmly. "One of you can deal with Mr. Chatterbox there. And I'm not reporting it, cause I'm damn well retired."
"Seriously?" Methos asked. "Because I didn't think Tampa was your style."
"Screw Tampa," Joe snapped. "Why the hell would I go to Tampa? I'm not letting them pack me away. I'm doing just what I said."
"But you were bluffing!" Methos protested.
Joe grinned. "Was I? Come on. Finish up. I'm starving and you two mentioned a retirement dinner. Least you can do to make up for getting me kidnapped. Again."
Methos shrugged. "Seems fitting, really. We could start a whole new Watcher retirement tradition."
"Oh, they'll love that," Joe said as he made his way out of the garage. "Make sure and clean up. It's not my job anymore, remember. I'll meet you at the car."
END