Happy Holidays, tallterror!
Title: Non, niet, no
Author: Jingle Christmas Hats
Written for: Julie (tallterror
Characters/Pairings: Methos, Duncan MacLeod, Amanda Darieux, Joe Dawson
Rating: PG
Summary: Just say no.
Non, Niet, No
“I don’t understand why this keeps happening to me,” Duncan said. “I mean, I’m a good person, aren’t I? So why do I always end up in these situations?”
With a long, dramatic yawn, Methos opened an eye and smirked knowingly at the pout on the Highlander’s face - which the only part of him that was now visible as the rest of him was below his field of vision, in the hole he was digging for himself.
“Oh, you’re a fine, upstanding Immortal, MacLeod, one of the very best… you’ve just been brought low by the love of a devious women.” Methos pulled another ale from his cooler, popped off the cap and took a long sip. Duncan scowled at him as he settled back on the car hood.
“Aye, the love of a devious woman and his good for nothing, conniving friend,” he grumbled, as he rammed the shovel into the earth and then, with an evil glint in his eye, twisted and tossed the contents of the spade on top of Methos’s head.
Methos spluttered, spitting out dirt as he brushed off his clothes. “That was uncalled for,” he protested.
“Oh, I don’t know, I actually think it was a pretty good call myself,” Duncan drawled.
Methos’s eyes narrowed. “Well, excuse me. Which one of us successfully broke into Joe’s new office, and hacked his new computer passcode-”
“Hacked!” Duncan snorted. “He had it taped to bottom of his stapler-"
"Semantics,” Methos declared. “The fact stands that you came to me for help and I came through. Just because my information resulted in you having to resort to physical labour-”
“You could help me right here, you know!” Duncan said, waving at another shovel lying on the grass.
“Oh please,,” Methos sniffed “There are limits to my largesse.” A dull distant knocking interrupted them and Duncan looked down under his feet.
“Could you two stop arguing for a moment and get me the hell out of here?” Amanda’s muffled voice said.
Duncan tapped down with the spade and heard the echo of wood.”Well, looks like I found her,” he said, and Methos rolled his eyes as he settled back onto his perch and finished his beer.
~8~
It had all started out innocuously enough - a rather offhand comment Joe had made about the Pink Panther gang, who'd hit another casino in Monte Carlo that weekend - but for some strange reason, Amanda had gotten it into her head that it had been some sort of challenge and the next thing they all knew, she was planning a jewel heist so bloody elaborate that Methos had cynically wondered if she had managed to find a way to put a cherry on top of it.
“Is she having some kind of mid-millennial crisis or something?” Joe had said to him behind a hand as Amanda attempted to draw an alarm system on a couple of napkins at the bar.
“If she is, she’s five centuries too late,” Methos told him, shrugging, and Joe had muttered sopmething about Immortals giving him a headache and how he wished they'd plan their felonies in some other joint.
~8~
Methos realised somewhat belatedly that things may have gone a little out of hand, when he tuned in one night and realised who Amanda was planning to steal from.
“Have you lost your mind?” he hissed, when Joe wandered out of earshot. “He’s an Immortal!”
“Will you relax,” Amanda said. “I checked with Joe. Wilbur Krupps hasn’t taken a head since the seventies - the eighteen seventies!”
“Wilbur Krupps may not have, but his alter ego, Krune the Visigoth, is still a pillaging, head hunting bastard who likes to take trips out of town every once in awhile to top up his headcount,” Methos said. ”He practices his beheading skills more often than most businessmen practice their golf swing.”
Amanda’s glass stilled on its way to her lips but then she shrugged. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” she sniffed.
Methos rolled his eyes. “I’m not arranging your funeral,” he warned her.
“Oh please, as if I’d leave such an important occasion in your hands.”
~8~
“So, I’m in Berlin,” Duncan said. “And I can’t get through to Amanda.”
“Amanda is incommunicado? That has never happened before,” Methos mocked. “We’d better file a missing person’s report….wait, why are you in Berlin?”
“Um...being a decoy?” Duncan said, sounding slightly embarrassed.
Methos groaned. “Please, please tell me you didn’t let Amanda convince you into leading Krune on a merry dance.”
“...Amanda didn’t convince me to lead Krune on a merry dance?”
“Really, MacLeod? You’re over four centuries old. Shouldn’t you be able to say no by now?”
“You know how she is,” he said mulishly. “You say no but she doesn’t hear it and you just end up doing what she asks just to shut her up.” Actually, Methos didn’t know what it was like. He was very good at saying no to Amanda…. Duncan was a different story, however.
“I’m not doing it,” he preemptively said.
“Doing what?”
Whatever piece of stupidity you’re about to ask me to do, of course, he thought glumly, but he listened anyway.
~8~
Klune knew about the Watchers, quite a few of the older Immortals did. Not all Watchers are the masters of stealth and disguise they think they are, and if you will insist on wearing a weird symbol around your neck or tattooed into your skin, chances are people are going to notice. Darius had known about them, as had Rebecca, but so did a few of the more unsavoury Immortals like Krune.
Luckily for the Parisian Watchers, Klune was also a fan of the long game, and so was happy to pull the wool over their eyes instead of plucking them out. That will probably change when it becomes advantageous for him but until then they were relatively safe… and absolutely clueless. What that means is that, while Klune is gallivanting around Berlin, his Watcher is milling around his house with a vaguely bemused look on his face.
But perhaps he had spotted a certain other wily Immortal sneaking around the property.
~8~
And that is how Methos found himself getting drunk on Duncan’s car hood as he dug up a fuming Amanda, who sported three blood stained bullet holes right over her heart.
“Excellent grouping,” Methos mused. “Ex-military, I presume.”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed as she poked him in the chest with one narrow finger. “This. Is. All. Your. Fault.”
“What? No it isn’t,” Methos spluttered. “I did nothing!”
“Exactly!” Amanda said triumphantly. There was a soft thump and both of them turned to look at Duncan, who was still in the hole, his head now resting on his crossed arms, which were leaning on the grassy edge of the grave, his head lifted slightly and then thumped back down onto his arms.
“Now see what you've done to him?” Amanda said, rounding on Methos. “All your fault!”
Methos’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said in a final tone. Amanda smirked, tilting her head towards Duncan and then waggling her eyebrows smugly.
“The answer is still no,” he said, in a singsong voice.”Absolutely not!"
~8~
The air was muggy and smelled of fresh earth when Methos eventually came to. To top it off, he was surrounded by a pitch blackness that was unnervingly familiar. Gingerly, he lifted his fingers in front of him and felt them press against the untreated pine of a makeshift coffin lid.
“But of course,” Methos muttered.
He was calculating how much air he had left when there was a soft grunt beside him. He let out a little yelp of surprise.
“Just five more minutes,” Duncan grunted and Methos bit back a groan as he reached out to his left and felt MacLeod’s body crammed up against side of the pine box.
“Amanda?” he called out tentatively, as he reached to his right. There was nothing but more pine wood. “Of course,” he muttered to himself. The only one who knew where they were was Amanda, who was most likely on her way to Singapore, trying to outrun Krune’s reach, with his ruby collection clutched in her grubby, greedy hands. She’d come looking for them, eventually, but until then…
“I spy?” he asked aloud.
A gentle thump of a head hitting a pine plank was his only answer.
He supposed it was better than no.
The End
Author: Jingle Christmas Hats
Written for: Julie (tallterror
Characters/Pairings: Methos, Duncan MacLeod, Amanda Darieux, Joe Dawson
Rating: PG
Summary: Just say no.
Non, Niet, No
“I don’t understand why this keeps happening to me,” Duncan said. “I mean, I’m a good person, aren’t I? So why do I always end up in these situations?”
With a long, dramatic yawn, Methos opened an eye and smirked knowingly at the pout on the Highlander’s face - which the only part of him that was now visible as the rest of him was below his field of vision, in the hole he was digging for himself.
“Oh, you’re a fine, upstanding Immortal, MacLeod, one of the very best… you’ve just been brought low by the love of a devious women.” Methos pulled another ale from his cooler, popped off the cap and took a long sip. Duncan scowled at him as he settled back on the car hood.
“Aye, the love of a devious woman and his good for nothing, conniving friend,” he grumbled, as he rammed the shovel into the earth and then, with an evil glint in his eye, twisted and tossed the contents of the spade on top of Methos’s head.
Methos spluttered, spitting out dirt as he brushed off his clothes. “That was uncalled for,” he protested.
“Oh, I don’t know, I actually think it was a pretty good call myself,” Duncan drawled.
Methos’s eyes narrowed. “Well, excuse me. Which one of us successfully broke into Joe’s new office, and hacked his new computer passcode-”
“Hacked!” Duncan snorted. “He had it taped to bottom of his stapler-"
"Semantics,” Methos declared. “The fact stands that you came to me for help and I came through. Just because my information resulted in you having to resort to physical labour-”
“You could help me right here, you know!” Duncan said, waving at another shovel lying on the grass.
“Oh please,,” Methos sniffed “There are limits to my largesse.” A dull distant knocking interrupted them and Duncan looked down under his feet.
“Could you two stop arguing for a moment and get me the hell out of here?” Amanda’s muffled voice said.
Duncan tapped down with the spade and heard the echo of wood.”Well, looks like I found her,” he said, and Methos rolled his eyes as he settled back onto his perch and finished his beer.
~8~
It had all started out innocuously enough - a rather offhand comment Joe had made about the Pink Panther gang, who'd hit another casino in Monte Carlo that weekend - but for some strange reason, Amanda had gotten it into her head that it had been some sort of challenge and the next thing they all knew, she was planning a jewel heist so bloody elaborate that Methos had cynically wondered if she had managed to find a way to put a cherry on top of it.
“Is she having some kind of mid-millennial crisis or something?” Joe had said to him behind a hand as Amanda attempted to draw an alarm system on a couple of napkins at the bar.
“If she is, she’s five centuries too late,” Methos told him, shrugging, and Joe had muttered sopmething about Immortals giving him a headache and how he wished they'd plan their felonies in some other joint.
~8~
Methos realised somewhat belatedly that things may have gone a little out of hand, when he tuned in one night and realised who Amanda was planning to steal from.
“Have you lost your mind?” he hissed, when Joe wandered out of earshot. “He’s an Immortal!”
“Will you relax,” Amanda said. “I checked with Joe. Wilbur Krupps hasn’t taken a head since the seventies - the eighteen seventies!”
“Wilbur Krupps may not have, but his alter ego, Krune the Visigoth, is still a pillaging, head hunting bastard who likes to take trips out of town every once in awhile to top up his headcount,” Methos said. ”He practices his beheading skills more often than most businessmen practice their golf swing.”
Amanda’s glass stilled on its way to her lips but then she shrugged. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” she sniffed.
Methos rolled his eyes. “I’m not arranging your funeral,” he warned her.
“Oh please, as if I’d leave such an important occasion in your hands.”
~8~
“So, I’m in Berlin,” Duncan said. “And I can’t get through to Amanda.”
“Amanda is incommunicado? That has never happened before,” Methos mocked. “We’d better file a missing person’s report….wait, why are you in Berlin?”
“Um...being a decoy?” Duncan said, sounding slightly embarrassed.
Methos groaned. “Please, please tell me you didn’t let Amanda convince you into leading Krune on a merry dance.”
“...Amanda didn’t convince me to lead Krune on a merry dance?”
“Really, MacLeod? You’re over four centuries old. Shouldn’t you be able to say no by now?”
“You know how she is,” he said mulishly. “You say no but she doesn’t hear it and you just end up doing what she asks just to shut her up.” Actually, Methos didn’t know what it was like. He was very good at saying no to Amanda…. Duncan was a different story, however.
“I’m not doing it,” he preemptively said.
“Doing what?”
Whatever piece of stupidity you’re about to ask me to do, of course, he thought glumly, but he listened anyway.
~8~
Klune knew about the Watchers, quite a few of the older Immortals did. Not all Watchers are the masters of stealth and disguise they think they are, and if you will insist on wearing a weird symbol around your neck or tattooed into your skin, chances are people are going to notice. Darius had known about them, as had Rebecca, but so did a few of the more unsavoury Immortals like Krune.
Luckily for the Parisian Watchers, Klune was also a fan of the long game, and so was happy to pull the wool over their eyes instead of plucking them out. That will probably change when it becomes advantageous for him but until then they were relatively safe… and absolutely clueless. What that means is that, while Klune is gallivanting around Berlin, his Watcher is milling around his house with a vaguely bemused look on his face.
But perhaps he had spotted a certain other wily Immortal sneaking around the property.
~8~
And that is how Methos found himself getting drunk on Duncan’s car hood as he dug up a fuming Amanda, who sported three blood stained bullet holes right over her heart.
“Excellent grouping,” Methos mused. “Ex-military, I presume.”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed as she poked him in the chest with one narrow finger. “This. Is. All. Your. Fault.”
“What? No it isn’t,” Methos spluttered. “I did nothing!”
“Exactly!” Amanda said triumphantly. There was a soft thump and both of them turned to look at Duncan, who was still in the hole, his head now resting on his crossed arms, which were leaning on the grassy edge of the grave, his head lifted slightly and then thumped back down onto his arms.
“Now see what you've done to him?” Amanda said, rounding on Methos. “All your fault!”
Methos’s eyes narrowed. “No,” he said in a final tone. Amanda smirked, tilting her head towards Duncan and then waggling her eyebrows smugly.
“The answer is still no,” he said, in a singsong voice.”Absolutely not!"
~8~
The air was muggy and smelled of fresh earth when Methos eventually came to. To top it off, he was surrounded by a pitch blackness that was unnervingly familiar. Gingerly, he lifted his fingers in front of him and felt them press against the untreated pine of a makeshift coffin lid.
“But of course,” Methos muttered.
He was calculating how much air he had left when there was a soft grunt beside him. He let out a little yelp of surprise.
“Just five more minutes,” Duncan grunted and Methos bit back a groan as he reached out to his left and felt MacLeod’s body crammed up against side of the pine box.
“Amanda?” he called out tentatively, as he reached to his right. There was nothing but more pine wood. “Of course,” he muttered to himself. The only one who knew where they were was Amanda, who was most likely on her way to Singapore, trying to outrun Krune’s reach, with his ruby collection clutched in her grubby, greedy hands. She’d come looking for them, eventually, but until then…
“I spy?” he asked aloud.
A gentle thump of a head hitting a pine plank was his only answer.
He supposed it was better than no.
The End