Belated Birthday Fic Highlander/NCIS/NCIS:LA crossover 1/1
This is a birthday fic for hollymac_79 who asked for Methos and Gibbs, hope you enjoy the fic. This is set following the events of the NCIS:LA episode 'Burned' (the ep Peter Wingfield was in) and contains spoilers for that episode. It's ostensibly set in the Watcher!Abby universe, but has no real bearing on the storyline of that.
Thank you to strangevisitor7 for the beta.
Disclaimer:Not mine, never was never will be.
Saving Burning Bridges
Methos awoke to feel the cold metal of a morgue drawer underneath him. He hadn’t planned on Callen shooting him, but with Eugene Keelson dead he was free to move on without looking over his shoulder. He opened his eyes and found Leroy Jethro Gibbs glaring down at him. Methos let out a small sigh, and then tensed as he felt the cold press of a blade against his throat.
“I trusted you,” Gibbs said in a low voice that was almost a growl.
“Have I done something to offend you, Agent Gibbs?” Methos asked; his cool tone masking his uneasiness at the vulnerable position he was in.
“Don’t play games. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you,” Gibbs replied and pressed the blade a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw blood.
Methos knew exactly why Gibbs was so pissed, he must have seen the reports of what had happened here in LA. He wasn’t sure he could give an answer that wouldn’t just piss off Gibbs even further.
“How about the fact that my Quickening would most likely destroy this building and everyone in it?” he answered. He wasn’t sure that was true, but who knew what could happen, especially with no Immortal around to absorb it.
Gibbs thought about this a moment and then withdrew the blade, allowing Methos to sit up.
“Sensible,” the Immortal commented. He noted with a measure of discomfort that the blade was a marine issue boot knife. Of all the ways to be decapitated, that would certainly be unpleasant. Gibbs sheathed the knife and pulled out his sidearm.
“Nothing to stop me from shooting you and taking you somewhere else. Now, start talking,” Gibbs demanded and cocked his weapon.
“I owed someone a favour.”
Methos saw Gibbs’ finger tense on the trigger.
“Who? Who could you owe that to?”
There was a polite cough from the direction of the doorway and both men turned to see the diminutive head of the NCIS Los Angeles’ branch.
“That would be me,” she answered Gibbs and walked into the room.
“Hettie?” Gibbs exclaimed and lowered his gun.
“I’m sorry, Jethro, but this was an operation, fully sanctioned by Director Vance,” she explained as she came closer. “Although Leon did not know the details of the op, I left those to my old friend here. That way I would be as completely unprepared as everyone else. It was necessary to establish if NCIS had been compromised and how we would react if that situation arose.”
“But why him?” Gibbs jerked a thumb in Methos’ direction.
“I required someone with Mr. Keelson’s skill set and, as he told you, he owed me,” Hettie replied. “And now we are even. Thank you,” she added to Methos.
“You are welcome,” he said as he hopped off the drawer. He planted a chaste and affectionate kiss on her forehead. “You know I’d always help you, favour or no.”
“Be careful, old friend, I might just old you to that,” she replied with a mischievous grin. Methos chuckled.
Methos looked over to Gibbs, who seemed confused and still pissed, but all his righteous fury had drained out of him with Hettie’s admission.
“You can shoot me if it’ll make you feel better, this shirt’s already ruined,” Methos offered, tugging at the blood-stained holes left by Agent Callen.
“Don’t tempt me,” Gibbs answered, but he was putting his gun back in its holster as he spoke. He turned his attention back to Hettie before adding “We need to talk.”
“Agreed. But first let me escort Mr Keelson from the building,” she replied. Gibbs took a moment to think then nodded, though he seemed reluctant. Methos couldn’t really blame him.
“I’ll wait in your office,” Gibbs said and left.
Hettie passed Methos a clean set of clothes, which he took gratefully and began to put on. As he stripped, Hettie chuckled.
“I see you’re still as shy as ever,” she commented.
“It didn’t used to make you laugh,” Methos replied. Hettie ducked her head, but Methos could see the grin on her face through her bobbed hair.
“That was a long time ago, Methos,” she said and looked up into his eyes. He looked down at her, then knelt and cupped her chin with one hand.
“Not to me,” he said softly. He kissed her again, but this one was not at all chaste. She kissed him back briefly, but then she pulled away.
“Come on, get dressed. Gibbs doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she said. Her tone was firm and all business, but as she turned away Methos could see the moisture glistening in her eyes.
“I know that all too well,” he quipped. He finished buttoning his shirt and coughed to let Hettie know he was done. As she guided him out of the building, Methos was lost in the memory of their time in Budapest. Forty years had passed, and the vibrant young woman he once knew was now the determined matriarch who had come to him to ask a favour. But he still saw the woman he had loved, who had saved his life. As they reached the door, Hettie laid a hand on his arm.
“Methos, I have to ask… the information on Callen?”
“It’s good. It took some digging, and calling in a lot of favours, but the information is genuine. I hope he can find some peace with it,” Methos replied.
“So do I. Goodbye old friend. And thank you again,” Hettie said. Methos leaned down and kissed her once more before straightening and walking out the door.
Thank you to strangevisitor7 for the beta.
Disclaimer:Not mine, never was never will be.
Saving Burning Bridges
Methos awoke to feel the cold metal of a morgue drawer underneath him. He hadn’t planned on Callen shooting him, but with Eugene Keelson dead he was free to move on without looking over his shoulder. He opened his eyes and found Leroy Jethro Gibbs glaring down at him. Methos let out a small sigh, and then tensed as he felt the cold press of a blade against his throat.
“I trusted you,” Gibbs said in a low voice that was almost a growl.
“Have I done something to offend you, Agent Gibbs?” Methos asked; his cool tone masking his uneasiness at the vulnerable position he was in.
“Don’t play games. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you,” Gibbs replied and pressed the blade a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw blood.
Methos knew exactly why Gibbs was so pissed, he must have seen the reports of what had happened here in LA. He wasn’t sure he could give an answer that wouldn’t just piss off Gibbs even further.
“How about the fact that my Quickening would most likely destroy this building and everyone in it?” he answered. He wasn’t sure that was true, but who knew what could happen, especially with no Immortal around to absorb it.
Gibbs thought about this a moment and then withdrew the blade, allowing Methos to sit up.
“Sensible,” the Immortal commented. He noted with a measure of discomfort that the blade was a marine issue boot knife. Of all the ways to be decapitated, that would certainly be unpleasant. Gibbs sheathed the knife and pulled out his sidearm.
“Nothing to stop me from shooting you and taking you somewhere else. Now, start talking,” Gibbs demanded and cocked his weapon.
“I owed someone a favour.”
Methos saw Gibbs’ finger tense on the trigger.
“Who? Who could you owe that to?”
There was a polite cough from the direction of the doorway and both men turned to see the diminutive head of the NCIS Los Angeles’ branch.
“That would be me,” she answered Gibbs and walked into the room.
“Hettie?” Gibbs exclaimed and lowered his gun.
“I’m sorry, Jethro, but this was an operation, fully sanctioned by Director Vance,” she explained as she came closer. “Although Leon did not know the details of the op, I left those to my old friend here. That way I would be as completely unprepared as everyone else. It was necessary to establish if NCIS had been compromised and how we would react if that situation arose.”
“But why him?” Gibbs jerked a thumb in Methos’ direction.
“I required someone with Mr. Keelson’s skill set and, as he told you, he owed me,” Hettie replied. “And now we are even. Thank you,” she added to Methos.
“You are welcome,” he said as he hopped off the drawer. He planted a chaste and affectionate kiss on her forehead. “You know I’d always help you, favour or no.”
“Be careful, old friend, I might just old you to that,” she replied with a mischievous grin. Methos chuckled.
Methos looked over to Gibbs, who seemed confused and still pissed, but all his righteous fury had drained out of him with Hettie’s admission.
“You can shoot me if it’ll make you feel better, this shirt’s already ruined,” Methos offered, tugging at the blood-stained holes left by Agent Callen.
“Don’t tempt me,” Gibbs answered, but he was putting his gun back in its holster as he spoke. He turned his attention back to Hettie before adding “We need to talk.”
“Agreed. But first let me escort Mr Keelson from the building,” she replied. Gibbs took a moment to think then nodded, though he seemed reluctant. Methos couldn’t really blame him.
“I’ll wait in your office,” Gibbs said and left.
Hettie passed Methos a clean set of clothes, which he took gratefully and began to put on. As he stripped, Hettie chuckled.
“I see you’re still as shy as ever,” she commented.
“It didn’t used to make you laugh,” Methos replied. Hettie ducked her head, but Methos could see the grin on her face through her bobbed hair.
“That was a long time ago, Methos,” she said and looked up into his eyes. He looked down at her, then knelt and cupped her chin with one hand.
“Not to me,” he said softly. He kissed her again, but this one was not at all chaste. She kissed him back briefly, but then she pulled away.
“Come on, get dressed. Gibbs doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she said. Her tone was firm and all business, but as she turned away Methos could see the moisture glistening in her eyes.
“I know that all too well,” he quipped. He finished buttoning his shirt and coughed to let Hettie know he was done. As she guided him out of the building, Methos was lost in the memory of their time in Budapest. Forty years had passed, and the vibrant young woman he once knew was now the determined matriarch who had come to him to ask a favour. But he still saw the woman he had loved, who had saved his life. As they reached the door, Hettie laid a hand on his arm.
“Methos, I have to ask… the information on Callen?”
“It’s good. It took some digging, and calling in a lot of favours, but the information is genuine. I hope he can find some peace with it,” Methos replied.
“So do I. Goodbye old friend. And thank you again,” Hettie said. Methos leaned down and kissed her once more before straightening and walking out the door.