Fic: This Side of the Truth 1/3 [G] Dresden Files/Highlander crossover
Title: This Side of the Truth
Author: A Lanart
Fandom/Genre: Dresden Files/Highlander crossover. TV verse Dresden with bookverse cameos.
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Pairing/Characters: Harry and McAnally from DF, Methos and Amanda from HL
Summary: McAnally has more in common with Harry's new friends than Harry realises.
Disclaimer: Dresden Files stuff is the property of Jim Butcher and the scifi channel.
Highlander stuff is the property of Panzer/Davies productions
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.
Title nicked from the song of the same name by MELT
A/N: Part of the With Friends Like These... series. Direct sequel to A Breakdown in Comprehension?
*
McAnally’s Pub is many things to many people, not least of which is being the source of probably the best beer in Chicago. Mac would no doubt give me one of his glares if he heard me saying probably as I’m sure to his mind there is no probably about it. He could be right, in fact he probably *is* right but I haven’t drunk enough beer in other places in Chicago to make an unbiased assessment. Most importantly to me, and many other members of the magical community both human and otherwise, McAnally’s is a place where you can feel completely at ease in your skin - a home from home if you like - and the beer is just an amazing bonus. I have no idea what the place was like before McAnally took over because to me it seems like he’s *always* been there, making the place a comforting escape from a world and a life that doesn’t always make sense. Turns out that ‘seems like he’s always been there’ isn’t that far wrong. Wizards can perceive things that other people don’t of course, but I’m not going to try to fool myself into thinking that somehow, in some way, I knew McAnally’s secret all along. I didn’t, and finding out was another big surprise in a day that had been full of them.
Bear in mind that I was already rattled to say the least - it isn’t every day that you discover that non-magical immortals really do exist and that they can be both dangerously attractive and attractively dangerous - and you’ll realise that I was functioning like I was a few fries short of a happy meal.
Oh I had my cues that something weird was going on; the look that Adam and Amanda gave each other as they hesitated momentarily before going through the door into the main part of the pub along with the curious little twitch of their shoulders they both did before continuing should have alerted even me to the fact that in common with the rest of the day, things were not as they seemed. I noticed, but it didn’t register as anything special; I thought it was just another weird immortal thing that I wouldn’t understand. I was right, but not in the way I originally thought. What I didn’t miss was the expression on McAnally’s face as we all emerged into the bar; I wish I had as it made me rethink an awful lot of things about my friend.
The best way to describe Mac is nondescript; he’s tall but not unusually so, he’s not particularly thin or fat, his face has a reassuring lived in look and even his eyes are kind of an indeterminate shade between brown and grey. I have no idea what colour his hair is as he shaves it all off and I’m not fool enough to ask him about it. All in all, he has an ultimately non-threatening air about him, which is kind of important when you consider the clientele he can get in the bar.
The look I caught in McAnally’s eyes that day was the polar opposite of unthreatening and made me take a step backwards, as far into the shadows as I could, where I would not be seen so easily.
“This is Holy Ground,” Mac said as he nodded toward the sign that announced the place was neutral ground according to the Unseelie Accords. “There will be no trouble here.” I have never heard him sound so determined in all my life, but then again, Mac doesn’t say an awful lot most of the time. There was an audible intake of breath in front of me - it could have been either Adam or Amanda - and then Adam stepped forward.
“Why on earth would I want to cause trouble Seán Mac an Fhailghigh?” He asked. Mac narrowed his eyes and frowned, and I really didn’t like the expression on his face as he glared at Adam. I sank further back into the shadows, and was surprised when Amanda joined me, giving me a sickly grin and a shrug when I mouthed ‘what?’ at her. I guess she had no idea what was going on either. I turned my attention back to Adam and Mac and I found myself feeling very glad that there appeared to be nobody else in sight. Mac was still glaring, one hand hidden behind the bar, the other oh-so-casually resting on the polished wood surface and I found myself wondering what else he kept behind the bar for use in times of trouble besides the shillelagh I knew about. For his part Adam seemed unconcerned, from what I could tell by staring at his back, and his stance suggested that he was totally relaxed. I didn’t actually believe that was true for one minute; from what the guy had told me his life depended on being ready for anything at all times even if he did live by the adage of ‘run, not fight’ as he’d said earlier.
“Why would you want to cause trouble?” Mac echoed. “Because you can, of course. What other reason would you need?” His gaze was stony and unyielding, almost frightening in fact. This was not McAnally as I knew him - bar owner, brewer of beer and man of few words - and I didn’t like it.
“I think you’re confusing me with someone else, my friend,” Adam said gently, his tone of voice the sort you’d use on a skittish animal. For some reason I thought of horses, which made no sense to me at all. Nothing new there, then.
“I’m no friend of yours,” Mac announced. Adam shifted slightly, as if he were preparing to move forward.
“Are you so sure of that?” He continued to speak softly, but I had no problem hearing every word. “It was a long time ago; maybe your memory is failing... Brother John.” With the last two words Adam stepped fully into the light. The effect on Mac was instantaneous - he burst out laughing, both of his hands now resting on the bar. I’ve never seen Mac laugh like that, abandoning himself completely to sheer mirth and joy; it made him look a damn sight less nondescript, I have to admit. Still chuckling he made his way around the bar and grasped Adam’s wrist in greeting.
“You old fraud! Have you come to drink all my beer?”
Even from my position behind him, I could tell Adam was grinning. “Something like that,” he said. “I was given a personal recommendation...” He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, which Mac followed.
“Oh, it’s you,” Mac said when he spotted me. “Stop skulking where I can’t see you properly, Harry, and come explain just *how* you ran into ‘Brother Mathew’ here.”
With a quick glance at each other, Amanda and I slowly emerged from the concealing shadows. Mac frowned slightly at her and she gave him the faintest of nods. I began to feel at a distinct disadvantage. I bit my tongue before I said anything I might regret permanently and sidled over to the bar, where Mac was producing bottles of beer with a bit more of an extra flourish than usual. I cleared my throat experimentally and tried to block out the vision of Adam’s sardonically raised eyebrow.
“Uh, Mac... are you... you know... like them?” I waved a hand vaguely in Both Adam and Amanda’s direction. I couldn’t bring myself to say the word ‘immortal’ at all. Saying it would mean I was recognising that Mac wasn’t who or what I thought he had been and I wasn’t quite ready for that. To my eternal discomfort, Mac had no such problem.
“You mean immortal?” He asked bluntly.
I winced, but nodded my reply.
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“Oh hell,” I muttered, wondering just how I was going to get past this without the distance a bottle or four would give me. I couldn’t afford to drink to forget, and Mac knew that - he held my tab. Someone took pity on me though, as a bottle was wordlessly pressed into my hand. I began to protest but was shushed by Amanda.
“Don’t think, just drink. You aren’t paying for this.” I complied swiftly; I might have been stuck someplace between fear, denial and generally falling apart but I was still together enough not to question good fortune twice, plus I got the impression that Amanda at least sympathised with me.
I applied myself to drinking Mac’s beer with a sense of purpose - the purpose being to get to a state of inebriation where the impossible day might actually begin to make sense and I could *talk* about it. I realised that by the time I could talk about it, I might not be physically able to talk about it but I really didn’t care and not even the thought of Bob’s unholy glee about me having a hangover was enough to make me think twice about my decision to lose my incipient hysteria in the bottom of a beer bottle or two. Or Four. Or more.
I guess it’s no surprise that I don’t remember the next couple of hours that clearly, but from what I do remember, that’s no bad thing. I just wish I could forget some of the more unfortunate bits, like me singing, but all I can say in my defence is that I’m fairly certain that the singing wasn’t my idea. It wasn’t long after the singing that my brain decided it had had more than enough, and shut down which meant I was left with no other option than to rest my head on my arms where they lay on the bar clinging to an empty beer bottle like a talisman and shut my eyes. I wasn’t asleep, being asleep would have been infinitely preferable, but I really couldn’t take the strain any more at that point and I had to escape somehow as walking out of the pub under my own steam probably wasn’t an option.
Part Two
Author: A Lanart
Fandom/Genre: Dresden Files/Highlander crossover. TV verse Dresden with bookverse cameos.
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Pairing/Characters: Harry and McAnally from DF, Methos and Amanda from HL
Summary: McAnally has more in common with Harry's new friends than Harry realises.
Disclaimer: Dresden Files stuff is the property of Jim Butcher and the scifi channel.
Highlander stuff is the property of Panzer/Davies productions
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.
Title nicked from the song of the same name by MELT
A/N: Part of the With Friends Like These... series. Direct sequel to A Breakdown in Comprehension?
*
McAnally’s Pub is many things to many people, not least of which is being the source of probably the best beer in Chicago. Mac would no doubt give me one of his glares if he heard me saying probably as I’m sure to his mind there is no probably about it. He could be right, in fact he probably *is* right but I haven’t drunk enough beer in other places in Chicago to make an unbiased assessment. Most importantly to me, and many other members of the magical community both human and otherwise, McAnally’s is a place where you can feel completely at ease in your skin - a home from home if you like - and the beer is just an amazing bonus. I have no idea what the place was like before McAnally took over because to me it seems like he’s *always* been there, making the place a comforting escape from a world and a life that doesn’t always make sense. Turns out that ‘seems like he’s always been there’ isn’t that far wrong. Wizards can perceive things that other people don’t of course, but I’m not going to try to fool myself into thinking that somehow, in some way, I knew McAnally’s secret all along. I didn’t, and finding out was another big surprise in a day that had been full of them.
Bear in mind that I was already rattled to say the least - it isn’t every day that you discover that non-magical immortals really do exist and that they can be both dangerously attractive and attractively dangerous - and you’ll realise that I was functioning like I was a few fries short of a happy meal.
Oh I had my cues that something weird was going on; the look that Adam and Amanda gave each other as they hesitated momentarily before going through the door into the main part of the pub along with the curious little twitch of their shoulders they both did before continuing should have alerted even me to the fact that in common with the rest of the day, things were not as they seemed. I noticed, but it didn’t register as anything special; I thought it was just another weird immortal thing that I wouldn’t understand. I was right, but not in the way I originally thought. What I didn’t miss was the expression on McAnally’s face as we all emerged into the bar; I wish I had as it made me rethink an awful lot of things about my friend.
The best way to describe Mac is nondescript; he’s tall but not unusually so, he’s not particularly thin or fat, his face has a reassuring lived in look and even his eyes are kind of an indeterminate shade between brown and grey. I have no idea what colour his hair is as he shaves it all off and I’m not fool enough to ask him about it. All in all, he has an ultimately non-threatening air about him, which is kind of important when you consider the clientele he can get in the bar.
The look I caught in McAnally’s eyes that day was the polar opposite of unthreatening and made me take a step backwards, as far into the shadows as I could, where I would not be seen so easily.
“This is Holy Ground,” Mac said as he nodded toward the sign that announced the place was neutral ground according to the Unseelie Accords. “There will be no trouble here.” I have never heard him sound so determined in all my life, but then again, Mac doesn’t say an awful lot most of the time. There was an audible intake of breath in front of me - it could have been either Adam or Amanda - and then Adam stepped forward.
“Why on earth would I want to cause trouble Seán Mac an Fhailghigh?” He asked. Mac narrowed his eyes and frowned, and I really didn’t like the expression on his face as he glared at Adam. I sank further back into the shadows, and was surprised when Amanda joined me, giving me a sickly grin and a shrug when I mouthed ‘what?’ at her. I guess she had no idea what was going on either. I turned my attention back to Adam and Mac and I found myself feeling very glad that there appeared to be nobody else in sight. Mac was still glaring, one hand hidden behind the bar, the other oh-so-casually resting on the polished wood surface and I found myself wondering what else he kept behind the bar for use in times of trouble besides the shillelagh I knew about. For his part Adam seemed unconcerned, from what I could tell by staring at his back, and his stance suggested that he was totally relaxed. I didn’t actually believe that was true for one minute; from what the guy had told me his life depended on being ready for anything at all times even if he did live by the adage of ‘run, not fight’ as he’d said earlier.
“Why would you want to cause trouble?” Mac echoed. “Because you can, of course. What other reason would you need?” His gaze was stony and unyielding, almost frightening in fact. This was not McAnally as I knew him - bar owner, brewer of beer and man of few words - and I didn’t like it.
“I think you’re confusing me with someone else, my friend,” Adam said gently, his tone of voice the sort you’d use on a skittish animal. For some reason I thought of horses, which made no sense to me at all. Nothing new there, then.
“I’m no friend of yours,” Mac announced. Adam shifted slightly, as if he were preparing to move forward.
“Are you so sure of that?” He continued to speak softly, but I had no problem hearing every word. “It was a long time ago; maybe your memory is failing... Brother John.” With the last two words Adam stepped fully into the light. The effect on Mac was instantaneous - he burst out laughing, both of his hands now resting on the bar. I’ve never seen Mac laugh like that, abandoning himself completely to sheer mirth and joy; it made him look a damn sight less nondescript, I have to admit. Still chuckling he made his way around the bar and grasped Adam’s wrist in greeting.
“You old fraud! Have you come to drink all my beer?”
Even from my position behind him, I could tell Adam was grinning. “Something like that,” he said. “I was given a personal recommendation...” He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, which Mac followed.
“Oh, it’s you,” Mac said when he spotted me. “Stop skulking where I can’t see you properly, Harry, and come explain just *how* you ran into ‘Brother Mathew’ here.”
With a quick glance at each other, Amanda and I slowly emerged from the concealing shadows. Mac frowned slightly at her and she gave him the faintest of nods. I began to feel at a distinct disadvantage. I bit my tongue before I said anything I might regret permanently and sidled over to the bar, where Mac was producing bottles of beer with a bit more of an extra flourish than usual. I cleared my throat experimentally and tried to block out the vision of Adam’s sardonically raised eyebrow.
“Uh, Mac... are you... you know... like them?” I waved a hand vaguely in Both Adam and Amanda’s direction. I couldn’t bring myself to say the word ‘immortal’ at all. Saying it would mean I was recognising that Mac wasn’t who or what I thought he had been and I wasn’t quite ready for that. To my eternal discomfort, Mac had no such problem.
“You mean immortal?” He asked bluntly.
I winced, but nodded my reply.
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“Oh hell,” I muttered, wondering just how I was going to get past this without the distance a bottle or four would give me. I couldn’t afford to drink to forget, and Mac knew that - he held my tab. Someone took pity on me though, as a bottle was wordlessly pressed into my hand. I began to protest but was shushed by Amanda.
“Don’t think, just drink. You aren’t paying for this.” I complied swiftly; I might have been stuck someplace between fear, denial and generally falling apart but I was still together enough not to question good fortune twice, plus I got the impression that Amanda at least sympathised with me.
I applied myself to drinking Mac’s beer with a sense of purpose - the purpose being to get to a state of inebriation where the impossible day might actually begin to make sense and I could *talk* about it. I realised that by the time I could talk about it, I might not be physically able to talk about it but I really didn’t care and not even the thought of Bob’s unholy glee about me having a hangover was enough to make me think twice about my decision to lose my incipient hysteria in the bottom of a beer bottle or two. Or Four. Or more.
I guess it’s no surprise that I don’t remember the next couple of hours that clearly, but from what I do remember, that’s no bad thing. I just wish I could forget some of the more unfortunate bits, like me singing, but all I can say in my defence is that I’m fairly certain that the singing wasn’t my idea. It wasn’t long after the singing that my brain decided it had had more than enough, and shut down which meant I was left with no other option than to rest my head on my arms where they lay on the bar clinging to an empty beer bottle like a talisman and shut my eyes. I wasn’t asleep, being asleep would have been infinitely preferable, but I really couldn’t take the strain any more at that point and I had to escape somehow as walking out of the pub under my own steam probably wasn’t an option.
Part Two