Fic: This Side of the Truth 2/3 [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?
Part One
*
The hum of voices wasn’t exactly comforting, but it didn’t intrude too much either. I was just thankful they let me be, locked in my own version of a cold blue funk. I vaguely remember a gentle hand on my shoulder - Amanda’s I think, as it was too small and delicate for McAnally’s or Adam’s - but no-one spoke to me directly. Not long after that I think I must have dropped off for a while as when I blearily opened my eyes, my head seemed to be clearer. I didn’t move though, just continued to rest my head on my arms while I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of the fact that like it or not, immortals were obviously going to be a part of my life; I couldn’t see Mac giving up his pub just because 1 not-so-well-paying customer had problems dealing with his lifestyle. It was *my* problem and I would have to deal with it, and the best way to start doing that was to get myself some more information. No time like the present, while the beer cushion was still there even if my head was clearer. I blinked a few more times before I unwrapped my hands from around the empty bottle and raised my head.
“How long? How *old*?” I asked, a bit fuzzily I think as the 3 immortals all kind of stared at me in surprise - or maybe they hadn’t expected me to surface for a while longer. Adam and Mac shared a look, with Mac giving a faint nod.
“After I met Bob,” Adam replied. I waited for a few moments, but it seemed that the ‘how old’ question was still not going to be answered any time soon; immortals seemed to be even cagier about their ages than wizards and that was saying something.
“And you?” I asked Amanda. She shrugged elegantly.
“Never met him before,” she said.
“Not much call for good looking women in monasteries,” Mac added. If I’d been drinking at that point, I would have choked.
“Monasteries?” I spluttered.
“Used to be the best places to get beer in Britain, until Harry messed it all up in the 1530s.” Adam sounded so matter of fact about it; I couldn’t help but gape at him. He nodded in Mac’s direction. “Where do you think *he* learned the art of brewing?”
“A monastery? You were *monks*?” Now Mac I could almost imagine being at home in a monastery, but Adam Pierson? Never. Scholar and beer lover he might be but I doubted that he’d be happy living with the restrictions of a religious house; he seemed too much a force of nature for that. Mind you, I had only just met him and I’m sure he’d been working on ensuring that his appearance was deceptive and his motivations hidden for centuries, but I’m a wizard and wizards trust their instincts even when good sense tells them they’re being foolish. I’ve had lots of practice.
“You weren’t a very good one from what I remember,” Mac said to Adam, while I continued to blink at them in numb disbelief.
“It was a place to keep warm and stay out of trouble.”
“And drink my beer.”
“Well of course - it was good beer. It still is.” Adam raised the bottle in his hand with a smile. I let my head fall back down to my arms, wondering why I bothered saying anything; it always made things worse.
“I think I need to go home,” I whispered. The company of a sarcastic, ghostly ex-necromancer and a grouchy cat who thought he was the centre of the universe was beginning to seem infinitely more preferable than that of a couple of immortal beer guzzling and brewing former monks and an immortal thief. My head hurt, pounding in the resounding silence that followed my words. Amanda’s hand settled on my shoulder again; I think she almost felt sorry for me.
“I’ll make sure you get back in one piece,” she said gently. I grunted in reply.
“Make sure the contents of his pockets get back one piece, too, Amanda.”
“Adam! I wouldn’t dream of it. Well, not tonight at least.” She patted my shoulder. “Your pockets are safe, Harry, and so are the contents of your home.” I could hear the glare in her voice and assumed it was aimed at Adam considering Mac didn’t seem to know her. “We can leave these two to catch up with each other over their beer in peace. How does that sound?”
“Great,” I mumbled, though I didn’t make any effort to move. Part of me was very reluctant to go in case I found that I was no longer welcome in the place that had become my second home. I think Mac must have realised my concern as he dispatched it with his next words.
“Harry, knowing what I am won’t change anything about this place. You’ll still be just as welcome,” he said. It was a relief to hear it, even if sometimes I felt that I wasn’t welcome because of the disasters I seemed to invite, or maybe that was just my guilt talking. I raised my head again.
“Thanks, Mac,” I said, then I concentrated on trying to unfold myself from the bar stool without falling over. Pleased that I’d actually managed to stand without mishap, even if I was a little unsteady, I offered my elbow to Amanda.
“You still going to take me home?” I asked her with what was probably an inane grin on my face. It wasn’t often that I had a good looking woman *volunteer* to take me home, whether they had an ulterior motive or not, and I was not going to let the opportunity pass me by, especially not with Mac’s beer inside of me providing the fortification necessary to be able to *speak* to Amanda without worrying about tying myself in knots.
“Yes, I think I will.” She grabbed her coat and slung it on before taking my proffered arm. “See you later, boys,” she called back over her shoulder as I made my somewhat erratic way to the exit.
We hadn’t gone far when I realised that the Chicago air was doing a grand job of sobering me up, that and my ridiculous metabolism. I was beginning to enjoy having Amanda walk arm in arm with me rather than it being a necessity.
“Mind if we walk rather than catching a cab?” I asked. “I’d rather not run the risk of frying any automotive electronics if you don’t mind.” I might be capable of walking, but I was too drunk to keep tight control of my magic in a modern car which meant that the car might not even make it all the way back to my place without *something* essential going boom because of me.
“Not at all, it’s a pleasant night for a stroll.” She was right, it *was* a pleasant night and it was made more pleasant by our inconsequential chatter. Soon though that segued into us discussing Mac, his immortality and our surprise about it; Amanda really hadn’t heard of him before and I got the impression she’d been around since before Bob was alive. Mac had obviously been keeping his head down; maybe living in a monastery hadn’t been a bad career decision for him. It had left him with skills he could utilise as well as that talent for just fading into the background - even if that wouldn’t be so useful with the apparent immortal radar system they had. I made my mind up to ask about that, though I realised I’d rather ask Amanda or Adam than Mac as he was too close to what I still saw as a normal life - even if living in a magical world wasn’t what most people would call normal - for me to want to know details off him. Probably no time like the present, either - Amanda seemed to be quite amenable to discuss all sorts of things, something I’d not expected from my initial impression. Immortals were obviously a complicated bunch after living all those lifetimes and despite my discomfort, I found I really wanted to know more.
“Amanda, just how *do* you know when another immortal is near? I know it has nothing to do with magic or I’d be able to tell.”
“We sense each other. Remember Adam mentioned that we all have a type of energy we call the Quickening?”
“Yeah…”
“It varies from immortal to immortal, but you can always sense it. Kind of like a noise no-one else can hear but that you *feel* deep inside, tingling like electricity. Some people you can feel from quite a distance, some you have to be pretty close to before you get anything. Also depends on how well you know the person - you become more sensitive to someone you know well though their quickening is less intrusive.”
“It doesn’t sound that different from sensing certain kinds of magic.” I grinned at her, feeling stupidly cheerful and downright mellow. “Can you blow up lightbulbs too?” If I’d been less mellow I would have wanted the ground to open up beneath my feet for saying something so stupid. Amanda started giggling, then chuckling, and soon her peals of laughter just made my grin even wider; maybe it hadn’t been such a stupid thing to say after all. She managed to swallow her laughter long enough to reply
“Lightbulbs are an immortal speciality.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked as she managed to bring herself back under control, but with a grin as wide as mine still firmly in place.
“Yeah. A friend blew half the lights in Paris out once - including the Eiffel Tower.” I was going to call her bluff on that one, but something in her eyes told me she was actually serious, even though she was making light of it. I let that be the guide to my response and wondered how my mouth would manage to cope with sincerity and flippancy at the same time.
“Now that’s what I call impressive. I obviously have some catching up to do…”
Hmmm. That didn’t come out quite as badly as I’d feared it might - probably because my brain wasn’t really involved. It had the added bonus of making Amanda giggle again too which started me off and we were still fighting a losing battle with laughter as we approached my door.
Bob was not impressed. Not with the laughter, nor the company I was keeping, that much was obvious. He has this *look* that can say a whole slew of disapproving things about me and to me without him uttering one single word. Fortunately, I’m used to it and I doubt Amanda noticed.
Then I tried to light a few candles, not wanting to risk switching the electric lights on and there was the merry tinkle of shattering glass as my last surviving lightbulb blew out anyway.
“Oh dear,” smirked Bob. “And you were having such fun, too.” He glanced at Amanda who had collapsed into the nearest chair with laughter. “Pray tell, what is so amusing?” Bob asked Amanda.
“Lightbulbs!” She wheezed.
“Ah.” Bob turned to me, wordlessly demanding an explanation. I shrugged and stumbled to the sofa, my legs having decided they didn’t need to work any longer now I was home, and relatively safe.
“You had to be there,” I mumbled.
“I’m sure it would have been very edifying,” Bob said with a quirk of a smile before he faded - literally - into the background. I closed my eyes and let my head drop to the back of the sofa, it felt too heavy for my neck to support adequately with the weight of all the thoughts and speculation whirling around inside it. The cushion next to me dipped and a glass was pressed into my hand. I sipped gingerly, wondering what the hell an immortal would think was a suitable drink at this point of time. It was water. I opened one eye and tried to glare at her, she gave me a brief smile and another one of those shrugs - she seemed to have a never ending collection of them.
“If you don’t have a hangover in the morning, Bob will be terribly disappointed,” she commented. I gulped the water down in about 4 swallows and held the glass out for a refill. She obliged with a chuckle. The next glass was drunk a little more slowly and I chanced opening both eyes when I finished. Amanda still hadn’t removed her coat and was glancing thoughtfully between me and the door.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “You go back to Mac’s. Call a cab.”
“Sure?”
“Sure. I have a lot to process and I don’t think you staying would help with that.”
“Probably not.”
I closed my eyes as she made her way to the phone, then opened them again as she cleared her throat.
“What?” I grumbled.
“Your phone is in bits,” she said. Oops. I’d forgotten about that. Luckily I have spares in case of such an eventuality - you can pick up old fashioned phones for peanuts if you know where to look.
“Look in the floor cupboard next to the fridge,” I said without moving. It wasn’t me who needed the phone after all. I assumed she didn’t want to risk using her cell anywhere near me, she had good reason.
A short while later, after some clunking and cursing, Amanda started dialling a number. I switched off, unable to sustain the interest in what was going on outside of my head any longer, which meant I jumped a mile when she put her hand on my shoulder, leaned down and kissed my forehead. I nearly head-butted her, and would have done if not for immortal reflexes, I’m sure.
“Not quite the reaction I was expecting,” she chuckled.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“It’s OK. Take care, Harry and thanks for putting up with the old man.” I suppose she meant Adam Pierson which made me shudder - if *she* called him old, then I didn’t want to know how old he was after all, despite the thread of underlying curiosity that wove around beneath the messed-up surface of my thoughts.
“Favour to a friend,” I said as nonchalantly as I could manage. I’m not sure she was convinced going by the smile on her face, but still…
“See you, Harry.” She waved as she swept out of the door, taking the last of my energy with her. I flopped back into the cushions, thankful that my sofa was almost as comfortable as my bed; it meant there was no *need* for me to move to get a decent sleep and for that I was truly thankful. I can get by on a lot less sleep than an ordinary non-magical person does, but there are times when I really need the escape and oblivion only sleep provides. Unsurprisingly, this was one of them.
Part Three
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?
Part One
*
The hum of voices wasn’t exactly comforting, but it didn’t intrude too much either. I was just thankful they let me be, locked in my own version of a cold blue funk. I vaguely remember a gentle hand on my shoulder - Amanda’s I think, as it was too small and delicate for McAnally’s or Adam’s - but no-one spoke to me directly. Not long after that I think I must have dropped off for a while as when I blearily opened my eyes, my head seemed to be clearer. I didn’t move though, just continued to rest my head on my arms while I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of the fact that like it or not, immortals were obviously going to be a part of my life; I couldn’t see Mac giving up his pub just because 1 not-so-well-paying customer had problems dealing with his lifestyle. It was *my* problem and I would have to deal with it, and the best way to start doing that was to get myself some more information. No time like the present, while the beer cushion was still there even if my head was clearer. I blinked a few more times before I unwrapped my hands from around the empty bottle and raised my head.
“How long? How *old*?” I asked, a bit fuzzily I think as the 3 immortals all kind of stared at me in surprise - or maybe they hadn’t expected me to surface for a while longer. Adam and Mac shared a look, with Mac giving a faint nod.
“After I met Bob,” Adam replied. I waited for a few moments, but it seemed that the ‘how old’ question was still not going to be answered any time soon; immortals seemed to be even cagier about their ages than wizards and that was saying something.
“And you?” I asked Amanda. She shrugged elegantly.
“Never met him before,” she said.
“Not much call for good looking women in monasteries,” Mac added. If I’d been drinking at that point, I would have choked.
“Monasteries?” I spluttered.
“Used to be the best places to get beer in Britain, until Harry messed it all up in the 1530s.” Adam sounded so matter of fact about it; I couldn’t help but gape at him. He nodded in Mac’s direction. “Where do you think *he* learned the art of brewing?”
“A monastery? You were *monks*?” Now Mac I could almost imagine being at home in a monastery, but Adam Pierson? Never. Scholar and beer lover he might be but I doubted that he’d be happy living with the restrictions of a religious house; he seemed too much a force of nature for that. Mind you, I had only just met him and I’m sure he’d been working on ensuring that his appearance was deceptive and his motivations hidden for centuries, but I’m a wizard and wizards trust their instincts even when good sense tells them they’re being foolish. I’ve had lots of practice.
“You weren’t a very good one from what I remember,” Mac said to Adam, while I continued to blink at them in numb disbelief.
“It was a place to keep warm and stay out of trouble.”
“And drink my beer.”
“Well of course - it was good beer. It still is.” Adam raised the bottle in his hand with a smile. I let my head fall back down to my arms, wondering why I bothered saying anything; it always made things worse.
“I think I need to go home,” I whispered. The company of a sarcastic, ghostly ex-necromancer and a grouchy cat who thought he was the centre of the universe was beginning to seem infinitely more preferable than that of a couple of immortal beer guzzling and brewing former monks and an immortal thief. My head hurt, pounding in the resounding silence that followed my words. Amanda’s hand settled on my shoulder again; I think she almost felt sorry for me.
“I’ll make sure you get back in one piece,” she said gently. I grunted in reply.
“Make sure the contents of his pockets get back one piece, too, Amanda.”
“Adam! I wouldn’t dream of it. Well, not tonight at least.” She patted my shoulder. “Your pockets are safe, Harry, and so are the contents of your home.” I could hear the glare in her voice and assumed it was aimed at Adam considering Mac didn’t seem to know her. “We can leave these two to catch up with each other over their beer in peace. How does that sound?”
“Great,” I mumbled, though I didn’t make any effort to move. Part of me was very reluctant to go in case I found that I was no longer welcome in the place that had become my second home. I think Mac must have realised my concern as he dispatched it with his next words.
“Harry, knowing what I am won’t change anything about this place. You’ll still be just as welcome,” he said. It was a relief to hear it, even if sometimes I felt that I wasn’t welcome because of the disasters I seemed to invite, or maybe that was just my guilt talking. I raised my head again.
“Thanks, Mac,” I said, then I concentrated on trying to unfold myself from the bar stool without falling over. Pleased that I’d actually managed to stand without mishap, even if I was a little unsteady, I offered my elbow to Amanda.
“You still going to take me home?” I asked her with what was probably an inane grin on my face. It wasn’t often that I had a good looking woman *volunteer* to take me home, whether they had an ulterior motive or not, and I was not going to let the opportunity pass me by, especially not with Mac’s beer inside of me providing the fortification necessary to be able to *speak* to Amanda without worrying about tying myself in knots.
“Yes, I think I will.” She grabbed her coat and slung it on before taking my proffered arm. “See you later, boys,” she called back over her shoulder as I made my somewhat erratic way to the exit.
We hadn’t gone far when I realised that the Chicago air was doing a grand job of sobering me up, that and my ridiculous metabolism. I was beginning to enjoy having Amanda walk arm in arm with me rather than it being a necessity.
“Mind if we walk rather than catching a cab?” I asked. “I’d rather not run the risk of frying any automotive electronics if you don’t mind.” I might be capable of walking, but I was too drunk to keep tight control of my magic in a modern car which meant that the car might not even make it all the way back to my place without *something* essential going boom because of me.
“Not at all, it’s a pleasant night for a stroll.” She was right, it *was* a pleasant night and it was made more pleasant by our inconsequential chatter. Soon though that segued into us discussing Mac, his immortality and our surprise about it; Amanda really hadn’t heard of him before and I got the impression she’d been around since before Bob was alive. Mac had obviously been keeping his head down; maybe living in a monastery hadn’t been a bad career decision for him. It had left him with skills he could utilise as well as that talent for just fading into the background - even if that wouldn’t be so useful with the apparent immortal radar system they had. I made my mind up to ask about that, though I realised I’d rather ask Amanda or Adam than Mac as he was too close to what I still saw as a normal life - even if living in a magical world wasn’t what most people would call normal - for me to want to know details off him. Probably no time like the present, either - Amanda seemed to be quite amenable to discuss all sorts of things, something I’d not expected from my initial impression. Immortals were obviously a complicated bunch after living all those lifetimes and despite my discomfort, I found I really wanted to know more.
“Amanda, just how *do* you know when another immortal is near? I know it has nothing to do with magic or I’d be able to tell.”
“We sense each other. Remember Adam mentioned that we all have a type of energy we call the Quickening?”
“Yeah…”
“It varies from immortal to immortal, but you can always sense it. Kind of like a noise no-one else can hear but that you *feel* deep inside, tingling like electricity. Some people you can feel from quite a distance, some you have to be pretty close to before you get anything. Also depends on how well you know the person - you become more sensitive to someone you know well though their quickening is less intrusive.”
“It doesn’t sound that different from sensing certain kinds of magic.” I grinned at her, feeling stupidly cheerful and downright mellow. “Can you blow up lightbulbs too?” If I’d been less mellow I would have wanted the ground to open up beneath my feet for saying something so stupid. Amanda started giggling, then chuckling, and soon her peals of laughter just made my grin even wider; maybe it hadn’t been such a stupid thing to say after all. She managed to swallow her laughter long enough to reply
“Lightbulbs are an immortal speciality.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked as she managed to bring herself back under control, but with a grin as wide as mine still firmly in place.
“Yeah. A friend blew half the lights in Paris out once - including the Eiffel Tower.” I was going to call her bluff on that one, but something in her eyes told me she was actually serious, even though she was making light of it. I let that be the guide to my response and wondered how my mouth would manage to cope with sincerity and flippancy at the same time.
“Now that’s what I call impressive. I obviously have some catching up to do…”
Hmmm. That didn’t come out quite as badly as I’d feared it might - probably because my brain wasn’t really involved. It had the added bonus of making Amanda giggle again too which started me off and we were still fighting a losing battle with laughter as we approached my door.
Bob was not impressed. Not with the laughter, nor the company I was keeping, that much was obvious. He has this *look* that can say a whole slew of disapproving things about me and to me without him uttering one single word. Fortunately, I’m used to it and I doubt Amanda noticed.
Then I tried to light a few candles, not wanting to risk switching the electric lights on and there was the merry tinkle of shattering glass as my last surviving lightbulb blew out anyway.
“Oh dear,” smirked Bob. “And you were having such fun, too.” He glanced at Amanda who had collapsed into the nearest chair with laughter. “Pray tell, what is so amusing?” Bob asked Amanda.
“Lightbulbs!” She wheezed.
“Ah.” Bob turned to me, wordlessly demanding an explanation. I shrugged and stumbled to the sofa, my legs having decided they didn’t need to work any longer now I was home, and relatively safe.
“You had to be there,” I mumbled.
“I’m sure it would have been very edifying,” Bob said with a quirk of a smile before he faded - literally - into the background. I closed my eyes and let my head drop to the back of the sofa, it felt too heavy for my neck to support adequately with the weight of all the thoughts and speculation whirling around inside it. The cushion next to me dipped and a glass was pressed into my hand. I sipped gingerly, wondering what the hell an immortal would think was a suitable drink at this point of time. It was water. I opened one eye and tried to glare at her, she gave me a brief smile and another one of those shrugs - she seemed to have a never ending collection of them.
“If you don’t have a hangover in the morning, Bob will be terribly disappointed,” she commented. I gulped the water down in about 4 swallows and held the glass out for a refill. She obliged with a chuckle. The next glass was drunk a little more slowly and I chanced opening both eyes when I finished. Amanda still hadn’t removed her coat and was glancing thoughtfully between me and the door.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “You go back to Mac’s. Call a cab.”
“Sure?”
“Sure. I have a lot to process and I don’t think you staying would help with that.”
“Probably not.”
I closed my eyes as she made her way to the phone, then opened them again as she cleared her throat.
“What?” I grumbled.
“Your phone is in bits,” she said. Oops. I’d forgotten about that. Luckily I have spares in case of such an eventuality - you can pick up old fashioned phones for peanuts if you know where to look.
“Look in the floor cupboard next to the fridge,” I said without moving. It wasn’t me who needed the phone after all. I assumed she didn’t want to risk using her cell anywhere near me, she had good reason.
A short while later, after some clunking and cursing, Amanda started dialling a number. I switched off, unable to sustain the interest in what was going on outside of my head any longer, which meant I jumped a mile when she put her hand on my shoulder, leaned down and kissed my forehead. I nearly head-butted her, and would have done if not for immortal reflexes, I’m sure.
“Not quite the reaction I was expecting,” she chuckled.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“It’s OK. Take care, Harry and thanks for putting up with the old man.” I suppose she meant Adam Pierson which made me shudder - if *she* called him old, then I didn’t want to know how old he was after all, despite the thread of underlying curiosity that wove around beneath the messed-up surface of my thoughts.
“Favour to a friend,” I said as nonchalantly as I could manage. I’m not sure she was convinced going by the smile on her face, but still…
“See you, Harry.” She waved as she swept out of the door, taking the last of my energy with her. I flopped back into the cushions, thankful that my sofa was almost as comfortable as my bed; it meant there was no *need* for me to move to get a decent sleep and for that I was truly thankful. I can get by on a lot less sleep than an ordinary non-magical person does, but there are times when I really need the escape and oblivion only sleep provides. Unsurprisingly, this was one of them.
Part Three