Happy Holidays, merriman!

[amand_r]

Title: The Doctor Who Christmas Marathon (1/2)
Author: tes_fic, aka Cyclops Says, 'NO BODY."
Written for: merriman
Characters/Pairings: Duncan, Methos, Joe, 5th Doctor, Turlough, Tegan.
Rating: R (suggestive content, language and an m/m kiss)
Warnings: Highlander/Doctor Who crossover (5th Doctor)
Author's Notes: Set 2 months post-Horsemen.
Summary: Duncan returns to Seacouver after receiving a phone call from Joe Dawson, warning of trouble.



The Doctor Who Christmas Marathon.

Duncan glanced down and frowned at the letter Joe slapped on the bar. He had just flown half way around the globe and this was the last thing he expected from a tight-lipped and exhausted-looking Joe Dawson.

"What's this?"Duncan asked, barely giving the letter a look as his eyes sought Joe. "You said on the phone it was urgent."

Joe thumped the letter with his hand and pushed it closer toward MacLeod. "I got this two days ago. It's a report on Adam Pierson," he said, his tone rough. "From his Watcher," he added. "It seems the old man has vanished."

"What?" Duncan snatched up the letter and scanned the contents, his eyes picking out the impossible. "He lost a challenge?" he demanded, his eyes searching Joe's face.

"I don't know," Joe said. "You tell me."

Dead…the word was on the tip of his tongue and Duncan refused to consider it. "This has to be some sort of joke. You know he's capable of losing any Watcher."

Joe shook his head, held MacLeod's gaze for a moment, then reached for the whiskey and two glasses. He moved from behind the bar and went over to one of the side tables. The club was almost empty as a band set up for the evening crowd.

"Joe?" Duncan repeated, following Dawson to the table as numbness spread through his system. This was serious. He clutched the report in his hand, staring at it in disbelief. He slid onto a chair and looked to Dawson, noticing now how worried Joe seemed. He was shocked himself, as this was the last thing he wanted. Methos, as he had last seen him, had been his usual laid-back, uncommunicative and sarcastic self. He rubbed his eyes and exhaled hard.

"What happened in Bordeaux?"

Duncan raised his head and glared at Dawson. "I told you."

"You told me nothing," Joe said. "And don't give me that look, as Methos hasn't said a word either." Joe sighed. "You're both as bad as each other."

"I haven't seen him since Bordeaux," Duncan said, honestly. "He was alive."

"You guys were good?" Joe asked, studying MacLeod.

Duncan squirmed a little and considered the question. As always, his feeling were confused where Methos was concerned.

"Aw, hell, Mac-"

"I'm sure he'll turn up," Duncan cut in, not in the mood to talk about the Horsemen.

"I've spent the last two days going over everything in the database. Checking the reports," Joe said.

"Was he challenged?"

Joe shook his head.

"Any hunters in town?"

Again Joe shook his head.

"Then why are you so worried?" Duncan asked, relieved. "It's only been a couple of days," he added. "Have you tried calling him?"

Joe grunted and took out his cell phone, thumbing through the memory before finding what he wanted. He held it out for MacLeod to see. "This footage was taken two days ago. Our IT guys hacked it from the City Library's surveillance system."

Duncan stared at Joe, then took the cell off him and watched the grainy, poor quality video. It showed Methos with his back to the main desk as he searched a tall bookcase for something. Methos moved slowly along the shelving, intent on his search, and then stepped between the rows of shelving and was lost from view. Abruptly a bright, white light obscured the picture and then the footage came back into focus with the staff, and a few patrons, glancing around in alarm and confusion. The video stopped and Duncan's brows drew down before he handed the phone back to Dawson. "That proves nothing," he said. "That flash could have been anything. It wasn't a Quickening, and he didn't look concerned."

Joe regarded MacLeod and leaned closer. "His Watcher said he never left the library. In fact, I've seen the entire footage and he never comes into view again."

"There has to be a logical explanation," Duncan said reasonably. He knew the library Joe was talking about. It was massive and sat on the top floor of the City Building. "There are two entrance points."

"He never came out," Joe repeated.

"This is Methos we're talking about. You know as well as I do that he's got more than one alias. Half the time I'm sure he's playing us. For all we know he might be on some island in the Pacific, sunning himself," Duncan said, leaning across the table also, his voice lowing.

"They found his clothing on the floor, along with his wallet and car keys."

Duncan's brows went up.

"Thank God he'd checked his coat in at the entry desk, otherwise they would've found his sword. Then we'd have the police sniffing around."

"He left without his sword?" Duncan asked, starting to worry.

"He vanished without clothing," Joe reminded.

Duncan blinked. "Where's his sword now?"

"One of my guys retrieved it before the library staff could find it." Joe stopped, watching MacLeod. "Now do you see why I called you?"

"And no one's seen him since?" Duncan asked. Why would Methos walk away from his sword? "Which sword did the Watchers pick up?"

Joe stared at Duncan for a moment in exasperation then sighed. "His broadsword," he grouched. "What other sword does he use?" He moved closer again. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Duncan shook his head, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "I'm sure there is a Methos-type explanation."

Joe looked down at his drink. "You think this might be related to what happened in Bordeaux?"

"I don't know," Duncan said, really not wanting to think about that. It had been two months since the double Quickening, and their parting had been strained. He winced. Since leaving Bordeaux he had worked out that Methos had deliberately tried to provoke him when they had argued outside Methos' apartment in Seacouver. Despite their argument, he had followed Methos' trail of clues, relieved and taking hope from the fact that their friendship might survive. By the time he had arrived in Bordeaux he was certain that Methos was no longer the same man Cassandra had described. The problem was acknowledging those facts aloud. He really needed to talk to Methos.

"He told me you said the friendship was finished."

Duncan lifted his eyes and held Dawson's gaze. "We both said a lot of things." He sat back, his whiskey untouched. We're through…echoed in his mind and Duncan exhaled hard, then held out his hand to cover his unease. "I take it you have the keys to his apartment?"

"Why do you think that?" Joe asked.

Duncan sent him a meaningful glare of annoyance. "Because you wouldn't have called if you didn't want me involved."

Joe looked guilty for a moment then grinned and fished a key out of his pocket. "Yeah…well. He left me a key before the last time he went to Paris." He offered it to MacLeod. "I'll want it back."

Duncan took the key and gave a slight nod, hearing what Dawson was not saying. Methos was important to Joe, and Duncan found that sentiment helped settle his ghosts about Bordeaux even more. When all was said and done, Methos had chosen to back him against Kronos. Kronos' memories had mirrored that fact strongly, as had Kronos' anger and sense of betrayal over Methos' actions and changed loyalties. "He always was my friend," he whispered.

"What?" Joe cocked a brow.

"Nothing." Duncan shook his head, his smile self-indulgent as he saw Joe scowl. He closed his hand around the key. Methos was still his friend, was still the same irritating bastard who had risked his life during the dark Quickening, who drank all his beer, told questionable stories and who had shared his home for a few weeks during Gina and Robert's three hundredth wedding anniversary. They had gotten on amazingly well, considering. Gina had even invited them both along for the honeymoon, which Methos had found hilarious. He had declined, not giving Methos the option of taking up Gina's offer, and had endured a string of bad jokes from the ancient Immortal. Life had been good… will be good again, he silently promised.

"Just find the son of a bitch for me."

Duncan nodded and left the club, heading for his car. He did not need Methos' address, as he had it memorized. Just as he had Methos' last five phone numbers memorized. Obviously, in his subconscious he still thought of Methos as important. He just needed to verbalize that point, especially if Methos was walking around without a sword. If there was one thing he was certain about, it was that he did not want the older Immortal dead.

If Methos was not home, then he would use some of his own contacts to try and track the ancient. Until then, Duncan was betting he would find the old bastard holed up in his apartment with a crate of beer and a box of books.

~

Methos lived on the fourth floor, his apartment overlooking the street. Duncan climbed the stairs, using the time to think up what he would say when Methos opened the door. He was still unsure how to broach the subject of Bordeaux… and stopped outside Methos' door, realizing a moment later that he could sense no Immortal signature. Methos was not home. He did not even bother to knock as he inserted the key and pushed the door open.

The first thing that hit him was a stale smell, and Duncan's gut tightened in growing worry as he hesitated in the doorway and scanned the interior. The curtains were open, spilling sunlight into the main living area. Books sat on the low coffee table, and in the far corner was the television. It was on, playing a repeat of yesterday's episodes in the week long Doctor Who Christmas Marathon that had seemed to take over the local television station. He had seen it at the airport when he had arrived, at the loft when Richie had waved a vague greeting, and he had seen it in the shops when he had gone to pick up a few supplies. All in Seacouver appeared to be in the grip of Doctor Who fever and glued to their television sets.

Duncan squinted at Methos' television in dislike, picking out the blond, English actor who played the Doctor. He remembered him from the UK vet's show call All Creatures Great and Small. It had been a favorite of Tessa's, and Duncan frowned, recalling that Methos also liked to watch UK vet shows and had waxed lyrical about going back into veterinary medicine, claiming to have worked on Noah's Ark.

Duncan snorted. Like everything else, Methos' claims were preposterous, yet he could not dismiss them outright, and he focused again on the television. He was vaguely amused to realize that he also recognized the female and male actors who played the Doctor's companions. The girl was supposedly Australian. Her name was Megan…or something similar, while the English guy, named Turlough, played some alien who had been imprisoned on Earth and was…

Duncan stopped that thought cold, realizing he had seen this same episode while waiting for his luggage at the airport yesterday. He was mildly distressed that he could remember it so clearly. This was the episode where the Doctor was trapped on an Edwardian sailing ship in space, held captive by creatures who were mind readers and who lived forever. These creatures had also hidden the Doctor's blue police box, and the Doctor was trying to find it as he tried to solve a dastardly plot in space.

Duncan laughed softly, watching the drama unfold on the television. He had no idea Methos was into this type of pop-fiction, although nothing about Methos should surprise him. At present the Doctor was rescuing one of his traveling companions, Turlough, a tall redhead, who looked to be about seventeen years old. Turlough, due to his infernal curiosity, had become locked in a small room on board a pirate vessel…and against his better judgment Duncan found he was listening, drawn into the drama unfolding.

'What are you doing here?' the Doctor asked as he entered the small grid room to find Turlough cowering on the floor in fright.

'Captain Wrack,' Turlough said, looking relieved to see the Doctor. He exhaled hard and climbed to his feet. 'She said this place contained the secret of her power.'

'Did she?' the Doctor asked, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking unconcerned by the fact that only a vacuum shield protected them from the vast coldness of space. He glanced down at the hole in the middle of the floor, testing the force-shield with his shoe. 'This room is part of the ion-drive system,' he said, scanning the small room with interest.

'Why is it open to space?' Turlough asked, pressing back against the wall a second time and refusing to get any closer to the hole in the floor.

'Better for reception,' the Doctor shrugged, glancing down at the floor again. He then looked up, a small smile playing across his mouth. 'Interesting.'

'What is it?' Turlough asked, dragging his eyes away from the seductive pull of open space.

'Wrack also uses this place as a receiver for something totally different," the Doctor said, reaching out to pull Turlough protectively away from the wall.

'What?' Turlough asked, trying to act cool and unconcerned, but failing dismally.

The Doctor pointed up at the ceiling. 'Do you know what that is?' he asked.

'It's an eye," Turlough said, staring up at the huge ruby red crystal that hung overhead. He glanced at the Doctor in confusion.

'Very good,' the Doctor said. 'Its function is that of a massive amplifier.'

'Is that what she used to destroy the other ships?' Turlough asked, his eyes widening in awe. He took a step closer to the Doctor.

'Yes,' the Doctor nodded.

Turlough's brows drew down. 'So that's the secret of her power,' he muttered.

'It's only part of it,' the Doctor said. 'There is still the question of the focus. What does she use as a focus for all this power?'

Duncan turned away, not believing he was getting sucked into this 1980's drama all over again. It was bad enough that he had watched it in the airport. Right now he had other issues. The main one being-finding Methos before someone else did and he lost another friend. Then find out why Methos was no longer carrying his sword. Duncan had all his arguments ready, determined to protect Methos until the ancient saw sense.

He turned full circle in the room, picking out other clues that pointed to recent habitation. A pair of Methos' boots sat on the floor behind the lounge. Two beer cans, empty, were on the low table. Various books sat open on the table and Duncan peered closer at them, noting they were all about unusual, mystical discoveries around the world. His frown increased.

'Wait a minute,' the Doctor said, stopping Turlough from leaving the small grid room. 'We can't leave. Not until I have worked out some sort of plan.'

'And we have to do that here?' Turlough asked. 'Anyone outside this room can turn the force-shield off, and we will be sucked out into space.'

'Safer here,' the Doctor said, appearing still unconcerned. He rocked back and forth on his toes, thinking hard. 'The Eternals are far less likely to pick up our mind vibrations in this room.'

Turlough rubbed the back of his neck and sent the Doctor a semi-glare. 'So tell me, Doctor, what do you want to do?'

'I must find a way of staying on board this ship.'

'Why?'

'To stop Wrack winning the race,' the Doctor said, as if it was obvious. 'She can't be allowed to claim the prize of Enlightenment.'

Turlough considered the Doctor and then moved closer to him again. 'Let me stay?' he asked, persuasive. 'Or don't you trust me?'

The Doctor looked at Turlough in mild exasperation. 'You couldn't cope alone,' he said gently. 'These creatures have vast powers. They can pull any thought from your head. Use any idea they find to their own advantage. And that is why none of them must win this race. Giving them more power would be a disaster.'

'You cannot stop them all-'

'I can but try,' the Doctor said, sending Turlough a blinding smile before opening the door and peering out into the dim corridor. He stepped out and went to the steps that led up to the crew level, stopping when the sound of someone groaning broke the silence. Lifting a finger to his lips to silence Turlough's automatic protests, the Doctor moved away from the stairs and followed the faint sound. A lantern further down the corridor threw streaks of light over the walls and floor and the Doctor checked each door, stopping outside the second door and using his screwdriver to unlock the knob.

'Are you sure this is a good idea?' Turlough asked as he crowded behind the Doctor. 'Out here the Eternals can read our minds.'

The Doctor ignored him, opening the door slowly and peering inside the room. It was brightly lit, well furnished, with drapes covering all the windows. With care the Doctor entered the room and waited for Turlough, then closed the door. The moan repeated, louder, and the Doctor turned, following Turlough's stare and seeing a tall, lean man tied to a bed at the far side of them room.

'You think he's from one of the other ships?" Turlough asked, making no move help the captive. 'A prisoner?'

The Doctor raised a hand, indicating for Turlough to stay silent, and then approached the bed. The bound man looked semi-conscious and was dressed in similar attire to all the crew of Captain Wrack's modified pirate vessel. Only this man's boots were missing. The white ruffled shirt was open to his waist, the breeches were a dark leather, adorned by a thick belt that banded narrow hips. The man was pale, with prominent cheekbones and nose, long lashes and dark hair that fell over his forehead. The man's wrists and ankles were tied securely and attached to either end of the bed, keeping the prisoner prone.

"What the-" Duncan forgot about the books, empty beer bottles and musky smell as he stared, stunned, at the television. He knew that sprawl, that face, that body, that… Duncan swallowed and took a step closer to the television, his eyes drinking in Methos' semi-naked figure. He'd seen this episode last night, but this bit was new. He could have sworn that the Doctor was captured by these weird mind-reader-aliens on leaving the grid room…but…but…

'Who is he?' Turlough asked as he shadowed the Doctor over to the bed. 'An Eternal?'

'No,' the Doctor said as he sat on the side of the bed and pressed fingers against the captive's throat. 'He has an Ephemeral existence …yet…'

'Yet…what?' Turlough prompted, his gaze going from the Doctor to the captive and back. 'Doctor?'

'There is something strange about his aura,' the Doctor said, his frown increasing. 'Something that feels wrong. Something I should remember,' he said tapping his lip in thought.

'He's wrong…in what way?' Turlough asked.

'Like he exists outside the normal timelines.' The Doctor brushed back the captive's hair and Turlough jumped when the man started to cough, starting to wake.

'We should get out of here before Wrack finds us with her prisoner,' Turlough said.

'Wait,' the Doctor said, focusing on the captive.

The captive turned his head, his lashes lifting to reveal over-bright dark eyes. 'Stop them…' he whispered, licking dry lips. 'Get them out of my…mind…'

'Wrack's using his mind?' Turlough asked when the captive fell silent.

'Hmmm," the Doctor looked annoyed. 'Well not for much longer if I have anything to say about it,' he said as he leant closer and slapped the captive's face.

The prisoner blinked and tried to move his hands as he blinked up in confusion at the man sitting beside him.

The Doctor 's smile increased as he reached over and undid the ropes. 'Hello,' he said cheerfully. 'Welcome back.'

The prisoner grunted, rubbing his wrists as they were freed. 'Were you… were you just in my head?' he asked.

'No,' the Doctor answered. 'What you felt were Eternals,' he said as he undid the ropes around the man's ankles. 'They live off our energy. Live of our memories and use our knowledge for their own entertainment.'

'Umm…is it wise to untie him?' Turlough asked as he stepped back, watching the Doctor help the captive sit up.

The man lifted a hand and rubbed his face. 'I feel fucked.'

Turlough's brows climbed as he blinked, looking scandalized, while the Doctor grinned in genuine amusement. 'You're not like the others,' the Doctor said.

The captive looked up sharply in question.

'In fact, I'd even go so far as to say that you know this set-up is not real,' the Doctor added.

'No shit, Sherlock,' the captive said. 'One minute I was reaching for a reference book and the next I'm on my knees in front of some crazy bitch in a tight corset. And I can tell you, been there, done that and it's no longer a fantasy of mine. '

'You fantasized about Wrack?' Turlough said, appearing a little confused as he tore his eyes away from the man on the bed.

The captive glanced up at the redhead and eyed him from head to toe, then looked at the man sitting on his bed. 'And just who are you?' he asked, peering closer at the smiling blond man. 'Why are you wearing a cricket outfit?' he then looked down at himself. 'Why the fuck am I only half dressed?'

The Doctor laughed and held out a hand. 'I'm the Doctor,' he said, his smile welcoming. 'This is Turlough. And you're onboard a pirate ship that's navigating the Milky Way.' He paused. 'And you are?'

'Methos,' the captive said, taking the Doctor's hand. 'I'd like to say it's a pleasure to meet you, but I feel that would be an understatement.'

"What the f-" Duncan said, mirroring Methos' stunned expression. He walked around the television set and even looked under it to see if this was some sort of practical joke. He pulled the plug from the wall, and to his astonishment the television did not turn off, rather the episode kept playing. The Doctor was now helping Methos to stand, and Duncan stared at the outfit his friend was dressed in. Methos looked like an extra off The Pirates of Penzance.

'What are those things? Those creatures?' Methos asked as he tried to tuck his shirt into his belt. It was a lost cause. He glared at his ruffled cuffs and shook his head.

'Eternals,' the Doctor said as he went to the door. 'They use Ephemerals-us-' the Doctor said, gesturing between them, 'to survive. They live off our emotions and thoughts and use them for entertainment, and then discard us when they are finished.'

'Charming,' Methos said. 'I wonder if they work for Cassandra.'

'Who?' the Doctor asked.

'Never mind,' Methos waved the question away, then squinted at the Doctor. 'I swear I've seen you somewhere before.'

The Doctor shrugged. 'I've been to Earth a few times.'

Methos' frown increased as he considered the Doctor. 'Is this the wrong time to say - I don't watch Star Trek?'

Turlough scoffed, then shook his head and paced away.

'What's his problem?' Methos asked.

The Doctor smiled. 'He doesn't think much of Earth culture. On the other hand, I was rather partial to the show.'

Methos gave a strained half smile. 'Okay…' he said slowly as he pinched the bridge of his nose, 'I'm obviously losing it. Must have been that German beer I drank last night.'

'They have German beer on board?' the Doctor asked, suddenly brightening. 'I must have missed that at the buffet.'

Methos lifted a hand, asking for silence. 'Just tell me what do they want so we can end this charade.'

'At present they are racing for the prize of Enlightenment,' the Doctor said as he went over to the door.

'Enlightenment?' Methos scowled and padded on bare feet across the floor to stand at the Doctor's shoulder. 'What exactly is that?'

'I have no idea,' the Doctor admitted.

Methos snorted. 'Brilliant.'

'So what do we do now?' Turlough asked.

Methos turned and studied the room. 'This might sound weird, but I swear I have seen this room before.'

'You have,' the Doctor said opening the door. 'Eternals can pull any image from your mind.' He glanced back at Methos. 'That's how they have converted their space ships into racing vessels. This one is a pirate vessel. The one we arrived on is an Edwardian yacht.'

'You make that sound so normal,' Methos muttered.

The Doctor grinned, unrepentant. 'No more normal than what you are,' he frowned. 'Which planet are you from?'

Methos looked affronted. 'Earth,' he said. 'And you can talk as I remember now where I last saw you. It was on TV. You fly around in a blue police box.'

'The TARDIS?' the Doctor said, interested. 'Have you seen it?'

Methos rolled his eyes.

'What are we going to do?' Turlough broke in, glaring at both men.

'I need to find a way to stay on board this ship and stop Wrack's plan,' the Doctor said.

'Now I know you're insane,' Methos said. 'You're not related to MacLeod, are you?'

Noise at the end of the corridor had them all turning and Turlough gasped as large pirates came into view. 'Wrack's guards,' Turlough said unnecessarily. 'What do we do?'

Methos bit his lip as Turlough and then the Doctor headed in the opposite direction down the corridor. 'Fuck,' he said, going after them. 'What I really need is a boyscout.'

Duncan backed away from the television set, feeling ill in the pit of his stomach. He hit the back of the lounge and sat heavily, staring open mouthed at the television screen. Methos was in an eighties TV show? Now he had seen it all and he wondered if Joe knew about Methos' flirtations with the acting bug.

At present pirate guards had trapped Methos and the Doctor and were man-handling them all up the stairs, with Methos mouthing off in his usual manner. Methos' sentences started with 'fuck you' and went downhill from there.

"There goes the show's G rating," Duncan muttered, amused despite the oddity of the situation. "He's going to corrupt a whole new generation with his mouth." He got up and went into the kitchen for a drink, needing to get away from the television and work out a logical explanation. Instead he stopped dead in the kitchen doorway and stared, gob-smacked, at the massive blue police box that sat in the center of Methos' kitchen.

Methos tested the ropes around his wrists and cursed, snarling at the guards as they were pushed forward. They came face to face with the tall Captain of the pirate vessel. Captain Wrack was dressed in a velvet and silk gown that reached her ankles. The bodice of the gown pushed her ample bosom forward. It was an impressive sight.

Turlough stopped and stared at the Captain's chest and swallowed, and then turned, pointing back frantically toward the Doctor and Methos. 'They're spies!' he declared in a nervous squeak.

The Doctor sighed and turned away.

'I caught them coming out of the grid room and was coming to tell you. Honest!'

'Turlough-' the Doctor warned, trying to shield him.

One of the pirate guards stepped forward and placed a curved sword under the Doctor's chin. 'One more word and you will regret it, Doctor.'

'Ooo, now I'm scared,' Methos lisped. 'Are you guys extras or something?' he asked. 'Have to say - great job on the make-up. And I just adore the costumes.'

The guard snarled and raised his blade.

'Or maybe you are rejects from the Comedy Club looking for kicks?' Methos added. 'Then again, Joe Dawson probably put you up to this. Didn't he? Because I'm telling you, this joke is no longer funny.' Abruptly, Methos was yanked backward and pressed against a wall as a second blade appeared under his nose. He sniffed, seeing the real blood on the blade. 'Okay-dokey,' he said slowly, raising his hands. 'This is getting serious guys.'

'Can I kill him?' the guard asked as he looked over at Captain Wrack. 'I'm sure we can pull another from his puny planet to fulfill our needs.'

Methos' brows went up and he glanced over at the Doctor, seeing his worry. 'They're for real?' he asked.

'Oh yes,' the Doctor said.

'Bloody hell,' Methos breathed in growing realization.

'Shut-up!' the guard growled. 'Or I'll cut out your tongue. And I mean it!'

Methos closed his mouth tight, and grinned at the guard.

'So…' the Captain said as she eyed each captive, 'why were you in the grid room?' she asked, her eyes ending up on Turlough. 'Speak!'

'What grid room?' Methos whispered loudly as he glanced at the Doctor held captive next to him.

'The place of her power,' the Doctor whispered back.

'Shut up!' the guard repeated, shoving Methos harder into the wall.

Turlough panicked and would have bolted, except the Captain grabbed him and focused her will on him.

'I can pull the information from your brain,' Wrack said gripping Turlough's chin and forcing his head up. She stared into his eyes, dragging the truth from him. 'Tell me…why were you in the grid room?'

'I followed them in there,' Turlough said, gasping for breath as he fought her possession. 'I was about to apprehend them when you stopped me,' he said urgently.

'This is bloody marvelous,' Methos muttered. 'I think I'll go back and wait in my room,' he tried to turn and came face to face with the sword again. 'Then again maybe not.'

The Captain dropped Turlough and turned to the Doctor. She caressed his face with her fingers and then moved to stand in front of Methos. 'I see you have woken, my pet.'

Methos tried to look affronted.

'Such a rich imagination. Such potent dreams and so devious a mind.' Wrack brushed her hand over Methos' cheek, her smile devouring. 'Luring my prey here and manipulating their desires before killing them was something I got from you. Your mind could keep me entertained for years.'

'Sorry,' Methos said, his smile strained. 'My warranty has expired.'

'I doubt that very much,' she said, before looking again at the Doctor. 'Really, Doctor - did you have to wake him?'

'You know you won't get away with this,' the Doctor said.

Wrack laughed, then moved to stand in front of the Doctor. She gently brushed blond hair from his forehead. 'Did you have to revert to spying?'

'I wasn't spying,' the Doctor said, looking put out. 'We're guests,' he added, 'given the freedom of the ship.'

'That freedom did not give you the right to delve into things that do not concern you,' Wrack said, her anger returning.

'Way to go, Doctor,' Methos mumbled, then hitched in a breath as the Captain swung around and slammed a hand into his chest. Methos gasped in pain as she brutally invaded his thoughts, and he fell back when the Doctor pushed between them. 'What the bloody hell was that-'

'Leave him alone,' the Doctor said.

'What is he to you, Doctor?' she asked. 'He is not one of your charges.'

'That does not matter,' the Doctor said. 'He is now under my care.'

'You are so pathetic for a Time Lord,' Wrack said. 'You gather around you those who would betray you and those who have no idea what you are capable of.' She gestured toward her guards and they seized the Doctor, dragging him away. 'Would they follow you if they could see into your heart?'

'And what do you see, Wrack?' the Doctor asked. 'Can you read my mind?'

She ignored his challenge, stepping away from him to stand again in front of Methos. 'Tell me…my pet, what is this Boy Scout I see pictured in your mind?'

'Something you don't want to piss off,' Methos said, as he struggled to breathe.

'I could have you killed where you stand," Wrack said, her eyes losing focus again. 'Even cut off your head…'

'Surely that won't be necessary,' the Doctor broke in a second time, fighting the guards. 'Killing us won't help you win the race.'

Wrack considered the Doctor, then glanced at Methos. 'True,' she mused. 'There will be time to play later. To learn all your secrets after I win the race.' She walked over to Turlough, focusing her attention on him. 'Tell me, boy, what do you suggest I do with these spies that you captured?'

'Get rid of them,' Turlough answered automatically, then relented when the Captain raised an amused brow. 'I mean…send them back,' Turlough corrected. 'Back to Captain Striker's ship.'

'Yes,' Wrack murmured. 'I will send the meddlesome Doctor back. But what should I do with you, Mr. Turlough?'

"My god, Methos…" Duncan murmured. "What have you gotten involved in now?" he asked as he stepped around the blue police box. He brushed his fingers over the cool wood and shook his head in disbelief. He knew Methos collected antiques, but this was beyond what he would consider normal-even for Methos.

He reached out and tried to open the door, but found it locked. Then abruptly a bright, sudden flash of light blinded him and Duncan fell, weightless and disorientated, landing with a jolt on a wooden floor. He gasped, reaching out to steady himself with hands and saw a row of boot-clad feet. He reached for his sword and found it gone, and he looked up in stunned amazement before slowly standing. Before him stood the imposing, and womanly figure, of Captain Wrack. "Well…I'll be damned."

"So this is a boy scout," Wrack said, her eyes trailing over Duncan in pleasure, before she frowned, taking in his strange attire.

Duncan glanced down at himself and saw he was dressed in a scout's uniform. He plucked at the shirt in dismay, then turned, his eyes falling on Methos, who was dressed in a flamboyant pirate outfit.

"Hello, sailor," Methos drawled. 'Welcome to my nightmare.'

~

"What is going on here?"

The new voice drew everyone's attention and Duncan turned to see a tall man dressed in a formal black dinner suit standing at the end of the corridor. Behind him was a dark haired woman who was wearing an elegant ball gown and sparkling tiara. She was one of the Doctor's companions, only he had forgotten her name. Both looked out of place on the pirate ship.

"Mr. Marriner," Captain Wrack said as she turned to confront the man. "I suggest you return to your ship immediately before I charge you with mutiny!"

"Mutiny?" Marriner questioned in outrage. He lifted a hand and stopped the attractive young woman from rushing forward.

"Doctor," the woman hissed, "do something!"

Captain Wrack walked toward Marriner. "Take Miss Tegan and the Doctor and return to your ship. You can tell Striker I do not take kindly to him sending spies aboard my vessel. It is against the rules."

"Captain Striker did not send spies," Marriner stated, lifting his chin in challenge. "We play within the rules set."

"One more word, Mister Marriner," Wrack warned, "and I will make you walk the plank."

"They have a plank here?" Methos asked the Doctor in an aside.

"Oh yes," the Doctor nodded as he flashed Methos a smile. "Those who walk the plank cease to exist."

"This just gets better and better," Methos mumbled, then stitched on an innocent smile when Wrack's guards pushed him back and grabbed the Doctor, dragging him away. "Hey," he called. "What about us?"

"Shut up, you idiot," Duncan said. Then a moment later Duncan found himself seized by other guards and shoved into a richly decorated room. He stumbled over the floor rug, catching his balance and turning in time to get an armful of muttering ancient as Methos crashed into him. Then the redhead was pushed into the room, with less force, and the door was slammed shut. They all stood there and stared at the door as the key was turned, locking them in.

"Wait!" Turlough shouted, rushing to the door and banging on it with his fists. "I'm not with them! I'm on your side!" He yanked on the handle, but to no avail and then he turned and leant against the door to gaze at his two companions in fear and distrust.

"The snitch is Turlough," Methos said as he stepped away from MacLeod, "and you know me-if that really is you." He peered closer at the Highlander. "Are you real?"

"Of course I'm bloody real," Duncan said, exasperated, as he turned, watching Methos pace away.

"Then how are you here?" Methos asked as he continued to walk around the Highlander. "How am I here? Unless this is your nightmare," Methos said as he stopped and blinked. "Now that would make sense."

"No, this is not my nightmare," Duncan said, "and why would you think that?"

"Because you have me dressed in next to nothing," Methos said, lifting his arms. His hands were still tied and he frowned. "Really, this can't be my fantasy as I'm past the bondage stage."

Duncan stared at him, then closed his eyes and rubbed his face. "I was in your apartment-"

"What were you doing in my apartment?" Methos demanded.

Duncan waved his question away. "And then I was here."

Methos grunted and looked away.

"Umm…excuse me…" Turlough stepped forward and nervously glanced from one to the other. "Who are you both?"

"Where we are is more the point, than who we are," Methos said as he dropped his head back and groaned. "This is bloody typical of you, Highlander."

"Me?" Duncan said.

"Okay." Turlough held up his hands. "Forget I asked. Just tell me what we are going to do now?"

"Now…" Methos growled as he raised his hands, "one of you can untie me."

Duncan sighed, but complied.

"If this is my dream then why am I the only one tied up?" Methos complained.

"Do you really want an answer to that?" Duncan asked.

Methos sent him a half glare. "Seriously, don't you find that strange?" he continued, wincing as Duncan undid the knots.

Duncan snorted. "Strange?" he repeated. "Strange is watching my friend turn suicidal and follow Kronos," he said, ignoring Methos narrowing stare. "This is bloody weird."

Methos chewed his lower lip and then sighed. "Fine," he said at last, massaging his wrists. "Make this personal."

"I'm not, you idiot," Duncan corrected, holding Methos' gaze.

"What?" Methos said, unconvinced. "How is mentioning the Horsemen not making it personal?"

"I was just saying-"

"I know what you were implying and I'm sick of having to justify myself to you."

On to Part Two