Happy Birthday, idontlikegravy
Or to be more exact, a belated happy birthday!
I'm a day late and a dollar short, I know. This week seemed to blur all into one, for some strange reason, but here is a wee silly birthday ficlet all the same - and it's the first time I've ever written characters from NCIS, I hope I didn't mess up too much!
Title: Conversations Over a Dead Body.
Fandom: Highlander/NCIS
Characters: Methos, Ducky, Ensemble
Rating: Gen
~~*~*~*~~
It was, Methos thought, as he revived on the morgue slab, going to be one of those mornings...again.
"Ducky," a laconic voice drawled. "Why is your corpse twitching?"
"Oh, quite normal," another voice returned. "Gas."
"Okay, I'm not going to ask you to elaborate on that," a third voice said. How many people were in this morgue? Did they have an open door policy?
As if on cue, Methos heard a door swing open. "Ducky, look at what I found in his coat lining!" The voice was feminine and slightly out of breath.
"Good grief, what a magnificent specimen!" said the voice called Ducky.
"Maybe you should put it down, Abby," said Mr Laconic.
"But Gibbs," Abby said, "I tested it for particulates and there was blood and matter! He used this thing!"
Methos gave a inward sigh. He guessed he needed to upgrade his blade cleaning regimen.
"Yeah, well, if you don't stop weaving it around in the air like that, you'll be adding to your particulates collection real soon," said the voice he hadn't put a name to yet.
"You may have a point, it is a bit heavy," Abby conceded, and Methos bit back a wince as he heard his blade clang against the concrete floor.
The phone rang, and Methos heard Ducky mutter something about absent lab assistants before he answered. "Yes?" There was a pause. "I see, how interesting." Methos's ears perked up, there was a noticeable change in the tenor of his voice. "I understand, I'll process the body for transport."
He heard a shift of feet beside him. "Something wrong?" asked Gibbs.
"It seems our John Doe is longer a John Doe, but a Captain James Mitchell, formerly of the Army Rangers.”
What? Methos resisted the urge to open his eyes. Something was definitely up.
"And we've just lost our jurisdiction. Great."
"Still here DiNozzo?"
"Just leaving, boss."
"I guess that means I'm off the case," Abby said, sounding disappointed.
"They're sending a transport to collect everything in about thirty minutes," said Ducky
"Thirty minutes?" Gibbs echoed.
"That's what they said."
"You have that look on your face," Abby piped up.
"And what look would that be, Abby?"
"The rule 82 look, the one that says you smell a rat."
"Just follow the protocol, Abby," the words were crisp, but Methos could hear the smile in his voice. He was fond of her.
"Yes sir!" And Methos listened in suffering silence as he heard his blade being dragged across the concrete and out the swing doors.
"Ducky, is there something I should know?" Gibbs said quietly, once they were alone...well, except for Methos of course.
There was a moment of silence, and then, "Nothing to worry about."
"I see." The words carried a weight of meaning, and Methos wondered how long these two had been friends. He heard footsteps and then the doors swung open and closed.
That was when he was poked sharply with a blade in his left side. His eyes flashed open, and he found a face staring grimly down at him. Ducky, he presumed.
"Put these on," Ducky said, handing him a set of green scrubs. "We have less than twenty minutes to get you off the premises, and I need to swap you out with another one of our Does - not an easy prospect, I can tell you."
Methos frowned, a multitude of questions going through his mind. He settled on one. "Why are you doing this?"
Ducky gave him a long look. "Tell Dawson, we're even now," he said pointedly.
Ah.
"Any chance of getting my sword back?"
Ducky smirked. "Consider it collateral damage," he said, before adding. "Nice blade, by the way, I remember seeing one just like it in Syria back in '82..."
Methos never got to hear the end of the story.
They only had twenty minutes, after all.
FINIS
I'm a day late and a dollar short, I know. This week seemed to blur all into one, for some strange reason, but here is a wee silly birthday ficlet all the same - and it's the first time I've ever written characters from NCIS, I hope I didn't mess up too much!
Title: Conversations Over a Dead Body.
Fandom: Highlander/NCIS
Characters: Methos, Ducky, Ensemble
Rating: Gen
~~*~*~*~~
It was, Methos thought, as he revived on the morgue slab, going to be one of those mornings...again.
"Ducky," a laconic voice drawled. "Why is your corpse twitching?"
"Oh, quite normal," another voice returned. "Gas."
"Okay, I'm not going to ask you to elaborate on that," a third voice said. How many people were in this morgue? Did they have an open door policy?
As if on cue, Methos heard a door swing open. "Ducky, look at what I found in his coat lining!" The voice was feminine and slightly out of breath.
"Good grief, what a magnificent specimen!" said the voice called Ducky.
"Maybe you should put it down, Abby," said Mr Laconic.
"But Gibbs," Abby said, "I tested it for particulates and there was blood and matter! He used this thing!"
Methos gave a inward sigh. He guessed he needed to upgrade his blade cleaning regimen.
"Yeah, well, if you don't stop weaving it around in the air like that, you'll be adding to your particulates collection real soon," said the voice he hadn't put a name to yet.
"You may have a point, it is a bit heavy," Abby conceded, and Methos bit back a wince as he heard his blade clang against the concrete floor.
The phone rang, and Methos heard Ducky mutter something about absent lab assistants before he answered. "Yes?" There was a pause. "I see, how interesting." Methos's ears perked up, there was a noticeable change in the tenor of his voice. "I understand, I'll process the body for transport."
He heard a shift of feet beside him. "Something wrong?" asked Gibbs.
"It seems our John Doe is longer a John Doe, but a Captain James Mitchell, formerly of the Army Rangers.”
What? Methos resisted the urge to open his eyes. Something was definitely up.
"And we've just lost our jurisdiction. Great."
"Still here DiNozzo?"
"Just leaving, boss."
"I guess that means I'm off the case," Abby said, sounding disappointed.
"They're sending a transport to collect everything in about thirty minutes," said Ducky
"Thirty minutes?" Gibbs echoed.
"That's what they said."
"You have that look on your face," Abby piped up.
"And what look would that be, Abby?"
"The rule 82 look, the one that says you smell a rat."
"Just follow the protocol, Abby," the words were crisp, but Methos could hear the smile in his voice. He was fond of her.
"Yes sir!" And Methos listened in suffering silence as he heard his blade being dragged across the concrete and out the swing doors.
"Ducky, is there something I should know?" Gibbs said quietly, once they were alone...well, except for Methos of course.
There was a moment of silence, and then, "Nothing to worry about."
"I see." The words carried a weight of meaning, and Methos wondered how long these two had been friends. He heard footsteps and then the doors swung open and closed.
That was when he was poked sharply with a blade in his left side. His eyes flashed open, and he found a face staring grimly down at him. Ducky, he presumed.
"Put these on," Ducky said, handing him a set of green scrubs. "We have less than twenty minutes to get you off the premises, and I need to swap you out with another one of our Does - not an easy prospect, I can tell you."
Methos frowned, a multitude of questions going through his mind. He settled on one. "Why are you doing this?"
Ducky gave him a long look. "Tell Dawson, we're even now," he said pointedly.
Ah.
"Any chance of getting my sword back?"
Ducky smirked. "Consider it collateral damage," he said, before adding. "Nice blade, by the way, I remember seeing one just like it in Syria back in '82..."
Methos never got to hear the end of the story.
They only had twenty minutes, after all.
FINIS