"Dan Clifford is Methos" Fic
Title: Regrets, Blood and Change
Author: seashell14
Rating: I believe this is G-rated but am willing to be corrected about that or anything else to do with whatever this is.
Notes: The first fic I ever wrote was something like five years ago. This is number two. I don’t own Methos, Dan, Methos/Dan or any other possible variations thereof. No profit made. No harm done.
Written for Ithidral’s Dan Clifford is Methos fic challenge at Holby City Lounge
Regrets, Blood and Change
Surprisingly it wasn’t the advances in medicine that had caused him problems when he decided that Daniel Clifford wanted to be a surgeon. It was the blood-the blood and the resultant nightmares. He thought he had overcome that problem. It hadn’t been nearly so difficult for Adams-but then Adams hadn’t needed to be as demanding, egotistical and manipulative as Clifford. The line between who one is and who one was is much too fine at times and much too easily tripped over.
Playing "rock" music in the operating theater helps ground him in the present-as contemporary music has always done. (Though some people refuse to grasp the value of the concept.) Daniel’s energetic personality and penchant for lighting emotional fires under his colleagues, get him through the days. But the nights…the nights are still and full of shadows. And the shadows are full of regrets. Regrets and nightmares. Visions of blood and death. Blood and fear. Blood and excitement. Excitement and dominion. Dominion through control. Control of himself where others lacked control. Control of his brothers-all the while re-enforcing their beliefs that they were the ones in control. Control of the world around him-and through that control a measure of peace. Peace for himself and peace for those in his care. Peace in a time when peace through strength was the best that one could hope for.
Yet, even that stringent control proved to be an illusion. There was no lasting control-no peace-even for him. His brothers were unable to adapt, to change, to learn. Despite his best efforts to show them that their survival depended upon it. And so, for the sake of the greater good, for the mortals who do adapt and change, for the sake of a "progress"-which is seldom as progressive as those living in the midst of it believe-for the sake of what little peace the world had attained (and perhaps most of all, for the even smaller amount which he himself had achieved) he orchestrated the destruction of those who-in their way-knew and loved him best.
The world was "saved". A world where mortals suffer and die despite his best efforts to save them/him/her/them. A world where immortals search for wisdom and perspective from the oldest of their kind and yet will not/cannot take or understand it when it is given. One cannot give immeasurably long perspective to short lived beings, be they mortal or immortal. One cannot control that which will not be controlled. But if one is subtle one can do more than manipulate and control, one can teach, And hope for the best.
Peace, joy, love, all are ephemeral and yet worth treasuring for their very rarity. There are few constants: regret, idiocy, blood, music, change-and if one is very fortunate…hope.
Author: seashell14
Rating: I believe this is G-rated but am willing to be corrected about that or anything else to do with whatever this is.
Notes: The first fic I ever wrote was something like five years ago. This is number two. I don’t own Methos, Dan, Methos/Dan or any other possible variations thereof. No profit made. No harm done.
Written for Ithidral’s Dan Clifford is Methos fic challenge at Holby City Lounge
Regrets, Blood and Change
Surprisingly it wasn’t the advances in medicine that had caused him problems when he decided that Daniel Clifford wanted to be a surgeon. It was the blood-the blood and the resultant nightmares. He thought he had overcome that problem. It hadn’t been nearly so difficult for Adams-but then Adams hadn’t needed to be as demanding, egotistical and manipulative as Clifford. The line between who one is and who one was is much too fine at times and much too easily tripped over.
Playing "rock" music in the operating theater helps ground him in the present-as contemporary music has always done. (Though some people refuse to grasp the value of the concept.) Daniel’s energetic personality and penchant for lighting emotional fires under his colleagues, get him through the days. But the nights…the nights are still and full of shadows. And the shadows are full of regrets. Regrets and nightmares. Visions of blood and death. Blood and fear. Blood and excitement. Excitement and dominion. Dominion through control. Control of himself where others lacked control. Control of his brothers-all the while re-enforcing their beliefs that they were the ones in control. Control of the world around him-and through that control a measure of peace. Peace for himself and peace for those in his care. Peace in a time when peace through strength was the best that one could hope for.
Yet, even that stringent control proved to be an illusion. There was no lasting control-no peace-even for him. His brothers were unable to adapt, to change, to learn. Despite his best efforts to show them that their survival depended upon it. And so, for the sake of the greater good, for the mortals who do adapt and change, for the sake of a "progress"-which is seldom as progressive as those living in the midst of it believe-for the sake of what little peace the world had attained (and perhaps most of all, for the even smaller amount which he himself had achieved) he orchestrated the destruction of those who-in their way-knew and loved him best.
The world was "saved". A world where mortals suffer and die despite his best efforts to save them/him/her/them. A world where immortals search for wisdom and perspective from the oldest of their kind and yet will not/cannot take or understand it when it is given. One cannot give immeasurably long perspective to short lived beings, be they mortal or immortal. One cannot control that which will not be controlled. But if one is subtle one can do more than manipulate and control, one can teach, And hope for the best.
Peace, joy, love, all are ephemeral and yet worth treasuring for their very rarity. There are few constants: regret, idiocy, blood, music, change-and if one is very fortunate…hope.