Disclaimer: Characters are owned and copyrighted by Yoko Matsushita, Panzer/Davis and Rysher and whoever else has the rights to them. No copyright infringement is intended, no money is being made.
Timeline/Spoilers: For HL - set after the Ahriman arc, for YnM: before the Kyoto Fall, so there can be spoilers for everything before that
Characters: Methos, Tsuzuki, Hisoka, a cameo by Amanda, other characters from both universes are mentioned
Between Life and Death
by Kadira
When Methos opened his eyes, seemingly only mere moments after having died, he just knew that something wasn't right. The feeling was so strong that he could almost taste it. It tasted like acid or something equally unpleasant. Most changes just weren't good and he strongly suspected that this was one of those.
This wasn't how things were supposed to be. When he was dead, he was dead (fortunately so far only temporarily). And Methos was very sure that he currently could only be considered dead.
The memory of a fleeting moment of all-consuming pain when the bullets had hit home, followed by an even shorter moment of approaching darkness were proof enough of that.
He remembered the words of the three men in dark clothes and sunglasses, "He must be that woman's accomplice." Methos, who had been standing beside the Jeep at that time, waiting for Amanda, had seen enough movies since their invention to know what those men were – yakuza.
And nothing, neither his questions nor his feeble attempt to explain his presence, had changed anything. "Kill him and check if she hid the money in the car before she ran off." After that he hadn't even bothered to try to clear up the situation anymore. The simultaneous firing of three guns had made it quite obvious that the three men weren't exactly in a talkative mood.
And so, relieved that they weren't immortals and with nowhere to run (or hide), he had waited for the inevitable. It hadn't taken long for the bullets to impact with his body. When he had died, it had been to the rather comforting thought that he was going to kill Amanda as soon as he saw her next.
Of course, he should have been suspicious when Amanda had asked him to wait for her in that godforsaken area somewhere in Nagasaki, on a street that wasn't even mentioned on a decent map.
Knowing his luck, Amanda had decided to rob the yakuza.
He would kill Amanda, Methos decided. And then Duncan, who was supposed to go with her on this trip but then couldn't, probably because of something that nobody but the Highlander would consider an emergency. And then he should maybe kill himself for being so stupid in the first place to fall for Amanda's scheme. One would think the last 5000 years had taught him a few things at least. Especially about women like Amanda, no matter how much he usually enjoyed her company. Nothing good could come out of such things, certainly not with her. Next time, he would stick strictly to his 'only have a drink' rule. It would be much healthier for him. No doubt about it.
But he would deal with her later. Once he had found out just what was going on here, why he was in what – from his current position on the ground – looked like a spacious garden instead of lying in that dirty street, beside the rental car, either dead or just reviving, or whatever should be happening to him at the moment.
With some effort, Methos sat up and looked around. His first impression had been right. He was in some kind of garden. A really large one, complete with blooming Sakura.
How could they bloom at this time of the year?
In the distance, he could make out a building, massive, like a rock in a sea of green grass and flying white petals. And that was all there was to see. No people (but maybe he should be grateful for that because he certainly didn't need any more complications, least of all in the form of another immortal), nothing else.
In fact, everything looked pretty normal. Apart from the blooming Sakura, the absence of people and the part where he couldn't possibly be here because he was lying dead in some nameless street; shot.
Something very odd was going on here and Methos wasn't really sure if he wanted to find out just what it was. After surviving for so long, curiosity did tend to take a backseat in favor of survival. And this was something he had never experienced before. Mind you, it didn't mean it couldn't happen. After all, demons obviously existed as well and Methos never claimed to know everything (mostly this was just the first reaction of those who discovered his real identity), but he hadn't even heard of something like that yet. In fact, he didn't even know what he should name it.
He jumped to his feet when he saw a figure approaching him, instinctively making a move to grab his sword. He couldn't feel the presence of another immortal, but the situation was so strange that anything could be possible. The disconcerting absence of his weapon threw him off balance and so Methos stumbled back, falling heavily to the ground. With a curse, he immediately scrambled to his feet again, his eyes never leaving the approaching figure. No, two figures, both men. Or rather a man and a boy because the second figure was small enough that he walked half hidden in the shadow of his companion.
For a moment longer the two of them seemed to be lost in conversation, but then they noticed him. The taller of the two, clothed in a trench coat much like Methos', looked at him with open curiosity, while the gaze of the younger man seemed alarmed.
The first thing Methos noted as they approached him was the lack of swords. The second thing he noticed was the colors of their eyes. The boy's eyes were striking green whereas the eyes of the taller man were a startling violet. Methos blinked once, the only admission he allowed himself to express his surprise. Nobody had such eyes. Nobody could have such eyes. Never in all his life had he seen something like that.
"Is he the one?" the taller of the two asked without introduction as they came to a halt in front of him. He smiled at Methos.
The boy sighed, not really in annoyance, but rather in resignation. "Tsuzuki, if you hadn't been late for the meeting or had at least paid attention then, you would know that this can't be him. We are looking for a woman. That definitely isn't one."
Bright boy. Methos might have been many things in his life, but female certainly wasn't one of them. That they were looking for a woman and didn't seem to be out for a fight, not at the moment at least, was only a small solace however. They weren't immortals, but there was something about them that didn't seem to be entirely human either. Not in the same way Ahriman had been, though, and for that Methos was really grateful. Still, he hadn't survived for so long by being careless, so he kept his guard up.
"Who are you?"
Keep them talking. Maybe then they wouldn't think about doing anything strange until he had found his sword again, or at the very least until he had figured out just what was going on here.
"Ah, sorry. We were so focused on our work," – the younger man snorted at the words of his companion – "that we forgot to introduce ourselves. I'm Tsuzuki Asato and this is my partner Hisoka Kurosaki. We--"
"Where am I?" Methos interrupted him.
"Meifu."
"Meifu? Is that--?" Actually, Methos had no idea what it could be, so he let the sentence trail out, turning it into a half-question instead.
"The underworld."
Obviously Methos had been in the wrong when he had assumed that only something wasn't right. "The underworld," he repeated, dumbfounded. Then, just when the older of the two had opened his mouth, but before he could say something: "You are crazy", he concluded and prepared to back away carefully, so slowly that the others wouldn't notice it until it was too late. With any luck. A different kind of luck than the one that had catapulted him right here, to this strange place and into the company of... those two. After all, one couldn't be too careful with those who had a problem distinguishing between reality and fantasy.
The boy sighed impatiently. "You are in Meifu. Souls tend to arrive here once they have died. Not exactly here, though," he said and turned to his partner. "How can he be here?" the boy, Hisoka Kurosaki, asked the older man.
"So this Meifu is—", Methos interrupted them, before the other could answer. He didn't have time for strange games.
"It's neither heaven nor hell. Don't worry."
That was certainly very easily said when one wasn't in Methos' position, who still had no clear idea of just what was going on. Apart from what they told him, but that sounded too surreal to be true. "What am I doing here?"
"That is a really good question. Nobody should be here."
"Then what are you doing here?" Methos asked.
"We work here."
Methos nodded. "All right. So we are in the underworld, and you work here. Doing what? Cleaning the garden? Helping—"
"In fact, we are shinigami."
"Shinigami," Methos repeated, stupefied. That was not really an answer he had expected.
"Guardians of Death," the one with the violet eyes explained patiently, as if Methos were just a child.
It annoyed him. "I know what shinigami are. I was around when the name was invented," he snapped. Not quite true, but it could have been. And maybe he was and had just forgotten about it. "But you aren't real! You can't be real. I have died countless times already, but I have never encountered one of you." Rather they were much like Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy. Methos was pretty sure about that.
"You what? Oh, you are one of them!" Tsuzuki Asato exclaimed, clearly excited.
"One of them?" asked Methos and Hisoka in unison. Methos' voice sounded wary, while Hisoka's was curious.
"You are an immortal, aren't you? One of those who cannot die a peaceful death. The Count told me about you when I first joined Shokan. But it's the first time that I have seen one of you!"
"What are these immortals, Tsuzuki?" Hisoka asked.
"It's just as the name says. They are immortal. They can't die. Not the normal way. They are not for us. Their names never appear on the Kiseki. I don't know much more either. You should go and ask the Gushoshin. I'm very sure that they have a file on them and they like you enough to tell you everything they know," Tsuzuki said, smiling brightly at the boy who, in return, only scowled.
"Then what am I doing here?" Methos asked, half resigned to the strange fate that had brought him together with these two, well, self-proclaimed shinigami. "I'm not dead. Not really. I just got shot and so, according to you, I shouldn't be here." That's at least what he hoped. Certainly, those yakuza had no idea just what he really was and would have been satisfied with shooting him. However, the events were rather disconcerting. Death was supposed to come with darkness, with nothing, and not this here. This was more like a feverish dream. Or some drug induced hallucination, neither of which could be because he had been shot. A nice, clean death.
"Don't worry," Tsuzuki said. "You are not dead. You are somewhere between life and death. Probably," he continued, a helpful smile on his lips. "In any case, you are not here to be judged."
"Probably? And what are you doing here?" It was easier to just play their game until this, whatever this was, was resolved and he could wake up.
"As I said already, we are shinigami. We work here. This is the outer district of Meifu. We were just passing through. What is your name?"
"Adam Pierson," Methos offered after a moment of hesitation.
Out of the corners of his eyes, Methos could see the boy shaking his head. "He calls himself Methos," Hisoka corrected him. Taken aback, Methos looked at the boy and found the green gaze completely focused on him, as if the boy was reading his insides, his very essence. Methos tried to stay calm, not to betray any of his emotions on the surface. After all, it couldn't be. Nobody could read another's mind. It was impossible. Just like the whole situation. None of this could be happening.
There were no such things as men with violet eyes, or boys who could read minds, both of them claiming to be creatures straight out of the realm of legends and myths.
Just like Ahriman.
Methos shook his head, forced the thought to go away. He didn't want to think about that. Preferably never again.
"I must apologize," Tsuzuki rushed in, putting a hand on Hisoka's shoulder. "To put it simply – he can read minds. Unintentionally. It's his special power," he said to Methos, then turned to Hisoka. His cheerful attitude gone, replaced by clear worry. "Are you all right, Hisoka? Do you want to go back?" Hisoka didn't even give any indication that he had heard his partner. He was still looking at Methos. It was more than just a bit disturbing to have that bright green gaze so completely focused on him. What did the boy see?
"You are Death," the teen suddenly said, his voice shaking.
For a moment they just looked at each other. Then Methos said: "That was in the past. Many lifetimes ago." He couldn't say just why he felt the need to explain himself, only that he had to. Maybe it was the boy's eyes, which suddenly seemed veiled and haunted.
"You were a monster."
This time Methos only nodded.
"You killed. So many lives. So many centuries," Hisoka said and Methos couldn't say if there was horror or amazement in the boy's voice. Maybe it was a mix of both.
"I did," he said. "Like all of my kind. It's the only way we can survive."
Tsuzuki turned away from Hisoka, while maintaining physical contact. The older shinigami's eyes rested on Methos, his gaze shadowed, maybe reflecting. Methos felt himself pulled into the sea of violet; felt the weight of unspoken history between them. He was drawn into the gaze, not quite drowning, but swimming against a strong tide. For a moment it seemed as if the only way he could survive this was by finding out what happened and by sharing memories of a past Tsuzuki couldn't possibly know anything about.
Then Tsuzuki broke the eye contact and the moment was over. Methos was glad for it. Shinigami or not, it didn't matter anymore. All Methos knew was that these two weren't human. The boy who could read his mind and Tsuzuki with his strange eyes. Eyes which seemed to pierce his soul and prompted Methos to tell him everything that had happened, in order to make him understand. It was unsettling. The last time Methos had felt the urge to make somebody understand had been after Bordeaux, his own special hell, when the Highlander and Methos had tried to fix the remains of their friendship. It had been worth it, because he considered the Highlander a friend, so the urge had been understandable. Not so now.
"Stop, Hisoka," Tsuzuki interrupted his thoughts, voice laced with concern for the teenager. "I heard that some of them have lived for millennia. You can't control the flow of so many memories and lives. Nobody can do that." For a moment longer, Hisoka kept his eyes fixed on Methos, then, when Tsuzuki pressed his shoulder, he broke the gaze and Methos could finally breathe again.
"You are one of the old ones, aren't you?" Tsuzuki asked while Hisoka eyed Methos warily.
"I really don't think that my age is your concern. Where is my sword?" he then asked, feeling bare and vulnerable without it after everything he had experienced here so far.
"Probably with your body. You are currently dead. A soul. Why would you need it here?"
"I think it's about time for me to go," Methos replied, knowing that there was not much he could do. If the two of them had told the truth, and he didn't have many doubts about that anymore, he was stuck here, at least for the time being.
"Maybe we should inform the Chief, or at least Tatsumi. Maybe they can send him back," Hisoka interrupted them.
Methos thought it was a fantastic idea, but before he could voice his agreement, Tsuzuki shook his head. "It won't be necessary. By the time we get back, he would most likely be gone already. It's not his time to be judged. He is dead, but not our concern. None of them could do anything. He shouldn't even be here," Tsuzuki said once more.
Methos agreed, but it didn't change his current situation, in which he was right here, of course.
"Your kind revives quickly, don't they?" Tsuzuki said before Methos could point out this little fact to him.
"Most of the time yes. If nobody takes our head first."
Hisoka winced. Maybe he had seen one of those fights in Methos' mind.
"Then you would probably have moved on already, so I think it's safe to say that your head is still attached to your body," Tsuzuki told him with a slight smile. It was a small consolation, seeing that the two had no more of an idea why he was here than Methos did. So Methos just hoped that Tsuzuki was right. He had no desire whatsoever to spend the rest of his time running around here, no matter how beautiful the place was. Not that he had wanted to die to begin with, but that was a given. "It's a pity, though," Tsuzuki said.
When Methos looked at him, questioningly, Tsuzuki continued, "You must have seen so much. Good and bad. If you could stay dead a bit longer, you could invite me to have some cake in this wonderful new sweets store in Omura and then you could tell me all about your experiences while we wait together for your revival."
"I could invite you?"
Tsuzuki grinned. "Ah, you see, our salaries aren't exactly—"
"Tsuzuki! Don't even think about it! We have a case we need to look into! You have no time for such things. If you slack off again, we'll both be in trouble with the Chief! Besides, your salary would be high enough, if you would stop destroying buildings!"
Tsuzuki looked crestfallen. "Don't be so harsh, Hisoka. The last time wasn't really my fault. It was just—" Methos tried to hide the smile -- his first since this strange encounter had started -- that threatened to come up during their exchange.
"Right. It was just you and Terazuma destroying the newly restored library, I know. We all do," Hisoka said, then he sighed with the resignation of someone who knew that it would be hopeless. A bit like the Highlander and himself, Methos realized. "But we should still get going," Hisoka finished.
Tsuzuki nodded. "Will you be all right alone?" he asked Methos.
"You are really shinigami, aren't you?" Methos asked instead of answering.
"I would say so."
"Nobody will ever believe this," Methos muttered.
Tsuzuki laughed. "No, they probably won't. But you won't either."
"What do you mean?"
"As soon as you revive, you will most likely forget about us again. It's the nature of things. You aren't supposed to be here after all and shouldn't have met us." Methos had a very hard time imagining that he would ever forget this encounter, no matter if it had been real or not. Tsuzuki laid an arm around Hisoka's shoulder, a casual, yet somehow very intimate gesture. The teenager stiffened at first, but then relaxed ever so slightly. "I would love to keep you company, but we really need to get going. Tatsumi is a slave driver when it comes to work. But you should wake up soon enough."
Methos nodded, resisting the urge to find out just who Tatsumi was. Then, just as Tsuzuki made a move to turn away, a thought crossed his mind, "Tsuzuki, do all souls come here once they die? I mean really die, not like me? Normal humans?"
"Usually they will arrive at the place where they were born. Excluding those who have no roots anywhere anymore."
Methos ignored the clear, if unspoken 'maybe like you?' It wasn't what concerned him. "Are all those places like your Meifu?"
After a brief, thoughtful moment Tsuzuki nodded. "With slight variations, befitting the culture, I think. The souls should be comfortable when they go to be judged. Death itself is nothing to be afraid of after all."
This time Methos didn't try to hide his smile. "Thank you." Then it was good. Alexa would have loved this place. It was a relief to know that there had been something like this waiting for her after she had left him.
"Is there anything else?" Tsuzuki asked. Hisoka looked on impatiently.
Methos shook his head. "Not if you are sure that I will return to my body again."
"You will. Goodbye, Methos. Live a long life. An even longer one, I mean. I will eat a piece of cake for you and maybe we will meet again at some point. Come, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said and before Methos could say anything, they were gone. Not just gone, but it looked as if they had flown away.
Which couldn't be, of course. Just like the rest of the encounter, but Methos knew better than to question it any further.
And then it didn't matter anymore, because a burning pain in his chest distracted him very effectively. With a gasp, Methos fell to his knees, his hand involuntarily clutching at his pullover in a vain attempt to make the pain more bearable
Methos was panting when he opened his eyes, then almost jumped back when he found himself face to face with the fine features of a woman. Not just any woman, but Amanda. "There you are! Finally! Welcome back!"
"Amanda," he managed to bring out somehow, for a moment too confused to say anything else. He felt... strange, almost like somebody who had just woken up from a very vivid dream, not quite asleep anymore, but not really awake yet either, caught between two different worlds.
"In the flesh. I had to leave you alone, temporarily," she said, apologetic, then sat down beside him. "Bullets don't really agree with my outfit." Methos shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind and sat up, realizing that he was in a car. Not the one he had rented, but a smaller one, flashier than the old Jeep he had chosen. Amanda started the car.
"Please tell me you didn't rob the yakuza," Methos said as memories returned to him.
"There are questions you shouldn't ask if you aren't sure that you will like the answers. But don't worry. We are alone now and very soon we will be on a flight to Tokyo for our planned and, if I may say so, well-deserved vacation," she said, beaming at him.
Methos groaned. "Remind me of this next time you ask me to come with you. I'm too old for such things."
"It keeps you young, old man," Amanda said, grinning brightly. "But I was worried. You took a very long time to revive..."
Methos frowned as a string of memories suddenly flooded his mind, clearly his, but at the same time he couldn't really connect to them. They felt familiar and strange at the same time, like a warm blanket that was just a little bit too short. "I was—" He stopped when the images that had been so clear just a moment ago seemed to flee his grasp, leaving only the strange echoing remembrance of eyes far too bright violet to be true. After a moment longer, he shook his head. "Never mind", he said then. After all, he had been dead, so there couldn't have been anything. "When does our plane leave?" Maybe they still had time for a short stop. Methos felt a strong craving for something sweet to eat.
Fin