A Plan In Motion
Disclaimer: I own all of them, and if anyone says differently, I'll… I don't know, I just will
Notes: I am a horrible speller. Please forgive me.
Rating: For now, PG if that
Pairing: this is a Methos/Duncan story so naturally it's slash or will be
Warnings: Nope, none that I can think of.
Feedback: Please!! It's all I survive on. To reach me simply e-mail me at:
tina_nielson@hotmail.com
Summary: Cassandra has plan to prevent Duncan and Methos from becoming friends, only it doesn't exactly go as planned. Feedback is very, very deeply appreciated.
It had been six years and it still cut. The words "I want him to live" still echoed in her ears, ringing in her dreams. She was filled with a raging sense of betrayal. It wasn't Duncan's fault. He was still innocent, emotionally vulnerable and that whoreson had taken advantage of him, getting himself a protector. She didn't blame Duncan, but she did have a way to prevent it from ever happening…
The band wasn't bad, but they weren't ever going to be famous. But, then again, that's what he'd though about that little amateur Delilah, Brintey Spears. And all those talent less boy bands that are so big right now. Hey, even a 5000-year-old man can be wrong once in a while. Not often mind you, but like Joe said, the young make mistakes. The 60's for example. Just goes to show how unpredictable the young could be, buying all those CD's of people they won't even remember in five years.
"Hey, Joe, I'm almost empty here!"
"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on, your not the only one who needs to be served you know." Came the exasperated reply from the bar. Alrighty, fair enough. He could wait, for a minute or two. If he had to.
Joe looked up as he saw Methos stiffing in the way that all Immortals do when one of their own is coming. In this case, it just was a very dirty looking Scotsman. A very ticked off looking Scotsman.
"The strongest thing you have Joe, Something large."
"It's nice to see you to, Mac. What the hell happened?"
"Some idiot with a big sword, bigger attitude and a really small brain capacity. The drink, Joe?"
"Yeah, sure. Who was it?" asked Joe as he handed him his favourite drink
"Don't know, don't care, and it doesn't matter anymore anyway."
"Hello, Mac"
"Hi Methos. My day sucked, how was yours"
Yeah, right. I was gonna tell him my day was great. I didn't have to teach any morning classes so I got to sleep in, the test I gave my students this afternoon went on with barely any moaning or groaning with little to no last minute protestations of 'I didn't have time', and with the exception of Tommy Johnson, who was the class clown, the class actually paid attention for once. "Lousy. It's raining, my class was a pain and all I heard was 'We're not ready for the test yet Dr. Pierson'"
We stayed until past closing, killing time, and generally relaxed until Joe announced that if we didn't leave soon he was going to start to charge us rent. We teased him good naturedly about being an old man and needing his sleep until he glared at us and said that we didn't have any right to talk, considering our respective ages.
"Well, Mac, it looks like we've worn out our welcome, let's go"
As Mac and I turned to go we both felt the 'hum' of another immortal close by, weak, but getting stronger. We both turned to Joe, telling him to get to cover, as we knew no friends were presently in town, when we froze. There, in the middle of the room (looking remarkably like the transport beam from that old TV. Show, Star Trek) a little green light was forming to reveal a tall, muscular figure that had an amazed look on his face.
There, in the middle of the room, wearing a kilt and very long hair was a barbaric looking…Duncan MacLeod?
To be continued…
Any body still there. You are! Great. Could you do me favour and review this for me, tell me what you think? Tell me to go on, or just crawl back into my hole where I dream of a good fanfics writer. I won't cry /sniff/, honest.
Disclaimer: I own all of them, and if anyone says differently, I'll… I don't know, I just will
Notes: I am a horrible speller. Please forgive me.
Rating: For now, PG if that
Pairing: this is a Methos/Duncan story so naturally it's slash or will be
Warnings: Nope, none that I can think of.
Feedback: Please!! It's all I survive on. To reach me simply e-mail me at:
tina_nielson@hotmail.com
Summary: Cassandra has plan to prevent Duncan and Methos from becoming friends, only it doesn't exactly go as planned. Feedback is very, very deeply appreciated.
It had been six years and it still cut. The words "I want him to live" still echoed in her ears, ringing in her dreams. She was filled with a raging sense of betrayal. It wasn't Duncan's fault. He was still innocent, emotionally vulnerable and that whoreson had taken advantage of him, getting himself a protector. She didn't blame Duncan, but she did have a way to prevent it from ever happening…
The band wasn't bad, but they weren't ever going to be famous. But, then again, that's what he'd though about that little amateur Delilah, Brintey Spears. And all those talent less boy bands that are so big right now. Hey, even a 5000-year-old man can be wrong once in a while. Not often mind you, but like Joe said, the young make mistakes. The 60's for example. Just goes to show how unpredictable the young could be, buying all those CD's of people they won't even remember in five years.
"Hey, Joe, I'm almost empty here!"
"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on, your not the only one who needs to be served you know." Came the exasperated reply from the bar. Alrighty, fair enough. He could wait, for a minute or two. If he had to.
Joe looked up as he saw Methos stiffing in the way that all Immortals do when one of their own is coming. In this case, it just was a very dirty looking Scotsman. A very ticked off looking Scotsman.
"The strongest thing you have Joe, Something large."
"It's nice to see you to, Mac. What the hell happened?"
"Some idiot with a big sword, bigger attitude and a really small brain capacity. The drink, Joe?"
"Yeah, sure. Who was it?" asked Joe as he handed him his favourite drink
"Don't know, don't care, and it doesn't matter anymore anyway."
"Hello, Mac"
"Hi Methos. My day sucked, how was yours"
Yeah, right. I was gonna tell him my day was great. I didn't have to teach any morning classes so I got to sleep in, the test I gave my students this afternoon went on with barely any moaning or groaning with little to no last minute protestations of 'I didn't have time', and with the exception of Tommy Johnson, who was the class clown, the class actually paid attention for once. "Lousy. It's raining, my class was a pain and all I heard was 'We're not ready for the test yet Dr. Pierson'"
We stayed until past closing, killing time, and generally relaxed until Joe announced that if we didn't leave soon he was going to start to charge us rent. We teased him good naturedly about being an old man and needing his sleep until he glared at us and said that we didn't have any right to talk, considering our respective ages.
"Well, Mac, it looks like we've worn out our welcome, let's go"
As Mac and I turned to go we both felt the 'hum' of another immortal close by, weak, but getting stronger. We both turned to Joe, telling him to get to cover, as we knew no friends were presently in town, when we froze. There, in the middle of the room (looking remarkably like the transport beam from that old TV. Show, Star Trek) a little green light was forming to reveal a tall, muscular figure that had an amazed look on his face.
There, in the middle of the room, wearing a kilt and very long hair was a barbaric looking…Duncan MacLeod?
To be continued…
Any body still there. You are! Great. Could you do me favour and review this for me, tell me what you think? Tell me to go on, or just crawl back into my hole where I dream of a good fanfics writer. I won't cry /sniff/, honest.