A ficlet request: I was given the prompts of

Methos/Marcus (B5)
Marcus' staff (interpret that how you like)

and I came up with

"Mindgames"
by M
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"Bloody hell..." Coming to with a raging headache the likes of which he hadn't had since discovering the Minbari equivalent of alcohol, Marcus groaned and rubbed gingerly at his temples. He bloody well hated dealing with the Immortals.

"Smarts does it?" The richly accented voice spoke from the shadows and he heard the distinct swish of his fighting pike as it moved through the air. "Terribly sorry," which he wasn't, "you know how I am about being taken unawares."

"Bloody grouchy about it." He grumbled, sitting up. "Must you hit me so hard?" And with his own fighting pike no less. He was never telling anyone about this. He was Anla'shok and he was quite certain this would have never happened to Ranger One. Of course, Sinclair was an Immortal in his own right and had the rather useful warning of the sense. "We've a war on you know, you might've killed me." Unlikely, he knew, but he wasn't about to give in too easily. Just yet.

Slowly turning, trying to minimize the ringing in his head, he faced the eldest of the Immortals. "Entil'zha wishes to see you."

"Jeff wants a lot of things he can't have. Always had a terrible habit of that." Methos drawled lazily. "Tried my damndest to work that out but, some character flaws are irredeemable." He toyed with Marcus' fighting pike in a manner that was just this side of indecent and Marcus flushed. "As I told that rather lovely Ms. Alexander, I've had my days of war and pestilence." He gave a smirk, settling back. "I'm retired."

Marcus resisted the urge to glare, reminding himself that Entil'zha had warned him of the ancient Immortal's troublesome mannerisms. "You've been retired for centuries, perhaps it's time to consider a career change."

"Hmm...no, I don't think so." Methos got up, still examining the pike. "Good craftsmanship on these," he hefted it, "suppose the Minbari'd consider adapting it for swords?"

"I don't know," Marcus couldn't resist snarking, "perhaps you should just come back to Minbar and ask."

"Hmmm..." The ancient Immortal regarded him with speculative eyes and he had the distinct impression he was being toyed with in some manner that really didn't much make sense. At least, not to anyone under five thousand years old. "Perhaps I will." Methos dropped the pike into Marcus' lap and stepped over him. "Come then, let's go find out just what my old pupil wishes for me to do." Disappearing into the other room, he left the stunned ranger sitting on the floor, gaping after him. "Don't suppose the Minbari've discovered beer yet, have they? Can't be very enlightened if they haven't..."

Methos, Marcus suspected, was trying to drive him mad.

fin