a crackfic, inspired by Highlander: the Source
"That cannibal took my jacket!"
"Methos. Don't you think there are more important-"
"I paid a fortune for that bloody jacket. Had to trade one of the last Chronicles on the black market just to-"
"METHOS!"
"Bastard." Methos yanked his hands against the ropes, shredding the skin from his wrists. "Ow. That fucking hurts. This mortality thing sucks."
"CAN YOU FORGET THE JACKET FOR ONE-" Duncan gaped as Methos managed to pull his wrist free of the rope, blood staining his skin.
"Dammit. That HURTS. I think I dislocated my thumb."
"Methos – comeon, untie me. I have to save Anna."
Methos rolled his eyes and produced a short dagger from a sheath at his ankle. "Stupid cannibals didn't even search me. Just wanted my jacket," he muttered as he sawed at the rope at his left hand. He rolled his eyes again at Duncan's call and shuffled over the wood frame to him. "This is all your fault, you know."
"My fault?" Duncan yanked at the rope desperately. "How is this my fault? You pulled me into this-"
"Stop moving around!" Methos hacked at the rope at Duncan's right hand, biting his lip in concentration. "It's your bloody girlfriend, MacLeod. You know, the chick with the visions?"
"Anna's my wife," Duncan insisted hotly. "And I didn't want anything-"
"Yeah yeah. You've never met a quest you didn't embrace with open arms. It was just a matter of time with this one."
"Methos, this was your quest. You called Joe-"
Methos' eyes flashed, and Duncan broke off. Okay. So, they weren't gonna discuss Joe. The rope finally broke, and Methos shoved the knife into Duncan's free hand before jumping down to the dirt.
"Where are you going??" Duncan shouted.
"I'm outta here."
"But what about the Source? Don't you-"
"Changed my mind. I draw the line at cannibals, MacLeod."
"What are you going to do?" Duncan sawed at the rope binding his wrist, fury bubbling over.
"First, I'm gonna find the jackass who stole my jacket. Then I'm going to slit his throat, nick whatever transportation I can get my hands on, and go back to where I instantly heal when I cut myself shaving. That explicit enough for you?" Methos' eyes glinted in the firelight, hard and black as obsidian. "When you decide to wake up and smell the mortality, don't look me up, okay?"
"METHOS-"
But he was gone, disappearing into the fog between the trees.