Methos had lived many lives over the millennia. He'd been both a scholar and a slave, a killer and a healer, a thief and a judge. He'd even been a monk at one time⦠although that had ended with a splash.
But none of those lives had prepared him for his strangest challenge yet.
That of being a companion.
"Just turn the knobbly thing to the left when I say so," The Doctor hollered, one leg up on the console as he dangled from the cables that hung from the Tardis's ceiling.
The Tardis reeled and Methos went flying through the air and skidded along the floor, his head meeting the wall with a resounding thump. Gingerly, he levered himself onto his elbows and eyed the console platform. Sparks danced around the controls, casting shadows across the room, and Methos quickly closed his eyes and let his head fall back onto the floor.
It didn't help; he didn't think anything would erase the freakish image of a twenty-foot shadow doctor attached to tentacle-like strings.
"What are you doing over there?" The Doctor asked irritably, glancing up from the tangle of wires he'd had his nose buried in.
"I'm taking a little nap. What does it look like I'm doing?" he threw back, trying to put some bite into the retort. It didn't work; he was just too bloody tired.
"I swear, you Immortals," the Doctor proclaimed, waving his sonic thing-gummy in the air. "A little dimensional turbulence and you go all wobbly at the knees."
Methos counted to ten and slowly got to his feet. He was beginning to feel like Shrodinger's cat
Was he alive? Was he insane? Was he hurtling through space and time in a blue wooden box?
Tune in and find out if the old man had finally lost it.
Methos shook his head, wincing as it immediately began to throb. It would be another few minutes before he was completely recovered, but he didn't have another few minutes. He stumbled towards the console and staggered up the steps, hanging onto the rails as the Tardis shuddered. The smell of hot metal tainted the air and a tut of concern came from above.
"The poor old girl can't take much more of this," the Doctor said, worry evident in his tone as he glanced downwards. "Ready?"
Methos shrugged. "As I'll ever be."
"Now."
Muttering a brief prayer to the Gods under his breath, Methos turned the dial. A hollow moan shuddered through the hull and, suddenly, the Tardis seemed to give a sigh of relief.
"Why did you rescue me?" Methos asked abruptly, as the Doctor grinned and landed lightly on the platform. "They were hundreds of people running for their lives, why me?"
The Doctor's grin widened as he clapped him on the shoulder. "Because you, my friend, said the immortal words."
Methos groaned at the pun. "And which words were those? Get me out of here?"
"Actually, it was more along the lines of 'and whose bright idea was it to let loose an army of psychotic peppershakers in London.'" The Doctor smirked. "Want to find out?"
