Old Tricks

By wnnepooh

Notes: Not beta'd. My first CSI:Miami fic. Post-Ep for "Lost Son." Like no one thought about THIS ending. No spoilers – even the actor told people his character was being killed off. CSI:Miami x-over w/Highlander.

His head hurt. That was the first thing he noticed. As he tried to sit up, he realized his chest didn't feel so great, either. And then there was that tingling in the back of his head that really wasn't helping anything. Managing to level up and get his torso in an upright position, he looked down his body, over the sheet to where his feet were exposed and noticed the manila card tied to is toe.

"Had to be Delko," he grumbled, and tried to lean over to remove the coroner's tag. The movement brought the headache slamming back, not to mention initiating an ache in his ribs and chest that hurt all the way to his groin. Deciding to leave the tag for later, he chanced a glance around the room. "What the hell am I doing in the ME's lab?"

"Playing dead" came the response from seemingly nowhere.

He looked over his shoulder, finding an old but familiar face greeting him from the main doorway area. "Pierson? That you?" He watched the man approach, the slight smile on his face marred only by the slight crease in his brow.

"I brought some clothes. I do hope they fit," he intoned slowly, tossing the dufflebag onto the metal table next to his friend. "You're a bit heftier than when I saw you last."

Shaking his head, he tried to figure out how he'd lost his other clothes, his mind latching onto something as his hand flew to his chest. "I was shot." His eyes widened as he looked down, noting the small puckered area of the bullet hole, which was eclipsed by the discovery of a vague outline of the Y-incision Alexx had used in his autopsy. "Pierson, man – what the HELL?"

Adam sighed. "I didn't hear about it right away, so I didn't get here in time. They autopsied you, Tim."

He didn't respond immediately, just looked at the toe tag on his foot and shook his head. "But to do that – I'd have to be dead." He looked to Adam's stern face.

"You were."

"And now I'm alive again?" Tim watched his old college buddy nod, but didn't believe it. "Tell me we're still at Columbia and we're just coming off a weekend binge..." but Adam was shaking his head. "You're serious?" Tim watched Adam nod. "You're nuts, man." But then he looked down at the tag, clearly seeing his last name – SPEEDLE – emblazoned across it in shaky, black print. He rubbed the itching incision on his chest, the movement warming him only slightly. It was then he noticed the cold sinking into him. For such a familiar place, it was suddenly just a tad bit creepy. Rubbing a hand over his chest, he shivered once with the reality of the situation.

"The itching will stop in about an hour. Your first healings will be slow," Adam stated in his clipped British accent as Tim just stared at him. "Until you gather some strength, that is. Here," he said as he handed his old classmate a shirt from the bag, "put this on. We've got about 15 minutes before that hawk of an M.E. realizes I'm not from the mortuary."

"Mortuary?" Speed didn't question further, figuring he hadn't heard the word right since his head had been wrapped in t-shirt. "Look man – whatever the hell this is, I gotta talk to H..."

Adam shook his had gravely. "You can't talk to anyone. At least not now." His friend looked at him, clearly unable to comprehend things clearly just yet. "As soon as I get you out of here, I'll explain further. But for right now –"Pierson sighed and cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the doors. "You were dead. Now you're not. There's no rhyme or reason to it, it just is. There's only harm to be done by telling anyone else." He watched as Tim dressed, obviously used to hurrying. He smiled as the man jumped down off the metal table and presented himself for approval. "You look perfect," Adam commented dryly, "for a dead man. Now – out the back door."

Tim turned the tag over in his fingers, still fascinated by the morbidity of it all. "Can I keep this?"

Pierson smiled as they made their way through the back doors into the parking lot and over to his rental car. The bright Miami sun was doing wonders for his naturally pale skin. It was a shame he couldn't stay longer, maybe soak up some of that sun and warm his soul a bit. It had been too long since he'd been in a warm climate, let alone near a beach. He had to think about Tim's safety, though, weighed against the lure of sand and surf. Maybe this was just the excuse he needed to go home – to the Mediterranean. He put his sunglasses on and looked up for just a moment, soaking up a few last rays.

"Adam?" Tim asked as he waited for his friend to get in the car.

"Sorry," Pierson apologized, then slipped into the driver's seat. He turned to find Tim buckling up in the Lincoln's passenger seat. "Just contemplating our travel plans."

For the first time in 20 minutes, Tim saw his friend smile the way he'd remembered – easygoing and mischievous. "Travel plans?"

"First we hit New York, then on to sunnier climes," Adam began, as he pulled into traffic. "You'll be a new man after it all, I promise." He gave his friend a sly smile. "New clothes, new hair, new name..."

"I already got a name," Tim protested.

Adam sighed. This was the tough part. "You had a name. Timothy James Speedle is gone, Killed in the Line of Duty."

"But I'm not dead," Tim protested. "I'm sitting right here."

"Your body is," Adam admitted grudgingly, "but your name is history. Technically, you're gone. You're a non-entity." He took a deep breath. "Just like the rest of us."

"Rest of you?" Speed shook his head. "Tell me this isn't something I forgot from college. Tell me the rest of the Frat isn't part of this..." he pleaded.

"Well, Greeks of another kind, I suppose," Pierson confessed, then sighed. "It's a long drive to New York," he stated calmly. "I'll explain it all on the way. But just so we start it off right – my name isn't really Adam Pierson."

"I'm guessing that," he replied angrily. "So, who the hell are you?"

"Not who the hell AM I, but who the hell have I been?" He smiled as Tim shifted in the seat. "I've been a lot of things and a lot of names."

"Let's go with the one you use most," Tim offered. "Or maybe the one you trust me to know."

Adam smiled. "Methos," he replied, watching Speed's face for the inevitable connection.

Speed shook his head. "You've become the guy you were researching in college?"

"That," he replied with a laugh, "is a tale left to another time. Suffice it to say, I was researching myself. A rather brilliant plan since I'm the leading authority on me."

Tim sighed and rubbed his itching chest. "I need coffee and food before we continue this. Cause right now it sounds like you're claiming to be a 5000 year old man."

"We'll stop in the next town," Methos conceded. "And I'm actually a little older than 5 millenia. Only by a few hundred years, but that's enough."

Tim hung his head. "I'm dead and this is my penance for sneaking peeks in the girls' locker room all these years."

Methos laughed. "Bet Ms. Duquesne was worth every eyeful."

Tim smiled widely.

"You're not in Pergatory, Tim," Methos commented slowly. "You're in the Game."

"The Game? There's a game with this rebirth thing?"

Adam took the off-ramp for the next town, seeing a restaurant sign just down the street. "Look, you're not reborn – you're Immortal."

Speed nodded in an over-exaggerated way. "And that's not gonna make me run for the hills?"

"No," Methos admitted as he pulled the car into the parking lot. "Because if there's anything you are, Tim, it's curious. I knew that from the minute you walked into the Frat house and began searching for a room." He sized up the man sitting next to him, rectifying the man he knew 15 years before with the man he'd just rescued. "This is new and you're wondering what to make of it. Well, the real horror comes later, when you find out what you have to do to STAY in this Game. But for now," Methos sighed, "for now, we start with the basics. You live, you die, you live again. Just don't lose your head."

"Lose my head?" Tim questioned as they headed for the diner's front door. "I'm not about to lose my head, but you're lucky I haven't gone medieval on you..."

"Now, see" Methos chuckled. "Of the two of us, I'm really the only one qualified to 'go medieval' since I lived through it..."

Tim shook his head. "I think I need a drink."

Methos chucked his friend on the shoulder. "Order what you want," he said as they were seated. "We've got a long trip ahead of us..."

Back at the Miami-Dade Police Labs, Alexx stared at the empty slab in front of her, then at the sheet lying haphazardly on the floor. Shaking her head, she grabbed her cell phone and dialed a number. "Horatio – it's gone. Tim's body is gone. A guy came in, said he was from the mortuary and handed me papers. I..." she stopped and tried to control her emotions. "I didn't think anything of it until the OTHER guy showed up...."

"It's okay," came the voice over the loudspeaker in the lab.

Alexx looked up to the observation area as a light went on and Horatio Caine stepped forward into sight. Knowing the intercom was on, she turned off her cell phone. "But why would anyone want to take his body? And where?"

Horatio shook his head. "I can't answer that, Alexx." He said, sighing heavily. "I really can't."

Alexx pointed to the main doors. "What do I tell the man who's here?"

"Tell him," Caine hesitated, "tell him there's been a change in plans." He stopped again. "Tell him Tim Speedle requested cremation."

Alexx's eyes widened. "HORATIO!"

"Just tell him," Caine insisted. "I'll take it up with the family later." He watched her nod and walk out the doors, shaking her head as she went. Horatio looked down at the phone in his hand and hit a long-forgotten speed-dial number, waiting patiently for a voice on the other end. "Joe? Joe Dawson – it's Horation Caine... yeah, yeah. It HAS been a long time. I'm just fine. Yeah – I just saw an old friend of ours," he said and smiled. "Yeah, Adam Pierson's up to his old tricks..."

Finis

For now...