I do not own the Doctor, any one from Gallifrey, or Methos. No infringement or disrespect is intended
Shortly after Shada, but before Storm Warning.
The Tardis door closed behind Romana and K-9. The Doctor smiled fondly as he set the controls that would take him to his next adventure. His gaze roved over the Tardis. Suddenly, he spied a small book lying on a chair. Now, the Doctor did, admittedly, have several hundred books in the Tardis, but he knew what they all were, and this one was a new one on him. Actually, it looked very old, but the point was, it was new to him. Drat, he must have accidentally absconded with one of the Professor's. Granted, the Professor had a few books that he had no business having, and the Doctor had no intention of trying to take over the universe or any such thing, but there was the principle of the thing. Annoyed with himself for not noticing it in time to give to Romana to return to the library on Gallifrey and anticipating a return to his boring homeworld, the Doctor picked up the volume.
Odd symbol, he thought. Ah, yes, it's the symbol for Eye of Rassilon, one more possession of the old boy's. Intrigued, the Doctor began reading, quickly becoming absorbed in the tome's contents.
Some time later, when he was finished with the book, the Doctor closed it, an amazed expression on his face. All thought of returning to Gallifrey had flown out of his mind. He needed to go back to Earth, right now.
XXXXX
In five thousand years, Methos had seen a lot of strange things, but seeing a blue box materialize in the middle of Seacouver out of nothingness was something altogether new. He'd been drunk many times, and never once hallucinated. Now, he was stone cold sober and doing so. Something was off.
A moment later, the box opened to allow a man dressed in something like what he'd worn back when he and Byron were chasing women and drinks across Europe to exit. Spying Methos, the stranger ambled over.
"Excuse me sir, what year is this?" the man asked in a cultured, puzzled tone.
"Nineteen-ninety-nine, by the current calendar. Tell me- how did you-" Methos began.
His query was cut short when the stranger nodded. "Excellent. The exact year I was aiming for. You are an Immortal, are you not?"
The world's oldest man took a step back. "Beg pardon?" For a second, Methos thought perhaps he had missed the buzz in his confusion over seeing that box appear. However, he was quite certain that this was not another Immortal.
"Well, I had the scanner set to focus on the oldest person with D2NA, and it chose you, therefore, you must be Immortal. I'm the Doctor, by the way."
"The Doctor? Like - Hippocrates? Shouldn't you be in a toga?" Methos asked politely.
The man chuckled. "No. It's a title I've adopted, but I'm not THAT old, though I could go back and visit the old boy, should I choose to. Time machines are marvelous things. Aren't you going to ask me what D2NA is?"
"That was my next question," Methos nodded. "But, honestly, I do not like to discuss words like that one you used in public."
"Of course, of course. Won't you step inside the Tardis?" the Doctor asked.
"The- what?"
"Just follow me," the Doctor smiled enigmatically, then gestured to indicate that Methos should step inside the box.
"Uh- look, I'm not, I don't think it will hold both of us," Methos argued, then found himself stepping into a huge room. "I take it back. How the -"
"It's bigger on the inside than the outside," the Doctor explained.
"Oh."
"And, no, I don't want to whack off your head," he continued. "Have a seat. Please. Tea?"
"I prefer beer," Methos said, recovering himself as he sat. "A very strong one."
"I'll be right back."
The Doctor vanished into the recesses of the Tardis. The type forty model's kitchen was a great distance from the entrance, after all. When he returned, Methos was on his feet, sword in hand. "I found this Watcher's journal here- and my next question is, how did you get it? It's written in a language I do not know, and there are none on Earth that fall into that category, except, perhaps modern slang."
"Easy now. That's the point, no pun intended. This is not an Earthly language, it's ancient Gallifreyan. And the symbol on the cover is the Eye of Rassilon, well, the symbol for it. This is a very long story, and your beer is both strong and cold." He lifted the hand holding a stein. "German bock from three centuries ago. I simply want to exchange information, then let you out and be on my way. No blood need be shed."
Warily, Methos sheathed his sword, letting it vanish into the null space where he kept it between fights.
"Tell your story, but I warn you..."
"Oh, certainly, certainly." The Doctor settled down in an easy chair. "I mentioned Rassilon, who, along with Omega and the Other founded Time Lord Society. Rassilon wanted to be Immortal, and conducted many experiments to achieve it. In one trial, he worked with vampires. The results were not wonderful. He finally altered Gallifreyan genetics so that the Time Lords were created. Unlike normal citizens of our world, we regenerate when we die, but not into the same form as we had before our death. We change. Never know what we'll wake up looking like. Or what our personality will be. Unknown to most people, he tried again. Gallifrey is a sterile world, no children are born, we are woven on looms and come out fully grown. He thought perhaps that starting younger, forming infants, he could create beings who would be immortal, and regenerate into the same form after each death. I believe you see where this is going."
Methos' expression remained neutral. "Possibly, but that does not explain how it would help him."
"He also had great mental capabilities. I believe, if I interpret the words correctly, he planned to transfer his mind into an Immortal body, when he had the concept perfected. The High Council learned of his experiments, and shut it down, but had all these Immortal babies on their hands as a result. Even the Time Lords were not heartless enough to destroy the children, but they could not see allowing potential conquerors loose on Gallifrey. So, they appropriated his Time Scoop and scattered the children on a rather primitive planet, all across time. Realizing further that the children could grow up to be- dangerous to that world..."
"They created the Game. The idea that there can be only one." Methos found this whole story fascinating, despite himself. It was quite unbelievable, yet, it made sense.
"Yes. The Quickenings you all take are the vehicle old Rassilon designed so as to facilitate his transition to an Immortal body, or perhaps he wanted to transfer the Quickening power to his body and trust it to correct his method of regeneration to the superior pattern. To keep an eye on the Immortals, and make sure that the Game, as you call it, proceeded well, the Time Lords created the Watchers, normal humans who would do that, watch you all. I think it was originally intended that the Council would keep an eye, so to speak, on the Watchers, or communcate with them, somehow, but that got lost in the shuffle."
Methos sat and sipped his beer for a long time. "So, what am I supposed to do with this knowledge?"
"Stop the Game. It is pointless," the Doctor stated flatly. "There is no Prize, that's just some Gallifreyan trickery. Don't get me wrong, I do love my people, boring and devious though they be. But, this is wasteful. Your people could do so much good, if you did not have to worry about whacking off each others' heads."
Methos leaned forward. "Yes, but there are many among us who are evil. They still want all the power, whether or not their is a prize. Knowing that it's all a ruse won't stop them, and the Time Lords are right- collectively, we could become dangerous, a race of Ghengis Khans or other tyrants, even with as few as four of us banded together. No, I believe the Game is a good control method, for now. But, thank you. I have friends among the Watchers. They will find this information, valuable. Dawson might even clear my bar tab for a story this good."
The Doctor shook his head. "So, that's it? You'll just go on with your life?"
Methos rose, shrugging. "Why not? I've done it for five thousand years."