1247 heads and counting...

Scorpio

Email: Scorpio
Archive: Scorpio's Constellation, The Den, WWOMB and any list archives that might want it.
Fandom: Highlander: The Series
Pairing: None really.
Rating: PG
Warning: One naughty word and a bit of Richie groping. Nothing too bad.
Spoilers: Set at the very end of "Chivalry", just after Methos takes Kristin's head. Also, a few tongue in cheek references to "Comes a Horsemen".
Notes: The ep "Chivalry" always made me wonder a bit. I mean, why didn't Methos just go after Kristin himself from the very beginning? Instead of just hunting her down and taking her head, he tracked her to Seacouver and then tried to talk Mac into killing her and only did it himself *after* Mac backed down at the last minute. *Why?* Was it really in an effort to "teach" Mac some survival skills?...or was it for the same reason that he hadn't taken a head in centuries? And if it *was* because of the same reason Methos took himself out of the game, just what *is* that reason? And what happened in the
week between Methos taking Kristin's head and Richie stopping by the loft to tell the guys that Maria was in Martinique?
Disclaimer: Davis/Panzer Productions own these guys, not me. No money, no profit, no copyright infringement intended.

Summary: After Methos takes Kristen's head, he sinks into a form of Quickening induced temporary insanity.

Part 1

Duncan waited until the last of the Quickening energy died away before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. A brief irreverent thought about the marvels of the modern world flittered through his mind before he took a deep breath and called Richie. His former student answered after three rings and then they had a quick terse conversation as Duncan told him what had happened. Richie swore that he could be there in ten minutes and then he'd take Maria to the hospital so that Mac could take care of Adam. Duncan tried to warn Richie that the girl wasn't in any condition to ride on the back of the boy's bike, but Richie just said something about not forgetting how to "boost a car" no matter how long it had been and then hung up before Duncan could lecture him about grand theft auto.

With a sigh, Duncan closed his phone and tucked it back into his pocket. Turning to face Methos once again, he found his friend kneeling in the sand, his weight braced on his sword as he gazed in fascination at Kristin's decapitated head. Slowly, Duncan walked over and crouched down next to the other immortal and reached out to gently touch his shoulder.

"Methos? Are...are you okay?" Methos muscles were pulled taunt under his clothes and Duncan could feel wild tremors shaking his friend's body.

The older immortal nodded his head uncertainly and then whispered to him in tones of deepest confidence. "The Queen of Hearts was painting the roses red, but she'll share no tarts so off with her head!"

Duncan froze for a brief moment, merely blinking as he tried to figure out what Methos was blithering on about. "Er...?"

Methos turned to face him, his green eyes more than a little wild even as those absurdly long lashes made him seem so young. "Poor little Dormouse, trapped in a teapot and can't see the Cheshire Cat grin his pleasure at the turn of the game."

Duncan blinked again then squinted his eyes in suspicion. "Methos? Did Kristin hit you on your head?"

Methos somehow managed to look insulted. "I, Sir Caterpillar, am the Ace of Spades!" Duncan's eyes widened as he began to get the feeling that the old man wasn't trying to pull his leg with some twisted joke. A tendril of icy fear worked it's way into his gut and he stood up, gently pulling Methos up with him. Just as he was getting ready to lead the other immortal away, the still trembling man turned a face of pure curiosity up at him. "Do you think that the White Rabbit and the March Hare are brothers?"

With a strained smile on his face that looked more like a grimace, Duncan quickly guided Methos back across the beach and towards the stairs that would lead back to Kristin's house. "I don't know if they are brothers or not." Methos merely nodded his head sagely and continued to mumble under his breath about Cheshire Cats, strawberry tarts and playing croquet.

As soon as they reached the pool area where Maria was resting, Methos broke away from Duncan and knelt down beside the girl. He reached out one hand and petted her wet hair gently. "Poor little Dormouse." With a sigh, Duncan could only agree. Maria hadn't asked for any of this, she was an innocent that had been hurt, almost killed, because of an immortal. An immortal that he couldn't bring himself to stop. He felt guilty that he couldn't stop Kristin and he felt guilty that he was glad that Methos *could*, but that didn't change the fact that he'd most likely do everything exactly the same if given another chance.

Suddenly, the overwhelming presence of another immortal washed over him, setting up an almost painful throbbing buzz in the back of his head to reverberate down his spine. With a gasp, Methos jerked to his feet and clasped his head in both hands with his eyes squeezed shut.

"Ahhh! A hundred angry bees are stinging my brain!"

Duncan had only a brief second to reflect that he had never heard a better description for what that buzzing sensation actually felt like before he spotted Richie walking towards them. Slowly, the pain subsided and faded away to leave a slow throb of mere awareness and Methos seemed to calm down. "Honey poured over the bees and they nibble nibble nibble like a Queen on her tarts."

"Yeah..." Wondering if taking Kristin's Quickening had finally shattered the oldest immortal's somewhat shaky sanity loose, Duncan waved Richie over to them. He was just about to suggest that the boy take Maria to the hospital when Methos dashed passed him and pounced on Richie with a double armed bear hug. "Cassie!" One of the old man's hands drifted down and groped Richie on the ass and the red head yelped.

"Hey! Watch it with the hands!" With a grunt, Richie peeled Methos off of himself and shoved the other immortal away. Methos just chuckled and smirked at Duncan. "Ah...Cassandra always was a lusty wench!"

It looked like Richie was about to lay the old man out so Duncan quickly stepped between them. Richie's voice was a snarl of indignant anger and frustration. "What the hell, Mac! Adam just...just... I'm *not* a lusty wench, dammit!"

Duncan sighed in confused frustration and worry. "I...I'm not sure what's wrong with him. He's been like this since he took Kristin's head. Hopefully when the Quickening settles, he'll get his sanity back."

Richie's eyes narrowed. "He's insane from killing Kristin? Good!"

Pushed to his limits of patience, Duncan merely pointed behind the boy to the dripping wet and shivering Maria. "Tell it to her. Kristin drugged her and then tried to drown her! Adam only did what had to be done. Kristin was a *killer* Richie, no matter *how* good she was in bed."

With that, Duncan grabbed a hold of Methos by the coat, spun him around and led him off into the darkness. He needed to get the old man back to the loft and then call Joe. Maybe the Watcher would know what was going on.

"Going, bye-bye?"

Duncan grunted, "Yeah, Methos. We're going bye-bye."

***

The last customers were just leaving even as his staff began the nightly rituals that would get the bar clean, organized and ready for the next day. The stage area had long since been straightened up and the only thing that Joe had to do before he could go home and get some sleep was count up the night's profits and log it into his books. Hopefully, there wouldn't be any discrepancies or problems and he would be able to finish by the time the rest of the staff were ready to go home.

Halfway to his office, the phone rang. He heard his newest waitress, a pretty young thing named Alexa, answer it. "Joe, it's for you. It's someone named Duncan."

A slight shiver of dread worked it's way through him and Joe had that itchy feeling under his skin that told him without a doubt that this phone call wouldn't be bringing him good news. With a sigh, he nodded his head and called back over his shoulder. "Thanks, Alexa. I'll take it in my office."

He made his way to his office as quickly as he could, which after a long shift on his legs wasn't very fast. Still, as soon as he was in the room, he shut the door behind him and sat down at his desk. He picked up the phone and was about to say 'Hello' when MacLeod's voice came over the line in a tone filled with exasperation, "Dammit, Methos! Would you *please* put your clothes back on!"

Stunned, Joe could only suck in a deep breath and blink rapidly for a moment. Finally, he shook himself out of it and cleared his throat to get the immortal's attention. "Ah, MacLeod? You mind telling me what Methos is doing taking his clothes off?" Realizing what he'd just said, Joe rolled his eyes. "On second thought, I don't want to know. Some things really *should* remain in the 'Don't ask, Don't tell' category, you know?"

"Huh?" Duncan seemed confused for a brief second and then derision filled his voice. "Joe! How could you think such a...", Duncan sighed. "Nevermind. Look, it's not what you think. Honest. It's...well...Joe, what do you know about Quickenings driving immortals insane?"

It was Joe's turn to be confused. "MacLeod, what are you talking about? I mean, who took a Quickening and why do you think it drove them insane?"

There was a loud clatter on the other end of the phone and then Duncan murmured a breathy, "Shit, hold on a minute Joe." After that, Joe heard the distinctive sound of the telephone receiver hitting a hard surface and then some muffled thumping sounds. As if from a far distance, he could hear Mac's voice telling someone to "get down from there this very instant" and then there was a long loud howl of denial. After that, there was a long moment of silence and then the phone was being picked up again.

"Sorry about that Joe." Duncan sounded tired and frustrated.

"Don't worry about it, Mac. Just...just tell me what happened tonight. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

There was a long pause and Joe wasn't sure if MacLeod was going to tell him, but then the immortal sighed. It was a long suffering sound. "Methos and I went out and hunted down Kristin. He ended up taking her head in combat. Once the Quickening died down he was...different."

Joe felt his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "Different? Different how?"

"Joe...he was channeling Lewis Carroll."

Joe blinked in confusion. "Who?"

Another sigh. "Lewis Carroll. You know, the author of Alice in Wonderland? He kept going on and on about the Queen of Hearts, the White Rabbit and the Dormouse. Joe, he called me the Caterpillar. Do I look like a mushroom sitting, hookah smoking, giant caterpillar to you?"

Feeling a little like Alice himself, Joe wasn't sure what the correct answer to that last question was, "Ah...no?"

"Joe!" It was a frustrated growl. Joe knew that growl and he realized that Mac was at the end of his rope. With a sigh of his own and a shake of his head he spoke in a soothing tone of voice, "Okay, okay. Calm down. What is the old man doing now?"

"Now? Oh, that's easy. Right now, Methos is stripped down to his boxer shorts and is...flitting about the loft and flapping his arms while reciting Japanese poetry."

For a moment, Joe could only sit there with his jaw hanging down as his poor mind was assaulted with vivid mental images. Finally, he pulled himself out of his shock and began rubbing at his temple with his free hand. "Okay. I can almost understand the whole poetry thing..., but...what's with the flapping of his arms thing?"

MacLeod barked out a humorless laugh. "Oh, that's easy. He thinks that he is a butterfly."

"A butterfly?"

"Yup. Hence the whole, I think he's gone insane theory. It gets better. When I tried to tell him that he was really a man that only thought that he was a butterfly, he informed me that I'm really a butterfly that thinks he's a man."

Joe chuckled, but there wasn't anything mirthful about it. "Look. Just...try and keep him calm. Put him to bed or something. I'll look up a few things, make a few inquiries and head over in the morning with what I've found. Just...just don't let him leave. He'd be pretty vulnerable to any random head hunter if he's convinced he's a butterfly."

Duncan sighed again and Joe could almost hear the gears in his head spinning around and around. "Okay. I'll try and keep him as calm as possible. Just...try and find out what this is all about. Hopefully it's not permanent."

"Okay, Mac. I'll do what I can. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Joe hung up with a sigh and turned to his computer. While he waited for the system to boot up, he glanced over at his clock and calculated what time it was in Paris. The frustrating part of this mess was that normally when he had a problem like this, he would contact the old man. He was one of the best researchers that the Watchers had on his own and he had contacts in that department that could get him any information that he couldn't ferret out himself. Now, Joe had to do this without the old man's help. Instead...he was doing it to help Adam himself. It was going to be a long night.

***

Duncan was just putting the frying pan into the sink to cool and soak when the elevator started to rise from the dojo. Suppressing a sigh of relief, he walked over to the coffeemaker and poured some into a clean mug that was waiting there and then added just a touch of creamer and a single spoonful of sugar. Then he walked over to the elevator and waited. Seconds later he was rewarded with the sight of a tired, but smiling Watcher. Reaching out with his free hand, Duncan pulled the grate up and gestured Joe inside even as he handed over the mug of coffee.

"Thanks, Mac. I was up pretty late last night looking for..." Joe's voice trailed off even as he stared goggle-eyed over Duncan's shoulder with his jaw hanging open.

Almost against his will, his own head turned to look at the sight that had so startled and captivated the normally unflappable bluesman. There, in the living room stood Methos on top of the coffee table wrapped in a sheet toga-style. The old man had folded and twisted the material into authentic lines and folds. He would have looked quite good if it weren't for the fact that the sheets he had chosen were in a forest green, burgundy and gold paisley print. Somehow the dark colors and bold pattern managed to suck any dignity out of the "outfit" and turn it into pure ridiculousness. The fact that he was orating at the top of his voice didn't help matters any.

Finally, with a shudder Duncan looked away. "Come on Joe. Have a seat and I'll serve up some breakfast. We can talk at the table."

Joe nodded absently for a second before he managed to yank his mind away from staring at Methos. "What...what's he *doing*?"

Duncan sighed another one of his frustrated long-suffering sighs. "I'm not real sure. I don't speak Latin. I only know enough words and terms to recognize which language it is, but I'm far from fluent in it."

Joe began making his way over to the table and gestured with his coffee mug towards the old man giving a speech in a language that died out millennia ago. "That's Latin he's talking in? I wonder what he's saying..."

Duncan set three clean plates and three forks down on the table and then went back for the two breakfast platters. "I'm not certain, but I think that he's reliving a memory." He picked up one platter of sliced fresh fruits and one platter of eggs and bacon and walked back to the table.

Joe's one eyebrow raised up as he gazed thoughtfully at the lunatic on the coffee table. "A memory, huh?"

Duncan nodded his head. "Yeah. You missed it earlier. He kept calling me Augustus and then he would pull me off in to some corner or nook to whisper at me in Latin. I think he was trying to gain my support for whatever idea he's presenting to the Roman Senate." Setting the platters down, he went back for the small basket with the warm biscuits in it and the butter.

Joe merely chuckled and shook his head even as he began to scoop up food onto his plate. "I wish he was speaking in English...or even French. I'd love to know just what the old man talked the Roman's into doing."

Duncan smiled at the thought. It might have been a touch spiteful of him, but he just hoped that Methos drove the real Augustus up a wall as much as he was doing to him and Joe this morning. Suddenly, Methos voice rose and he finished his speech in a suitably dramatic fashion and then swept both arms out to the side and bowed low at the waist. Instantly, Joe began to clap and Methos smiled and bowed again. With a shrug, Duncan also began to clap at the old man's performance even as he walked over to the coffee table and carefully helped Methos down. "Lovely speech, Methos. Even though I didn't understand but one word in ten, I'm convinced. Come on and sit down now. I have breakfast waiting."

Methos was agreeable to the suggestion and allowed himself to be lead to the table. He greeted Joe in Latin and then sat down with a flourish and attacked the food. Joe just chuckled and gestured to the older immortal ravishing a slice of honeydew. "I guess public speaking is hungry work."

Duncan rolled his eyes and sat down. "So...what can you tell me about this. *Please* tell me that it's not permanent."

Joe shook his head. "As far as I can tell, no, it's not permanent. At least, if it is what I think it might be."

Duncan frown and paused in his buttering of a biscuit. "What is it that you think happened to him?"

Joe shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. Finally he sighed and looked Duncan in the eye. "There's an odd phenomenon of...strange behaviour patterns with some immortals right after they take a head. It never lasts long, only a day or two. Three at most. It usually only happens to the really old immortals, although sometimes it happens to younger ones. At least...relatively younger."

Duncan frowned. "What is it, some sort of immortal senility?"

Joe snorted and almost choked on a bit of egg. "No. God's no. It's the effect of the Quickening before it...settles and becomes a part of them. Some think that it has to do with age pure and simple...other's think it has to do with the number of heads an immortal has taken. Whatever the reason, the theory is that all that energy stirs up all of the immortal's memories...not just their own, but the memories contained in all of the Quickenings they've ever taken. So...it's not a matter of settling *one* Quickening...but all of them all over again. Hence the bizarre behaviour while the memories and personalties sort themselves out once again."

Duncan paled and a tense look crossed his face. "How...how many heads does it normally take for something like this to happen?"

Joe's voice was very calm and soothing. "Don't worry MacLeod, you're no where *near* that mark yet. For all that in the past few years you've become something of a popular target, you haven't taken very many heads in comparison to..." Joe trailed off and gestured to Methos. "No one even knows how many heads that the old man here has taken. He's older than the Watchers and we've only been able to have him watched periodically since then. He keeps managing to disappear on us."

Duncan couldn't help but snort in sarcastic amusement at that thought, but it didn't really make him feel better. "Well, I'm glad it's temporary, but it bothers me that this might happen every time he ends up taking a head. Although, it does explain why he didn't want to fight Kristin. He kept trying to talk me into doing it and from what I understand, it's the first head he's taken in centuries."

Joe nodded. "I could understand him wanting to step out of the Game for a while, but centuries is a long time to hide from it. I mean, it's one thing to try and live in the mortal word and lead a fairly normal life, but how many times did he uproot himself merely to avoid other immortals? That's a lot of work."

Duncan hummed his agreement and took another bite of food. He stared thoughtfully at the older immortal and watched as Methos happily shoved a bit of bacon into his mouth and washed it down with some coffee. "I wonder how many heads Methos has taken."

Methos looked up at the sound of his name and smiled a sweet and innocent smile. "One thousand, two hundred and forty...uh...forty-seven. Yes, Kristen makes it forty-seven."

Duncan just goggled at him. He didn't know which to comment on first, the fact that the old man had kept track or the fact that it was so many. Mostly, he figured his discomfort came from the fact that he tended to see Methos as the face he showed the world; a young studious grad student. Then the other immortal would come out with some gem of a comment and Duncan was forced once more to realize that the man he was speaking with was millennia old when he was just a young pup wandering about after his father in the Highlands of Scotland. It was...disconcerting to say the least.

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