Disclaimers: Methos, Duncan MacLeod, and Joe Dawson are borrowed characters of Highlander: The Series, which is a registered trademark of Gaumont Television, Rysher Entertainment and Davis/Panzer Productions. Characters Denise Paul Dawson, Jacob Methos Sizzerelli and Peter Hammond are my own.

Note: Future occurrences in this story were of my creation. I did not copy after someone else, no matter if they are similar or not. If you love science and are reading this, you will realize most of the things in this story can’t even be thought of as Science Fiction.

This is the third story in a Trilogy. It is not the third part of one story. The first two parts are <a href="https://www.angelfire.com/hi2/HighlanderDanielle/ImmortalEdition.html"> Immortal Edition</a> and Immortal Edition, Part II: The New Game. The second part hasn't been written yet. Go to

PROLOGUE

Methos and Duncan MacLeod were having a good time at Joe’s, drinking and relaxing. Last call had already been served. It was filled with its normal customers, and the band was starting its last piece. The Immortals sat at the bar, in deep conversation with Joe Dawson.

Methos took a swig of his beer, belching afterwards. Duncan waved a hand in front of his face when the hot air came towards him. "Methos, you are really disgusting."

"Thank you," Methos said, pushing his empty glass towards Joe so he could fill it. He would have come up with a better comeback, but he was too drunk to think about it.

Joe shook his head, pouring more beer into the glass. "What brings you to town, old man?"

"Oh, I just thought I’d drop by."

"Uh-huh," MacLeod said, gulping down his Scotch.

Methos was about to say something when he and MacLeod felt an Immortal's presence. Mac stood while Methos remained seated, both Immortals’ hands hidden in their coats. Joe looked towards the door, knowing why his friends were acting this way.

Another man, dressed in a long black coat with brown hair and eyes, entered the bar. He was an inch or so taller than Mac, and the clothes under his coat did nothing to hide his muscles. He looked around the bar, and spotting the immortals he walked over to them.

His gaze fell on Methos, and anger filled his eyes. "Hello, Methos." He said.

The older Immortal looked up at him with unfamiliarity. "Do I know you?"

"You should, old man. Death shouldn’t forget his enemies so easily." He could barely contain the anger in his voice.

"Who are you?" MacLeod asked. The other man took his gaze off Methos and looked at Mac.

"I am Peter Hammond." He said. His eyes looked around at the crowded bar. The other customers were oblivious to what the three Immortals were saying. Hammond looked back at Methos. "I will come back for you, old man. I have waited for thousands of years to have my revenge, and I can wait a little longer." He turned and left.

Suddenly sober, Methos stood and walked directly towards the door, MacLeod right behind him. There was no sign of Hammond anywhere, but that wasn’t why Methos left the bar. He walked directly over to his car and got in.

"Where are you going, Methos?" MacLeod asked.

Methos looked at him. "I’ve learned over the centuries to stay out of the way of Immortals who want my head. I’m getting out of here before Hammond comes back." Before MacLeod could say anything, he starting the engine and drove away.

Curse that five-thousand-year-old! MacLeod thought as he walked back into the bar to tell Joe what happened. He wasn’t about to let him go either. The customers were all leaving, and soon he and Joe could go to Methos’ apartment to stop him before he could leave.

PART ONE-NEW SHOCKS

As Methos stepped out of his hover car onto the ground, he looked around at his surroundings. Here, isolated from technology and civilization, the island had gone untouched after so many years. He remembered the last time he’d been here, so many years and memories ago, in the late twentieth century. That was over a thousand years ago, but to Methos it felt like only yesterday. But there were memories, faces, in between, too many of them to remember all at one time, that proved this was not so.

This was once Duncan MacLeod’s island, so many years ago. Now, it belonged to Methos, but he preferred thinking it was still MacLeod’s. The house was still there. Methos had repaired it many times over the millenium, but had never come out here himself. The memories were too painful, memories of friends and lovers long gone, like Joe, Amanda, Richie, Duncan, and Alexia. And all the immortals and mortals they’d faced, like Kronos, Kalas, and Cassandra. And the last immortals he and Mac had faced together, at the Gathering, who were Methos’ own students, Francais Thibodeaux and Daniel Harrington. Just seeing the island made them come back.

After a thousand years, Methos had finally gotten up the nerve to return to island. His latest student and adopted son, Jacob Methos Sizzerelli, was no longer in Methos’ care. He wanted to bring him to the island, but Jake had signed onto an explorer vessel. By now, Jake could be millions of light years into space, with no way for Methos to contact him. So he came alone. He was glad he did, now. He needed to be alone.

He walked up the hill to the wooden house, surrounded by trees just as old as he was, perhaps older. His broadsword hung at his side. After not needing it for so long, Methos was unused to the weight. But now, Immortals were being born once again, and all played the Game. The Prize Methos had won was still in him. Evidently, there was more, a much bigger Prize to be won this time. One of the reasons Methos thought so was because some of the new Immortals were born with supernatural powers. Methos could read minds, but he knew others who could bend reality into illusion, or teleport wherever they wish. Jake had powers as well. Telepathic powers, but much different from Methos’. Jake could do anything just by thinking. After taking a few Quickenings, Methos knew these powers didn’t compare at all to the Prize.

Two of the Quickenings he’d taken had enabled him with some of these powers. One was speed. He could do anything he wanted faster than anyone, but preferred not to because it drained him of energy as much as Quickening did. However, the other power did not. This one was electric touch. Whenever he reached up with his right hand and touched the nerves in someone’s neck, the person would receive a shock of electricity that would run through their nervous systems and into his or her brain, making them pass out. But if he wanted to, Methos could kill them instead.

He stepped into the house. Wooden houses like this one were scarce and worth millions, but Methos knew he’d never sell. He wandered through the house, glancing at furniture and other antique, priceless items in every room. He eventually made his way back to the living room and walked over to the chimney. Resting on the mantle in a holder and glass case, was Duncan’s Katana. Methos opened the case and lifted the sword frown it. He slid the Scabbard off and ran his finger along the blade. A thin line of blood came from his finger, and Methos stuck it in his mouth, then took it out again as the cut healed. Wiping the blood off the blade with his shirt, Methos slid it back into its Scabbard and carefully placed it back into the case. He turned his attention to the wall the chimney was on. There, lying on the floor against the wall, was a large chest. He walked over to it and bent down, opening the chest. A few items Methos recognized as Scottish were inside. One was a knife, and he recognized it as sgian dhu, a small knife that was strapped to the calve and could be used for many things. Another, was a kilt, plaid with blue stripes. Methos studied them for a moment, then placed them back into the chest and closed it.

As he stood, he stared out the window, which was above the chest. Outside, more forest could be seen. He stared at it, slowly rising to his full height. So deep into thought was he that he didn't notice the shelf placed above the window. His head bumped against it, and the contents on the shelf moved out of place.

"Ow!" Methos said, rubbing his head where the bruise was already healing. He looked down at his feet. A book had fallen off the shelf when he'd bumped into it. He leaned over, careful not to bump his head against the wall or shelf once more, and picked it up. He closed the book and was about to place it back on the shelf when he stopped. Books. Also something rare and priceless in the thirtieth century. It had been awhile since he'd last seen paper. Methos opened the hardcover and looked at the front page. Writing, hand writing, greeted him. Methos knew what the book was now. It was Duncan MacLeod's journal.

He closed it and was about to put it back on the shelf when something sticking out of the journal caught his eye. He looked at the thin sheet of paper sticking out of the top. He could barely see writing on the bookmark, but the writing had faded almost completely after so long. But he was sure it said 'Methos.' Intrigued, he opened the book to the marked page, taking a closer look at the bookmark. When he could finally make out the words, he received a shock. Written on the bookmark were these words:

"What?!" Methos exclaimed to the air. August 26^th, 3050? That was today! How did Mac know he would be looking through his diary on this exact date? He could not come up with an answer. Bewildered, he followed the instructions, and began to read:

Time travel? Was Mac insane? Was I insane? Did I get seriously drunk or something?

He smiled, reminded of a time he did get seriously drunk. It was in the eleventh century. He really got rough with the other men at a saloon that night, so rough and so drunk he woke up the next morning dressed up like a woman with stays, skirts and all, lying in bed next to a smelly, yellow-toothed drunk who was still asleep and snoring loudly. It's pretty much why he claimed he'd left guilt behind in that century, because whatever he did that night must have been beyond guilt. Or any other emotion, for that matter.

Methos forced himself to return to the present. Time travel. Sure, it sounded outrageous, but what if he could? Perhaps, in a few years, some scientist will announce that time travel was now possible. Yeah, right Methos. Mortals have been trying for a thousand years. Like they’re going to announce it was possible now.

But Methos didn't have much time to think about it before the noise of a hover car coming into land caught his attention. As he walked toward the door the sensation hit him. The visitor was immortal.

He unsheathed his sword and walked outside. A woman dressed in a green overcoat with a yellow shirt and green pants with yellow stripes running down the sides came up the hill towards him, her own weapon in her hands. When she finally made it to the top, she stood and waited until Methos came down from the porch. Then she raised her sword and challenged.

"Methos!" she cried. "I am Christine Chancellor, and I challenge you!"

Methos stood where he was and said calmly, "This is holy ground. We cannot fight here."

"Then we will take it elsewhere." She ran back down the hill to her car and disappeared inside. The car suddenly transformed from a hover car to a wide, metal deck with rails on the side. Christine Chancellor stood in the center at a control pad, rapidly pressing buttons on the touch screen. The car that was now a metal deck lifted off the ground a few inches, hovering over to the water. There, it settled, dropping down onto the watery surface a few feet from the shore. A metal plank contracted from the hover deck to the land. Christine stood away from the control pad and raised her sword once more. "Now we will fight." She called uphill to the Methos.

He walked downhill, striding across the plank onto the metal deck, raising his sword as well. The battle began.

Methos had to admit, Christine was good. She fought for as long as she could, which was a long time. But, unfortunately, she didn't have the skill Methos had accumulated after six thousand and fifty years of life. After a long time, he found an opening, and Christine went down on her knees. Methos placed his sword at her neck.

"Tell me. What powers do you have?"

Christine, startled, glanced up at him. She hadn't expected that question. "Walking through matter and time travel."

This time, Methos' eyes grew wide. His jaw dropped, and he stared down at her. Did she say time travel? Realizing Christine was giving him a quizzical expression, he masked his shock and nodded. Without anymore interruptions, he swung, cutting through her neck in one smooth motion. He dropped his broadsword and waited for the Quickening to begin.

Methos sat on the couch in Mac's house, marveling at the powers he'd just received. He'd already tested the walking through matter part; that was how he got inside. Now, it was time to try the time traveling bit. The diary entry had said he'd appeared sometime in the first week of August, 1999. It didn’t say when.

Peter Hammond. Methos didn’t recognize the name. He was probably just another immortal who wanted the Quickening of the oldest immortal. Many do. Still, the name nagged at him.

Methos shook his head and stood, deciding now would be the best time to go back a thousand years. He stood and closed his eyes, a picture of late twentieth century Paris forming in his mind. Where to dematerialize to? An apartment came to mind. Methos couldn’t remember whose, but it seemed safe, so that’s where he decided to go. His next thought was an order, that he desired to be there that very moment. He opened his eyes, watching as something white and swirling surrounded him. A quickening, Methos realized. But unlike other quickenings, lightning bolts did not follow. Instead, the white mass continued to swirl as Mac’s island disappeared to be replaced by the apartment Methos had held a picture of in his thoughts. As he dematerialized completely, he realized it was his apartment, back in the twentieth century. The swirling white mass disappeared, and Methos fell to the floor, exhausted. No buzz penetrated his mind, so he knew the place was empty of all immortals but him. He forced himself up, walking with effort over to the window. It was the middle of the afternoon in Paris, and below him pedestrians went by in cars and wore twentieth century Parisian clothes. Methos smiled, happy that the trip was successful. But when was it? He looked at his nightstand. The digital clock said 4:56pm. He walked over to it and pressed a button at the top. The date appeared. 8/2. August second. August second of what year? Methos glanced around for the calendar he knew was there. He spotted it. It was open to the month of August. Beside it was the year 1999.

Methos let out a whoop, raising his arms, only to fall on the bed, energy spent to its limit. He gave into sleep, realizing just how much he’d missed bedspring mattresses.

The buzz woke him later that night. He sat up, grabbing for his sword even before his eyes were open. When he did open them, he saw Duncan MacLeod and Joe Dawson staring down at him from the foot of the bed.

"We’re not letting you go, Methos." MacLeod said. "Not this time. You’re staying right here."

Methos realized he’d been staring at Duncan in shock. Joe’s alive! MacLeod’s alive! were the thoughts that kept flashing through his mind. Another voice said sarcastically, Of course they is, dummy! They haven’t even died yet! It’s 1999, remember? Another part of him brought him out of his reverie. "What?"

"You can’t run away again, old man. You’re going to have to get by me if you do."

"What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere." Methos rubbed his eyes. Then he remembered what MacLeod was talking about. Methos had disappeared after something important happened. He couldn’t exactly remember what. By now his past self was already in the States and traveling across the continent. He looked back up at Mac.

"What do you mean? You disappeared today after Hammond showed up. I’m surprised you haven’t left already."

Before Methos could say anything, Joe asked, "Where’d you get those?" He indicated the clothes Methos was wearing.

Methos glanced down at his clothes. He’d been so tired he hadn’t even changed out of his thirtieth century clothes. He still wore the one-piece suit with a white top and a red bottom with white stripes running down the sides of the legs and his red overcoat. "I um, well, I, um…" Methos tried changing the subject. "Look, I’m not going anywhere. If I was, I would be gone by now, like you said. Look, I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Mac and Joe exchanged looks, not certain whether they should leave or not. But after a moment, they headed toward the door. "Come by the barge." Mac said.

"The barge?" Methos asked, realizing it when it was too late. A thousand years from now, the barge no longer existed. But right now it did.

Mac and Joe looked at him. "Yeah. The barge." MacLeod said. "You do know what I’m talking about, don’t you?"

"Of course I do," he said, feeling dumb.

Duncan and Joe looked at each other again. Joe shrugged. "Bye, Methos." Joe said, walking out the door.

"Bye, Methos." Mac said. Then he left as well.

When he could no longer feel Duncan, Methos sank back onto the bed. He knew he had some explaining to do tomorrow. But for now, he needed to sleep. He’d change in the morning and then try to act as ‘normal’ as possible.

Mac drove Joe home. On the way, Joe asked, "Don’t you think he was acting a little strange?"

Duncan shrugged. "It’s Methos. He’s always strange."

"Yeah, but don’t you think he was acting a little too strange? Even for him?"

"Perhaps. Did you see the way he looked at us? It was if he’d seen a ghost."

"Yeah. I wonder what’s going on?"

"He can tell us later, at the barge. As for right now, I’m exhausted." Mac pulled up in front of Joe’s apartment. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

"I’ll be there." Joe got out and watched as Mac drove away.

PART TWO-EXPLANATIONS

Methos woke up at eleven the next morning. He quickly changed from his red clothes to some of the clothes his former self had left in the apartment: jeans, a gray sweater and a black overcoat. He took a long walk on the busy streets of Paris, eating lunch at a café close to his apartment. He’d forgotten what days in Paris like this were like, and how much he’d missed them. He strolled around the city for hours until he remembered he’d agreed to meet MacLeod and Joe at the barge. The sun was setting, so he knew he should get going. He just hoped he could face his friends again.

As he walked towards it, the usual buzz filled his brain. But Mac wasn’t alone. He could hear swords clashing. He ran around the corner, pulling his sword out. There was Joe, standing only a few yards away from two men in combat. He recognized one as Mac, and the other he guessed was Peter Hammond. They continued fighting, doing nothing about the immortal presence that had just appeared. But Mac was no match for the other man. Hammond found on opening, and slid his sword through Mac’s chest. The end stuck out the other side. He pulled it back out, watching as Mac fell to ground, dropping his katana. Then he turned to Methos. "I was wondering when you would show up, Methos." He raised his sword and waited.

Methos stormed towards Hammond, sword raised. His thoughts were of fighting skills as he and Hammond fought. But Hammond was too strong, too quick. Even for Methos. He grew tired while Hammond still seemed fresh.

Hammond knew this. As Methos used up the remains of his strength, Hammond spoke. "You should have let me join the Horsemen, Methos."

"Wha-" Methos took a breath and tried again. "What?"

"Don’t you remember, old man? You lied to me. You said I could be one among you, a conqueror. You said there would be Five Horsemen of the Apocalypse. But you lied. And now you will pay." He pushed Methos to his knees and put his sword against his neck. "Now you will die."

He swung, but Methos did not give up yet. He brought his sword up and blocked. He remembered now. Back then, Hammond wasn’t his name. But it didn’t matter. "The horsemen are dead, Hammond. I’ve changed. You’re too late for your revenge to mean anything."

"It will always mean something while you’re alive." Hammond finally seemed to tire. Methos was winning. Not long afterwards, Hammond was on his knees.

Methos pressed his blade against the other’s neck. "I let you live all those years ago. Now I know that was a mistake." He moved the sword away, swinging it back with all his strength.

But Hammond was already disappearing. He faded away with a smile on his face, blue haze encircling him. "I will have your head yet, old man." Hammond said before he dematerialized completely.

The sword continued to swing, slicing through air where Hammond’s head once was. Methos let the blade fall to the ground, mentally cursing. The guy was a teleporter! Great. Just great. He could be anywhere on the continent by now. He heard the tap-tap of Joe’s cane and turned to see the watcher standing next to him. He was staring at the empty space Hammond used to be in. "What happened? Where’d he go?"

"He’s a teleporter." Methos said, then explained. "He can go anywhere he wants to with just a simple thought."

"He can what?" Joe looked at him. "How do you know?"

Methos absently rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, Joe, the thirty-first century is filled with immortals with…" then he realized what he’d just said. "Oops."

"Thirty-first century?" Joe’s eyes were huge. "What do you mean ‘thirtieth century?"

"Well, I, um." An immortal presence filled his mind. He looked behind him at Mac, who gasped and came back to life.

Joe went over to him to help him up, but Joe hardly even took his eyes off the older immortal. "What do you mean ‘thirtieth century’?"

Mac looked confusedly from Joe to Methos. "Did I miss something?"

Methos sighed. "I guess I have a lot of explaining to do."

Sometime later, MacLeod, Joe, and Methos were sitting on the couch and chair in Mac’s barge. Methos had just finished explaining that he was from the future, and how he found the diary entry meant for him and how he received his time traveling powers.

"Now it makes sense." Joe began. "Your strange clothes, the look you gave us as if you’d just seen a ghost."

"Yeah. I guess I did pretty much give myself away. But when I got here, you know, in 1999, I was so exhausted from both the trip and the Quickening I’d received before the trip I just collapsed on the bed."

"If you’re from the future," Joe asked. "Where’s the Methos we know? Your past self?"

Methos thought for a moment. "It’s the third of August, so I think I’m somewhere in Kentucky."

"So you did leave." Mac said. "When did you-I mean, the former Methos- leave?"

"Yesterday." Methos scratched his chin. "I think. It’s kind of hard to remember. It was a thousand years ago. At least for me it was."

"What about the Gathering? Has it come after so long?" Joe asked.

"I don’t think I should tell you."

"Why not?" Mac asked.

"I think it would be safer if I didn’t tell you anything that happens in the future."

"You told us about the diary entry and your fight with Christine Chancellor." Mac pointed out.

"It’s because it said in your diary that I did." Methos said. "In fact, the date on it was today. Go get your diary, MacLeod."

Mac stood. "I’ll get my diary. But I’m not about to show it to anyone. I’ll write the entry other on the bed." He walked across the room. "Just what did I write?"

Methos told him as Mac wrote it down. As the Highlander closed it and put it up, he and Methos felt another immortal. They walked over to the door and up the stairs to with Joe following close behind them. Mac made it up on the top deck first. Methos could hear him say, "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." As he made it to the top, he heard a familiar voice reply, "Jacob Sizzerelli of Earth."

Methos stood on deck next to Mac. On the cement dock stood his son, and next to him was man in his late forties. "Jake? Denise? What are you doing here?"

Jake and Denise looked over at him. Jake asked, "Dad? What-where are we?"

"You’re in the late twentieth century." Methos said.

Denise asked, "Twentieth century? How’d we get here?"

Joe hobbled up onto the deck and stood next to Mac. Joe and the other man standing next to Jake, Denise, stared at each other. Besides the limp and a few features, both men looked like twins. Methos started down the steps. He motioned for Mac and Joe to follow him. Joe and Denise continued staring at each other. When they were down, Joe and Denise stood in front of each other. Methos decided to make introductions. "Joe, this is Denise Paul Dawson, your descendant. Denise, this is Joe Dawson, your ancestor."

Both Dawsons broke through gaze to look at Methos. "Ancestor?" Denise asked at the same time that Joe asked, "Descendant?"

"Yes."

Both Dawsons stared at each other once more. Denise held out his hand. Joe took it. They shook hands and started talking. Methos turned his attention to Jake and MacLeod. "MacLeod, this is my son, Jacob Methos Sizzerelli. Jake, this is the fabled Duncan MacLeod."

"Son?" MacLeod asked. "Fabled?

Methos smiled. "You sure are, MacLeod. At least in my household you are."

"I thought immortals couldn’t have children." Joe said. He and Denise had been listening.

"They can’t. I’m adopted." Jake said. He indicated his dark skin and short black hair. "See? We look nothing alike. Everyone can tell."

Mac looked at Methos, eyebrows raised. "You’ve adopted, Methos? I never knew you had it in you."

"Well, know you do." Methos looked at Jake and Denise. "How did you get here?"

"I don’t know." Jake said. "How did you get here?"

"I got time traveling powers from a Quickening."

"That explains the body we found near the island." Denise said. He explained, "Jake just got back from his space exploring mission, and we decided to come to the island and surprise you. When we got there, we found the body, so we figured you were resting after the Quickening. When we got inside, though, the place was empty."

"We were walking around through the living room, and suddenly, we were here." Jake finished. "By the way, where is here?"

"Paris." MacLeod said.

"Paris?" Jake looked around. "It’s not what I expected twentieth century Paris to look like. I thought the cars would be older."

Denise rolled his eyes and gave Methos a look. Both of them knew exactly what Jake was talking about. He just loved films made from the nineteen thirties to nineteen nineties. "Well, next year it’ll be the twenty-first century. It’s nineteen ninety nine." Methos said. "I must have left the time vortex open. That maybe how you got here. But when I materialized, I was in my old apartment. I wonder why you didn’t appear there."

"Perhaps it has something to do with where you are, Methos." Denise said. "The vortex could keyed to wherever you are at."

"Perhaps."

Wind blew, leaving the three immortals and two watchers freezing. "Come on," Mac said, heading up the plank. "Let’s go in the barge."

PART THREE-PURSUERS

A few minutes later, everyone was seated on the couch and chairs in Mac’s barge. He started to get up, asking if anyone wanting beers, when Jake stopped him. "I’ll get them." He said, still sitting. "Please, sit down." Mac obeyed.

Methos smiled. He knew exactly what Jake was going to do, and so did Denise. But Joe and Mac didn’t have a clue.

Jake looked around the barge. "Uh, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Where’s the beer at?"

"It’s in the refrigerator. That big white thing over there." Methos pointed at the fridge.

"Thanks." Jake stared at it, not moving at all. As he concentrated, the fridge door began to open on its own accord. Five beers floated out of it. The fridge door closed behind them, and the beers made their way across the room to rest in the hands of the people waiting. Denise, Methos, and Jake opened the bottles and drank heartily, while Joe and Mac stared at the beers in their hands.

Joe asked, "How did you do that?"

"With my powers." Jake answered, taking another gulp. "I can do anything I want with my mind, even teleport."

"That reminds me." Methos said. "We're dealing with this immortal, Peter Hammond, and he teleported on us. Do you know where he is?"

Jake closed his eyes for a minute. "A teleport made less than an hour ago ended in the United States." He opened his eyes. "Um, what's the United States?"

"There isn't a United States in the future?" Mac asked.

"No, there isn't." Methos answered. "Most governments have disappeared. New York's earth's capital in the thirty-first century."

"New York?" Joe asked. "That's the last place I'd choose."

"That's what I tried to tell them. I was on the International Earth Congress, and I tried to tell them New York wasn't the best place, especially at the time. But do they listen? No. They have to-"

"What a minute-that's it! He teleported to New York!" Jake shouted, standing up. Everyone else did as well.

"I'll make the plane reservations." Mac said.

"We won’t need plane reservations." Methos said.

"What do you mean, we won’t need plane reservations?"

"Well, I’m going to run there, and Jake’s going to teleport. Since he can’t teleport anyone but himself, that means you’re coming with me."

"Just how are you planning to go across the Atlantic by running?"

Methos smiled. "Easy. I just go very, very fast." He explained, "It’s one of the powers I got from a Quickening. I can run faster than sound."

"You can what?" Joe asked.

"I can run faster than sound." He held out his hand to the Highlander. "You’re going to have to hold onto me. Don’t worry about how sore your feet will be. I’ve tried this before, and although people watching would only see a big blur, when you’re actually moving that fast it feels like you’re going on a normal stroll through the streets of Paris."

Duncan hesitated, but eventually gave in and held onto Methos’ hand. Jake, Denise, and Joe tried to cover laughs, but were having difficulty. "Oh, shut up." Mac told them, but the expression on his face made them laugh anyway.

Methos shook his head, a smile on his face. He turned to his son. "Jake, where exactly did he teleport to in New York?"

Jake didn’t answer him for a few minutes as he tried to sustain his laughter. "He's in a warehouse on the dock. The letters H. I. E. are written on one side right above the words ‘Helen’s Imports and Exports.’"

Methos nodded, letting Jake know he understood. He looked back at Mac. "Okay, let’s go." Mac nodded, and both turned toward the stairs. Onlookers would have only seen a blur of two figures in black as they moved faster than sound up the stairs and out of sight.

Joe, Denise and Jake watched him go. Because Jake made no move to leave, Joe asked, "Aren’t you going, too?"

"Yeah. But it takes less than a second to teleport anywhere. It’ll take dad and MacLeod eleven minutes to get to the New York. I’m giving them a head start." Ten minutes later, he left. "If you need me, you know where to find me," he said as he faded away, teleporting across the Atlantic to the Big Apple, leaving the two watchers behind in the barge.

"Just how many powers does Methos have?" Joe asked.

"Three, unless his latest Quickening gave him more powers than Time Travel." He turned to Joe. "So. You're a watcher?"

"Yes, I am. Are you?"

Denise nodded.

To prove they were both speaking the truth, both Dawsons raised their left sleeves, showing off their watcher tattoos. Joe smiled, followed by Denise. They laughed.

"Too bad we didn't bring a hover car with us." Denise said.

"A hover car? What's that?" Joe asked.

"A car that hovers."

"Oh. Of course."

Denise sat down on the bottom stair of the staircase. "If we did, we'd be there in thirty minutes. But instead, it'll take hours by plane."

"That's how long it takes to travel across the ocean a thousand years from now?"

Denise smiled. "Sure does."

"That would be great to have right now. Then we'd be able to get in New York before the fight ends."

"Yeah." Denise agreed, then sighed. "Looks like we'll just have to wait."

Joe smiled. "We're supposed to watch, not wait."

Denise smiled back. "I guess we can’t this time."

"So, who's watcher are you?" Joe asked, sitting down next to Denise.

"Methos'. You?"

"I'm Mac's watcher."

Both began to talk about their assignments and the Watcher Organizations both men knew, waiting for Mac, Jake and Methos to return.

Methos was right. They were going thousands of miles a minute, but it felt like there were moving only a few feet. To MacLeod, he was walking the same pace as Methos, but he knew that the older immortal was actually moving faster. Everything around him was a giant blue blur. He knew it was the ocean because he could feel water splashing against his legs and feet.

"I wonder why moving this fast feels like we aren’t moving so fast?" Duncan asked out loud.

Methos shrugged. "I’ve never found out. It’s just as unexplained as a Quickening or Immortality."

"I guess so." A big brown blur stretched out before them. "Is that land?"

"Sure is." Methos began to slow down, and now Mac could make out the outlines of ships off in the distance. "We’d better head away from the docks so we won’t be seen."

Methos turned slightly, and so did Mac. They were just outside the New York city limits. They hailed a cab that was dropping off a few people, and a few minutes later, they were standing in front of the warehouse owned by Helen’s Imports and Exports.

They could feel another immortal’s presence. They pulled out their swords and entered the building. They were about to separate to start searching when Jake appeared before him. "Hi, dad," he said.

"Jake, what are you doing here?" Methos asked sternly.

"I’m here to help."

Before Methos could tell him to leave, when a voice said from behind Jake, "Well, I see you aren’t alone, old man."

Jake whirled around, stepping back to stand next to Mac and his father, pulling his sword out in the process. Before them was Hammond, and standing next to him were to other immortals. "Neither are you, Hammond." Methos said.

He and Hammond looked at each other. "I knew you’d bring some friends, so I did as well. This way, it’s even."

Methos and Hammond moved to the other side of the warehouse, and Mac and Jake and the other two immortals moved to the left and right sides. The sound of swords clashing echoed through the warehouse.

This time, Hammond did not have the upper hand. Methos knew his tricks now, and was ready for him. As they fought, another Quickening erupted from the corner of the warehouse Jake was fighting. Instead of going to see who won, Methos and Hammond continued to fight. Soon, Methos had Hammond on his knees. Knowing he would teleport if Methos paused, he swung immediately. As Hammond’s Quickening entered Methos, the Quickening from the other fight began. Both ended at the same time. Methos collapsed onto the floor, not moving for what seemed like an eternity, standing only when someone grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up. Methos grabbed his sword as he stood, on guard in case the other person wasn’t a friend. He was relieved when he saw it was MacLeod.

"Thanks." Methos said, still out of breath. Only he and MacLeod were there. "Where’s Jake?"

Duncan’s eyes fell. That wasn’t a good sign. Methos ran over to where Jake and the other Immortal had fought. His hope died completely when he saw the beheaded body on the floor.

It was his son.

PART FOUR-IT’S ALL IN THE PAST

Methos stood in shock for a few minutes. His mind finally forced him to move. He knelt by his son’s body. Tears came to his eyes. He cried for hours, leaning on the body before him. Duncan stood nearby, wanting to comfort his friend but at the same time wanted to give him some space. When his tears no longer came, Methos lifted his head and picked up Jake’s sword. It was a Japanese Katana; similar to Duncan’s in every way except the handle. Methos had been given it by one of his many teachers, five thousand-no, four thousand years ago. It was five thousand in the thirty-first century. Now he was in the past.

Methos stood up. "What happened to the guy Jake was fighting?"

"He left before I recovered." Duncan said, frowning. He wish he hadn’t gotten away. He could be anywhere by now. His eyes grew wide when something dawned in his mind. "Joe! Denise!"

Methos didn’t pause another minute. He sheathed his own sword, and holding Jake’s Katana in one hand, he held Duncan’s hand in the other, and the surrounding world became a blur.

Eleven minutes later, Methos and Duncan were standing in the barge. The first thing they saw was blood. Both watchers lay on the inside deck, stabbed to death through the heart. Duncan knelt beside Joe, and Methos collapsed onto the couch. This shouldn’t have happened. He wouldn’t have cared about other mortals, but they were different. Joe wasn’t supposed to die. Methos banged his fist on the arm of the couch. Sometimes knowing the future really sucked. Or the past.

The past. He sat there for a long time, remembering his days with the Horsemen. If only he’d killed Hammond then! Then he wouldn’t have made those friends of his and pursued Methos. Then Jake or Denise or Joe wouldn’t be dead. If only he’d killed him when he had the chance!

Methos stood up, knowing what he must do. MacLeod looked up from Joe’s body. Seeing the determination in the old man’s eyes Methos wasn’t even trying to cover up, he stood as well. "What are you going to do?"

Methos looked at Duncan. "I’m going back and stopping Hammond before any of this ever happened."

MacLeod knew what he was talking about. "Time travel."

He nodded. "I’m going back a day. I’m going to get Hammond before he tries to get me."

"Are you sure about this?"

Methos nodded. "I already have his Quickening. We’re equally matched." He tried to think a thousand years back in his memory, when in reality it was only yesterday. He remembered Hammond coming to bar, and after he left, Methos’ former self had left. He hadn’t even stopped at the apartment. Methos smiled, remembering why. He didn’t because he knew the aggravating Scott he called friend would go there and try to stop him. Methos’ former self was right.

The six thousand-year-old Methos looked back at MacLeod. "Just when did Hammond leave the bar yesterday?"

Duncan thought for a moment. "I think it was around one fifty-five this morning."

"Thanks." Methos closed his eyes, a picture of the area outside Joe’s bar forming in his head. He thought of the time Duncan had given him, and concentrated. When he opened his eyes again, the white mass was already swirling around him. MacLeod was watching in fascination. "Bye, MacLeod," he said as the barge disappeared completely.

Methos materialized onto the roof of a two-story building. The night was a little chilly, and he was glad he was wearing a coat. He leaned over the side. Below him was a building with a large glowing sign saying "Le Blues Bar". He watched as Peter Hammond exited the bar, storming down an alley across the street. Seconds later, Methos’ former self and MacLeod followed. Methos headed over to his car. The older Methos knew what happened next, so instead of sticking around to watch he followed Hammond.

Hammond had entered the alley on the left side of the building Methos was atop of. He followed Hammond, watching from the roof. Methos went a little ways ahead of him, climbing down the ladders connected to the balcony of the second floor. As he went down the ladder, the other Immortal’s presence could be felt. When he was on the ground again, Methos pulled out his sword. Hammond approached cautiously, his own sword unsheathed.

"Hello, Hammond." Methos said, moving into a defensive position.

"Methos." Hammond said, smiling. "I didn’t think you would follow me."

"Well, now I have." Methos said. "Let’s get this over with, shall we?"

"I agree." Hammond swung first. Because of the Quickening Methos received already, they were evenly matched. The fight continued for a long time, both combatants running into trash cans and pipes. At one point, they used the ladder, going up onto the second-story balcony, and then the roof. Methos found he was being pushed over to the rail. Hammond’s blade came down upon Methos’, forcing the older man to fall against the concrete side. He kicked Hammond in the stomach, forcing him to back away and giving Methos time to regain his balance. Methos then delivered a series of blows, sending Hammond back against the shaft that contained the elevator. Methos knocked Hammond’s sword out of his hand. It crashed onto the floor only a few feet away. He held his sword against Hammond’s neck. Without any final words, he swung, slicing through the wood of the elevator shaft.

At that instant, the Quickening Methos had already received fled his body, replaced by the Quickening of the body on the ground at Methos’ feet. It was just as long as Hammond’s other Quickening. Blue lightning filled the air, striking Methos’ helpless body every few seconds. His screams filled the peaceful Seacouver night.

When it was over, he collapsed onto the floor, but didn’t stay there for long. He stood quickly, knowing he had to get out of there before someone discovered him. He picked up his sword, whipping the blood off before placing it in its Scabbard. It was all over. Methos closed his eyes and thought of home. His Thirty-first century home, that is. He thought about the island, and about the time he left on his time traveling journey. When he opened his eyes once more, the swirling white mass was there. He looked down at Hammond’s body as the twentieth century Paris faded.

PART FIVE-THINGS CHANGE

When all of the customers had left, Joe left the other members of the staff close down the bar. He followed MacLeod to his car. They were heading over to Methos’ apartment to try and stop him before he could get away. MacLeod was unlocking the doors when a scream filled the air. Both looked up to see a figure on the roof of the building across the street. The distant man continued to scream as lightning bolts struck his body.

Mac and Joe looked at each other, then Mac ran down the side alley and up the ladder, his sword at the ready. Joe waited by the car for Mac to return. When he did, Joe walked over to him. "Who was it?"

"I don’t know. He was gone by the time I got up there. But the body is Hammond’s."

Surprised, Joe asked, "What? Are you sure?"

MacLeod nodded. "Yes, I’m sure." He walked past Joe to his car. "We’ve got to stop Methos before he gets away."

Methos blinked when the late afternoon sky replaced the night he had left. When he could see clearly, he knew it was Mac’s Island. I’m back! He thought excitedly. He was standing in the living room of the cabin, just as he had when he first left this century. He began to dance to the old tune of "Celebrate Good Times" which was running through his head.

The sound of air against the ground filled his ears, stopping his victory dance. That could only mean one thing: a hover car was landing. The sense of an Immortal’s presence accompanied it. Methos groaned, hoping it wasn’t Christine Chancellor, the very woman whose Quickening gave him time traveling powers. He walked outside with his sword in hand. Realizing it was Jake and Denise, he relaxed.

"Hi, dad!" Jake called as he walked uphill.

"Hey, Jake!" Methos smiled at his son. Inside, he was shouting, They’re alive! They’re alive! "Since when were you on Earth?"

"Since this afternoon. Denise and I thought we’d surprise you." Jake was standing next to his father now, and Denise was close behind. He gave Methos a funny look. "Where did you get those clothes?"

Methos looked down. He was still wearing his black overcoat, gray sweater, and jeans. He smiled. "Oh, sometime in the late twentieth century." He looked back up at Jake, smiling. He grasped Jake’s shoulder, giving it a loving squeeze. After a long moment, he let go, turning back to the house. "Come on. I’ll show you around." He then led the watcher and younger Immortal inside, glad that life had returned to normal.

At least it was normal for now.

THE END

Main | Immortal Edition Series Index | Series Index | Highlander Fan Fiction Index | Contact the Author