"MacLeod." The man behind the desk tut-tutted and shook his head in disappointment. "Really, this behaviour is quite despicable."
Duncan creaked an eye open, the unflattering lighting in the room seeming all too sharp under view of his current head injury. "Sorry," he mumbled. Whether he was sorry about his actions or sorry that he'd been caught was left quite ambiguous.
"Attacking another immortal to steal flashbacks is a very serious offence," continued the man. "Very embarrassing for the immortal community, that. Can't have people running around attacking immortals with *no* intent to decapitate."
"Sorry," mumbled Duncan again. "I won't do it again. Just lost control."
"Yes," agreed the man disapprovingly. "And because of that I think we will have to parole you."
"What?!" yelled Duncan in shock, jumping from his chair. "I'm not that bad! I can control myself!" he claimed, still denying the obvious.
The man stared contemplatively at the immortal, absentmindedly tapping his pen against the wood of the desk. "We'll start mild and up the parole if you break regulation again," he finally said. "I think what might be easiest would be to give you a guardian. Methos would be the obvious choice. A fine immortal," he added approvingly. "Copes quite well with only a fraction of the flashbacks we've allowed *you* in the past," he added pointedly.
Duncan stared at the ground and mumbled to himself sulkily. He continued to do so right through the time it took the man behind the desk to ring the dojo and convince Methos to be Duncan's Guardian. It took much gratuitous flattery though the deal was finally sealed when the man promised Methos' flashback allowance would be doubled for the coming millennia if he agreed to help the FRC.
Methos arrived to collect Duncan in record time.
******
Back at the Dojo, night was falling and Methos was close to loosing his temper. He'd spent the hours since they returned home dodging attempted flashback abductions, ignoring Duncan's blubbering lower lip, and tearing ornaments away from desperate hands. The withdrawal procedure was not going well.
"I'm going to sleep," announced Methos finally, falling heavily down into the comfort of his favourite couch. "I *will* take your head if you try and ambush me again."
Duncan nodded moodily, fidgeting madly with a discarded beer cap. "You can trust me," he said, avoiding eye contact.
Methos stared at him. "Can't say I survived this long trusting immortals," he replied. "I trip-wired this room during the last time you were staring at that damn Scottish brooch in your room. Go to bed."
Duncan began a look of shock and betrayal at his friend's obvious distrust of him, but opted instead to sigh dramatically and slouch off to bed.
An hour past, and another, and slowly Methos relaxed into the cushions behind him and let his dreams guide the night.
Unfortunately, when he woke, Duncan was gone.
*******
Ten minutes after the revelation, breaking all past records, Methos arrived at the entrance to the FRC, knowing full well where Duncan had gone. The Flashback Archives.
"I think there's been a break in!" he yelled at the receptionist, who immediately pushed a large red button located in the centre of her switchboard. Alarm bells began screaming. The man who had interviewed Duncan the day before came rushing from his office.
"Duncan?" he shot at Methos, hardly needing to say more.
Methos nodded. "The archives," he said, and ran after the man full speed down the corridors. They past three checkpoints, all with armed guards lying unconscious at their posts. Not a good sign. Bursting through the final doors separating them from the Archive Room, they were greeted with a horrendous sight.
"MacLeod?!" exclaimed both Methos and the man in shock.
Duncan lay clutching his head on the floor of the Archive Room, amidst a mess of discarded ornaments and other assorted Flashback Triggers. Not all looked familiar.
"What have you *done*?!" yelled the man, rushing forward to survey the damage. "These aren't even *your* flashbacks!"
Methos walked slowly forward from the door in horror, feeling a strange pang of sympathy for the unfortunate immortal suffering from a bad case of Flashback Overdose.
"They're incompatible with you," said the man to Duncan, unsure if he was even being heard. "No wonder you've got a splitting headache!"
Duncan began frothing at the mouth, muttering and waving his hands wildly in the air. "Nooo...Scully...! He killed my father, Scully!"
Methos turned to the man. "Who's Scully?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.
The man sighed, accepting the worse had been done. "No one he knows," he said. "As I said, he broke into the wrong supplies."
"XENA!! SAVE ME XENA!!"
The two men stared down at the cowering man at their feet, feeling very awkward all of a sudden.
"You know," said Methos quietly, backing towards the door. "Those extra flashbacks you offered me? Keep them."
He turned and ran frantically through the doors, leaving the man standing alone to deal with the mess. A few moments later, an escort of guards came crashing through the doorway, awaiting orders.
"Send him to detox," the man said, shaking his head pityingly. "I think he's been punished enough," he concluded, motioning to the mess on the floor. "And send the archivists down to evaluate the loss. Hopefully he hasn't caused too much damage for the real owners of the destroyed flashbacks."
He gave one last look down at the immortal huddled on the ground before leaving.
*******
FBI Headquarters, Agent Mulder's Office.
"I hate him,. Scully!" cried the man, falling heavily into his chair. "I must have revenge!!"
His partner Scully placed a consoling hand on Mulder's shoulder. "Your father's death still haunts you?"
Mulder looked up, soulful eyes filled with pain as he knew the memories which were to come.
"He..." He paused. "He..."
"Are you ok, Mulder?"
Mulder sat up in his chair, concern clouding his features. "He, uh..."
"Mulder?"
Mulder stayed silent for a few moments before sitting forward tensely in his chair. "Could you leave me a moment," he asked with forced calm. "I seem to be having a problem."
"Mulder? Do you want to talk about it?" Scully asked as she paused in the doorway.
"No," replied the man, his voice distant and tinged with worry. "It's just that...this has never happened to me before..."
Deep in his mind, the FRC reprogrammers worked fast. Flashback Impotence was never a nice thing to experience. They knew it only too well.
THE END.