Chapter 18

"MacLeod?"

Duncan turned at the sound of O'Neill's voice. From the expression on his face he could see there was something wrong. "Where's Methos?" he asked quietly, hurriedly getting up from his stool at the bar.

"Oh, just hangin' around back at the base. In fact, I'm taking you to see him now," Jack said as he took his arm.

MacLeod pulled free. "I'm not going anywhere with you until I know what's wrong. Where's Methos?"

O'Neill sighed in frustration. "He's back at the base, hanging around. I mean literally, MacLeod. Right now, he's floating in mid-air. And the last thing he asked for before whatever happened to him nearly blew the base sky high, was you. So either you come quietly, or so help me, I will shoot your ass and drive back with your corpse."

"Look, if this is a joke you two have cooked up..."

O'Neill pulled out his side arm. "Get in the fucking car."

MacLeod preceded him outside, the other patrons pointedly ignoring them. With Cheyenne Mountain just down the road, no one questioned the fact that the military had the right to make an arrest when required.

"Aren't you going to cuff me?" MacLeod asked nastily as he climbed into the jeep.

"You aren't under arrest," O'Neill muttered as he slammed the door shut and raced around to the other side. "I wasn't joking," he said after he got in and pulled out of the lot. With a start, MacLeod realized he'd never shut the engine off. "No," he finally said. "You're not." MacLeod turned in his seat as the car peeled onto the highway. "All right then, what's wrong?"

"Just what I said. Pierson was working on something for us and apparently it blew up in his face."

"I don't buy it. Methos is smarter than that."

"Whatever you say," O'Neill curtly responded. "Just tell me one thing. Would Pierson ever withhold information about something he considered dangerous to one of us? To non-Immortals, I mean."

"We call you mortals. And no, Methos would never do that. He might avoid the situation entirely after he gave it, but he'd definitely give you fair warning."

O'Neill looked relieved. "Okay. But would he keep quiet if he thought it might pose a danger to himself?"

"Yeah," MacLeod nodded thoughtfully. "He would. Especially, if he thought it could be used against him. But that's absurd, because there isn't anything on earth that could be a real danger to one of us, unless it's another Immortal with a sword."

"On Earth, you say?"

MacLeod opened his mouth to respond, suddenly looking around as he sensed another Immortal presence. "Methos? Stop the car, it's Methos!"

O'Neill barely glanced up from the road. "Pierson's back at the base, MacLeod."

"No! I just felt him. We have to go back. Stop the car!"

"What do you mean you just felt him?"

"His presence. I felt his presence! It's how we know when another Immortal is close. Now turn around and stop the car!"

"MacLeod," Jack insisted. "I swear to you, Pierson is at the base."

There was a long pause and finally MacLeod spoke. "You may be right," he responded slowly. "It's the strangest thing, but I can still feel him, and if he was back there," MacLeod looked down along the road they'd just traveled. "I shouldn't be able to." He shook his head which was still buzzing. "How far is the base from here?"

Jack looked to the side, noting the next marker. "About three miles out - and one mile down."

MacLeod's eyes went wide. "That's impossible!"

"Is not!" O'Neill shot back, his tone filled with sarcasm.

"Okay," MacLeod rubbed his forehead, trying to overcome the growing noise in his head. "Now, just tell me from start to finish exactly what happened..."


O'Neill quickly navigated them through base security, while MacLeod looked around, seeing dozens more armed soldiers than there had been this morning. He still wasn't sure he believed O'Neill's version of events, but then he was in no position to argue.

"Nice set up," MacLeod commented as the elevator traveled down.

"Rehabbed missile silo." Jack shook his head. "Don't ask."

They came out into a corridor lined with guards, none of whom could have done a thing to stop the man whose presence had put them on alert.

"You might just as well let them stand down," MacLeod told the colonel. "If it comes to it, I'm probably the only one who can prevent him from doing any harm."

"How's that?" O'Neill asked as he led the way, clearly ignoring the suggestion.

MacLeod pulled his coat aside to show him the grip of his sword. "There's only one reason I can think of why Methos would have sent for me. To take his head if something's gone wrong."

At that, O'Neill stopped cold and flung him against the wall, shoving his gun under MacLeod's chin. "You lay a finger on him without authorization and I'll blow your fucking head off!"

"It's not my choice!" MacLeod growled angrily. "It's his! He's asked this of me before, O'Neill. And I've refused. I don't want his head, or his Quickening! But if he isn't Methos anymore then he has to be stopped. He knew that when he sent for me."

Jack let out a deep breath and eased up just a little. "Why would he ever ask you to do something like that?"

"Perhaps because he considers me honorable. There have been times when he's been more afraid of the wrong man taking his head and gaining his power than he has ever been of dying." MacLeod gave him an ironic half smile. "I've managed to avoid it thus far. And I swear on my life, Colonel, that I will do nothing unless it's absolutely called for."

"How will we know if it is or not?" O'Neill finally backed off.

"I'm not sure," MacLeod admitted cautiously. "But an educated guess says he wants us to find out."

O'Neill stared at him coldly. "Fine. But we make the call."

MacLeod stared thoughtfully at the man and finally nodded. "Agreed."

A moment later and they were standing outside the door. "Major Carter, this is Duncan MacLeod." Samantha nodded a brief greeting. "Any change?"

"About ten minutes ago his eyes opened and closed. Nothing since then, sir."

O'Neill looked at MacLeod. "That'd be about the time..."

"He felt me coming," MacLeod nodded.

"Right. Come on."

As MacLeod entered the room the sense of presence grew even stronger. It certainly felt like Methos, but more than that there was a subtle undercurrent of something different. He looked across the room and his stomach tightened in shock. Perfectly, utterly calm, Methos hung breathless and still above the floor.

MacLeod moved forward slowly. "Clear the room," he told O'Neill. "If this goes badly I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

"We're soldiers, MacLeod. Just get on with it."

"No. You made him a promise. Get them out and turn off those monitors. Allow him some dignity, Colonel."

"Oh yeah, this is real dignified," O'Neill gestured toward the silent Immortal. "He looks like an ad for The Exorcist XX. Death takes a holiday - ten feet off the floor!"

"Colonel, please!"

With a sigh, Jack ordered the monitors off and everyone out, then crossed his arms and stood staring at MacLeod.

Duncan took a deep breath and suppressed a shudder. One wrong move and O'Neill would kill him, of that he was certain. What had Methos had done to engender such loyalty? Then again, did he really want to know?

Ignoring the psychic daggers stabbing him in the back, MacLeod moved forward. Ten feet, twenty. When he was an equal distance away from Methos he held out his arm and brushed it against the radiant nimbus of light. It sparked against his finger tips and he felt the pull of those Quickening energies inside him answering the call. This was amazing! He'd never even heard of anything like it before. And it was caused by some alien artifact? He stepped within the corona and the buzzing within his head suddenly died. "Methos?" MacLeod whispered as if afraid to wake what lay within the sleeping man. "Methos?" he repeated more firmly.

"Hello again, Mac."

He nearly jumped out of his skin as the luminescent eyes opened.

"Am I late for dinner?"

Without warning, the light surrounding the ancient Immortal suddenly winked out and Methos dropped heavily to ground. MacLeod rushed forward, halting just outside of grabbing distance.

"Methos?" MacLeod asked, laying a hand on the hilt of his sword. From behind, Duncan heard the deliberate sound of a trigger cocking. If they got out of this, he decided, very much annoyed, he was going to have to seriously reconsider his position on Methos' continued existence. "Do you remember why you sent for me?"

The writhing Immortal groaned, clutching his broken ankle. "Of course I remember, you nit wit! To take my head in case something had gone horribly wrong."

"And what do you think about that now?"

"That if you don't get your stupid, ignorant, blue painted arse over here and give me a hand, I'll be obliged to take your own stupid, ignorant, blue painted head off!"

He removed his hand from his coat and turned to Jack. "It's him," he sighed in disgust, walking away. The crisis was over. Let Methos' new friends deal with his whining. Whatever the hell that was, he thought as his empty belly grumbled loudly, he'd rather worry about it on a full stomach.

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