Chapter 25

With each passing day Gyganes and his crew grew more familiar with the strange customs of their passengers. They did not interfere, merely watched, bemused, as Yanos fished from a chair nailed to the stern, or Danaeus made scratches in the thing he called a book. Samantas also drew strange pictures, but on a slate, making her own scratch marks which she often discussed with Danaeus. And while they were thus occupied, Uncle Teulokos fashioned new toys to amuse his favorite nephew, Methos, who spent an inordinate amount of time avoiding his family and eagerly helping the crew.

As was the way of sailing in these days, the ship kept within sight of land whenever possible, stopping at islands large and small along the way to take on water, fresh food and fruit. At night, and again when possible, they would pause in their journey, pulling into one of the thousands of tiny bays and inlets that dotted the coast. It gave Methos a chance to exercise the horses and hunt to supplement their food, though many of the places they stayed were no more than rocky atolls with a surplus of birds.

Weeks then months passed in this way as their slow journey south continued. Sometimes the winds were good. Sometimes there were days when they barely moved at all. Storms came and went slowing their progress even further as they made for land and anchored themselves tight each time. And it was mid-September when they finally came within weeks of their goal...


I really do hate the sea, Methos thought sickly, lurching forward as the ship rolled drunkenly in another swell. He made it to the rail, bracing himself as he breathed in the cool clean air. It wasn't so much the weather that was bothering him, he knew, but the stench slowly creeping up into the cabin from the hold. They'd tried their best to keep it sanitary, but try as they might with the ship so unsettled the muck strewn floor was impossible to clean - not without first getting the animals off - and that wasn't likely to happen for a while.

"Good morning, son!" O'Neill called ebulliently as he strolled around the deck, ignoring the fine mist of rain. The colonel seemed to positively thrive in bad weather.

Methos closed his eyes, sighing in despair. He really didn't want to deal with this right now. "Morning," he muttered sullenly.

"You look awful!" O'Neill commented as he came up beside the Immortal.

"I'm fine," Methos lied. "Just had a bad night." The last thing he needed was to be fussed at by the others. They were still having way too much fun with the baby brother routine, though he did rather like all the amusing little toys Teal'c made to while away the hours of boredom aboard ship. He just enjoyed baiting the others with frowns and snide remarks ever so much more.

"Poor kid," O'Neill told him sympathetically. "Why don't you go check on your pets then take a little nap? Looks like we're going to be here a while."

The mere mention of the animals made Methos grip the rail until his knuckles turned white, biting his lip to keep the nausea under control. "Sure," he nodded, turning away and completely missing O'Neill's look of concern when he didn't come back with a smart ass remark.

He headed for the trap door that led to the hold. He could do this, Methos told himself firmly. This was the Mediterranean, not the Atlantic. He wasn't in a row boat covered in filth and excrement with a handful of chanting Irish monks on his way to Iceland. Horse dung smelled different.

Oh, shit! he thought desperately as he opened the door and the hot, fetid air from below hit him. Not different enough, apparently. Methos was at the rail heaving painfully before he even realized he was moving. Behind him, O'Neill was suddenly holding his shoulders and rubbing his back in slow comforting circles which eased the knotted muscles even as he tensed for another bout. A few minutes later he went limp, not caring when O'Neill slowly led him back to the cabin and gently helped him to a bed roll.

"We got any Dramamine?" the colonel asked quietly and Samantha nodded, going to fetch the med kit.

"I'm not sea sick," Methos whispered, wiping his face with a damp rag someone handed him.

"Could have fooled me," O'Neill muttered.

"Well, not very," he admitted tiredly as the boat rose and fell, turning his stomach. "It's a combination. The sea and the smell from below. Reminds me of a bad trip I once took."

Daniel brought water as Samantha handed O'Neill the little foil packet of pills.

"Whatever it is," the colonel told him. "You're down for the count. Take these."

"I'll be fine," Methos said, the very idea of ingesting anything making him wince. "Just don't start singing hymns in Latin," he joked weakly.

"Latin?" Daniel asked, confused.

"Went with the bad trip," Methos sighed, then briefly explained the problem.

"I could have lived without that fascinating bit of trivia," O'Neill grimaced. "Now I need Dramamine."

Methos chuckled, stopping abruptly as he tried to suppress another bout of dry heaving when the ship rolled and pitched.

"Take the pills," Samantha told him kindly. "They really do help."

He suddenly caught a strong whiff of animal scent and groaned. Nothing could be worse than this, he thought, retching softly as he took the damn things then choked them down with water. A while later, as Methos felt the worst of the illness passing, he finally drifted off to sleep.

Nearby, the others watched with concern as the wind rose and the ship rocked strongly. O'Neill shook his head and gently tossed a blanket over him.

"A sea sick Immortal. Who'd a thunk?" he muttered.

"Sounds like more of a psychological problem," Carter sighed

"Yeah, well. Who cares," O'Neill shrugged. "Just keep him sedated until the weather clears. We need him alert and well rested."

"Yes, sir," she agreed. It would put a dent in the med kit, especially if he needed more for the rest of the journey to Egypt. But if there was one thing aviators knew, it was how to treat nausea. If necessary, she'd corner Methos and make him give her a recipe for whatever ancient sea sickness potions he knew. And given what lay ahead, they were going to need it sooner or later anyway.

Go to next part.


people have been to this page since March 16, 2003.