dr_daniel_jackson (
dr_daniel_jackson) wrote2010-10-10 05:36 pm
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Getting Caught
Daniel had left Colorado feeling both content and torn. He missed Methos and he knew the older man would laugh at him for being so sentimental. He carried the glock everywhere he went, keeping it well hidden on himself. Even in the museum he kept it in a shoulder holster for fear that his teammates or someone worse might come looking for him.
He'd been in New York for almost two weeks when he started packing up to get ready to leave for Egypt. He'd already sent several boxes ahead and they'd be at his home there by the time he arrived. He packed up the last of Methos' journals in a duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder as he headed out of the museum and headed for the hotel where he'd been staying. He wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to his surroundings and therefore didn't realize he was being followed. He entered the Plaza hotel and made for the elevator which took him to the tenth floor. Stepping out of the elevator, he headed three doors down to his suite and swiped the card to unlock the door. Inside, he set the bag to one side, closed the door behind him and headed further into the room. He had just turned towards the mini-bar when pain exploded in his head and he was out cold.
When he woke, it was dark in the room except for a couple of low lights that weren't clsoe to him. He tried to move and realized he was bound to the bed. What the hell...
"Hello?"
"You know, it's taken me a while to figure out where the hell you disappeared to," came a familiar voice. "I don't like having to track you down, Daniel. You know I'm not a patient man."
"Screw you, Jack," Daniel growled out angrily. "I don't work for you or your government anymore. Now let me go and get the hell out of here before I forget we every had a friendship and I just kill you myself."
"Why Daniel... I think you're angry. Look, just... tell me what I want to know and all of this can stop. You have my word..."
Daniel shook his head. He didn't believe that for a moment. He should have just gone straight to the airport. For a brief moment, he wondered where Methos might be... or what he might do if he found Daniel like this...
He'd been in New York for almost two weeks when he started packing up to get ready to leave for Egypt. He'd already sent several boxes ahead and they'd be at his home there by the time he arrived. He packed up the last of Methos' journals in a duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder as he headed out of the museum and headed for the hotel where he'd been staying. He wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to his surroundings and therefore didn't realize he was being followed. He entered the Plaza hotel and made for the elevator which took him to the tenth floor. Stepping out of the elevator, he headed three doors down to his suite and swiped the card to unlock the door. Inside, he set the bag to one side, closed the door behind him and headed further into the room. He had just turned towards the mini-bar when pain exploded in his head and he was out cold.
When he woke, it was dark in the room except for a couple of low lights that weren't clsoe to him. He tried to move and realized he was bound to the bed. What the hell...
"Hello?"
"You know, it's taken me a while to figure out where the hell you disappeared to," came a familiar voice. "I don't like having to track you down, Daniel. You know I'm not a patient man."
"Screw you, Jack," Daniel growled out angrily. "I don't work for you or your government anymore. Now let me go and get the hell out of here before I forget we every had a friendship and I just kill you myself."
"Why Daniel... I think you're angry. Look, just... tell me what I want to know and all of this can stop. You have my word..."
Daniel shook his head. He didn't believe that for a moment. He should have just gone straight to the airport. For a brief moment, he wondered where Methos might be... or what he might do if he found Daniel like this...
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"I..." he frowned, "I followed you here. After I learned you were still here after a week."
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He was getting angry, "Stop it, Daniel. I can't, alright? That's why! I don't want you dead, but I don't want some government yahoos catching my scent too! I'm an asshole, but I've never claimed to be anything different!"
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"You never did explain to me why you carry a sword, Methos," he said quietly. "You're journals don't tell a lot about how you stay alive or how many immortals there are. Something tells me you carrying a sword is somehow tied to why you won't stay in one place very long."
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He approached the bed, arms crossed, "Immortals... we can sense each other. And some like to kill one another. To gain their Quickening. Our... life force, almost. Some might even say our very souls. When one kills another Immortal they gain that. They grow stronger. It's intoxicating, the power of it."
"I try and avoid it all together. I've worked very hard to convince the majority of other Immortals that I don't even exist. I'm the oldest, you see. The oldest living Immortal. There are many who would like the chance to kill me."
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"And you all use swords in order to kill one another... I'm guessing that means in order to kill another, you have to cut off their head..." He trailed off and dropped his gaze before quietly asking the next question.
"How many of these Quickenings have you taken?"
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"And in Colorado... I wasn't hiding from other Immortals. I was hiding from the Watchers. They track us. Keeps tabs on where we are and what we're doing. I'd been working for them, in charge with researching and finding myself and making sure it never happened."
"And you can't quit the Game. You can't refuse to fight. You'll just lose your head faster."
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"I'll rest for a couple of hours and then I'll be on my way and out of your hair," he said softly, "and you can go back to being invisible to these Watchers and hopefully other immortals as well."
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Only it was, a little. Had a tendency to happen with people he cared about... it made him careless.
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He turned and left the bedroom.
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"You... you put stiches in my head didn't you? I can't... I guess it'll have to be a bath so I don't get it wet."
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"Yes, you shouldn't get them wet." he nodded, "Did...you want me to help you?"
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"If you don't mind," he said softly. He wanted to tell Methos how much he'd missed the elder's touch but he was afraid it would drive the immortal away again.
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"Thank you... for coming when...when you did," he choked out between the tears. "He had a gun and he was .... he said I'd tell him... everything he wanted to know or else..."
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He hated seeing him this way. He wanted to make it better, but it was a hard to heal such things. Some wounds stayed with you, no matter what.
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"You had a lot of fun living in Russia in the 1800s..."
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