Methos strode through the hotel lobby not really paying attention to where he was going. He'd told the ladies he'd not be going to the convention in Seattle, let the Wingfield kid have his day of glory without needing to share the spotlight with the man he portrayed so ably on screen. Methos smiled to himself. The boy really was quite good and looked amazingly like his alter-ego.
Ego, huh, how appropriate. He had hoped the harem wouldn't be too disappointed when he told them not to expect him, but he'd been shocked at how well they'd taken it. Called it a 'girls' night out' and laughed for gods' sake. Well, he'd have to see about that.
He'd decided not to dress as himself for this costume ball. Rather suspected young Wingfield would attend as either Methos the Immortal in black trenchcoat, etc. or Methos the Horseman, so he'd opted for something from a different period entirely. Good thing Seattle was fairly warm, for the toga didn't cover a great deal and the sandals were definately NOT for cold weather.
Oooomp! Thud! Crack! "What in the bloody hell. . .?" The long-legged, dark-haired Immortal sat up slowly, rubbing his head and testing for broken bones. Ah well, he'd heal. "What in blazes did I just trip over? There was nothing there a moment ago, I'd swear." He glanced around dazedly for a moment before he spotted the obstacle - a shortish, mousy-haired person of what he suspected but couldn't be absolutely sure was the female gender. Either that or a very short male no more than 5'1" or 2" perhaps on a good day. This did not appear to be a good day. The person - he was determined not to refer to it as her until he was sure - was dressed in blue jeans, black knee-high boots and a T-shirt that read "METHOS - Because the Alternative is Unthinkable". He groaned.
"You tripped over ME, you oaf," it said, brushing itself off. He still couldn't tell, the voice was too much of an in-between, much like the creature itself. How gender non-specific could a person be, anyway, he thought angrily. His harem ladies were all female, thank the gods and he liked it that way. "Why the hell don't you tall types ever think to look DOWN when you're walkin' instead of keeping your heads in the clouds? You know, just to see if there MIGHT be something at ground level that might happen to get in your way?" The creature was muttering and raving at a furious pace and Methos was becoming more and more nervous by the minute. He glanced around frantically for one of the ladies. Damn, he was still too dizzy to stand and his head hurt.
At last the woman, ah it was a woman after all, noticed he was still sitting on the floor. She glared at him. "Aren't you going to get up?" "You're standing on my foot," he muttered. He thought she might have broken some of the smaller bones therein, but couldn't be sure.
"Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. Here," she held out a hand. "Let me help you up. You seem a bit discombobulated." She chuckled and he tried to grin back, but it still hurt to move. Methos stared silently for a moment, not sure how to take this sudden offer of assistance. It could be a trick. He knew first-hand how grabby some fans could be and this one seemed to be a first-class nut case.
"Come on," she hissed. "We don't have all night, here. You'll be blocking traffic."
"Well," he thought, relieved. "That answers that question. She doesn't even know who I am and I'm certainly NOT going to enlighten her." It unfortunately hadn't occurred to him that she had not once looked at his face nor given him a chance to say much more than those few words he'd uttered when they collided. If it had, he might have been more careful. Ah, well.
Methos sat there for a moment weighing his options. He could either accept the offer of help, take the chance as it were that this person really did want to lend assistance, or he could sit there all night waiting for one or more of the Harem ladies to show up. Somehow, sitting in the lobby of the Everett, WA Howard Johnson's Plaza did not seem a viable alternatiave at the moment. "Promise not to hurt me," he said grinning. "You seemed a bit angry."
The woman looked up to see if he was joking and found herself staring into a pair of the most beautiful hazel eyes she'd ever seen. She gulped noisily. "Damn, jailbait for sure", she muttered, blushing furiously at the thoughts that were running through her head regarding this very attractive young man. "Christ, he's probably young enough to be my son." "Hush, 'Tila; you know what they say 'incest is best'" the little voice in her ear murmured throatily. "The young ones have a lot of stamina." "Yeah, but I DON'T," she whispered back.
She glanced back down toward the foot she'd been so recently standing on. Nice feet, too. He was rubbing the arch as though it still hurt. Now there was an idea. "Want me to do that for you?" She tried to take his foot, but he scooted backwards hurriedly. "No, thanks, I can manage." He'd heard some of the 'conversation' and it was making him seriously doubt the sanity of the person in front of him. Gods, where were the ladies? Still in that thrice-damned costume ball, playing gaga with Wingfield while their beloved Master sat out here in the clutches of an escapee from Bedlam?
The woman looked up at him again and froze. "Oh, my GOD!" The words were almost a gasp. "YOU'RE, You're, You're" "Yes, I am something alright, and right now that something is decidedly outa here, if I can get to my feet."
"Oh forgive me, I really didn't mean to hurt you Mr., ah Mr." "Pierson," he said a tad grumpily. "Probably thought I was the Wingfield brat," he huffed to himself. "And it's Dr., not Mr., I received my degree in Ancient Studies nearly three years ago." She blushed some more, turning a truly frightening shade of red. This was not the delicate, shell-like pink of the Harem ladies when they were embarrassed. Oh no, indeed. This reminded him more forcibly of a third-degree sunburn or a lobster boiling in the pot. He wondered vaguely if it were as painful as it looked and decided probably not. For some strange reason, she kept looking at his feet. "What," he asked finally. "Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what," she asked innocently as her eyes crept back up to those eyes, lingering appeciatively over everything in between. The way her eyes kept trailing over him, he thought the toga might have been a very bad idea. She seemed to be having a bit of trouble breathing and was getting rather dizzy. He could tell by the way she was swaying and only hoped she didn't fall in his direction.
"I'm getting too old for this," she muttered darkly to herself.
Methos' initial nervousness returned with a vengeance. "What did you just say," he queried politely whilst scooting backward just a bit more. He was trying desperately to get as far away as possible without really seeming to be avoiding the wacko who still, for gods' sake, had her hand out as though she really expected him to take it. "I said, 'I'm getting to be too damned old to be running around like this. I'm not a kid anymore and I get careless and then nice boys like you get hurt. Will you PLEASE let me help you up. People are starting to stare."
He glanced around. Sure enough, newcomers to the lobby were starting to look their way. The ball seemed to still be in full swing so he could hardly expect any help from his ladies any time soon. He held out his hand and she grasped it firmly, pulling him easily to his feet. "Damn," he thought, "She's stronger than she looks." The woman stood gripping his long, slender fingers tightly and staring into his eyes.
"Uh, could I have my hand back, please? I think you're breaking it." Gods, this hurt.
"Oh, my gosh, of course Master, uh Mister, DUH Dr. Pierson" she stammered making absolutely no move to let go.
He winced as her fist crushed small bones. "You do realize," he said through gritted teeth and the haze of pain beginning to surround him, that I may very well never play the sax again nor wield a sword nor do any of a myriad things I was wont to do in my past lives before you so rudely destroyed it." He hissed as another bolt of pain shot through him. "Tell me, madam," he groaned. "Do you intend to support me now that you've made me a cripple?" He tried to keep his tone light, but his teeth were beginning to ache and he could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat.
"Attilla," shrieked a chorus of female voices. "What are you doing to our Master?" "Nothing," she cried letting go his hand just as he crumpled to the floor in a heap. "Ah, Harem to the rescue," were his last conscious thoughts before darkness claimed him.
Methos raised his head wearily. "Where am I?" "It's alright, Master, you're safe here with us." He looked around fearfully. "That woman, the one who attacked me, where is she?" Athena smiled gently at him. "Don't worry, Master. She's not going to hurt you." Methos groaned. Not going to hurt him, indeed. The witch already had. If he had been carrying his sword, he would have whacked her with it, just like he should have done Cassandra all those years ago. Glancing worriedly about the room, quite a pleasant room really, blue tissue paper and picture of him for gods' sakes all over, he spotted her. She was standing in a corner with two of the ladies guarding her like she was a prisoner or something. Made him feel pretty good that they'd look after him like that. She didn't look quite so threatening now, standing there wringing her hands and sobbing. "I didn't mean to hurt him, honest. He's just so darned CUTE!" she wailed.
"CUTE!" Methos roared, then held his head and spoke more quietly. "Come here, you wretch and sit down." The woman stumbled over to the bed whereon he lay helpless. "Not too close, mind, I still don't entirely trust you." She nodded and scooted the chair back a pace or two. "Much better," he said. "Now, what is your name, so I can sue you properly for the damage you've done?"
"Marti, sir," she whispered nervously. "But honestly, you can't sue me." "And why is that, Martin" Methos asked thinking maybe he'd gotten the gender wrong after all. The woman giggled. "That's Marti, with an I and you can't sue 'cause it wouldn't do a bit of good. I don't have anything to sue for." He stared at her for a moment. She was grinning widely as though she knew something he didn't and he did NOT like it. He looked around at the Harem ladies who still gathered around. His loves, all of them. They were what made life worth living, not the Game, not the fame nor the money nor anything else, but his lovely ladies. He sighed contentedly and leaned back against the pillows. What to do with this one?
"Excuse me, sir, ah Methos", the creature was stammering again. "Yes, Marti," he said gently. She really did seem nervous and was biting a nail. Reminded him a bit of himself always doing that. "Can I join?" She pointed to the ladies in their glittering and filmy costumes. He sighed. "I really don't know as you'd fit in, Marti. You're not quite like the other ladies are you?" "I can learn," she said. "I learn real quick at work and don't make the same mistake much more than once or twice." "No," he thought, "I'll bet you don't. You just keep making new ones." Aloud, he said "Well, let me and the ladies discuss it and we'll see."
"Oh, thank you, sir. Ah, in real life, sir, are you a Highlander fan?" Methos glared at her darkly. "Not at the moment," he said, "but we'll see come May. If Duncan has come to his senses maybe I'll revise my opinion." She nodded. "I thought so. Kind of wanted to kick his ass myself. You really should, you know." Methos nodded. Perceptive little snot, with a violent streak that did his heart good. Maybe she would make a decent addition to the harem, if he kept her hidden away where she would not, could not corrupt the others and she might make a good punishment for the judgemental young Highlander. Take him down a peg or two as it were.
"Leave us for a moment, please," he ordered. "Ladies, we have something to discuss." The harem gathered 'round while the elf, that was the only way he could think of her at the moment, headed for the door. "I'll go with her, Master," said Susanna. "But I think she'd be o.k. with us. She's not always like this." "YOU KNOW her," he gasped. "You never told me you were acquainted with an escapee from the loony hatch." "She's not an escapee, they've never even caught her yet."
Methos and the ladies discussed the pros and cons of accepting another member into the harem. It would mean the ladies would have to share him more, but they were VERY good about sharing. He wasn't sure he was up to it, though. He vaguely remembered her saying something about stamina and the way she'd crushed his hand was an experience he did not want to repeat. It would also mean someone else to share the chores and if she misbehaved too badly they could shove her outside with Cassandra and the goats. Poor goats.
"Alright," he declared when they brought the victim back in. "You can join, but you live in the basement - fix it up any way you like, but I keep the key and you come out only when I feel it is safe to let you out. Prove yourself and you will obtain more privileges including free run of the chateau eventually and maybe an occasional tryst with myself" "You should be so lucky," he thought grimly. "Fail and we banish you to the nether regions of hell wherein dwelleth the evil Cassieho, the bane of mine existence. Now, to think up a name"
"It's Attilla, Master," one of his harem sweets supplied. "Um," muttered their Master. "How appropriate."
The woman hurled herself at him in gratitude and he yelped in surprise and shock. "What is with you, woman? Didn't you hear what I just said - you're living in the basement right next to the dungeons. Get out of line and we'll use you for testing the latest and greatest in torture equipment." "Oooooo thank you," she breathed huskily. "I do so LOVE PAIN! Now, hurt me baby!" She grabbed him by the hair and planted a big kiss right on his lips, bruising them and shutting off his source of oxygen since she was also crushing his nose. "Leab go, you're hurting be", he squeaked soundly mightily like the Elephant's Child when grabbed by the crocodile. Now, where had that thought come from? Ah, well, Methos old lad. You know what they say. Relax and enjoy it.
The End
Harem Dancer's site: HOME/Fan Fict/Alpha Gam/Ballet
last revised--4/14/97
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