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kathierif_ficFic: Immortal Plans (Star Wars/Highlander crossover)
Title: Immortal Plans
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Highlander/Star Wars
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Highlander. Too bad, eh?
Summary: Methos is forced to do something he didn't want to do
Authors Notes: I have to thank three people for this. First, Bev, for the inspiration for this. Thanks, general! Second, to Dee and Ginny, for their encouragement, the word help, everything. :) Not to mention summary and title.
***
"Why didn't I kill you yet?" Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker, sighed and allowed his shoulders to slump down for a moment.
The man lounging in the throne-like chair in Lord Vader's private rooms smirked up at him and ran a hand through his dark, spiky hair. "Because I'm better with a sword - or sabre - than you are."
"No," Vader said grimly and pushed the man's feet off the table with a short thought. "It's just your ability to plan that's useful to me."
The smirk didn't disappear as the man calmly put his feet back on the table. "I feel unloved."
"You are unloved," Vader calmly said and raised his hand. The black glove shone in the harsh light as he balled his hand to a fist.
With a dry snap, the other man's neck broke, and he fell to the ground in a heap, like a doll with cut strings.
Darth Vader shook his head slightly and used the Force to levitate the broken body high in the air and towards the small cot in the corner. He himself didn't need it. He didn't sleep here. But, no matter what he said, he needed this man, he was important for his operations.
**
Methos woke up with a pounding headache, which wasn't so unusual these days.
Slowly he raised a hand to his neck, making sure that the bones had aligned correctly and healed the way they were supposed to. With a soft sigh, he realized that he didn't need to worry. Vader - Anakin, he corrected himself quietly - had taken care of things. He would be okay and completely pain-free within half an hour.
Slowly he sat up, only to face Anakin, who had calmly waited for him to wake up.
"Happy now?" he asked quietly, tiredly.
Anakins breath was loud in the otherwise quiet room, and not for the first time Methos asked himself what had become of his brother.
Brother.
The term left the taste of ash in his mouth. He had been forced to watch his brothers - Kronos, Silas, Caspian - die, and the one he liked most, Silas, had even died at his own hands.
And now Anakin, who was more than these three could ever have been.
Not for the first time, he wondered if he might, one day soon, be forced to kill his last brother, too.
"Methos."
Anakins voice was sharp, as if he'd read his thoughts, but Methos knew that he couldn't have. He wasn't force-sensitive, but he had the ability to shield his thoughts from them all, be they now Jedi or Sith. His thoughts were his alone. They could kill his body, again and again, but they couldn't steal his mind.
"Anakin," he replied softly.
"I'm sending you to Coruscant," Anakin said, quietly. "Soon I will travel to Yavin, to supervise the completion of the Death Star. I don't need you there."
Methos nodded quietly, but he didn't say anything. Bitterness filled him as he realized that his brother considered him a burden, nothing more.
Maybe the Rebels had been right. Maybe Duncan had been right, again, and Anakin Skywalker was dead, replaced by a machine - Darth Vader.
Maybe it was time for him to move on.
He cursed McLeod under his breath, for doing this to him again - he was Methos, he was Death on a pale horse, he didn't need a conscience. He was the oldest Immortal in the whole galaxy.
He didn't need McLeod to nag at him and make him do stupid and dangerous heroic things.
And yet...
He watched as Anakin - Vader - stared at him for a moment longer, but he didn't move until the Dark Lord had turned around and left.
Only then did he get up, pulled his dark cloak tight aroung his shoulders, and stepped up to the computer screen. He had things to plan.
A grim smile appeared on his face.
He had things to plan.
He had to prepare to leave the ship and travel to Coruscant.
But before that, he needed to contact Duncan McLeod, to set up a rendez-vous with the Scot.
And he needed to steal the blueprints to the Death Star.
His smirk widened as the first ideas for a plan started to form in his head.
And the rest, as they say, was history.
The End.
Title: Immortal Plans
Author: Kathie
Fandom: Highlander/Star Wars
Rating: FRT
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Highlander. Too bad, eh?
Summary: Methos is forced to do something he didn't want to do
Authors Notes: I have to thank three people for this. First, Bev, for the inspiration for this. Thanks, general! Second, to Dee and Ginny, for their encouragement, the word help, everything. :) Not to mention summary and title.
***
"Why didn't I kill you yet?" Darth Vader, Anakin Skywalker, sighed and allowed his shoulders to slump down for a moment.
The man lounging in the throne-like chair in Lord Vader's private rooms smirked up at him and ran a hand through his dark, spiky hair. "Because I'm better with a sword - or sabre - than you are."
"No," Vader said grimly and pushed the man's feet off the table with a short thought. "It's just your ability to plan that's useful to me."
The smirk didn't disappear as the man calmly put his feet back on the table. "I feel unloved."
"You are unloved," Vader calmly said and raised his hand. The black glove shone in the harsh light as he balled his hand to a fist.
With a dry snap, the other man's neck broke, and he fell to the ground in a heap, like a doll with cut strings.
Darth Vader shook his head slightly and used the Force to levitate the broken body high in the air and towards the small cot in the corner. He himself didn't need it. He didn't sleep here. But, no matter what he said, he needed this man, he was important for his operations.
**
Methos woke up with a pounding headache, which wasn't so unusual these days.
Slowly he raised a hand to his neck, making sure that the bones had aligned correctly and healed the way they were supposed to. With a soft sigh, he realized that he didn't need to worry. Vader - Anakin, he corrected himself quietly - had taken care of things. He would be okay and completely pain-free within half an hour.
Slowly he sat up, only to face Anakin, who had calmly waited for him to wake up.
"Happy now?" he asked quietly, tiredly.
Anakins breath was loud in the otherwise quiet room, and not for the first time Methos asked himself what had become of his brother.
Brother.
The term left the taste of ash in his mouth. He had been forced to watch his brothers - Kronos, Silas, Caspian - die, and the one he liked most, Silas, had even died at his own hands.
And now Anakin, who was more than these three could ever have been.
Not for the first time, he wondered if he might, one day soon, be forced to kill his last brother, too.
"Methos."
Anakins voice was sharp, as if he'd read his thoughts, but Methos knew that he couldn't have. He wasn't force-sensitive, but he had the ability to shield his thoughts from them all, be they now Jedi or Sith. His thoughts were his alone. They could kill his body, again and again, but they couldn't steal his mind.
"Anakin," he replied softly.
"I'm sending you to Coruscant," Anakin said, quietly. "Soon I will travel to Yavin, to supervise the completion of the Death Star. I don't need you there."
Methos nodded quietly, but he didn't say anything. Bitterness filled him as he realized that his brother considered him a burden, nothing more.
Maybe the Rebels had been right. Maybe Duncan had been right, again, and Anakin Skywalker was dead, replaced by a machine - Darth Vader.
Maybe it was time for him to move on.
He cursed McLeod under his breath, for doing this to him again - he was Methos, he was Death on a pale horse, he didn't need a conscience. He was the oldest Immortal in the whole galaxy.
He didn't need McLeod to nag at him and make him do stupid and dangerous heroic things.
And yet...
He watched as Anakin - Vader - stared at him for a moment longer, but he didn't move until the Dark Lord had turned around and left.
Only then did he get up, pulled his dark cloak tight aroung his shoulders, and stepped up to the computer screen. He had things to plan.
A grim smile appeared on his face.
He had things to plan.
He had to prepare to leave the ship and travel to Coruscant.
But before that, he needed to contact Duncan McLeod, to set up a rendez-vous with the Scot.
And he needed to steal the blueprints to the Death Star.
His smirk widened as the first ideas for a plan started to form in his head.
And the rest, as they say, was history.
The End.