Five Things Methos Said To the Doctor
Methos had lived many lives over the millennia. He’d been both a
scholar and a slave, a killer and a healer, a thief and a judge.
He’d even been a monk at one time… although that had ended
with a splash.
But none of those lives had prepared him for his strangest
That of being a companion.
“Just turn the knobbly thing to the left when I say so,” The Doctor
hollered, one leg up on the console as he dangled from the cables
that hung from the Tardis’s ceiling.
The Tardis reeled and Methos went flying through the air and
skidded along the floor, his head meeting the wall with a
resounding thump. Gingerly, he levered himself onto his elbows and
eyed the console platform. Sparks danced around the controls,
casting shadows across the room, and Methos quickly closed his eyes
and let his head fall back onto the floor.
It didn’t help; he didn’t think anything would erase the freakish
image of a twenty-foot shadow doctor attached to tentacle-like
“What are you doing over there?” The Doctor asked irritably,
glancing up from the tangle of wires he’d had his nose buried in.
“I’m taking a little nap. What does it look like I’m doing?” he
threw back, trying to put some bite into the retort. It didn’t
work; he was just too bloody tired.
“I swear, you Immortals,” the Doctor proclaimed, waving his sonic
thing-gummy in the air. “A little dimensional turbulence and you go
all wobbly at the knees.”
Methos counted to ten and slowly got to his feet. He was beginning
to feel like Shrodinger’s cat
Was he alive? Was he insane? W as he hurtling through space and
time in a blue wooden box?
Tune in and find out if the old man had finally lost it.
Methos shook his head, wincing as it immediately began to throb. It
would be another few minutes before he was completely recovered,
but he didn’t have another few minutes. He stumbled towards the
console and staggered up the steps, hanging onto the rails as the
Tardis shuddered. The smell of hot metal tainted the air and a tut
of concern came from above.
“The poor old girl can’t take much more of this,” the Doctor said,
worry evident in his tone as he glanced downwards. “Ready?”
Methos shrugged. “As I’ll ever be.”
Muttering a brief prayer to the Gods under his breath, Methos
turned the dial. A hollow moan shuddered through the hull and,
suddenly, the Tardis seemed to give a sigh of relief.
“Why did you rescue me?” Methos asked abruptly, as the Doctor
grinned and landed lightly on the platform. “They were hundreds of
people running for their lives, why me?”
The Doctor’s grin widened as he clapped him on the shoulder.
“Because you, my friend, said the immortal words.”
Methos groaned at the pun. “And which words were those? Get me out
“Actually, it was more along the lines of ‘and whose bright idea
was it to let loose an army of psychotic peppershakers in London.’”
The Doctor smirked. “Want to find out?”
Methos eyed the Doctor suspiciously as his eyes became unfocused.
“Hello, Earth to Doctor?”
“This isn’t normal, you know,” the Doctor murmured, ignoring the
hand Methos waved in front of his face.
“Is that so,” Methos drawled. “And what exactly does pass
for normal around here?”
“Huh?” the Doctor blinked and looked at him thoughtfully. “Oh, you
know, certain death, strange adventures, that sort of thing,” he
“Glad you cleared that up then, I can so see the
He grinned. “That was sarcasm wasn’t it? You’re quite good at it.
Must be all the practice you’ve had.”
Methos raised an eyebrow. “Which reminds me, how exactly did you
know I was an immortal? It’s not exactly on my passport.”
“Oh, that was easy,” the Doctor said, shrugging. “You told me.”
“I see...and when did I do that, exactly?”
“Sixteenth century, little pub down by the docks in Bristol, you in
your cups and using a different name, me sporting a long, stripy
scarf and a different face – ring any bells?”
“Huh, really?” the Doctor asked, a frown of puzzlement appearing on
his face. “I usually make an impression, must have been all the
grog. Oh well, never mind. Where was I again? Ah yes; this isn’t
normal, you know.”
Methos groaned as the Doctor started bouncing on the balls of his
feet. He suddenly had a strange feeling he knew how this
conversation was going to go. “And why isn’t it normal?” he asked,
The Daleks are extinct in this Dimension.”
“And what are the Daleks?” he asked patiently.
“The psychotic peppershakers.”
“Ah indeed, who knew that taking off my tie would become so
complicated?” Methos gritted his teeth, refusing to take the bait,
and the Doctor wilted slightly. “Oh well, nothing for it, I
suppose. We’ll have to take a little detour – hold on!”
Methos quickly snatched at the railings as the Doctor twiddled at
the controls, holding his breath as the Tardis started making a
strange, rhythmic, sound. “Where are you taking us?” he asked
“Not really sure,” he said cheerfully. “Sometimes, you have to go
with the flow.” The Tardis fell silent and the Doctor rubbed his
hands together. “Let’s find out where we are, shall we?” he said as
he half walked, half bounced, to the door and flung it open. “Oh,
this I wasn’t expecting.”
Curious despite himself, Methos peered over the shoulder. “Dear
“What do you reckon, first century BCE or CE?” the Doctor asked,
raising an eyebrow.
“Definitely BCE,” Methos murmured, pointing at the roof of a
distant temple. “That didn’t make it to the common era.”
“Handy, aren’t you?” the Doctor observed. “So…where should we
The Doctor sighed. “If you were a psychotic peppershaker, bent on
destroying the world, where would you be?”
Methos shrugged. “Well, you know what they say. When in Rome—”
“Do as the Romans do,” the Doctor finished for him. “That doesn’t
help much, you know. They were exactly two things the Romans were
good at. Building roads and invading…aaaaaah.” He grinned.
“Brilliant! Lets go.”
“The Coliseum of course, where else!”
“Do we have to? I don’t exactly have fond memories of the
“Ah, watched one to many gladiator fights, did we?”
“Actually, it was more along the lines of being in one too
many Gladiator fights,” Methos admitted.
The Doctor paused “Not exactly the smartest career choice.”
“Who said anything about choice?”
The spectators leapt to their feet with a roar, circling Methos in
a ring of waving arms as he sat firmly on the stone step. “I don’t
believe you talked me into this,” he muttered as a sea of flowers
passed over his head and into the arena below.
“Oh come on! What’s not to like?” the Doctor asked, taking a deep
breath. “Can you smell that? That’s the sweet aroma of testosterone
in the air.”
“It’s two people, trapped in a pit, being forced to kill each
other,” Methos pointed out flatly. “There isn’t anything remotely
entertaining about it.”
“You’ve got a point,” he said, snatching a rose from the air. “But
there’s nothing we can do about it, I’m afraid. It’s part of
history…huh, that’s funny.” Threading the rose through his
buttonhole, the Doctor gazed into the distance.
Methos sighed wearily. He’d known the Time Lord for less than a day
and he could already recognise that tone. “Come on, spit it out, I
know you want to.”
“Nah, it’s probably nothing,” the doctor muttered. “Except…well…it
probably wouldn’t hurt to check it out, would it?” A grin flashed
across his face. “Come on, let’s go!”
Methos eyed the hand that was suddenly thrust at his face. “Gee,
Dad, I think I can cross the road by myself,” he drawled, getting
to his feet.
With a swirl of his coat, the Doctor darted through the crowd and
Methos hurried to catch up. “Maybe I should have held his hand,
after all,” he thought irritably as he reached the archway the
Doctor had gone through. The stairwell was pitch black, and Methos
blinked to readjust his eyes. “Doctor?”
“Over here,” a voice whispered, and Methos peered into the
“Why are you whispering?” he asked in a low voice as he made out
the Time Lord’s outline against the wall
“We’re not alone,” he said softly, putting a finger to his lips as
he pointed down the stairs.
Methos followed his gaze, his eyes narrowing as she saw a faint
glint of metal below them. “Is that—”
The Doctor nodded, his face suddenly grim. “My guess is they’re
looking for new genetic material for their drones, and who better
to supply it than the finest warriors in Rome?”
“Genetic material? What are they doing, swabbing them for their
“More like a blood sample.”
Methos sighed “Let me guess, we’re not talking about a nice, clean
syringe, are we?
“Not really,” the Doctor said tersely. “Follow me, and be quiet.
The last thing we need is your nattering tipping them off.”
“Oh, that’s rich—”
Methos glared mutinously as the Doctor pulled out his sonic
screwdriver and slowly crept down the steps. Tempting as it was to
walk away and leave the annoying alien to deal with the killer
robots all by himself, the Doctor was his only ticket out of this
century…and besides, irritating though he undoubtedly was, he
had saved his life. Muttering under his breath, Methos
followed him down the steps.
A high-pitched, nasal voice filled the air, and the Doctor froze
mid step. “The mission is almost complete, once the games are
over, we shall move to the final phase.”
“Affirmative, the Emperor shall be pleased.”
A faint whir filled the air, and Methos watched as the two Daleks
flew down the stairs.
“You know, back in the old days, they stayed dead when you killed
them,” the Doctor muttered, anger showing in his voice. “That
bloody Dalek has more lives than a Time Lord.”
“Maybe he took a genetic sampling,” Methos said, sarcasm dripping
from his voice.
The doctor’s face fell still, his shadowed face becoming harsh and
forbidding. “That wasn’t funny.”
Methos had the uneasy feeling he stepped on a painful subject. “Is
there something you haven’t told me.?”
“Oh, there’s plenty I haven’t told you but as you don’t exactly
have a century to spare… actually, that’s not true, is it?” A small
smile appeared on his lips, softening his face. “Do you realise how
rarely I meet someone who’s actually older than me?”
Methos smirked. “Not as much of a rarity as it is for me,
I’ll bet,” he shot back.
“Oh, there are a few – none on Earth of course, but
nevertheless...” he smirked. “Come on, let’s go save the world.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve met the Highlander, have you?” Methos asked
rhetorically as they crept down the steps.
“Which one, Conor or Duncan?”
Methos groaned, he should have known. “Duncan.”
“Early twentieth century, Scotland, played nine holes with him and
a chap called Fitz, Nice golf course.”
“But of course,” Methos muttered.
The doctor stopped, raising a hand. “We’re here.”
Methos glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow as he looked
at the blank stone wall in front of them. “Looks like a dead end to
The Doctor grinned, the sonic screwdriver in his hand coming to
life. “Watch!” The wall clicked and a hidden door slid open,
revealing a brightly lit flight of metallic steps. “The Daleks
always had a thing for secret, underground lairs. Let’s go.”
“Hold on a minute,” Methos protested. “Are you seriously suggesting
we go down there? They’ll make mince meat out of us!”
“You’re armed, aren’t you?”
“I’ve got a sword, they’ve got laser weapons that can vaporize a
human at thirty paces, do the math!”
“What’s life without a little adventure?”
“You know what?” Methos said. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I
prefer the arena after all.”
The Doctor grinned. “Ah, but where’s the fun in that?” he said.
“This is much more exciting.”
Methos threw him a disbelieving look. “In case it has escaped your
notice, we’re completely surrounded.”
The doctor shrugged, a feat more difficult than it sounds,
considering they both had their hands in the air. “Look on the
bright side; at least we’ve found their secret lair.”
“You will be silent!”
“Yes, he does go on, doesn’t he?” the Doctor said conversationally.
“I keep telling him—”
“Silence, or you will be exterminated.”
“Oh, well, that’s told me, hasn’t it?”
“Will you please shut up,” Methos hissed out of the corner
of his mouth.
“Relax, they can’t kill us yet,” the Time Lord drawled. “Not until
the high muckity-muck has had a chance to gloat over me – isn’t
“The Emperor is God!” the Daleks shrieked in unison.
“See what I mean?” the Doctor sighed. “So where is the Emperor,
then; hiding in the shadows? Not very Godlike of him, is it?”
The circle of Daleks drew tighter, leaving them even less room to
manoeuvre in. “Um, Doctor, maybe it’s not a good idea to goad the
evil robots with laser guns.”
“You know, maybe it’s just me, but I always thought those things
looked rather silly,” the Doctor plunged on. “But what can you
expect when you’re working with a second rate God?”
“ The Emperor is God, the Emperor is all powerful, you shall not
mock the Emperor.”
“Where is he then?” the Doctor asked amiably. “Popped out for a bit
of lunch, has he?”
“Soon the gateway shall be ready, and the Emperor will come -
and you shall be exterminated!”
“They really don’t like you, do they? Methos observed.
“Yes, well, I did destroy their entire civilisation,” he said,
shrugging. “People tend to take that kind of thing personally.”
“Indeed,” Methos said dryly. “I don’t suppose you have a plan, by
“No, not really,” he said. “But let’s have a stab at it anyway. My
arms are getting tired.”
Methos wasn’t really sure what happened next. One moment, the
doctor was standing right beside him, smiling widely; he next, he
was leaping over one of the Daleks, his screwdriver glowing on his
hand. “Bloody hell!” he growled as he dove between two of the
advancing Daleks, wincing as a laser bolt singed his hair.
“Come on!” the Doctor yelled over his shoulder as he sprinted down
a corridor. “You can have your nap later.”
Cursing under his breath, Methos scrambled to his feet and ran
after him, “You actually get a kick out of this, don’t you?” he
said, through gritted teeth, as he noticed the gleeful look on the
“What’s not to love?” he asked, as they skidded around a corner.
“You know this is madness.”
“Not as mad as an Earth ruled by Daleks, trust me on this,” the
Doctor declared as they entered another, smaller chamber. “Now, if
I was gateway from a nether-dimension, where would I be?”
“Nether-dimension? You just made that up, didn’t you?”
“I wish. Nasty things, nether-dimensions, and nearly
impossible to access…but what else could it be? It’s the only
feasible way he could have survived – this way.”
Methos was beginning to get the impression that the Doctor did a
lot of running down corridors, he certainly seemed to have a lot of
enthusiasm for it.
After what seemed like an age, they halted at a pair of large,
double doors, and Methos put a hand on his arm as the Doctor
grabbed the handle. “We don’t have any idea of what is on the other
side,” he pointed out.
“True,” he agreed. “But, on the other hand, we know exactly
what’s behind us. How could it get any worse?”
“You had to say that, didn’t you?”
“Kind of, yeah,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “Ready?”
“Would no be an acceptable answer?”
“Not really,” he said, pushing the door open.
The room glowed; there was no other description for it. The walls
glowed, the ceiling glowed, the great big transparent vats of weird
blue liquid glowed; hell, even the floor glowed.
“I wouldn’t look too closely at those, if I were you,” the Doctor
said quietly as Methos took an involuntary step towards one of the
“Who not….oh,” Methos gulped down a wave a nausea. “What are they?”
he eventually asked.
“They are…or should I say were, gladiators,” the Doctor
said. “Not pretty, is it? The Dalek’s have a twisted sense of
“Another thing they’ve got in common with the Romans,” Methos said
“Yes, and before I’m finished they’ll be another yet,” the Doctor
said, his voice grim. “It’s time to see the Dalek Empire fall.”
“What exactly are you looking for?” Methos asked, as the doctor
shuffled along the wall, his ear pressed up against it.
“Ssssh,” the Doctor said. “We don’t have much time.” He pushed
himself away from the wall and frowned at it. “Hmm, that’s
funny…ah, of course!” A smile lit up his face as he stared at his
shoes. “How interesting.”
Methos sighed, tapping his foot impatiently, as the doctor fell to
his knees and put his ear to the floor. “I don’t think there’s a
train coming,” he drawled.
Methos watched in disbelief as the Doctor licked the floor, then
spat, as if he’d suddenly found something disagreeable in his
mouth. No doubt about it, he was a very strange individual…well,
he’d met worse, he supposed. He never really understood Byron’s
attachment to that goat, for instance….”
“Found it! Better stand back,” the screwdriver glowed, and Methos
hastily retreated as the part of the floor began to liquidise.
“What, the hell, is that?” he asked as the Doctor scrambled to his
“That, my dear…what are you calling yourself nowadays, anyway?”
“You mean you don’t already know?” Methos teased, then relented as
the Doctor quirked an eyebrow. “Call me Adam.”
“Nice, I like the way you picked your words…and you may still call
me the Doctor.
“Great, now that we’ve got the pseudonyms out of the way, could you
tell me what happened to the floor?”
“Oh, that’s easy, there is no floor. There is only the Gateway.”
“Why thank you, Padiwan,” Methos said, sarcasm lacing his voice.
“Now could I have that in English, please?”
“Ooh, a pop reference. There’s hope for you yet.” The Doctor
grinned as he dove for the nearest vat, and started pulling wires
out of its base. “No time to explain, just to get ready to run.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that?”
“Doctor, I think the bad guys have found us,” Methos said, his eyes
trained on the open doorway.
“No need to worry,” the Doctor said. “By the time they get here
they’ll have bigger things to deal with.”
“Oh, in that case…” Methos muttered under his breath.
“I heard that,” the Doctor said genially, as he fused the mess of
wires together. “Have a little faith.”
“I’d rather a have a weapon,” Methos said, warily watching the
door. “Preferably something along the lines of a rocket
“Nah, too messy, don’t want to bring down the coliseum down on top
of us, do we?”
“It wasn’t just what he said, it was the way he said it,”
Methos mused as he studied the back of the Doctor’s head. “As if
he came to a conclusion by a completely different route to everyone
else…his world must be very strange place.” Methos tried to
imagine an entire civilisation made up of Doctors…and then
“Hello, Earth to Methos? Time to go.”
Methos blinked, and stared at the Doctor as he jumped up. “I
thought you didn’t know my name.”
The Doctor’s eyes filled with humour. “I said I didn’t know what
you were calling yourself,” he pointed out smugly. “I never said I
didn’t know your name.”
“Why you little—”
The vats suddenly began to gurgle, and the Doctor grabbed his arm.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said it was time to go,” he said.
“Run for your life!” The Doctor crowed. The words had the sound of
They had barely gained the corridor when the first Dalek floated
into view, and they both skidded to a halt.
Methos caught the Doctor’s eye. “The other way?” he asked.
“The other way,” the Doctor confirmed. They spun around and ran…for
Methos wasn’t really sure in what direction they were going
anymore, he just followed the Doctor’s lead, which was disturbing
on many levels. Did he really trust the Doctor with his life?
Apparently, he did.
“This way,” the Doctor yelled, grabbing his arm as he barrelled
through a doorway and up a flight of steps.
“Why are we in such a hurry?” Methos asked, slightly out of breath.
“They don’t seem to be following us.”
“Because if we’re not on the other side of the door at the top of
these steps in thirty seconds, we’re going to be sucked into the
nether-world and die a horrible, and very final death.”
“Good enough for me.”
They burst through the door, finding themselves above ground once
more, and the Doctor slammed it behind him, resting against it as
he caught his breath. “Five,” he panted. “Four, three,
There was nothing. No sound, no boom, nothing.
Methos raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure it worked?” he asked.
“Not really, no,” he admitted. “Want to find out?” Not waiting for
an answer, he opened the door a crack and poked his head in.
“Well?” Methos asked impatiently.
“See for yourself,” he said, opening the door wide. On the other
side was a small stone alcove the size of a cupboard.
“Where are the steps gone?” Methos asked, frowning.
The Doctor shrugged. The Daleks don’t exist anymore, so neither
does their secret base.”
“Handy that,” Methos observed.
The Doctor smiled happily. “Yes, isn’t it? Shall we go?”
The Doctor clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I don’t know
about you, but I have a tie to collect.
Methos kept his lips firmly shut; there was no way in hell he was
going to ask.
The doctor sighed. “You’re no fun. Come on, I’ll drop you off on
the way there.”
And Methos grinned at his back as the Time Lord led the way.
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