fandomhigh | The Library Is Very Closed (Locked, NFB)

Janet walked blearily toward the library. She was going in early, while it was still closed, to get the backlog taken care of. As she glanced up from trying to make sure she didn't trip over her own feet, she saw--lightning? Lightning through the library windows? Janet broke into a run, adrenaline pushing away the tiredness.

She pushed open the unlocked doors, dropped her coffee mug on the nearest table, and looked around the lightning and faint clouds of smoke to see what the hell was going on. Janet clasped the straps of her backpack in both hands and brought it in front of her, ready to use as a weapon if she needed to.

The library looked like it had been through a windstorm. Whatever protective spell kept the books from being harmed had held, but they were blown about and littered the floor. Everything else was scattered, torn, splashed or smeared everywhere.

In the middle of it, Methos sat on his heels, drained. A sword was in his hand but the point trailed on the ground. In front of him was the severed head of a blond boy, a bit farther away the body.

Janet's eyes widened and she ran forward, stopping five feet away from the...body. And Methos. "What the hell?"

OOC: This post was jointly written by Janet and Methos; this is posted by Janet with Methos' permission. I'm posting it as I'm in the earlier time zone. Slow-play is our friend here, and you've been contacted privately if you're on the list of people who can comment. :) We'll have another post later today with the library open for more interaction. (Methos? I assumed NFB due to OMG!angst and other IC sekrit stuff. Correct me if I'm wrong and I'll edit.)

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"I don't know," Methos said, rather helplessly. "It just... it's not the same thing."

"A garbage bag, maybe," he said. "Something that will contain the blood."

"If you hadn't killed him," said Janet. "He would have killed you." She paused and stared at him. "Did you start this fight?"

The irony of speaking to a five thousand year old man the way she'd speak to Cassie was not lost on her.

Janet nodded tersely. "Yes," she said, getting several from behind the Collections Desk. She took a pair of scissors and cut them open, then spread them on a clear patch of ground.

Methos knelt to lower the body onto the bags Janet was spreading on the ground. There was a bullet hole in his shirt, and blood soaked the area around it. He laughed, humorlessly. "No. I didn't start this fight. But I was damn well going to end it."

He looked up to meet Janet's eyes. "This is what we do. We kill each other. For the so-called Prize, for power, for vengence, because we're somehow still human enough to enjoy murdering for the sake of it. And it doesn't end, not until only one of us is left."

"So you defended yourself when you were attacked," said Janet. "What were you supposed to do? Let him take your head off instead?" She noticed the bullet hole in his shirt and frowned at it. "You're remarkably not dead for someone with a bullet directly through the aorta and that much blood loss." She walked around the body, knelt down, and reached to examine him. She wanted to make sure he was all right.

His eyes held very little guilt. They were full of regret, though, and no small amount of anger--even some self-loathing, she though, hiding behind everything else. "What an absolute waste of life," said Janet, her eyes darkening. When I think of all the people I've seen who've fought and died in a war and they kill each other over some stupid prize? "What's this so-called prize supposed to be? A trophy? A plaque with 'Immortal of the Millenium' engraved on it?"

She looked down at the body. A thousand years ago, life was different. Harsher. "Did he ever get the chance to just be a child?"

"Huh? Right. He had a gun. Smart way to take down someone bigger than you. Unfortunately for him, I healed before it killed me, so he didn't get a chance to take my head while I was down."

"God knows what the Prize is. And I mean that rather literally. All I know is that I don't want it. But I don't want to die, either, so I have to keep fighting."

"Probably not. If life was fair, he would have grown old and died and never had to fight. But life isn't fair, and he stayed alive as long as he could, and then he lost."

The only way they can die is to have their head cut off? Fascinating. The gruesome aspects weren't lost on her, but Janet had a great deal of practice with clinical detachment.

"I'm glad you're still alive," she said. "And I'm glad you intend to stay that way, despite--" She looked down at the body. "--his worst intentions."

Janet sighed. "Now if only life were fair for all of us." She wrapped the garbage bags around the body and stood.

OOC: OMG. Finally got back to this. Want to have Methos get Rovered after this, Janet can gripe, and then we can end the scene?

"Janet," Methos said. He caught her wrist to get her attention. "Thank you. I... am very grateful for your help."

They both heard the squeaking out in the hallway of Rover coming. "Looks like it's time to pay the piper," Methos said grimly.

She looked up at Methos, surprised when she felt his hand close firmly around her wrist. "You're welcome." There was more underneath the surface of what he was saying, but Janet couldn't interpret it right now.

She glanced at the door. "Good luck with the Dean," she said. "I've heard he's a terror."

The Library Is Very Closed (Locked, NFB)

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