Work Text:
"Kronos?"
Methos' voice filled with dread as MacLeod said the one name he had prayed he would never hear again. His memories carried him back two thousand years, to a place he'd sooner forget...
Faux Pearl Age
Silas exited his tent, followed by Caspian, nearly ripping the brilliant cloth between them.
"It's mine!" Silas raged, stomping his feet.
"You got the last one," Caspian whined, tugging on the cloth.
Methos sighed. It was going to be one of those days. "Caspian! Silas! What are you fighting about this time?" he asked, hands on hips as he regarded his brothers.
Silas turned to his brother, hope shining from his rounded face. Methos always did like him best. "I saw this during the raid, so I say I get to keep it."
"No!" Caspian interrupted, flipping his hair off his shoulder. "This is mine! I saw it first!"
"Boys, boys," Methos chided them, walking over and massaging Caspian's shoulders to soothe the tension in them. "What were going to use it for, Silas?" Methos asked, looking askance at Silas over Caspian's shoulder.
Silas pouted. "A cape. It's such a beautiful shade of fuchsia, I thought it would compliment the wine-colored cloth we found last week."
Methos thought a bit, trying to picture the color scheme. "And Caspian," he remarked in his brother's ear, "What use did you see for it?"
Caspian's voice got breathy as he described the tunic he was going to create. Methos was impressed with the level of skills this brother possessed, and did believe he could pull it off. When Caspian was done, Methos walked between them.
"Brothers, you both show good fashion sense. Silas, I do think this would make a lovely cape, and the color scheme would be simply smashing, but..." and here, Methos turned to Caspian with a grin. "I must give my talented brother the materials to create his majestic tunic. And, if I might get to try it on, sometime?" he asked, his voice filled with daring hope.
Silas' lower lip trembled, and in a huff, he stormed off, his furs flouncing behind him.
Methos started to go after him, but Kronos' voice caught his attention.
"Was there a problem, Methos?" he called, walking up to Methos and Caspian.
Caspian answered with another toss of his hair . "Silas wanted this cloth for a cape. Methos said I could use it for a tunic instead. Wouldn't it be smashing with gathered tucks here and here?" He held the cloth up against him, and even Kronos had to admit, it would look impressive.
"I see you handled that with your usual grace and fairness, brother," Kronos complimented Methos. "But what of Silas?"
Methos sighed, his shoulders drooping. "I didn't mean to upset him. He's probably crying. I'll tend to him."
"Oh, bother! If he's streaked his makeup, that means I'll have to paint it again!" Kronos moaned, resting the back of his hand on his forehead dramatically.
Caspian threw his arm around Kronos' shoulders, patting his arm comfortingly. "Come on. Don't be that way. I'll let you be my model," Caspian whispered, dangling the fabric in front of Kronos' face.
Kronos lifted his arm, peeking at the material. "You will?"
Caspian's lips curled in a soft smile. "Mmm-hmm. And I just might let you wear it at our next raid," he revealed quietly.
But not quietly enough, as Methos spun on his heel, wailing, "But you promised I could wear it!"
"I said you could wear it sometime. You don't think I'd let you wear it then, did you?" Caspian taunted, glaring down his nose as Methos.
Kronos patted Caspian's leg as a warning.
Methos was trembling, tears glistening in his eyes as he looked to Kronos for help. "Kronos, talk to him. He said I could!"
"Now, now, Methos. You do have that teal number to wear that Caspian made for you weeks ago. Or have you forgotten?" Kronos' voice was lightly scolding, and Methos hung his head, sniffling.
"You are right, brother." Methos lifted his head, crossing his arms defiantly. "But I can still wear it after the raid, can't I?"
Caspian smiled broadly. "Of course, brother! I would never deprive you totally. And it would go so well with your bone structure."
Methos clapped his hands, his smile back in place. "Goody! Now I'll go cheer Silas up, and we can get ready for our next raid." With that, he turned and skipped to Silas' tent, leaving Kronos and Caspian muttering about tucks and seams.
~~~~~
A shudder ripped through Methos at the memories. He opened his mouth to dissuade any knowledge of Kronos, when another Buzz filled his senses. MacLeod didn't seem concerned, but Methos' nerves were already on edge, and he very nearly panicked.
The lift door rolled up, and Cassandra walked into the dojo. "You?" she shrieked, and Methos winced.
"MacLeod, who is she?" Methos hoped he could confuse Cassandra long enough to get away. He most certainly did NOT want to fall back into her clutches.
Faux Pearl Age
"Why did you save her?" Kronos looked down in disgust at the dirty figure lying at his feet.
Methos whined, "But Kronos, look at her nails! They're fab!" He pulled one of the woman's hands towards Kronos' face.
Kronos tried to deny it, but couldn't. His brother had picked perfectly yet again. "You are good, Methos," he sighed, rubbing his thumb over one perfectly polished nail.
"Let go!" The woman came back to full consciousness, yanking her hand back. "Who are you? Where are my people?"
"Such a whiny thing though," Kronos mused, wrinkling his nose.
"I'll work with her," Methos muttered, patting his brother's arm to assure him. Louder, he asked, "What is your name?"
The woman was near hysterics. "Where is Hijad? My people? Take me to them!"
"Oh dear," Kronos murmured, one elbow resting in his palm, his other hand lightly resting on his cheek.
"Hush," Methos hissed, tossing his head. "Your people are all dead. Such atrocities! They could not be allowed to live. But, I saw in you a greatness." Methos took her hand gently, kissing each of her fingertips. "These are truly magnificent, my dear."
The woman fell speechless. "What? You spared me for my fingernails?"
"But of course!" Kronos interjected, waving his hands about. "Why else? Those are truly gorgeous my dear. And we want to learn your secrets."
Methos bent down to her level, keeping her hand in his. "Can't you at least tell us your name? Please?"
"C-Cassandra," the woman stuttered. "But what of my people?"
"Fashion police!" Silas jeered as he sauntered by, a new cape flowing about his shoulders, this time in gold lame.
Her eyes widened in horror, and she snatched her hand back from Methos'. "You! You're the dreaded Four Showman! Noo!" She scampered to her feet, looking wildly about for a place to hide.
Kronos grabbed her around the waist before she could get very far. "Now, now, is that any way to treat your hosts?
"You're not hosts! You're monsters! Destroying anything or anyone that doesn't match up to your own standards!" Cassandra shrieked, clawing at Kronos' arms.
"But my dear," Methos cooed, caressing the side of her face, "You would be so pampered here. Given the finest jewelry, the finest clothes to wear. You would be utterly divine!"
Kronos hissed, getting Methos' attention. He stared pointedly at Cassandra's hands, specifically to the one that was digging into his thigh.
"Tsk-tsk," Methos chided her, prying her fingernails from Kronos' skin. "That wasn't very nice. But look at this! Not even a chip," he marveled, holding up her hand excitedly.
"Splendid. Can I put her down now? I am a bit wounded here," Kronos reminded his brother.
Methos started. "Oh, of course." He grinned sheepishly. "Forgive me, brother."
Kronos shifted Cassandra to Methos' arms, then rubbed his thigh, wincing. "They are definitely tough, Methos. Maybe she will be worth it after all."
Three weeks later, Kronos had changed his mind. He stomped around his tent, long robes flowing behind him.
"She has GOT to go, Methos."
Methos watched his brother pace, filing his fingernails impassively. "But look at what she's taught us so far, brother!" He held up his hand, admiring his handiwork. "Never have they been this smooth."
Kronos spun around, the robes continuing to wrap around his legs. "It doesn't matter. She is disrupting life here. She's still whining. She refuses to work. And she has better hair than me!" he wailed, close to tears.
Methos let out a patient sigh. "Kronos, my dear brother. I know her secrets. She has murmured them all to me before she falls asleep. We can let her go at any time."
Kronos kneeled next to his brother, face shining with hope. "Are you sure? We can kill her and dump her in the desert?"
Methos smiled, patting Kronos' hand. "Whatever you decide, brother."
~~~~~~
Methos swallowed hard, staring at Cassandra's nails. They looked just as sharp as they had three thousand years ago. From the way she was glaring at him, he didn't think she'd be up to teaching him any more beauty secrets this time.
"You don't know me," he tried to reason with her, taking refuge behind MacLeod.
"Do you think I could ever forget you?" MacLeod grabbed her around the waist, holding her back. "What you did to me, my people, it was an abomination!"
"Mac, I'm outta here!" Methos hissed, darting behind the gym equipment.
Before he got any further, another Buzz filled their senses. "Oh, no," Methos breathed. It couldn't be. But it was. And looking considerably different than the last time he had seen his brother.
Kronos burst through the doors, his arms held straight out at his sides, holding up a thick robe a la Liberace. "Methos! Brother! So good to see you again! I have been looking simply everywhere for you!"
Cassandra squealed and hid behind Duncan, who just stood and stared at the Immortal who had just entered his dojo. The robe was almost blinding; covered with diamonds, rubies and sapphires, all of them winking in the partial light. Duncan raised his eyes quickly to the lightly painted face and gasped. Perfectly applied rouge, the barest hint of lipstick, and subtle eyeshadow detracted from the ugly scar across Kronos' right eye. Earrings sparkled at his lobes, smaller versions of the gemstones that adorned his robe. His hair fell to his waist, curled softly and shining magnificently.
Kronos strode regally across the floor, kissing at Methos' cheeks before studying his face. His smile faded and he shook his head sadly. "Oh, darling, you cut your hair!" His hands fluttered at Methos' neck, as if playing with his hair. His face screwed up in anguish. "Oh, this is terrible! What of your earrings? What of your heritage?"
"I passed through my angry adolescence a little quicker than you, Kronos," Methos hissed, though he could feel the old feelings stir within him.
"Oh!" Kronos gasped, bringing both his fists to his mouth. "No Methos!" He reached out and grasped Methos' jacket, pulling him close. "Say it isn't so. Say you haven't given up the old ways!"
Methos extracted himself from Kronos' grip. "I have, Kronos. I have given it all up," he protested, though his voice was strained.
Kronos' eyes widened in fear and disbelief. "No. You are still in there, Methos. It's what you were meant to be. Remember the eyeliner? The nails? The silk and finery? No, Methos, it is still inside you."
Methos couldn't block Kronos' words. They washed over him, and he felt himself being transported back to the old days..."NO!" Methos howled, backing away in horror. "I won't! It doesn't have the control over me anymore!"
"Oh Methos," Kronos sighed, his eyes filled with tears, threatening to make his kohl run. "I didn't want to have to do this, but, you've left me no choice." From his katana space, Kronos whipped out a handful of black material, then held it out to Methos. "Take it, brother. You know you want it."
Methos shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back. But his eyes locked on the fishnets, and he heaved a sob. One trembling hand reached out, taking the bustier. "Oh, Kronos, you kept it all these years?" he whispered, tears filling his eyes.
"Of course, Methos. I could do no less for my brother," Kronos replied, as if speaking to a child.
Methos bit back a choked sob, clutching the outfit to his chest. "Did you bring it all?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.
Kronos smiled.
"No!" Duncan's voice cut through their tearful reunion. "I won't let you do this."
Kronos fluttered his hand, waving him off. "Don't interfere, little boy. Though..." he flicked his gaze up and down MacLeod, his lips pursed. "I do think I could work with you. At least you have a nice head of hair!"
"No," Methos interjected, stepping between Kronos and MacLeod. "It's me you wanted. Leave him out of this."
"Why?" Kronos asked suspiciously. "Have you been lying to me? Is he... is he?" his voice cracked, and he dropped his head into his hands, sobbing.
"Oh, bugger. Kronos. Brother." Methos pried Kronos' hands away from his face and sighed. "Now look what you've gone and done. You've ruined your makeup!
"I have some Maybelline that doesn't streak," Cassandra called out, flipping her hair arrogantly. "Too bad you didn't think to use that," she sneered.
"Oh, shut up you!" Kronos wailed, waving a hand at her. His head fell to Methos' shoulder, his sobs shaking his body.
"There, there, brother. You always did look better than her," Methos murmured into Kronos' ear.
Kronos pulled back, wiping delicately at his eyes. "Di- did you really think I did?"
Methos smiled, tenderly wiping stray tears from Kronos' face. "Of course I did. All she was good for was beauty tips. You put them to their proper use."
Kronos brightened at Methos' words. "I did, didn't I?"
Methos laughed. "Yes, you did. Now, where have you been hanging out? Have you been to Paris in the last few years?" As they started to walk out the door, MacLeod's shout drew their attention.
"Hey!"
Methos turned around, looking askance at MacLeod. "Yes?"
"Methos, you're not...you're not going with him, are you?" Duncan asked incredulously.
Methos flashed MacLeod a bright smile. "But of course, Duncan. Who do you think starred in the original La Cage Aux Faux?"
"Who do you think wrote it?" Kronos added, shifting his gaze to Methos.
As their gazes locked, they both dissolved into giggles. At the same time, they both squealed, "Rocky Horror!" Throwing their arms around each other, they exited the dojo, singing the opening number.
Duncan stared after them, his mouth hanging open.
Cassandra sighed and snapped his mouth shut. "Really Duncan. You'd think you'd never seen two men look better than you before."
"I...what? What was that all about?" Duncan spluttered, pointing in the general direction of the door.
Cassandra patted his arm, guiding him to his office. "Let's have a cup of tea and I'll try to explain it to you. You see, they caused my first death and destroyed my village. But they more than made up for it in the way they treated me..."
The End