Chapter Text
(Banner by TouchoftheWind)
Methos isn’t sure exactly how it starts, but he’s blaming MacLeod. The Scot isn’t even involved in the situation, or even anywhere near him, but MacLeod is the only explanation Methos has for stepping in when he sees the kid, alone and frightened, though hiding it well, for the third time in two days. Well, that’s not entirely true. Methos has always had a soft spot for kids and he might have indirectly intervened otherwise, but MacLeod is definitely to blame for what follows. Somehow.
So much for his Hawaiian holiday, Methos thinks as he settles down beside the kid, who’s sitting at the pool edge, legs dangling in the water, desperately trying to look nonchalant. He can’t be more than ten years old and he’s the picture of loneliness and despair. Methos sometimes can’t believe, even if he understands, how the world can be so callous as to ignore such suffering.
“Hey kid,” he says. The boy doesn’t move, doesn’t even glance in Methos’s direction. “Your parents around?”
The boy stiffens but doesn’t otherwise indicate that he’s heard Methos. Methos narrows his eyes.
“You on your own?”
There’s a pause and then the slightest nod.
“Is there someone I can call?”
A shrug this time and then a shake of his head.
“You got anyone looking out for you, at all?”
Another shake and a small sniff that’s quickly suppressed. A slight tremor runs through the kid but he’s otherwise completely still, as though if he can control himself well enough nothing will fall apart. Methos has been a father enough times that the urge to comfort is natural, instinctive, and he wraps an arm around the kid and pulls him close. There’s only a brief moment of utter stillness before a shudder runs through the kid and then he’s crying. Even his sobs are pitiful, stifled things. Methos holds him close with one arm, gently strokes his hair with the other hand, and lets him cry out his fear and loneliness. Later, when the kid’s worn himself out and fallen into a restless sleep in his arms, Methos scoops him up and makes his way to the elevator.
That is how it starts, but by no means how it ends.