Work Header  Death Takes a Holiday  Chapter Text  Death takes a
holiday   It was dark and silent in Methos’ apartment, as it
often is at night, and because it was twelve o’clock, the clock
struck midnight[1]. Methos stirred in his bed, and awoke. He was
never one to believe in the supernatural, but something, perhaps
a finely honed survival instinct, made him look down at the end
of the bed. There, floating some seven or so foot from the
floor, were two blue pinpricks. Methos rubbed his eyes, but they
did not disappear. He moved one hand to the light switch and the
other to the revolver under his pillow, and then turned on the
light.  YOU SHOULD GET ONE OF THOSE CLAPPING THINGS, a voice
from the end of the bed said amiably. Ostensibly it came from
the figure at the end of the bed, but as that was an eight foot
tall skeleton, and its jaw hadn’t moved, Methos wasn’t entirely
certain that was the case. He just had the general impression
that the skeleton had spoken to him.  “You mean a clapper? Not
very good for