Methos poured himself a cup of coffee before joining Duncan MacLeod in front of the crackling campfire. “There’s a great deal to be said for anachronisms,” he said contentedly as he sprawled against a log, stretching out his long legs. He held out his mug, and Duncan poured Methos a healthy slosh of scotch from the bottle that sat between them.
“Yeah, several of the youngsters have already pointed out that a thermal unit would be much more efficient,” Duncan commented with an eye roll.
“I presume you gave them a sufficiently cowing glower?” Methos asked with a grin. Duncan just snorted in reply, and the two men drank in companionable silence, watching the sparks from the fire climb up into the alien night.
Methos poured more scotch into their mugs. “I will admit that being here on this new planet almost makes me feel young myself. Four moons, new stars, a red sun — bloody amazing.”
“I remember seeing the first moon landing on TV. But I never thought it would lead to here two hundred years later; founding a new colony on another planet, starting a new life.” He threw another piece of wood on the fire. "We've been here a week now, but I don't know if I'll ever get used to it."
Methos leaned back against his log, staring up at the stars. “I have sat in front of countless campfires and looked up at the night sky and wondered. And you know what? That hasn’t changed; even though I’m part of the stars now.”
“That was very profound,” Duncan proclaimed. “Must be the scotch.”
He tossed what looked like a pinecone at the Highlander. “A little respect, thank you!”
Laughing, he batted the almost-pinecone aside. Then more seriously, he asked, “Do you ever think that maybe the answers are out here?” Methos didn’t answer, looking down at the mug in his hands. “You have to have wondered if this is where we’re from, Immortals. From another planet entirely.”
“Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” Sighing, Methos looked at his friend. “But honestly, Mac, I don’t know. And even now that we’re out here amongst the stars, we might never know the answer to that question.”
“Still, it would be good to find out, one way or the other.”
Smirking, Methos replied, “Let me share something else profound with you: home is where the heart is. Wherever we may be from, that will never change, Highlander. Guaranteed.”
Nodding, Duncan said half to himself, “Definitely the scotch.”
“It usually is,” Methos agreed.
Their laughter floated out into the night reaching for the stars above.