Crossover: HL/House

Characters: Methos (John Smith), House (aged 14)

For prompt: 015 Blue

Rating: G

Spoilers: for season 3 House ep. “one day, one room” if you squint really hard.

Summary: the second time Methos had it under control.

A/N: Second in the “5 times House didn’t cure Methos” series.

Okinawa’s traffic was a nightmare. Obviously the Japanese hadn’t heard of crosswalks. His dad had been posted at the base here for a couple of months and he was only now starting to get the hang of crossing the road while cars zipped by on all sides as if he wasn’t there.

He had felt sure he was going to get hit on the way here despite how late it was. His friend was still in hospital after his fall and, since he didn’t feel like going home to be berated by his father yet again for letting such a stupid accident happen, Greg had come into the centre of town looking for somewhere that might serve an underaged American kid.

It wasn’t going well.

He was just about to give it up and go home when he saw a guy run right out into the road ahead of him and get hit by a bright blue Honda that didn’t stick around to see if he was ok.

People started to crowd around the fallen man as soon as he hit the ground, but despite the blood oozing down his face he was up and going before anyone had a chance to stop him.

Greg was impressed in a disbelieving kind of way. There was no way anyone could just get up after being hit like that. If he could find the guy he might be able to help. He could take him to hospital, be the one who saved the day and stop his dad from teaching him a lesson…

Who was he kidding. He could never stop his dad doing that.

But he was going to try anyway. He cut up a street he was pretty sure crossed the same alley the guy had run down. Only two false turns later and there he was, covered in blood slumped next to a dumpster.

He was very still.

Greg hadn’t been expecting this: what did he do if the guy was already dead? He approached cautiously, as if caution could prevent the man on the ground from being dead…

A loud gasp made Greg jump. Whoever this man was he obviously wasn’t dead: he was coughing now, standing up, only to lean over and spit blood and god knew what else into the gutter. He picked up a blood-stained sword from the ground and settled it inside his long coat.

Greg only felt a little satisfied when the mystery man saw him there and jumped as high as he had only moments before.

“Hello.”

He had a strange accent: slightly British and oddly familiar.

“Hi.”

“I’m fine.”

“So I can see.” He was right. He didn’t look in any pain at all. “Except for the blood.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Right…”

“Well, I better get going.”

The man walked passed him and Greg suddenly remembered where he knew that voice, that face, from.

“Hey I know you!”

“I doubt it.”

“John! When I was younger I got bit by a dog and you told me to make sure I cleaned it properly.”

John turned to face him. “You have a good memory,” he said with a smug smile. “And I told you to get your mum to clean it.”

“What are you doing in Japan?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he glanced passed Greg down the alley the way he had come. “But I’ve gotta go.”

John waved off-handedly as began to jog away.

“See you around some time!”