This is a critique of Matthew Haldeman-Time's Gather, written by resident Highlander June Cleaver.

Note: Just to show that we present a variety of opinions and viewpoints here at CABS, Jane named Matthew Haldeman-Time "Best Author" in the CABS 2000 Awards, yet his Highlander story, "Gather," didn't do much for June. Some might call that schizophrenic. We call it eclectic.

Gather begins with the following caveat: [Wherein Adam Pierson says, "It's my mouth, I'll do with it what I want"; eggs are insulted and assaulted unnecessarily; and the writers draws on a few fanonical MacLeod stereotypes.]

This is your first clue that Matthew is writing in his own little world, and that his world has very little, if anything at all, to do with the canonical Highlander universe. I will give Matthew extra cookies for being ballsy enough to admit up-front that he doesn't know jack-shit about MacLeod; although on second thought, I don't know why I should give him more cookies - he isn't asking for leniency. Instead, he appears quite proud of his ignorance of Mac's character. Whatever. Besides, anyone who reads this story will realize that on their own within the first page or two. Within four or five pages, it'll become equally apparent that he doesn't know diddly about Methos, either.

As well, this story could serve as a prime example of telling not showing. Here's the first example of this problem; sadly, it's hardly the worst. Although, given its importance to the story, and the fact that we've got to believe this if we're going to believe any of it... Maybe this is the worst example, after all.

He killed that first immortal, then showered and dressed. He reheated his tea and wondered what he should do now. He didn't feel a pull anywhere, had no innate desire to run off to a field somewhere for a battle, the final showdown. Really, if it weren't for his own certainty and conclusion-jumping, he'd have no idea that the Gathering was ending.

Say what? I'd love to know what on earth persuaded MacLeod to jump to this conclusion; there's damn sure nothing in the text that would lead him to make that sort of outrageous assumption, and believe me, deciding the Gathering is on would absolutely rock Mac's world. He'd be frantic, trying to do fifty things at once. Desperate to find out if his friends felt it too, he'd want to know what the Watchers know, and what they suspect; he'd wonder what Methos thought - if he'd ever felt something like this before; he'd be on his phone and his computer, trying to find out which of his friends were still alive...speaking of which, he'd be terrified that, before long, he'd find himself being forced to kill, or be killed by, people he's known for centuries, friends and lovers both.

Instead, he swills his tea, and assumes ho-hum, it's the time of the Gathering. I'm trying, and I can't think of a single reason why Mac would react (or fail to react) the way he does. Wait, it's coming to me. The story's title is Gather, hence, it's the time of the Gathering, and MT needs Duncan to play along. Gotcha. It all makes sense now - it's lazy writing, but at least I've solved the mystery.

"You shouldn't be here," Duncan said earnestly. "You should be on holy ground."

"Can't," Methos said. "It started kicking immortals off a week before this phase started."

Okay, so Methos believes it's here too. Or at least that's what the author seems to be telling us. Here we find that telling not showing problem again. The guys start discussing the bloody, violent end of everything they've ever known, and the impending brutal deaths of all their friends and lovers with all the passion of last week's hockey scores. I know I'm on the edge of my seat here.

And sentient Holy Ground?!? Kicking Immies off, all by itself? Where in the hell did that idea come from? No place in the series, that's for damn sure.

He hung up and paused, then turned to Duncan, eyes opening. "Richie's fine. Amanda died in Cairo."

"Who?"

"Walter Skinner."

"I don't know him."

Walter Skinner, huh? Was there any logical reason to add the good AD into this, or was the author trying to jolt readers back out of whatever suspension of disbelief (and this story requires quite a bit) they might have going? Not to mention, Methos sure shows a lot of compassion for Mac when he tells him about the death of one of Mac's best friends, a woman he's loved for almost 350 years, doesn't he? Oh well, it fits nicely with Mac's total lack of reaction.

He couldn't seek vengeance; it wasn't safe or practical or, really, possible, since Richie had done it for him. He wasn't the type to sit down and sob for hours, either.

Not the type to sit and cry, huh? Guess MT's missed Courage, and Star-Crossed, and The Hunters, and Eye of the Beholder and Line of Fire, and Archangel, and quite a few others. That statement must be more of that fanonincal knowledge of MacLeod that MT's so proud of.

Duncan had known many people in his lifetime. He'd known some great men. He'd known some great immortals. His kinsman Connor. His friend Fitzcairn. Darius, whom he'd regarded as the greatest of them all. Until he met Methos.

Methos.

Methos was the greatest of them all. The greatest person Duncan ever had met. Anyone who didn't understand that was blind, unutterably blind.

Okay...if Mac says so. I'd much prefer it if he'd show me why he thinks that, instead of just dropping off that sort of character-twisting bombshell. Yeah, I presume we're supposed to think that Mac's over-wrought because of the Gathering, and reacting to his fears of losing Methos in the next day or two...but I'd really like to see that. Instead I'm having to do all the work, and trust me, believing that Mac would think that of Methos in the first place requires a lot of work. He may love the man, he may lust after him with every ounce of his robust Scottish blood, he would risk his life to save Methos' on a moment's notice, but he's not likely to start thinking Methos is the greatest person he's ever met anytime soon.

Darius, or maybe now, Connor, will have that honor, for a very long time.

Adam won. Duncan wondered how long this would last, how long the two of them would be able to survive. The Gathering was intense.

Intense, huh? That simply begs the question of why Methos and MacLeod aren't being driven to fight one another - something that hasn't crossed either of their minds at this point. Well, we're in Mac's POV so we can't be sure it hasn't crossed Methos' mind, but he certainly hasn't mentioned it.

Is it just me, or don't you think the guys would've noticed that they're not tempted to fight one another, and might even comment on that fact?

"When they do come, I don't want you out there fighting."

"You don't," Adam said.

"No, I don't. They're coming here for me, not for you. It's my fight."

"It's the Gathering, MacLeod. It's everyone's fight." Their gazes locked. "Fine. You can fight them all from now on. Fight whomever you want. You'll win anyway, we both know it. I just wanted-" He stopped talking abruptly, closing his mouth, stabbing viciously at the pan's egg remains with his spatula. "I hate scrambled eggs. I have hated scrambled eggs for years." Years - - how long was that to Methos? Most people meant two, five, maybe ten. "Fuck it."

Wow, actual character stuff. For the first time, I find myself wondering what Methos is thinking, and what's really going on. Cool.

"Anyone I know?"

"John Steinbeck."

He was so furious that he'd been shot, what happened next almost didn't register. Right past his ear, right over his shoulder, flying so fast it was an end-over-end blur, a dagger planted itself deep in the gunman's chest.

It's nice to see that MT believes in equal opportunity fannish stereotypes. Fanonically, Methos is as good at throwing a knife as he is at hacking into the Pentagon's inner sanctum. Canonically, there's no evidence of this at all. Speaking of Methos fanon...

"You have an entire personal arsenal, don't you?"

"Sword, knives, guns, a garrotte or two - - you'll never know what comes in handy, MacLeod. I have pockets; I strap them to various parts of my body. I don't want to die, and I'm doing my level best to see that I don't."

Misspellings aside, of course Mac wouldn't have the slightest idea about survival strategies; it's obviously sheer luck that he's lived this long in the first place.

Does MT have any idea just how silly Methos lecturing Mac about being prepared sounds?

Adam moved just slightly and the blade sliced a nick just beneath Duncan's chin. "How many of your friends have you killed, MacLeod? And which press most heavily on your conscience? Is it Sean Burns? Richie? Or the ones you killed when you had no excuse, when there was no dark quickening or Ahriman to blame-"

So your noble sacrifice is an empty gesture, MacLeod. You know I won't kill you." The dagger left.

"Why not?" Duncan asked through the pain.

"I may pretend to be practical, I may pretend to be cynical, I may pretend that I think of my own survival first, but there are times when I act completely on blind emotion. This would be one of those times."

"I hurt you."

"More than you know, Duncan. But I forgave you."

After reciting a list of the many and varied ways Mac's failed him, Our Noble Side-Kick is prepared to sacrifice himself to the depths of his love for his unworthy Highlander. And let's not forget to add the obligatory Dark Quickening rape scene (that Methos told us about in blandly, one-dimensional tones), which serves to enhance Methos' helpless victim status.

Phooey.

I'd like to direct MT to Rachael Sabotini's essay You Big Bully!. It's a detailed look at the multitude of sins committed by this sort of apology!fic.

Mac, of course, apologizes for the depths of his stupidity, insensitivity, and overall wrong-headedness within five paragraphs. And while the apology wasn't as grovelish as I'd expected (kudos to MT for resisting some temptation), I still think his Methos needs to see someone about these desires he has for someone who clearly doesn't deserve or appreciate him.

He was awake quickly, sitting up, looking to Methos. He opened his mouth to ask what was happening, but he didn't need to ask; he felt it for himself. There was something in him saying go go go, and his blood was pumping, and his adrenaline was high. Time to get out, time to go, time to finish the Game. He didn't bother to shower or even brush his teeth, just peed and dressed, dressed for the fight, grabbed his sword and left with Methos.

He heard his voice getting husky, taking on a choked sound, brogue thickening just a bit.

At least he didn't try spelling anything phonetically. If I never read another 'dinna', 'canna', or 'yew', it'll be way, way too soon.

Methos sighed, pushing away from the sofa. "I've drawn you the picture and sketched it in, now you want me to describe it to you. Fine.

"There can be only one. We went through the Gathering, MacLeod, and saw it to the end. The compulsion is over now. You don't want to kill me, and I don't want to kill you. We're the only ones left."

"Congratulations," Methos said. "You won the Prize. Will you be going to Disneyland?"

He had a feeling that Richie had influenced that remark, and that Richie was the only reason he understood it. Richie was with him still, then, thanks to the influx of Methos' quickening. He was grateful for that, at least.

"I've heard many things called unrealistic. I've learned," Methos said, "that when something becomes a part of my experience, it is very real indeed."

Methos was right about the Prize (Methos is the Prize - no, I'm not kidding), and instead of reacting in character to this revelation (or even like two normal people who happen to be immortal), they both think about it for a minute, shrug, and go on. If it weren't so tragic that MT hasn't a clue how many things are wrong with this picture, I'd consider laughing at the irony of it all. Well, I could, if I totally despised Methos and MacLeod; then I could enjoy watching the destruction of everything they've cared about, and the deaths of everyone they've ever loved at their own hands, just so they could screw forevermore without distraction. I'd offer to make a list of all the other reasons that this resolution is so offensive, but I suspect Matthew is the only one who needs me to connect the dots for him.

Highlander is a very complex show, with equally complex characters, layered over a tightly interwoven canon. Nothing happens in a vacuum in this show, and there's never been a reset button. Unlike many other shows, a hopeful Highlander writer can't just read a selection of the fic, watch an ep or three, and then start typing. Just doesn't work that way.

Sadly, that hasn't stopped Matthew... and it shows. Boy, does it show.

CABS Grade: D-