Work Text:
"This is where you live?"
Norrington assessed the house - if it could even be considered that. What lay before him was akin to a small castle, with modern finishings and neatly kept gardens. A grand staircase of stone steps led up to the entrance. He had seen many houses just like it, back when he was younger, owned by the nobility and royalty.
Apparently these days anyone could own one.
She was already moving up the stairs without bothering to wait and see if he followed. She hadn't changed in two hundred years. He was trailing behind her when she replied. "I did tell you that I had plenty of room." The amusement in her voice was inescapable.
"It's like you live in a museum," he commented, following her into the open entranceway.
She snorted. "Like I would be so pretentious," she said, looking at him over her shoulder. Her heels tapped a staccato rhythm against the tiled floors, but she didn't seem to hear the sound anymore.
He was once again struck by how young she looked. But looks were deceiving, and he knew she'd seen the world change and change again over the centuries, involving herself in any way she could. When he asked her about her past, she had a tendency to tell stories from the same time periods, and even more so she preferred to tell recent stories, from work, about her patients, about the incompetencies in other doctors. (He'd had to remind her - on more than one occasion - that most doctors didn't have centuries worth of experience, like she did.)
"All the bedrooms are on the second floor," she told him, pointing to the grand staircase in front of them. "Pick any room that you like. There's only one occupied room at the moment."
He frowned. "And if I happen to pick that one?"
He regretted the words almost immediately.
She spun on her heels and smirked at him. "Then you'll just have to share, James."
Groaning, he shook his head.
Sam learned over and patted his arm. "It's alright," she told him, and her grin grew wider as his frown deepened. "Leave your bags here," she added.
"Have you adopted house elves, too?"
It was her turn to frown. "Does this look like Hogwarts?"
"I wouldn't know. Never been there myself," he replied, dropping the bags at the foot of the staircase.
"Shame."
"I see you haven't gotten any more tolerable," he commented. "How you must be driving your patients mad."
She put her hands on her hips, scowling. "My patients happen to like me, thank you very much!" She punched him in the shoulder.
Hard.
"Ow." He rubbed his shoulder. "Have you heard from -"
Rolling her eyes, Sam nodded her head once, cutting him off. "Lee called. He's going to be a few days late. Something about a case getting out of hand and having to put in overtime, and I think it really says something that all of your meaningful relationships are formed with workaholics, James."
"They are not," he replied, just for the sake of it. "You and Lee."
"What about Elizabeth?"
"Elizabeth?"
"Wasn't she your colleague?" From the look on her face, Sam was trying to remember the details.
He couldn't help but help her out. "Elizabeth was a student of mine, doing research into the history of seafaring-" He stopped. Paused. She was watching him with her arms crossed, and amusement twinkling in her bright blue eyes. "I'm friends with Methos. He's hardly what I'd call a workaholic."
"I really don't think he counts."
"Why not?"
"Because it's Methos," she told him, letting out a sigh.
This time it was James who rolled his eyes. "Now you're just being ridiculous."
She shrugged, motioning for him to follow. "I'm always ridiculous, James. I thought you knew that. Shall we continue the tour?"
"How about dinner?" he asked, thinking of the size of her home. It was already getting late and he hadn't had anything to eat since the flight over, and that really had not counted as food in his opinion. "And then we do a tour of the second floor."
She laughed, the sound soft and musical, just like he remembered. "Fine. But I'm not giving you any hints, either."
He raised an eyebrow. "I think I can figure it out on my own."
She smiled, and this time the humour was gone, but the warmth was not. Her hand brushed his cheek and her eyes reflected her true age. "I missed you, James," she told him. "I'm glad you're back."
And with that she spun around, and led the way to the kitchen.