Notes: A story in the Bloodties series, set in the Star Trek future/time line, but no ST characters, just the 'Mirror, Mirror' concept.
Characters: Methos, Duncan MacLeod, MirrorMethos, Kronos, Silas, Lucien LaCroix, Original Characters
Summary: When Methos' past becomes part of the present, the consequences could be deadly for those close to him.
If you're new to the series, you can find an overview here.
Greedily, Triona sucked air into her lungs. Hazily she recalled an explosion, hitting the cliff face, then nothing. Must have killed me, she thought absently. Then memory and pain came rushing back. Methos. The device. The energy wave. Groaning, she tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t work. Then the emptiness crashed over her; her blood bond with Methos was gone, and the shock of that realization competed with the pain that throbbed across every nerve in her body. Where was he? She reached out with her mind, but she couldn’t feel even a trace of his presence. No, there had to be an explanation! He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead.
All the ways an Immortal could permanently die in the 24th century flew across her thoughts, and the fear began to turn into panic. She was breathing too fast, her heart pummeling at her chest, the sound of it deafening to her own ears. Think, think, she ordered herself, striving for calm. The alien device had reactivated, but she hadn’t been burned. So the explosion had been some sort of energy pulse; not anything that would have disintegrated human flesh. Methos would have survived, just like she had. The answer was there; she just had to heal enough to find it.
Finally, feeling had begun to come back to her legs in agonizing pulses, and she thought that just maybe, this time, she could get to her feet. Rolling over, she sat up, pushing back the dizziness and nausea that washed over her. You can do this, she told herself sternly. He needs you! One breath, then another, as she felt her body healing and along with it, control of her fear. A control that was shattered as the presence of another Immortal jangled across her senses. Was that why Methos had disappeared from her mental perception? No, no, no! Old nightmares threatened to overwhelm her and she fought back the dark memories they brought.
Without conscious thought, she reached for the phaser on her belt, crying in frustration as her fingers refused to cooperate. Then she heard footsteps in the gravel behind. She waited for the words she knew must come: “There can be only one”. But there was only silence and a sharp pain that exploded against the back of her skull. Once more, she was dragged into the cold embrace of unconsciousness.
Consciousness drifted back slowly, like rain sliding down glass. No death this time, no straining for breath to feed starved lungs as memory and feeling scattered across perception before coalescing into something you could hold onto. Something to pull you from the darkness of death’s greedy grasp. Bits of memory, like raindrops, fell with no order, her brain struggling to make sense of them all.
Triona was still alone. That memory was uppermost. Methos was gone. Where, she didn’t know, but finding him overrode all other concerns. She moved a little closer to full awareness; on her side, gravel pressing into her face, her head throbbing as if a thousand hammers battered against her skull. At the edge of the part of her that was vampire, she could feel the sun’s approach. Not dawn yet, but soon. So no more than a few hours had passed since the alien device had roared back to life.
Then, the presence of another Immortal assaulting her senses pulled the droplets of memory into a tidal wave that slammed into her, leaving her momentarily stunned. Struggling to sit up, she realized she was bound hand and foot, the ropes around her wrists and arms pulling her shoulders back painfully. Then rough hands were grabbing her arms, pulling her up, and she cried out despite herself at the pain.
“So, Sleeping Beauty finally wakes,” a voice she would know anywhere said. A hand pushed her long hair from her eyes and she focused on the face of the man that crouched in front of her. Cold fingers of shock crawled up her spine. One hand slid around, tangling her hair into his fist, pulling sharply to force her head up to meet his eyes. “Where have you brought me to, witch?” Methos demanded.
“What the hell was that?” Methos muttered as his throat and stomach disentangled. He’d placed his hands on the artifact, surprised to feel warmth seeping up through the metal. Then he’d heard Triona scream his name. At the same moment, he felt like he’d hit the atmosphere without the anti-gravity field on. There had been a sensation of sound and pressure, then absolute silence.
Pulling his hands away, he took a deep breath. Okay, maybe he would be groveling for the next several centuries. The silence slowly slipped away, replaced with the ambient noise of the planet. That was when he realized that she was gone. The place in his subconscious where the blood link with his wife dwelt was empty, echoing in its barrenness. Even when Triona had suffered her breakdown, still she had been there, no matter how tenuous the connection. The suddenness of it all hit him hard, leaving him breathless. He brutally pushed away the little voice that told him she was dead. That it was his fault. His hidden fear that one day, he’d be responsible for her death, scratched at him like so many thorns.
The presence of another Immortal washed over him, and he all but froze, only his hand slipping to the dagger at his belt breaking his stance. But fate wasn’t done hurling the unexpected into his path. The voice he heard behind him was one he’d consigned to nightmares centuries ago.
“It seems you were right, my love. Methos did get the translation wrong!” the voice said jovially. “Tell me, brother, how do you deal with finally being wrong? What a blow to your ego it must be!”
Those words were followed by decidedly unpleasant feminine laughter that ran across his nerves like nails down a chalkboard.
“I told you he was wrong!” a female voice -- her voice -- said angrily. “But did you listen? No, of course not! The all knowing Methos couldn’t possibly be wrong!” Venom dripped from every word, centuries of hate soaking every syllable.
“Come, Triona, calm yourself. We are all family here. We can forgive mistakes, can we not?” The last held a note of warning.
A warning she seemed to take to heart, as she replied in a tight voice, “Yes, of course, Kronos. I’m sorry.”
“There, you see? I’m sure Methos can forgive your ill temper in this case. Methos?”
Methos steeled himself for what could not be avoided any longer. Turning slowly, he took a deep calming breath. Then he said, “I was more wrong than you can possibly imagine.”
Part Seventeen ][ Part Eighteen ][ Part Nineteen ][ Part Twenty