Rating: R for violence & non-consensual sex.
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.
I Remember You Not Fondly ~ Part Seventeen
Lucien LaCroix gently undid her bonds, the ancient Roman vampire handling her like she was the most delicate porcelain. All the while, he murmured endearments in French and Latin until she was finally free. As he gathered her in his arms, she began to sob, her body heaving.
“So much blood,” he whispered.
Taking a shuddering breath, Triona willed herself to calm. She was safe now, and soon, Methos would be home. Everything would go back to as it was.
Managing a whisper, she warned, “Careful. Drugs. Don’t know what they’d do to you.”
“I know, child,” he replied softly. He then tapped at a communication device pinned to his tunic. Soon after, the whine of a transporter filled the air, followed by the presence of those Immortal.
The ancient Roman vampire lifted his child into strong safe arms. “All will be well now.” His voice, along with his mental reassurance, attempted to comfort her.
The door whooshed open, revealing the familiar form of Duncan MacLeod. The man took in the scene before him, only the tightening of his mouth revealing any sign of his anger. “Triona, sweetheart, it’ll be okay now, I promise you,” he told her gently.
Struggling against LaCroix’s hold, he relented, placing her on her feet, but still holding her close. Duncan snagged a blanket from the bed, covering her with it. “He has to live,” she told them. “It’s the only way for Methos to come home.” When neither man immediately replied, she insisted, “Promise me!”
The two men looked at each other, nodding. “It will be as you say,“ LaCroix finally replied. “And now, we need to get you cleaned up and medical attention.”
She shook her head. “No,” she said faintly. “No time. I need to set up the transfer.”
“All will be done,” her Master assured her. “T’Rayla is here, already going over your calculations.”
Triona pulled the blanket tighter around herself, drawing away from LaCroix. “Good.” T’Rayla, daughter of Spock, had been Triona’s ward as a child, but now the young Vulcan was a woman grown, a brilliant scientist in her own right. “He,” she jutted her chin at the still dead Methos, “needs to be restrained and in the brig. He’s very dangerous. You have to believe me!” Her voice rose in a near note of hysteria.
“Of course we believe you, Trie,” Duncan replied comfortingly. “I’ll take care of it, trust me. Just let Lucien take you out of this place. Please,” the last was said with a note of pleading.
Nodding sharply, she blinked. “Yes, all right.”
“Then it is settled. “ LaCroix took her elbow in a gentle hold. “Duncan will take care of matters here while you are seen to. Agreed?”
Suddenly, she sagged against him. “Yes…. Please take me away from him.” As she fainted, LaCroix scooped her up before she hit the ground.
A short while later, Triona stared at herself in the mirror of their cabin. This place was untainted by her tormentor. He hadn’t wanted to risk any weapons that she or Methos might have secreted throughout the room. He would have been right, she thought with no humour as she reached behind the headboard, her hand coming to rest on the wicked knife that was placed there. Pulling it out, she slipped it into her boot.
“He’ll revive soon,” she said into the dim confines of the room.
“And there is no reason for you to be there when he does,” LaCroix said from the chair he sat in across the room from her.
She turned to face him. Having bathed, with fresh clothes, her hair bound tightly on the top of her head, she presented a picture of absolute control and calm. But it was an image that was only surface deep. Sharply, she shook her head. “No! I need to see this through. If I don’t, then he wins.”
“That is not true,” he objected. “But we will do this your way – for now.”
Nodding, her eyes spoke her thanks. But what she said was, “I need to go to the lab. Find the drugs he used. Without a lever, he won’t cooperate when it comes down to it.”
LaCroix’s eyes spoke to exactly what he would do to make the other Methos cooperate, but he didn’t voice that promise. But, “Very well, my love,” was all he said as he followed her from the cabin.
In the small but well equipped lab of the Alqualondë, Triona found what she had been looking for -- the remainder of the drugs that the mirror universe Methos had used to such devastating effect. With these in his system, he would have no choice but to cooperate.
As she stared at the vials, she said, “I didn’t think Jacob would understand the message I’d given to Stephanie,” she admitted. “I’d given up.”
“It is understandable,” LaCroix told her quietly.
“Is it?” she clenched her fists. “I broke. In the end. I was weak.” The last was said with enough despair to wrench at her Master’s heart.
You know that is not so, mon amour,” LaCroix remonstrated. “You are immortal, not inhuman.”
Her laughter held a harsh edge. “Is that what you believe? I don’t think I remember what it’s like to be human.”
His hands came to rest on her shoulders. “You hold what is best of our humanity in your heart, le plus cher. As you have always done. Never doubt that.” He leaned down brushing her cheek with cool lips. “I do not.”
Triona turned, leaning into him. “You always are so certain, Lucien. Of me, of us; you have been certain from that first moment we met.”
“It was merely inevitable, my love.”
“I believe it was so.”
“And Methos? Will he accept that inevitability? What happened here may be more than he will be able to accept.”
“Do you trust him so little?” LaCroix asked with just a hint of censure.
She looked up at him, startled. “No, of course not, but—“
“But? No, my love; if you love Methos, then there are no buts. You owe him your trust as well, no?”
Being LaCroix, she knew he wouldn’t let her not answer his question. And that expectation oddly comforted her. He accepted everything she was, and always had, and he demanded the same from her -- for herself and for Methos. “Yes,” was all she said, but that one word was full of certainty.
Nodding, he kissed her forehead. “All will be well, child, I promise you.”
The long night was nearly over. T’Rayla had set up a forceshield over the alien device, and all that remained was the appearance of the other Methos to initiate the transfer.
He had revived an hour before and had quickly been injected with the drugs he’d used on Triona, and had been unable to fight the effects any more than she had. But it was a bitter victory for her as she watched from a security monitor in her cabin. Neither LaCroix nor Duncan would permit her to be anywhere near her former captor, and with those same drugs still in her system, she hadn’t put up much of a fight at their decision. How much of her acquiescence was the drugs, and how much was her, she wasn’t sure.
So instead, she sat; watching him, needing the reassurance of seeing him locked up and neutralized to feel safe. Then he looked straight up at the camera in his cell, with a smile so self-satisfied it was all Triona could do not to smash her fist into the screen. “Don’t pine for me, little one. We’ll meet again, you and I, I promise you.” Then he laughed, and the sound made every hair on her body stand on end. “And you know I always keep my promises.” The screen went dark.
A few minutes later, Duncan arrived, to find her sitting frozen, staring at the dark screen. “Don’t, Trie, don’t!” He wrapped his arms around her. “He’s toying with you. He can’t come back, you know that.”
“Do I?” she whispered, her eyes still fixed on the black square in front of her.
He sighed, turning her chair around to face him. “Thinking that is what he wants, sweetheart. He wants, he needs, to have a lasting power over you. You can’t let him. In a little while, Methos will be back, and he’ll be gone.”
“And what if Methos doesn’t come back?” she asked in a choked sob. “We don’t know he will, or if he’s even still alive!” All her fear and grief welled up in an undeniable wave, and Duncan drew his sobbing friend into his arms, rocking her like she was a child.
“It’s going to be okay,” he repeated over and over.
Against his chest, Triona shook her head, whispering, “I don’t think it’s ever going to be okay again.”
It was time. Triona stood with LaCroix and Duncan outside the ring of the forceshield as Imladrin security forces placed their prisoner before the alien artifact. The team withdrew, and T’Rayla initiated the forcefield. The false Methos didn’t even seem to care at this point. He looked up at Triona with a lazy smile and then placed his hands in the same place Methos had mere days before.
It happened so fast, Triona wasn’t even sure the transfer had taken place, but then the familiar mental warmth of her husband suffused her consciousness. The overwhelming emotions nearly drove her to her knees, only Duncan and LaCroix holding her arms keeping her from falling to the ground.
Then he was running across the short expanse that separated them, lifting her into his arms and spinning her around until she was breathless. Methos sat her back onto her feet, looking into her eyes with a warmth and love that infused her with hope and joy. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you more,” she replied with a tremulous smile. Then she was kissing him, and for a moment there was no fear, no pain, no doubt. Methos was home.