fic: Wotan's Day 17/16
Title: Wotan's Day
Fandoms: Highlander, X-files, Invisible Man
Rating:NC-17 overall, PG-13 this chapter.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. All money went to RAINN.
Background:The year is 2023. Methos, the oldest of the Immortals in Highlander, was living as a corporate lawyer in Denver. Alexander Krycek, the double-dealing ratboy of the X-Files, was living there as an art dealer, running a gallery in Aurora, Colorado. Mulder was retired, somewhere suburban.
Summary: The end.
Chapter 1
(Chapters link sequentially from there.)
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
It is not written in the stars that I will always understand what is going on--a truism that I often find damnably annoying.
Friday
We were surrounded by a ring of Watchers three deep when we recovered. They moved when we got to our feet, making a path that led to the road and a parked car. There were two figures in it. Agent Johnson got out of the passenger side. "Are you all right?" MacLeod asked her as I felt the same words rise in my own throat.
She nodded, but looked over to where Skinner had been sitting. Again, the wall of Watchers parted, and we could see the damage. The husk of a burnt body occupied the folding chair, which was barely recognizable as such. Of the soldiers, there was little but smoke and twisted weapons. I'd never seen a Quickening do anything like that, but there had never been a Quickening like what we experienced.
We looked at each other, MacLeod and I, then at the Watchers who stood around us and who moved beyond this burnt clearing stamping out the remaining fires. We walked over to the car, and Johnson moved to meet us.
Before we could ask, she said, "That's Dana Scully-Mulder."
"His wife." It was not clear to me whether MacLeod or I spoke. It didn't matter.
Johnson nodded.
"She shot me," I said.
"You had just beheaded her husband." MacLeod sighed with the exhaustion that I, too, felt.
"You took his Quickening?" I asked him.
He nodded. "I can't feel it now."
"I'm sure." Each Quickening had a personality, quirks and side-effects before it fully settled. There was nothing. The aggregate of so many all at once smoothed out the usual edges, and Mulder must have been buried under all of that. I found myself possessed of a melancholy I could not explain. Then I looked at MacLeod again. It was his sentiment that I felt.
This was more than Bordeaux, and not just by a factor of three hundred and fifty.
"We have to separate," I said.
"What are you going to tell her?" MacLeod asked Johnson, ignoring what he must know I was feeling.
"The truth. She deserves that."
"You made it to the car?"
"It insulated us."
"Will it still run?"
"I don't know. Probably not. There are enough Watchers here and vehicles that we can help you three out of the swamp. Unless you'd like to wrestle another alligator, Methos?" she teased.
MacLeod and I both started at her humor, and then I could not help but smile as he said, "Joe warned me about you."
"Laugh in the face of death. That's my motto."
"Really?"
"No. Just today." She returned to her usual apparent calm, but now I could see what was underneath. I chalked not getting to know Eryna Johnson better as another regret in my very long tally sheet.
"Tell Mrs. Mulder that he died well," I said. "That in the end, he sacrificed himself to stop this."
Johnson nodded. "I don't know what to tell her about Skinner."
"You said she deserved the truth."
"He's the biological father of her children."
"Oh," said MacLeod.
"He thought he was doing the right thing," I said. "Most people do. You can tell her that."
We were interrupted by a noise and a small wave of people, through which broke Bobby Hobbes.
"Well, Mr. Bierce, I think that went as well as could be expected. Your Watcher friends could do with a little training, but they hacked through every neck we could find. Looked like all Hell broke loose over here."
"It did," I said. "Mr. Hobbes, meet Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod, and Agent Eryna Johnson of the DCI. Eryna was Jim Gantt's partner."
"I'm sorry," Hobbes said, straightening. "I know what it's like to lose a partner."
"And we honor yours this night," I said. "Thank you for sharing his last gift."
MacLeod looked confused for all of a second, and then understood, as if he took the meaning from my mind. This was too like telepathy, and I had to get away from him. I hoped it would stop with distance and time.
"I have to go. Now. Please have someone take me out of here."
"Do you want to go to Miami or Fort Myers?" Johnson asked.
"Miami." It was bigger, and I would have more chances to lose myself.
We said our goodbyes then. I gave Betty's number to Mr. Hobbes and made him promise to call. I had arranged with her to pay him a handsome sum. I also thought they might amuse each other.
As I walked, led by one of the Watchers to where the cars were hidden, Mulder's wife ran up to me.
"You killed my husband! You cannot just walk away."
"I believe you exacted revenge with a fatal bullet wound to the heart," I said. "And I've lost a husband, thanks to yours. On balance, I think we're even."
"But you're not dead." I knew the hurt and pain in her eyes. I had seen it thousands of times. This time, I did not kill the complaining wife as well.
"You're wrong," I told her, "I am dead."
And with that I turned, wiping the sweat and the makeup with the tail of my shirt, and walked away into the fitting mist that had begun to rise from the swamp--a cinematic close to a life I would remember as good.
Tomorrow I would be someone else.
Fin.
Fandoms: Highlander, X-files, Invisible Man
Rating:NC-17 overall, PG-13 this chapter.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. All money went to RAINN.
Background:The year is 2023. Methos, the oldest of the Immortals in Highlander, was living as a corporate lawyer in Denver. Alexander Krycek, the double-dealing ratboy of the X-Files, was living there as an art dealer, running a gallery in Aurora, Colorado. Mulder was retired, somewhere suburban.
Summary: The end.
Chapter 1
(Chapters link sequentially from there.)
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
It is not written in the stars that I will always understand what is going on--a truism that I often find damnably annoying.
Friday
We were surrounded by a ring of Watchers three deep when we recovered. They moved when we got to our feet, making a path that led to the road and a parked car. There were two figures in it. Agent Johnson got out of the passenger side. "Are you all right?" MacLeod asked her as I felt the same words rise in my own throat.
She nodded, but looked over to where Skinner had been sitting. Again, the wall of Watchers parted, and we could see the damage. The husk of a burnt body occupied the folding chair, which was barely recognizable as such. Of the soldiers, there was little but smoke and twisted weapons. I'd never seen a Quickening do anything like that, but there had never been a Quickening like what we experienced.
We looked at each other, MacLeod and I, then at the Watchers who stood around us and who moved beyond this burnt clearing stamping out the remaining fires. We walked over to the car, and Johnson moved to meet us.
Before we could ask, she said, "That's Dana Scully-Mulder."
"His wife." It was not clear to me whether MacLeod or I spoke. It didn't matter.
Johnson nodded.
"She shot me," I said.
"You had just beheaded her husband." MacLeod sighed with the exhaustion that I, too, felt.
"You took his Quickening?" I asked him.
He nodded. "I can't feel it now."
"I'm sure." Each Quickening had a personality, quirks and side-effects before it fully settled. There was nothing. The aggregate of so many all at once smoothed out the usual edges, and Mulder must have been buried under all of that. I found myself possessed of a melancholy I could not explain. Then I looked at MacLeod again. It was his sentiment that I felt.
This was more than Bordeaux, and not just by a factor of three hundred and fifty.
"We have to separate," I said.
"What are you going to tell her?" MacLeod asked Johnson, ignoring what he must know I was feeling.
"The truth. She deserves that."
"You made it to the car?"
"It insulated us."
"Will it still run?"
"I don't know. Probably not. There are enough Watchers here and vehicles that we can help you three out of the swamp. Unless you'd like to wrestle another alligator, Methos?" she teased.
MacLeod and I both started at her humor, and then I could not help but smile as he said, "Joe warned me about you."
"Laugh in the face of death. That's my motto."
"Really?"
"No. Just today." She returned to her usual apparent calm, but now I could see what was underneath. I chalked not getting to know Eryna Johnson better as another regret in my very long tally sheet.
"Tell Mrs. Mulder that he died well," I said. "That in the end, he sacrificed himself to stop this."
Johnson nodded. "I don't know what to tell her about Skinner."
"You said she deserved the truth."
"He's the biological father of her children."
"Oh," said MacLeod.
"He thought he was doing the right thing," I said. "Most people do. You can tell her that."
We were interrupted by a noise and a small wave of people, through which broke Bobby Hobbes.
"Well, Mr. Bierce, I think that went as well as could be expected. Your Watcher friends could do with a little training, but they hacked through every neck we could find. Looked like all Hell broke loose over here."
"It did," I said. "Mr. Hobbes, meet Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod, and Agent Eryna Johnson of the DCI. Eryna was Jim Gantt's partner."
"I'm sorry," Hobbes said, straightening. "I know what it's like to lose a partner."
"And we honor yours this night," I said. "Thank you for sharing his last gift."
MacLeod looked confused for all of a second, and then understood, as if he took the meaning from my mind. This was too like telepathy, and I had to get away from him. I hoped it would stop with distance and time.
"I have to go. Now. Please have someone take me out of here."
"Do you want to go to Miami or Fort Myers?" Johnson asked.
"Miami." It was bigger, and I would have more chances to lose myself.
We said our goodbyes then. I gave Betty's number to Mr. Hobbes and made him promise to call. I had arranged with her to pay him a handsome sum. I also thought they might amuse each other.
As I walked, led by one of the Watchers to where the cars were hidden, Mulder's wife ran up to me.
"You killed my husband! You cannot just walk away."
"I believe you exacted revenge with a fatal bullet wound to the heart," I said. "And I've lost a husband, thanks to yours. On balance, I think we're even."
"But you're not dead." I knew the hurt and pain in her eyes. I had seen it thousands of times. This time, I did not kill the complaining wife as well.
"You're wrong," I told her, "I am dead."
And with that I turned, wiping the sweat and the makeup with the tail of my shirt, and walked away into the fitting mist that had begun to rise from the swamp--a cinematic close to a life I would remember as good.
Tomorrow I would be someone else.
Fin.