'I Remember You Not Fondly' (09/20)
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.
The next part of the story, finally done. I'll freely admit that this is way outside my comfort zone, so it took a bit longer to write than it normally would. The next part will hopefully follow a little bit quicker! Thanks for your patience and for reading.
_____________________
I Remember You Not Fondly ~ Part Nine
Triona sobbed under the nearly scalding water of the shower. Everything that had happened in the hours since Methos had accidentally activated the alien device overwhelming her in a wave of terror and grief. And what was past mixed with the fear of what lay ahead. She knew that the outcome was inevitable, and part of her just wanted it over with. Of course, her captor knew that too. That was the reason for the mind games, for drawing out the dread, the nauseating anticipation, for as long as possible.
Pounding her fist into the shower wall, she took a deep breath. She had survived Divia, she had survived Hakeem, and she had survived WWIII. She could survive this. Not just could, but had to. To get Methos back home. Triona let the steaming water wash over her for a few minutes more before resolutely turning off the water, letting the sonic jets dry her skin and hair. Reaching into the cleaning compartment, she pulled out the clothing she’d placed there before getting in the shower, quickly dressing. Then she braided her long blonde hair into a tight plait that fell down past her shoulders.
Walking back into the empty cabin, she saw two things had been left for her. As much as she hated accepting anything from her captor, she knew she needed to eat, and quickly downed the chicken sandwich and fruit that had been placed on the table. As she ate she considered the second thing; the scarlet dress of Aldebaran silk that had been laid across the chair he’d sat in. ‘He’ that’s how she thought of him. He wasn’t ‘Methos’; he could never be Methos to her, ever.
The dress was another twist of the knife. He couldn’t have possibly known that it was her husband’s favourite. And yet, he’d unerringly picked it out from amongst all the clothing in her closet. Then she reconsidered. Maybe he did know. Maybe that was in Methos’ damn journals as well. When this was over, she was going to learn ancient bloody Greek if it was the last thing she did!
Picking up the dress, Triona considered her options such as they were. This was not a request, that she knew, but every fiber of her rebelled at the thought of submitting to this voiceless command. Unconsciously, she twisted her wedding ring around her finger, trying to decide what to do. Defying him wouldn’t gain her anything in the end. Methos would tell her to submit, bide her time, do whatever she had to to survive and wait for her opportunity to prevail. Decision made, she quickly stripped off her tunic and slacks, putting on the delicately wrought silk dress. Then she sat in the chair and waited.
Nearly an hour passed before he made an appearance. He gave her a cursory glance upon entering, but he seemed to have other things on his mind. “There’s an incoming transmission for you,” he told her. “You’re going to take it in the lounge. And you’re going to behave yourself. No secret signals to your people.”
She leveled a cool, emotionless gaze on him. “Because of course, I had the forethought to arrange a ‘help me, the evil double of my husband has taken me captive’ signal.”
There was an explosive snort of laughter in response. “You do have spirit, considering. I have to give you that.” He held out the security restraints, motioning her to stand and turn around. “You may be entertaining,” he said into her ear, “but I don’t think we need to take any chances, do you?” The cuffs snapped around her wrists, and then he turned her, leading her from the room.
They walked down the corridor, Triona doing her best to ignore the feeling of his hand, warm against her waist, marshaling her revulsion, remembering what was at stake. Then they were entering the lounge and he was pushing her down into the chair in front of the comm unit.
“You’re a smart girl, so don’t do anything stupid,” he warned as he toggled on the screen. Triona only had a few moments to gather herself before the image of her cousin Stephanie materialized on the screen in front of her.
“Trie!” the pretty dark-haired vampire greeted her. “How goes the great archeological adventure? Ready to kill Methos yet?”
“It’s going about like you’d expect. Methos found another artifact and is off exploring a cave system that he thinks might yield the final clue,” she lied glibly.
“You’re a saint, Trie, really you are. I couldn’t spend that much time on a dead planet with only Methos for company. But you always were a soft touch, so…” Stephanie grinned impishly to take the sting from her words.
“You would know,” Triona observed dryly, and her cousin had the good grace to look at least a little abashed. “But Methos’ newest research tangent means we’re going to be here a bit longer than we planned. I’m going to have to get Jacob to rearrange my schedule. Can you ask him to reschedule my visit to Romulas? Send Legate Trayvan my apologies and see if he’s amenable to meeting at a later date? Have Jacob tell him that I need to deal with family matters. He’ll understand.”
“Sure thing, Trie.” She tapped into the data console in front of her. “Before you go, I have a message from Lucia.”
Triona’s heart contracted a little. Her daughter, Lucia, was in her first year at Starfleet Academy, and she wondered if she would ever see her child again. She carefully steadied her voice and her breathing before replying, “Oh?”
“First, she sends her love to you and to Methos. But she wanted to know if you’d be mad if she spent her winter break on Andoria with her roommate, Tren, instead of coming home? Tren’s family has invited her and she really wants to go.”
“Like she thought I’d say no?” Triona laughed hollowly. It was a good thing her only child didn’t seem to need her anymore, because chances were good she wouldn’t be alive by the time her daughter’s winter break was done. “Of course it’s fine. Tell her for me, would you? And tell her I love her?”
“Will do, Trie. I’ll see you when you get home,” she said brightly. “IPU Command out.”
Stephanie’s image faded from the screen, and Triona fought back the crushing hopelessness that seemed to settle over her in a suffocating blanket.
His mocking voice intruded on her thoughts. “Tsk, tsk! Your daughter doesn’t want to spend her first break after leaving home with her mother? How very sad.” He stroked her cheek with a finger. “What did you do to drive her away? Too demanding? Never happy with her no matter what she did? A disappointment to you and your impossible standards?”
Triona wanted to scream at him, but with every ounce of self-control left to her, she choked back her angry response. She would not give him the satisfaction.
Chuckling, he sat on the edge of console next to her chair. “You don’t fool me, little one. I know that there’s a passionate woman beneath that façade of control. The question is, just what will it take to tap that passion?” Then his hands started to move over her hair, undoing the braid it was held in. “The Triona in my reality doesn’t have your hair. She keeps it cropped short, shorter than mine. It’s unattractive, not a woman’s hair at all. But yours… your hair is what a woman’s should be,” he said softly as he ran his fingers through the tresses, separating them from the constraining plait. “You must be beautiful in bed, with your hair falling over you like a cloak.”
The memory of Methos saying that to her just about broke her. The evening they’d gone to the alien device, he’d brushed out her hair, gathering it up in his hands, telling her how beautiful she looked wearing nothing else. It had only been the day before, and yet, it seemed like an eternity. The thought of a life without him tore at her soul.
He spread her hair across her shoulders. "That's better." Leaning in, he ran his hands down her bare arms to undo the restraints that bound her wrists behind her back. "I don't think we need these right now, do you? Oh, I suppose you could try something stupid, but you know if you fail you'll end up back in the sun." One hand cupped her jaw as he whispered into her ear, "Not a heartening prospect, is it?"
She took a ragged breath, closing her eyes, trying not to remember what had happened only hours before. Not remember her own screams as her skin burned, not remember the scent of her flesh as it charred in the sun and the seemingly endless agony.
Laughing softly, his lips still at her ear, he said, "Yes, I think you're going to behave from now on, aren't you, Triona?" Then the lips moved along the line of her jaw, finally reaching her mouth.
He was right, and she hated herself for it. But the horror of the burning was too fresh. She didn't fight him as he kissed her. She didn't do anything at all. Not that fighting him would make any difference to the inevitable end. The only thing she had any control over were her own reactions, so she reached deep within herself, utilizing every ounce of the Vulcan mental disciplines she had learned over the last two centuries. It was her very last defense against the man that held her captive.
Then his hands dropped to her waist, undoing the sash on her dress, slipping in to stroke the skin beneath, moving up to fondle her breasts. "What? No pleas for mercy? No begging me to spare you from a fate worse than death?" His amusement was palpable. "I truly thought you'd be more entertaining. How very disappointing."
"What difference does it make?" she ground out. "Nothing I say is going matter in the end!"
He drew back. "Maybe I want you to beg." Now he loomed over her, hands now grasping her thighs. "Maybe I want you to act like a human woman, not a Vulcan."
"And maybe I just want you to get it over with so I can get back to figuring out how to send you home!" This time she did shout. She was human, and no amount of mental discipline could stop her furious outburst in the end.
“That’s more like it, little one.“ He straightened, toying with a strand of her hair. And then he asked a question she never anticipated, “And just what makes you think I want to go back?”
Her heart stopped at his words. It had never occurred to her that he might not want to go back to his universe. This had to be a ploy, another mind game. It had to be! She shook her head mutely, numb with shock.
"I rather like the idea of playing the wolf to the sheep in your reality,” he explained. “There's much to benefit a man such as myself here." Then a cruel smile settled on his lips. "And no one will ever be the wiser. The grieving widower, my beloved wife killed in an accident with the alien device; so very, very sad. No one will question my need to start afresh someplace else, somewhere not littered with painful reminders of you."
A thumb gently wiped away the tear the slipped down her face. "No need for tears now -- I may decide to let you live, you know. You can stay here, out of harm's way, and I'll come back for you... eventually." Settling in the chair across from her, he sprawled out, watching her intently. "Ahhh... but the tears aren't for yourself, are they? They're for him.” His voice took on a cold bite that traveled to his eyes, and she shivered despite herself. “Believe me when I tell you that you're ten kinds of a fool if you don't save those tears for yourself, Triona."
She wished she could hide from his scrutiny; she felt exposed and vulnerable and terrified. The lounge had become increasingly claustrophobic and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. It was like living a nightmare, one she couldn't wake up from. "You can't want to stay here," she whispered. Then louder, "This isn't your universe!"
"Perhaps. I haven't made a final decision yet." His eyes traveled her body, like a tiger stalking his prey. "Which brings us back to you. Tell me, just what are you willing to do to get him back, my lovely Triona?”
She didn’t reply, staring off into some place only she could see.
“Answer me!” he commanded.
Triona knew he already had the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it. “Anything,” she said tonelessly.
“Come here.” Those two words fell into the silence of the room. No longer amused, no longer angry. He didn’t need to be any of those anymore. Now he knew he’d won.
Triona obeyed. There were no options left.
Reaching up, he wound her hair around his fist, using it as a lever to pull her down to kneel before him. “And what do you think, having done whatever it took to get him back, he’ll feel when he looks at you? Do you suppose he will ever be able to touch you again without remembering what happened here?” The hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back sharply, his eyes capturing hers. “I will always be with you, Triona.”
Part One ][ Part Two ][ Part Three ][ Part Four ][ Part Five ][ Part Six ][ Part Seven ][ Part Eight ][ Part Nine ][ Part Ten ][ Part Eleven ][ Part Twelve ][ Part Thirteen ][ Part Fourteen ][ Part Fifteen ][ Part Sixteen ][
Part Seventeen ][ Part Eighteen ][ Part Nineteen ][ Part Twenty
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.
The next part of the story, finally done. I'll freely admit that this is way outside my comfort zone, so it took a bit longer to write than it normally would. The next part will hopefully follow a little bit quicker! Thanks for your patience and for reading.
_____________________
I Remember You Not Fondly ~ Part Nine
Triona sobbed under the nearly scalding water of the shower. Everything that had happened in the hours since Methos had accidentally activated the alien device overwhelming her in a wave of terror and grief. And what was past mixed with the fear of what lay ahead. She knew that the outcome was inevitable, and part of her just wanted it over with. Of course, her captor knew that too. That was the reason for the mind games, for drawing out the dread, the nauseating anticipation, for as long as possible.
Pounding her fist into the shower wall, she took a deep breath. She had survived Divia, she had survived Hakeem, and she had survived WWIII. She could survive this. Not just could, but had to. To get Methos back home. Triona let the steaming water wash over her for a few minutes more before resolutely turning off the water, letting the sonic jets dry her skin and hair. Reaching into the cleaning compartment, she pulled out the clothing she’d placed there before getting in the shower, quickly dressing. Then she braided her long blonde hair into a tight plait that fell down past her shoulders.
Walking back into the empty cabin, she saw two things had been left for her. As much as she hated accepting anything from her captor, she knew she needed to eat, and quickly downed the chicken sandwich and fruit that had been placed on the table. As she ate she considered the second thing; the scarlet dress of Aldebaran silk that had been laid across the chair he’d sat in. ‘He’ that’s how she thought of him. He wasn’t ‘Methos’; he could never be Methos to her, ever.
The dress was another twist of the knife. He couldn’t have possibly known that it was her husband’s favourite. And yet, he’d unerringly picked it out from amongst all the clothing in her closet. Then she reconsidered. Maybe he did know. Maybe that was in Methos’ damn journals as well. When this was over, she was going to learn ancient bloody Greek if it was the last thing she did!
Picking up the dress, Triona considered her options such as they were. This was not a request, that she knew, but every fiber of her rebelled at the thought of submitting to this voiceless command. Unconsciously, she twisted her wedding ring around her finger, trying to decide what to do. Defying him wouldn’t gain her anything in the end. Methos would tell her to submit, bide her time, do whatever she had to to survive and wait for her opportunity to prevail. Decision made, she quickly stripped off her tunic and slacks, putting on the delicately wrought silk dress. Then she sat in the chair and waited.
Nearly an hour passed before he made an appearance. He gave her a cursory glance upon entering, but he seemed to have other things on his mind. “There’s an incoming transmission for you,” he told her. “You’re going to take it in the lounge. And you’re going to behave yourself. No secret signals to your people.”
She leveled a cool, emotionless gaze on him. “Because of course, I had the forethought to arrange a ‘help me, the evil double of my husband has taken me captive’ signal.”
There was an explosive snort of laughter in response. “You do have spirit, considering. I have to give you that.” He held out the security restraints, motioning her to stand and turn around. “You may be entertaining,” he said into her ear, “but I don’t think we need to take any chances, do you?” The cuffs snapped around her wrists, and then he turned her, leading her from the room.
They walked down the corridor, Triona doing her best to ignore the feeling of his hand, warm against her waist, marshaling her revulsion, remembering what was at stake. Then they were entering the lounge and he was pushing her down into the chair in front of the comm unit.
“You’re a smart girl, so don’t do anything stupid,” he warned as he toggled on the screen. Triona only had a few moments to gather herself before the image of her cousin Stephanie materialized on the screen in front of her.
“Trie!” the pretty dark-haired vampire greeted her. “How goes the great archeological adventure? Ready to kill Methos yet?”
“It’s going about like you’d expect. Methos found another artifact and is off exploring a cave system that he thinks might yield the final clue,” she lied glibly.
“You’re a saint, Trie, really you are. I couldn’t spend that much time on a dead planet with only Methos for company. But you always were a soft touch, so…” Stephanie grinned impishly to take the sting from her words.
“You would know,” Triona observed dryly, and her cousin had the good grace to look at least a little abashed. “But Methos’ newest research tangent means we’re going to be here a bit longer than we planned. I’m going to have to get Jacob to rearrange my schedule. Can you ask him to reschedule my visit to Romulas? Send Legate Trayvan my apologies and see if he’s amenable to meeting at a later date? Have Jacob tell him that I need to deal with family matters. He’ll understand.”
“Sure thing, Trie.” She tapped into the data console in front of her. “Before you go, I have a message from Lucia.”
Triona’s heart contracted a little. Her daughter, Lucia, was in her first year at Starfleet Academy, and she wondered if she would ever see her child again. She carefully steadied her voice and her breathing before replying, “Oh?”
“First, she sends her love to you and to Methos. But she wanted to know if you’d be mad if she spent her winter break on Andoria with her roommate, Tren, instead of coming home? Tren’s family has invited her and she really wants to go.”
“Like she thought I’d say no?” Triona laughed hollowly. It was a good thing her only child didn’t seem to need her anymore, because chances were good she wouldn’t be alive by the time her daughter’s winter break was done. “Of course it’s fine. Tell her for me, would you? And tell her I love her?”
“Will do, Trie. I’ll see you when you get home,” she said brightly. “IPU Command out.”
Stephanie’s image faded from the screen, and Triona fought back the crushing hopelessness that seemed to settle over her in a suffocating blanket.
His mocking voice intruded on her thoughts. “Tsk, tsk! Your daughter doesn’t want to spend her first break after leaving home with her mother? How very sad.” He stroked her cheek with a finger. “What did you do to drive her away? Too demanding? Never happy with her no matter what she did? A disappointment to you and your impossible standards?”
Triona wanted to scream at him, but with every ounce of self-control left to her, she choked back her angry response. She would not give him the satisfaction.
Chuckling, he sat on the edge of console next to her chair. “You don’t fool me, little one. I know that there’s a passionate woman beneath that façade of control. The question is, just what will it take to tap that passion?” Then his hands started to move over her hair, undoing the braid it was held in. “The Triona in my reality doesn’t have your hair. She keeps it cropped short, shorter than mine. It’s unattractive, not a woman’s hair at all. But yours… your hair is what a woman’s should be,” he said softly as he ran his fingers through the tresses, separating them from the constraining plait. “You must be beautiful in bed, with your hair falling over you like a cloak.”
The memory of Methos saying that to her just about broke her. The evening they’d gone to the alien device, he’d brushed out her hair, gathering it up in his hands, telling her how beautiful she looked wearing nothing else. It had only been the day before, and yet, it seemed like an eternity. The thought of a life without him tore at her soul.
He spread her hair across her shoulders. "That's better." Leaning in, he ran his hands down her bare arms to undo the restraints that bound her wrists behind her back. "I don't think we need these right now, do you? Oh, I suppose you could try something stupid, but you know if you fail you'll end up back in the sun." One hand cupped her jaw as he whispered into her ear, "Not a heartening prospect, is it?"
She took a ragged breath, closing her eyes, trying not to remember what had happened only hours before. Not remember her own screams as her skin burned, not remember the scent of her flesh as it charred in the sun and the seemingly endless agony.
Laughing softly, his lips still at her ear, he said, "Yes, I think you're going to behave from now on, aren't you, Triona?" Then the lips moved along the line of her jaw, finally reaching her mouth.
He was right, and she hated herself for it. But the horror of the burning was too fresh. She didn't fight him as he kissed her. She didn't do anything at all. Not that fighting him would make any difference to the inevitable end. The only thing she had any control over were her own reactions, so she reached deep within herself, utilizing every ounce of the Vulcan mental disciplines she had learned over the last two centuries. It was her very last defense against the man that held her captive.
Then his hands dropped to her waist, undoing the sash on her dress, slipping in to stroke the skin beneath, moving up to fondle her breasts. "What? No pleas for mercy? No begging me to spare you from a fate worse than death?" His amusement was palpable. "I truly thought you'd be more entertaining. How very disappointing."
"What difference does it make?" she ground out. "Nothing I say is going matter in the end!"
He drew back. "Maybe I want you to beg." Now he loomed over her, hands now grasping her thighs. "Maybe I want you to act like a human woman, not a Vulcan."
"And maybe I just want you to get it over with so I can get back to figuring out how to send you home!" This time she did shout. She was human, and no amount of mental discipline could stop her furious outburst in the end.
“That’s more like it, little one.“ He straightened, toying with a strand of her hair. And then he asked a question she never anticipated, “And just what makes you think I want to go back?”
Her heart stopped at his words. It had never occurred to her that he might not want to go back to his universe. This had to be a ploy, another mind game. It had to be! She shook her head mutely, numb with shock.
"I rather like the idea of playing the wolf to the sheep in your reality,” he explained. “There's much to benefit a man such as myself here." Then a cruel smile settled on his lips. "And no one will ever be the wiser. The grieving widower, my beloved wife killed in an accident with the alien device; so very, very sad. No one will question my need to start afresh someplace else, somewhere not littered with painful reminders of you."
A thumb gently wiped away the tear the slipped down her face. "No need for tears now -- I may decide to let you live, you know. You can stay here, out of harm's way, and I'll come back for you... eventually." Settling in the chair across from her, he sprawled out, watching her intently. "Ahhh... but the tears aren't for yourself, are they? They're for him.” His voice took on a cold bite that traveled to his eyes, and she shivered despite herself. “Believe me when I tell you that you're ten kinds of a fool if you don't save those tears for yourself, Triona."
She wished she could hide from his scrutiny; she felt exposed and vulnerable and terrified. The lounge had become increasingly claustrophobic and she felt as if she couldn't breathe. It was like living a nightmare, one she couldn't wake up from. "You can't want to stay here," she whispered. Then louder, "This isn't your universe!"
"Perhaps. I haven't made a final decision yet." His eyes traveled her body, like a tiger stalking his prey. "Which brings us back to you. Tell me, just what are you willing to do to get him back, my lovely Triona?”
She didn’t reply, staring off into some place only she could see.
“Answer me!” he commanded.
Triona knew he already had the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it. “Anything,” she said tonelessly.
“Come here.” Those two words fell into the silence of the room. No longer amused, no longer angry. He didn’t need to be any of those anymore. Now he knew he’d won.
Triona obeyed. There were no options left.
Reaching up, he wound her hair around his fist, using it as a lever to pull her down to kneel before him. “And what do you think, having done whatever it took to get him back, he’ll feel when he looks at you? Do you suppose he will ever be able to touch you again without remembering what happened here?” The hand tightened in her hair, pulling her head back sharply, his eyes capturing hers. “I will always be with you, Triona.”
Part One ][ Part Two ][ Part Three ][ Part Four ][ Part Five ][ Part Six ][ Part Seven ][ Part Eight ][ Part Nine ][ Part Ten ][ Part Eleven ][ Part Twelve ][ Part Thirteen ][ Part Fourteen ][ Part Fifteen ][ Part Sixteen ][
Part Seventeen ][ Part Eighteen ][ Part Nineteen ][ Part Twenty