[FIC] Immortals: Rebirth- 1/1- NC-17
Title: Immortals: Rebirth
Author: Jourdana Standish
Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval nor the ideas of Highlander. If any Highlander people end up showing up, I do not own them either. Just for fun.
Words: 7,954
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Stephen Hart, Abby Maitland, Hilary Becker, the rest of the ARC team; Becker/Abby, Stephen/Abby
Warnings: Beyond the graphic sex, nothing yet.
Author's Note: Okay... this is a fusion with Highlander and is going to be a series. Each story will be a re-write of the episodes starting with 3.1 with it being set in this AU. Thank you to my enabler, you know who you are. With AUs sometimes comes certain re-writes to fit the story- that's what has happened with the episode as well as some things with history. You'll see why. I hope you enjoy!
~~~
Stephen Hart's eyes snapped open, his lungs pulling in air as he gasped. The air was cold, sterile, disgusting tasting. He wasn't outside, that much he knew.
"I suspected you'd be waking up soon."
It was a deep voice, one that he didn't recognize. He never believed in ghosts or spirits or anything that might drag him to hell. Or take him to heaven. Considering some of the things he had done in life, it had to be hell.
He ached as he turned his head, staring at the figure that stood nearby. Blinking a couple times, his heart started to pound. The man was what many women would consider handsome, but not in the same way he had been complimented. His eyes were not quite brown, but not a striking blue like his. They looked to be about the same height, but this man definitely had a slightly more muscular phsyique. Even beneath the clothing covering him, Stephen could tell.
"Who..." He sat up, coughing as a voice not used in a bit protested against his throat. "Who are you?" His voice was raspy and he was desperately thirsty.
"Captain Hilary Becker," he said. "Just recently hired as head of security at the ARC. Because of your very recent... incident."
That gave Stephen pause. He slowly turned his head to study the man more. "The ARC?" He received a single nod. "I should be dead. I..."
"Oh you were dead," Becker said. He finally moved, taking a couple steps towards Stephen. "But people like us don't stay dead long."
"People like--- why is my head buzzing?" Stephen asked.
"It's the Quickening and my presence," Becker said. "You sense when other Immortals are near."
"What bloody movie sci-fi nonsense are you spouting?" Stephen asked, his head falling back. He grunted as it came into contact with the metal. Metal similar to...
Launching off the autopsy table, Stephen's eyes darted back and forth as he stared. "Why am I in the morgue?"
"As I said, you were dead," Becker said. "An autopsy wasn't needed, considering the circumstances of your death, but..." His shoulders lifted.
"If I was dead, then why am I standing here talking to you?" Stephen asked, almost a sneer in his voice.
"You are unique," Becker said. "As I am." He turned his head and nodded to a pile of clothes on a chair. "I suggest changing so we can get you out of here. Too many questions are going to start coming up when they come for your body in the morning."
"Not until you answer my questions," Stephen said.
Becker simply gave him a look. Once again he nodded to the clothes. "Dressed, then we talk."
"No," Stephen said. "You will--."
"You are Immortal, Stephen Hart," Becker said. "But there are too many things you need to know and learn that can not be done here when you should be mauled and dead on that slab of metal."
"Who the hell ARE you? Besides batshit crazy?" Stephen demanded.
"I told you--."
"Bullshit, answer the damn question."
Becker lifted his chin slightly. Finally a small smile formed. "I'm an Immortal. I am known to your former boss as Captain Hilary Becker."
"Why do I hear a but?" Stephen asked.
Becker chuckled. "But I was born and am known through history as Alexander the third of Macedon," he said.
"Alexander the th... but that's..." Stephen's face turned even more skeptical.
"Yes, Mr. Hart. I was born Alexander the Great."
~~~
"Did he wake? How is he?"
Becker turned his head, glancing at the lovely blonde who had been a constant companion off and on for a millenia. She hadn't always been blonde, changing her look every few centuries to blend into the current style. In fact, when they had met, her skin had been a bit more tanned and her hair obsidian in color.
"You care for him," was all Becker said as he shed his overcoat, unlocking the belted sheath strapped to his chest and across his back that held his sword. If anyone saw the sword, many a historian would want to claim it for a personal collection or museum artifact. Others would claim it was simply a perfect copy due to its pristine condition. Under the circumstances of his life, Becker would never allow his sword to not be in pristine condition. Even when it was over 2,000 years old.
"Of course I do." Abby Maitland unfolded from where she sat and walked the short length to stand in front of Becker. "Why are you avoiding the question?"
Becker let out a sigh. He and Abby had not parted well the last time they were together, despite their mutual affections. He was often a man of his former life, possessive of what was his, almost demanding in his loyalties. Especially from his lovers, but he did not often reciprocate that loyalty. Something that didn't sit well with Abby, had never sat well with her. Though she was just as guilty, having pitted him against another lover before she became Immortal and he went by, yet another, different name then the one he now had and the one he was born with.
"I'm not avoiding," he finally said. "He is awake, but very confused. I told him I would explain more tomorrow after he has rested. As you well know, dying and reviving into this life is not the easiest to face."
"Does he know--"
"He only knows what I claim, including who I originally was," Becker interruped, turning to her. "The rest I will explain tomorrow to a point. Other things he must learn for himself."
Abby stiffened, leveling a stern look at her lover, or was it former currently? "You don't plan on telling him about me?"
Becker sighed again, this time it was almost long-suffering with a hint of annoyance behind it. He finally turned fully to her, his face almost impassive. He didn't want her to see the jealousy he felt, but knew it was futile when he saw an almost triumphant look on her face. How often had he seen that look over the years?
"He has much to adapt to and much has to be explained because I am sure he will want to return to the ARC," Becker said. "He knows of the feeling you get when around another with the Quickening, so keeping your immortality a secret will not last long once he senses you." There was more bite in his words than he realized, but the smirk starting to form on Abby's face said it all.
"You are jealous," she said.
"Don't," Becker answered back, turning his back to her as he walked over to the bar in his flat. He had often given the story that he was from a very affluent family, having gained a substantial inheritance upon the death of his parents, to explain how he managed to afford such lavish accommodations on a military salary.
"You are," Abby said. "Jealous of Stephen. Are you jealous of Con--."
She never got a chance to finish her sentence before she found herself pinned, hard, to the wall. It never ceased to amaze her, or thrill her, how quickly Becker could move. His breath was hot against her lips, her hands pinned above her head by his. Her toes barely touched the floor as he lifted her up against the wall, his leg between her thighs and brushing teasingly close to her core.
"Of course I'm jealous, you vixen," Becker finally hissed at her. "You tease me to no end, have since the moment we met. You parade around men that you have taken for lovers or have grown a fondness for, demanding I do nothing but take it, then return to me to taunt and tease me with the knowledge that you warm their beds and not mine. You did the same with Caesar when we met, even before gaining knowledge of who and what I am. Now you live with another man, while you have grown overly fond of this newborn Immortal. How do you expect me to react?"
Abby licked her lips, grinning as she caught his and his eyes darkened. "Why do you think I do it?" she said back, her voice husky. "You grow complacent, my love. And overly cocky that you can simply demand that I show you complete faithfulness and fidelity while you do not give the same. When I start to feel bored or unloved, I have to create a rise in you somehow." She leaned forward, his head coming back away from her. It made her eyes darken this time. She tried to move forward again, but Becker all but slammed her into the wall, his knee coming up to brush against her, illiciting a sharp hiss from her.
"So you tormet me on purpose?" he growled.
"Of course I do," Abby said, as if it was obvious. "Don't you? Isn't your litany of revolving women just a way to show me that you could have any woman you please, while I sit on the sideline? Darling, haven't we been dancing this dance since before my death?"
His hand was moving between them, moving clothing aside. He pressed himself to her, his lips against her throat, teeth scraping the skin. "You play a dangerous game, my queen," he growled. "You always have."
"I know," Abby said, her wrists shifting in his hands. "There is always a reason, because angry sex and make-up sex is always -- ahhh!" She couldn't finish as his hips shifted and she was impaled on the thick shaft of his cock.
This, this is why she provoked him. Why she demanded and took so much before giving in. Her body had always craved and needed his attentions like this. The love was amazing, the romance, but this all-encompassing need to feel him overpowering her and taking what she willingly gave is what drove her machinations most of the time. She loved when his anger got the best of him and he took her against any non-moving object that he could, practically marking her as his once more. It was a centuries old game that never got old.
This time teeth didn't simply graze against Abby's neck, instead flesh was caught between teeth and the pain simply drove her pleasure higher even as Becker's hips drove his cock even deeper. She remembered how sex was before she became Immortal. She could feel him holding back, could feel the need to pound into her over and over, but he had always held back so as not to hurt her mortal form. Once she realized the amount of pain and pleasure they could pull from one another after her first death, she came to know what she had been missing. They would pull every bit of pain and pleasure they could from each other. The angry either got, the better it was.
"Fuck," she cried out as his teeth drew blood. Her fingers clenched and her wrists released. Her hands immediately slid into his hair and she jerked his head away from her throat hard. He hissed at her slightly, angling his cock deeper before her mouth was crashing onto his. Her teeth bit into his lip, hard, drawing his blood to mingle with the taste of hers. Resting her elbows on his shoulders, she found better purchase and began driving her hips down to meet his. Their hips shoved together, painfully driving one another closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. She felt her body tightening around his cock, drawning him deeper, forcing his hips to move even harder, more powerfully against her. All too soon, they were both screaming their pleasure as their orgasms mutually washed over them.
Abby's legs fell away from Becker's hips, her toes barely touching the ground as he held her up. They probably would have given out if she tried to stand immediately. He always left her feeling boneless after every lovemaking session, but even more after one that was fueled by jealousy and possessiveness. Many mortals would consider theirs a volatile, unhealthy relationship. For them, it was simply who they were and always would be.
"I should go," she finally said.
Becker's eyebrow arched. "Really?" His tone was a bit queer, as if the jealousy and anger were returning.
"You know our rules about keeping up appearances," Abby said. "My flatmate is going to question why I don't come home, and we do not need questions to arise already if we arrived at the ARC tomorrow at the same time."
"Purely coincidental," Becker said lazily. He licked at the healing bite on her neck. "You still have some healing to do. And I don't quite think I've had my fill."
Extracting herself from his arms, Abby gave him a regal look born of her years as an Egyptian pharoah. "I have for tonight," she said. "And I will be healed by the time I return home."
"You are denying me?" His tone was turning dangerous, which only served to make Abby shiver. How she loved when his tone went in that direction. Usually it led into a night of lustful sex and often resulted in one of them needing a new bed by the end.
"Yes," was all she said instead. "I will make it up to you, I promise."
Straightening, he didn't bother tucking himself back into his pants as he walked over to her. She had to admit that it almost convinced her to stay. He reached a hand up and brushed against the mere bruising that now replaced his bite on her neck. His fingers moved back to brush against the nape of her neck, tickled by the short ends of her hair.
"I do miss the length," he said. "Perhaps one day..."
"Perhaps," Abby admitted. "Do you prefer me blonde or the black you remember?"
"The color never made much difference, though the black did set off the color of your eyes," Becker said. "It was always your eyes that captivated me."
"Mmm." She turned her head into his touch, remembering the day she first saw him after he had summoned her to Tarsus. How different those ancient times were, but the connection, the love, the passion, had not waned since then.
"You should go, for I do not think I can keep my hands to myself if you remain longer," Becker said.
"I will make it up to you," she said again. "See you tomorow... Captain."
"See you tomorrow, Miss Maitland."
~~~
Stephen was pacing in his flat, wondering at some of the packed boxes. He hadn't done it, so who had been here. A few times he had contemplated picking up the phone to call Cutter, but he couldn't find it. Then memories of waking up in the morgue would plague him and the pacing would begin anew. He stiffened when he felt a buzzing starting to form in his head. He frowned, trying to determine where it was coming from, just as he heard a key in his door. He looked for something to use as a weapon, almost growling when he could find nothing.
"Rest well?" Becker walked through the door, clad in dark clothing that looked like some sort of uniform, similar to the ones he had seen on the security detail from the ARC. Memory flitted of him telling Stephen that he was newly hired by Lester.
"How the hell did you get a key to my flat? And why are my things packed?"
"Did you forget the part where you died?" Becker questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. "You still retain some of the scars that caused the First Death."
"The... what the bloody hell are you talking about?" Stephen demanded. "Why won't my head stop buzzing?!"
"Because of me," Becker said. "I suggest you sit so I can explain."
"I will not--."
"Open your damn shirt and see the scars for yourself," Becker snapped. "I don't have time for this, and there are a few things you need to learn."
Stephen didn't have to open his shirt. He had seen the scars last night and again this morning. He had simply hoped that he was in the middle of some cruel joke. "How long since the attack?" he asked. "For me to be so healed, it must be months. Was I in a coma?"
"Morgues do not indicate comas," Becker said dryly. "And it's been two days. Your funeral is scheduled for tomorrow, but Cutter got the jumpstart on packing things in your flat from what Lester told me. I haven't met the man yet."
"You are full of shit," Stephen said. "These scars wouldn't heal in a matter of days..."
"Did you miss the part where I told you that you are now immortal?" Becker said.
"And I still say-- hey!" He never saw the man move, not until he had his hand in his and felt the sharp pain as Becker cut Stephen's palm. He watched, fascinated and horrified, as the skin sealed itself. It looked as if a streak of lightening had danced across the cut as it sealed.
"Are you willing to listen now?" Becker asked calmly. Stephen could only nod. He allowed himself to be pushed into a seat, Becker making himself comfortable enough to start a pot of coffee. By the time he had a cup in hand, Becker was explaining the entirety of being Immortal, the Quickening, and the Game. He also explained that he would serve as Stephen's First Teacher, teaching him how to properly wield a sword that would keep him from losing his head. That they would soon need to find the proper one he would wield as long as he lived. Before Becker could show Stephen his own sword, his mobile phone started to ring. He rose and pulled it from his pocket.
"It's Lester," Becker said. He clicked the accept button, lifting it to his ear. "Becker. Yes, sir. It would appear so. I received a report earlier..."
Stephen watched the man, frowning as he spoke easily to James Lester. He wondered what he had received a report on. That is, until Becker turned to look at him.
"I can only suspect Helen Cutter had something to do with it, sir," Becker said. "While he appears no worse for wear, Stephen Hart is perfectly fine. He's in his flat right now." He nodded, listening to whatever Lester was saying. "I received information earlier that someone was in his flat. When I arrived to investigate, I found him."
Stephen got to his feet, arching a brow at Becker. The other man lifted his hand as he continued to talk to Lester. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'll bring him in myself, sir. I am sure the team will have a lot of questions, especially upon meeting me. Yes, sir. I understand. We'll be there." He pulled the phone from his earand clicked the end button before looking at Stephen.
"I suggest you change," he said. "We're heading to the ARC."
~~~
Stephen's head was still abuzz as he had reunited with his former team members. Cutter kept giving him looks, almost suspicious ones. It made him nervous, but he played it cool. Considering so much of what they had faced, he didn't blame him. He was going to have to find Becker and find out how the hell they were going to explain all of this to the team. He hadn't seen Connor and Abby yet, which concerned him. Especially Abby.
Lowering his head, he rubbed the back of his neck as he took a couple of breaths. His spine stiffened as he felt a familiar buzzing in his head, one that Becker had explained meant the approach of another Immortal. He had also told Stephen that he would eventually grow accustomed to those he was familiar with and those he was not. Over time he would even know the difference between someone pre-Immortal and fully Immortal. He turned, expecting to see Becker walking towards him. Instead, it was Connor and Abby hurrying over.
"Stephen, you're alive!" That was Connor. As the younger man got closer, Stephen could tell that buzz wasn't coming from him. Which meant...
Accepting Connor's hug, his eyes locked with Abby's and he knew that she knew. And suddenly he had a keen understanding as to why Abby had always seemed like she had an old soul despite how young she appeared. Now he simply wondered just how old she truly was.
~~~
Becker didn't lift his head, he didn't need to. Stephen had to learn that he couldn't get the drop on another Immortal usually. Becker was easily able to duck when Stephen grabbed his arm and spun him around, taking a swing at him.
"And what has your knickers in a twist?" Becker said casually. He tsked when, instead of answering, Stephen took another swing at him. He blocked the hit, spinning the other man until he was easily pinned to a nearby wall.
"Let's try this again," Becker said. "What has your knick--."
"You never said Abby was an Immortal," he snarled.
"Ah," Becker said. He released Stephen, straightening his uniform jacket. When he started to advance again, Becker shoved him back to the wall. "Do not attempt that again, or I will show you how painful it is to die again."
"You--," Stephen started.
"It is not my place to tell who and who isn't Immortal," Becker said in a hushed voice. "And keep your voice down as our... existence is not wholly known. Otherwise we would be lab rats for scientists to try and understand."
Becker gave a small smirk that Stephen wanted nothing more than to wipe off his face. "Besides, you never asked."
Stephen's arm moved back, ready to swing again. "I wouldn't," a voice said from behind him. Stephen slowly turned, staring at Lester. "He truly is not a man you want on your bad side," the man said as he walked into the locker room more.
"You know?" Stephen asked.
"Of course I know," Lester said. "In fact, I brought him aboard for this very reason. I only acted surprised on the phone with him because Cutter was in my office, demanding to know where your body was."
"And Abby?" Stephen asked.
"Ah, well," Lester said, sniffling almost indignantly. "I was aware of another being in the ARC, but I was unaware of their identity until shortly after the incident with the future predators."
"You've known that-- wait," Stephen frowned. "How do you know?"
"These are things better left discussed in private," Lester said. "Something to be handled later, but for now..." He looked at Becker. "Anomaly detected. I suggest you gather your team before Cutter decides to leave you and them behind."
"Where are they headed?" Becker asked, already gathering his things.
"The British Museum."
~~~
*Egypt mythology. Of course,* Abby thought to herself as they entered the museum and had found their way to the back of the museum where the Sun Cage was now stored after following Sarah Page, an Egyptologist. A part of her wondered what this Sarah would think if she knew that one of the last Egyptian Pharoahs stood even a few feet away from her?
"I've got to get back to the ARC," Jenny said.
"The ARC?" Sarah questioned.
"Not that one," Connor said, glancing over at the new woman. Cutter couldn't help but smile.
"I have to brief Lester," Jenny explained. "Becker, can you secure the area?" Stephen glanced at the Immortal, seeing him nod and move off to do just as he was requested.
"Connor," Cutter said. "Stay here and see if you can work out what period the anomaly is linked to. And find out what Dr. Page knows about the Sun Cage."
He turned to Abby, glancing towards Stephen before focusing on her. "Abby, you're with me," he said.
"What about me?" Stephen said.
"You stay here, help Connor," Cutter said, never sparing him a glance.
"The hell I will," Stephen said. "I'm perfectly capable, and more experienced, in helping you and Abby then helping Connor."
"You're staying here with Connor," Cutter said, walking away. Abby looked between the two men. "That's an order, Stephen."
"You know what you can do with your order, Nick?" Stephen called off to him.
"Stephen," Abby said. She reached over and laid her hand against his chest. "Just stay here. You are still recovering from what happened." Her words said one thing, but the look she gave him said more. While he was perfectly fine, only three people besides himself knew just how perfectly fine. And right now, Cutter didn't trust Stephen.
"Fine," he got out. He covered Abby's hand with his, gently squeezing her fingers. She gave him a small smile before extracting her hand and hurrying off after Cutter. His returning smile to Abby quickly fell away. He turned and hesitated in his steps when he saw the dark look on Becker's face. It made him wonder what that was about. He'd have to sort it out later, what he did know was he was doing no good here. As soon as he had a chance, he was heading off after Cutter and Abby.
~~~
"I've lost the tracks," Abby said as she and Cutter rounded the corner. "We're going around in circles, Cutter. Stephen would know what to do."
Cutter's steps slowed, another wave of grief hitting him. Even though Stephen was alive, there was just something that didn't feel right. Abby stopped and turned, her shoulders slumping a little as she realized what she said.
"Sorry, but if you had just..."
"I don't trust him, Abby," Cutter commented. "Something's not right about this entire situation. I saw him attacked. There's no way he survived it. Yet... here he is."
"Well... maybe Helen did something?" Abby suggested. There were times, like this, when it was hard to not reveal the truth of Immortals and the Game. But Cutter was not even pre-Immortal, nor was Connor. Too much danger was in place if they had the knowledge of who Abby, Becker, and now Stephen were.
"Maybe," Cutter hedged. "Wouldn't put it past her, really, but in the same vain-- what if he's here because of her and not in a good way?"
"So you distrust me until I slip up? How long's that gonna be, Cutter?"
Cutter spun around, frowning when he saw Stephen standing there. "I thought I--."
"I know what you said, and I was going to give you a good idea of where you could shove your order, too," Stephen said. "I don't understand this any better than you do, but the fact remains that I am alive. So are you going to constantly look over your shoulder, waiting for my betrayal, or are we going to get to work and find the creature?"
"Singing a bit of a different tune then you were before your... death," Cutter said. "What happened to the reason Helen turned to you? Calling me arrogant. Actually, if memory serves, I fired you from the team. You shouldn't even be here."
"You aren't my boss," Stephen pointed out. "Lester is, and Helen manipulated me as much as you. By the way, didn't I tell you she told me that you and Lester were the ones behind all the troubles at the ARC?" He wrapped his hand around the gun he had gotten from one of the SUVs.
"And you believed her? Why would--," Cutter started.
"Enough," Abby finally interjected. "You can hash out who's is longer later, but for now we have a creature on the loose that we need to--." A scream ripped through the air, all three people turning towards the sound. At one, they moved in that direction, the argument temporarily forgotten.
When they came around the corner, Becker was just pulling up in a SUV as they examined the body. The tires screeched as Becker stopped, then hopped out. He gave Stephen a hard look, but focused on Cutter instead.
"What do we got, Professor?" he asked.
Cutter ignored him, frowning as something caught his eye. He picked up a large fragment from the top of the crushed car. "Abby, what do you make of that?" He tossed her the fragment.
Abby caught it and began to examine it, Stephen stepping closer to look over her shoulder at it. She looked at him, getting a nod before looking at Cutter. Both had drawn the same conclusion, but Abby voiced what was found. "Crocodile tooth."
"The river," Cutter said. He turned in the direction of the Thames, Stephen, Abby, and Becker close on his heels.
~~~
"What the..." Stephen watched, astonished, as Cutter tied the firehose around his waist. The Pristichampsus racing towards him and the maid before Cutter bungeed them over the side, the creature toppling after him.
"You know, I much preferred the idea of Ammut over this," Becker said, helping Abby out from under the table she had taken cover under. "And really? A tranquilizer gun?"
Abby arched a brow at him. "What did you expect me to do?" she asked. "I couldn't exactly whip out the khepesh and not raise questions with Cutter."
"The khe--," Stephen said, a frown furrowing his brow. "That's the sword of the pharoahs."
"At least you know your weaponry," Becker quipped. "That should make finding you a decent sword easy enough."
"Why would Abby have the sword of the pharoahs?" He pointed to Becker. "I get why you would have one, if what you told me was true, but why would Abby?"
"For the same reason Becker did," Abby said. "I was a Pharoah of Egypt."
"You--." Stephen was stunned, to say the least.
"History lesson later," Becker said. "Creature now."
"Cutter!" Abby ran out of the room onto the balcony. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him dangling over the edge with the maid. Becker stopped beside her, his eyes on the creature.
"It's head back to the river," he said.
"It probably just wants to go home," Stephen said. "Which means it's headed back to the anomaly."
"I'll call Connor," Cutter called up to them. "Tell him it's on its way and to keep a path clear so it will go in."
"Let's get them down, then we'll head back to the anomaly," Becker said.
~~~
"I'm too young to die!"
Abby wanted to smile, but she couldn't. Not when Connor was dangling above the Pristichampsus, just a breath away from its jaws. All it really needed to do was jump, but it was limping slightly from its fall at the shopping center.
"Bow!" Sarah suddenly said.
"What?" Cutter questioned.
"This creature is used to being treated like a God," she explained. "If we bow, it's a sign of respect."
"She's right," Abby said, remembering how they would bow to the statues of Ammut and Anubis during funerals of her family out of respect for their travels to the underworld. Instead of admitting that part, she simply reasoned something else. "If it doesn't feel we are a threat, it might not attack."
"I'm not bowing," Becker drawled. The mere idea of bowing to some creature didn't sit at all well with the man he was born has, nor with as the man he was called when first meeting Abby before her First Death.
"Get down on the floor," Cutter said, his eyes never leaving the creature.
"What?" This from both Stephen and Becker.
"Do it." Reluctantly, both men complied. Becker continued to keep his gun trained on the creature, even as it grew closer. He didn't like how it sniffed too closely at Abby, as if something resonated. Something that should have been impossible, but animals were a different entity that he never always understood despite his age.
Finally, the creature simply lumbered its way over the boxes around the anomaly, disappearing through it. The anomaly pulsated, growing in size, and finally shrinking in on itself until it disappeared. Everyone let out the breath they were holding, even as Connor lost his grip on the chains and fell to the ground.
"Ow," he said.
Cutter looked to Sarah. "Nice call," he complimented.
"That should be the end of the curse, right?" Connor asked from where he lay. Abby arched a brow.
"Here's hoping," Sarah said.
"The curse?" Abby had never heard of a curse surrounding the Sun Cage, and she knew that the Priestess that had been in her father's court had not bestowed any curse on the item commissioned by her father. Of course she couldn't say that...
Sarah sidled over to Abby's side, leaning in to say quietly. "I made it up."
*Oh I like her...* "Don't tell him, yeah?"
"Of course not," Sarah responded. She and Abby exchanged grins as Cutter helped Connor to his feet.
"All right, let's go," Cutter said.
~~~
Stephen pulled open the door to his flat, blinking at seeing Abby standing there. She arched a brow at him, lifting a six-pack of ale to show him. He quirked a smile and stepped aside to allow her in, closing the door once she crossed the threshold.
"You need to be more careful," she said. "Until you can distinguish Immortals you know from those you don't, and until you are trained to keep that pretty head of yours from being separated from your shoulders."
"Not something I'm used to," Stephen said.
"Didn't Becker explain the Game?" Abby asked, handing him a bottle after she shed her jacket.
"He did, but a lot of it went over my head. Then he got a call from Lester, and well..." Stephen accepted the bottle. He grabbed a bottle opener from a nearby table, removing the cap and taking a swig. He offered the opener to Abby, waiting until she had done the same before speaking.
"I left before we could talk further."
Abby chuckled. "He's probably going to give you hell for that one, newborn," she teased.
"You uh... seem to know him well," Stephen said. "How's that?"
Abby carefully folded herself into a chair in Stephen's flat, crossing her leg at the knee. She knew this was a conversation that would be almost immediate once they were alone.
"Becker and I met before my First Death," she said. "When he was going by one of his many aliases over the years."
"How long ago was that?" Stephen asked, lifting the bottle to take another pull from it.
"A couple thousand years ago, give or take."
Stephen almost choked, some of the ale actually going up his nose. He sputtered and coughed, heading to the kitchen to grab a napkin. He coughed some more, regaining his composure before going back into the living room.
"A couple thousand?" Stephen said.
"Did you miss the part where I said I was a Pharoah of Egypt?" Abby asked, her questioned softened by a smile.
"If my history lessons are remembered correctly, the last Pharoah of Egypt was Cleopatra VII and she died in 30 BC," Stephen said.
"Yes. I know," Abby said. Something about her tone made Stephen pause. He stared at her, finally seeing the depth of wisdom and knowledge in her blue eyes.
"Are you telling me that you are Cleopatra?" Stephen asked, his voice slightly rough. The enormity of what Abby was potentially telling him was only overshadowed by the fact that Becker claimed he was Alexander the Great.
"Yes," Abby said. She rose, shedding her overshirt so just a tank top separated his eyes from her bare skin. She walked over and carefully pulled her tank top down, revealing the smooth skin of her breast, barely keeping modesty as he saw two scars on the skin. Puncture marks. Two bite marks.
Stephen reached his hand up instinctively, pausing. "But..." Abby shifted and he moved his hand to brushed over the parked markings. "I thought it had to be a violent..."
"Poison had been slowly added to my food for a few days," Abby said. "When I heard news of my beloved Antony's mortal wound, I made them bring him to me. He died in my arms and I couldn't bear the thought of living without him. So I provoked the asp as I held it, until it bit me where you see. The venom, mingled with the poison, made my death quite violent. Not nearly what yours was, but still violent in its own right."
"But Alexander the Great had been dead--."
"He took on the name of Mark Antony during that time," Abby cut him off. Stephen's eyes shot to hers, the implication left him with no doubts of just how well Abby knew Becker.
"But Cleopatra had children with Mark Antony," Stephen said. "Becker told me we are sterile."
"As Immortals we are," Abby said. "And I am sure that you know that Antony and I had a rather... volatile relationship."
"Supposedly, yes. I take it that's true then?" Stephen asked. His fingers had not left her skin and he made no move to lift them away.
"Very true," Abby said. "I am, by nature, a generally jealous person. But so was he. My children were Caesar's and another who I took for a lover, claiming Antony impregnated me."
"But he always knew," Stephen figured out.
"Yes, and yet he never claimed differently. At least historically," she said. "It wasn't until after my First Death that he told me who, and what, he was. We've been dancing the same possessive dance ever since."
Stephen started to pull his hand away from her skin. "So you are lovers," he said. He couldn't fully describe why that disappointed him.
"We've always been lovers," she said, catching Stephen's hand and pulling it back to touch her skin. "And we've always had other lovers. If you remember history, Alexander the Great was also bisexual, enjoying the bed of men and women." That should not have given Stephen the thrill that it did at the mere idea.
"I was in an affair once," Stephen said, referring to his time with Helen. "I won't--."
"Stephen, what I have with Becker, what I've always had with him regardless of the names we go by, is... complicated," Abby said. "I do not demand his fidelity, though he sometimes demands mine, but does not expect it. With who we are, sometimes we can't. Too many centuries come, too many things can change along the way to do so."
"Abby--." She cut him off with a kiss, sliding her fingers into his hair to draw him closer. Despite her love for Becker, she had always been drawn to Stephen. What she told Stephen was true, what she had with Becker was complicated and born from centuries of give and take, tease and toy, manipulations and jealousies. It didn't change what they felt, but she wouldn't pass up a chance to be with another she had grown quite fond of.
Stephen groaned low in his throat, picking Abby up. Her legs wrapped around his hips and he remembered the first time she had, when she jumped into his arms after they had gotten the Pteranadon back through the anomaly. It had felt so right, that he had floundered for weeks trying to find a way to ask her out, woo her, give in to the chance of bringing her to his bed where he could feel her legs around him again. Then all hell broke loose with Helen and Cutter, and he never got the chance.
Carrying Abby to his bed, he laid her down, breaking the kiss to trail his lips over her neck. He wasn't going to waste time now, his fingers already pulling at the fabric of her clothing to get it out of his way. Abby's thoughts apparently had been the same, as she pushed at his clothes too. Once he had rid her of her tank top and bra, he lowered his mouth to her breast. His breath was hot against her nipple, feeling it pucker beneath his touch. He lips caressed the scar she had received over two millenia before from the asp bite, his tongue finally tasting her as he traced the small puncture scars. His head shifted and his lips wrapped around her nipple, suckling against her. His fingers moved along her belly, brushing against the waistband of her panties. He wasn't going to question how she managed to wiggle out of her shoes and jeans, he simply reveled in feeling her skin beneath his fingertips. He slipped his fingers past the fabric, threading through the curls at the juncture of her legs, going further to tease her nether lips.
Abby arched her head back, gasping as she felt Stephen's fingers against her. Her own fingers slid into his hair, holding him to her breast as he suckled her. His fingers started moving in time with his tongue against her nipple, a single digit finally sliding into her wet passage. She squeezed against him, her hands moving from his hair to his waist as she began to work at getting his pants off.
"Patience," he murmured against her skin.
"Patience is not one of my strong points," Abby said, her voice a breathless gasp. "I've wanted you for awhile, don't make me wait."
Who was he to deny a Queen? Pulling away from her long enough to shed his clothes, he groaned as he watched her shimmy out of her panties before laying before him compeletely nude. No art or monument could do her beautify justice, nor could any of the actresses that had played Cleopatra over the years in cinema. Her beauty was undescribable. And she was here with him. He lowered himself beside her, tugging her close then rolling to his back. Abby quirked her head, earning a smirk from Stephen.
"Ride me," he said, his voice husky with need. Abby slowly grinned, her hand moving down to encircle his cock. He groaned, almost coming off the bed at the feel of her touching him. He forced his eyes open when he felt the bed shift. Watching her with fascination, she straddled his hips, one small hand still wrapped around his length.
"Ride you, hm?" Abby shifted, placing the head of his cock against her. She slowly sank the head of his shaft inside of her before straightening and sinking down the entire length of his cock. The feel of her wet warmth wrapping around him almost had Stephen coming right then and there.
"Take my hands," Abby demanded, linking their fingers as he listened. "Don't hold back." And then her hips began to rock. He groaned, his hips moving up to hers as she changed pace from fast to slow, never lifting away from him. Every hard inch of him was rocking in her body, it was probably the most amazing thing he had ever felt. His eyes fluttered closed.
"Look at me." It was a demand, one a queen would issue. Wasn't that who and what she truly was? His eyes opened and he could swear he could see her back as she once was, hair long and dark, flowing around her and clinging to skin that was growing damp as they moved.
Leaning forward, Abby pressed Stephen's hands into the bed, never letting go. She slid her hips up, letting his cock slide out of her just to the head. A smirk formed on her lips, her head lowering to brush against his mouth.
"Fuck me," she whispered. It made Stephen groan even as his hips drove up into her, pulling back, and repeating.
"Harder," she said.
"I don't want to hurt..." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he felt her body squeezing his cock.
"Pain and pleasure mingle," Abby groaned, nipping his lower lip. "Make me scream your name, Stephen. Fuck me hard."
Stephen began moving his hips upward, almost slamming against hers. He could feel every inch of him pushing as deeply as possible into Abby. Her head fell back, her throat arching as her mouth opened and the delicious mews slipping from her throat drove his thrusts even more. He could feel her nails digging into his skin.
"Yes," Abby moaned. "Stephen..." She began to move her own hips, finding a rhthym of driving down against his upward thrusts. It shook Stephen to the core, seeing her face contort in a combination of pain and pleasure. Her breasts were flushed, bouncing with their movements together as he felt his bed moving under the intensity.
"Harder," Abby whimpered. "I'm so close... Stephen..."
Stephen untangled his hands, grabbing Abby's hips and jerking her down against him. She sat up, crying out as his cock slipped harder and deeper into her. Two more thrusts had Stephen and Abby both yelling the other's name as their orgasms were pulled from them. Stephen was the first to collapse bonelessly against the bed, Abby not long after as she nestled into his chest.
Stephen only had enough energy to grab a discarded blanket, drapping it over their bodies as the cool air began to dry their skin. His fingers slid along Abby's skin, delighting in the silky feel. He had almost lost this chance with her, but he had a suspicious feeling it wouldn't last. He had another to contend with in the form of Becker. He stiffened beneath Abby, feeling the presence of another Immortal close. It was the same sensation he felt when by Abby and Becker at the museum earlier.
"Becker's outside," Abby murmured.
"He was watching?" Stephen asked indignantly.
"We can't see through things," Abby teased. "But he knows I'm here. Probably knows what we've done."
"Do I have to watch my head?" Stephen asked. Under most circumstances, he would put up a good fight if it came down to it. But now he suspected that it was a bit more than that, and due to Becker's age he would come out on the losing side.
"No," Abby said. "At least not how you mean. He may throw a fist or make life hell for a bit." She shifted and propped her chin on his chest. "I'll talk to him."
"If he's so jealous, why get involved with him over and over?" Stephen asked.
"I'm just as jealous," Abby said. "And I love him. I always have, it'll never change."
He swallowed, feeling his heart clench. He felt like she'd just shoved a dagger into him. "And me? Am I just a novelty to make him jealous?"
"You are special," Abby said. "To us both."
There was a cryptic tone to Abby's words, it left Stephen with a combination of unease and a small thrill. Before he could question her, her lips were on his and he decided it was a train of thought better left to deal with tomorrow.
~~
Becker's hands were in his pocket as he stared up at the building where Stephen's flat was located. He was staring straight at the window of his flat, could even see the shadows as Abby and Stephen continued their night of passion. He wouldn't clench his fists, wouldn't give into the jealousy coursing through him. He watched one more time, imagining the pair together, before he turned and started to walk away. It wasn't time yet for him to face the fact that his jealousy ran both ways. But the time would come when he would once again claim Cleopatra for his own. And when he would also claim Stephen Hart right along with her.
Author: Jourdana Standish
Disclaimer: I do not own Primeval nor the ideas of Highlander. If any Highlander people end up showing up, I do not own them either. Just for fun.
Words: 7,954
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Stephen Hart, Abby Maitland, Hilary Becker, the rest of the ARC team; Becker/Abby, Stephen/Abby
Warnings: Beyond the graphic sex, nothing yet.
Author's Note: Okay... this is a fusion with Highlander and is going to be a series. Each story will be a re-write of the episodes starting with 3.1 with it being set in this AU. Thank you to my enabler, you know who you are. With AUs sometimes comes certain re-writes to fit the story- that's what has happened with the episode as well as some things with history. You'll see why. I hope you enjoy!
~~~
Stephen Hart's eyes snapped open, his lungs pulling in air as he gasped. The air was cold, sterile, disgusting tasting. He wasn't outside, that much he knew.
"I suspected you'd be waking up soon."
It was a deep voice, one that he didn't recognize. He never believed in ghosts or spirits or anything that might drag him to hell. Or take him to heaven. Considering some of the things he had done in life, it had to be hell.
He ached as he turned his head, staring at the figure that stood nearby. Blinking a couple times, his heart started to pound. The man was what many women would consider handsome, but not in the same way he had been complimented. His eyes were not quite brown, but not a striking blue like his. They looked to be about the same height, but this man definitely had a slightly more muscular phsyique. Even beneath the clothing covering him, Stephen could tell.
"Who..." He sat up, coughing as a voice not used in a bit protested against his throat. "Who are you?" His voice was raspy and he was desperately thirsty.
"Captain Hilary Becker," he said. "Just recently hired as head of security at the ARC. Because of your very recent... incident."
That gave Stephen pause. He slowly turned his head to study the man more. "The ARC?" He received a single nod. "I should be dead. I..."
"Oh you were dead," Becker said. He finally moved, taking a couple steps towards Stephen. "But people like us don't stay dead long."
"People like--- why is my head buzzing?" Stephen asked.
"It's the Quickening and my presence," Becker said. "You sense when other Immortals are near."
"What bloody movie sci-fi nonsense are you spouting?" Stephen asked, his head falling back. He grunted as it came into contact with the metal. Metal similar to...
Launching off the autopsy table, Stephen's eyes darted back and forth as he stared. "Why am I in the morgue?"
"As I said, you were dead," Becker said. "An autopsy wasn't needed, considering the circumstances of your death, but..." His shoulders lifted.
"If I was dead, then why am I standing here talking to you?" Stephen asked, almost a sneer in his voice.
"You are unique," Becker said. "As I am." He turned his head and nodded to a pile of clothes on a chair. "I suggest changing so we can get you out of here. Too many questions are going to start coming up when they come for your body in the morning."
"Not until you answer my questions," Stephen said.
Becker simply gave him a look. Once again he nodded to the clothes. "Dressed, then we talk."
"No," Stephen said. "You will--."
"You are Immortal, Stephen Hart," Becker said. "But there are too many things you need to know and learn that can not be done here when you should be mauled and dead on that slab of metal."
"Who the hell ARE you? Besides batshit crazy?" Stephen demanded.
"I told you--."
"Bullshit, answer the damn question."
Becker lifted his chin slightly. Finally a small smile formed. "I'm an Immortal. I am known to your former boss as Captain Hilary Becker."
"Why do I hear a but?" Stephen asked.
Becker chuckled. "But I was born and am known through history as Alexander the third of Macedon," he said.
"Alexander the th... but that's..." Stephen's face turned even more skeptical.
"Yes, Mr. Hart. I was born Alexander the Great."
~~~
"Did he wake? How is he?"
Becker turned his head, glancing at the lovely blonde who had been a constant companion off and on for a millenia. She hadn't always been blonde, changing her look every few centuries to blend into the current style. In fact, when they had met, her skin had been a bit more tanned and her hair obsidian in color.
"You care for him," was all Becker said as he shed his overcoat, unlocking the belted sheath strapped to his chest and across his back that held his sword. If anyone saw the sword, many a historian would want to claim it for a personal collection or museum artifact. Others would claim it was simply a perfect copy due to its pristine condition. Under the circumstances of his life, Becker would never allow his sword to not be in pristine condition. Even when it was over 2,000 years old.
"Of course I do." Abby Maitland unfolded from where she sat and walked the short length to stand in front of Becker. "Why are you avoiding the question?"
Becker let out a sigh. He and Abby had not parted well the last time they were together, despite their mutual affections. He was often a man of his former life, possessive of what was his, almost demanding in his loyalties. Especially from his lovers, but he did not often reciprocate that loyalty. Something that didn't sit well with Abby, had never sat well with her. Though she was just as guilty, having pitted him against another lover before she became Immortal and he went by, yet another, different name then the one he now had and the one he was born with.
"I'm not avoiding," he finally said. "He is awake, but very confused. I told him I would explain more tomorrow after he has rested. As you well know, dying and reviving into this life is not the easiest to face."
"Does he know--"
"He only knows what I claim, including who I originally was," Becker interruped, turning to her. "The rest I will explain tomorrow to a point. Other things he must learn for himself."
Abby stiffened, leveling a stern look at her lover, or was it former currently? "You don't plan on telling him about me?"
Becker sighed again, this time it was almost long-suffering with a hint of annoyance behind it. He finally turned fully to her, his face almost impassive. He didn't want her to see the jealousy he felt, but knew it was futile when he saw an almost triumphant look on her face. How often had he seen that look over the years?
"He has much to adapt to and much has to be explained because I am sure he will want to return to the ARC," Becker said. "He knows of the feeling you get when around another with the Quickening, so keeping your immortality a secret will not last long once he senses you." There was more bite in his words than he realized, but the smirk starting to form on Abby's face said it all.
"You are jealous," she said.
"Don't," Becker answered back, turning his back to her as he walked over to the bar in his flat. He had often given the story that he was from a very affluent family, having gained a substantial inheritance upon the death of his parents, to explain how he managed to afford such lavish accommodations on a military salary.
"You are," Abby said. "Jealous of Stephen. Are you jealous of Con--."
She never got a chance to finish her sentence before she found herself pinned, hard, to the wall. It never ceased to amaze her, or thrill her, how quickly Becker could move. His breath was hot against her lips, her hands pinned above her head by his. Her toes barely touched the floor as he lifted her up against the wall, his leg between her thighs and brushing teasingly close to her core.
"Of course I'm jealous, you vixen," Becker finally hissed at her. "You tease me to no end, have since the moment we met. You parade around men that you have taken for lovers or have grown a fondness for, demanding I do nothing but take it, then return to me to taunt and tease me with the knowledge that you warm their beds and not mine. You did the same with Caesar when we met, even before gaining knowledge of who and what I am. Now you live with another man, while you have grown overly fond of this newborn Immortal. How do you expect me to react?"
Abby licked her lips, grinning as she caught his and his eyes darkened. "Why do you think I do it?" she said back, her voice husky. "You grow complacent, my love. And overly cocky that you can simply demand that I show you complete faithfulness and fidelity while you do not give the same. When I start to feel bored or unloved, I have to create a rise in you somehow." She leaned forward, his head coming back away from her. It made her eyes darken this time. She tried to move forward again, but Becker all but slammed her into the wall, his knee coming up to brush against her, illiciting a sharp hiss from her.
"So you tormet me on purpose?" he growled.
"Of course I do," Abby said, as if it was obvious. "Don't you? Isn't your litany of revolving women just a way to show me that you could have any woman you please, while I sit on the sideline? Darling, haven't we been dancing this dance since before my death?"
His hand was moving between them, moving clothing aside. He pressed himself to her, his lips against her throat, teeth scraping the skin. "You play a dangerous game, my queen," he growled. "You always have."
"I know," Abby said, her wrists shifting in his hands. "There is always a reason, because angry sex and make-up sex is always -- ahhh!" She couldn't finish as his hips shifted and she was impaled on the thick shaft of his cock.
This, this is why she provoked him. Why she demanded and took so much before giving in. Her body had always craved and needed his attentions like this. The love was amazing, the romance, but this all-encompassing need to feel him overpowering her and taking what she willingly gave is what drove her machinations most of the time. She loved when his anger got the best of him and he took her against any non-moving object that he could, practically marking her as his once more. It was a centuries old game that never got old.
This time teeth didn't simply graze against Abby's neck, instead flesh was caught between teeth and the pain simply drove her pleasure higher even as Becker's hips drove his cock even deeper. She remembered how sex was before she became Immortal. She could feel him holding back, could feel the need to pound into her over and over, but he had always held back so as not to hurt her mortal form. Once she realized the amount of pain and pleasure they could pull from one another after her first death, she came to know what she had been missing. They would pull every bit of pain and pleasure they could from each other. The angry either got, the better it was.
"Fuck," she cried out as his teeth drew blood. Her fingers clenched and her wrists released. Her hands immediately slid into his hair and she jerked his head away from her throat hard. He hissed at her slightly, angling his cock deeper before her mouth was crashing onto his. Her teeth bit into his lip, hard, drawing his blood to mingle with the taste of hers. Resting her elbows on his shoulders, she found better purchase and began driving her hips down to meet his. Their hips shoved together, painfully driving one another closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. She felt her body tightening around his cock, drawning him deeper, forcing his hips to move even harder, more powerfully against her. All too soon, they were both screaming their pleasure as their orgasms mutually washed over them.
Abby's legs fell away from Becker's hips, her toes barely touching the ground as he held her up. They probably would have given out if she tried to stand immediately. He always left her feeling boneless after every lovemaking session, but even more after one that was fueled by jealousy and possessiveness. Many mortals would consider theirs a volatile, unhealthy relationship. For them, it was simply who they were and always would be.
"I should go," she finally said.
Becker's eyebrow arched. "Really?" His tone was a bit queer, as if the jealousy and anger were returning.
"You know our rules about keeping up appearances," Abby said. "My flatmate is going to question why I don't come home, and we do not need questions to arise already if we arrived at the ARC tomorrow at the same time."
"Purely coincidental," Becker said lazily. He licked at the healing bite on her neck. "You still have some healing to do. And I don't quite think I've had my fill."
Extracting herself from his arms, Abby gave him a regal look born of her years as an Egyptian pharoah. "I have for tonight," she said. "And I will be healed by the time I return home."
"You are denying me?" His tone was turning dangerous, which only served to make Abby shiver. How she loved when his tone went in that direction. Usually it led into a night of lustful sex and often resulted in one of them needing a new bed by the end.
"Yes," was all she said instead. "I will make it up to you, I promise."
Straightening, he didn't bother tucking himself back into his pants as he walked over to her. She had to admit that it almost convinced her to stay. He reached a hand up and brushed against the mere bruising that now replaced his bite on her neck. His fingers moved back to brush against the nape of her neck, tickled by the short ends of her hair.
"I do miss the length," he said. "Perhaps one day..."
"Perhaps," Abby admitted. "Do you prefer me blonde or the black you remember?"
"The color never made much difference, though the black did set off the color of your eyes," Becker said. "It was always your eyes that captivated me."
"Mmm." She turned her head into his touch, remembering the day she first saw him after he had summoned her to Tarsus. How different those ancient times were, but the connection, the love, the passion, had not waned since then.
"You should go, for I do not think I can keep my hands to myself if you remain longer," Becker said.
"I will make it up to you," she said again. "See you tomorow... Captain."
"See you tomorrow, Miss Maitland."
~~~
Stephen was pacing in his flat, wondering at some of the packed boxes. He hadn't done it, so who had been here. A few times he had contemplated picking up the phone to call Cutter, but he couldn't find it. Then memories of waking up in the morgue would plague him and the pacing would begin anew. He stiffened when he felt a buzzing starting to form in his head. He frowned, trying to determine where it was coming from, just as he heard a key in his door. He looked for something to use as a weapon, almost growling when he could find nothing.
"Rest well?" Becker walked through the door, clad in dark clothing that looked like some sort of uniform, similar to the ones he had seen on the security detail from the ARC. Memory flitted of him telling Stephen that he was newly hired by Lester.
"How the hell did you get a key to my flat? And why are my things packed?"
"Did you forget the part where you died?" Becker questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. "You still retain some of the scars that caused the First Death."
"The... what the bloody hell are you talking about?" Stephen demanded. "Why won't my head stop buzzing?!"
"Because of me," Becker said. "I suggest you sit so I can explain."
"I will not--."
"Open your damn shirt and see the scars for yourself," Becker snapped. "I don't have time for this, and there are a few things you need to learn."
Stephen didn't have to open his shirt. He had seen the scars last night and again this morning. He had simply hoped that he was in the middle of some cruel joke. "How long since the attack?" he asked. "For me to be so healed, it must be months. Was I in a coma?"
"Morgues do not indicate comas," Becker said dryly. "And it's been two days. Your funeral is scheduled for tomorrow, but Cutter got the jumpstart on packing things in your flat from what Lester told me. I haven't met the man yet."
"You are full of shit," Stephen said. "These scars wouldn't heal in a matter of days..."
"Did you miss the part where I told you that you are now immortal?" Becker said.
"And I still say-- hey!" He never saw the man move, not until he had his hand in his and felt the sharp pain as Becker cut Stephen's palm. He watched, fascinated and horrified, as the skin sealed itself. It looked as if a streak of lightening had danced across the cut as it sealed.
"Are you willing to listen now?" Becker asked calmly. Stephen could only nod. He allowed himself to be pushed into a seat, Becker making himself comfortable enough to start a pot of coffee. By the time he had a cup in hand, Becker was explaining the entirety of being Immortal, the Quickening, and the Game. He also explained that he would serve as Stephen's First Teacher, teaching him how to properly wield a sword that would keep him from losing his head. That they would soon need to find the proper one he would wield as long as he lived. Before Becker could show Stephen his own sword, his mobile phone started to ring. He rose and pulled it from his pocket.
"It's Lester," Becker said. He clicked the accept button, lifting it to his ear. "Becker. Yes, sir. It would appear so. I received a report earlier..."
Stephen watched the man, frowning as he spoke easily to James Lester. He wondered what he had received a report on. That is, until Becker turned to look at him.
"I can only suspect Helen Cutter had something to do with it, sir," Becker said. "While he appears no worse for wear, Stephen Hart is perfectly fine. He's in his flat right now." He nodded, listening to whatever Lester was saying. "I received information earlier that someone was in his flat. When I arrived to investigate, I found him."
Stephen got to his feet, arching a brow at Becker. The other man lifted his hand as he continued to talk to Lester. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'll bring him in myself, sir. I am sure the team will have a lot of questions, especially upon meeting me. Yes, sir. I understand. We'll be there." He pulled the phone from his earand clicked the end button before looking at Stephen.
"I suggest you change," he said. "We're heading to the ARC."
~~~
Stephen's head was still abuzz as he had reunited with his former team members. Cutter kept giving him looks, almost suspicious ones. It made him nervous, but he played it cool. Considering so much of what they had faced, he didn't blame him. He was going to have to find Becker and find out how the hell they were going to explain all of this to the team. He hadn't seen Connor and Abby yet, which concerned him. Especially Abby.
Lowering his head, he rubbed the back of his neck as he took a couple of breaths. His spine stiffened as he felt a familiar buzzing in his head, one that Becker had explained meant the approach of another Immortal. He had also told Stephen that he would eventually grow accustomed to those he was familiar with and those he was not. Over time he would even know the difference between someone pre-Immortal and fully Immortal. He turned, expecting to see Becker walking towards him. Instead, it was Connor and Abby hurrying over.
"Stephen, you're alive!" That was Connor. As the younger man got closer, Stephen could tell that buzz wasn't coming from him. Which meant...
Accepting Connor's hug, his eyes locked with Abby's and he knew that she knew. And suddenly he had a keen understanding as to why Abby had always seemed like she had an old soul despite how young she appeared. Now he simply wondered just how old she truly was.
~~~
Becker didn't lift his head, he didn't need to. Stephen had to learn that he couldn't get the drop on another Immortal usually. Becker was easily able to duck when Stephen grabbed his arm and spun him around, taking a swing at him.
"And what has your knickers in a twist?" Becker said casually. He tsked when, instead of answering, Stephen took another swing at him. He blocked the hit, spinning the other man until he was easily pinned to a nearby wall.
"Let's try this again," Becker said. "What has your knick--."
"You never said Abby was an Immortal," he snarled.
"Ah," Becker said. He released Stephen, straightening his uniform jacket. When he started to advance again, Becker shoved him back to the wall. "Do not attempt that again, or I will show you how painful it is to die again."
"You--," Stephen started.
"It is not my place to tell who and who isn't Immortal," Becker said in a hushed voice. "And keep your voice down as our... existence is not wholly known. Otherwise we would be lab rats for scientists to try and understand."
Becker gave a small smirk that Stephen wanted nothing more than to wipe off his face. "Besides, you never asked."
Stephen's arm moved back, ready to swing again. "I wouldn't," a voice said from behind him. Stephen slowly turned, staring at Lester. "He truly is not a man you want on your bad side," the man said as he walked into the locker room more.
"You know?" Stephen asked.
"Of course I know," Lester said. "In fact, I brought him aboard for this very reason. I only acted surprised on the phone with him because Cutter was in my office, demanding to know where your body was."
"And Abby?" Stephen asked.
"Ah, well," Lester said, sniffling almost indignantly. "I was aware of another being in the ARC, but I was unaware of their identity until shortly after the incident with the future predators."
"You've known that-- wait," Stephen frowned. "How do you know?"
"These are things better left discussed in private," Lester said. "Something to be handled later, but for now..." He looked at Becker. "Anomaly detected. I suggest you gather your team before Cutter decides to leave you and them behind."
"Where are they headed?" Becker asked, already gathering his things.
"The British Museum."
~~~
*Egypt mythology. Of course,* Abby thought to herself as they entered the museum and had found their way to the back of the museum where the Sun Cage was now stored after following Sarah Page, an Egyptologist. A part of her wondered what this Sarah would think if she knew that one of the last Egyptian Pharoahs stood even a few feet away from her?
"I've got to get back to the ARC," Jenny said.
"The ARC?" Sarah questioned.
"Not that one," Connor said, glancing over at the new woman. Cutter couldn't help but smile.
"I have to brief Lester," Jenny explained. "Becker, can you secure the area?" Stephen glanced at the Immortal, seeing him nod and move off to do just as he was requested.
"Connor," Cutter said. "Stay here and see if you can work out what period the anomaly is linked to. And find out what Dr. Page knows about the Sun Cage."
He turned to Abby, glancing towards Stephen before focusing on her. "Abby, you're with me," he said.
"What about me?" Stephen said.
"You stay here, help Connor," Cutter said, never sparing him a glance.
"The hell I will," Stephen said. "I'm perfectly capable, and more experienced, in helping you and Abby then helping Connor."
"You're staying here with Connor," Cutter said, walking away. Abby looked between the two men. "That's an order, Stephen."
"You know what you can do with your order, Nick?" Stephen called off to him.
"Stephen," Abby said. She reached over and laid her hand against his chest. "Just stay here. You are still recovering from what happened." Her words said one thing, but the look she gave him said more. While he was perfectly fine, only three people besides himself knew just how perfectly fine. And right now, Cutter didn't trust Stephen.
"Fine," he got out. He covered Abby's hand with his, gently squeezing her fingers. She gave him a small smile before extracting her hand and hurrying off after Cutter. His returning smile to Abby quickly fell away. He turned and hesitated in his steps when he saw the dark look on Becker's face. It made him wonder what that was about. He'd have to sort it out later, what he did know was he was doing no good here. As soon as he had a chance, he was heading off after Cutter and Abby.
~~~
"I've lost the tracks," Abby said as she and Cutter rounded the corner. "We're going around in circles, Cutter. Stephen would know what to do."
Cutter's steps slowed, another wave of grief hitting him. Even though Stephen was alive, there was just something that didn't feel right. Abby stopped and turned, her shoulders slumping a little as she realized what she said.
"Sorry, but if you had just..."
"I don't trust him, Abby," Cutter commented. "Something's not right about this entire situation. I saw him attacked. There's no way he survived it. Yet... here he is."
"Well... maybe Helen did something?" Abby suggested. There were times, like this, when it was hard to not reveal the truth of Immortals and the Game. But Cutter was not even pre-Immortal, nor was Connor. Too much danger was in place if they had the knowledge of who Abby, Becker, and now Stephen were.
"Maybe," Cutter hedged. "Wouldn't put it past her, really, but in the same vain-- what if he's here because of her and not in a good way?"
"So you distrust me until I slip up? How long's that gonna be, Cutter?"
Cutter spun around, frowning when he saw Stephen standing there. "I thought I--."
"I know what you said, and I was going to give you a good idea of where you could shove your order, too," Stephen said. "I don't understand this any better than you do, but the fact remains that I am alive. So are you going to constantly look over your shoulder, waiting for my betrayal, or are we going to get to work and find the creature?"
"Singing a bit of a different tune then you were before your... death," Cutter said. "What happened to the reason Helen turned to you? Calling me arrogant. Actually, if memory serves, I fired you from the team. You shouldn't even be here."
"You aren't my boss," Stephen pointed out. "Lester is, and Helen manipulated me as much as you. By the way, didn't I tell you she told me that you and Lester were the ones behind all the troubles at the ARC?" He wrapped his hand around the gun he had gotten from one of the SUVs.
"And you believed her? Why would--," Cutter started.
"Enough," Abby finally interjected. "You can hash out who's is longer later, but for now we have a creature on the loose that we need to--." A scream ripped through the air, all three people turning towards the sound. At one, they moved in that direction, the argument temporarily forgotten.
When they came around the corner, Becker was just pulling up in a SUV as they examined the body. The tires screeched as Becker stopped, then hopped out. He gave Stephen a hard look, but focused on Cutter instead.
"What do we got, Professor?" he asked.
Cutter ignored him, frowning as something caught his eye. He picked up a large fragment from the top of the crushed car. "Abby, what do you make of that?" He tossed her the fragment.
Abby caught it and began to examine it, Stephen stepping closer to look over her shoulder at it. She looked at him, getting a nod before looking at Cutter. Both had drawn the same conclusion, but Abby voiced what was found. "Crocodile tooth."
"The river," Cutter said. He turned in the direction of the Thames, Stephen, Abby, and Becker close on his heels.
~~~
"What the..." Stephen watched, astonished, as Cutter tied the firehose around his waist. The Pristichampsus racing towards him and the maid before Cutter bungeed them over the side, the creature toppling after him.
"You know, I much preferred the idea of Ammut over this," Becker said, helping Abby out from under the table she had taken cover under. "And really? A tranquilizer gun?"
Abby arched a brow at him. "What did you expect me to do?" she asked. "I couldn't exactly whip out the khepesh and not raise questions with Cutter."
"The khe--," Stephen said, a frown furrowing his brow. "That's the sword of the pharoahs."
"At least you know your weaponry," Becker quipped. "That should make finding you a decent sword easy enough."
"Why would Abby have the sword of the pharoahs?" He pointed to Becker. "I get why you would have one, if what you told me was true, but why would Abby?"
"For the same reason Becker did," Abby said. "I was a Pharoah of Egypt."
"You--." Stephen was stunned, to say the least.
"History lesson later," Becker said. "Creature now."
"Cutter!" Abby ran out of the room onto the balcony. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him dangling over the edge with the maid. Becker stopped beside her, his eyes on the creature.
"It's head back to the river," he said.
"It probably just wants to go home," Stephen said. "Which means it's headed back to the anomaly."
"I'll call Connor," Cutter called up to them. "Tell him it's on its way and to keep a path clear so it will go in."
"Let's get them down, then we'll head back to the anomaly," Becker said.
~~~
"I'm too young to die!"
Abby wanted to smile, but she couldn't. Not when Connor was dangling above the Pristichampsus, just a breath away from its jaws. All it really needed to do was jump, but it was limping slightly from its fall at the shopping center.
"Bow!" Sarah suddenly said.
"What?" Cutter questioned.
"This creature is used to being treated like a God," she explained. "If we bow, it's a sign of respect."
"She's right," Abby said, remembering how they would bow to the statues of Ammut and Anubis during funerals of her family out of respect for their travels to the underworld. Instead of admitting that part, she simply reasoned something else. "If it doesn't feel we are a threat, it might not attack."
"I'm not bowing," Becker drawled. The mere idea of bowing to some creature didn't sit at all well with the man he was born has, nor with as the man he was called when first meeting Abby before her First Death.
"Get down on the floor," Cutter said, his eyes never leaving the creature.
"What?" This from both Stephen and Becker.
"Do it." Reluctantly, both men complied. Becker continued to keep his gun trained on the creature, even as it grew closer. He didn't like how it sniffed too closely at Abby, as if something resonated. Something that should have been impossible, but animals were a different entity that he never always understood despite his age.
Finally, the creature simply lumbered its way over the boxes around the anomaly, disappearing through it. The anomaly pulsated, growing in size, and finally shrinking in on itself until it disappeared. Everyone let out the breath they were holding, even as Connor lost his grip on the chains and fell to the ground.
"Ow," he said.
Cutter looked to Sarah. "Nice call," he complimented.
"That should be the end of the curse, right?" Connor asked from where he lay. Abby arched a brow.
"Here's hoping," Sarah said.
"The curse?" Abby had never heard of a curse surrounding the Sun Cage, and she knew that the Priestess that had been in her father's court had not bestowed any curse on the item commissioned by her father. Of course she couldn't say that...
Sarah sidled over to Abby's side, leaning in to say quietly. "I made it up."
*Oh I like her...* "Don't tell him, yeah?"
"Of course not," Sarah responded. She and Abby exchanged grins as Cutter helped Connor to his feet.
"All right, let's go," Cutter said.
~~~
Stephen pulled open the door to his flat, blinking at seeing Abby standing there. She arched a brow at him, lifting a six-pack of ale to show him. He quirked a smile and stepped aside to allow her in, closing the door once she crossed the threshold.
"You need to be more careful," she said. "Until you can distinguish Immortals you know from those you don't, and until you are trained to keep that pretty head of yours from being separated from your shoulders."
"Not something I'm used to," Stephen said.
"Didn't Becker explain the Game?" Abby asked, handing him a bottle after she shed her jacket.
"He did, but a lot of it went over my head. Then he got a call from Lester, and well..." Stephen accepted the bottle. He grabbed a bottle opener from a nearby table, removing the cap and taking a swig. He offered the opener to Abby, waiting until she had done the same before speaking.
"I left before we could talk further."
Abby chuckled. "He's probably going to give you hell for that one, newborn," she teased.
"You uh... seem to know him well," Stephen said. "How's that?"
Abby carefully folded herself into a chair in Stephen's flat, crossing her leg at the knee. She knew this was a conversation that would be almost immediate once they were alone.
"Becker and I met before my First Death," she said. "When he was going by one of his many aliases over the years."
"How long ago was that?" Stephen asked, lifting the bottle to take another pull from it.
"A couple thousand years ago, give or take."
Stephen almost choked, some of the ale actually going up his nose. He sputtered and coughed, heading to the kitchen to grab a napkin. He coughed some more, regaining his composure before going back into the living room.
"A couple thousand?" Stephen said.
"Did you miss the part where I said I was a Pharoah of Egypt?" Abby asked, her questioned softened by a smile.
"If my history lessons are remembered correctly, the last Pharoah of Egypt was Cleopatra VII and she died in 30 BC," Stephen said.
"Yes. I know," Abby said. Something about her tone made Stephen pause. He stared at her, finally seeing the depth of wisdom and knowledge in her blue eyes.
"Are you telling me that you are Cleopatra?" Stephen asked, his voice slightly rough. The enormity of what Abby was potentially telling him was only overshadowed by the fact that Becker claimed he was Alexander the Great.
"Yes," Abby said. She rose, shedding her overshirt so just a tank top separated his eyes from her bare skin. She walked over and carefully pulled her tank top down, revealing the smooth skin of her breast, barely keeping modesty as he saw two scars on the skin. Puncture marks. Two bite marks.
Stephen reached his hand up instinctively, pausing. "But..." Abby shifted and he moved his hand to brushed over the parked markings. "I thought it had to be a violent..."
"Poison had been slowly added to my food for a few days," Abby said. "When I heard news of my beloved Antony's mortal wound, I made them bring him to me. He died in my arms and I couldn't bear the thought of living without him. So I provoked the asp as I held it, until it bit me where you see. The venom, mingled with the poison, made my death quite violent. Not nearly what yours was, but still violent in its own right."
"But Alexander the Great had been dead--."
"He took on the name of Mark Antony during that time," Abby cut him off. Stephen's eyes shot to hers, the implication left him with no doubts of just how well Abby knew Becker.
"But Cleopatra had children with Mark Antony," Stephen said. "Becker told me we are sterile."
"As Immortals we are," Abby said. "And I am sure that you know that Antony and I had a rather... volatile relationship."
"Supposedly, yes. I take it that's true then?" Stephen asked. His fingers had not left her skin and he made no move to lift them away.
"Very true," Abby said. "I am, by nature, a generally jealous person. But so was he. My children were Caesar's and another who I took for a lover, claiming Antony impregnated me."
"But he always knew," Stephen figured out.
"Yes, and yet he never claimed differently. At least historically," she said. "It wasn't until after my First Death that he told me who, and what, he was. We've been dancing the same possessive dance ever since."
Stephen started to pull his hand away from her skin. "So you are lovers," he said. He couldn't fully describe why that disappointed him.
"We've always been lovers," she said, catching Stephen's hand and pulling it back to touch her skin. "And we've always had other lovers. If you remember history, Alexander the Great was also bisexual, enjoying the bed of men and women." That should not have given Stephen the thrill that it did at the mere idea.
"I was in an affair once," Stephen said, referring to his time with Helen. "I won't--."
"Stephen, what I have with Becker, what I've always had with him regardless of the names we go by, is... complicated," Abby said. "I do not demand his fidelity, though he sometimes demands mine, but does not expect it. With who we are, sometimes we can't. Too many centuries come, too many things can change along the way to do so."
"Abby--." She cut him off with a kiss, sliding her fingers into his hair to draw him closer. Despite her love for Becker, she had always been drawn to Stephen. What she told Stephen was true, what she had with Becker was complicated and born from centuries of give and take, tease and toy, manipulations and jealousies. It didn't change what they felt, but she wouldn't pass up a chance to be with another she had grown quite fond of.
Stephen groaned low in his throat, picking Abby up. Her legs wrapped around his hips and he remembered the first time she had, when she jumped into his arms after they had gotten the Pteranadon back through the anomaly. It had felt so right, that he had floundered for weeks trying to find a way to ask her out, woo her, give in to the chance of bringing her to his bed where he could feel her legs around him again. Then all hell broke loose with Helen and Cutter, and he never got the chance.
Carrying Abby to his bed, he laid her down, breaking the kiss to trail his lips over her neck. He wasn't going to waste time now, his fingers already pulling at the fabric of her clothing to get it out of his way. Abby's thoughts apparently had been the same, as she pushed at his clothes too. Once he had rid her of her tank top and bra, he lowered his mouth to her breast. His breath was hot against her nipple, feeling it pucker beneath his touch. He lips caressed the scar she had received over two millenia before from the asp bite, his tongue finally tasting her as he traced the small puncture scars. His head shifted and his lips wrapped around her nipple, suckling against her. His fingers moved along her belly, brushing against the waistband of her panties. He wasn't going to question how she managed to wiggle out of her shoes and jeans, he simply reveled in feeling her skin beneath his fingertips. He slipped his fingers past the fabric, threading through the curls at the juncture of her legs, going further to tease her nether lips.
Abby arched her head back, gasping as she felt Stephen's fingers against her. Her own fingers slid into his hair, holding him to her breast as he suckled her. His fingers started moving in time with his tongue against her nipple, a single digit finally sliding into her wet passage. She squeezed against him, her hands moving from his hair to his waist as she began to work at getting his pants off.
"Patience," he murmured against her skin.
"Patience is not one of my strong points," Abby said, her voice a breathless gasp. "I've wanted you for awhile, don't make me wait."
Who was he to deny a Queen? Pulling away from her long enough to shed his clothes, he groaned as he watched her shimmy out of her panties before laying before him compeletely nude. No art or monument could do her beautify justice, nor could any of the actresses that had played Cleopatra over the years in cinema. Her beauty was undescribable. And she was here with him. He lowered himself beside her, tugging her close then rolling to his back. Abby quirked her head, earning a smirk from Stephen.
"Ride me," he said, his voice husky with need. Abby slowly grinned, her hand moving down to encircle his cock. He groaned, almost coming off the bed at the feel of her touching him. He forced his eyes open when he felt the bed shift. Watching her with fascination, she straddled his hips, one small hand still wrapped around his length.
"Ride you, hm?" Abby shifted, placing the head of his cock against her. She slowly sank the head of his shaft inside of her before straightening and sinking down the entire length of his cock. The feel of her wet warmth wrapping around him almost had Stephen coming right then and there.
"Take my hands," Abby demanded, linking their fingers as he listened. "Don't hold back." And then her hips began to rock. He groaned, his hips moving up to hers as she changed pace from fast to slow, never lifting away from him. Every hard inch of him was rocking in her body, it was probably the most amazing thing he had ever felt. His eyes fluttered closed.
"Look at me." It was a demand, one a queen would issue. Wasn't that who and what she truly was? His eyes opened and he could swear he could see her back as she once was, hair long and dark, flowing around her and clinging to skin that was growing damp as they moved.
Leaning forward, Abby pressed Stephen's hands into the bed, never letting go. She slid her hips up, letting his cock slide out of her just to the head. A smirk formed on her lips, her head lowering to brush against his mouth.
"Fuck me," she whispered. It made Stephen groan even as his hips drove up into her, pulling back, and repeating.
"Harder," she said.
"I don't want to hurt..." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as he felt her body squeezing his cock.
"Pain and pleasure mingle," Abby groaned, nipping his lower lip. "Make me scream your name, Stephen. Fuck me hard."
Stephen began moving his hips upward, almost slamming against hers. He could feel every inch of him pushing as deeply as possible into Abby. Her head fell back, her throat arching as her mouth opened and the delicious mews slipping from her throat drove his thrusts even more. He could feel her nails digging into his skin.
"Yes," Abby moaned. "Stephen..." She began to move her own hips, finding a rhthym of driving down against his upward thrusts. It shook Stephen to the core, seeing her face contort in a combination of pain and pleasure. Her breasts were flushed, bouncing with their movements together as he felt his bed moving under the intensity.
"Harder," Abby whimpered. "I'm so close... Stephen..."
Stephen untangled his hands, grabbing Abby's hips and jerking her down against him. She sat up, crying out as his cock slipped harder and deeper into her. Two more thrusts had Stephen and Abby both yelling the other's name as their orgasms were pulled from them. Stephen was the first to collapse bonelessly against the bed, Abby not long after as she nestled into his chest.
Stephen only had enough energy to grab a discarded blanket, drapping it over their bodies as the cool air began to dry their skin. His fingers slid along Abby's skin, delighting in the silky feel. He had almost lost this chance with her, but he had a suspicious feeling it wouldn't last. He had another to contend with in the form of Becker. He stiffened beneath Abby, feeling the presence of another Immortal close. It was the same sensation he felt when by Abby and Becker at the museum earlier.
"Becker's outside," Abby murmured.
"He was watching?" Stephen asked indignantly.
"We can't see through things," Abby teased. "But he knows I'm here. Probably knows what we've done."
"Do I have to watch my head?" Stephen asked. Under most circumstances, he would put up a good fight if it came down to it. But now he suspected that it was a bit more than that, and due to Becker's age he would come out on the losing side.
"No," Abby said. "At least not how you mean. He may throw a fist or make life hell for a bit." She shifted and propped her chin on his chest. "I'll talk to him."
"If he's so jealous, why get involved with him over and over?" Stephen asked.
"I'm just as jealous," Abby said. "And I love him. I always have, it'll never change."
He swallowed, feeling his heart clench. He felt like she'd just shoved a dagger into him. "And me? Am I just a novelty to make him jealous?"
"You are special," Abby said. "To us both."
There was a cryptic tone to Abby's words, it left Stephen with a combination of unease and a small thrill. Before he could question her, her lips were on his and he decided it was a train of thought better left to deal with tomorrow.
~~
Becker's hands were in his pocket as he stared up at the building where Stephen's flat was located. He was staring straight at the window of his flat, could even see the shadows as Abby and Stephen continued their night of passion. He wouldn't clench his fists, wouldn't give into the jealousy coursing through him. He watched one more time, imagining the pair together, before he turned and started to walk away. It wasn't time yet for him to face the fact that his jealousy ran both ways. But the time would come when he would once again claim Cleopatra for his own. And when he would also claim Stephen Hart right along with her.