Title: You Forgot To Mention Hell, Horatio
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Status: Complete
Warnings: Nope. Not this time.
Category: Crossover with Highlander
Disclaimer: All other characters belong to their respective owners and are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.
This is what happens when you get involved with too many different fandoms.
Universe setting: For you Highlander fans, this story takes place sometime after ‘Archangel’ (sorry to all those Richie Forever people). Please forgive me for playing with the timelines of the shows, but hey, it’s fan-fic and I can do that ;-)
Thanks: As always, to Carrie, and to Marius, the oak and the ash to my birds in the forest.
{Epilogue}
‘Rain in Paris,’ Adam mused to himself, ‘what a surprise.’
In the month since he had taken his leave of Sunnydale, the Immortal had steadily continued researching the demon, Ahriman. Using the information he gathered from Giles’ vast collection of books, Adam had traced and tracked down lead after lead, the latest of which he followed to the University Library here in the City of Lights.
After calling it a day, Adam headed out of the musty building, planning to grab a quick dinner before heading to the run-down hotel he was calling home for his limited stay.
At least, that was what he had intended. Instead, he found himself listlessly wandering along the Seine, deeply lost in his own thoughts.
Although he touched based with Joe Dawson every few days, the mortal still had no news of Duncan MacLeod’s whereabouts, despite the best efforts of the entire Watcher organization. As frustrating as the lack of knowledge was, it really didn’t surprise Adam. The world was a big place for only a handful of people to cover. Even Amanda was helping in the search, volunteering to track down Duncan’s kinsman and fellow Immortal, Connor MacLeod, from his African safari.
As loathe as he was to admit it, Adam sorely missed Duncan. Perhaps that was why his wanderings had led him directly to the quay where the Highlander kept the barge -- the houseboat that served as MacLeod’s home whenever the Highlander was in Paris.
Adam paused on the sidewalk overlooking the river below. The barge was still locked up tight, just the way he’d found it the day after Richie Ryan’s funeral service. After two more run-ins with Ahriman-controlled Immortals, Adam’s instincts were to keep himself a safe distance away from the barge itself, just in case Ahriman had some of his lapdog Immortals waiting around for either Adam or MacLeod to put in an appearance. Testing the waters, the Immortal took a deep breath and concentrated on his quickening. Despite the fact that he could sense no others of his kind in the area, Adam decided it wouldn’t be wise to linger too long. With one last sorrow-filled look down at the weathered deck, he continued his path along the river’s edge.
Crossing over one of the city’s many bridges, the Immortal made his way past the spectacle that was Notre Dame. Before he made it to the end of the block, however, his solitary walk was interrupted.
“You know, you’re a really hard man to find.”
“Apparently not hard enough,” Adam groused to the figure that separated itself from the shadows of the cathedral’s main entrance. The unexpected appearance of this visitor had him instantly on full alert. The person was not Immortal, that much Adam could tell by the absence of the normal ‘buzz,’ and yet, this stranger obviously had been looking specifically for *him*. Deciding that the best course of action was *not* to stick around to find out more, Adam chose to ignore any further discussion and just kept on walking.
“Hey! Wait a sec! I’m here to help you!” Seeing that his words were having no effect, the man increased his volume. “I’m here to help you help MacLeod. I’ve got information on Ahriman...” Still gaining no reaction from the rapidly retreating Immortal, the stranger played his trump card. “Angel sends his regards.”
The last sentence brought Adam to an abrupt halt. Turning slowly, the Immortal wondered what the Sunnydale resident’s involvement was in all of this. Not for the first time, Adam found himself wondering if he had made a mistake in revealing his true name at the end of the letter he had sent to Angel. Had the souled-vampire betrayed the trust Adam had placed in him by disclosing his secret to the man in front of him? The stranger was obviously not a vampire, so then...
“Just who in the hell are you?” the Immortal queried.
“Why don’t we step into my office?” he offered, extending an arm towards the doorway of the church in invitation. When Adam hesitated, he was offered reassurance. “Holy Ground, remember? I’ll respect it.”
So, the other man knew about Immortal traditions. As they headed for one of the numerous alcoves in the cathedral, the stranger continued speaking. “My name’s Whistler.”
It took a second for Adam’s mind to make the connection, but he finally recalled it from his readings of Giles’ diaries. “Ah, Angel’s fairy godmother,” the Immortal clarified snidely. “You’re a demon, right? But in a good way,” he added with his trademark sarcasm.
“Somethin’ like that,” Whistler answered.
“You said you could help MacLeod, so talk,” the Immortal cut to the chase.
“Actually, what I said was: I can help *you* help MacLeod.” Seeing Adam’s obvious impatience, Whistler pressed forward earnestly. “Look, I can show you the way, but it’s up to you...”
“Oh no,” Adam interrupted, his hazel eyes rolling in contempt. “I think you have the wrong Immortal here. I don’t *do* crusades. That’s MacLeod’s territory. Besides, I’ve already done my ‘hands-on’ bit for the next...oh...thousand years or so while I was in Sunnydale.” That said, the Immortal shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the nearest exit.
“You walk away now, and you’ve just sealed MacLeod’s fate!” Whistler said loudly, earning himself a few sharp glares from worshippers in the nearby pews.
“I don’t do guilt, either,” Adam tossed over his shoulder as he kept on walking.
“Will you just listen to me?” Whistler growled as he rushed forward, grabbing the Immortal’s elbow to keep him from leaving. The powers that Whistler answered to had warned him that recruiting this particular Immortal would be his toughest job yet; but they had also insisted that he was the only one with the ability to handle the matter at hand. Personally, Whistler wasn’t too impressed. Given what he’d been told, the demon had been expecting a huge, bulking warrior-type, not the mild-mannered researcher in front of him
“It’s like this. There are twelve portents leading up to Ahriman’s release. The Legion was the ninth. You and Angel’s crew did a good job, by the way.” Whistler paused as Adam dipped his head in mocking acknowledgement of the compliment. “Unfortunately, while you guys were busy, Prophecies ten and eleven were also taking place, and for those two, the good guys got their asses kicked.”
“This is all very interesting...”
“Nah, we haven’t got to the interesting part, yet. See, with those two loses, that makes the score 6-5 in favour of the bad guys. Every time one of these Prophecies goes in their favour, Ahriman gets more powerful. You with me so far?”
“I’m listening. I don’t know why, but I’m listening.”
“We’ve got one more Prophecy coming up. If the home team wins this one, the balance between good and evil will be square. It’ll still be up to MacLeod at the end, but at least it will be a level playing field, if you see what I’m sayin’.”
“So? Find yourself another Immortal,” Adam spoke dismissively.
“No can do. They say it’s gotta be you. You’re the only one with the abilities to give you half a chance at pulling this off.”
“Oh, now there’s a ringing endorsement.”
“Look, all I know is that if you walk away without even trying, you, me, and the rest of the whole world are gonna be sucked into Hell; and your buddy, MacLeod, is gonna be first in line.” Whistler paused, seeing the effect as his words put a chink into Adam’s thick emotional armour. “You ever been to Hell? Did Angel maybe tell you a bit’a what it’s like? You...you think you’re destined to go there, don’t you? You think you deserve it for what you’ve done in the past? Maybe you do, maybe you don’t; it’s not my place to say. But can you honestly see MacLeod there? Can you really sentence him to eternal damnation on account that you want to go on living for another couple of what? Days? Weeks? Or however long we’ve got until the world ends?”
As soon as he saw Adam’s hand come up to scrub over his face, Whistler knew that he had won. It amazed the demon to realize that, after the lengthy time this particular Immortal had existed, his greatest weakness would be a Scottish Highlander he’d known for less than four years. Hearing Adam’s tired sigh of acquiescence, Whistler waited for the inevitable question.
“All right, what exactly is it that I’m supposed to do and when am I supposed to do it?”
“Actually, we’ll get started as soon as your...partner gets here.”
“Partner?” Adam parroted warily.
“Even you aren’t good enough to deal with this on your own. You’re gonna need other skills that are outside of your expertise, and there’s too much riding on the outcome to take any chances,” Whistler explained hurriedly.
“So who...,” Adam stopped suddenly when he felt the first tickle of the buzz brush against his consciousness. Craning his neck, his gaze careened around the cathedral seeking out the other Immortal he knew was nearby.
Then, despite the distance between them, he found that for which he was searching.
“Oh, you can’t be serious!” he exclaimed. One quick glance at the no-nonsense expression on Whistler’s face sent Adam into a string of curses that spanned several long-dead languages, even as he felt himself slip back into his memories.
She was as beautiful as ever, probably even more so with all the time that had passed. She carried herself with an almost regal manner, one that bordered on overly proud. It was a far cry from the sorry girl he had once enslaved with the words ‘you live to serve me, never forget that.’ He killed her time and again, forcing her to bathe him, feed him, and even share his bed. For that, she had sworn to kill him. The memory of the threat she posed brought him swiftly back in the present. Instinctively, his hand reached for his sword, not trusting her even though they were on holy ground.
Ignoring the woman walking toward them, Whistler trained his attention on the Immortal standing next to him. He found it fascinating as the disbelief on the other man’s face faded into a few heartbeats of total blankness before one of the most amazing things Whistler had ever seen happened.
That was when the half-demon realized why the powers-that-be had insisted on this particular Immortal. Even with all his own years of experience at reading other creatures, Whistler had never seen anything like it. Adam Pierson, master researcher, was nothing more than a mask -- one that was being shed like a snake ridding itself of an unwanted layer of skin right before Whistler’s very eyes.
Within the span of a single heartbeat, every conceivable aspect of the Immortal changed. From the lackadaisical slouch of the man’s shoulders to the air of semi-detachment from his surroundings, it all disappeared. The intrigued-but-reserved, slightly cautious expression faded away, instantly replaced by a face that spoke volumes of jaded wariness borne of long experience. But the most amazing difference was the eyes, the one feature that was almost impossible for anyone to significantly change. The slightly amused hazel gave way to the calculating, ancient eyes of the world’s oldest survivor.
As the woman completed her approach, Whistler saw the other Immortal’s white knuckled grip on the hilt of his sword. About to remind the pair that they were in church, the demon held his tongue when the Immortal stopped short of pulling the sword from its sheath secreted in the depths of his long trench coat.
The pair eyed each other warily for a long moment before the silence was broken by a cool, wary voice.
“Hello, Cassandra.”
The expression of pure contempt on her face was the product of Cassandra's 3,000-year-old hatred for her former captor. Almost 2,000 years his junior, being in his presence never failed to send a chill down Cassandra’s spine. For unlike most, she knew who this Immortal really was, and what he had done in the past. In her mind, he would forever be the monster on a pale white horse who, along with his fellow Horsemen of the Apocalypse, thundered across the desert steppes to butcher her tribe and force her into slavery.
In a tone that could have frozen hard liqueur, Cassandra spat out 'Adam Pierson's' true name in venomous tone that sounded more like a curse that an acknowledgement.
“Methos.”
*finis* (man, have I been waiting a long time to write that word ;-)
For those of you wanting to know more about W/A's budding relationship, stay tuned -- 'cause it will be picked up in the continuation of the Hell series!
Just some author's notes:
I’d also like to dedicate this story to Carrie and Marius.
Horatio wouldn't exist if not for their tireless beta work.
I can not thank both of them enough :-)
So there you have it folks. I’ve received a
few...disgruntled letters from the Highlander fans
out there for constantly referring to the old man as
‘Adam Pierson’, but I wanted to keep it secret for
those few Buffy fans who didn’t know his real
identity. (Yes, there have actually been a few
people who have written to ask if Adam was my own
original character -- don’t I wish ;-) I’ve also
received a few emails that this story has actually
converted a couple of people to Highlander. I can’t
think of a better compliment. Thanks!
For those of you unaware, the ‘Ahriman’ story line
was, indeed, part of the Highlander series. In fact,
this entire story came about as a way of explaining
where the in hell Methos was during MacLeod's
fight with the demon. And Methos’ on-line nickname,
ROGue, is an in-joke. ROG is short for ‘Real Old
Guy’, and is also the name of the Methos fanfic list.
I hope you have enjoyed this story as much I have
enjoyed writing it. It is, by far, the most ambitious
thing I’ve ever attempted. Thanks for sticking
with it :-) As always, all feedback -- good and
bad -- is wanted, so let me know what you thought of
my baby ;-)