FIC: Judge Not (Firefly/Highlander)
Title: Judge Not
Characters: Methos from Highlander, River from Firefly. Set after Serenity, but no real spoilers for that.
Disclaimer: The Firefly universe belongs to Joss Whedon et al. Highlander belongs to Davis/Panzer et al. I'm only borrowing and will return them at the end of the fic.
Author's Note: remydesire wanted a River/Methos story. ( Ficlette Fiasco III master list found here). This story references Methos's ride with the Four Horsemen timeline in Highlander.
Word count: 1,419 or so
Summary: Methos has something River wants. Methos is something River wants.
~*~
The first time Methos saw her, she was sitting at the bar, alone. He didn't think anything of it.
The next time he looked up, she was still there. Still alone. This little slip of a girl, sitting unarmed at the bar, alone.
With none of the disreputable men around bothering her.
And she was staring right at him.
She wasn't Immortal, Methos knew that. But there was something very disconcerting about her gaze, something almost familiar.
He lowered his eyes back to his book, trying to come up with some way to get the hell out of the dingy bar without having to deal with that little girl.
The scrape of the chair seemed louder than it was. "I'm River," the girl said earnestly, sitting gracefully across the table from Methos.
He gave her a look, loading as much boredom and sarcasm in the expression as he could. "I'm reading."
The girl leaned forward, hands clasped on the tabletop. "The words run together on the page, alive as you lived them." She smiled distantly. "I want it."
"It's not for sale." Methos closed the book with one hand, and with the other went to pick up his steel chopsticks to finish his meal.
The girl laid her fingers on his wrist. She wouldn't know it, but it was the perfect angle to break his bones if she added just the right amount of pressure. Although, as Methos looked up into her eyes, it might not have been an accident after all.
"You don't need it," she whispered in a tone of voice that sent chills down his back, as she let go of him and drew her hand back. "You won't forget."
Suddenly, Methos remembered why her gaze seemed so familiar. The girl was looking at him with Cassandra's eyes. Seer's eyes.
Alarm bells went off in his head, and it took him a whole ten seconds to realize that he wasn't feeling Cassandra's ghost, but the sensation of another Immortal walking into the bar.
"Leave," Methos said shortly to the girl, but it was as if she didn't even hear him.
Markus Bowloski, or whatever the hell he was calling himself this century, was making his way over to Methos's table. Methos could have sworn he'd heard of Markus's death back on Old Earth. Meeting him here on the outer Rim was a little unfortunate, seeing as how he hated Methos.
Markus stomped up and laid his hands on the table. "Adam," he sneered under his breath, a feral grin on his face. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Really?" Methos asked as he laid down his chopsticks.
"We've got some unfinished business," Markus said. As a punctuation, he spat into Methos's rice. "And then, I'm going to have a little fun with your girl here."
As Markus reached up to touch the girl's hair, she bowed her head and reached one hand across the table toward Methos's wrist, as if she was seeking comfort.
Markus chuckled. Methos didn't. He could see River's face.
Quicker than thought, River plucked one of the steel chopsticks off the table and twisted around to slam it through Markus's ribs, directly into his heart. He made a gurgling noise, eyes going wide and fearful as his heart struggled to beat around the foreign object.
River deftly slipped out of her chair and deposited Markus into the chair, draping his upper torso over the table as he died.
Methos found himself up and out of his chair, backing away from the girl. She bent over the corpse, pretending to be concerned. She appeared to take his pulse, but only Methos saw her pull the blood-covered chopstick out from between the dead man's ribs and drop it on his lap. "Another fainting spell," she announced, standing up and casting a gaze around the bar. All the watchers quickly went back to their drinks.
"Right." Methos wanted to go for his sword, wishing to the gods that he'd thought to replace the gun he'd lost on Persephone. River didn't know that Markus would come back to life in a little while; she'd just stabbed him like it was nothing.
"Not nothing," River contradicted. "A step in the life, moving like a pebble in an avalanche." She looked down at Markus, a shudder passing over her thin frame. "He liked to hurt little girls."
As much fun as interacting with the Seer was, Methos wanted to be as far away from Markus as possible before the other Immortal woke. He grabbed his duffle and his jacket from the side of the table. He was about to pick up his book when River laid her hand on the cover.
Methos stared down at the girl, her wide eyes now totally unfamiliar. "Look, kid--"
"Not a kid," she contradicted quietly. "Not a girl, not a person, just a thought. A memory."
"Whatever," Methos said, feeling way too old for this crap.
"Please," she whispered.
Methos clenched his jaw. He had to leave, now. He didn't have time to argue with crazy little murderous girls. And she was right; he'd never forget what was in that book; one of his journals that he'd carried for so many centuries. "Fine," he muttered, pulling on his jacket. "Take it. Now will you leave me alone?"
River let out a breath and swayed for a movement. "It never leaves you alone," she said as she picked up the book. "It's always there."
Methos gave the girl one last look. "Right." Then he turned and got the hell out of the bar as fast as he could.
~*~
River made her way back to Serenity before the Captain and Zoe returned from meeting their contact. Her way through the dirty streets was littered with broken bones and burning tongues, and not a soul knew what she had done.
The book was carried delicately in her arms, more precious than a babe in arms babe in arms, babe with arms, arming little girls with sticks and nails and screams so the big bad wolf stays away.
She slipped silently into the ship. Jayne didn't hear her, he never did. Simon and Kaylee loud thoughts easy to miss were busy. No one saw as the River flowed up the steps to the bridge, silent and deadly.
Taking a moment to say hello to Wash's dinosaurs, River placed the book in a place of honour on the console, and took a moment to breathe. He had carried the book so long, it echoed with thoughts, moving as deep as the silent sea, older than water or rock or thought.
"River!" the Captain's voice came over the com from the cargo bay. "Light her up, we're good to go."
Automatically, River punched buttons and flicked switches, feeling Serenity respond to her touch like a purring cat, content with her lot in life. The ship lifted into the air, and River's mind went quiet as the ship flew up into the sky, out of the world, and into the black.
He remembered the first time, seeing space up close. The memories in the book scurried into River's head, showing her people long dead, places since blown to dust. Pain and life and love and loss and anger and war and death, flowing like a river in the quiet.
When the ship was safely on course, River wiped cold tears off her face and reached again for the book. Reverently, she opened the cover, and smiled as she ran her fingers over the writing in a language she couldn't understand, letting the memories flow into her.
And he rode a white horse, and they called him Death. They called her Death, too, and her horse was imaginary, but she could strike out and deliver false judgment to all those around her. She judged, but who would judge her?
She looked up at the monitors, seeing a crystalline sunset over a house of God in Paris, with Alexa, love and sadness mixed in her heart.
He was Death, and he judged. He'd given her his book, after she stopped that bad man, if only for a few minutes. She could still feel the jolt in her arm as she killed, steel grating against bone. She was Death, and she judged, but who would judge her?
One day, she would find him again, and lay at his feet, her crimes on display for all to see, and she would ask him to pick up arms.
She would ask to be judged.
--fin
Characters: Methos from Highlander, River from Firefly. Set after Serenity, but no real spoilers for that.
Disclaimer: The Firefly universe belongs to Joss Whedon et al. Highlander belongs to Davis/Panzer et al. I'm only borrowing and will return them at the end of the fic.
Author's Note: remydesire wanted a River/Methos story. ( Ficlette Fiasco III master list found here). This story references Methos's ride with the Four Horsemen timeline in Highlander.
Word count: 1,419 or so
Summary: Methos has something River wants. Methos is something River wants.
~*~
The first time Methos saw her, she was sitting at the bar, alone. He didn't think anything of it.
The next time he looked up, she was still there. Still alone. This little slip of a girl, sitting unarmed at the bar, alone.
With none of the disreputable men around bothering her.
And she was staring right at him.
She wasn't Immortal, Methos knew that. But there was something very disconcerting about her gaze, something almost familiar.
He lowered his eyes back to his book, trying to come up with some way to get the hell out of the dingy bar without having to deal with that little girl.
The scrape of the chair seemed louder than it was. "I'm River," the girl said earnestly, sitting gracefully across the table from Methos.
He gave her a look, loading as much boredom and sarcasm in the expression as he could. "I'm reading."
The girl leaned forward, hands clasped on the tabletop. "The words run together on the page, alive as you lived them." She smiled distantly. "I want it."
"It's not for sale." Methos closed the book with one hand, and with the other went to pick up his steel chopsticks to finish his meal.
The girl laid her fingers on his wrist. She wouldn't know it, but it was the perfect angle to break his bones if she added just the right amount of pressure. Although, as Methos looked up into her eyes, it might not have been an accident after all.
"You don't need it," she whispered in a tone of voice that sent chills down his back, as she let go of him and drew her hand back. "You won't forget."
Suddenly, Methos remembered why her gaze seemed so familiar. The girl was looking at him with Cassandra's eyes. Seer's eyes.
Alarm bells went off in his head, and it took him a whole ten seconds to realize that he wasn't feeling Cassandra's ghost, but the sensation of another Immortal walking into the bar.
"Leave," Methos said shortly to the girl, but it was as if she didn't even hear him.
Markus Bowloski, or whatever the hell he was calling himself this century, was making his way over to Methos's table. Methos could have sworn he'd heard of Markus's death back on Old Earth. Meeting him here on the outer Rim was a little unfortunate, seeing as how he hated Methos.
Markus stomped up and laid his hands on the table. "Adam," he sneered under his breath, a feral grin on his face. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Really?" Methos asked as he laid down his chopsticks.
"We've got some unfinished business," Markus said. As a punctuation, he spat into Methos's rice. "And then, I'm going to have a little fun with your girl here."
As Markus reached up to touch the girl's hair, she bowed her head and reached one hand across the table toward Methos's wrist, as if she was seeking comfort.
Markus chuckled. Methos didn't. He could see River's face.
Quicker than thought, River plucked one of the steel chopsticks off the table and twisted around to slam it through Markus's ribs, directly into his heart. He made a gurgling noise, eyes going wide and fearful as his heart struggled to beat around the foreign object.
River deftly slipped out of her chair and deposited Markus into the chair, draping his upper torso over the table as he died.
Methos found himself up and out of his chair, backing away from the girl. She bent over the corpse, pretending to be concerned. She appeared to take his pulse, but only Methos saw her pull the blood-covered chopstick out from between the dead man's ribs and drop it on his lap. "Another fainting spell," she announced, standing up and casting a gaze around the bar. All the watchers quickly went back to their drinks.
"Right." Methos wanted to go for his sword, wishing to the gods that he'd thought to replace the gun he'd lost on Persephone. River didn't know that Markus would come back to life in a little while; she'd just stabbed him like it was nothing.
"Not nothing," River contradicted. "A step in the life, moving like a pebble in an avalanche." She looked down at Markus, a shudder passing over her thin frame. "He liked to hurt little girls."
As much fun as interacting with the Seer was, Methos wanted to be as far away from Markus as possible before the other Immortal woke. He grabbed his duffle and his jacket from the side of the table. He was about to pick up his book when River laid her hand on the cover.
Methos stared down at the girl, her wide eyes now totally unfamiliar. "Look, kid--"
"Not a kid," she contradicted quietly. "Not a girl, not a person, just a thought. A memory."
"Whatever," Methos said, feeling way too old for this crap.
"Please," she whispered.
Methos clenched his jaw. He had to leave, now. He didn't have time to argue with crazy little murderous girls. And she was right; he'd never forget what was in that book; one of his journals that he'd carried for so many centuries. "Fine," he muttered, pulling on his jacket. "Take it. Now will you leave me alone?"
River let out a breath and swayed for a movement. "It never leaves you alone," she said as she picked up the book. "It's always there."
Methos gave the girl one last look. "Right." Then he turned and got the hell out of the bar as fast as he could.
~*~
River made her way back to Serenity before the Captain and Zoe returned from meeting their contact. Her way through the dirty streets was littered with broken bones and burning tongues, and not a soul knew what she had done.
The book was carried delicately in her arms, more precious than a babe in arms babe in arms, babe with arms, arming little girls with sticks and nails and screams so the big bad wolf stays away.
She slipped silently into the ship. Jayne didn't hear her, he never did. Simon and Kaylee loud thoughts easy to miss were busy. No one saw as the River flowed up the steps to the bridge, silent and deadly.
Taking a moment to say hello to Wash's dinosaurs, River placed the book in a place of honour on the console, and took a moment to breathe. He had carried the book so long, it echoed with thoughts, moving as deep as the silent sea, older than water or rock or thought.
"River!" the Captain's voice came over the com from the cargo bay. "Light her up, we're good to go."
Automatically, River punched buttons and flicked switches, feeling Serenity respond to her touch like a purring cat, content with her lot in life. The ship lifted into the air, and River's mind went quiet as the ship flew up into the sky, out of the world, and into the black.
He remembered the first time, seeing space up close. The memories in the book scurried into River's head, showing her people long dead, places since blown to dust. Pain and life and love and loss and anger and war and death, flowing like a river in the quiet.
When the ship was safely on course, River wiped cold tears off her face and reached again for the book. Reverently, she opened the cover, and smiled as she ran her fingers over the writing in a language she couldn't understand, letting the memories flow into her.
And he rode a white horse, and they called him Death. They called her Death, too, and her horse was imaginary, but she could strike out and deliver false judgment to all those around her. She judged, but who would judge her?
She looked up at the monitors, seeing a crystalline sunset over a house of God in Paris, with Alexa, love and sadness mixed in her heart.
He was Death, and he judged. He'd given her his book, after she stopped that bad man, if only for a few minutes. She could still feel the jolt in her arm as she killed, steel grating against bone. She was Death, and she judged, but who would judge her?
One day, she would find him again, and lay at his feet, her crimes on display for all to see, and she would ask him to pick up arms.
She would ask to be judged.
--fin