The Game 70
Edited by Karen Leigh
Talk about denial. He knew all about denial.
Trouble was, Anson had never been able to quite control his own emotions that way, and the reason he'd ended up in this situation was due in part to his inability to do much more than lash out and react. Killing that cop, JESUS. He did regret it now, of course.
Of course, who would believe him?
As he turned a corner, Anson froze. A clone - or a Mac - leaned against the wall, tears streaming down his face.
Damned if he couldn't sympathize with such pain... especially after the way Methos had just dismissed him so cavalierly. DAMN - he wanted to break down in tears himself. Just bawl his eyes out. He'd really thought that he and Methos...
Fuck it.
Just then the stranger stood away from the wall and slowly began walking towards him, noted his presence and turned away, wiping the tears from his face.
Recognizing the stranger's pain and having more than a passing acquaintance with such overwhelming hurt, Anson approached slowly. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm Anson. Anson Greene. You look... you look about how I feel just about now."
The stranger looked at Anson, questions in his eyes. "Um, I'm Gabriel," he said huskily, an expression of hope mixed with wariness in his eyes. "I'm a Mac27," he offered, apparently expecting this information to send Anson away.
Anson, however, showed no signs of being put off by Gabe's nature. In fact, he couldn't have cared less. Moving cautiously closer to Gabriel, he smiled. "What d'ya say we head to the dining hall, get a drink, and just talk?"
Gabriel tried a tentative smile. "Very well. I have access to a number of literary files - perhaps this one is appropriate: misery loves company?"
But he walked alongside Anson Greene back to the cafeteria and when the man went up to order coffee, Gabriel ordered a large chocolate sundae.
They chose a table on the far side of the room. Gabriel regarded Anson. The man indeed had a haunted, even hunted expression. Gabriel ventured, "Was it a matter of the heart, or something else? The only reason I ask is because I believe I may be suffering from a broken heart."
"Well, kid -" lord it felt so fucking good to call someone else 'kid' - "yes, it WAS a matter of the heart. Thought he loved me, y'know? And, I KNOW I loved him. I trusted him, Gabe... thought he really didn't think of me as a - a toy. Seems I was wrong on both counts."
Taking momentary refuge in a sip of coffee, Anson wondered just where he'd sleep - or, more to the point - where he'd NOT sleep tonight.
First, though - he met Gabe's miserable eyes. "You want to talk about it, Gabe? Tell me about this broken heart of yours?"
Gabe looked down, concentrating on his ice cream. "Not really ... at least not now."
"Okay," Anson replied easily. "Tell me, can you manage to find me a room for tonight? I really don't want to go back my shared room with Methos."
Gabriel looked back up hopefully at Anson. "I have a room. If you want to stay with me, that is." He stopped, and gave a little laugh. "Everyone always shortens my name to Gabe." He shook his head. Then met Anson's gaze once more. "I confess I am not looking forward to spending tonight alone, without anyone to talk to." He stopped, not wanting to burden his new acquaintance. After all, he hoped to make a new friend. It would not do to place too much upon him, particularly since Anson appeared to be suffering from a very similar problem as his own.
After a jaw-cracking yawn, Anson sighed. "I appreciate your offer. And, I think I'll take you up on it... I don't want to be alone tonight, either." He shoved his coffee cup aside and watched as Gabe did the same.
Rising to his feet, Anson yawned again. "Shall we go on and try to get a little sleep?"
Gabriel spooned the last of the sundae into his mouth. "Yes. I will be happy to show you the way." He stood and together, they left the cafeteria.
As they walked, something occurred to him. Anson had said - wait - Methos? Gabriel lowered his voice. "Not THAT Methos? The Immortal?" At Anson's affirmative nod, Gabriel said, "Our problems are perhaps more similar than we suspected. I had the misfortune to fall in love with Cory Raines. He is an Immortal too." Gabriel sighed and paused in the corridor. "I - I think that I still love him.But maybe it is foolish to-" He fell silent. It still hurt too much to talk about it.
"Why does the absence of love hurt so badly, when it is not returned?" Gabriel stared back at Anson, pleading mutely with his eyes for his new human friend to somehow explain this mystery - if he could.
Methos had pushed the microscope back and rubbed his eyes. He had the answer and now he just wanted to share it with Anson. He called out a goodnight to Richie, who was still watching over the unconscious man in the bed, and left to find Anson.
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Cory, ever mischievous, was beginning to enjoy the other man's caustic wit. One door opened onto the infirmary, and Cory half expected to see Methos, but the man wasn't there.
"This is where Methos usually hangs out. He's one of the two doctors that we seem to have on site at the moment... Of course, I don't need a doctor. I heal fast and I'm immune to most of the bugs that humans catch. It's all part of being an Immortal. Sad that Methos isn't here though. I wanted to ask him a couple of questions, but I'll catch him later."
Philip tensed in spite of himself at mention of the other Immortal. A doctor, and definitely not a conspiratorial part of whatever massive weirdness had caused them all to be created, or brought together here. He filed the knowledge away, but could only think of the expression on the man's face, the jagged lash of his energy, when they had passed each other earlier. Whatever Methos was -- whatever he was *now*, Philip amended -- and whatever answers he might have about immortality, that had confirmed for Philip all he really needed to know. "Just as well," he muttered, and strode on ahead.
Leaving the infirmary behind, the two moved to the next door along. This was beginning to grow tiresome, and Cory had been going to suggest that they go back to his room, but as Philip opened this door and Cory followed him through it, he was suddenly struck dumb.
The temple of Bokonnen ~Skip Brule's life work ~ was something from an Indiana Jones movie. Womb-like in red velvet and shiny scarlet satin, the entire room was padded, floor, walls and ceiling a testament to Skip's insanity. The room was large, and in one corner an altar rose from the cushions that covered the floor like a sea.
"Oh, fuck... They didn't hear Skip properly and gave him pillows when he asked for billows." Cory laughed and flung himself down on the bouncy, resilient surface. There was incense inthe air, and on the altar was a bhong. "We could... meditate for a few minutes before we hit the hay, if you like?" Cory reached out with one hand and tugged at Philip. "C'mon. Chill, take a hit or two. This place is just wild!"
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Methos wondered where the heck Anson had gotten to since their earlier tryst, and was full of excitement at the things that he'd discovered about the chips that were implanted in many of the clones. Hurrying around the corner, he ran full tilt into Anson and a look-a-like that he swiftly determined was a Mac 27.
"Hi, love. I was just coming to find you. I've got some information about the chips. I believe that I can screen us so that we don't transmit from them." He slipped an arm around Anson's waist and planted a smacking kiss on the angle of his jaw. "That's a big step forward."
Anson bristled and took a deliberate step away from Methos. "Do you mind?" he asked coolly. "Gabe and I were having a private conversation. I'm sure if you were that interested in telling me anything about the chips, you wouldn't have--" He stopped and shook his head. "You know what? You wouldn't get it." Smiling stiffly at Gabe he took the Mac by the elbow and started to walk away. "Come on, Gabe. Let's finish this conversation somewhere else."
"Hold on there, love. What's the matter? Have I done something to offend you?" Methos stood, temporarily at a loss, as Anson appeared to reject him. He stepped after Anson, seizing him by the shoulder. "Excuse us for a moment," he said to Gabriel. "I need to have a quick word with Anson." He turned his lover around until the two of them were eye to eye. "Come on, love. At the very least you owe me the explanation of how I've upset you. You're not still mad at me over that stupid 'Daddy' thing, are you? I thought that we were fine."
Anson's nostrils flared as he fought to hold his temper in check. "It has nothing to do with that. You just--" He looked at Gabe who was standing to the side, watching them curiously. "Gabe and I were talking about how...unreliable Immortals are. I can't say that I disagree." Turning his attention back to Methos, he tried to maintain his ire as he took in the other man's puzzled expression, but he felt it slipping the longer he held Methos' eye.
"Methos, when you just took off like that..." Anson looked down at his feet; unable to keep a clear head the longer he stared at his lover. "I try to believe you when you tell me how much you care about me, but I can't help getting angry sometimes when it feels like you take me for granted. I get angry and I do stupid things." He glanced at Gabe apologetically. "I say things I don't mean."
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Philip doubted that a few tokes from the Holy Hookah could match the rush of Cory's hand closing around his wrist. He offered no resistance, allowing himself to be pulled down into the nest of cushions to lie close beside Cory. Despite the knot of excitement forming low in his stomach, the energy dancing across his skin, he closed his eyes and sighed in sheer contentment.
Then sat up abruptly. Spared the garish decor, he found that reclining peacefully amid the scented air of the empty sanctuary reminded him far too much of yet another thing he didn't want to think about. Drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them, he gazed pensively at the almost dancing-bodhisattva pose of what must have been barefoot Bokonnon himself on the hanging that dominated the opposite wall, before leaning to rest his forehead against his thighs.
"You know what your trouble is, Philip? You think too much." Cory grinned lazily at him from his position amongst the cushions. Bonelessly relaxed as any cat, Cory reached to touch the finely freckled skin of one elegantly turned wrist. "C'mon. Life isn't a tragedy. It's a comedy. So there are prat falls... but we do it for the laughs, don't we?"
Rustling, and a hand resting lightly on his arm. Philip looked up, to find Cory regarding him intently. Hesitating only briefly, he let himself be drawn back down, a broad, slow smile answering the question in the Immortal's eyes.
Slowly, Cory pulled Philip to him among the cushions, and began to massage the other's stiff shoulders, digging his thumbs into knotted flesh that betrayed its tension in the sharpness of the pain that ensued. As he continued to work on Philip's shoulders, Cory could feel the gradual relaxation as his fingers banished the tight knots from muscles that felt pleasantly firm beneath his probing hands.
After a long period without any sound other than the occasional appreciative groan from Philip, Cory slid a hand around beneath Philip's chin and raised it until the man was looking back at him.
"Forget all the shit. Forget all the stupid stuff. Enjoy life." Cory's voice was huskily intimate, and he punctuated his words with tiny brushes of his lips across Philip's. "Life's like a fairground ride. It costs you to get on, and then you're out of control. Go with it, kid. Enjoy the fuck out of it. Once it's gone, you don't get it back. Sure there's something new, but what's done is over and gone."
Cory slid his fingers through the fine, feathery hair of his look-alike, and slowly leant forward to place his mouth against Philip's. The buzz intensified, bubbling over their skin like soda, brushing sensitive nerve endings as Cory continued his calculated assault on his companion's remote attitude. When he released Philip again, he felt almost intoxicated, and laughed gently as he lay back again, pulling Philip towards him.
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Jess panted softly as Roy dug his hands into her ruff and scratched. She looked up and he was smiling gently down at her. Michael was gripping her around her middle and Baines; closest to the other door was scritching her back over her tail. She felt loved and cared for and her muscles relaxed a trifle.
No one tried to speak over the noise of the blades as the small craft took them to safety.
In the distance, they heard a loud, echoing whomp sound and dust filled the sky behind them.
It wasn't long before the compound was in sight and a group of heavily armed androids stood waiting for them to land.
The Mac27 pilot had radioed ahead of their arrival and his passenger complement but the compound was taking no chances.
When the helicopter was safe on the ground, Roy opened the door on his side and Jess leapt out and gave herself a good shake. Roy followed her out. The others all exited through Leigh's door.
"I think food is our number one priority here. Let's go to the dining room first." Baines said, as he walked through the group of Mac27's, who looked each individual over carefully as they passed.
The tired troop entered the building and strode in single file to the dining room. One after another they started filling their trays. Jess hung back, trembling slightly with fatigue, as Roy asked the new chef for some raw steaks to go with the things he was piling on a very large tray. When the others moved over to a large table, Roy, with Jess leading the way, headed out of the dining room.
No one spoke for a long time as each concentrated on replenishing their bodies depleted fuel.
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"Anson, look at me." Methos stood gazing impassively into the stormy eyes of his lover. "I thought that we talked. I thought that you were happy with the way that I feel about you. Was I wrong?"
Anson started to speak, then shook his head and looked down at his feet. "No," he finally whispered. "You weren't wrong. I'm..." He exhaled sharply and raised his head, looking at Methos with defiance and chagrin warring in his eyes. "I'm sorry, okay? I can't help it when I act like this. I don't want to be a jerk to you, but I... I get scared sometimes and I feel like a completely different person." Giving Methos a small smile, Anson shrugged and looked past him down the hallway. "So what were you doing anyway?"
He raised a hand to cup Anson's cheek momentarily. "I've solved the problem of how to block the transmissions from that chip that you have in your neck. You don't need to have it removed. I can render it useless to the ones that put it there. Come to the infirmary and I'll fix it for you. I wish that you wanted to come back to the room with me afterwards, but if you don't then I guess that I can respect that."
"Methos..." Anson sighed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Don't be like that. Just forget I can be an asshole."
Leaning forward, Methos brushed Anson's lips with his own, and turned to head back towards the clinic and the apparatus he'd set up there.
Nodding at Gabe to follow, Anson walked behind Methos as they headed back to the infirmary. Methos went to stand at a table where he'd apparently been working before and was looking over equipment that Anson couldn't and didn't particularly want to understand. "Is that what's going to help with my chip?" he asked quietly, moving behind Methos and slipping both arms around his waist. He kissed Methos' ear and nuzzled his neck, still seeking forgiveness for his earlier behavior.
"This is it, Anson-love." Methos smiled, relief evident on his face as he felt the strong arms encircle his waist. "Wanna sit down and I'll make sure that the damned thing doesn't cause you any further inconvenience." He rubbed his rough cheek against Anson as the other man took a seat beside the table.
"This isn't going to hurt, love." There was a moment's pressure, and then a faint prickling that faded almost instantly. "There. That ought to do it. I'll get the rest of them tomorrow. For now, you're my main concern." Methos smiled down at the young man who had come to mean so much to him. "I shouldn't leave just yet. I'm waiting for Richie over there to finish some tests he's doing for me. Wanna stay and keep me company?"
"You'd better believe it," Anson said softly, standing up and pulling Methos into his arms. "Thank you for finding out how to help me...to help us," he sighed and slid his arms around Methos' waist, pulling him closer. "Wanna see how I like to kill time?" he grinned, feeling completely secure, at least for the time being, as he leaned in and kissed his lover.
Suddenly, the sounds of people entering the infirmary caught their attention and they turned to see a woman and three men come in. Anson watched with casual interest as Gross spoke to the other three about restraints and confinement. After some more discussion, the Mac pulled out a gun and held it on Hobbes and Marita. Anson turned his attention back to Methos. "Unless you want to get involved, let me know if it looks like we're going to get shot, okay?" he snickered and kissed Methos again. "Come on Gabe." The three of them sidled out of the room.
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Though Gross had tried to portray an air of confidence that Wraith had been disabled by his action, he wasn't sure how effective it would be on a creature that wasn't 100% Mac27. Possibly Wraith's humanmind could bypass or even reboot the Mac27 brain area. So it was with a sense of relief that he carefully deposited Wraith's still unconscious body in the sickbay and sent a mental message out for a technician to come and reactivate the cyborg. He'd debated simply taking him to the Mac27 repair workshop, but it seemed prudent that the work should take place where his organic vital functions could be monitored.
Hobbes and Marita had been clinging to his side like glue throughout the journey chattering to themselves. It was obvious that they cared for this creature, and neither seemed to hear his reassurances that Wraith would recover, totally unharmed.
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why did you allow me to make love to you?
what is it that humans say? something about the spirit being willing but the body being weak?
demon, most beautiful of all Lucifer's childer...
Suddenly, the remembered flash of an image...a longing so intense...a memory of pain and a sense of loss, of profound loneliness...One, thinking that he'd lost his David forever to her; and Sypher, knowing that there was enough room in her heart, wanting to welcome him in...mourning his leaving before having the chance to...sweet elation when he'd returned...an elation David had shared, still afraid, but accepting the fact that he needed One...needed her...needed them both...
you are impulsive, sypher, but you are most certainly not a child...
you are worth every complication you've brought to my life...
i will not give you up, but there may room for someone we both trust as well...
it isn't what you think...
when is the crisis ever past, demon?
are all concubines so disrespectful?
unless our renewed acquaintance is considered in the analysis of luck...
do you understand the meaning of the word brat?
we need to decide what to do about you, love...
we will need you...
i do not wish him to feel coerced...
what is his life worth to you?
we do not have time to delay...
I Am Your Concubine. I Will Not Let You Drown.
David, I love you. Hold on to that for me. Remember it. The thought was lost in the maelstrom of their connection as Sypher replayed her most precious memories of David in her own mind...that first meeting, from the slight surprise and hesitancy as he responded to her hello kiss, to the fierce sweetness of his passion as he'd taken her again and again, to the passion they'd shared a short eternity ago--not only with each other but with One as well.
But now David and One were locked together, and she had no idea of how to separate them without doing permanent damage to one or both of them.
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