Alone by Carole
I wrote Resfic! Kronos just kept bugging me until I
wrote this, which is strange because I have never
written anything with him in it before. Of course, now
Caspian wants to come back too. Sigh. Well, here it
goes before I lose my nerve.
Category : slight Methos/Kronos slashiness
Rating : Um, PG?
Notes : Brimstone xover, but you don't really need to
know the series. Thanks to Coyote for betaing and to
Killaria for reading the really rough hand written
first draft and giving suggestions.
Disclaimer : Not mine, though I live in hope.
Summary : Kronos escapes from hell... or does he?
=====
Alone
=====
Hell is oneself,
Hell is alone.
T. S. Eliot
The past few months --or was it years?-- had been hell
for Kronos, literally. I was difficult to tell. Time
didn't work quite the same way in the underworld as it
did in the corporeal one. It was longer there,
eternity in an instant, and through it all he could
only think of one thing: betrayal. After his escape,
he'd wandered for a while, avoiding both Ezekiel
Stone, the Devil's little puppet, and Asher since the
bitch didn't like competition and he'd no intension of
signing on for her crusade. He had his own plans and
why should he waste his second chance burning
churches? So, he found himself in Seacouver, watching
his last remaining brother who was oblivious to his
presence.
Revenge had been on his mind often while he dodged the
"hell hounds" on his trail. Two people had destroyed
everything and send him to hell, a place he hadn't
even thought existed. They had to pay. He'd never
really put much stock in the afterlife. Why bother?
Immortality had its benefits, and he hadn't planned on
dying for quite a long time. Of course, he had never
thought that Methos would betray him so completely
either. Oh, he'd known about MacLeod, but he'd never
realized that Methos was capable of killing a brother,
of ending things once and for all, of choosing the
Highlander over him. While Methos had lied with a
thousand other words, and glances, and touches, it
seemed that his brother hadn't lied about only one
thing. Methos had changed.
Methos was sitting in the café across the street,
flirting with his waitress, not noticing Kronos' stare
cutting the distance between them. He laughed at some
unknown joke, his whole face lighting up, leaving
Kronos enraptured. He wished he had a presence, a
quickening, to let Methos know he was there, to meet
his eyes at that instant as his plans for revenge
shattered inside. He cared too much. Methos was the
one thing in this world that really mattered. The
sudden urge to rush up to his brother, to drag him
away with him, kicking and screaming if necessary, was
overwhelming, but he couldn't do that either. He could
not condemn Methos along with himself, could not
extinguish the light in those brightly shining eyes
with an eternity of torment. Methos had dragged
himself back to the light and had a chance he didn't.
Tempting him with the past while knowing the
consequences was something he could never do.
*Good luck, brother," he wished silently across the
small, but infinite, void that separated them. It was
better this way, to leave the temptation that was
tearing him apart, to go as far from here as possible,
away from soul hunters, serpent priestesses and from
Methos. Silent as the ghost he should have been,
Kronos turned and walked unacknowledged down the dark
alley, alone.
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