The Dragon Recycled

Author's Notes: Okay, this story was originally thought up during the summer on a local BBS in my hometown approximately four years ago. I had this idea of a massive chain post, where everyone would add 5 lines to the post above. Unfortunately, there were only two of us who played the game. So this story, idea wise is 80% Blackthorne and 20% Mulder, a friend and ex of mine. I submitted it into a fanfiction contest and it won the Dragon Library Fiction Contest 1998, in the category of Wheel of Time Humour, Ages of Future and Past. Please excuse for the bumpyness at the beginning; it was a multi-post collaboration (originally anyway). Read and enjoy! It's parody, so it's not supposed to stress the grey cells *too* much.

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Fudge (named by the Crate'tor when he made them; he said, "Oh, fudge." When he saw what he did). The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

The wind swirled lazily down the mountains to the city of Rafo. Through the streets it wandered, looking for the perfect victim to blow off their hat or if it was lucky, blow up a dress. It found the perfect target; a man on a street corner wearing a trenchcoat. With glee, it plummeted from the sky to strike the man dead on. Then it saw who the man was and ran away yelping in terror. That wind was never seen again in the world. Some say it went mad and hid in the Ways. Others think it fled to Cuba for amnesty. Believe what you will, for this tale is not about that wimpy piece of wind, but the man who oozed with danger.

The man stood on the corner, scanning the street eagle-eyed, looking deep into the alleys nearby. He was looking for something, someone. He himself did not know why; only that it must be done. A slight movement on the ground caught his attention. He whirled to face the movement, his long black trenchcoat flaring with his turn. It was a woman, crawling on the glassy pavement among the refuse. There was something familiar about her face, something about her that tugged the man's memory.

He walked towards the woman, a disregard for caution in his large strides. Ah. He saw her face more clearly now. An Aes Sedai. There was no calmness now, in the tears and blood that ran down her ageless cheeks. Her eyes pinned themselves on his.

"Please..." She struggled for words. "You must help me..."

He knelt down to the Aes Sedai's mangled body. "'Must' is not a word you should use too often now, Sister." He chided her as he looked through her scarce belongings. Finally, he found what he was searching for. He held the medallion so that she could see it, but her eyes were already glazed over. He made a sound of impatience. Now he had no idea where she had received the token from, or if she was one of the members herself. She had probably taken poison before he found her; Lightfriends were like that, doing anything to avoid being questioned.

Turning the metal around and around in his palm as he walked back into the street, he thought about the past. The ancient enemy, the Flame of Tarvalon seemed to burn in his hand. He thought about the rebels, those who denied the Great Lord's power, the last living shards of the Light. He thought about in particular one of those fools. He shook his head; no use worrying about something you can't change. She never changed her mind once she had it made. That was something he had learned long ago.

Suddenly, a car came speed down the street. Towards him. He jumped quickly to the side, but he knew it was too late to avoid it. His eyes shut themselves as the car collided. Pain. He opened his eyes. Nothing broken, only blood and scratches. The car had stopped down the road. A silhouette of a woman with long hair yelled out the window. "Are you alright?"

He took a quick breath. It could not be...But he was sure it was... "Celeste?" He called out to the woman. "Is that you?" As he walked past an alleyway identical to the one he had left, an arm with a heavy board lashed out and struck him unconscious.

As he slowly and painful recovered from his unnatural sleep, he found he was bound in a chair. The room was empty of all furniture except for him and the chair. Funny; why was that unusual? Why was there supposed to be furniture in this room? Where had he seen it before? A small dint in the wall near the floor gave him the answer. This was his room when he was a child, living at his parents' house. He remember the kick that had lead to the mark, which he had done miracles to conceal from his parents. They had little tolerance for such irrational behaviour.

A kick to open the door revealed his captor. Tall, red haired and shamelessly beautiful, this was the Celeste Larouge he remembered. Her smile as she walked towards him showed that she hadn't forgotten him either. "Isn't this an unusual way to say hello to an old friend?"

She stopped at hand away from him, still smiling.

"This isn't a hello, dear."

She was wearing nothing but a white fur coat and long heels that added to her over-abundant sensuality. He tried his best to concentrate on the hair, just the lovely long hair that he still had fond memories of brushing out while sitting on her bed, before... He put an end to that line of thought.

"Then what is this, pray tell."

"This is a ... retraining session." Her smile grew wider, if that was possible. "You will serve the Light."

He shook his head involuntarily. Celeste had always been one to bend the rules, but this was crazy.

"Celeste, listen to me. It's not too late. You can return with me to the company. Boss will get you into a training program and in no time we'll be working together like we were before." Her eyes were fixed on his lips, as if she didn't understand the words he was saying. "I miss you. We all miss you. You were one of the best Hounds in the Pack." He couldn't take out the pain he felt in his voice. He truly did miss her; some days he even thought he might love her, but she was always too greedy, wanting more than what the Great Lord gave.

For a small beautiful moment, she seemed to consider his offer. Then a slap rebounded in his head.

"How dare you make me even think about joining the Shadow! The Great...Crate'tor take you!"

A knife appeared in her hand. It shone too white for the light that shined in golden through the dust motes in the air. Fear ran up his spine. He had to distract her.

"Celeste, what did you do to my parents?" He thought he already knew; the Great Lord burn her! The smile reappeared.

"They were not willing to let me borrow their house. I had to introduce them to my little knife here." She smile turned cruel. "Do you want to see them? I haven't had the time to bury them yet. They're in the basement."

That struck home. With great rage, he leapt out of the chair. He tried to at least; the bonds still held him tight. But the One Power flickered just beyond his reach. He embraced the Source and held it with no emotion on his face. She knew as well as he did how to read body language. He knew that it was dangerous to channel without training, but killing her...would be worth the risk. Undoing a mistake he made long ago.

She laughed, oblivious to the certainty of her doom.

"Oh, you have not changed, Randle Thorn Reborn. I know you." Her smile turned cat-like. " I see you."

This was crazy. She had to be insane. Randle Thorn was the man who had released the Great Lord, bringing forth the Shadow to consume the world. He had also sealed his companions with the Crate'tor at the crater at Shayol Ghul, before falling to the madness that existed on saidin. He had channeled too much before receiving the Great Lord's gift.

"You're insane, Celeste. I'm no Dragon Recycled. The Dragon Recycled is just a myth."

According to the myth, the Dragon, in fact all Taverens were like beer cans: bought, used up, then crushed and thrown into the Blue Box for the Wheel to make new beer cans and more beer. Apparently, the more Taverens there were in the world, the more the Pattern swayed drunkenly in the wind. It did make sense in its own crooked way, but he was no Dragon Recycled.

"Am I?" She smiled as if she had had more than one Taveren...um, beer can during the day. He prepared the weaves he knew were necessary for a shield. It looked like this was going to be done the hard way. Suddenly, a knock sounded from the front door.

Celeste made a noise.

"Stay there, darling, until I return. Remember, I'm the one who sees with her heart."

With those words that surely indicated the sickened state of mind she was in, she left, the dagger concealed somewhere in that fur coat. He shivered; time to make his escape. He was still angry about his parents' deaths, but he did not dare to stop and mourn them yet. Survival was the first lesson a person learned in this world.

As easy as pie, he was free, Healed and moving his muscles, cramped from the abuse. He heard the unmistakable sound of heels on the floor, near his room. With haste, he made a gateway to Travel. Somewhere, anywhere far from this strange creature. It winked out of existence as Celeste and another woman walked in.

Celeste stood, mouth open as she saw the cut ropes and no body.

"Madam X, I cannot explain this! He was here, until you knocked..."

"Silence, child." The other woman used her voice like another would use a whip. "You have failed us miserably. You will be punished." The woman smiled. "I will enjoy this, although I doubt you will."

It was now time for Celeste's turn to shiver.

A few hours later, a fly flew in through a cracked window. The room was empty except for a chair, a white fur coat and a medallion with the ancient symbol of the female Aes Sedai of Tarvalon engraved on it. Empty of everything except the blood the fly could sense in the cracks of the floorboards. It flew out of the room. A woman absent-mindedly swatted at it. She frowned and a small flow of Air crushed it. She would find this young man and make him see the Light if it was the last thing that she did. Or she would crush him like an insect. She laughed as she opened a gateway, the Crate'tor would be free soon and immortality hers.