For my friend, who hasn't been feeling well lately. I hope you enjoy! :)
This has been floating in my mind for a while now, actually, so I decided to finally get it out. In this world, reincarnation is a real thing, though people are reincarnated through multiple universes (i.e. if I were to die instead of turning into a cow in this universe, I would be something/someone in a different universe).
The names of Khan's friends/family I chose because I thought they sounded cool when I looked them up on the Internet; the fact that one of them is named Volkan has nothing to do with Vulcan. I apologize if it is confusing.
Ender is John's equivalent, but he has no connection to any literary or movie characters. I didn't even think about Ender Games (love that book) until after I looked it over again. Again, I am sorry for any confusion.
Enjoy! :)
Khan lingered in the back of the crowded room. Fifty people had already been hidden and more were hastily shoved through the small entrance. It was not a pleasant gathering; rather, it was one of wounded pride and panicked searching.
Their people had gone from trusted allies to hunted prey in what felt like the blink of an eye. They were all betrayed by one of their kin, Volkan. For reasons unknown even to Khan, this man spread lies throughout the planet and framed multiple innocent people of their caliber of horrific crimes.
It was sickening how easily the humans believed Volkan; it was sickening how they allowed an obviously deranged mad man adulterate all of their actions.
Now, people closest to them were betraying them to the government. Panicked humans now turned in locations and identities of those whose genetic code were superior to that of mere mortals.
Khan, who had been one of the top private investigators, was betrayed by one of his own clients. His brother, Aydin, had been betrayed by his nameless secretary. Aydin had been a trusted member of the government, utilizing his unfathomable wisdom to guide the human leaders. Zeki was a member of the police force, often working alongside Khan. He was betrayed by one of his moronic forensic investigators with a nasally voice and rat-like face. Zeki, although with much of Khan's help, had solved numerous crimes, becoming one of the most successful D.I.s in the world. He possessed all the normal superiorities of their kin, but his mundane team made Khan's help essential to their success.
Aydin stood beside Khan, hands clasped behind his back. They were the only silent ones in the crowd, though they felt the same anger, betrayal, and sadness everyone else was openly expressing. Someone wove through the crowd and burst in front of Aydin. Zeki turned and apologized to a lady he bumped into before acknowledging the brothers.
Zeki looked as though he wanted to say something, but he abstained. Instead, he stood, slightly facing the men, and stared at the doorway.
It didn't make much difference to Khan whether or not Zeki would speak; he would've ignored the well-meaning man. All of his attention was focused on his friend, Ender, and whether or not he made it to the safe house.
Ender hadn't always been the man Khan considered his brother. When they first met, Ender had been assigned to Khan for protection. Though both of them, Khan more than Ender, were adverse to working together, they slowly grew close. It was the opposite of how most relationships would develop, starting with them trusting the other with their life to ending with Ender trusting Khan to tell him the truth about whether or not he enjoyed the new recipe Ender was trying. A faint smile grew on Khan's face as he thought of Ender's numerous cooking disasters.
More people were coming through the doors, now the room held sixty-five, but none of them looked like Ender. Khan tried desperately to quell his rising panic.
"Don't worry, he'll make it." Zeki said, his attempt at reassuring Khan slicing through their tense silence. He looked at Zeki before scanning the crowd, watching their mouths move and their arms flail. If he wanted, he could eavesdrop on all of their conversations, but his ears felt as though someone had stuffed them with cotton; everything was muted and hazy. If his mind hadn't been so preoccupied with looking for Ender, he would've probably analyzed his dysfunctional senses.
Seventy people...
Everyone knew only seventy-two people could make it to the safe house since they only had that many cryotubes.
Ender suddenly entered the room; relief flooded Khan. He made his way towards the trio, politely moving through the crowd.
Upon the sight of Khan standing before him, Ender pulled him into a bear hug. Khan reciprocated, wrapping his arms around Ender and resting his head in the crook of his shoulder. Ender pulled away, nodding to Aydin and quickly hugging Zeki.
Apparently, the final person had entered alongside Ender, because a short, plump woman stood in the doorway. She clapped her hands, silencing the distraught crowd.
She led them out of the small room and down a cramped flight of stairs.
The cryotubes were lined up, ready for use. The men walked to the farthest bunch of them, seeking privacy, as everyone else was, for the goodbyes. Aydin was quiet, only making a nonchalant yet positive statement about meeting again. Zeki began telling each of them how much he appreciated them. Khan nodded though he ignored Zeki's words.
Ender joked about all of the times Aydin abducted him just to check up on Khan. He thanked Zeki for being there for not only himself but for Khan as well. He thanked Khan for everything, both little and big, that he had ever done for Ender.
Khan nodded once again, though this time he hadn't ignored the goodbye.
He insulted his brother about his clothing style, criticized Zeki's police force, but didn't say anything to Ender. He didn't know how to express his gratitude for the years Ender had been his loyal friend and roommate. Ender seemed to read something in Khan's face that couldn't be vocalized, because he just smiled and clapped Khan's shoulder.
He didn't look at anyone as he entered the cryotube, closing his eyes the moment his back touched the smooth interior.
They say that when you are in a coma, you could see your past lives. Khan had always disregarded this, along with the popular belief that reincarnation even existed.
So what if he had a past life? Did that affect his present life?
It was a stupid notion he had always mocked people for believing.
The shock was great when, in the coma-like state being in the cryotube produced, Khan began to experience his past lives.
The first vision he had was of himself as a dragon. It was a weird sensation, going from a sort of "super human" to an ancient and powerful mythological creature.
As he "grew up", Khan noticed that he couldn't change anything that he did; it was much like being on autopilot. All he could do was watch as his life unfolded before him.
He experienced overwhelming lust as his scaly ears caught wind of the great dwarf kingdom under the mountain.
He experienced extreme greed and joy as he finally made it to the rich kingdom.
He slept there too, though it was not a sleep like the one he was experiencing in the capsule. Everything felt distorted and odd, his senses reduced to human-level as he slept. Smaug (an odd name that somehow pleased Khan to possess) didn't dream yet his mind was still buzzing, alert and ever-present in the dead cave.
As all dragons do, Smaug possessed great power and strength, though the only major thing he shared with Khan was an extraordinary mind.
When he wasn't sleeping, which was rare, Smaug amused himself by breathing fire. It was astonishing to even himself how the flames could be simultaneously beautiful and deadly.
After sixty years of this slumber, he actually awoke, becoming fully aware for the first time since he had obtained his treasure trove. He knew not the reason for this unknown disturbance, but he didn't let it bother him. He was, after all, a dragon.
He was unsure how much time had passed since the end of his sleep, but one day, Smaug heard a strange noise. It sounded like scuffling and climbing. There was a muffled oof as something or someone hit the abundant gold coins. There was another odd scuffling sound before silence reigned once more. Whatever had made that noise disappeared, but Smaug was prepared should it dare return.
And return it did. For not much time passed before Smaug heard the climbing/crawling noises. Feigning sleep, he waited until the thief was foolish enough to approach. Because he was a dragon, as he feigned sleep, Smaug could see the strange creature. He was surprised when it strongly resembled Ender. The shock was enough for him to break the act for a second, but that split second was noticed by the clever creature, and it vanished before Smaug's now-opened eyes.
As they exchanged meaningless dialogue mainly consisting of the intruder frivolously complimenting Smaug, the dragon filled with pride. It did not stem from the flattering words; rather, it stemmed from the act. If anyone was to invade his dominion, Smaug was pleased that the intruder was not an idiot.
It was, however, only a matter of time before a mistake was made. In the midst of the dragon's questions of identity, a title was proclaimed that sent the dragon's mind into overdrive.
"Ringwinner you say?"
"Indeed." The voice faltered slightly, and Smaug could feel a smug smirk stretch across his face, revealing his sharp teeth.
"It appears you are not only the thief of a dragon but also a thief of Gollum."
The creature didn't verbally respond, but his pulse skyrocketed from its already alarmingly high beat. The scent of sweat did not go undetected by Smaug. The invisibility of the Ender look-a-like was no longer a mystery.
Deep in his knowledgeable dragon mind, Smaug knew of the origins of powerful rings that would've caused the quick disappearance. He also knew the pitiful story of Gollum, and he began informing the creature of Gollum and the One Ring.
Whether it was the story itself or the seductive voice all dragons were in possession of, Smaug could sense the creature relaxing. When he got to the story of the ring, Smaug could feel a new fear take hold of the little creature. As the tales came to a close, silence reigned in the cave.
Rippling into visibility, the creature tore off the ring and pocketed it. He was shorter than most men, with big hairy feet and thick curly hair. There was no longer a doubt in Smaug's mind that this creature was one of Ender's past lives.
The hobbit (for Smaug was not completely unfamiliar with these creatures) inched closer. Puzzled by his actions, Smaug tilted his head. The hairy hand was reaching for the dragon and the small toss of his head made them collide.
Overwhelming power surged through Smaug. He was keenly aware of the hobbit, more so than usual, as their minds were opened to the other. Shocked, Smaug pulled back.
The hobbit, whether ignorant of it or not, was a dragon lord. Smaug was now bound to the Bilbo (the mind-meld hadn't kept much information hidden) whether he liked it or not. Oddly enough, the power Bilbo possessed over Smaug wasn't cumbersome or overbearing. It was a bond of affection and protection, and the dragon was puzzled as to why most of his kin loathed it.
Bilbo stood, mouth agape, and stared at the dragon now under his command. Smaug was now the one inching forward as the hobbit watched without fear. Now that the hobbit was able to look at the reptile without apprehension, he saw the beauty of the gleaming red scales, lithe though massive body, and big golden eyes.
Exhausted, Bilbo collapsed on the piles of treasure. Smaug curled around the hobbit, the dragon's trapped body heat providing more warmth than a blanket.
He watched the little creature sleep for hours, staring unflinchingly at the peaceful face.
His thoughts were interrupted when he remembered that the hobbit would need sustenance. He gently removed his body from around the hobbit, and flew to the exit. He looked at Bilbo once more before leaving the cave.
He flew past a camp of dwarves, obviously the group Bilbo was traveling with, and scoured the forest for a suitable meat source. When he found a group of deer, Smaug landed and killed them all, careful not to burn them to a crisp.
He was about to fly away, when, a massive group of elves stumbled upon him. Shouting angrily, the creatures began attacking Smaug. While he was a powerful dragon, he was no match for the fifty elves that were currently attacking him, much less the rest of the group searching for the fight.
He felt the vision fading as life left the body. As soon as death had it's unbreakable hold on the dragon, Khan was thrown into darkness.
The second vision he experienced was of himself as an ordinary human. Repulsed at first, Khan slowly eased into this dramatic change. As Khan, he never needed to worry about mundane things that as a human he needed to survive and Smaug certainly hadn't even needed to think of such tedious requirements.
What puzzled him was how similar this life was to Khan's.
Sherlock (Khan liked Smaug better) started out as a young boy who desired nothing more than to be a pirate. Even as a five year old, he possessed an extraordinary mind and it soon revealed itself when he could deduce things about the gardeners working on their house's trees or the maids dusting the furniture.
His thirteen year old brother, Mycroft, was clearly Aydin. They both had the same adversion to emotions despite their obvious possession of them.
At first, Sherlock had a good relationship with Mycroft. The older brother would stoop to play Sherlock's childish games involving imaginary treasure hunts (the desire for gold coins strong though not equaling Smaug's) and ship battles. Sherlock's mind set him apart from other children, and Mycroft became his only friend. Neither of them really cared about what other people thought so long as they had the other. When Mycroft went to university and came back colder than ever, Sherlock was pushed away. Hurt beyond words, Sherlock vowed never to let anyone else get close to him.
He grew up virtually alone afterwards; his parents were never around and when they were they avoided their quirky son. Completely miserable, Sherlock began doing drugs. They were the only things that truly took away his pain.
Carl Power's murder was the start of his other form of coping, solving murders. Although he detested simple murders, he took any case he could find. Between solving crimes and doing drugs, Sherlock's mind never rested for too long on his lonely life.
He wasn't a sociopath, far from it, but he detested explaining himself to everyone. He was loath to explain that for him, deducing everything about someone at the first glance was something that came natural to him. When he first tried to explain his methods, people were either furious or pitiful. Although both were horrific for him to experience, he preferred enraging people. The ones that pitied him often thought his brilliance was a curse, and he loathed how spot-on they were.
Mrs. Hudson, a gentle mother-like woman, had found Sherlock wandering the streets and offered her home to him. He declined at first, not wanting to owe anything to anyone, but when her husband murdered her teenage daughter, Sherlock helped convict him. He wouldn't have even bothered with the case if it hadn't been for Mrs. Hudson's request. It was also how he met Lestrade. The man had been amazed at Sherlock's quick wit and, seeing an opportunity to help someone, made a deal with the young man. He could help out the police force if and only if he stayed away from drugs. It took a few days worth of thinking, but Sherlock consented, making a deal with himself that he would only do drugs when his depression became too much to handle.
Khan was amazed that Lestrade was Zeki in a past life. He was further astonished when the man who betrayed the kind D.I. was none other than Anderson, a man Khan was pleased Sherlock despised.
Five years of this arrangement passed, and life wasn't much better for Sherlock. While Lestrade was kind to Sherlock, the rest of his team despised him. All they saw was a young man doing ten times better than they were. They began calling him names that hurt Sherlock more than they knew.
It wasn't uncommon for him to think of suicide.
One day, things were going horribly for Sherlock. He went to the morgue under the pretense of an experiment and whipped a corpse as hard as he could, letting all of his frustration out on someone who wouldn't feel a thing. It struck him that he was being more humane than the idiots at New Scotland Yard, but he brushed the thought away. He wasn't trying to be humane; he was trying to survive.
Mike Stamford, a worker at St. Barts that had befriended the misunderstood detective, entered the room, followed closely by a middle-age military veteran. Intrigued and trying desperately to hide it, Sherlock asked to borrow Mike's phone under the pretext of not having his own. He was relatively surprised when the stranger offered his own instead.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?"
He was further shocked when the man didn't seem to be too angry with him for deducing about his past. Willing his heart to slow down, Sherlock casually dropped the idea of them being flat mates and the stranger, although a little taken aback, went along with the idea.
"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name."
"I know you're an Army doctor, and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan. You've got a brother worried about you, but you won't go to him for help, because you don't approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife, and I know your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly, I'm afraid. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think? The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon."
He was thrilled when the man, Doctor John Watson, had not only showed up to the flat, but accompanied him to the crime scene. The whole thing was odd and strange and oh so foreign to Sherlock but it didn't repulse him. It only made him understand why people open up to each other, though he didn't know how to do so.
All of Sherlock's depression vanished in the hours they spent solving the crime. It was strange for him to have someone not only assist him because he wanted to rather than because it was his job, but also to watch Sherlock work as though he was a genius. While Sherlock knew his mind was better than the general population, no one had ever acknowledged his brilliance without having an ulterior motive. John seemed to overflow with compliments for Sherlock, and Sherlock reveled in the knowledge that he had just allowed someone into his life for the sole purpose of companionship.
When John defended Sherlock at the pretend drugs bust, he was touched. Sure the good doctor had been wrong, but no one had ever defended Sherlock since before Mycroft went to university.
When the cabbie had been shot, he never would've thought that it had been John to kill the criminal until he was describing him to Lestrade. Shame filled Sherlock at the thought of turning in this man who had saved him, and he quickly hid his mistake.
As Sherlock began to get used to John in his life, he compared John to Ender. Like Bilbo, John bore a startling resemblance to Ender, but John was softer than Ender. Ender, although possessing extremely high levels of compassion, was more open to violence than John. John, despite his military background, seemed to avoid causing violence as much as possible.
They didn't get along wonderfully; they had their fair share of angry fights and slammed doors, but they understood each other. Sherlock didn't need to use words to communicate with John. Sherlock marveled at the man's never ending patience despite his eccentric experiments and seemingly endless faux pas.
What astounded Sherlock the most was John's praise. He never expected the man to ask how Sherlock knew all about John at first glance, much less compliment him.
He began showing his gratitude in simple ways: holding crime scene tape up for John, eating with the doctor despite his aversion to food, and playing John's favorite music on the violin.
When Moriarty strapped the bomb on John, Sherlock hadn't felt such rage or despair in his entire life. The very idea that this remarkable man would be killed just to mess with the detective blinded him with rage.
When Irene Adler shamelessly flirted with Sherlock, he was shocked when John seemed jealous. The fact that John was looking out for Sherlock beyond the criminal level touched the detective; no one had ever wanted to protect his emotions before. For the first time since they met, Sherlock understood why people desired friendship.
And then he screwed it all up when he shouted that he had no friends. Sherlock had had no idea how to make up for his refusal of friendship, so he complimented John using the first truly nice words he had ever heard, the ones the doctor told him on their very first case.
It was a desecration of the worst, to claim they were nothing more than colleagues. Average colleagues didn't lay their life on the line for each other, and certainly not on the day they first met. Sherlock felt a deep gratitude for this man, this perfectly ordinary yet somehow extraordinary man, that accepted him fully, flaws and all. It was this gratitude that made Sherlock put John first, sacrificing not only his reputation, but life as he knew it, to keep the good doctor safe.
When Moriarty gave him the option between Sherlock living and John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade dying or vise versa, he was prepared. Of course he would choose to commit suicide, but he would take it a step further. He would drive Moriarty to kill himself, fake his own death, and eliminate every last sign of Moriarty from the face of the earth.
Moriarty was obviously Volkan, and it made Khan shudder at the thought that Sherlock had been fascinated with the man who ruined his own kin's lives. He was further disturbed when Sherlock was delighted by the challenge Moriarty posed. Khan was relieved when Moriarty died; it was unnerving seeing Volkan this up close and personal.
It took three long years to complete his self-appointed task, but Sherlock accomplished his mission.
The reunion was one of shouting and crying, punches and hugs. It took years, but their easy banter and deep trust were restored.
They grew old together, never marrying anyone, just solving cases until they were too old to do so. When they could no longer go out chasing criminals, they moved to Sussex, bought an old cottage, and Sherlock took up beekeeping.
Everyone always assumed they were a couple, and they didn't bother denying them anymore. No one could understand that you didn't have to be brothers to have a brotherly bond.
Sherlock died of natural causes in his sleep, just one week after John's equally peaceful death.
Bright light hit Khan's eyes. Dazed, he allowed the arms to roughly pull him out of the cryotube. He felt something plunge into his arm, dulling his senses considerably as a group of men pulled him to a dark room.
They shoved Khan into a small cell and closed a glass wall around him.
The medicine took a few more minutes to wear off, and once it did, he scanned the room around him. It was bare and circular, his glass cage in the center of the room. Khan's superior eyesight allowed him to see strange machines cluttering the walls. He didn't bother trying to break the glass; he just stood in the center, apathetically staring at the closed door.
A few hours after his imprisonment, an old but sturdy man strode into the room.
"Name?" He barked.
"John."
"Full name?"
"John Harrison."
I know Smaug didn't die like that, but I felt like his death needed to be rewritten in order for it to flow with this story. The whole dragon lord thing was a Merlin/Eragon thing I couldn't resist adding.
Thank you for reading! This was so much fun to write!
Feedback is much appreciated! :)