Below is the first part of a crossover tale highlighting Highlander and the X-files, the two most popular fanfic topics on the web. I would appreciate some reviews and feedback before I continue on with the saga. And, of course, the rating is G
UNWAYON : part one
He walked alone the dusty road from the sleepy town of Edinbrough with his head held down. He had lived such a pleasant life the past 15 years there and was terribly sorry to see it end. But a last his wife's once raven colored hair begun to lose its glimmer and fade into a distant silvery shadow, he knew it wouldn't be long before his "death" would pull him away. He loved Alisa, as much as he had loved his other 58 wives but time was not his ally. It was his nemesis, his dark shadow, his never-ending companion. It was, in the end his only companion.
Fortunately, there seemed to be few on his kind on this new continent he found. He had stowed away as a hired guard on a prison ship headed for a place called Queensland. It was a beautiful place, tranquil and unblemished. He wondered why prisoners and other societal outcasts had the benefit of relocating here. Although, he knew, the others didn't see it as a benefit. There were no cities, no towns, nothing of substance that reminded the comfort loving europeans of their beloved homelands. But to him, it was one of the first spots to remind him of his early days. His idlic days of youth before his awareness of immortality, before the years of loneliness and isolation had eaten at his soul, before the madness of the horseman. Yes, this place was paradise and here he would be free.
Onca's people were more than friendly, and they didn't question his unusual healing abilities. They accepted him as a protector and teacher in the village. Peshon had even honored him by giving his Onca what he couldn't give her, a son. He reflected on the insemination ritual performed so many years ago as he watched the tribal elder, Fathon- his son, teaching the younger men the way of taming the sea serpents and harvesting their eggs. It hadn't been a shame for him to request help in rearing a family; Onca was more than happy to simply be his wife but she complied with his order. It had surprised him that Fathon, on of the most respected men in the tribe at the time accepted his request. Fathon reminded him of how he had cured Fathon's father of the dreaded white man's plague and of that he would be forever grateful to him. It had been a good life, so good that he had forgotten the evils of the world and the truths of his nature for so many years. Until.....
Many more englishmen and other europeans began streaming into paradise as the settlers built town and cities and ports. He warned the tribe of white man's ways so they were well prepared for their encroachment. In fact all had gone well until he saw him. Benjamin Guiture is the name he carried these days; he knew him as another foolish headhunter who believed the rumors of a great prize to the last immortal on earth. His "brothers", the horsemen, had made up the story as a way of determining who would lead their party. Their game had become a rally cry for the purposeless immortals who roamed the earth.* He believed that they were part of a fallen race, who had long ago either forgotten or were striped of understanding about why they were, what they were. That was his theory. He didn't know for sure both he knew that the game was just that, an empty game that he wanted no part of. He pitied Benjamin Guiture, and those like him because he understood their steadfast belief. It was all they had to dull the pain on loneliness and too long lived lives. He wasn't going to burst their bubble, but he didn't want a part of their ritual either. He had to leave. The tribe would be in more danger from one immortal trying to flush out a possible trophy than from the "civilization" of their homeland. But he didn't have a chance to exit quietly...
"I am Benjamin Guiture and I'm here for your head. Show yourself or I will kill one of these sniffling mortal females each minute I wait" he bellowed. The women had taken the laundry to the village stream and no one was aware that it had already been staked out. Guiture had hired several unscrupulous white men to help him pin down the women. He had no other choice but to retrieve his sword from its protected hiding place underneath the hut and go meet him. "Grandpapa!!" Onsa cried out in the affectionate term he had taught his progeny. Although if she had been his natural offspring he would have been her great great grandfather, she like the others all called him by the same name. She had gone with her mother to earn how to do the wash. She ws beginning to near the time of betrothal and her parents were trying to prepare her. He could have fallen over stricken in pain at her yell because Guiture heard the call of affection and aimed his rifle straight at her forehead. "So this mortal dame considers you to be her grandpa? How touching. Draw your sword or she will surely die first." He inhaled a strong gust of air. He was afraid this day would come which is why he had begun resharpening his skills. However, at this moment, looking into the eyes of Onsa, in to the faces of the entire village that had gathered at the river, he almost forgot how to even lift the hilt. "I am Methos and I have no quarrel with you. Leave us in peace." "PEACE? What has peace to do with us?" the immortal droned derisively. "You will fight me or they will die, starting with your precious 'granddaughter'." "Promise me that if I fail and you take my head that the tribe will not be harmed" Methos asked him, pleaded with his eyes. "What did I have to do with mortals? What do we have to do with mortals. They mean nothing to me, just hindrances and annoyances. I will not harm them after I take your head. But you better try to put up a fight. Its been a long time since I had a sparring partner." he sneered. With that statement he knew Guiture would not keep his word and would slaughter the entire tribe in his absence. With strong conviction and resolved he lifted his chest and head and ran into battle. In his mind he was no loner Unwayon, the ever bright star, but Death, the name he had arrogantly claimed so many years before. Guiture had no idea how swift his death would come.
The entire village fell to their faces as they witnessed to power of Guiture's quickening. Guiture had taken many heads in his day and consequently released a powerful surge at his demise. The europeans in the distant towns even felt the tremors of Guiture's death, coupled by the reception of the quickening by such an old immortal. The hired guns fled, leaving both their guns and horses in fear. When Unwayon reopened his eyes he saw a more terrifying sight than the gun pointed at Onsa's head. The tribe, his family were looking upon him as if he were a god, some sort of powerful creature that had come from above. "I have no powers, I am not magic" he protested in the tribe's language, vainly trying to untie the damage a single quickening had done. It was no use. He would have to leave or else condemn the tribe to vain worship. With tear in his eyes, he stole away from the village that evening. Although no one had forbade him to come, the tribal community was having a private meeting concerning the recently exposed deity in their mist.
1998
"Mulder? What are you digging up now, or should I even ask?" Scully looked down humorously at her brilliant yet misguided partner. Mulder had come to the office earlier than usually today. He had received an email for an old archeological buddy of his down in Australia. Apparently they had just found some old tribal paintings that confirmed a local superstition held by both native Caucasian and natives alike. "I know we are researching some old unresolved x-files but don't you think that a century's old myth is a bit too much?" she inquired after perusing the copy case file handed to her by Mulder. "Don't you see Scully? A beheading, the release of enough energy to cause earth tremors across the countryside? If this isn't an x-file then I don't know what one is" he stated emphatically. "well, have fun trying to interview some of the first hand witnesses. And don't forget to explain to Skinner the nation importance of such an ancient case is to the United States when you go ask him for funding" Scully retorted, a bit more smugly than usual. "I don't have to, we're already on the case" Mulder smiled. "What?" "take a look at his other file" Mulder pointed out. "In the past few years there has been a rash of unresolved Joe/Jane doe beheading, all around the global. Interpol doesn't even have a clue at whose behind them. Also, any suspects located have either turned up dead or beheaded themselves." "Recently there was a beheading in Seattle somewhat near where the President was making yet another plea of money. Of course the U.S. justice department was embarrassed to report to all the international media that they had no leads or suspects." "But how does this relate to this century's old tribal legion?" Scully inquired. "Because many of the beheading site also suffered from either mild or massive electrical damage. We even have multiple eye witness reports of seeing lighting in the middle of clear night skies, from all around the world. Something paranormal is going on here and that's why Skinner has assigned the case to us." The Mulder said with a no to coy smile "He said if anyone can close this case. its us." "He did not say that." "Well, maybe not with words, but I could tell in is eyes that's what he meant." "So where do we begin the investigation? Australia?" "No, unfortunately. My contact is sending me photographs and lithographs of all the paintings and carvings found at their dig sites. He's also sending me audios of all the colloquial testimonies collected. He has even found a name of the mythical creature encircle in light drawn in the middle of that picture." Mulder pointed. " What/ Who was he?" The Un-wa-yone, the one who shines forever as the stars..... Don't you think their reference to the stars is kind of interesting?" "Only to someone who sees aliens lurking beneath every stone unturned" Scully groaned. "So, where ARE we headed then?" "to the site of the president's last begging stand, Seacouver."
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Pound, pound, pound..." go away, leave me alone before I get up and cut off your head!" Methos growled from behind the door. "Come on Methos, we both promised Joe we would go fishing with him this morning and now its time to go!!!!", MacLeod retorted through the door. "No, you promised him that you would go fishing with him this morning. I said that I might show up at your camp sometime after ONE P.M." Methos stressed, while trying to keep his head flat against the couch pillow. "Come on Methos, Joe does ask much" Why, he though, why do I have such early bird friends? Methos pondered to himself. remind the Pesquna. Now those were my people. They never got before the full sun was in the sky. Even though their enemies used that to slaughter them all in the early morning hour, they had a lot of merit to their thinking. Methos mused to himself. "I hope you know that I brought along a tape player and a cassette of that Lawrence Welch music you love so much.... to be played a top volume until your door is opened and you are ready to go." Oh yes, Ducan's going to be spitting out river water, Methos plotted silently to himself.
*p.s. the reference Methos makes about the game being devised by his brother's is also NOT my original idea. There's a story housed in the highlander anthology that sets up that idea. It was a REALLY good one, but unfortunately I don't remember the title or the author's name. If any one out there finds it- and it is worth looking for it- please posted it among the reviews to this story. Thank you again =)