disclaimer: jq:tra belongs to hb. no profit is made from this venture.

author's note: again, this series is in no chronological order. it doesn't matter which you read first. the category for this series will differ depending on which episode.

I took liberties in regards to the appearance of the three fates. I know they're supposed to be three old crones, but in this fic, Clotho has the look of a young teenager, Lachesis has the appearance of a woman in her twenties or thirties while Atropos remains an old woman.

for this one, the info I got are few and scattered in between so I made up some of them.

warning: language

************************************************************************

Acts of Fate by Akane-Rei

It was said that the destiny of mankind is woven in a loom by the three Fates: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Clotho, the maiden, uses her nimble fingers to decide which course each human thread will take in its lifetime. Lachesis, the mother, decides on the length each human thread will have for its lifetime. And Atropos, the crone, cuts the thread, ending the life of a mortal . . .

Episode 2: Atonement

"This is a beautiful thread," said Lachesis admiringly. "The colors are so vibrant . . . it deserves to be part of the tapestry for a significant time."
Atropos squinted her eyes and looked closely at what held Lachesis' attention for the last ten minutes. "Hmmm . . ." she murmured. "You might be right at that. It will liven up the pattern."
Lachesis smiled. "This thread shall be a long one," she said, talking to herself. She unwound it from its ball and began measuring for the length.
Atropos grabbed her scissors and waited patiently for Lachesis to finish her part of the work. She cackled. Clotho would love this thread. The wonders she could do with it . . . She was contemplating on the possibilities of such work when she felt herself shoved from behind. She gasped, trying to regain her balance when she saw the blades of her scissors touch the thread Lachesis so admired.
No, she thought.
"NO!" shouted Lachesis. She looked in horror as the thread she so prized was cut midway.
Both turned to look at the perpetrator who caused this tragedy.
Clotho looked inquiringly at them. "I'm sorry a bumped into you Atropos," she apologized. "I was running and I tripped --"
"Do you know what you've done!" shouted Atropos.
Clotho finally looked at what both Fates held in their hands. "Oh what a beautiful . . ." she began, when she saw the reason for their anger. "Oh," she said quietly.
Lachesis started to cry. "What a waste," she said. "What a waste."
Clotho approached her and took the thread from her hands. She held it reverently in her hands as she slowly walked towards her loom.
She started to weave.
"I'll make it up to you," she whispered, but with great determination as her fingers began their magic. "I promise."

********************************

One regret, she thought, as she looked back in her life. Only one regret.
Now, not many people can say that once faced with their own mortality, but she can. Her life had been lived to the fullest, one adventure after another. And within all that, her family and friends.
She started to sob. One regret, she thought again. Only one.
She had been blessed. She belonged to a family that loves her, supports her, cherishes her. All her life, not a moment was wasted. She had lived, not just existed. She had known sorrow, but there was always someone there to offer comfort. She had known bliss and had had someone there to share it with her. No, her life was one which many would envy.
Perhaps that was it, she thought. It was just too damn good. And someone, somewhere out there, was jealous.
She coughed and tasted the blood that rose up to her mouth. A second later, her eyes confirmed it as she saw the brilliant red stain which covered her hands after she covered her mouth with them.
She was dying. She knew it the moment she became lucid.
She looked at her assailants and almost cursed herself for her stupidity. She couldn't believe she fell for the I'm-lost-can-you-give-me- the-directions approach. Her judgment of the human character must be slipping. She groaned and mentally kicked herself for the umpteenth time.
He had warned her to be careful. In fact, he had insisted that he come to the mall with her, but she, being the independent I-can-do-it- myself person that she is, refused and told him to relax. After all, what could happen in a public place in broad daylight?
A lot, apparently.
She struggled to maintain her sitting position. She didn't know what it was they injected in her, but whatever it was, it was working like a charm. Her legs felt like the jelly she and Jonny enjoyed making so much. She was feeling so lethargic . . . No wonder they don't tie her up anymore. She couldn't even stand up on her own if her life depended on it.
She looked around her, her head wobbling at the movement. Her vision was a little blurry, but she can still make out the people who were in the room with her.
She glanced at the door, hearing the approach of footsteps. She saw as it was opened by a man, the same one whom she had heard talking on the phone, making demands for her release.
She hated this. She abhorred the fact that they're using her to get to him. Again, she berated herself for putting herself in this position, for enabling them to put him in this position.
"Kill her," she heard him say tersely.
She gasped. 'No,' she wanted to say. 'Please, no. I have a --'
"Her old man called in his friends in the government," he told his companions. "They're going to be so hot on our trail . . . she's a liability."
She watched with dread as one of them approached her, carrying his revolver.
Only one regret, she thought. Jonny . . . I'll never . . .
The sound of the gun blast was the last thing that penetrated senses.

*******************************

"We're sorry, Dr. Quest," he said.
Jonny approached his father from behind. He stared at his face and saw an awful look. He looked back at the man in the doorway and glared at him, the one that probably caused his father to be sad. He tugged insistently at his father's hand, willing him to look at him. He has an important question to ask and he wanted answers NOW.
His father looked down at him and he saw the strangest expression in his face.
"Hey, dad," he said in a small voice, "is mom here, yet?"
Dr. Benton Quest looked down at his son and said, "Jonny, let me talk to this man first okay?"
Jonny looked at him suspiciously and said, " 'kay."
He gave the man by the door another glare for taking away his father's attention at that moment and ran towards the living room. He'd wait for his mom there.

*****************************

Dr. Quest looked back at his guest and said, "My son and I would like to be alone now. If there is anything else --"
"Nothing that won't wait 'till tomorrow," he replied.
Benton nodded his head and closed the door firmly, but quietly. He leaned against it and stared at the direction Jonny took. He took a deep breath.
Rachel, he thought as he tried to stem the tide of emotion that welled up in his chest. Rachel.

******************************

"This is how you make it up to her?" demanded Lachesis.
Clotho looked at her and replied in a quiet voice, "I gave her a life worth living."
She looked at her incredulously. "What about the family, huh?" she asked. "Do you think she would have liked to leave them alone?"
"The thread was too short," she answered, trying to maintain a serene pose. "I wanted her to affect as many lives as possible and I did that." She paused. "But I couldn't lengthen the thread. It was just time to go and that was the only option left."
Lachesis sniffed. "She had one regret," she said.
"I'm sorry," said Clotho quietly, whether to herself, to Lachesis, or to the woman the thread represented, she didn't know. "I know she wanted to see her son grow up, but that was impossible. The thread was just . . . cut too soon."
A moment of silence past as both remembered the event that led to that result.
Finally, Lachesis got up.
"I'll go find Atropos now," she said, not wanting to watch Clotho weave more lives in her loom.
Clotho watched her walk away, then stared back at her loom, looking at the other entwined threads.
"I'll take care of them," she said. "Don't worry."

************************************************************************

Revised September, 2003