Title: Death on a Horse

Author: Scorpio

Email: LouisdPdL@aol.com

Archive: Joxerotica & Richie/Methos Archive

Fandom: Herc/Xenaverse & Highlander x-over

Pairing: Ares/Joxer & Richie/Methos

Rating: R (for violence)

Series: The Love of War & the Rebirth of Death...

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything. I have no money, I make no money, don't sue me please...

Warning: Descriptions of battle site.

Notes: This is in response to two seperate challenges. The one on Joxerotica was to do an x-over and make Joxer Immortal, the one from Richie-Methos list was to do an x-over and involve Ares with the boyz...

Summary: Ancient Greece,... prequel, so to speak...


Death on a Horse
By Scorpio

The Horseman known as Death gazed out over the blood soaked battlefield intently. Smoke from the many fires drifted by thickly, obscuring his vision. Pain filled groans and the harsh cries of the injured and dying filled his ears. His large Battle-steed wound it's way steadily among the torn and battered corpses littering the muddy field as he searched.

He could feel it. The unmistakable sensation of a newborn Immortal who is ready to awake from his first death. Closer and closer he drew to the terribly vulnerable Immortal. Death was on a head hunt.

The mortal followers of the Horsemen, their Army, were adding to the chaotic confusion in their mad dash for loot. Wooden buildings burned and a few stray survivors shrieked out their loss and grief. The turmoil and madness that was normally raging within Deaths heart was now let loose. Scouring the once peaceful village, he hunted.

The psychic vibrations grew stronger with every pace of the War- horse's hooves. Finally, Death turned his steed around the corner of what was once a smithy. There he was. The energy signature was unmistakable. He dismounted near the fallen young soldier and turned him over with the blade of his sword.

He was a comely young man with fine brown hair and soft pale skin. His clothing consisted of some bizarre type of armor that Death would have never put his trust in. A few quick, sure slices with the sharp blade removed the ungainly and thin metal breastplate allowing the silent Horseman an unimpeded view of the wound.

He watched with dispassionate eyes as blue-white energy sparks flashed across the jagged bloody belly wound. Death was patient. He would wait until the young man was awake,. and then he would take his head.

Suddenly, a showering cascade of red sparkles and the crackling hissing sound of raw energy began to form to his right. Death turned his head and stared with dark haunted eyes. Not even a flicker of curiosity or fear crossed his coldly handsome features. A flash of intense light lit the area in a ghastly imitation of sunlight. When it faded, Ares God of War and Violence stood next to the Horseman of Death, and surveyed his Dark Domain.

Finally, the WarGod turned to look at the Immortal who predated even Him. He noted the weary and deadened look in Death's eyes and the hardened and callousness of his soul. His one time Mentor and eternal friend was suffering a darkening of the heart in place of the oblivion he would forever be denied. Ares knew that something drastic must be done to save the bitter remains of the Immortal Warrior's sanity.

"Methos."

"Ares."

"I would ask a boon of you. A "formal" favor. From the God of War to the Horseman of Death."

Death raised one arched eyebrow up and gazed at his former student with something resembling curiosity. Formal favor? This was important. and it would never hurt to have the Olympian God of War owe him another favor. Should he ever choose to collect, Ares would be his slave for at least a century already.

"Oh?..."

"Don't take this one's head. Teach him instead. Take him on as your student, just as you took me as a student when Zeus sent me to you to learn the ways of War and Violence in order to take my rightful place in Olympus."

Death glanced down at the corpse at their feet. He could feel the energy of the Quickening gather strength as it prepared to resurrect the flesh that even now held the soul imprisoned. For an instant, a spark of true curiosity washed of him.

"Why? What is so important about this one?"

"He is a worshipper of mine. Now that I know he has a chance to live beyond a normal mortal life-span, I would,..."

Ares paused and blushed. Then he stood up straighter and thrust out his chin and glared around as if to dare anyone to defy him.

"I would make him my consort."

A ghost of a smile crossed the face of Death. So, War wanted an Immortal consort. It was,... intriguing. With a soft sigh, Death nodded his consent. He would train this young warrior in the arts of war and teach him the rules of The Game. It didn't even occur to him to ask why Ares couldn't train the young one himself...

With a flex of power and a flash of light, the young man's quickening corpse materialized on the back of Death's Horse. A few adjustments of the straps and buckles insured that he would not fall off. Death gently took hold of the reins.

A loud noise rose behind them near the center of the Marketplace, pulling their attention from what they were doing. Three armed and armored Immortals sat upon the backs of three well trained Battle- steeds. Pestilence. War. Famine. Death looked to his brothers and then looked to his charge. This would never work...

Death looked at his former student and looked at the future consort of War. Death turned and let his eyes scour the burnt and ravaged village around him. The scent of ashes and blood filled his nose and the cries of the dying filled his ears. He saw a young peasant woman wailing over the body of a small child he himself had killed. Her shrill voice echoed in his head.

"Oh why?!! Why did Death claim you and not me?!?! Why, Gods?! Oh why?!"

With a shutter that ran down his spine and an unshed tear glistening in his dark and jaded eyes, the Horseman of Death died a silent and unmourned death. Slowly, with great propose, the Immortal who called himself Methos turned and walked his War-Horse to the edge of town. The voice of War stopped him just as he was to about to cross the village border and escape into a new existence.

"Teach him well, my friend. Joxer is very important to me. I will be back."

Methos paused as the words swept over him. He did not turn to watch Ares dematerialize into thin air, nor did he answer him, he merely continued on his way. Yes,... War always returned to him. It was unavoidable. Hopefully next time though, it would be a much more pleasant reunion.



The Ancient & the Consort

Methos looked over at Joxer with fond amusement shinning in his dark eyes. His student stood in the meadow beyond the small vegetable garden behind the house, practicing a form of slow kata's with his sword. His lean body was rippling with long subtle muscles and his fine brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail that hung down between his shoulder blades. His movements were graceful and sure, flowing from deep within. He was beauty in motion.

The Ancient bent over his task in the vegetable garden once more, the basket of weeds filling quickly. It would be time to send his student to the Olympian WarGod soon, and Methos was of a mixed mind about that. Part of him was glad to send Joxer to his destiny and proud to have been a part of it. But another part of him, a selfish and dark part, wanted to keep Joxer here with him. To refuse to allow his student to leave, to force him to stay and keep him company. Methos wasn't ready to be alone, even if Joxer was ready to go out on his own.

The Ancient smiled at his neat row of plants as he cast his mind back in time. It had taken a little over a century to get Joxer to the point he was at now. He had been a very difficult student to teach and in the process, Methos had been forced to redefine his ideas of patience. Joxer had known very little about the art of War. And what little he did know was skewed and exaggerated by his personal view point of the world.

Methos had soon decided that Joxer needed, not only to be trained in sword fighting and the rules of The Game, but to be generally educated in the ways of the world. He quickly gathered from Joxers often amusing stories that the young Immortal had been a frequent vagabond and had traveled the length and breadth of Greece. Methos was amazed at how he had managed to combine an odd mixture of worldliness and naivete' with his often conflicting self image.

So, the Ancient had set certain goals that Joxer would have to meet before he could begin the next level of training. The education of his mind went very smoothly and was accomplished rather quickly once Methos ground away Joxers tendency to only see the way events would effect him personally. Not that Joxer was self absorbed, but he had no concept of thinking in the long term. He could not see how certain events shaped the present until you pointed it out to him. Trying to see how the present might effect the future was an alien way of thinking to the flighty young Warrior.

A century earlier, when Joxer had begun his education, the Ancient had been trying to explain the differing forms of government and how they worked, as well as international politics. They were very abstract concepts which manifested themselves in physical ways that Joxer insisted didn't truly matter. Methos could see what Joxer was trying to say and could follow the boys logic, but he knew it was wrong. However, Joxer couldn't understand how such distinctions of power and how it is welded could be important to anyone other than the individual ruler and maybe the citizens of that place. So, Methos made a prediction.

Methos predicted that Greece would fall to her younger and stronger sister,... Rome. Joxer had nearly gone up in flames at that pronouncement and spent the better part of an hour detailing the differing armies in Greece as well as spouting praise for the fierceness, courage, and fighting skills of his fellow Greeks. Methos let him rant. When Joxer began to run out of wind, Methos merely shrugged his shoulders with feinted disinterest and turned to go calling over his shoulder in a calm and self assured voice, "It is inevitable."

Joxer had been silenced as surely as if Methos had slapped him. Finally, he found his voice.

"How can you be so damn sure? Do you now something? Are they going to invade?"

Methos turned and faced his student. Joxer stood posed as if to run to the nearest horse and shout warnings all throughout his homeland. Methos figured that maybe this time he would listen and understand, since it would effect him,... in a sense.

"No. I don't know of any invasion plans, nor do I want to. I know this because I have been watching the world turn for millennia. I've almost seen as many centuries as you have years . I have watched empires that were fated to rule the world forever crumble into dust. I have advised conquerors, I have taken down conquerors, I have been the conqueror. I know the signs."

Methos pulled up several chairs and forced Joxer to sit and hear him out. Getting comfortable he began his lecture again.

"Look, I'm not saying that the Greek fighters are not brave and true and fierce. I am saying that they are disorganized, spread far to thin, and plagued with far too any kings and rulers. The Greeks are not one people. They are scattered into many small city-states and farming communities. Rome is one vast empire, and it's still growing. In numbers as well as solidarity."

"Granted, the individual Greek Warrior could be as strong and as brave and true as a God, but that isn't enough. A bunch of small individual armies and town militia groups aren't enough to defend against the encroaching borders of Rome. The Grecian alliances are too shaky and use differing communication systems that would make working together to meet a common enemy difficult at best, impossible at worst."

Joxer started to protest once more but Methos cut him off.

"Look, Greece will fall to Rome. It will happen. If not on the battlefield, then on the marketplace. It will not happen tomorrow or the next day. I know of no invasion plans or anything of that nature. I just see it as something that is destined to happen by the direction that current events are leading to. And yes,... eventually Rome will also fall and crumble to dust. That too is inevitable."

And thus began Joxer's education of international politics and Methos predictions for the future. And it had come to pass. Rome was now a strong and wide spread Empire. Already Methos could see the corruption that would eventually lead to it's downfall, but it had many decades, even centuries before they would come to fruition.

As for Joxer's training in the martial arts, well, the boy had much to unlearn and many problems to overcome. Bad hand-eye coordination combined with horrible habits had forced Methos to re-evaluate his training methods. He needed to retrain Joxers mind and body, not just add skills.

Balance and coordination were practiced daily as well as strength and endurance training. Meditation and yoga were introduced to give him a sense of calm and, more importantly, a clear unbiased opinion of himself. Fighting skills were offered slowly and practiced with great repetition. It was a slow and often frustrating undertaking.

But here they were, a little over a century later and Joxer was finally ready. His skills were complete and his thinking was no longer clouded by self delusion. He was a calm, confident and steady young man who was prepared to meet any threat that could come his way. The Ancient had devoted over a century of his time and energy to training the younger Immortal, but he had gotten a priceless gift in return.

Joxer's gentle soul and loving spirit, combined with his enthusiasm and genuine sense of humor had effectively pulled the jaded and hurting Immortal back from the brink of eternal madness. Even as Methos taught Joxer to fight and see the world from an Immortals point of view, Joxer had taught Methos to laugh and smile and feel joy once more.

Methos had often wondered during the early years of Joxers training, just what it was that Ares saw in the clumsy young man. Now he knew. Joxer had taught the Ancient, who was once called Death, how to love. If Methos could learn to receive love and return it just as easily,... so could War.

As if the thought of him had been a summons, a shower of sparks and the crackling of energy alerted Methos that he had an Olympian visitor. Standing up and dusting off his knees, the Ancient made his way slowly from the vegetable garden over to the disturbance in the air. In a flash of light, Ares, now called Mars, materialized.

The two most dangerous and deadly fighters in the known world, War and Death, stood side by side, watching a sweet and kind young man go through the graceful and sensual movements of the kata's. Sweat glistened on his skin as the long lines of his muscles rippled and flexed. He was beautiful.

"Methos."

"Ares."

"I have come for him as I said I would. He is ready now."

"Yes. Yes he is."

"I have watched him. All this time, I have watched and waited. I,... I love him Methos."

"Yes. He is,... lovable."



The Insanity of War

"Ares!!!!"

The God of War rocked back in his Olympian throne at the urgent and angry summons that sizzled through his head like a laser beam. Joxer? His Consorts voice had carried undertones of fear and pain that he hadn't heard in centuries. Quickly, with an edge of panic, Ares locked onto the signature Quickening in his beloved's head and then transported himself to Joxer.

He found his millennia old lover in a dark back alley facing. Cupid? An angry and obviously insane Cupid. A Cupid with black wings and a hauntingly familiar sword. Ares honed his awareness at the mad God. Yes, it was true, it should be impossible, but it was true. It was Cupid, God of War. The Olympian from the alternate universe that Hercules had stumbled upon so many centuries ago. What was he doing here? How had he gotten here? Ares had sealed that portal himself...

"Cupid! Stop now. Leave him be,... it's ME you should be facing."

The mad winged God spun around and faced Ares. The WarGod swayed as the force of Cupid's personality and power signature washed over him. Waves of loneliness and pain rolled over him, followed quickly by overwhelming anger and jealousy. Finally, it settled down into a steady and strong hatred.

"No! I won't stop! YOU have everything and I have nothing! It's not fair. I won't stand for it any longer. You can keep the mortals, I want only him . You can't deny me. I won't go back alone. I won't be alone any more! I refuse! I've worked too long and hard at this! He's mine!"

"What are you talking about?! He's mine. Get your own Consort. Leave my world, go back to your own."

"I'll leave all right,... but not alone. Never again."

In a barely heard whisper Cupid finished his thought, "Never again will I talk to the wind. I need a voice to answer me back... I suffer..."

With a swiftness that was alarming, the insane God of War focused his attention back outwards to his enemies. With a dexterity born of desperation and unending pain, Cupid sent a huge jolt of power towards Ares and then flashed out, only to materialize behind Joxer with his sword at the Immortals throat.

"Hold! Or I'll take his head. I swear it."

Ares stopped in the midst of hurling a blazing ball of energy at the twisted image of his loving and compassionate son. Fear and anger warred for dominance in his mind.

"YOU have mortals to play with, you don't need him. I have no one. Nothing. My world is dead! Cataclysmic War destroyed everyone. I am all that is left. No mortals. No gods. Only me! I refuse to be alone again. I will take him and only Death can stop me. Only Death..."

With a flex of enormous energy and power, Cupid, the mad God of a dead and empty world, disappeared with Joxer, Immortal Consort of Ares God of War. Enraged, Ares gathered his strength and attempted to follow, but Cupid had set traps and wards that prevented him from following.

Ares stood there, furiously studying the divine wards and spells while Cupids last words echoed furiously in his mind. Yes, Cupid had tampered with the portal so that an Olympian from this world could not cross the barrier, but an Immortal could. He had to make it that way to kidnap Ares lover. Since that was true, Ares could send a rescue party through. Ares could open and hold the portal for another, even if he couldn't go through it himself.

He knew who to send. Cupid had said it himself. Only Death could stop him. So be it. In angry desperation, Ares cast his awareness out, searching for the Immortal Quickening signature of the one person he could trust. One that was almost as familiar to him as his Consorts. The one who had trained both himself and his beloved. Methos,... the Horseman of Death.

He was beginning to despair, fearing that his dearest friend had somehow lost his head without Ares being aware of it when he suddenly felt it. It was faint,... halfway across the world. Quickly, he locked in on the power source and transported himself to America.

Ares materialized to find himself in a small bedroom gazing down at two men curled around each other. One was sleeping, the other had become instantly awake at his arrival. The sleeping one was young. Both in apparent age as well as in the power level in his Quickening signature. He had short red curls and broad shoulders with creamy freckled skin. He was very beautiful. The one that was awake was Methos. It had only taken him a few seconds to awaken completely and reach under the bed to grasp his sword. Armed and angry, Methos gazed at his very first student.

"What?! I'm sleeping here."

Ares almost grinned at the grumpy exasperation that Methos still displayed when first waking. It usually took the Ancient Immortal an hour or so to settle into something resembling good humor.

"I need to talk to you. It's an emergency. You're the only one I could turn to."

"What? Ares,... what could be so important that you would expose your cover to a stranger and invade my home?"

"I,... Cupid,... Uh,... do you remember the portal that opened to the Alternate Universe that my stupid half-brother Hercules discovered?"

"Not personally, but yeah,... I've heard the stories. Heard them from Joxer and from that bard that followed your daughter Xena around,... Ugh,... Gabrielle, right?"

Ares nodded and walked over to the edge of the bed. He carefully shifted Methos over a bit and sat down on the edge. He told himself it was so he didn't have to shout and not because he wanted the comfort and safety of his being near his old teachers side.

"Yeah,... well, I found a way to seal the portal about fifty years before the Byzantines marched on the city of Rome. All this time it has stayed sealed. Until this morning."

"What? How? Who?..."

Ares flashed a tight cold grin that was devoid of any warmth at his teachers stuttered astonishment. He knew this was going to come hard and fast at the Ancient, but he also knew that the old man was the only one able to help.

"That worlds God of War,... Cupid. He found a way to come across and yet block this worlds Olympians from crossing back over to his side. He was insane. He kept ranting about being alone and some sort of War that wiped out the Gods and their mortal followers. He,... he took Joxer with him."

"WHAT?!?!!"

Methos sat straight up in bed, instantly enraged that someone would attack his most favorite student without following the rules of the Game. His violent and sudden reaction to the news jostled his bed partner, sending the sleeping young man to tumble onto the floor with a loud thump. An annoyed and sleepy voice rose from the floor on the far side of the bed.

"Damn-it Methos! Have you lost what's left of that labyrinth you call a mind? What the hell do you..."

The young red head trailed off as he sat back up and finally noticed the raven haired, leather clad, and extremely angry man sitting on the bed next to his lover.

"Umm, Methos... Is there a strange man sitting in our bed or am I having a flash back from the time you dragged me to that Phish concert and we ended up hallucinating after drinking that green fruit punch?"

The War God and the Ancient Immortal both turned to stare at the young and only half awake Immortal that was on the floor. Ares watched as emotions flickered deep within Methos eyes. Very few beings could read Methos, he had spent five thousand years learning how to keep others from getting close, but Ares knew him very well. He could both see and feel Methos attachment to the young man looking very confused and more than a little put out over his rude awakening.

"What? Will you stop staring at me like that and just tell me what's going on."

Methos ignored the demands of his lover and turned to look Ares right in the eye. Ares could almost hear the gears in Methos head turning. His oldest friend and mentor finally sighed. A deep sadness flickered out from his dark and wizened eyes.

"What did you need me for? If you can't go after him..."

"I need you to go. Immortals can go through the portal, even if I can't. You're the only one with the strength and ability to do it. I can open the portal and keep it that way for as long as you need, but I can't cross over. That's something only you can do."

Ares watched as an old and still sharp pain rose in Methos eyes even as he felt a wave of fear,... a new fear wash over him. He noticed how the old man's eyes flickered quickly over to the young red head who sat frowning in displeasure at being ignored. Something clicked in his head and a flush of compassion and understanding flowed through him.

"Please Methos. For Joxer. He needs us,... he needs you. I,... I'll watch over your young one,... even as you watched over Joxer for me."

Ares could feel the indignant defiance radiate from the red head at his words.

"Now, just wait a minute. I'm not some..."

"Deal."

Methos voice was tempered with sadness, but his resolution was firm.

"Good. Thank you."

With that, Ares reached out and touched both Immortals at once. With a flex of power, the world dissolved around them. The young red headed Immortals startled yelp followed them across time and space as the War God brought the two Immortals to his Temple on Olympus.



The Horseman Cometh

Methos stood before the swirling chaos of the portal. Lightening flashed erratically and debris was tossed around at frightening speeds. He settled the unfamiliar weight of his armor and weapons more comfortably and waited for Ares signal.

His twentieth century armor was lighter and stronger than the armor he wore when he fought alongside the Horsemen, but the weapons were vastly different. Scatter grenades and state of the art automatic rifles were added to his dagger and sword. Starlight night vision goggles and iron rations, C4 and plastics fuses, waterproof matches and gasoline, battle-axes and rope. The four-wheel drive Jeep that he was sitting in was packed with an odd assortment of ancient and modern supplies. He was a one man rescue team.

He glanced over his shoulder and enjoyed the sight of his lover and his first and greatest student standing shoulder to shoulder enveloped in a blazing ball of pure energy. He allowed his eyes to slowly roam over them, memorizing every detail in case it turned out to be his last chance to look at them. Ares nodded once. Resolutely, Methos turned to the swirling storm and put the jeep in gear.

Methos drove through the vortex with a steady hand and a sense of calm that slowly evolved into a coldness of spirit. It was an odd sensation and he lent a small portion of his mind to examining it with a clinical dryness. By the time he had finished fighting for control of the jeep and had safely landed on the far side, he had recognized what it was that had settled over him.

Death had been reborn.

When Methos had originally agreed to train Joxer for Ares he had had to leave behind his life and persona with the Horsemen. In doing so, Joxer had taught him a new way of life. A life based on being a force for goodness, not a force for evil. Methos had never considered that to be an option for a Warrior, but Joxer had shown him differently. Joxer had learned hand to hand combat and sword fighting of the highest caliber. Methos had learned honor and compassion.

Now, as Methos looked around at the barren and dead world around him, he felt that compassion and ability to forgive fall away from him. He took in the crumpled ruins of the city off in the distance and the rusted car and skeleton littered highway over to his left. With a hard and feral gleam in his dark eyes, he welcomed the cold and ruthless persona of the Horseman Death.

Death felt his Immortal healing begin to tingle through his lungs and over the exposed portions of his skin. He looked around at the fire blasted landscape and noted the bitter cold wind. It finally made sense to him. Cupid had started a world war. One that had gotten out of his control. One that had ended in a nuclear holocaust.

That was why Cupid left with only Joxer and no mortals. An Immortal would heal just as quickly as the radiation injured him. A mortal would be dead within a matter of weeks.

Death reached over and carefully unwrapped a small mirror that had been strapped to the seat beside him. Raising the enchanted glass, he murmured the words Ares had taught him. Slowly, the mirror began to glow. Brighter and brighter until it became painful to look at it directly. Suddenly, darkness fell as the glow vanished. Blinking his eyes rapidly, Death looked into the glass and saw his prey. Cupid.

The Mad God was in a stone room barren of any furniture besides a wooden high backed chair . Joxer had been firmly shackled to the chair and Cupid paced back and forth in front of him. The raven winged God was ranting and Joxer was staring at him with a look of horrified pity stamped on his face.

Carefully re-wrapping the enchanted mirror, Death prepared to head in the direction of the only two living creatures on the entire planet. It was his intention to kill one of them,... or die trying.

~~~

Richie Ryan sat in the Olympian Temple of War between Cupid, God of Love and Strife, God of Mischief laughing hysterically. The two divine lovers had been regaling him with tales of the misadventures that they, along with Ares and Joxer had gotten into over the centuries. A surprising number of the stories also included Methos.

As shocking as it had been for Richie to find out that the Olympian Gods of myth and legend were, in fact, real and not fairy tales, it was even more disconcerting to find out that his lover knew them, personally. Richie had spent years wrestling with his conscience over the question of a higher power and the existence of divine beings and here Methos had been meeting real live Gods for beer and to discuss politics for centuries.

However, as much as Richie enjoyed the stories for their historic and entertainment value, what he truly treasured them for was the insight into the mind of his stoic and often distant lover. Methos was the most important person in Richies life and yet he barely knew the old man. His methods, yes,... his motivations, no.

He had heard all the veiled half rumors and the vague assumptions that floated around, but he never knew the true story and history of the man he loved. Methos rarely talked about the past as it related to himself personally. He was the best history teacher a man could ask for and Richie had a better grasp of the events that had shaped the world than most people due to that fact. However, Richie couldn't have put together a time-line describing his lovers life if his head depended on it.

The tales that Cupid and Strife told however, were not just bare facts, they were memories. The stories were generously peppered with explanations, opinions and detailed descriptions that made them come alive for Richie. He got a real sense of the time period, the people that had lived then and the situations they faced. It suddenly became real to Richie and he felt a wave of love and tender compassion for the old guy. How had he managed to survive all through the endless centuries without going stark raving mad?

"He didn't."

"Huh?" Richie turned to Strife in confusion. It was still disconcerting to him when one of the Olympians read the thoughts out of his mind.

"I said, he didn't. Stay sane, I mean. Methos has gone mad on a few occasions. He's older than me and Cupid. Hades,... he's older than Unc."

The pale God of Mischief nodded towards the WarGod sitting on his throne, concentrating on holding the portal open. Richie felt his heart lurch in sympathetic pain for his beloved as he considered the implications of being older than the Gods.

"Ya see,.. Methos goes mad when it all gets ta be too much for him. It usually shows up one of two ways."

Richie snapped his head sharply around to glare at Strife.

"What do you mean? One of two ways?... How?!"

"Well..." Strife glanced at his lover and the white winged God of Love nodded.

"Mostly,... if Methos needs ta take a break from reality and recharge his mental batteries, so ta speak, he just sorta forgets."

"Forgets?"

"Yeah,... temporary amnesia. Ya know, sorta like taking a vacation from his memories and his guilt. Sometimes it lasts a few months, sometimes a few years. It's never permanent,... or dangerous. It's just a self induced,... reprieve."

The two Gods exchanged haunted glances then. Strife sighed and continued.

"The second form of madness that claims Methos is Death."

"Death?..."

"Yeah. It's a separate personality. The Horseman of Death. Methos is the one that taught Ares how ta make war,... and he did so as Immortal Death, Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse."

Richie shuddered. He had heard stories of Methos time with the Horsemen. He had tried to tell himself that it was firmly in the past and that it didn't matter. Now he wasn't so sure. If it was a matter of a multiple personality, then Richie needed to know. Richie was in love with "Methos" and had personally experienced a mild form of temporary amnesia before, so he felt he could handle the personality he quickly named "Innocence", but he needed to know and understand "Death".

"Tell me about him please."

"Who?"

"Death. The Fourth Horseman."

The two Olympians glanced at each other and Richie could tell they were communicating silently. Finally, they nodded at each other and turned to once more face Richie. It was Cupid who answered.

"What did you want to know?"

"Everything."



The Lost and the Damned

Joxer awoke to pain. He could feel the tingles of his Immortal healing flash throughout his broken and battered body. Gentle hands set and molded his shattered bones into straight lines. Softly whispered words echoed about the chamber and soothed the jagged fear in his heart. He couldn't understand the words, but he recognized the voices. He could feel the Quickening energy sizzle through him, healing him, making him whole once more.

After what was probably only fifteen minutes, but seemed an eternity, Joxer was healed enough to open his eyes and look around. He was in a vast stone chamber. It was very dark, the only light was a hellish orange shining in weakly from a series of high set windows. There was no furniture in the room, but there were people. He sat up a little and saw that he was looking into the well loved features of his beloved.

"Ares!"

With a cry of happiness and relief, Joxer flung himself into the arms of his lover. He held onto him with a desperate need, shaking and trembling. As he began to calm slightly, two things occurred to him at once. Where was Cupid God of War? And why did Ares arms feel so,... odd? The embrace that held him was warm and tender, but it lacked the basic strength and dark passion that he had grown to need over the long and wonderful millennia. Slowly, Joxer pulled back to look into his lovers face.

A cold feeling of horror swept over him. It was Ares face,... sort of. It was his features, but there were different. This Ares looked infinitely sad and tired. His normally bronzed skin looked wane and pale. His features were drawn into a mask of horror and terrible guilt. His large frame was thin and he seemed wasted from starvation and illness.

In a sudden flash of understanding, he realized that he wasn't looking at his Ares, he was looking at Ares God of Love. His nightmare was real,... and it was worse than Hell.

Joxer looked around the room. He saw many familiar faces. He had spent almost all of his Immortal life as the Consort to Ares God of War and he had developed deep and abiding friendships with the entire Olympian pantheon. He was now looking out at the pantheon of the Alternate Universe, and what he saw shocked him to his very core.

Everyone was here. Everyone except Cupid, this worlds God of War. They were all in a similar state as Ares God of Love. Wane, tired, and very ill. They all seemed to be on the verge of death or insanity,... in some cases, both. Instinctively, he clutched Ares God of Love even tighter, but this time, he gave comfort instead of taking it.

"What,... what happened here?"

"My son..."

Joxer turned his head at the sound of the voice. It was Aphrodite. He gasped. His memory of the last time he had seen the blonde Goddess of Love flashed through his mind and contrasted harshly with what he saw before him. His Dite', the sweet and bubbly blonde who was the mother to his mates children was one of his most cherished friends and confidants. He loved being step-dad to her children along-side the quiet and shy God of Fire, Hephestos. Joxer secretly thought of her as the sister he never had.

This Aphrodite was clothed in head to toe deep mourning. Joxer winced at the unrelieved black when he realized he had rarely seen Dite' in anything other than pink. It made his heart clench in pain to see those well loved features expressing such pain and loss. Joxer felt deep in his soul that Dite' should only smile, pout, or leer. No other expression should mar her soft face. He shuddered.

"Cupid,... he's gone mad. He started a war that killed everyone,... everything."

"But how?..."

"The weapons he unleashed were horrifying in their devastation. Nuclear radiation, biological and germ warfare. He,... he poisoned the air, the water,... the very earth herself."

Joxer gasped as this information seeped into his mind. What madness! Ares,... his Ares, had strictly forbidden the use of such weapons. He had inspired the creation of something called the Geneva Convention and had influenced the United Nations to take on the role of international peace-keepers to enforce his rules and limitations. Many had thought it unthinkable that the God of War would impose such restrictions on himself and his followers, but he had been trying to prevent this,... Ares didn't want total global destruction. It was the struggle he cared about, not who was the winner or loser,... well usually. His Ares wanted humans to carry his message and worship out into the stars one day, just like on that Star Trek show he loved so much. He didn't want to see them exterminated. This was pure madness and horror...

"Why didn't you stop him,... stop this! What were you doing?!"

Joxers accusation rang sharply in the vaulted stone room. White hot anger and frustration seethed within him.

"Don't you think we tried!"

Joxer turned at the familiar voice. It was Hestia,... or rather this worlds version of Hestia. Joxer found it hard to see Ares quiet and loving Aunt within the pain ravaged woman before him.

"We tried to stop him. We tried to stop his armies. But the longer the war went on, the weaker we became. He was killing our worshipers by the millions and thus, sapping our strength."

Joxer watched all the fire and energy drain from the trembling Goddess as she suddenly leaned up against the stone wall for support. She drew in a shuddering breath and then turned her sad and lost eyes upon him once more.

"Right now, the only thing that is stopping us from dying is the Gods on your world. Their life force is keeping us from slipping into death. And without worshippers,... even that won't sustain us much longer. We're,... dying. Right along with our world."

A new horror and fear seared through Joxer. He looked around at faces that were both hauntingly familiar and yet completely new. Slowly, a certain fact seeped into his over taxed mind. All of the Gods were standing by, leaning or sitting against the walls of the room. None of them had ventured out into the middle or over to him. They just stayed in their own little spot. He looked a little more closely around the room, then gasped.

"Are all of you chained to the wall?"

"Yes."

The quiet whisper tickled his hair and he turned to stare into the eyes of Ares God of Love. A deep sadness welled up inside of him as he looked around the cold hard prison that was to be their final resting place. No! He couldn't let that happen. Never! They might not be his Olympians, but he couldn't let them suffer like this. There had to be a way.

"They were forged by Artemis, Goddess of Fire and the Forge. We can not break them."

Joxer blinked in slight surprise and then nodded. He stood up slowly, testing the extent of his Immortal healing and then dusted himself off. He too was chained to the wall, right next to the Love God. He studied the chain. It was long, about ten feet, allowing him movement, but not much else. It wasn't very thick, but he wasn't strong enough to break chains forged by a Goddess, no one was. A once over of himself showed that he was still armed and had all of the things he had with him when Cupid kidnapped him. Apparently, the mad God of War didn't consider him a danger. Bad move on Cupid's part...

Joxer dug into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a gift that had been given to him on his one thousandth birthday by his dearest friend,... Strife God of Mischief. Joxer opened the small leather case and began to select a small well crafted metal object.

"What's that?"

Joxer grinned at the God of Love. He once again marveled how he could look so much like his Ares and yet be so very different, all at once.

"It's a lock pick. I spent several centuries learning how to do this. I had two very good teachers,... Strife and occasionally, Hermes."

Ares God of Love looked at him as if he'd gone mad himself. He silently mouthed the words, "Strife?! And Hermes?!" Astonished confusion settled onto his pale and anguished, yet still beautiful face.

"Yeah."

It didn't take him very long to release himself. Without a word, he turned and began to work on the locks imprisoning the God who looked so very much like his beloved. As he worked, an idea came to him. It was so simple, yet startling in it's ability to work.

"You're Ares, God of Love, right?"

"Yes."

"And you need prayer and worship to give you strength, right?"

"Well,... yes. I don't understand?"

Joxer paused in his work on the lock and looked deeply into the eyes of the pain filled and desolate God before him. He thought of all the good he had once done and all the anguish he had suffered at the loss of mankind. He then searched deep within himself and discovered that, yes,... he could do this.

Then, with a clear voice and a full heart, Joxer began to pray. He spoke his prayers of worship and praise as he once again started on the lock. They weren't studied words or sing-song rhymes. They were open and honest. His feelings of amazement at the Love Gods struggle and his feelings of remorse at the pain he had suffered were eloquent in their simple truth and deep felt honesty.

With one wrist free of a chain, he began on the other one. While working on this one, he changed tactics. He told the Love God of his relationship with his Ares and let the Olympian feel his love and affection deep in his heart for the raven haired lover he had left behind.

It wasn't much, but he could feel added strength and resolve pour into the God before him. Slowly, painstakingly, Joxer made his way around the room unlocking the chains that held the Alternate Universe Olympians prisoner.

With the first wrist he freed, he praised them personally. With the second, he explained how his life was positively influenced by their area of expertise. By the time he was done, he felt as if he'd purged his soul. And he was also the sole worshipper of an entire pantheon of Gods.



Love and Immortality in the Halls of Time

Cupid God of Love led Richie Ryan into a room beyond his wildest imaginings. They stood on a balcony that overlooked a gorge that had no end. Just an infinite void of time and space, unending in it's depth and breadth. The air seemed to be a deep sparkling blue with white wind swept clouds hovering all around them. Richie felt an odd surge of power from Cupid and the impossibility before him lit up as if a sun had risen somewhere in this no-where land. Bright shimmering fields of energy framed by what seemed to be solid gold floated in the misty air before him. His stunned mind insisted they looked like two- dimensional tv screens with broken cable boxes.

"Think of him. Concentrate on what you want to see, at any point in time and the viewing portals will show it to you."

Cupids voice seemed both loud and quiet all at once. His deep smooth tones echoed eerily and Richie swallowed back his nervousness. Without any conscious thought, he remembered the night before Ares had burst into their bedroom to lead them off on this insane adventure.

Suddenly, the electrical snow on the "tv screens" blinked out and were replaced by hundreds of images of him and Methos making love, all from slightly different view points. A strong wash of love, affection and lust rolled through him at the sight. So beautifull...

His thoughts were cut off by a warm hand on his shoulder and a soft deep voice in his ear.

"Oooo, yummy... I like this."

Richie turned to stare at Cupids look of rapt enjoyment and felt himself flush with extreme embarrassment. He had forgotten he wasn't alone. He concentrated hard and the images of him fucking himself on Methos thick cock vanished.

"Um,... er,... ahhh..."

Cupid chuckled and gave a friendly squeeze to his shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm the God of Love, remember? I promise you that it's nothing I haven't seen or done a million-million times before. Okay?"

Still blushing furiously, Richie nodded.

"Here,... I'll do one now, okay?"

Richie nodded again. He didn't trust himself to actually speak yet. He was still wondering if a person could die of embarrassment. Of course, being Immortal, that would only delay him having to face his new friend.

Suddenly, the floating screens began to flicker again. This time it was multiple images of Methos and a young man that Richie didn't recognize. They were both wearing odd looking pants and nothing else. The two men were standing alone in a field and Methos was showing the young man with the brown hair a series of movements that Richie recognized as a form of martial arts. The sun was shining down on them and he could see the sweat rolling down the taunt muscles and smooth skin. Richie sucked in a breath. Methos was so very beautiful. A moving work of art.

"That's Joxer, Ares's Consort. Methos took him on as a student after he first became Immortal at Ares personal request."

"When?... When was this?"

"Roughly three thousand years ago."

"oh..."

Richie could feel his head spinning. Cupid had spouted the time frame with indifference. To him, it was no big deal. But to Richie,... the young Immortal had a very difficult time wrapping his mind around the entire concept.

"At this particular point in his life, Methos was simply called The Ancient. He had just left the Horseman and his disappearance forced them to disband. I guess he was having some sort of identity crisis and refused to use his true name or to chose another. It was Joxer who started calling him Ancient One. He said it was better than , "Hey you! Old guy!"

Richie laughed out loud despite himself. It was sort of funny.

"Well, that's okay then. But it is a lot like what I call him."

Cupid arched up an eyebrow, his question showing clearly in his ageless eyes.

"I call Methos Old Man and he calls me Brat. It's a running joke between us. A lot of people who are in the know, so to speak, can't understand what we see in each other, ya know. Because of our age difference. They think that he should find someone who has lived for at least a few centuries and that I should find someone who hasn't hit a thousand yet, let alone five of 'em."

"What do you think?"

Cupid's voice was soft and gentle. Richie was once more reminded that this open and friendly being was a God and one that specialized in Love and Romance. It suddenly seemed very important that he make Cupid, at least, understand. Even if none of their other friends did.

"It's weird. I'll grant you that. But it's also so much more, ya know? I mean,... we give each other something we need, but can't find within ourselves. Perspective, I guess. He says that part of what he loves about me is my youth and inexperience. I don't understand it,... I don't think I can. He says that I make the world new again. That he looks through my eyes at things sometimes because mine aren't jaded."

"What do you see in him? What is it that draws you to him, why do you love him so?"

Richie didn't have to think about how to answer the God of Love. It was as if hearing the deep and gentle voice give life to the question had triggered the birth of the answer deep in his soul.

"Methos is everything to me. I know that they say that for each person, you change a little bit. That you become what they need you to be and what you need them to see you as." At Cupids slight nod he continued. "Well, it's more than that with Methos. He can be everything I need, when I need it. I don't have to go anywhere else to be happy or satisfied."

Richie paused to gather his thoughts. He wanted to explain this right and he knew words were not his strong point. Methos was the eloquent one.

"When I need him to be strong, he is. When I need him to be gentle, he is. When I don't understand something, he does. When I just need to be myself, he lets me. His love is unconditional. All he asks in return is that I accept him for who and what he is,... even when he's not real sure about that himself."

"A lot of people have warned me to be careful. They say it would be so easy to lose myself within him. That he's got such a strong personality and a sense of self that my persona will be lost. But that's not true. It's almost the opposite. I may be the young one, the weak one, the one who is still learning, but I know who I am. I am Richie Ryan, smart-ass, biker, Immortal lover of Methos the Myth. And that's just it. Methos is a myth. Somewhere in his very long and unending existence, Methos got lost... Left behind on the wayside. "

Richie turned to look deep into the startlingly clear and unwavering eyes of the Olympian God of Love. Their gazes locked and suddenly Richie could see forever staring back at him. He saw Methos...

"It's funny, ya know. People worry that I will forget who I am because of Methos, but it's Methos who doesn't know who he is. He's been so many people and lived so many lives, that it is him who gets lost in me. I ground him and keep him connected to the world around him. "

Richie sighed. It was a sad and resigned sound.

"I just wish I had known him when he still remembered who he was... before life and The Game had shattered him and then reformed him into it's own image."

With sad eyes Richie looked up to see an oddly fierce and determined look on Cupid's face. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he concentrated. Suddenly, the blank screens began to glow once more.

Richie turned and looked at multiple images of a young boy splashing in a swallow creek happily. His long dark hair was pulled back and tied with a leather thong. His thin arms reached down into the crystal clear waters and then emerged grasping a large and wiggly fish. The young boys face was filled with triumphant wonder and he shouted happily in a language long since dead and gone. A young woman in a loose fitting deer skin wrap with a small child on her hip came into view. She was smiling and laughing at the antics of the boy in the water. She gestured and spoke to him in that same unknowable language and the happy youngster carefully made his way out of the creek with his prize.

"That is Methos and the only mother he ever knew. This was when he was seven years old. She died two years or so later during childbirth. This was before the Game ever touched him."

Richie stared in open mouth wonder at the images of his lover as a happy and free spirited child. A dizzying wave of love and tenderness washed over him and he didn't even notice the tears that ran openly down his face.

"Thank you Cupid. Thank you for showing me this."



Requiem

Death smiled. His enemy was weakening little by little and his madness made him careless. Soon, another being would lose his life by Death's own hands. And this one deserved that honor. This one was worthy...

Death yanked a scatter grenade off of his armor and leapt out from behind the broken piece of wall that had been shielding him. He drew back his arm and threw it with all his strength at his enemy gliding on the wind overhead. He felt the blast of bright red energy just as his eyes watched his weapon explode against one raven feathered wing.

Searing pain flashed through his whole body. Pure energy raced across his nerves and synapses in his brain misfired rapidly. Battle was waged deep in every fiber of his being as the deadly blast from Cupid God of War fought for dominance with a 5000 year old quickening. Little by little, the pain lessened and the hellish graveyard that was this world, slowly came back into focus.

Ignoring his healing wounds, Death pushed himself to his feet. Gripping the high powered automatic rifle, he loaded a full clip into place and reached out with his mind to locate his enemy. It was an easy thing to do. The insane WarGod had hunted down and murdered all the Immortals on this world, taking their heads and stealing their Quickenings. Cupid was the last full powered Olympian,... and the last Immortal. Until now... Death planned to take that Quickening he could sense just beyond the ridge.

Fighting pain and the urge to faint, Death clambered over blackened stone and withered corpses until he stood at the top of the ridge looking down into a shallow pitted gorge of heat melted rock. There at the bottom lay Cupid.

The dark God was trying to heal, his God powers and the stolen Quickenings aiding him greatly. His left wing was gone. A shredded bloody mess was all that remained. Even as he watched, Death could see the burns and cuts heal and close. Shrapnel worked it's way from deep inside the battered flesh to fall away onto the scoured ground.

Death could feel the buzz of Immortality tingle up his spine into his throbbing head and knew that his enemy could as well. As if in answer to that unspoken thought, the mad God looked up the gorge and grinned at Death.

Without waiting for another second to pass, Death raised his weapon and fired. Large armor piercing bullets rained down on the deranged and deformed God, shredding his flesh. Blood and skin and feathers danced through the air only to rain down on a parched and frozen earth. Pain filled cries and curses assaulted his ears, even over the deadly barrage of sound from the gun. His enemy twisted and turned trying to escape the metal rain of death, but his ruined wings would not carry him away. Death smiled.

He watched as his enemy dropped to the blood soaked ground in a torrent of agony. He could feel the power of the stolen Quickenings already begin the work of healing shattered bone and torn flesh. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up at the feel of Cupid gathering his God power and Death dropped and rolled, barely missing being struck by a blast of red-tinged black energy. Running in a crouch, Death came up to his enemy and looked deep into Cupid's eyes. Madness looked back.

Reaching into a special sheath strapped tightly to his back, Death drew out a long and ancient dagger. Reddish-brownish gore clung to it's long and sharp blade. Death gripped the handle tightly and sent up a prayer of thanks to the long dead Golden Hind.

"There can be only one."

Without a second thought, Death plunged the poison dagger into the heart of his enemy. Cupid's body shrunk in on itself slightly and then expanded out once more in a final breath before collapsing in the throes of death. With hollow and dark eyes, Death drew his ancient sword. A single clean sweep of his razor edged blade severed the head of his enemy from his body.

It may not have been the world he was born to, but Death was willing to claim it's prize. With a patience born of 5000 years, he stood and waited for the Quickening. The ground began to rumble and the winds rushed past him. Dark heavy clouds gathered and spat blue lightening all around him. A heavy white mist that was shot through with red sparks of energy swirled along the ground moving inexorably closer to him.

With a suddenness that left him breathless, the mist enveloped him. It swirled around him faster and faster, whipping his hair and clothing. In a burst of blue-white light, a huge bolt of lightening blasted out of the sky and slammed into him, jolting all of his nerves at once. As if that was a key that unlocked his soul, the red tinged mist poured into him.

Pain. Searing, burning, all consuming pain.

Every nerve ending fried. Agony tore through him. Eating him, raping him, owning him.

Death fell to his knees under the overwhelming onslaught. He felt as if he was being torn into a thousand pieces and then dipped in molten rock. Tears poured down his cheeks unnoticed as he trembled in unending torment.

The Quickening of every Immortal that had ever lived on this world poured into him. Energy thrummed up and down his spine in ever increasing speeds. With their life-force, Death also absorbed their memories, their hopes and their dreams. Knowledge slammed into his mind, churning and swirling. Visions passed before his eyes and sounds rang in his ears. Names and faces he had never seen were sharp and clear to him.

Fear lanced him. How cold he ever be himself again? How could he ever sort and catalog all these minds that assaulted him at once? How could he survive this Quickening?

As if to mock his own unvoiced question, a new sensation began to flow through the singed and pain racked nerves of the Immortal called Death. Power, awareness, and energy sliced through him like a knife straight off the forge. The whole world seemed to tremble and shake as Death struggled to stay conscious as red sparks of energy raced over him, into him and through him. He felt his mind and understanding expand and waver.

His soul was on fire as liquid rage washed over him, swirling him, tearing him apart with razor fangs. Pain and woe poured in and merged with him, became one with him. Flashes of memory and clarity stole over him quickly, only to disappear into the murky waters of his mind once more. Slowly, the pain began to fade and the center of the storm within him began to grow calm.

Death pushed his awareness into that small place of light within the raging darkness of his very being and finally understood. Cupid, by hunting down all the Immortals and stealing the prize, had altered his very life-force. Now that Death had taken his head and the prize along with it, he had also taken Cupid's Godhood. The Hind's Blood Dagger had stolen Cupid's life and Death had stolen his Quickening and Godhood. That was why he felt such anger and pain. That was why the power levels rushing through him were so erratic and dangerously high.

Death opened his eyes and looked out at a dead and ravaged world. His world. He was now the last Immortal and the God of War here.

With the one last ounce of strength left in his overtaxed and agony ridden body, Death reached out and grabbed the glowing Sword of Power that was strapped to Cupid's side. Pulling it free, he grasped it in his hands tightly. The Sword's glow brightened in intensity and it began to shimmer, sending a bell like note of pure sound out into the world. In a flash of startlingly bright white light, the Sword of Power acknowledged it's new master.

Death fainted.

...o0O0o...

Hera, Goddess of the Dead, Queen of the Underworld stopped from her endless tasks and looked deep within herself. She felt Cupid's death and then the swift shifting of power. She felt the birth of the new God and shuddered. Even she wasn't sure if it was in sadness or joy.

Gathering her self together after such a shock was difficult, but she managed after a few moments. Gracefully, she rose from her desk and walked over to her throne. Seating herself and arranging her robes to their most regal and elegant pattern of folds, she sent out her awareness to all levels of her vast realm.

All the souls of all the dead stopped and listened. The voice of their Queen echoed throughout the Underworld.

"My children... Cupid, the God of War is dead. He had been defeated in battle. Know also, that his spirit will come to us here."

From every level of the underworld, from the deepest pits of pain to the highest places of paradise, rose the voices of the dead. Pain and sorrow expressed as pure sound. A dirge, a song of mourning. Voices lifted by ones and twos, then in groups until all of them joined in a harmony of loss and suffering. A God had died...

"My children... A new God has been born from the ashes of battle. He shall rise like the Phoenix and bring new life to the world above. He is both pain and relief, sadness and joy, good and evil, young and old... His is Death and yet he shall bring life into the world above."

Hera collapsed back into her throne. It was not often that the Gods could receive visions of the future and it usually fell to only the strongest among them. As it stood, only one God was stronger than she,... and that one currently lay in a healing trance upon a bloody battlefield.

Just as she was about to slip into a deep sleep of exhaustion herself, Hera heard a new sound rising and ringing through her realm. The dirge that had echoed through her land just moments before was altering, shifting, changing. The notes were sung just as strong, just as pure, but the sadness was draining away. Layer by layer the mourning gave way to the joyous celebration of rebirth. A requiem for the death of War and the rebirth of Death...



A Need to Know...

Richie sat at the large oak table eating a light lunch. He wasn't paying very much attention to the admittedly delicious food, instead, his thoughts were occupied by worry. It was more than just missing his lovers presence, although he did. Methos and he had been separated before though, but he had never felt such fear for his safety. After all, normally when Methos disappeared, he went to some remote place to meditate and avoid confrontations. This time, Methos had marched off into an alternate world to challenge a God. An insane one at that!

Richie refused to talk about it out loud, but he was afraid that he'd never see the old man again. He felt that if he said it to someone, then in some weird way, that would make it be true. So, in silent pain, Richie wallowed in dark thoughts with a heavy heart.

There were so many things that had never seemed very important at the time, but that he now realized, he was not ready to give up. He was finding it difficult to fall asleep without Methos muscled chest beneath his head and that strong steady heartbeat echoing all through him. Waking up was just as hard. The bed he was being provided seemed way too big and empty. While Strife was more than happy to let loose with a few well timed and humorous remarks at Richie's expense, it just didn't have the same flavor as it did when Methos teased him. And no one called him "Brat". What he wouldn't give to hear that beloved voice call him Brat just one more time...

A loud cheerful noise near the far end of the Dinning Hall caught his attention. Turning to look, he watched as Cupid God of Love and his lover, Strife God of Mischief walked in. The were laughing about something and they both seemed to be very happy. Richie saw the flash of total adoration on Strife's face when he glanced over at Cupid. It made his own heart clench up as he realized that it was the same expression he often wore around Methos. Adoration, respect, unconditional love...

Suddenly, Cupid stopped walking and laughing. A confused expression blossomed on his open face and then quickly twisted into one of agony. His bronze skin paled dramatically and he clutched at his chest, directly over his heart. With a thin breathy moan of pain, the God of Love collapsed. Strife screamed.

In a dizzying array of motion, sparkling energy, and burning ozone, chaos erupted in the Dinning Hall. Gods and Goddesses, only some of which Richie knew, and more that he didn't, flashed into the Hall. A myriad of voices rose and fell, suggestions and opinions were shouted and then ignored. Finally, one tall thin God that Richie had never met took control of the situation. In a flash of sparkles, the strange God whisked away the unconscious Cupid leaving a confused and upset crowd behind. By ones and twos, the remaining Olympians disappeared, until only Richie remained.

Shaking with fear, Richie stood from the table. He felt torn in two. He wanted to see if he could help the kind and friendly God that had taken him under his wing, literally, when he had been left behind. He also wanted to run to his missing lover and hold him tight. Contrary to what many people said or thought, Richie was not stupid. He knew that Cupid's sudden collapse had to do with whatever was happening in the Alternate Universe,... and that meant Methos.

~~~

After being reassured that Cupid God of War was no longer in his fortress, Joxer went to work on the locks on the prison door. The Olympians hadn't volunteered to do this and Joxer didn't ask. He knew that they needed to conserve all of their strength for just staying alive.

It didn't take him very long to get the thick door open, but it seemed to take forever to drag the Olympians away from Cupid's larder. He felt bad about that. They were all starving. They were deprived of the energy provided by the faith and life-force of their worshippers as well as the simple physical nutrition of food. All of them needed to eat to help them stay alive.

In a last ditch effort to get them away from the fortress before Cupid returned, Joxer rummaged around for some type of sack or container. He found something that sort of resembled a sea-bag, one of those long canvas sacks that are issued to all US Naval crewmen. It didn't take him very long to cram it full of the remaining food in the storage area.

Finally ready, the sorry and ill group of refuges limped through the empty and dark corridors of the Halls of War. As they passed various displays of weapons, Joxer encouraged everyone to arm themselves. No one refused, nor did they complain when Joxer selected weapons for himself. They did question, however...

Joxer came upon a cabinet filled with guns and ammunition. With practiced ease, he selected three of the pistols and loaded them with the appropriated bullets and clips. Grabbing extra clips, he tucked them into various pockets. Satisfied with his selection, he stepped aside and motioned for someone else to take up arms as well.

"Um... Joxer?"

Joxer turned and looked into the tired and pain etched face of Eris, his lovers twin. He was not sure what Eris was the Goddess of on this world, but she held very little resemblance to the feisty and often deadly Goddess that he had escorted to the Woodstock '99 concert. She was missing that air of danger and that sparkle of deceit that he adored in his sister-in-law.

"Yes?"

"Uh,... where did you learn about... guns?"

Joxer grinned at the faint note of distaste in her voice. The irony seemed to tickle him.

"Well,... Um... I learned with you. See, in my universe,... I'm the Consort to Ares, God of War and you're his sister... Goddess of Discord. Ares sort of insisted we both learn how to shoot as soon as they were invented. It was like a neat new toy for him..."

Joxer couldn't help giggle at the shocked look that crossed her wane, but still very beautiful face. One by one the others caught on, and soon, much of the tension had been released along with much laughter.

That all stopped in an instant, however. It was as if someone had flipped a switch. All of the Olympians grew silent and looked off towards the east as one.

"What?! What is it?"

"Cupid..." Aphrodite's voice was a whisper. "My son... he's... dead."

...o0O0o...

Richie looked away from the fire he had been staring into as soon as he smelled the scent of burning ozone that accompanied an Olympian when they transported into a room. In a shower of rose petals and red sparks, Strife and Aphrodite appeared before him. They both wore drawn and worried expressions on their faces.

"How is he?..."

"Not real good sweety. He's stable now, but..."

Aphrodite fell silent with a breathy little hitch in her voice. Her large soft eyes were sad and filled with tears.

"Uh,... he's like, in a coma or some such. They uh,... they don' know wha' caused it, an' all."

Strife's whole body language screamed worry and pain. He fidgeted a while, and then began to pace restlessly.

"They think it's from something that happened to the other Cupid. The one from the Alt World, but they don't know what. Without knowing what caused it, they can't cure him."

"Look, Richie,... uh, I know this is askin', like, a lot, but, ya see,... we can't go over there and..."

"You want me to go and find out what happened."

Richie looked up into two frightened, yet hopeful eyes. His own fear and worry about Methos flared anew. For a brief moment, a series of horrifying images of what could happen to him over there flashed before his eyes. A finger of ice creeped up his spine. He took a deep breath and firmly ignored his common sense.

"Yes. I'll do it."

Richie could feel the waves of relief and hope radiate from Strife and Aphrodite. Almost immediately, they began babbling at him rapidly about plans and equipment and location spells. Richie couldn't concentrate on what they were saying though, he was too busy questioning his sanity and feeling surges of anticipation rush over him. He was going to see Methos again...



From Death comes Life

Death felt a buzz of power forming slowly in the back of his mind. Little by little, that sensation pulled him out of oblivion and into awareness. It was growing steadily stronger. It was also very familiar.

Opening his eyes, Death noted that he was laying upon the hard rocky ground. Blinking his eyes to clear it of dust, he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position. A chill wind blew across the harsh landscape. Barren nothingness greeted his sight. Turning his head around, he finally saw a lone figure off in the distance.

At once, a memory assaulted him. The strange tingling feeling of power in his head... it was nothing more than an echo. An echo of the Quickening power radiating from the solitary warrior walking slowly towards him.

Standing up, Death turned to face his challenger. A cruel grin spread across his face as he noted that the Immortal heading his way was no where near in strength and power as he was. With steady hands, Death adjusted his armor and prepared himself for battle.

As the figure approached closer, a small frown marred the hauntingly beautiful features of the new God of War. The Quickening signature he could feel emanating from the newcomer was,... familiar. He knew this Immortal. But from where?

Curiosity peaked, Death gathered his power around himself. With an iron will, he transported himself across the intervening distance. A disorienting wave of nausea swept over him, but rapidly receded. It was followed by a flash of darkness and then a shower of gold sparkles. Suddenly, the world swam into focus again.

The Immortal before him was young in appearance as well as years. His red hair lay in sweat soaked curls and his skin was creamy. Somehow, Death knew that skin would be soft and warm to the touch. The boy was dressed in armor similar to his own and carried weapons and spells as well. His expression however, started out as shock, but quickly changed to one of relief and pleasure. This confused Death. Who was this boy?

In a move that almost cost the young one his head, the boy opened his arms wide and flung himself at Death. He then wrapped his arms tightly around the newest Gods neck and held on tightly. Death could feel the happiness and love radiate from the boy.

"Oh Methos... I'm so glad I found you. I was so worried. I,... I missed you."

The sound of his voice conjured up many memories,... as did the name Methos. Visions out of the past swirled around him and vied for dominance with the many new memories and personalities he had absorbed in the latest quickening. The chaotic clutter in his mind threatened to overwhelm him and in a brief flash of panic he pulled back away to look into the strangers face. Suddenly, everything clicked into place with a crystal clarity. Who the boy was,... who he was,... where he was,... and why.

"Richie?... What are you..."

He never got to finish what he was going to say. In a swift move born of unnecessary fear and a long denied hunger, Richie pulled him back in close and kissed him. Long and deep. The overwhelming energy locked inside him from the quickening and his recent elevation into Godhood flared into a desperate desire. Instantly, he was hard.

He squeezed his lover in tight and kissed him back with all the passion and lust that was consuming him. Taste exploded across his awareness. Sweet and hot and beautiful. Richie... Tongues dueled for dominance for a moment, and then with a shudder of pleasure, Richie submitted to him and gave up control.

Need flared white hot within him and he reached up with shaky hands and fought with the buckles and clasps that held his lovers armor in place. Finally, in a fit of frustration, Death flexed his newborn powers once again and the armor fell away from both of them. Standing gloriously naked within each others arms, he relished to sensation of hot skin against his own. He was right,... Richie's pale creamy skin was soft to the touch. Silken even.

Waves of emotion flowed over him and he instinctively knew they were from Richie. Love, trust, respect and desire... all directed at him. They were like sweet flowing wine for his parched and dusty soul. Images, memories actually, of earlier, happier times flashed through his mind. They were all from Richies mind and they were beautiful to Methos. A long, throaty moan of pleasure pulled the new God of War back into the present and he kissed his lover again.

Desire and need thrumming through his system, Methos couldn't wait any longer. Gently guiding him, he lay Richie back onto the ground and settled on top of him. The heat from his lovers bodies seared him in a delicious way. Pleasure coursed along nerves that had so recently known only pain. In an erotically wanton expression of submission and desire, Richie spread his long legs wide and thrust his erection up against Death. Methos moaned...

He didn't even remember willing the lube into existence, he just recognized that it was there. Working as fast as he could to stretch Richie's tight opening, Methos felt his desire rise to impossible levels. Hoping it was enough, he could hold back no more. He lined up his cock and slowly thrust inside of Richie's body.

Heat. Tight wet heat.

Amazingly intense pleasure washed over him from his cock outwards. His skin tingled and his eyes clenched tight. It took every bit of will power he had to keep from cuming right then and there. Trembling, he took a deep breath.

"Ohhh,... pleeease. Methoooosss..."

Richie's voice was a throaty whisper and it played along his nerves like a soft feather that just barely tickles. He shivered. Slowly, he pulled back out and then slid back in. He could feel Richie's pleasure wash over him and meld with his own. His control snapped.

He rapidly picked up speed and power, thrusting deeply into his lover. Richie arched and rocked with him, moaning his name. Faster and faster they moved, their bodies working together in a beautiful dance of joining. Emotions swirled higher and higher. Methos could sense Richie's love for him and he could feel his own love for Richie. He wanted to somehow find a way to let Richie share in the wonderful sensation of shared emotions, even as they shared their bodies. He wanted to project his love for the young Immortal outward.

Just as that thought took hold of his mind, Richie reached orgasm. Hot cum splashed against his chest and Richies strong muscles clamped down on his cock like a vise. In a heady rush of overwhelming sensation, Death followed his lover into climax. His seed pulsed deep inside of Richie at the same time as his love for the sweaty red-head poured out of him in an expanding concentric wave.

Methos collapsed in a trembling heap of satisfaction on top of his lover. Richie's arms came around him and clung to him tightly. He closed his eyes and listened to the breathy murmurs of love and devotion as a warm feeling of bliss surrounded him.

After a few moments of this sweet enjoyment, Richie's soft voice broke off with a startled gasp. Methos opened his eyes. All around them, in an ever widening circle, the earth was slowly healing. The poison and radiation was slowly being leached out of the land and air. Tiny green blades of grass were shyly pushing their way up out of loose soil that was moments before heat blasted rock. Even the breeze smelled sweeter.

"It's a miracle."

The new God of War could only nod silently and agree.



Counsel of War

Before Joxer had time to ask another question, Ares God of Love grabbed hold of him and pulled him into a tight hug. He heard the words "hang on tight" whispered softly in his ear only seconds before the world dissolved in a swirling mix of colors and sounds. Joxer idly wondered if he was going to vomit. He had journeyed Between several hundred times with his Ares, but it had never been this bumpy of a ride.

With a sickening lurch, everything slammed back into place, and he was suddenly somewhere else. A quick glance showed him that Ares God of Love looked just as nauseous as he felt. For some twisted reason, that fact made him feel better. Several loud pops and a lot of glittering sparkles later, and all of the Alternate Universe Olympians also transported into view. Truth be told, none of them looked very good,... it wasn't just Ares.

Joxer looked around himself. He didn't really recognize anyplace on this world due to the massive destruction everywhere, but this place was... green! There were new grass shoots poking up through the soil and a fresh breeze blew in the sunshine. It was amazingly beautiful after so much unrelenting chaos. And right smack dab in the middle of it was... Methos!!!!

A very naked Methos with an equally naked young red-head! Next to him, Ares whistled in appreciation. Joxer didn't know if it was for the new born grass or his naked teacher. Either way, Joxer could only nod in agreement.

Joxer watched as Methos, with one last kiss to his blushing lover, stood up and grabbed hold of a sword. A part of Joxer's mind was screaming at him about that sword while he watched the young Immortal also rush to his feet. Then, Methos turned and grinned at him and it was as if all the years suddenly rolled away.

"Ancient!"

With a cry of happiness, Joxer grabbed hold of the oldest Immortal, his one time teacher and long time friend. It felt good to be held in his arms again. A feeling of safety that he hadn't felt since Cupid abducted him washed over him in warm waves.

At the thought of Cupid, Joxer finally realized what it was about the sword that had bothered him. He also remembered what Aphrodite had said. A chill shivered down his spine at the implications. He pulled out of the embrace and looked his old teacher in the eye.

"Ancient,...where did you get that?"

Joxer pointed to the symbol of Cupid God of War's Godhood. It was so like Ares's that it gave him goosebumps.

"I got it from Cupid. We fought over there."

Death pointed to the east.

"I stabbed him in the heart with the Hind's Blood Dagger,... then I took his head."

"What! Why?"

Aphrodite looked shocked.

"Why?... He had killed all the Immortals on this world and he stole the prize. I took it from him. It wasn't his to have."

His words were cold and hard. From the look on his lover's face, he didn't know about this either. He stopped trying to put on his armor and looked up at Methos with a confused look of worry.

"Uh, Old man,..."

Methos looked at Richie and waved his hand. The youths armor reappeared whole, as did his own. Richie flinched and looked down at himself in shock.

"Yes?"

"Huh?... Oh! Um,... I was just wondering if that had anything to do with what happened to our Cupid."

Joxer felt his face go pale and his heart clenched in fear. Our Cupid?!?! He dashed forward and grabbed the young man by his shoulder to get his attention.

"What! What happened to Cupid!?"

Richie glanced back and forth from Methos to Joxer. Methos nodded and Richie started to speak. It was obvious from his tone of voice that he was worried and upset.

"Well, yesterday morning, while He and Strife were walkin' over to have breakfast with me, he sorta collapsed. He, uh... grabbed his chest like this," Richie clutched at his chest over his armor and stiffened up, "then he fell to the floor unconscious. He's been asleep ever since."

Joxer paled. Cupid was his son-in-law and one of his dearest friends. A desperate need to see the Love God flooded his mind.

"I need to get home. I gotta see him. I have to be there for him and Ares and Dite'. I,... where's the portal?"

"Wait!"

Queen Aphrodite's grief ravaged voice cut through the random babble as well as Joxer's budding panic. She walked across the uneven ground slowly, the remnants of her grace and beauty still evident. Slowly, gently, she reached out and laid one delicate hand on Methos brow. She frowned in concentration. Finally, she sighed and removed her hand.

"The transfer of Cupid's power into you was complete. You are the God of War here. Once you remove the Hind's Blood Dagger from my son's chest, Hera Queen of the Underworld can remove his body to the Elusion Fields. That will cure your Cupid from his illness."

Richie turned to look at the Black robed Goddess with the sad eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Aphrodite simply nodded. A single tear rolled down her cheek. It was the only one shed for the dead God.

Methos nodded and turned to face the east. He wore a look of abstract concentration on his handsome features. His eyes were unfocused and his lips were pursed. Suddenly, he waved his arm in a wide arc that ended with him pointing to a spot right before them all. With a hollow sound and a small shower of sparks, Cupids ruined corpse appeared. There were many startled gasps and a few retching sounds as most of the Olympians turned away from the horror.

With a cold expression and haunted eyes, Joxer watched his teacher calmly walk over and yank the Enchanted Dagger out of the lifeless chest of the former God of War. A last small ripple of energy escaped the wound...

~~~

In a separate Universe, in a beautiful Olympian Temple, Cupid God of Love gasped, coughed, and then opened his eyes to find his lover and his mother leaning over him. They were both laughing and crying, all at the same time. He smiled at them...

The good news was spread swiftly, and soon the room was filled to overflowing with cheering and laughing Gods and Goddesses.

~~~

Methos stared at the Dagger for a brief moment and then tucked it back into the sheath at the back of his neck. None of the other Gods or Goddesses challenged him for it. None were that stupid.

"Ready to go?"

Joxer gestured to Methos and his lover. Methos nodded and reached out his hand for the youngster. The three off-worlders turned to go when Ares God of Love stood up and dashed after them.

"Wait! No!"

They all turned to look at him. He seemed half excited and half desperate. He addressed Methos directly.

"Please! Don't go!"

Methos raised one eloquent eyebrow in an expression Joxer knew well.

"You see the grass? It's from you. You're love for this one."

Ares pointed at the young red-head.

"Please stay. The two of you can heal this world. We need you. Please!"

Methos looked down at the grass covered ground and then over at his lover. His brow crinkled up in thought and then in typical Methos fashion, he shrugged.

"Let me think about it. This is not only my choice."

With that, the two Immortals and the new God of War linked hands and disappeared.



War's Love

Before Joxer had time to ask another question, Ares God of Love grabbed hold of him and pulled him into a tight hug. He heard the words "hang on tight" whispered softly in his ear only seconds before the world dissolved in a swirling mix of colors and sounds. Joxer idly wondered if he was going to vomit. He had journeyed Between several hundred times with his Ares, but it had never been this bumpy of a ride.

With a sickening lurch, everything slammed back into place, and he was suddenly somewhere else. A quick glance showed him that Ares God of Love looked just as nauseous as he felt. For some twisted reason, that fact made him feel better. Several loud pops and a lot of glittering sparkles later, and all of the Alternate Universe Olympians also transported into view. Truth be told, none of them looked very good,... it wasn't just Ares.

Joxer looked around himself. He didn't really recognize anyplace on this world due to the massive destruction everywhere, but this place was... green! There were new grass shoots poking up through the soil and a fresh breeze blew in the sunshine. It was amazingly beautiful after so much unrelenting chaos. And right smack dab in the middle of it was... Methos!!!!

A very naked Methos with an equally naked young red-head! Next to him, Ares whistled in appreciation. Joxer didn't know if it was for the new born grass or his naked teacher. Either way, Joxer could only nod in agreement.

Joxer watched as Methos, with one last kiss to his blushing lover, stood up and grabbed hold of a sword. A part of Joxer's mind was screaming at him about that sword while he watched the young Immortal also rush to his feet. Then, Methos turned and grinned at him and it was as if all the years suddenly rolled away.

"Ancient!"

With a cry of happiness, Joxer grabbed hold of the oldest Immortal, his one time teacher and long time friend. It felt good to be held in his arms again. A feeling of safety that he hadn't felt since Cupid abducted him washed over him in warm waves.

At the thought of Cupid, Joxer finally realized what it was about the sword that had bothered him. He also remembered what Aphrodite had said. A chill shivered down his spine at the implications. He pulled out of the embrace and looked his old teacher in the eye.

"Ancient,...where did you get that?"

Joxer pointed to the symbol of Cupid God of War's Godhood. It was so like Ares's that it gave him goosebumps.

"I got it from Cupid. We fought over there."

Death pointed to the east.

"I stabbed him in the heart with the Hind's Blood Dagger,... then I took his head."

"What! Why?"

Aphrodite looked shocked.

"Why?... He had killed all the Immortals on this world and he stole the prize. I took it from him. It wasn't his to have."

His words were cold and hard. From the look on his lover's face, he didn't know about this either. He stopped trying to put on his armor and looked up at Methos with a confused look of worry.

"Uh, Old man,..."

Methos looked at Richie and waved his hand. The youths armor reappeared whole, as did his own. Richie flinched and looked down at himself in shock.

"Yes?"

"Huh?... Oh! Um,... I was just wondering if that had anything to do with what happened to our Cupid."

Joxer felt his face go pale and his heart clenched in fear. Our Cupid?!?! He dashed forward and grabbed the young man by his shoulder to get his attention.

"What! What happened to Cupid!?"

Richie glanced back and forth from Methos to Joxer. Methos nodded and Richie started to speak. It was obvious from his tone of voice that he was worried and upset.

"Well, yesterday morning, while He and Strife were walkin' over to have breakfast with me, he sorta collapsed. He, uh... grabbed his chest like this," Richie clutched at his chest over his armor and stiffened up, "then he fell to the floor unconscious. He's been asleep ever since."

Joxer paled. Cupid was his son-in-law and one of his dearest friends. A desperate need to see the Love God flooded his mind.

"I need to get home. I gotta see him. I have to be there for him and Ares and Dite'. I,... where's the portal?"

"Wait!"

Queen Aphrodite's grief ravaged voice cut through the random babble as well as Joxer's budding panic. She walked across the uneven ground slowly, the remnants of her grace and beauty still evident. Slowly, gently, she reached out and laid one delicate hand on Methos brow. She frowned in concentration. Finally, she sighed and removed her hand.

"The transfer of Cupid's power into you was complete. You are the God of War here. Once you remove the Hind's Blood Dagger from my son's chest, Hera Queen of the Underworld can remove his body to the Elusion Fields. That will cure your Cupid from his illness."

Richie turned to look at the Black robed Goddess with the sad eyes.

"Are you sure?"

Aphrodite simply nodded. A single tear rolled down her cheek. It was the only one shed for the dead God.

Methos nodded and turned to face the east. He wore a look of abstract concentration on his handsome features. His eyes were unfocused and his lips were pursed. Suddenly, he waved his arm in a wide arc that ended with him pointing to a spot right before them all. With a hollow sound and a small shower of sparks, Cupids ruined corpse appeared. There were many startled gasps and a few retching sounds as most of the Olympians turned away from the horror.

With a cold expression and haunted eyes, Joxer watched his teacher calmly walk over and yank the Enchanted Dagger out of the lifeless chest of the former God of War. A last small ripple of energy escaped the wound...

~~~

In a separate Universe, in a beautiful Olympian Temple, Cupid God of Love gasped, coughed, and then opened his eyes to find his lover and his mother leaning over him. They were both laughing and crying, all at the same time. He smiled at them...

The good news was spread swiftly, and soon the room was filled to overflowing with cheering and laughing Gods and Goddesses.

~~~

Methos stared at the Dagger for a brief moment and then tucked it back into the sheath at the back of his neck. None of the other Gods or Goddesses challenged him for it. None were that stupid.

"Ready to go?"

Joxer gestured to Methos and his lover. Methos nodded and reached out his hand for the youngster. The three off-worlders turned to go when Ares God of Love stood up and dashed after them.

"Wait! No!"

They all turned to look at him. He seemed half excited and half desperate. He addressed Methos directly.

"Please! Don't go!"

Methos raised one eloquent eyebrow in an expression Joxer knew well.

"You see the grass? It's from you. You're love for this one."

Ares pointed at the young red-head.

"Please stay. The two of you can heal this world. We need you. Please!"

Methos looked down at the grass covered ground and then over at his lover. His brow crinkled up in thought and then in typical Methos fashion, he shrugged.

"Let me think about it. This is not only my choice."

With that, the two Immortals and the new God of War linked hands and disappeared.


Whole New World

Richie Ryan was very excited. It had been two decades since he and Methos had traveled back to the Alternate World in an effort to heal it. It had taken a lot of work and effort on everyone's part,... not to mention making love to his own personal God in many weird and unusual places,... but everything was finally ready.

In way of thanks for everything they had suffered, and all the sacrifices they had made in order to return Joxer, cure Cupid God of Love, and then dedicate themselves to fixing the horrifying mistakes of the alternate worlds God of War, the Olympians on their "home" world had offered help any way they could. They had gathered any requested materials to help cleanse and revive the alternate world and then promised to give 1000 mortals each to repopulate the alternate universe.

Over the past two decades, Richie and Joxer had spent much of their time traveling back and forth through the vortex portal, with Ares and Methos, the two Gods of War acting as anchors. At first, they brought over lots of plants. After a few years of hauling seeds, sprouts, bulbs and saplings, they had moved on to various small furry and winged creatures.

Only a tossed out comment from Strife had ensured that they brought over fish eggs to restock the once poisoned freshwater and saltwater lakes, oceans and rivers with various types of scaly things. Poseidon had lectured the young Immortal six ways till Sunday on the care and feeding of each species before he would release them into Richie's care. It was only just recently, in the last few years that he and Joxer brought across the larger predators and mammals.

In lee of sentient worshippers, each of the alternate world Gods and Goddesses had "adopted" an assortment of plants and animals to care after and to protect. The flourishing lives seemed to help strengthen the failing Olympians and they responded with devotion and adoration to their non-sentient "children". In the aftermath of such overwhelming destruction and flagrant horror brought on by the former God of War, it seemed that all life had suddenly become priceless to the once arrogant Gods and Goddesses.

Each of the transplanted plants and animals had a rough time adjusting to their new world. The residue of the massive toxins and radiation that had been loosed were still very much present and were causing rampant sickness. It was by accident alone that a cure was discovered. It was a simple change on a biological level that Richie didn't quite understand, but it worked. The God or Goddess who took charge of a certain species would effect that change and then encourage them to breed. Thus, whole new creatures were, in a sense, being born.

Now, after long years of hoping and desperate longing, the big day had finally arrived. Humans were to be transported. The Counsel of Twelve, the Sons and Daughters of Zeus King of Olympus on the "home world" had each chosen 1000 humans to cross over. The counterparts of those 12 Olympians had joined up with the remaining of their number to discuss what had to be done to change them in order to allow them to survive the altered atmosphere and water. After all the arguments and discussions were over, it was decided that 12 new species of humanoids would be born. 12 races of man...

Centaurs... half man and half horse.
Satyrs... half man and half goat.
Mermen... half man and half fish.
Dracons... half man and half lizard.
Elves... tall, willowy and magical.
Dryads... short, delicate and able to communicate with plants.
Ogres... half man and half ape.
Dwarfs... short, strong and an affinity for metal.
Wolfen... half man half wolf.
Minotaurs... half man half bull.
Felions... half man half cat.
Windriders... half man half bird of prey.

Yes, Richie was excited and a little afraid. Today was the accumulation of much work and patience. His beloved would be an official God. Actually worshipped by a race of man,... and he would be his Immortal Consort.

The process would be simple enough,... Ares God of War would anchor one end of the portal, Methos God of War would anchor the other. Since only Immortals and mortals, but not Gods could go through, it would be up to him and Joxer to usher the people through to their new world. As they came across, they would be given over to their new God and or Goddess and the other Olympians which had been chosen to support and help with the change. They would be transformed and then relocated to the corner of the world that would then become theirs to rule.

Yes, it was a big step, an exciting step,... a frightening step. He shivered at the implications of it all.

He and Joxer had even been given titles and duties as the only "Olympians" that could cross the portal. They were the Eternal Gate Keepers. Richie smiled at that. It had started as another one of Strife's causal comments that everyone had latched on to. A delicate eyebrow raised up as Richie noted once again that a lot of ideas originated with Strife, although the friendly trouble-maker rarely was given credit. Richie shrugged. At least he knew of and often acknowledged his friends hidden genius.

A light and familiar touch on his shoulder pulled his mind from his swirling thoughts and back to the present. He leaned briefly into Methos tough and sighed. His love for the old man never wavered and only seemed to grow the longer they were together.

"Ready Brat?..."

"Yeah, Old Man. I'm ready..."

"Good."

Richie turned and watched Methos walk over to the growing crowd of Olympians. The God whom many called Death, War, Righteous Vengeance or even simply Violent Change, planted his feet solidly on the newly green grass and his face twisted into one of concentration. A light sheen of sweat beaded up on his forehead and his body tightened up as he reached out into the cosmos and grappled with energies that Richie was very familiar with even though he only vaguely understood it.

Suddenly, the wind picked up and the clouds raced far over head. A tingling sensation of static electricity washed over the air, making the hair on his body stand at attention. Then, with a clap of thunder and a sizzling bolt of lightening, the vortex portal opened up once more.

With a deep breath to steady his nerves and brace up his courage, Richie Ryan, Immortal Consort to Methos, God of War and Eternal Gate Keeper to the Twin Worlds dashed forward and leaped through time and space to retrieve the first wave of mortals that would populate his lovers new world...



END