Disclaimer: Jon and the concept of Immortality belong to Panzer/Davis. Pallas belongs to me.

Lyric Wheel Challenge: The Mortals. "What Might Have Been" by Little Texas given to my by Evil Morgana.  This is another that doesn't really fit into my Forever Sequence, also meaning that this is a completely different Pallas Minerva than the one we've grown to know and love.  Rated PG-13.  Enjoy!

Summer, 2010

The man walked into his office in the Watcher Headquarters of the Eastern United States and slumped in his desk chair. He hated his job, and everything that went with it. Being a researcher for the Watchers was not all that it was cracked up to be, especially when he was also the official liaison to the US government.

The United States government had found out about Immortals a few years ago.  Unfortunately, they had found out about the Watchers first. The Central Intelligence Agency had finally been convinced that Immortals were not a threat, and a deal had been struck. Let them observe an Immortal for themselves, and the CIA would be happy.

An Immortal was picked who already knew about the Watchers. Pallas Minerva, a Greek/American who had been adopted by Conner MacLeod in New York City as a teenager. She had become Immortal five years ago and taught by her father. Both Immortals had learned about the Watchers when the third member of the family had been recruited. She still thought her constant followers were Watchers. Her brother Jon had never said anything different.

Jon sighed and switched on his computer. As usual, he logged onto the Internet and checked his email first. His inbox contained two messages from other researchers, one general announcement from his boss, and the weekly report from the CIA. And finally, a message from his sister, who still lived in New York City and ran the old antique store. She liked to email him and complain about her current follower, since the CIA liked to train special operatives on her. Pallas had been a member of a street gang before being adopted, and had never lost her touch for instantly catching tails.

Dear Jon, the message read. This month's Watcher is even more annoying than the last, the woman who kept staring at me.  This guy thinks he's playing FBI, 'cause he dresses exactly like Mulder from that old show, The X-Files. It's hilarious! I was in Chinatown two days ago, and the guy actually left me behind to chase a shoplifter. I've decided to punish him for that, and he hasn't managed to find me yet. Amateurs. I'll expect him to be reprimanded accordingly. *grin* Anyway, I talked to Dad yesterday, and he sends his love from, get this, Japan! Of course, you probably knew that already, but I just thought I'd tell ya anyway. Gotta go, someone just walked into the store. I'll call you in a couple days. Love, Pallas.

Jon sighed. The CIA didn't know that Pallas was his sister and was getting increasingly insistent about capturing her for lab rat use. He had been wrestling with this decision for months now, and finally decided. It was time to tell Pallas about her supposed "Watchers."

One week later, Jon walked into Nash Antiques and glanced around the store. "I'll be right there!" someone shouted from the back room. A few minutes later, a tall woman appeared. "Jon!" Pallas shrieked happily, and gave her brother a hug. "What are you doing in New York?"

"I need to talk to you, Pallas, tonight," Jon said. "Can we meet for dinner?"

Pallas saw that her brother was extremely serious. "Of course, why don't you come over tonight. I'll even cook. Do you have a place to stay?"

Jon nodded. "I'll see you tonight." He said goodbye and walked out of the store. If the CIA saw him with her, they might get curious. Jon could never betray his sister. He vowed the CIA would never get her. Never.

"I don't believe it," Pallas said. After dinner, she and Jon had retired to the living room with glasses of wine. There he had told her exactly who her "Watchers" were, and what they wanted her for. "The CIA knows about Immortals? And they want me to use as a lab rat?"

Jon nodded. "I would advise that you ditch your current follower, use a different name and head for Japan. Dad's there, he'll be able to help." He sighed. "I'm really sorry, Pallas. I should've told you this a long time ago."

"That's okay, Jon," the young Immortal said. "Better that the government wants me and not every Immortal in the world." She took a sip of wine and walked to the window. Dropping her glass, she cried, "Oh, shit!"

Suddenly the door crashed open, and men dressed in black lined up with guns pointed in their direction. Jon leapt up from the couch, also dropping his glass, and glanced at his sister. From seemingly out of nowhere, Pallas had produced her katana and gun, which was trained at the men.

"Mr. MacLeod," one of the men said. "I would advise that you step away. We are here for Pallas Minerva. You do not need to get hurt."

"Like hell," Pallas said. Spinning around, she crashed out of the picture window behind her and dropped down to the street.  Three of the CIA agents ran to the window and shot at her retreating form. The operatives left downstairs ran down the street after her.

"No," Jon whispered as something heavy descended on his head, and the world went black.

Winter, 2035

Jon MacLeod stood at the living room window of his loft above Nash Antiques and ran his hand through his snow-white hair. It had been twenty-five long years since his sister had been captured and his father had disappeared. Jon had left the Watchers and taken over management of the old antique store, which had become a haven for Immortals in recent years.

Fifteen years ago the United States government had released the knowledge of Immortals to the public. Immediately after, the Immortal Holocaust had started. Huge numbers of people had been killed on mere suspicion of Immortality. Very few had woken up again. Entire country populations had gotten smaller during this time. Major cities had diminished considerably. The Gathering had practically ceased, for Immortals were constantly on the run. And today there were not many left.

The doorbell rang, the special one hidden outside. After the Watchers had been disbanded, many had set up an "Underground Railroad", contacting as many Immortals as possible. Nash Antiques was a recognized stop, and Immortals on the run knew it.  Jon hurried downstairs, as fast as his fifty-five year old body was able. Opening the door, he stopped in shock at the sight of the woman standing there. "Pallas?" he whispered.

"It's me, Jon," his sister said, glancing nervously around the street. "Can I come in?"

A few hours later, both were sitting in the same spots they had been that night so many years ago. Pallas was speaking with a haunted look in her eyes. "I was used as a lab rat for nine years. Mainly, they tested biological weapons on me, and tested my limits for pain, starvation, and such. In other words, they tortured me to death, countless of times. To them, I wasn't even human.  I was 'The Immortal.' Then after nine years it was 'Bye, thanks for your help, have a nice life.' I looked for Dad and Uncle Duncan, but then the Immortal Holocaust happened. I hid out in Wales with a group of Immortals, eight of us." She paused, and took a deep breath. "But then they found us, about two months ago. I'm the only one who got away. Victoria and Justin, Kane and Elizabet, Kenny and Moon, Laurana, my husband Richie, they're all dead." Tears were running unheeded down Pallas' face.  "They're all dead, and I ended up with the Quickenings."

Jon reached for his sister, and she collapsed in his arms. He held her silently for a few minutes before she pulled away. "I'm sorry, Pallas," he said. "It was all my fault.  I should have told you sooner."

She gave a short bark of laughter, and looked away. "You know, I used to think that. They never destroyed my mind, though they tried. I thought it was your fault for over five years. Then there was seven months where it was psychiatrist after psychiatrist.  I made it into a game and made them think I was normal, then crazy, then that I had different personalities and such." Pallas looked back at Jon. "Then came Dr. Benjamin Adams, an Immortal. He had somehow heard about me, and even though he knew he couldn't rescue me, he tried to help. He made me realize that it wasn't your fault."

"I try not to think about what might have been," Jon said. "If I had told you earlier, or something. Even today, I keep trying to think of ways to stop this Immortal Holocaust. I mean, we could sit and talk about this all night long, but too much time has gone by. It's no use."

Pallas stood up when her watch beeped. "Six hours," she said. "I have to move every six hours. And hope that they don't find me. Goodbye,  Jon. I love you." She disappeared down the stairs.

"Pallas, wait!" Jon cried. But his sister was gone.

The next morning, Jon switched on the small television as he opened the shop. "...And in local news, three more Watchers were arrested yesterday evening. Their home was searched, but no records were found. This morning, however, a female Immortal was captured in Central Park." Jon dropped the vase he had been dusting and it shattered on the ground. Ignoring it, he turned to face the television. "Its name was found to be Pallas Minerva MacLeod Ryan, aged fifty-two. This was the Immortal captured by the CIA twenty-five years ago, dubbed Typhoid Mary at the beginning of the Immortal Holocaust. It was executed according to international law, and its Quickening harvested." The newscaster smiled into the camera. "So now that Typhoid Mary has been captured, perhaps the last of the Immortal scum can be wiped off our Earth."

~finis~

"What Might Have Been"
By Little Texas

Sure I think about you now and then
But it's been a long, long time
I've got a good life now, I've moved on
So when you cross my mind

Chorus
I try not to think about
What might have been
'Cause that was then
And we have taken different roads
We can't go back again; there's no use giving in
And there's no way to know
What might have been

We could sit and talk about this all night long
And wonder why we didn't last
Yes, they might be the best days we will
Ever know
But we'll have to leave them in the past

Chorus (So try not to think about…)

That same old look in your eyes
It's a beautiful night
I'm so tempted to stay
But too much time has gone by
We should just say goodbye
And turn and walk away

Chorus (And try not to think about…)

No, we'll never know
What might have been

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This page was last updated: 2.22.5 ~jlg~