Title: Dream a Little Dream
Series: general crossover universe
Author: akire
Email: akire@mailcity.com
Status: C/U
Category: Crossover: Highland/Archetype plus mention of other players
in my Universe. 
Spoilers: umm, got a basic grasp of the Highlander universe?  Fine.  Oh
yeah, we're a Clan Denial fanfic. 
 Disclaimers:  D/P really DO own them.  If you don't recognize it, its
probably mine.  If it's silly or crazy, definitely is mine.  But if
anyone sends the lawyers after me, I'm sending out the boys with swords
;)  Oh yeah, and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.  If you
recognize a specific fanfic creation, it belongs to its author (when
this series is finished, I may tally them up) 
Rating: PG, prob.  Hey, I'm not offended by much, if it should be rated
higher, tell me! 
Content Warning: purists beware.  Language may offend some readers. 
Summary: Reia has a little dream
Dedication:  Mama Cass ;)  Come on, can there be anyone else? 
Notes:  The quote is from the end of Farscape, season one.  Just FYI ;)

That's long enough. On with the show!


A faint mist blew in to settle over Paris.  The clock on the tower hit
twelve, its deep sonorous rings echoing into the night.  Behind locked
bedroom doors, a redhead with a deceiving face tossed and turned under
the covers.

As the last of the clock chimes was swallowed by the misty darkness,
the woman sighed and settled.  Soon, the rapid flicker of her eyes
beneath closed lids was the only movement from her otherwise still

An owl fluttered by her closed window, cooing its distinct cry.

Reia dreamed.


The clash of swords, the tangy stench of spilt blood, the almost
continuous flicker and flare of exploding Quickenings.  It was as if
someone had taken her every nightmare, combined it with the memory of
every battleground she had walked, rolled it up and let it loose in the
thunderstorm of the century.

She sniffed like a hunter, stalking through the battle ground.  Soon it
would be time to fight.  Only uncounted years of training and self-
discipline kept her from diving into the fray.  Her cells themselves
seemed to be screaming for blood, but she refrained from engaging in
battle.  Taking a Quickening amongst this pack would leave her
vulnerable long enough for some upstart to take her head.

She did not survive to see the Gathering only to loose out now.

Others were holding back as well, and she met their eyes with the wary
respect of one master warrior to another.  Soon she anticipated that
even that would give way as primal urges overrode all.  

The battle she was passing ended with a sudden blow, the loser's head
coming to rest next to her boots.  She flipped it with her toe to
glance without feeling at the face before moving on, feeling the
electric kiss of the Quickening lick across her shoulders as she walked
away.  For the briefest moment she saw a mortal wife, adopted children,
a white picket fence to keep in a yapping puppy.

Another man's life, gone now.

She walked on. 


Their numbers were decreasing now.  The impetuous were fighting each
other, taking heads.  Those with sense but no self-control were
stepping in to clean up the victors of each battle as they lay in the
throes of the Quickening.  And so on.  And around the edges of the
battling pack, watching with ice-cold eyes, were the true Hunters of
their kind.

She recognized more faces outside of the pack than within.  Methos.
Danya.  Blaer.  Mac and Connor, staying almost directly opposite each
other, as if afraid of coming face to face in the final combat.
Richie, at their mid-point, forming another cross section with Methos. 
Amanda.  Lara.  Sydney.  Nigel.  She nodded and smiled as she tallied
up their number.  There were nearly that number again that she couldn't
recognize, but there were only a few faces missing.  She could not see
them either in the pack or on the ground either.  They must have been
cleaned up in days of frenzy that lead up to this final battle.

She seemed unable to feel for them.  In fact, she didn't feel much at
all.  Except...calm.  She felt calm, and ready for this. 

    ...fear indicates the possibility of death.  Calm
    shepherds its certainty.

She couldn't recall where she had heard that saying, didn't much care. 
But it suited what she was feeling now.

The ground was muddy under her boots.  She looked up at the grey,
ominous sky, momentarily confused.  Then she realized why the ground
was slick.

Bodies that had been beheaded did tend to bleed out.  And there were an
awful lot of corpses here today.  No matter, she had trained herself to
fight on all surfaces.  Mud, whatever its composition, no longer
bothered her.

The pack battling it out for the minor placings was starting to thin
enough to get her attention.  Already some of the edges of the pack
were looking with speculative, hungry eyes, towards the Hunters on the
periphery.  She smiled and tightened her grip on her sword.

The first few forays out of the middle did not come near her.  She
scanned the area around her, looking for possible opponents.  Instead,
she met bright blue eyes.  A battling pair stepped into her line of
sight, but Danya stepped back, saluted her with his sword.  She
returned the salute.  She once swore that she would never lift her
blade against him without direct provocation.  She didn't feel like
breaking her word, not when there were other targets on which to vent
the bloodlust she felt building.

One of the pack came stumbling towards.  She grinned, licked her lips,
and swung.  Another Quickening arced through the air.

It took her a few precious seconds for the blue haze to fade from her
eyes.  Even then, she could never remember recovering so quickly.  Was
this another characteristic of the Gathering?  She dismissed the
thought as quickly as it had occurred.  Her sword had automatically
returned to the defensive position, and from this stance she leapt out
towards the next victim to stray to close to her.

It was the Gathering.  That was all she needed to know.

The numbers of people still walking was dropping rapidly, the pauses
between bouts getting longer and longer.  Reia used one of those pauses
to quickly kick a few heads out from underfoot.  She had stayed in one
place, and the bodies of her opponents were stacking up like a bunker
around her.  She took in her situation in a glance.  If she stayed in
the same position much longer, she'd trap herself.

Decision made, she leapt nimbly over the nearest stack and waded onto
the Gathering ground proper.  She cast a dispassionate eye over the
body-strewn field.  A stray thought entered her head.  'Why this

She snorted, no longer smelling the blood and excrement of the dead.
Why not?  She heard footsteps stumble behind her and spun to meet the
newest threat.

The curly red hair had been plastered down on one side, as if a blood-
soaked hand had automatically run through the hair, pushing it out of
the way.  Reia met the other man's eyes and paused.

Blaer.  Her favourite pupil and surrogate son. She took a step
backwards, swapped a nod with her protégé, and both turned to look for
other opponents.

There were only a few people still walking, some in pairs.  All were
converging together.  Exhaling slowly, some glimmer of feeling getting
past the mental blocks she had felt since the call of the Gathering,
she moved to stand with the others in a loose, wary ring.  Despite the
fact that she knew and cared for each of them, she kept her sword in
the guard position as she studied their faces.

The Gathering call seemed loud in her ears.  Kill them, it urged.
Strike them down before they come for you.  She took a deep breath, and
mentally told the voice to shut the hell up.

The dozen friends stood in a circle, surrounded by death.  One by one,
swords were lowered until the tips were pointed at the ground.  Each
looked in the other's eyes, and saw that the destructive lust that
drove them here was fading under the force of will, the determination
not to strike down friend or lover.

Above them, the grey clouds roiled once, grumbling to itself.

No one said a word.

Finally, as if by silent agreement, they turned their backs and walked

It began to rain.


Reia sat bolt upright in bed, one hand automatically reaching out for
one of her handily concealed weapons.  Once the familiar sword hilt was
clutched in her hand, she forced herself to get a grip.

"It was dream.  It was just a dream."  Her eyes scanned around her
room, past the still locked door to the firmly shuttered windows.
Outside, rain tinkled softly against the glass.  Deliberately, she
slowed her breathing as she put her sword back into its stand and
reached instead for the notebook and pen she kept by her bedside.

Quickly, she sketched down the details of the already fading dream,
trying to include as many details as she could.  Not for the first time
did she curse her inability to draw faces.  Finally, back and arms
aching from writing in her awkward position, she finished documenting
the dream.  

She chewed on the end of her pen for a moment, then added a few lines
of commentary.

I didn't recognize the location, nor most of the combatants.
Besides, despite them having great skill and determination, I can't
honestly say that Richie or Nigel making it to the very end of the
Gathering is a safe bet.  I know my dreams have come true in the past,
but whilst this is a very pleasant fantasy, it is nothing more.

It was only a dream.