DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters, Paramount does, I am just using them for now. I am making no money whatsoever.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I must thank DeeJay for her great work as a Beta. Thank you for putting up with the minor (and major) changes and constant editing. And for the long break I took in writing this. Quew, thanks for your feedback. I thank you for putting up with some of my questions. I suggest two aspirins and a nap for the headache I gave you. :) Another big thank you goes out to BT for all his help with some of the translations and later beta work.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Crimson Tears
By Hayseven


Sometime around AD 800.

The forest was eerily silent, neither bird nor animal stirred. The creature went onwards, it had seemed like she had raced towards this point for all her life. The wind whipped her long golden hair about her face, but it went unheeded.

"Please, let them live, let it be not." Her senses knew though that all that was precious was lost, she had failed and for her treachery history would in time repeat.

The smell of blood, fire and death pervaded her senses, and coming to a stop at the crest of the hill, she surveyed the damage. A thousand plus men lay fallen, their spilled blood mingled and staining the grass.

Once lush fields of green and yellow were now blood red with hints of gold and green of once clean proud clothing. Glints of silver from their sword still shone despite the drying blood. Allowing her sight to stretch she knew a thousand more laid dead beyond the forest. All around dying embers blackened the ground, leaving angry marks.

"You were warned, interference and mingling with those creatures is forbidden. Now that race has gone the way of your precious dinosaurs."

The creature didn't need to turn around to know who had spoken, she had sensed him long before he spoke.

Slowly moving around the creature observed one of her kind. She knew one of them would come, in a strange way she was relieved it was him. He was as different to her as Sun was to moon. Both of them were striking, her golden hair a contrast to his dark black short hair. Another difference that would always divide them. He was shorter than her, but was similar in weight, both were slim and firm, their bodies in their prime.

They had long ago chosen paths that would forever prevent any unity, their differences and ideals preventing any common ground.

"Look at what lies before you. It was creed before us what would happen. You know the prophesy as I. Need I remind you."

A sneer appeared on his face. How he hated her, yet loved her all at once. Always crossing that line, her interest in this species something he could not fathom, nor abide.

"Two races apart, stand divided and in a bloody battle will destroy all that draws breath. After two nights and two days, a creature born of evil will rise. It shall tear apart the fabric of life and alter all that stands in its wake. Once proud creatures gone and beings of great power will pay for their part."

"Our very existence is being altered due to your fascination. We stand to be destroyed, yet you mourn for these fools. Their loathing parted them and though I understand your sentiment, you have started something that cannot be stopped. I won't bother with the rest of the prophesy, you know it as I. Our kind know it and fear it, for very good reason. It is a comfort to me that all before us is dead, perhaps our kind has a chance. Our kind will not forgive so easily your fondness for these lesser beings."

The male creature fell silent, he felt betrayed by her, yet still he cared for her. In a moment of kindness the darker creature spoke again.

"No more can be done for their kind, but you still may yet live. They hunt you seeking retribution, so go now. Nowhere are you safe from them, go while you are still able to. I will do what I can, but know this. I for one believe in this prophesy. We are young by our standards but I too have seen too much to ignore this. The time once again shall bring us close to oblivion, if not end us. So take leave or they will scatter you to the harsh winds."

With saying his piece and giving one final look at the carnage, was gone in a blink of an eye.

With a heavy heart, the lone creature felt despair like nothing ever experienced in all her existence. All her hopes and loves were gone. Closing her eyes and opening her senses she was shocked to sense a stirring. Not knowing what it was, she stretched her mind and in a flash appeared before the disturbance.

Surrounded by blood and decaying flesh she looked down upon the face of one she knew. The pale haired warrior was dying, her once lovely features etched in pain and sorrow. Her wounds were mortal and only her fierce determination to reach her sword prevented her from slipping into mighty Thor's arms.

The warrior's sword, crafted by the best smith, and made from only the best of metals, was not only a testament to her rank, but also to her faith in her gods. The pale woman was a legend of her people, a warrior respected and unrivalled.

Her good looks, lean strong body and smart cunning mind was par to none. Men and women, friend and foe, had competed for the woman's attention, after all, who could not resist her ruby red lips and eyes blue like a summer's sky.

The creature looked around, and not more than two feet from the dying warrior was her beloved sword imbedded deeply into the creature's friend, the warrior's nemesis. The sword's aim had been true, a fatal thrust to the chest, and the woman warrior she had clashed with was no more. The dark skinned warrior was a friend as well, and the creature had hoped to unite the two for life.

Now all was lost and it may yet spell the creature's doom. Slowly bending down and placing her hand on the slain dark woman's chest, she felt the warrior's cold body slick with mud and blood.

Briefly whispering words of love and asking for forgiveness, the creature leant over, kissed the woman's cheek and rose to her feet. Standing before the dark haired woman, she etched the memory into her mind, it would be a painful reminder of all she lost.

The creature leant over her dead friend's body and carefully grasped the sword. She pleaded for absolution as she pulled the sword from her chest, the slick sound of blood, bone and organs still stuck to the sword echoing somewhat loudly in the silence. Taking a moment to compose herself she wondered how it could all go so wrong.

Turning around she looked at the other woman. "Your sword fair one. Thor awaits you, he is proud of one so strong and fierce. Sif could not ask for one more brave. Valhalla awaits you."

Clutching the sword the warrior moved it across her swollen abdomen, one hand holding the sword, the other cradling her dirty shield. Somehow throughout the battle she had managed to keep a hold of it, even though the handle had broken in the heat of all the clashing.

The warrior was silent as the agony of the battle took its toll, she wanted so much to tell her friend how she felt, but the effort was too much. The creature could feel the woman slowly dying, and trying to ease her friend's pain, placed her hand over the wound and took some of the pain away.

Only now she felt the woman's pain tenfold, and cursed her youth. If she was older, more knowledgeable she could have healed the wounds, and prevented this horror.

"What of her, has she met her god too?"

In a voice filled with sorrow the creature spoke "Yes, with her sword in her hand. A noble warrior's death."

Using the last of her reserves the warrior slowly crawled a few feet and laid her body alongside that of the one whom inflicted the mortal wound.

"I did not wish this. We fought hard, but die parted, our differences too great. Perhaps in another lifetime Thor will see us together."

In a shuddering shaky breath, she kissed her enemy and with one hand on the other woman's chest, the other on her regal sword, she ceased to live. Two of her friends dead by the other's hand, over a feud that existed long before they had graced the earth.

The creature looked at the two brave warriors feeling a heavy heart. She sunk to the ground mourning what was not, and never will be. A lone red tear escaped her and dropped onto the ground. In a state of shock, she slowly came to the realisation that she could still feel another life force.

Glancing at the dead woman's stomach she become conscious that her pale haired friend's children still amazingly lived in her womb.

Crouching by the dead woman and in a superhuman effort she proceeded to rip apart the warriors skin and flesh to get to the unborn lives. Her hands seemed to blur as she moved rapidly, desperate for some salvation and a tangible reminder of her friend.

Within moments a cry shattered the still air and quickly lying the child down, she reached in her red stained hands and pulled out the other infant. It was dead, its features blue and red and the body cold. The creature thumped its back, rubbed it and lent warmth to it, and finally the tiny infant let out a mighty squeal.

After washing them by the blackened creek she laid them by their mother's side. In her haste to get them out she had cut one of them across its forehead. A trickle of blood flowed down its face and wiping it away the creature carefully looked at it.

It was a mirror image to it's twin and mother. A tuft of strawberry blonde hair, pale blue eyes and blood red lips. Sighing with relief she saw that it was ok, and sensed that time was nearing and soon she would be tracked down.

Thinking that all could be saved by sparing their lives she decided to separate the two, knowing they stood a chance apart. Gathering the other child in her arms she delicately cut the child's forehead just above the eyebrow. It now sported a similar cut only on it's opposite eyebrow.

Reaching over she took blood from the other woman's body and blood of their mother, she then mixed the blood into each of the children's fresh wounds.

"Now you shall both carry with you blood of your mother and blood of her beloved."

"Though parted by tradition and hatred, you at least will have something of each of them to take with you. It will be more than your mother received."

While she did this unbeknownst to her another red tear had fallen and it had became mixed into the other's lifeblood. Talking in a dialect native to their mother the creature stood up and making a decision moved through the bush carrying her bundle close to her.

Within no time she found the last surviving member of the children's bloodline, their grandfather. The man was in a fit state nearing his 40th year, but weakening strength and wounds had prevented him from leading the battle, as was his duty.

Now all his proud people were slain or so he thought. Ensuring the old man could not see her; the creature bade one child goodbye, and placed the child nearby.

Feeling taxed and in pain the creature reached the other side of the earth. She laid the lone child upon a wicker basket and left it outside a door.

Knocking, she then blended into her surroundings and watched as the door opened. Moving away she knew both would live, but would never see the other. Only in legend would they know of what happened.

It is said that the Goddess Sif herself was so impressed with the skill and spirit of these two warriors that she decreed them Einherjar. They were brave warriors who died in battle and as such would be granted a place in Valhalla.

It was to be destined that fate would change and the two souls parted would return to each other, and the children borne of the tragedy shall bear the mark made by one not of their kind.

Time went unabated as it does. Cities fell, and rose again. Empires came, conquered and vanished. Stars burnt out, and fell to earth. Planets evolved. Lives were made and lost, all in a never-ending cycle. And still the creature waited. A hundred plus generations passed before her. She loved and lost over again. Time meant nothing as she waited for the coming of evil, and a chance to redo history, redeem herself and reunite lost souls.

Chapter One

Holding onto the console, B'Elanna quickly ran the tests, her forehead ridges crinkling in concentration and her normally clean yellow and black Starfleet uniform now dirty and singed.

"Captain, do it now. We have only a window of 30 seconds, it's...."

"Correction, you have exactly 12.4 seconds" interrupted Seven.

B'Elanna ignored the damn Borg and heard Janeway order the engines to maximum warp, and to clear out as quickly as possible. Within moments the ship jumped warp and was gone from the spatial phenomenon that threatened to rip the tiny ship apart.

Glaring at the rudeness that was the Borg, B'Elanna stood in front of Seven, restraining her need to strangle the Borg, or at the least toss her out of the nearest available airlock.

"Never do that again Borg. This is MY Ship, and MY engine room, now stay out of MY business. I have had enough of you undermining my authority and making my life hell."

B'Elanna was on a roll so she continued, as Seven stood rigidly nearby. "Why don't you defrost your cold Borg self by jumping in the warp core. Kahless, I'd love to wipe the floor with you. One of these days it will be just you and me, no Janeway to bail you out. "

"Indeed LT. Perhaps you would care to try it."

"Yeah right. The moment the Captain gets a whiff of this she will have me in the brig or worse an airlock, and you safe in her bosom. Go Seven, the crisis is over. Go seek perfection elsewhere. Maybe we will call you next time we need you."

B'Elanna didn't care if anything she said hit its mark, she was too riled up. She was tired, sore and in need of a sonic shower, a long one at that. Plus she still blamed the Borg for Tom Paris's death.

He had died 4 weeks ago when the pilot's console blew up, and due to his death a more experienced pilot would not have ventured too close to the nebula. It had taken hours to come to a solution, but not before parts of the ship had been damaged. It would take days to repair everything, and the strain on her ship was not acceptable.

B'Elanna and Tom had become friends again after their break up some months earlier, and she had started to enjoy his company without any strings attached or any ill thoughts. Though a part of B'Elanna's mind knew Seven's modifications were not to blame, a part of her found the hatred too hard to dispel.

In a flash of movement B'Elanna found herself pressed against the wall, her face mere inches from a tall blonde ex Borg, a very upset Borg, and her uniform held roughly by the collar.

"I would love to 'wipe the floor' with you as you so eloquently put it, but you too are needed. 21:00 hours Lt, on Holodeck 2. You will have your chance. Don't be late, your honour demands you go. You issued the challenge, now you finish it."

The crew working that shift heard all, and though it wasn't too unusual to hear the two of them argue, it was shocking to most to see how unhinged Seven looked. Some even wondered who would win a fight out of the two of them. But all knew the very air was charged and something big had occurred.

Reining in her rising anger Seven let go of B'Elanna and rapidly left. Watching Seven abruptly walk off, B'Elanna wondered what the hell happened and how she was going to explain herself to Janeway.

Promptly forgetting it, chalking the incident to an overworked somewhat emotional Seven and recent events, she went about straightening what was her engine room. Though it was not its glorious self, what with wires pulled apart, conduits strewn across the place and consoles burnt out.

It was at 20:26 hours that she finally logged off duty and made her way to her quarters. Plopping onto her couch after a sonic shower B'Elanna let her tired body sink into the comfort the couch provided.

Closing her eyes she was startled to hear her commbadge come to life.

"Lt, it is almost 21:00 hours and we have a duel. Are you coming?"

"Look Borg, I told you I was not going to do this."

"No Lt, you said Janeway would put you in the brig. Need I remind you of the rest? Besides this need not concern the Captain, it is a private matter between two crew members resolving a conflict. And that is what I will state should this get out. Well, I guess I will state that you forfeited the challenge."

Sitting B'Elanna knew she should stay right there, and tell Seven she was sorry for the outburst earlier in the engine room. But she was too damn proud to, and before she knew what she was doing, she found herself standing in front of the woman on the Holodeck.

Seven was standing ramrod straight, her arms behind her back, her long blonde hair held in a ponytail by a checked ribbon. She was wearing white pants and a sleeveless white shirt that had a black belt tied around her trim athletic figure. Her feet were bare, the blue mat highlighting her pale feet.

"Clothing awaits you over there, when you are ready we shall begin." Seven gestured to a low bench, white clothing in a bundle the only thing on it.

Hearing the feisty Klingon walk away and mumble about eidetic memories, airlocks, and smug ex Borgs, Seven let a small smirk crest her features.

Seven had stood outside the door of the engine room after she had been kicked out. Seven still didn't know why she almost struck the Lt and goaded her; only that she had reached a point where she would stand for no more.

For her, the cold looks, open hostility and fear displayed by the crew for all too long was slowly eating away at her. She was regarded as a freak and the Lt's outburst was too much. Her pride too would not let her back down.

Now she had a fight to prepare for, as well as some quick thinking to ensure the Captain would not know of it. After making sure no one could enter while the program was running she set about stretching her lean muscles.

Standing at attention Seven listed the rules, which took no time as there really wasn't any rules.

B'Elanna was shocked to find that the safeties were offline, the human in her wanted to swallow her pride and ask for a truce. The warrior in her purred at the thought of a fight, a fight where blood would no doubt be spilt. What thrilled the warrior even more was knowing that the duel was with an equal.

Seven stood there, took a slow breath and moving a leg back she relaxed her stance. Outstretching her human arm, she rotated her hand so it faced palm up. With her hand out she flexed her fingers inwards, in a "come get me" gesture, her eyebrow raised defiantly.

Seeing the move B'Elanna snarled and moving her arms about in circular motions, she moved her head side to side and then carefully took a fighting stance. The two females circled each other, trying to size up their opponent and seeking to find a flaw. In a beautiful display of power and agility, the two combatants began their fight. It was a subtle exhibit of raw strength, patience and economy of movement, a true ballet of grace.

It was only moments later that Seven found that B'Elanna favored her right leg and Seven went to kick at her left leg to unbalance the Klingon.

The kick never connected as a flash blinded the two and Seven and B'Elanna felt their surroundings shift and morph. Upon awakening it took Seven 1.5 seconds and B'Elanna not much longer to know they were no longer on Voyager.

Chapter Two

17 April 1944.

Mud, blood and guts. The solider had seen enough to last his young lifetime. The solider was tired and had already vowed that should he ever live through this infernal war then he would settle down, help his sister and farm sheep.

Mud clung to him everywhere and no sooner would he wash, that inevitably he would wind back in the foxhole and have more mud in all too many places. He cursed the injustice of it all. He had seen his friends die and knew his little sister was buried on his family farm. Killed in a bombing raid, just another innocent casualty at the age of 7. His brother dead in first few days of war, fighting in a land not his.

Sparing a glace out of the foxhole he saw the enemy. Soon he would have to crawl out and run towards the muddy small outpost in a vain attempt to kill as many as possible and secure the insignificant area.

He had never heard of these people or their country beforehand, now he had come to hate them. He hated all that they stood for, and cursed their very existence. He couldn't bear to even speak their name. He was just a simple farmer eking out a living with his family by herding sheep and goats.

Reaching into his dirt encrusted pocket he pulled out a lock of light brown hair. Sweet Eloise, his precious baby sister. On leaving the farm to fight an enemy on foreign shores he had spun his sister around till they were dizzy. When he was about to leave, Eloise handed him a lock of her hair telling him to keep it by his heart.

"Where you go, I shall. Always will a piece of me be with you." How he wished he could kiss her or hold her that one last time.

Knowing the time was up and he would never live to see his homeland, feel his mother's soft embrace, hear his brother's laugh, nor hold his beloved little sister, he sent a prayer to his god to keep his now lone older sister safe. She was alone now, it was up to her to carry the family name, and continue the legacy.

Wiping the tears from his young brown eyes, he entwined the hair into his. Standing up and shouting "For all I lost and all that I love. May the chosen ones find their heart" the solider, along with his fellow comrades raced towards the outpost making their final stand.

Onwards the solider ran, jumping over fallen soldiers and unidentified corpses, the mud and blood flicking up onto his torn dirty clothing. The hail of bullets and grenades that followed never hit its mark. The sky had an orange glow to it, the smell of ash and too much death hang in the very air.

His knowledge that his sister was safe lent him courage to do the impossible. How many nights he had wept like a child, only wanting to feel another's touch. Now he would at least die a man, with honour and love in his heart.

Finally reaching the crumbling brick front, he charged into the building his Bayonet and rifle ready. Not more than two metres in front of him stood a young fair skinned boy no older than 16.

The boy upon seeing a young man breach the defences grabbed a knife from the half destroyed table and ran towards him.

In a flash of deja vu the two young boys saw an old battlefield unlike theirs. They saw two women fighting, each one drawing blood, and then in a flash the images were gone.

After the shots rang out and all was silent in the field the two bodies were found. The two soldiers had wounded each other mortally, both were unable to stop the forward momentum they had.

The fair-headed boy had part of a Bayonet imbedded in his chest, the other boy who had celebrated his 17th birthday two days ago, died from a knife wound to the heart. Both died crying out to their god and mothers. Just two more lives wiped out when hate had its hold on men.

Chapter Three

Waking up Seven took in her surroundings. She could see the prone form of the Lt sprawled in the corner of a small white room. The room was padded, and Seven estimated it was about 9 by 7 square meters. Standing up Seven went to wake up the Lt when an invisible forcefield knocked her into the padded wall.

The noise made from Seven impacting the wall seemed to register in the Lt's mind and in a flash B'Elanna was awake and standing, her fists clenched and body tensed to fight.

"Kahless Seven, where in the Gre'thor are we?" Seeing Seven's surprised face, B'Elanna knew Seven was not responsible for this. B'Elanna walked towards Seven trying to survey the room.

"B'Elanna wait...." Seven never got a chance to finish the sentence as B'Elanna went flying backwards into the padded wall.

"Son of a Bitch."

Standing up, B'Elanna asked Seven if she knew anything, and got a negative as a response. Pacing the small area, Seven stood close to the forcefield and examined it. It had no flaws, and Seven knew it could not be cracked.

"So Borg, any brilliant ideas?"

Seven watched the Lt through the field and in another irrational bout of rage went to lash out at her when she was thrown back again. B'Elanna couldn't help but smirk at Seven.

"Well this is almost worth just being here. Not often you see perfect Seven of Nine fall on her ass. And I got to see a mad Ex Borg too. Must be my lucky day. Seven why don't you just fall on that sword of yours." B'Elanna had trouble keeping the sarcasm contained, but a part of her was furious for being stuck in Kahless knows where.

Seven was about to retort, when they felt a surge of energy and two lifeforms entered. In shock B'Elanna let out a string of curses, Seven could only sit there with her mouth open.

In Seven's part of the white room stood an 8 year old Klingon Hybrid in a Klingon uniform. B'Elanna had an 8 year old Annika, for she knew it was a young Seven, wearing a pale blue sundress.

The Klingon girl just stood there, her eyes wide and trusting. Kneeling now Seven asked the child to state her destination. Getting no answer she asked if she was B'Elanna Torres. The child only giggled and after saying she was funny, wanted to know what the pretty jewellery was? Seven didn't know what to make of it, or what to do.

Reaching out her hand, the Klingon child touched Seven's eyebrow implant and smiled.

"So shiny and pretty. Beautiful are thee. Are you a hybrid too?"

"No, well, um, you see......... Yes, you could say that." B'Elanna held back the impulse to giggle at a perplexed six foot ex Borg trying to explain her origins to a child.

B'Elanna all out laughed when she saw an eyebrow raised Seven get hugged on impulse by the child Torres. All Seven could do was sit there, after all the child seemed to pose no threat.

Tugging her leg child Annika urged B'Elanna down to her level. "So you would be Seven.... Hmm, what is your real name again. Ah, Annika. That suits you, not that cold Borg designation. So what is this all meant to be?"

Instead of a verbal response B'Elanna found herself being engulfed by Annika in a warm embrace and in that moment B'Elanna felt a sense of calm envelop her.

She gave a light laugh as she heard the child whisper "warm and brave are we."

Receiving a kiss on the cheek B'Elanna stood up and looked down into the clear blue eyes and felt all her anger dissipate. B'Elanna found the child Annika to be enchanting with her golden hair, quick smile and quiet disposition. She glanced over and found Seven talking in Klingon to child B'Elanna.

It was disconcerting to B'Elanna to see her own image as a child giggle and smile in such a carefree manner. What was even more bewildering was seeing and hearing Seven talk perfect Klingon, and make a joke. B'Elanna could only stand there wondering if it could get any more bizarre.

The child Torres walked around, then looked about the room, spotting young Annika. Calling out to the shy girl, who seemed to find the tall Klingon fascinating, she asked if she wanted to play. When she got no response she walked over to the girl, took her hands which were firmly draped around B'Elanna's legs, and seated herself and Annika in the middle of the room.

Both commenced to play a game of Squares that had mysteriously appeared. Both of the children started to converse in a dialect neither of the two crew had heard. All this the two women took in stunned silence.

After a tense half hour of observing the two children and pacing the room, B'Elanna had enough.

B'Elanna spoke up. "Where are you from, and what do you want of us?"

In a shimmer of light the children glowed for a brief moment and then reappeared. It seemed as though the children were the same, yet not, both of them had eyes that pierced both of the two women's souls.

"It is not us that want anything. We ask of you only this." The child Annika had spoken, and in time the children moved as one and stood beside their opposite counterparts. In time, which both adults found all together too creepy, the children spoke.

"We have a riddle, one as old as time, yet the answers lay in the hearts of humanity."

"Tell us brave warriors this. What is the most powerful weapon known in all time? Yet it proceeds time itself. It has no known weaknesses, and cannot be stopped by conventional methods."

When both adults failed to respond the two children looked at each other and spoke again.

"Hold tight your chosen ones, it comes to destroy the pure hearts, and all that lies in its wake will find oblivion."

Seven audibly gasped and was shocked to realize she knew the other part to the story and taking a step forward and kneeling before the child Torres, spoke up.

"The chosen ones parted by time itself will come together. Should blood be spilled, one shall die by Fates hand and may the gods cry a thousand times over for their part. Nothing will stop the coming."

"Seven. How do you know that."

Seven glanced at the Lt, and then back to the Aliens.

"I do not recall Lt." Seven was clearly puzzled.

"You think it is Borg remnant?" B'Elanna was clearly confused and it was evident from her voice.

The two children/Aliens knew an error was made when Seven and B'Elanna had both spoken.

"The dissident has done well to thwart us. It is not them, nor can we make a move as yet. Valia will pay."

"What of this human's life?" Child Torres gestured to Seven and in silent telepathy came to a mutual agreement.

To no one in particular child Torres spoke. "The coming is nigh, and only blood can destroy or strengthen it."

In a blinding flash Torres and Seven suddenly found themselves back on Voyager in the Holodeck.

Chapter 4

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