storypaint | The American God (American Gods gen)

Comm: none
Words: 625
Fandom: American Gods by Neil Gaiman
Title: The American God
Author: rhap_chan
Rating: G
Disclaimer: American Gods is the property of Neil Gaiman. This fanfic is a derivative of canon material that is not my property. I do not profit from these writings. The opinions and actions expressed in these stories are not necessarily the views and beliefs of the original author or me.

Excerpt: The man that Wednesday sought was sitting in the living room in the dark. He was picking absently at huge scabs, practically still holes, that marred his wrists; otherwise he seemed to be a perfectly normal man from one of the Arabic-speaking countries.

Shadow had stopped asking where they were going, no matter how strange or out-of-the-way they traveled. They spent a few days in a hotel near a rock aeryie as Wednesday argued with its inhabitants. The next place they went was, in fact, one fo the most normal places they'd been-- a small white house tucked back in-between Midwestern farmlands. It was quiet and the lawn ungroomed as though no one lived there.

"You might know this one. Personally, that is," Wednesday said, grinning humorlessly, as he got out of the car. He looked Shadow up and down, appraising him for something, though as usual, Shadow had no idea what.

"I shouldn't be long," the old man said, shutting the car door and heading up to the small white house. The front door was unlocked and he stepped in. Shadow settled down to wait.

The man that Wednesday sought was sitting in the living room in the dark. A televangelist was being enthusiastic on the television, but the man sitting in the armchair watching him gesture seemed unimpressed. He was picking absently at huge scabs, practically still holes, that marred his wrists; otherwise he seemed to be a perfectly normal man from one of the Arabic-speaking countries.

"I knew you were coming," the Arab-looking man said. Wednesday nodded. "I'm sure you know my answer," he continued, looking up from the television for a moment.

"Even if you retain most of your old power," Wednesday began carefully, "they will come for you eventually. You are an old one. You are one of us."

The Arab laughed dryly. He left his scabs a moment to heal as he pointed at the screen. "You think this still means what I originally intended? Oh, no. I am as displaced as you are in this country. They put more words in my mouth and fight more wars in my name than they have for any of the rest of you."

Wednesday said nothing. After a moment, the man sighed, dropping his hands.

"My Father has requested that I don't go out much. It's kind of hard to hide these," he said, lifting his hands.

"As I understand it, you have fulfilled your obligation to your Father," Wednesday replied. The man's eyes fell to the scabs in his hands again. One was trickling blood slowly, but the wounds seemed old.

"That I have," the Arab said. "Still, I will not fight with you. You know I cannot."

"Darwin stands on the other side," Wednesday said quietly. He had not wanted to play his trump card so soon. The other man's eyes flashed.

"Of course he does," he said dryly. "Of course he does. Always has. Even those who call my name do not always know me," he said, pointing to the televangelist and letting his bloody wrist drip slowly onto the stained floor. "It's in my book, not that he even understands that."

Again Wednesday did not speak. He'd been in a similar place once. This man had been most powerful in this country that hated gods for a long time. Withdrawal from that sort of worship wasn't pretty.

The Arab spent a long moment picking at his wrists, and then he said, "Obligation fulfilled or not, I am still the intercessor for too many souls. I am sorry."

"I am too," Wednesday said, emerging a moment later from the dark house into the sunlight. He blinked and was glad for a moment that he didn't have to do the work of a "personal god."

He got into the car and Shadow took them away to the next place. It was almost time to call Mr. World, but there were a few more to see yet. Then he would be ready.