Immortal Hope
Chapter One
Harry lay unconscious in a dark backstreet. He was bleeding from multiple cuts, and emerald-green eyes which had only days ago been blazing with a love for life stared blankly up at the dark sky above.
20 Minutes earlier
Harry staggered into the alley bleeding heavily from Vernon's latest. He'd managed to stem some of the flow, but he knew that it would be nowhere near enough for the long run. His only hope was that Richard would be there waiting, despite the fact that he was almost half an hour early.
Leaving a trail of dark red Harry forced himself to keep moving towards the far end of the alley. Three quarters of the way there Harry looked up.
Empty. It was empty.
Feeling light-headed Harry turned to leave. Despite the fact the fact that he was wearing glasses everything had lost solidity. The ground seemed to move beneath Harry's feet, forcing him to sit down as total darkness enveloped him.
Present time
Duncan (A/N known to Harry as Richard) walked into the alley, lost in the thought of how he was going to tell Harry that he was leaving in a few days time. After all, he had told the boy he was going to be around for the next month.
Several feet in, he realized that something was wrong. A few more steps brought Harry's crumpled form into sight.
Breaking into a run, Duncan squatted at Harry's side. The boy was lying in a pool of blood and Duncan could tell that by his pasty-white skin and glazed eyes that he'd past the point of no return some time ago.
The sight made his blood run hot, and he felt a deep disappointment that the person who had done this wasn't around.
As gently as possible Duncan slipped Harry's top up over his head, to check the full extent off the damage. At first glance he could count at least half a dozen deep slashes that looked as though they had been done with a butchers' knife. What skin wasn't bathed in red was at various stages of bruising, from pale yellow to dark purple.
Eyes wide in shock Duncan let rip the worst stream of curses that anyone in the town had heard in the last 50 or so years. And it wasn't all in English.
Like a spider moving down it's web, Duncan's hand moved down his side, and slipped free his knife. Even if he hadn't been able to protect the boy at least he could end his pain. Stealing himself he raised the knife above Harry's heart and brought it down, hard and fast.
Blood ran out of Harry's mouth, mixing with the already drying pool on the ground. A tremor ran through his body and he died.
Duncan rose and spun on his heel. He would get Methos to help put the boy to rest.
A deep, low moan froze Duncan in his tracks. With a slight idea of what he would see Duncan glanced over his shoulder. Harry's body was shaking and convulsing in what was a hell of a lot more than a random firing of the nerves.
Once more, though no where as spectacularly as last time Duncan cursed, this time at himself for not picking up on the minor detail that Harry had been a pre-immortal. As he stood there some of the more minor cuts began to heal over.
After a prolonged debate with himself over the best course of action Duncan picked Harry up, wincing at how light he was, and started back to Methos with the kid carefully in his arms, hoping beyond hope that the older Immortal wouldn't be to pissed off with Duncan for not realizing what the boy was.
