© Sin 1999
DISCLAIMER: I have no monetary or any other claim on the characters contained herein, they belong to a number of other people, including DPP - the guys just like me so they tend to hang around and tell me things.
WARNING: Okay this story is pretty tame - a bit of lusting and the ubiquitous strange spelling all make an appearance. Nothing more than what you'd see on tv, so it's only rated PG-13. The lusting is of a M/M variety so if this disturbs you (yeah right! =) please exercise your back key.
FEEDBACK: Yes please! I'd especially love to hear what you think of this story and the ideas behind it - i.e. whether you want to see more of it.
NOTES:
This is a warped version of the HL universe, so expect some surprises - I'll explain more later.
Story 1 in the proposed Phases series.
It can be found at http://www.geocities.com/~rynx/hl/s_fic.html
You know, it really is kind of strange the way things turn out. The way life can send you for a spin simply because you took a left on Such-and-Such Street instead of a right, bought one paper instead of another, or simply ran into a person on the street, in a bar, in the supermarket, that you otherwise would never have met. It never ceases to amaze me how those simple little choices we make in our lives can have such irrevocable consequences.
For me it was the simple choice of whether to stay and investigate or whether to go when I felt that first prickling sensation of another Immortal's quickening. Normally I would've taken off and hidden myself away in one of my various little haunts - my favourite bar, the University library or, if it was getting late, my apartment. Back to a place that's less of a home and more of a hideyhole, a place of sanctuary that can easily be abandoned if it comes to that. I travel light, but then I don't really need more than my sword, some clean clothes and my keys. Gotta love those keys - they open up a number of storage places and safe deposit boxes. If there's one thing I've learned in all my years it's travel light, always have escape money and get the hell out of Dodge when the winds of change come swirling.
When you get to my age, any little thing that helps you avoid the rest of your race is a rare gift - and you use it. Especially when the aforementioned others have a tendency to want to separate your head from your shoulders with almost no time for pleasantries, let alone conversation. To explain what I mean - I guess you could say I have an advanced warning system. Gods, I love the 20th century. The slang and terminology is such a hoot! But as I was saying, I have a bit of an advantage over other Immortals, my sensing range is a bit wider than is normal. It really helps, I can tell you. Most of the time I can get out of range before they realise I'm even there.
Why the hell I didn't do it this time is all academic now.
If you point blank asked me why, I guess my answer would be that I was bored. Silly, isn't it? Simply boredom came close to ending my rather long lifeline. I have survival skills that're unmatched, but every once in a while even the best of us make mistakes. I guess it was time for me to. Luckily it ended up working out a lot better than I had any right to expect.
There I was, walking along the street towards the University - normally I would've driven, but I felt the need to stretch my legs. Plus, the walk helped clear my dazed brain. Trying to get your dissertation finished with only two weeks until the deadline, as well as working, isn't really conducive to getting a lot of sleep. So, as a result, there I was trying to stimulate the old brain with some fresh air and the patchy bits of sunlight that filtered through the clouds.
If you were an Immortal trying to spot me in the eddying tides of students you would've had a hard time picking me out. About the only thing that could've given you some indication was the long coat, but others were also wearing one, so then again maybe not. I trudged along in my most comfortable clothes - faded jeans, scuffed boots, rather dilapidated sweater that had ink-stains on the sleeve where my pen decided to leak on it. With my worn leather backpack over one shoulder, I looked no different than any other student in the procession towards the University.
As I remember it, my plans for the day included doing some work at the library so that I could double check some of the facts I'd pulled off the Internet. I wasn't sure if I was going to use them, but it never hurts to keep track of what is happening in your area of expertise - it also helps stop you making stupid mistakes. Yes, I make stupid mistakes like the rest of humanity. Just because I'm almost a living fossil doesn't mean I'm without the human stupidity gene that causes us all to stuff up occasionally.
So there I am, running on autopilot, mentally singing along to the song coming through my headphones. Have I mentioned how much I love the 20th century? Some of mankind's greatest achievements have happened during this time period - and the Walkman definitely ranks up there with the polio vaccine, walking on the Moon and take-away food. Anyway, I'm wandering along minding my own business as I usually do, when the first rush of presence works it's way up my spine, lifting the hairs on the back of my neck.
My survival skills are honed to such a degree that I react on the basic level of fight or flight when I get that tingling flood of sensation. All the autonomic responses are there - increased heartrate and breathing as adrenaline starts working its way through my system, the tightening of muscles in preparation, and senses heightened to detect the danger. You've got no idea how hard it is to try and disguise all those responses when you're trying to hide in plain sight. It's instinctive to search out your opponent, like a deer getting the first scent of a predator, you want to fling your head up and scan for danger, so just trying to act nonchalant about it is incredibly difficult.
Trying to investigate as unobtrusively as possible, I saw two men disappear around a corner further along down the street. They didn't look like they were going to face off, more like they were working together to achieve some specific end. I guess that's what initially caught my attention - it's not a natural thing for Immortals to work together. At least, it isn't in my experience. But then my life hasn't been what you'd call a bed of roses. Like I said before, I was bored, so this hint of intrigue, of the unusual caught my interest. And let me tell you, it normally takes a lot to get me curious.
So against my better judgment - hell, at that point you could've just called me 'Idiot Jed' - I made a detour and followed them. I guess that human stupidity gene kicked in again. Ghosting along behind them, I watched them walk into an alley halfway down the street. Unable to resist the temptation I trailed after them.
This is where the story takes on a surreal quality. There I am, doing my best 'you can't see me, even though you can see me' impersonation so as not to attract the other two's attention. The hum of their presence was faint, indicating that they're just on the edge of my range when I turned the corner. For the next little bit, things are a bit confused.
What I do remember are the sensations of impact - of someone running into me, and then the feeling of my head thudding as I made contact with the cement. Not one of my most favourite feelings, I can tell you. The visual impressions are pretty blurred, though I do have this vague image of beautiful clear eyes and creamy skin. It's strange what impressions your brain decides to hold onto isn't it.
The next clear thought I had was the realisation that I'd miscalculated. I really hate that, it normally means I'd better get the hell out of there or I'll be suffering quite a lot of pain. I hate pain. But at the time, lying there on the ground waiting for my brain to finally settle once again into its proper positioning, I didn't care - I was mesmerised by the vision of masculine beauty standing over me. As to what the miscalculation was, only one of the two men I'd seen was an Immortal, because the sensation coming from the man above me was not a full-blown hum, it was more a vibrating shimmer - a pre-Immortal.
I only had seconds to enjoy the view. Just as the waking dream started to speak, there was a soft 'THWUT' noise and the lean body arched in pain and fell towards me. Instincts are a wonderful thing, you know. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. I managed to catch him as he fell, the shock in his eyes before they fluttered closed pulled at my heart, my rusty need to protect rising to the fore. Without even thinking about it, I pulled out the short blade that goes with me everywhere and threw it. It's not really balanced well enough to make a good throwing dagger, but hey, you make do with what you've got at your disposal and that's what I had at the time. Besides, I've killed people with worse weapons, so I guess it's all relative.
I was glad to see that my skills weren't quite as rusty I as thought. Just like riding a bike I guess, once learned, you never really forget it. The beauty's attacker went down with my blade firmly embedded in his chest. Now that that threat was passed, I turned my attention back to the man lolling bonelessly across my lap. His breath was coming in ragged little gasps, barely enough to inflate his lungs as he desperately fought to hold onto the life that he held so precious. Feeling the slow flow of blood that was pooling over my legs and onto the ground beneath us, I knew that it was a hopeless fight - my pre-Immortal was just about to suffer his First Death.
Our First Death is generally violent - we die in battle, whether as the victor or the conquered, we die by beatings, torture, rape, murder and just plain bad luck. My theory is that the violence of our First Death's a way of introducing us to our new life. Nothing begets violence like violence, and once you become an Immortal, violence and death are your closest friends.
So there I am, a dying pre-Immortal almost cradled in my lap, my knife sticking out of another mortal's chest and an unknown Immortal somewhere close who was going to be pretty pissed that his friend was dying. You'd think I would've made that old adage, discretion is the better part of valor, fact and gotten the hell out of there. But I couldn't make myself leave, I was unable to relinquish the weight in my arms. There's nothing worse than dying alone, so I stayed and did what little I could to make this pre-Immortal's First Death more ... comfortable isn't the word I would normally use, but then I don't know what else fits.
Listening to his faint breaths, I brushed my fingers over his cheek with a gentle touch, letting him know wordlessly that he wasn't alone. The delicate lids fluttered open again, his darkening eyes seemed slightly dazed before he finally focused on my face.
"You're not alone, I'm here. Let go, let the pain end."
Blinking in confusion he shakily raised a hand, wincing with the pain, and touched one long finger to my lips. "... angel ..?" The word was no more than a breath of air, causing me to smile as I finally comprehended his meaning. I smiled ruefully at the comment. It's not often that I get mistaken for a messenger of the one God - unless you mean the Angel of Death. His lips twitched into a small corresponding smile, and for a moment it was like a shot of Quickening arced between us. Blue eyes and hazel locking as souls connected on a higher plane. Then his body spasmed, arching with his last gasp for air as the pain finally flowed free from him, leaving him limp and lifeless in my arms.
Even though I knew I had to get out of there, needed to get him out of there, I couldn't move. I just wanted to stay there forever with him in my arms. It felt so right. It's such a rare feeling. I've felt it for a sword, a horse, but I'd never felt it for a person before. So I sat there, my jeans clammy with his blood and waited patiently for him to revive.
I've never told him about what I was thinking in those moments, I don't want scare him. For all the years I've lived, all the cultures I've seen, the people I've met, the lessons I've learned - there's still a part of me that's incredibly primal. It comes from living in a time where survival of the fittest was more than just a theory. In those quiet moments, with the patchy sunlight dappling the ground around us, I decided that now I had him I was never going to let him go and nothing and nobody was going to take him away from me. Age has its benefits, and when I make up my mind about something, really make up my mind, I can be a force of Nature.
"Oh, my God!" The rich brogue snapped me out of my reverie. I jerked my head up and looked at the man coming towards me, katana in hand. << So,this is the other Immortal. >> I remember thinking. << Impressive. >> To this day I don't know if it was the whole Immortal deal or whether it was some primal territorial claim, but something about him raised my hackles. "Adam!" He dropped to his knees in front of me and reached out to touch the other's cool hand. It was almost as if he didn't even register that I was there.
"He's dead." Stating the obvious I know, but I never said I was beyond the obvious.
Those two words brought the brown eyes to bear on me. He finally seemed to focus on me and not on the dead body of his friend in my arms. I could almost see that same feralness that had affected me seconds previously rise in his eyes.
"Adam? That's his name?" I asked, looking down at the beautiful lax face, trying to ease some of the tension. I brushed a finger down the cool cheek again. "Hello, Adam."
"Who the hell are you?"
It's hard not to smile when other Immortals take in the youthful appearance that's at once my curse and my blessing. Immortals know that physical appearance is in no way indicative of age and experience, but there's just something in the Immortal psyche that totally rejects the idea that I'm anything more than a youngster in our bizarre world. I think it's the slight baby face and auburn curls. I'm always going to look in my late teens, early twenties, so why not take advantage of it. It's good camouflage, and only the most observant tend to see past the illusion. I think it's my eyes that give me away, they've just seen too damn much and it's impossible to hide.
"Richie Ryan." I stuck my hand out, going for the impetuous young Immortal guise. "I felt you guys and thought I'd come take a look."
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NOTES: I've had this kicking around in my brain for a bit since I read the challenge to write a story where Richie is older than Methos. So this is my little twist on what I thought might have happened if that was the truth. So now Richie is the fabled Oldest Immortal, while Adam Pierson is the new Immortal - oh the possibilities! =)
Sorry about the 'such a hoot' comment - I think I channeled Turnbull for a second there! -rofl-
Oh and the 'Idiot Jed' reference comes from BtVS, courtesy of Xander in the episode Surprise.
