-two-

"Herbert Alfred is a perfectly respectable name, and I don't see a thing wrong with it!" A young Mary said with a huff. Bert, who was no more than eighteen at the time, frowned at her.

"It's also perfectly ridiculous. I don't understand why you can't jus' call me Bert like ev'ryone else!" He said angrily. Mary's face turned red and she crossed her arms over her chest and clicked her small heels impatiently on the sidewalk.

"Herbert. You know that I refuse to be lumped in as normal. 'Like everyone else'. I think it is unacceptable, and there is nothing wrong with my wanting to be extraordinary. Nor is there anything wrong with the name Herbert! It is perfect and different." Mary paused for a moment, her cheeks reddening.

"A bit like you, I dare say." She added, watching as the color completely dropped from Bert's face. Soon after though he grinned and took her hand, squeezing it tightly in his as they began walking again.

"You think I'm perfect?" he asked, a bit quietly, as if it were some sort of secret. Mary looked over at him and sighed.

"We can't. You know I leave tomorrow, for training…I'll be gone three years, Herbert…We can't talk about this right now." She said sternly, sliding her hand from his and placing them in her coat pockets to prevent further contact.

Bert sighed and accepted the silence. That was why they were here after all. For eighteen years, since they were in their prams, they came to this park every other Tuesday as playmates. As they got older, the tradition stuck, and now, every second Tuesday of the month, the two would meet at the park and walk. They would catch up on things they forgot to mention in passing, or laugh about nonsensical things Bert would dream up.

Each spring day that passed brought the heat of summer, and with it, the rain. This day however, the last Mary and Bert would spend with each other for three years, was perfect. There was a light wind that just made the grasses sway to a silent rhythm. The sun shone brightly in a crystal clear blue sky, small puffy clouds dotting through the blue here and there. A small family made use of the carousel to their right, and ahead of them, a variety of birds speckled the fountain, chirping to each other. It was like a scene from a painting. It was however, deceitful. Where the day itself was gorgeous, a flawless day where nothing could possibly go wrong, the events of the day were less than welcome. By nightfall, Mary would be gone, and Bert would be without his best friend for three years. And a lot could happen in three years. People can change completely in three years.

Knowing he might run the chance of losing her forever, Bert dropped the subject of his feelings for her for the time being. He instead opted to joke around like usual, anything to get her to smile, to laugh, and anything to break their train of thoughts from what was coming. However, the end of the park was nearing, and they could now see the large iron gates that heralded the exit. They slowed upon reaching them, and passed under them even slower. As if on cue, everything they had wanted to say in the silence came tumbling out, words jumbling together, nothing either of them said resembling something coherent. Mary pressed her lips into a thin line, which was more habit than attitude, and spread her hands before her in a sweeping motion, signifying that he should talk first. Bert sighed and closed his mouth, unsure of where to start now that he had the opportunity.

"You're goin' to be Immortal." He spat out, the words falling like weights on them both. Mary felt a lump grown in her throat, and she simply suppressed it and nodded.

"It's jus'…We're eighteen now…an' when you'll be gettin' back, we'll be twenty-one…" he began, trying to find his words. Mary nodded in agreement.

"That is generally how the process of aging works, I've been told." She said, hoping Bert would catch on to her trying to lighten the mood. However, he didn't want the mood to lighten. It was very rare that they had a serious conversation anymore, but he felt that this should be one of them.

"You'll be twenty-one, an' you're goin' to still be twenty-one when I'm thirty, an' forty, an' dead." He said as a horrible, sickly scowl grew on his face. They had continued walking as they spoke, or tried to at least, and the park was not far behind them, they were now crossing a fairly empty intersection. At this time of day, all of the adults were at work, and the carriage traffic was all but nonexistent. A very strange expression fell upon Mary's face as soon as the words came out of Bert's mouth. Like the knowledge was with her, but never had really hit her until Bert mentioned it. She stopped and turned to face him, staring him straight in the eyes. Bert looked at her strangely, but did not say anything as Mary opened her mouth to speak.

"Herbert. Dear dear…Bert.-" She began trying out his preferred name for a change. Her stomach tied in knots and she fought back a flush that threatened to invade her cheeks at the thought of what she was about to do. Slowly, she removed her hands from her pockets and took Bert's in them. She pulled his hands towards her and guided them to her waist. Steeling herself against the thought that maybe this was the wrong thing to do, she then moved to wrap her arms around his neck, and she kissed him. She was a bit tentative at first, but at Bert's response of pulling her closer and moving a hand up to rest on the small of her back, she loosened up, forgetting that this was everything she had told herself she would not do. The kiss intensified as Mary knocked Bert's hat off of his head and wound her fingers into his hair. Lips parted and tongues touched, the two of them feeling as if they were engulfed in fire. In an instant though, Mary broke the kiss with great intention and stared with a new sort of expression at Bert. She took his hand and began pulling him behind her as they marched through the street.

"Come along, we have a lot of work to do and little time before I stop being selfish."


Mary led them up the stairs of her house and straight into her mother's room, where she pushed Bert onto the bed and turned around to begin rifling through her mother's drawers. Unable to find what she was looking for, she stormed over to the closet and dove into it, digging through trunks until she eventually emerged with a large leather bound book. Glancing at Bert, who was staring at her with a very confused look, she signaled for him to follow her. They stumbled down the steps and Mary led him into the kitchen, which was far brighter than the previous rooms, and had a large clean table in its center. Mary thudded the book down and turned to the hutch behind her, where she withdrew three large candles and a book of matches. Bert took a seat across from Mary as she lit the candles and sat down, focused on finding the correct page. Sighing in relief when she found it, she looked up and at Bert.

"I can't lose you." She admitted.

"You're my only friend. And I can't watch you die." She explained, turning the open book to face Bert. Bert's eyes fell to the page and began to scan line after line, his lips moving with the words he read. He looked up halfway down the page and sighed.

"This is selfish…" he said, pushing the book back to her. Mary raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips.

"It is the only selfish thing I have ever committed. I won't do it unless you agree to it. This is up to you more than it is me. The spell won't take effect until we are twenty-five in any case, so we will both age the same, and we will both cease the same. Every 100 years, the spell must be re-cast; otherwise it breaks, but think of all the time we'll have. Even though I'll spend years away at a time, think of the possibilities." She said, pushing the book back to him. He sighed and took it again, reading the rest of the page. Once finished, he pushed the book back towards her and sat in silence for a few minutes, his Adam's apple pulsing erratically. After what seemed like hours, he looked up. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his forehead and his hands were shaking nervously. He balled them and placed them on his lap before nodding.

"Do it."


Bert and Mary sat across from each other, each of them silent save for the clink of their tea cups as they set them down or picked them up. Outside thick grey clouds threatened snow, and the wind whipped the mostly bare trees, taking with it whatever browned leaves were left from the autumn. Mary cleared her throat and set her cup down on the Formica table-top in Bert's house. Her charges were at school until three, and Mary had nothing really to do until then, other than to offer an explanation. Preparing her words carefully, she slowly opened her mouth to begin, but the words that came out we're not what she had planned.

"I'm so sorry." She sighed, her eyebrows knitted together tightly and bottom lip quivering momentarily.

Bert smiled and shook his head, taking a sip from his cup before beginning.

"S' not your fault, Mary. 'Ow were we S'posed to know when it wos you'd be comin' back to London?" he said, with no remorse or animosity.

"I tried so hard, to sway where the winds would take me. But each time, it seemed to go in exactly the opposite. Eventually, I gave in and left it to its own devices. But I had always hoped it would bring me back here." She rambled, fitting a great deal of words into a small breath. Bert reached across the table and took her hands in his, which were still for the moment.

"Mary, look at me. Do I look upset by any 'o this?" He asked, shaking his head.

"I've lived lifetimes more than any normal person should ev'r be able to. I've 'ad my run, an' It was a bloody good one…but it's only fair that my time comes." He said softly, smiling and running small circles along the backs of her gloved hands. She looked down at their hands, her petite ones, unflawed and un-aged underneath leather gloves, and his rough, callused and warn. Work hands, but gentle enough to soothe with just a touch.

"But it isn't like you will simply age now, Bert. It isn't that way in the least." She sighed, picking her hands from him and rubbing her temples with her index fingers.

"I read the fine print jus' as well as you did, Mary. I know 'ow this will work. My body will age normally, but me insides, 'specially me brain, will work over-time to play catch up until the anniversary 'o the day the spell was cast. Then its lights out." He explained, to prove he had not forgotten. He laughed then, and scratched the side of his face.

"The 'ospitals will think I'm the youngest man to ev'r be diagnosed with Alzheimer's." he said, chuckling at the thought.

"That is not at all funny, Herbert. Don't you dare say something like that!" She chided, frowning and shaking her head. Bert smiled and laughed at her reaction.

"Oh, it is good to 'ave you back tho'. We'll jus' 'ave to take advantage 'o the time we 'ave an' make the most 'o it." He decided for the both of them. Mary nodded in agreement and carefully sipped her tea, making sure to leave no trace of lipstick on the glass. Changing the subject abruptly, she stood up to remove her used dishes from the counter and set them in the sink.

"So what is it you have been doing all of these years then? I know you can't have kept your original jobs." She stated, turning around to speak with him properly.

"Nah. Jobs for a sweep went out the window a good fifty years ago. Took up a 'eap 'o jobs since then. Right now its architecture. I still draw, but obviously, I can't do much in the wint'r…" He said, looking out the window at the snow falling in thick flakes outside.

"I traveled a lot, tho'." He continued, turning back to face Mary with a smile. Confused, Mary slid back over to the table and sat down.

"How on earth did you travel? And where to?" She asked, genuinely interested in his response.

"You'll do well to remember that travel methods 'ave changed since 1910, dear. There are plenty 'o ways to travel." He grinned at her and she merely shook her head.

"We could travel you kno'. You an' me…" He offered, picking tea something off of the table.

"You know I can't leave until the children no longer need me." She said sadly, sympathizing with his need to spend time together.

"Then we'll make them not need you soon'r. Simple! Be th' best nanny ev'r an' teach 'em their lessons quickly." He offered, only half joking. Mary smiled and shook her head.

"I'm not so sure that would work. But you and I will still have our time together, my dear old friend. Don't you forget that." Mary reassured him, smiling at Bert warmly. He nodded and returned the smile.

"Righ' you are, Miss Mary. Five months 'o golden opportunity." he said with a smile.

"Lets not put a time frame on it, old friend. We shall get nothing accomplished counting down the days." She said, sounding very much like a nanny.

Looking down at her wristwatch, She noticed it was time to go and collect the children.

"Would you care to accompany me?" She asked, standing up and looking at him expectantly. He nodded and stood. And just like old times, as if they never had missed a step, he offered her his arm. She looped hers through his and they made their way out of the house, Mary telling him all about this new set of children, and how she thought Bert would find them positively agreeable.

Outside, the snow fell consistently, providing more and more layers to accumulate. Bert hoped that with this sign, Winter would be a long one.


Theres chapter two! Since I know EXACTLY what I'm doing with this, and I know its going to be short, I'm really just hammering it out and getting the chapters up quickly. Remember to let me know what you think!