Swordbearer by Vega

Part Nine: "Meeting "

October 19th, 2006 - evening

"What am I doing here?" was the first thing to pop into my head as I surveyed the room. It was a small meeting hall in the University, about the size of a seminar room. It was boring, grey, and held a scattering of maybe two dozen people in chairs and twice as many empty ones.

Miranda greeted me, very very cheerfully, at the door, and I shook her hand and said all the nice things you're supposed to say while glaring at people who were open-mouthed staring at my sword.

Good god, is this what a man with his dick hanging out feels like?

I slid into a plastic chair closest to the door and eyed the table in the far corner with the piles of deserts. It was a tough call. I could stay in my seat and be relatively un-harassed, or I could attempt to cross the room for the chocolate and probably be gabbed at the whole way there.

I as about to try going under the chairs when Miranda called the meeting into order and introduced me. There was a great roaring bout of applause and cautiously took the podium. The projector screen behind me was pulled down and images were flashed onto it - images of me.

"What the fuck?" I said, and jumped when my electronically enhanced voice repeated that to the assembled room. "Er, sorry. What's this?"

The picture of me standing in line at Tim Hortons switched to one of me accepting a Challenge last year (the girl was a total bitch and I don't feel the least bit guilty for taking her head), and me in the throes of the Quickening.

"Turn that off!" I hissed and it was quickly shut down.

I glared over the podium a the assembled faces.

"They're just pictures," Miranda began but I cut her off.

"Just pictures of me at my most secret and vulnerable and intimate moments. Give that reel of slides here." After a few seconds hesitation, Miranda did and I tossed it up into the air. The assembled crows gasped in awe as I unsheathed my sword and slashed at the reel enough times to make sure the slides hit the ground in little pieces.

There were groans as well as a spattering of applause.

"You're all sick," I said, which stopped all sound. You could have heard a pin drop. Miranda had tears standing in her eyes, but I didn't care. "I thought Watchers were bad enough, but you kids are just sick. Get fucking lives."

I turned to storm out and Miranda dashed to the door and headed me off. "Please!" she said, "Don't go! At least tell us... is anybody here a Pre-Immie?"

I stared at her with undisguised horror. "No one," I said, after scanning the crowed quickly. "Not one of you."

Her face fell, as I'm sure her heart did to. I sighed, shook my head, and re-mounted the steps up to the podium. "Listen, all of you," I said, my hands fisted at my sides. "Being Immortal is not some glorious power trip thing. You all long for Immortality, why? 'Cause you're scared of death? Lemmie tell you, to BE immortal, you have to die first - so what's the point? And yeah, dying HURTS. Hurts like a bitch. But the Quickening hurts more. Re-awakening hurts the most. What would you do with immortality, huh? Same boring stuff you do on a rainy afternoon? Immortality is not about daring jewel thefts and passionate lovers and knowing every book that was ever written. Mostly it's about finding somewhere you think you may be able to be even remotely happy for a decade or so and trying really hard not to want to take your own head when you realize that everyone and everything that ever meant ANYTHING to you are dead and gone and most times not even remembered!"

I paused, my breath coming in hitched sobs.

"If I had the choice, I wouldn't be what I am. I would rather have died when my body was tossed into the Atlantic - but I didn't. The only reason I haven't given up my head to someone worthy is because , like you, I'm fuckin' scared to die."

I heard the door snick shut and looked over through the wobbly shimmer of tears at Garret standing with his back to the entrance and his hand on the knob. His eyes were wide and his mouth hanging open.

"There's no such thing as love when you're Immortal," I plowed forward, addressing the crowd, but keeping my eyes on Garret. I'd kill Adam later for tipping him off. " 'Till Death Do Us Part' is romantic, but it's only for those who'll die. Mortals have it easy - their lives are fleeting and meaningful. But us - we just keep going, and going, we become nothing more than what we already are . Just more so. Immortals don't change, we don't grow, we don't realize how precious life and love can be because it's not threatened for us. Immortal relationships seldom last beyond a century because it gets boring. And if you're with a mortal, then it gets too painful to watch them wither away. There is nothing glorious, romantic, or endearing about suffering through eternal life."

I turned my eyes back to the gap-jawed crowd. "And that's all I have to say to you ninnies. I suggest you all go home and make love to the person who means something to you, 'cause you may get hit by a bus in the morning."

I stalked off the stage and past Garret, and out the door. "Abby wait," he began slowly, but I ignored him.

I did my best to stifle the tears that were streaming down my face, but it wasn't working. I wasn't looking where I was going and was concentrating on the headache that the crying was giving me that I didn't feel the warning buzz until I'd bashed right into the other Immortal.

"Jesus, I'm sorry," I said and backed up to look in his face. Instead I was grabbed and held against a warm, hard chest in an affectionate embrace.

"Shh, shhh," he said softly, and I recognized Adam's voice, "it's okay. What's got you in a knot?"

"I'm just... I'm so sick of all this bullshit." I sniffled. "They had pictures of me, Adam. In the middle of a Quickening!"

"That's not cool," he crooned. "I'll get them."

"I already destroyed them, but they... erg... people like that drive me bonkers!" I buried my face further in his sweater and he didn't seem to mind. "They don't understand that it's not all parties an champagnes and hurrahing the New Millennium over and over. It's HARD. And it HURTS."

Was hugged more tightly. "It's okay, Abby, we understand, don't we? I'm here."

I felt his chin nudge my forehead, and I looked up. His lips descended and I welcomed the kiss for the comfort and contact it provided. When I heard the panting breaths and slamming footsteps coming towards us quickly from down the hallway I broke away from Adam and turned...

... to see Garret come to a complete standstill.

"Garret," I said softly, but he shut his mouth and shook his eyes an took a step backwards.

"No, no," he said and forced a smile. "It's okay - I'm sorry to intrude. I... goodnight, Abby." He turned on his heel and walked back the way he came with tense, measured steps. When he had vanished around a corner, I felt Adam's hand on my shoulder squeeze slightly.

"Let's go get drunk, eh?" he said, "Nothing makes you feel better than beer."

"Alcohol is a depressant."

"But the company always makes up for that."

I accepted his proffered arm, but kept my eyes on my feet as I walked with him out to his car.

I had been waffling about what to do about the romantic advances from both Garret and Adam - I guess I had just made up my mind.