Disclaimer: MINE, MINE, MINE! They're all mine, I tell you! Mine!
Why don't you believe me?
Oh...because they're not. sigh
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A/N: Sorry that it took me so long to get this installment out, I hadn't planned on taking this long. What can I say? Life…..happens, whether you want it to or not. I didn't get the feedback that I was hoping for when I left you guys hanging. So….I must be one of five things…..
A: I didn't make his death clear enough
B: No one believes that I, of all people, would kill Warrick
C: You believe all that Immortality Sh-stuff.
D: Those that were upset, were too upset to leave a review.
Or
E: No one is reading this because it sucks!
Thanks to my new reviews. Every little bit of encouragement keeps me motivated to continue writing this. Let's go for 8 this round? Please R&R.
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"Warrick!" Nick screamed. His entire being went limp as the fight went out of him. His hands dropped to his sides as he spun to fall to his knees at Warrick's side. "No! No, no, no, no no!" Cradling Warrick's lifeless head in his lap, he fought back tears of despair. Turning hate-filled eyes to the man standing above them, he hissed. "You Bastard! I'll kill you for this!"
Squatting, Duncan did not seem too perturbed over the threat. "You promised that you wouldn't freak out on me." He accused quietly as he reached for the handle of the knife. Nick lunged at him again. Duncan caught his hands and held the attacking man off him. He made no other move to fight Nick.
"Don't! Don't you touch him!" Nick swatted his hand away and crawled back over to Warrick's side.
"I need to. Just let me remove the knife." With a quick fluid motion, Duncan yanked the knife out of Warrick's chest. The knife pulled out with a sickening slurping sound. Nick winced at the sound, tears clouding his vision. He could not believe that his best friend was dead.
"Warrick?" Greg whispered, sounding shocked. Nick didn't seem to hear the younger man, nor did he notice the twitching of the inert man's hand, as Greg did. A moment later, Warrick gasped loudly and jerked to an upright position. His breath was raspy as he looked around at his friends with wide eyes.
"What the Hell did you do that for?" He snarled at Duncan as his two friends stared at him in utter surprise. "That hurt like a son of a gun!"
"Your friends needed more proof. They didn't believe the little slice the hand trick you did." Duncan rocked back on his heels and stood up in a graceful action that would make a ballet dancer envious. He held out his hand to Warrick. Glaring at him, Warrick took the hand, allowing him to pull him to his feet. Nick remained on the floor where he had just been holding his friend's lifeless body. He was pale with shock as he now watched the completely alive friend argue with his murderer.
"This was my favorite shirt!" Warrick put his fingers through the bloody opening in his shirt that had not been there a moment before. "Damn it! It's ruined!"
"Warrick?" Greg stood up and touched his friend's chest where the knife had just been. The blood was still there, wet and sticky, but there wasn't as much as a flaw in the skin.
"Believe us now?" Duncan questioned sardonically.
Nick forced his trembling legs to move as he pushed himself up off the floor. He had to get away from these people. He moved to the sliding glass door and slid outside to the balcony. Taking deep breaths to control the raging emotions he looked out on the city. A moment later, he heard someone join him. "Nicky?" Warrick spoke out questioningly, his voice soft and gentle. "You okay?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Nick snapped, feeling an unexplainable rage at the man that he had been mourning a moment before. "You're the one that just had a knife protruding from your chest!"
"I'm sorry about that. Duncan shouldn't have done that." Warrick sighed, leaning against the railing; he too looked out at the city. "He thought he was doing the right thing. He wanted you guys to believe us."
"Well, I believe. I'm confused and scared, but I believe." Nick grunted, refusing to look at his friend who a moment ago, had been dead. "That's not something I would ever want to experience again."
"You get used to it." Warrick shrugged. "The worst part is being alone. You go through this life making friends, trying to do some good, try to make a difference in all this, and then you have to watch all your friends grow old and die. We'll watch Grissom and Cath grow old and die, but we will still be going on. Lyndsey will grow up, have kids and grow old. We'll outlive her and her children. I never would have wished this on you, but I admit that I'm glad you'll be around."
"I don't want that." Nick shook his head. "I don't want this. I just want to live a normal life."
"It's not something you can choose. It's there. It is happening whether we want it to or not. You will become immortal. You will be part of the Game. I've hidden from it…..for twelve years now, but it's still there, waiting for me, looking for me."
"You said that you die if your head comes off?" Nick turned to study his friend's profile. "Right?"
"Yeah." Warrick turned to face him, green eyes squinting as he tried to figure out what was going through his friend's head.
"Then, when I die, before I come back…..take my head." Nick announced. "Then I don't have to play the game."
"I could never do that Nicky." Warrick shook his head in disbelief and shock. "I can't kill you."
"I'll already be dead, it won't be killing me. You'll just be putting me out of my misery. Think about it Warrick! Am I really the type of person that would be good at this? Do I really have the stomach for it?"
"You can be." Warrick shrugged. "I didn't want to be a part of this either. I still don't, that is why I hide. That's why I avoid the Game as much as I can. But, you can do good in this world. You can make a difference. That's why I do what I do. I solve crimes, I put the evil away."
"Doesn't it get tiring?" Nick questioned with another heavy sigh. "I'm already tired and I'm only making it through this life. I can't imagine going through life after life."
"I didn't want this either. I wasn't a warrior of any kind when this happened to me. I was weak and scared. When Mac found me……after my original death…..I was paranoid….nearly crazy. I wasn't really human anymore."
"You said you were murdered. Can you tell me about it?" Nick questioned softly.
"I was a slave, all my life. I'd accepted that. Being hated by both sides, kind of kills all real feeling. I was an outsider, but I had a warm bed and a roof over my head, so I was okay. Grams made sure of that. Then the war came and we were freed. I didn't have that roof or the bed anymore, but I had Grams……and I had Rose."
"Rose?"
"My wife. She was the one person besides Grams that accepted me and didn't judge me for the color or shade of my skin. She was sweet and good. Lord, she was beautiful." Warrick smiled sweetly at the memory. Nick could tell that he was seeing Rose before him, in his mind.
"We were free, but the white men still owned us. They owned the land we worked. In their minds, they still owned us." Warrick grew angry as the memory of Rose faded away. "I had a little piece of land that I was struggling to work. We ended up owing more than I made, but we were free."
"What happened Warrick?" Nick suddenly realized that he probably did not want to know. This was something that had made Warrick the man he was today. This was going to explain the lost, pained look that sometimes came to Warrick's eyes.
"A group of white men came one night. Drug Rosie and me out of our bed. I fought them, but I was no match for them. They held me down as they took turns raping my wife. My sweet Rosie……when the last one was finished, he bashed her head in with a stone, then they shot me. They left me for dead. I lay there, bleeding out, and could do nothing but stare at her body."
"But you didn't die?" Nick whispered with a shiver.
"Oh, I did, but I just didn't stay dead. I woke up, Rosie was still dead. I was completely healed, not a mark on me. I don't know how long I held her, crying. Eventually, I got up and cleaned her up. I buried her…..my sweet Rosie…….and then, I ran."
"I spent the next year, living in the woods, hiding from everyone. I was even afraid to approach Grams. I was afraid that she would see me as the ogre that I was. I didn't want to have to deal with her disgust of me. I began taking my revenge on any white man that dared to come across me. Then, I had a strange feeling that scared the shit out of me. A man approached and I could feel him."
"Duncan." Nick surmised.
"Yeah." Warrick nodded, wanting Nick to see how good Mac really was. He could tell that Nick did not fully trust Mac, especially after this last stunt, Warrick thought as he fingered the torn material of what had been his favorite shirt. Warrick wanted Nick to like Mac. It would be a good thing if Nick had another, older and wiser Immortal to go to if something should happen to him. "Mac had been passing through and had heard the talk of the monster that couldn't die. He understood what I was and came in search of me. It didn't take much for him to find and corner me. He had lived with a tribe of Indians for many years, he can track anything and I didn't make it all that difficult for him. Half-crazed that I was, it took more effort to get me to listen to him. He promised to help me and I eventually believed him. It was nice to hear that I wasn't alone, that there were others like me out there. He was heading to San Francisco, and took me with him to train."
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They were gathering, that was all there was to it. He had waited too long. He should have attacked sooner instead of all this waiting and watching. Warrick Brown had been weak and unprotected. His friends had been dumb and untaught. Untaught, they would be easy targets. He needed to finish them off while they were unprepared, before their training began. He needed to attack before they had the knowledge and strength to protect themselves.
He understood who this newcomer was now. He was the teacher, the master. Warrick was getting prepared to start training the two mortals. His time had run out. He had to finish them off while they were still mortals. He had to do it now! Warrick Brown may have been out of the Game for years, but this newcomer had not. He needed to think, his plan had to change. He couldn't kill Warrick first now, the newcomer would protect and train the others. He had to get to them first, then worry about Warrick and the teacher before they knew what was going on.
His eyes lit on one of the mortals as he came out on the balcony. His eyes glittered brightly as he took in the state of emotional distress the man emitted. A scowl came upon his craggily face as his foe joined the man. Lifting the binoculars that hung around his neck, he took in the blood on Brown's chest. The pansy had given them a demonstration. "Shit!" He threw the binoculars, only momentarily irritated as they shattered into pieces at his feet. The time of waiting was over. He had to strike now!
