I'm so glad people seem to be liking this story! I've gotten a ton of Story Alert and Favorite notifications on just the first chapter. Only got one review though? [\hint] This chapter is longer than the other two, mainly because the bulk of the story falls here. The other chapters are more like a prologue and epilogue. Also, if any words run together, forgive me. FF lost its mind when I uploaded the document and took all the spaces out of an entire paragraph. I think I caught all the jumbles, but a couple might have escaped me. - scgirl_317
Matt stood in the library, staring into the fireplace. He had been there for the past hour, trying to work out what to say. He had only had to do this a handful of times in his life, and he never could quite get the hang of it.
It was seven o'clock on the dot when the doorbell rang. There was a groan as the large wooden front door protested at being opened. Matt could hear Gerald admit Ronnie and Alesha and lead them to the study. He smiled as he pictured the look on their faces as they walked through the foyer.
"Well, who'd you grease palms with to get to use this place, Matty?" Ronnie asked, awe showing plainly on his face.
"Actually, I own it," Matt said, turning to face them. "This, and about a hundred acres surrounding."
"What do you mean, you own it?" Alesha asked.
"I mean, my name is on the deed. I bought it back in"—here he had to pause and think—"1857, I think. That whole decade kinda blurred together."
"1857?" Ronnie asked. "You're telling us that you bought this place a hundred and fifty years ago?"
"Sounds about right, yeah," Matt nodded.
"What are you, some kind of vampire or something?" Alesha asked, trying to joke, but Matt could hear the tremor in her voice.
"No, not a vampire."
Matt paused as he chose his next words carefully, but he decided that the best approach was to just be direct.
"I am Immortal. I am over two hundred years old, and the only way I can die is if my head were removed."
They simply stared at him for a moment before Ronnie finally said, "You're not kidding, are you?"
"I was born Archie Kennedy in 1779 to a family of little standing and less money. We lived in Drury Lane, and I was one of seven children. The only hope I had of amounting to anything was to enlist in the military. When I was twelve, my father sent me to serve under whatever captain would have me. I spent the next few years learning everything anyone would teach me. I had few friends, save another officer I served with for six years. Horatio Hornblower, a man who would become as famous as Nelson himself, was dearer to me than anything else in this world.
"Our captain was senile, having lost all grasp on reality, and plagued with paranoia. It almost cost the entire ship when he ran us aground off of Santo Domingo. Horatio, myself, and the two senior lieutenants had the doctor relieve him of his command. We knew it meant court martial, but we all would have been killed, otherwise.
"En route to Kingston, our Spanish prisoners revolted, and I was shot. My last act as a naval officer was to claim responsibility for pushing the captain into the hold of the ship—what everyone believed to be the event that precipitated the captain's final decline into insanity—even though I know for a fact that no one pushed him. It was my only choice, to save Horatio from hanging. I died the next day. What followed was bizarre, to say the least."
1802 – Kingston, Jamaica
It was dark when Archie felt consciousness creep back to him, accompanied by an odd buzzing sensation in the back of his mind. It was odd, because he could have sworn he was dead; he had felt himself slip away from his body, and yet, here he was. If he was in Heaven, it sounded just like Kingston had.
He opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. He was in a small room, furnished by only a chair, wash basin, and the cot he occupied. A small, high window let in limited moonlight, but he was able to make out shapes in the room well enough.
A figure sat in the chair, and Archie thought he recognized him. He appeared to be Benjamin Adams, the physician who had tended him the last few days since the Renown had landed in Kingston.
"Dr. Adams?"
"Welcome back, Mr. Kennedy," he said calmly, leaning forward so that the moonlight illuminated his face.
"I should be dead," Archie said, doing his best to keep his voice level. "Why am I not dead?"
"Because you're Immortal," Benjamin replied. "You can not die, unless your head is cut off."
He stood and walked over to the trunk by the wall, lifting the lid and removing some clothing which he handed to Archie.
"Put these on. We need to leave soon."
"Where are we going?" Archie asked, slipping the shirt over his head.
"New Orleans. Our ship sails at dawn."
"America?"
"Good a place as any for a fresh start," Benjamin shrugged. "I was headed there, anyway, before I encountered you. That reminds me, they speak mostly French there. How well do you speak French?"
"Not at all," Archie replied with a slightly bewildered look.
"Hm, depending on the wind, it'll take about three days to get there. That's not a lot of time, but you should be able to at least pick up the basics."
Archie paused as the reality of his situation began to sink in.
"I can never see any of my friends again, can I?"
"You died today," Benjamin told him plainly. "Mr. Hornblower was there when you died. Going back is impossible."
Benjamin could see how walking away from his friends hurt the young man, but he also saw how Archie realized the truth. He watched as Archie steeled himself to accept his fate. There was no other option.
"If we're going to be together for a while, you can call me Archie."
"Very well, Archie, call me Ben."
"I stayed with Ben for many years. He showed me the world, taught me how to survive. We parted ways in"—here Matt had to pause to think—"1823, I think. We stayed in touch, but went our own ways. I changed my name, took on a whole new life. I've been a painter, a barrister, and many other things over the years."
"You're two hundred and thirty-two years old?" Ronnie asked, the tale he'd been told slowly sinking in.
"Yes," Matt replied, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he waited for their reactions.
"There are others like you?" Ronnie added.
"I run across them, occasionally," Matt nodded. "I stay in touch with a few, like Ben, but I try to keep as low a profile as possible."
He had purposefully left out the more graphic details regarding duels to the death and the constant need to be on his guard. He would cross that bridge when and if he came to it, but he wanted to spare his friends the gruesome truth of what his life was like for as long as possible.
"You actually died, yesterday?" Alesha asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yes. Thankfully, the bullets didn't do too much extra damage, so I was able revive quickly."
Alesha sank into one of the armchairs placed around the fireplace, resting her head in her hands. This was too much. She would believe the bullet-proof vest story before she believed this. And yet, the evidence was plain before her. There was no way Matt could afford to even rent the abbey for one day—let alone stay there for a week—on his CID salary. Maybe if he saved every penny for ten years, but that was the point. The savings that Matt could have amassed over two hundred years was enough to make her head swim.
Then there was the fact that, less than thirty-six hours before, Matt had been dead. He had bled out after getting shot twice. She had felt his heart stop. But here he was, standing before her, as alive as she. To say she was unnerved by it was an understatement.
Ronnie, on the other hand, seemed to be coming to grips with this new information much faster.
"So, the next time we go to take down an armed suspect, I'll just stay behind you, then," he piped up.
"Hey, I do feel pain, you know," Matt protested with a smile, glad to know at least Ronnie was still with him. "Getting shot still hurts like hell."
"But you still took the bullets for Kaden," Alesha said quietly.
"Of course," Matt replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He could die, I can't. What kind of man would I be if I just stood by instead of saving him?"
Alesha smiled softly, "Not the man I fell in love with."
With those eight words, Matt felt the monstrous weight lifted from his shoulders. Ronnie smiled, looking back and forth between his two friends. Maybe now they would finally do something about the mutual attraction that had simmered under the surface for the past few years.
"Excuse me, sir, but dinner will be ready in ten minutes," interrupted the housekeeper.
"Thank you, Rose," Matt said.
"Will your friends be joining us, Mr. Kennedy?" she asked.
"I could eat," Ronnie offered quickly.
Matt laughed, then looked at Alesha, the hopeful look on his face clearly asking her to stay. Those blue eyes that she had never been able to say no to watched her closely, and she found herself agreeing.
"I just hope it's nothing fancy," she said.
"Chicken pie, ma'am," Rose informed her.
"Chicken pie?" Alesha asked incredulous.
"What'd you expect?" Matt asked, smiling. "Fillet mignon?"
"Kinda," she muttered.
Rose smiled and returned to the dining room. Once she was gone, Ronnie laughed.
"Well, nice to know none of this went to your head," he chuckled.
"Hey, you've seen my flat," Matt replied. "I'm fine with very little. The only reason I even bought this place is because it's a converted abbey. It made sense to have a home on Holy Ground so I would have a safe place to fall back to."
"Holy Ground?" Alesha asked.
Matt paused before answering, mentally censuring himself, "Holy Ground is the only place where my kind are completely safe. It's sort of a neutral ground where we don't have to worry about anything. The faith doesn't matter, just as long as someone considers it sacred."
"Safe from what?" Ronnie asked hesitantly.
"Ourselves."
That was all Matt said before heading out to the hallway.
"Guest bathroom's down the hall, just past the stairs, if you want to wash up before dinner. Rose will make sure you don't get lost."
Alesha and Ronnie traded a look, unsure of what had just happened. One minute, Matt was smiling and laughing; the next, he had closed himself off from them. Both had the thought that they had pushed him too far.
"He has far more demons than we ever imagined," Ronnie quietly surmised.
"Whatever it is, we can't let him slip away," Alesha told him. "We almost lost him, yesterday. I'm not about to waste a second chance to be with him. Whatever he's seen, whatever he's done, he has to know we still love him."
"Let's start with dinner," Ronnie smiled.
He offered Alesha his arm, and they headed down the hallway. Rose was standing outside the dining room waiting for them. Ronnie stopped and looked at her; she appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties.
"How long have you known Matt?" he asked.
"I've known Mr. Kennedy my entire life," she answered. "I was born in the abbey. My mother was his housekeeper before me. I inherited the position when she retired, twenty years ago. I honestly couldn't wish for a better boss."
Ronnie shook his head, still coming to terms with the fact that his apparently younger friend was old enough to be his ten-times-great-grandfather. It boggled the mind.
It was ten o'clock when the friends finished dinner. Ronnie was set to drive back to London, but Matt had other ideas.
"It's late, and I really don't want to have to worry about you falling asleep behind the wheel," he insisted. "You'll stay here for the night."
"We don't want to be an inconvenience," Alesha protested.
"Oh for heaven's sake," Matt snorted. "Once upon a time, the south wing was for guests and the north wing was for family. Now, staff lives in the south wing, while Gerald, Rose, and I are the only ones in the north. It'll take all of ten minutes to get a couple of rooms ready. Spend the night, have breakfast, then head back to town in the morning."
"Well, with an offer like that, how can we refuse?" Ronnie pointed out.
Matt gave them a megawatt smile, "Great! Head on back to the library, and I'll get you in a few minutes."
Matt dashed off to find Rose and prepare the rooms. Ronnie chuckled at Matt.
"That boy is downright schizophrenic," he muttered as they went back into the library. "So far, he's gone from anxious to happy to reticent to excited."
"He has a right to be," Alesha defended, taking a seat by the fireplace. "He's lived through over half a dozen wars. He's had to watch countless friends die in battle or from old age. He's died countless times, himself, most likely. And consider that witches were still burned at the stake into the nineteenth century. Immortality would definitely be enough to label someone a witch. He's had to be paranoid about who he could trust with this. To be honest, I'm surprised he's as sane as he is."
"Look at you, taking up the cause," Ronnie grinned. "You seem to have adjusted pretty well in the past few hours."
Alesha shrugged, "He's still Matt, just older. Whether his name is Matt Devlin or Archie Kennedy, he's still the same man we love."
Ronnie knew she was right. He was about to reply when the person in question returned to tell them the rooms were ready.
"Well, if you kids don't mind, I think I'm going to turn in," Ronnie said, wanting to give the two a chance to be alone. "Try not to stay up too late."
With another smile, he found Rose in the hallway and had her lead him to one of the prepared rooms, leaving Matt and Alesha alone in the library. Suddenly self-conscious, Matt crossed the room to sit on the loveseat next to Alesha. She had now said that she loved him twice, but he was still hesitant.
"I, uh, I was wondering," he stuttered, "did you mean it?"
Alesha looked at him, confusion apparent, "Mean what?"
"When you, uh, when you said you love me," he explained, wishing his voice wasn't so shaky.
Alesha looked straight in front of her, weighing her next words. She thought he sounded hopeful, but did she dare get her hopes up? Well, she had already said it twice. Once more couldn't hurt.
"Yes, I meant it," she said.
Matt nodded, and a smile began spreading across his face, "Good. I meant it too."
With that, he turned her head to face him, and placed a light kiss on her lips. Or, at least, he had intended for it to be a light kiss.
Alesha had other ideas.
It took very little encouragement for her to take over the kiss. Running a hand through his hair, she pulled him closer. Matt matched her actions, gently holding the base of her neck as he delved into her mouth. The taste of her was exquisite, and he had to suppress moan of delight.
He ran a hand down her side and came to rest on her hip. There, her shirt had ridden up slightly, and his fingers ventured to tease the exposed skin. The touch sent a shudder throughout her entire body, and she was not as shy about expressing her pleasure.
Matt pulled back and placed several feather-light kisses along her jaw and temple, then rested his forehead against hers. Their eyes met, reflecting equal measures desire and love at each other. Matt smiled softly, placing both hands against her face.
"I love you," he said for the first time since he died.
"I love you, too," Alesha replied, wearing a matching smile.
Without another word, Matt took her hands in his and stood. He led her slowly out of the library and up the grand staircase in the foyer. Turning down into the north wing, he led her down the large hallway. Ronnie could be faintly heard snoring in one of the rooms. Matt continued past to the room at the end.
With a flourish, Matt opened the door to reveal the master suite. The bedroom alone was almost as big as Matt's entire London flat. A fire blazed in a fireplace big enough to stand in, with a small sitting area surrounding. A king-size bed looked small in the large room. Off of the main room was a dressing room, and bathroom beyond that. It looked like some of the historically preserved country houses that Alesha had seen in magazines.
The overwhelmed feeling lasted briefly, as Matt had closed the door and was once again attacking her neck. Alesha responded by working on the buttons of his shirt. Clothes were removed as the two made their way towards the bed. No more words were spoken as they began to explore each other's boundaries.
When they were finally spent, Matt pulled the blanket up over them, holding Alesha close. She tucked her head under his chin and relaxed as he pulled her close. They quietly basked in the warm glow from both their activities and the fire, and they drifted off to sleep.