Goussainville, France
The plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle Airport under the cover of night, the tarmac illuminated by a scattering of lights that cast long shadows across the ground. The group disembarked quickly, the pilot giving them a terse nod before turning away. Andy led the way, her pace brisk as they moved through a series of hidden pathways, careful to avoid any potential eyes that might be watching. Charlie followed close behind, her senses on high alert despite the lingering effects of alcohol and exhaustion.
She didn't want to know how the Russian mafia had managed to arrange such a seamless and unchecked entry into France, and truth be told, she didn't care. All that mattered was that they were out of immediate danger and in another country—one step ahead of anyone who might be looking for them. Still, unease gnawed at her. They were fugitives now, crossing borders under the radar, and that reality weighed heavily on her already frayed nerves.
They trekked through the darkness along old, unused paths that wound through the outskirts of the city. The night air was cool, carrying with it the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. The path they followed was overgrown, the signs of neglect apparent in the way the foliage encroached upon the trail. Eventually, they arrived at a derelict church, its silhouette stark against the night sky. The building was worn, its stone walls crumbling in places, and the air around it was thick with the weight of time and abandonment.
"This place has been deserted for over fifty years," Andy explained as they approached the entrance.
"Why?" Nile asked. But the deafening sound of a large plane flying low overhead answered her question before Andy could.
Charlie stared up at the old church, its once grand façade now weathered and decayed. She could almost feel the history embedded in its walls, the echoes of the past reverberating in the silence. As they stepped inside, the musty scent of disuse hit her, mingling with the faint smell of damp stone, rotting wood and oddly enough, aromatic food. Despite its state of disrepair, there was something about the church that felt almost sacred, as if the weight of time had imbued it with a kind of solemn reverence.
It was here that they met the others.
Three men awaited them inside the church, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and caution as they approached. Andy introduced them one by one: Booker, Nicky, and Joe. Each of them vastly different in appearance and demeanour, but it was clear that their bond was strong, forged through centuries of shared experiences.
Nile was greeted warmly, the men embracing her with a mix of sympathy and understanding. They spoke to her with kind voices, offering reassurances and explanations as they tried to help her come to terms with the new life that had been thrust upon her. There was a genuine warmth in their interactions, a camaraderie that spoke of deep trust and shared purpose.
Charlie, on the other hand, stood awkwardly on the periphery, unsure of where she fit into this strange new world. She wasn't one of them—could never be one of them—and that realization left her feeling more isolated than ever. Although Andy had told the others about her, Charlie could sense their confusion and hesitation. They didn't ask why she was there, didn't voice their questions aloud, but the silent glances they exchanged with Andy spoke volumes.
It was a silent conversation that Charlie wasn't a part of, one that made her feel like even more of an outsider. The pity in their eyes, the unspoken questions, all served to remind her of the gulf that separated her from the immortals. She could never truly understand what they had been through, could never walk the same path they did.
The group eventually moved to a large wooden table in a room to the back of the church, its surface worn smooth by years of use. The men gestured for Nile to sit, encouraging her to join them as they continued their discussion. Charlie hesitated at the edge of the room, her heart heavy with the knowledge that she didn't belong here. This was Nile's place, Nile's story, and Charlie felt like an intruder, a tag-along in a journey that wasn't hers.
She watched as Nile glanced back at her, a small, grateful smile on her face. It was a silent gesture of appreciation for her company that made Charlie's heart ache with a mix of emotions. She knew she couldn't leave Nile alone, not now, but she also knew that she could never truly be a part of their world. That their paths would have to diverge at some point. But Charlie would stay for as long as Nile would have her by her side.
Andy appeared at Charlie's side, handing her a bowl of stew. Charlie accepted it with a quiet "thank you," her voice barely above a whisper. She stayed where she was, leaning against the cold stone wall, and slowly ate, her thoughts churning as she listened to the conversation unfolding at the table.
The talk of destiny and the long history of the immortals fascinated her, even as it reminded her of just how different she was from them. She couldn't help but smile at the way Nicky and Joe spoke of their love for one another, their bond evident in every word and glance. It was a love that had endured through centuries, unbroken by the passage of time. In their presence, Charlie felt a sense of warmth and acceptance, something she hadn't felt in a long time.
Andy nudged her gently, indicating with a nod that she should join them at the table. "You sure?" Charlie asked, her voice hesitant and uncertain. The idea of sitting with them, of trying to fit in where she so clearly didn't belong, made her stomach twist with anxiety.
"Yes," Andy replied, her expression kind and reassuring.
With a deep breath, Charlie followed Andy's lead and made her way to the table. She was just about to sit down when Nile spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet with a comment that made Charlie freeze in place.
"It's nice to see a place where people don't care who you love, right, Charlie?" Nile briefly glanced at her before turning back towards Nikki and Joe, a sincere smile on her face, not aware of how she had just outed Charlie's sexuality to the entire table.
For a moment, Charlie's mind went blank, the words sinking in like a stone in water. She couldn't believe that Nile, of all people, would say something like that. Nile knew how much her sexual identity troubled her, knew the constant rejection and fear she faced whenever people found out. The realization that Nile had just exposed her, however unintentionally, sent a shock of panic through Charlie's system.
She tensed up, her eyes darting around the table to gauge the others' reactions. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to keep her expression neutral, too scared that anything she did might shatter the fragile connection she had with these people. She was already an outsider, already didn't belong—she didn't need them to have any more reasons to push her away.
But to her surprise, Nicky was the first to speak, his voice warm and welcoming. "Ah, a fellow believer that love is love. Welcome," he said, smiling at her with genuine kindness. Joe echoed the sentiment with a kind smile of his own, and for the first time since they had arrived, Charlie felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could be accepted here.
But as Nile continued, mentioning how Charlie had faced shit for it back at the base, the panic began to creep back in. Her vision grew shaky, her hands trembling as she gripped the back of the chair she had yet to take. She knew Nile meant well, knew she was trying to make a point, but the vulnerability of the moment was too much for Charlie to bear.
"Nile, enough," Andy said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. She took a sip of her drink, her gaze steady as she looked at Nile.
Nile turned to Andy, confusion written across her face. "What? I didn't mean to—"
"I believe you are making our guest feel uncomfortable," Joe interjected gently, gesturing toward Charlie.
Nile turned to look at Charlie, her expression softening as she realized the effect her words had had. "Shit, sorry. I didn't mean to," she said, her voice full of regret.
Charlie waved her off, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine." But her white-knuckled grip on the chair and the tension in her shoulders told a different story. Nile seemed oblivious to the signs, but the others weren't.
Andy, noticing Charlie's discomfort, placed a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder, guiding her into the seat she had been hesitating to take. Charlie looked at Andy, her eyes filled with gratitude, and finally sat down, trying to push aside the lingering unease.
The air in the room was thick with tension, no one quite sure how to break it. The awkward silence stretched on until Nile, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, turned to Andy with a question that had been on her mind since they met.
"You're the oldest," Nile stated, her voice laced with both awe and a need for understanding.
Andy nodded, a resigned look in her eyes. "Yeah."
"So how old are you?" Nile pressed, wanting to know just how far back this strange journey went. Charlie could sense that the question was a sensitive one based on everyone's reactions, something that weighed heavily on Andy's mind.
Andy hesitated, her gaze dropping to the table. "Old," she said simply, hoping that would be enough to satisfy Nile's curiosity.
But Nile wasn't satisfied. "How old?" she repeated, her voice insistent. She needed to know. If this woman was dragging her around, upending her entire life, the least she deserved was the truth.
Charlie could see the discomfort in Andy's eyes, the way her shoulders tensed at the question. Wanting to ease the tension, Charlie decided to step in. "Nile, you should know better than to ask a woman how old she is," she joked, her tone light as she placed a reassuring hand on Andy's shoulder. The gesture was meant to provide comfort, a silent reminder that she wasn't alone in this.
The men around the table chuckled, the sound breaking through the heavy atmosphere and lightening the mood just a little. Andy's expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she glanced at Charlie.
"Too old," Andy finally said, her voice carrying a note of finality. She met Nile's gaze, hoping the answer would be enough to end the line of questioning.
Nile, however, wasn't quite ready to let it go. "So we really never die?" she asked, her voice tinged with fear as she looked around the table, searching for reassurance.
Andy shook her head slowly, her expression sombre. "Nothing that lives, lives forever."
The words hung in the air, and Charlie felt a jolt of surprise. She had assumed that once someone became immortal, they would stay that way forever. The idea that even the immortals could die, that their lives could still end, was both terrifying and humbling.
"But... you said that we were immortal," Nile argued, confusion and frustration evident in her tone.
"I know what I said," Andy replied, her voice heavy with the weight of experience. "And we mostly are. But we can die. One of us did."
The room grew still, the weight of Andy's words settling over them like a shroud. Charlie could see the weariness in Andy's eyes, the way her shoulders slumped as she relived an old and painful memory. Instinctively, Charlie tightened her grip on Andy's shoulder, offering what little comfort she could.
"He was a warrior, just like us," Andy continued, her voice growing quieter. "A long time ago. One day, your wounds just don't heal up anymore, and... we don't know when or why."
Nile looked stunned, her mind struggling to process what Andy was telling her. "So if we can die, then why would you shoot me? You could have killed me," Nile said, her voice a mix of anger and fear.
Andy met Nile's gaze, her expression serious. "You're too new," she said simply, as if that explained everything. And for the most part, it did.
The words seemed to shut Nile down, her eyes darting around the table as she took in the solemn expressions on everyone's faces. It was clear now—Nile was new to this life, and for now, she was safe. But the others? They had no such guarantees. Each time they went into battle, each time they were mortally wounded, there was no certainty that they would come back. They were living on borrowed time, fighting a war that didn't seem to have any end in sight.
"It's a lot to understand," Nicky said gently, his voice breaking the heavy silence that had settled over them. "I think you should get some rest. Come with me. I'll show you where you can sleep."
Nile nodded numbly, too overwhelmed to protest as Nicky led her away to a small section of the church that had been sectioned off with a divider. Charlie watched them go, her heart aching for her friend. She wanted to help Nile, wanted to be there for her, but she didn't know how. This was a journey Nile had to take on her own, a path that only she could walk.
"She wants to talk to her family," Andy said quietly, her gaze distant as she watched Nile disappear behind the divider.
"That's not gonna help her," Booker said, his voice filled with a kind of forlorn knowing that made Charlie's heart sink.
"You tell her that," Andy replied, a note of challenge in her voice as she reached for the bottle of vodka on the table and poured herself a generous amount.
"I already tried," Charlie admitted softly, the memory of her earlier conversation with Nile still fresh in her mind. She had tried to make Nile understand, had tried to get her to see that she couldn't go back to her old life. But Nile had refused to listen, too stubborn and scared to accept the truth.
Booker turned his gaze on Charlie, his eyes sharp with judgment. "And what would you know of it?" he asked, his tone biting.
The question hit Charlie like a punch to the gut. She tensed, her shoulders hunching as she dropped her head in shame. He was right—what did she know? She wasn't one of them, hadn't lived through the centuries of pain and loss that they had. Her hand slipped from Andy's shoulder, the comfort she had been offering now feeling hollow and undeserved.
"I've thought about it before, is all. Never mind. You're right," Charlie muttered, her voice barely audible as embarrassment flooded through her. She stood up from the table, the half-full bowl of stew forgotten as she placed it in the sink. The thought of finishing it turned her stomach, the knot of shame and self-doubt tightening in her chest.
Who was she to weigh in on any of this? She was just a human, just someone who had tagged along out of loyalty and fear. She had no place in their world, no right to sit at their table and pretend she understood what they were going through.
Hating herself for thinking she could ever belong, Charlie turned away from the group and made her way to the church's entrance. The night air hit her like a wave, cool and crisp against her flushed skin as she stepped outside. The graveyard that surrounded the old church was eerily quiet, the tombstones worn and crumbling with age.
She wandered among the graves, her mind racing as she tried to calm herself down. The weight of everything that had happened, the realization that she was truly an outsider in this strange new world, pressed down on her like a heavy burden. She had come so far, given up so much, only to find herself lost and alone in a place she didn't belong.
But as she stood there in the dark, the silence broken only by the distant hum of planes overhead, Charlie knew that she couldn't leave. She couldn't abandon Nile, couldn't turn her back on the person who had been her friend through thick and thin. Even if she didn't belong here, even if she was just a liability, she couldn't walk away. Not now.
Taking a deep breath, Charlie forced herself to push the doubts and fears to the back of her mind. She would find a way to make herself useful, to prove that she could be more than just a tag-along. She had to—for Nile's sake, if not for her own.
Because even if she didn't belong in their world, Nile did. And that was reason enough for Charlie to stay.