All My Immortals

Mon Dieu! If there was one thing…well, just one thing…Alexandre du Pont despised, it was screeching females. Right now, his drunken stupor kept him from figuring out which female was screaming the loudest. Was it the tiny blonde he had by the throat, down on the bed? Or was it one of the many whores who had been summoned by the shrieks of the blonde under him?

“Shut up, whore! Lying, treacherous bitch!” He squeezed, and felt that oh, so satisfying tremble under his palm, when the throat closed and they gave up the fight. Her blue eyes were so wide, but not the right shade…never the same shade as the woman before.
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She didn’t want to fight with him. The summer heat was oppressive, and the humid black cloud only added to his foul mood. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be, she thought, not as easy to coax him out of the storm. Perhaps the lines on her face, or the body that was not as toned as it once was, or her hearing, which had been slipping more and more…maybe it was one of those things, or all of them, that had him pulling away.

“Mark…”

“It’s too hot. It’s just fucking summer.” He didn’t look up from the book Methos had given him, the one about the stone.

“Feels like winter.” Before his head jerked up, she had left the room, afraid that she might cry after her metaphorical statement. The magic that had brought her back had held off time for a while longer than it should have, but it was never enough for them…it could never be enough.

“I’m dying.” Her hearing had not weakened so much that she didn’t hear him come into the kitchen behind her.

“You’ve been doing that, all along.” His voice sounded almost accusatory.

“Yeah, but I used to make it look good.” It was a weak attempt at humor, but an attempt, nonetheless. She had caught the flu, a month before, and it had taken a toll.

“We need a vacation.” He slipped his arms around her still slender waist, kissing her neck as she chopped up avocado for the salad. Avocado was supposed to help keep skin youthful and supple. Hers wasn’t bad, thanks to the liberal amounts of sunscreen and lotions she used, plus she had been blessed with good genes.

“What about the puppy?” Mark had given her a dog, for her birthday, and it was currently peeing on the tapestry rug under the dining table. The little puggle was named Spike, after her long dead brother.

“We can bring him. Where can we go? What would you like to see that we haven’t been to?” Before you die? That was the part that he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“The Fountain of Youth?” It was a bad attempt at a joke, but she made it, only half angry and half resigned. Alexa figured she had maybe fifteen years left, twenty if she was really, really lucky.

Mark just buried his face in her hair, which she still dyed gold, though she was growing more and more resigned to letting it go silver. Mira had urged her to let it go silver, with butter yellow highlights. Of course, Mira had died last year with no hair at all, envious of Alexa’s thick mane. Breast cancer had robbed her of her dark locks, as well as her dignity, and she died peacefully at the beach house with them caring for her. Alexa couldn’t take another person she loved dying of cancer in her arms.

“Take me to the Taj Majal. We haven’t been there. I’d love to see India and all that.” The country had been through war and hard times, but the last decade had seen peace there, and it was flourishing. “Can we?” Alexa laid the knife down and turned in his arms. They had plenty of money, thanks to smart investments, inheritances from Spike and Mira, and a generous gift from Aramis in his will, before he was killed in the war between the Watchers and Immortals. His banker somehow got most of his estate in France, but the former Musketeer set aside a trust for his ex-wife, with a long letter seeking her pardon for his crimes while under the curse of madness. Included in that gift was a priceless rosary, which she learned had been owned by the mother of Louis XV. He gave it to her because it was beautiful pink jade, like the one her mother had owned. That was thoughtful, even though Alexa had found it difficult to forgive him after his abuse of her. Even so, his murder by a fanatical Guild trio had been one of several assassinations of ancient Immortals, and Alexa had worried about Methos potentially being a target, as well as Stelios, Tea, Aiden, Duncan, Cassandra and others she knew. Methos’ wife, Ali, had died in the fighting, and Methos had warned Mark that given his position as one of the oldest Immortals, they might try to hurt Alexa to get to him, a warning that Mark took seriously as Methos kept a public distance from her.

“Let’s go there, and see some of the temples and things. That banker? His assistant said she has bought a bunch of hotels and she has the old Oberai Amarvilas and we could stay there. It would be like a honeymoon…kind of. Please, Captain? I would love to see the Taj Mahal. I’ve heard so much about it.” They had traveled a great deal, often in search of clues to break his curse. But they had not been to India, and she really wanted to get away from home. “Maybe Little Spike could stay with Chela? Her grandson loves the puppy.” She kissed his neck, and snuggled close to him.

Sometimes she wondered if he ever found her aging body undesirable. She had kept in great shape, through good diet and exercise, and she took great care with her skin and grooming. But, still, sometimes in the harsh light of day, she would look at her naked body in the mirror and sigh, wondering if he ever felt repulsed by how she was growing so old and he was still so fit and strong. Alexa’s desire, unlike some women her age, had not waned, not at all, and not just because of his physical beauty. She always wanted to be close to him, to hold him and keep their bond strong. “That temple is there, the one of all religions. Maybe they can be helpful? I just think it might be nice to escape from this heat and do something.”

He felt so good, and she felt so safe in his arms. When they were like this, she could forget her wrinkles, or that her breasts were no longer high and perfect (though they were still damn good!), or that she had a few age spots on her arms. In his arms, she felt timeless and loved. Summer or winter, Alexa was weathering all of the storms with him, and she was surprised that he had been more calm than she had been, lately, about the change of seasons. They had some time left, and she just hoped that she could keep strong, and spend it in good health, still enjoying all of the passion and fun that they had cherished with each other. She didn’t want to think about the ending of seasons, and she didn’t want him to dwell on them. They would pass unheralded, while they were too busy to dwell on them.

As Mark had promised Alexa, before Christmas he took Alexa to whichever Christmas markets she wanted to go to, anywhere in Europe. Some were large ones, like in Birmingham, Vienna, Prague, and of course, a few in Germany such as, Cologne, Frankfurt, and the quintessential one, the Christkindl Markt in Munich, and they also visited a few in small villages that were nowhere as grand but had very quaint atmospheres in snowy, historic settings where they could enjoy Bratwurst, Kartoffelrösti a greasy, flat, fried hash brown with a side of apple sauce as well as a cup of Glühwein. And as he had promised her, he didn't protest any of the flights they took, just permitting himself a small whiskey to settle his nerves. He also didn't complain as they walked from stall-to-stall spending several hours minutes at each one while Alexa browsed, appearing to look at every single thing, and buying plenty of them, which he carried for her without moaning. He didn't even huff with impatience once! Pretty good, considering he was very much a see what he wants, get it, pay for it and get out typical guy type of shopper.

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OOC: Roleplay for futurescourge, empire_muses and loyal_2a_fault at allmyimmortals. Photos under the cut, one probably not work appropriate.

Eli Loker pointed to the center photograph on the digital, high definition screen, which had a total of five photos on it.

"Robert Grayson, Chief Executive Officer of HSU Financial." The five women in the room, including Gillian and Ria, leaned forward in their seats and smirked, a microexpression that annoyed both Lightman and Eli.

"I'd hit that so hard..." Eliza, the IT analyst, sighed. The other women, and one gay male, all nodded in unison.
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You may provide a written interpretation for the doodles.

Cal Lightman hated going home, again. London...too bloody many memories. He liked the idea of an entire ocean between his life and his past. Gillian, however, had the flu.

"You're not really bloody sick. Flying actually helps with stomach...you know...all that rolling about."

Gillian then threw up on his favorite trainers, and went home.

"MI-5. Well, this is destined to end badly." He was muttering into his cellphone, as he stomped into the building, schlumping along in his long, tweed, coat.

"Cal, please, stand up straight and..." Gillian had a coughing fit, which only made Lightman smirk.

"Getting the phlegm out, are we?"

"Be nice, or I'm hanging up." God, but she could sound like someone's mother, from a distance. Not his mother, but someone's. "The subject's name is Lucas North. They need you to read him. Did you read the jacket?"

"No, I watched the in-flight movie, ate peanuts and annoyed all of the flight attendants, all the way across the Atlantic."

"The last part is true, and you probably drank, the whole flight." Gillian was smirking, he just knew it.

The receptionist looked up at him, expectantly, but before she could ask if he needed help, he slapped his hand on the counter, and raised his black bag. "Right, luv, I have loos to fix? Men's lockers?"

A sharp-eyed, older man had walked out, and responded before the pretty girl with the confused face could query any further. "Down the hall, to the right." He waved off the girl's questions, and walked back to his office, clearly a man who was in charge.

Inside the men's locker area, Cal Lightman set his bag down on a bench, and found himself alone with a handsome, dark haired, man. "I'll call you back, Gillian. I have a loo to flush." The younger man was dressing, and Lightman could see he was lean, fit, very good looking, though his nose was a bit Roman for Cal's taste. However, it was the man's numerous tattoos that caught the researcher's eye, and he examined them closely. After a few moments, the tattooed spy turned to face Lightman, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly.

"Morning. I was just fascinated with all of the doodling that someone has been doing on your chest. That's quite a lot of art, for one bloke to carry around." Cal saw a flash of both annoyance and suspicion, in his face. "I'm Cal Lightman."

The name made Lucas North raise one eyebrow, but he said nothing, just pulling on a dark blue shirt, and buttoning it.

Well...this was awkward.

"Those...doodles. They mean anything?" Cal shrugged out of his coat, and tossed it on the bag, on the bench. "I'm not trying to pick you up, here, mate. This isn't a pub, and I'm not trying to get in your well toned arse. I wouldn't be inside MI-5, unless I was supposed to be, so let's not play hard to get."

One thing Lightman knew, from the man's face. He didn't trust anyone.

Dr. Cal Lightman
Lie to Me

This is a set up for roleplay with gnothi_seauton.

OOC: Takes places in the future when Danny is about 70 yrs old, so around 2075-ish. RP storyline for loyal_2a_fault, futurescourge, and later (hopefully) involve other Immortals. X-posted to prince_of_tabar.

Autumn. London offices of Global News Network

"This could be your big chance, Alyssa." The head of entertainment for the London bureau looked over her desk at the young woman in front of her. "We want a big exclusive on this man, everything about him. He owns three of the most popular nightclubs slash resorts in the world; he's young, rich and handsome, a playboy, but he's never given a personal interview, the security around him is airtight, and nobody knows a damned thing about him. To dig up any info on him will be huge, and if it's ours..." A ratings landslide.

The dark haired girl, in her mid twenties, gazed at the definitely handsome man on the screen hanging on the office wall. "The competition will be left wondering what hit them." She might be young, but Alyssa knew the cutthroat world of TV journalism, relished it. "So, I take it that you're after more than just an interview with this...Daniel Harrington, Helen?"

Helen smiled and nodded. "Interviews are good if you only want to hear what the subject wants you to know. That expose you did for Damien on Earth Loves Peace was excellent investigative skills. You really got in there with the group." ELP were one of the hottest new bands around, with a very environmental agenda that, given the planet's deteriorating situation, was becoming more heard. "Do the same with Daniel Harrington; see how close you can get to him. I mean, it won't exactly be unpleasant, will it?"

"No, not at all. Will I have a cover?" She paused, smiling. "Will I get credit for the story?" That was more important. Yes, her investigation into ELP was good, but her immediate boss, Damien Dyson, had been the one to break it, citing that her anonymity as well as skills could be useful again.

"Yes, of course you will. You'll be working this assignment for me, not Damien, and after, this will put you in front of the camera, where you belong." Alyssa was well aware that Helen was probably just stroking her ego in order to get her to take the assignment, but she had also already helped make the names of two now primetime commentators. "Now, we've set up a background for you, and it should be airtight. His security is known for doing extremely thorough background checks. You're a photography student who has won a chance to work with Pierre de Troyes photographing some of the world's top models at The World in Dubai. One of the islands has a resort and Harrington has just opened his latest nightclub there. All you have to do is get noticed."

She made it sound so easy! "What about a name?"

"It's best to keep it close to yours." Helen handed the younger woman a folder with all the information she would need. "I thought Lisa would suit you. Lisa Perez."

***

( Dubai. One week later )