The Butterfly Pt 06 Immortal

This is part six of our story, and it contains no sex! (Don't worry, more is coming) While it can be read individually, reading previous chapters may help you to get to know Christine and Peter better. We join our story in progress, after Peter has been gunned down in front of his wife by Madeline, a former lover...

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When Peter set foot in the hotel lobby, he was barely bleeding. By the time he ran a hot bath and slumped into the tub, the three holes in his chest were merely bright pink, barely visible through the muddy red water that surrounded him as he scrubbed himself clean. He turned the water to hot, laid back with his eyes closed and waited for the inevitable. It didn't come quite yet. He had to give Christine credit. She followed him back to the hotel, albeit at a safe distance, and stood at the door of the bathroom, watching him undress, and not saying a word. Finally, as he slipped into his black silken bathrobe, and collapsed into bed, she decided to broach the subject.

"So, I guess this is what you've been keeping from me; the big secret. Care to explain, or should I just check myself into the asylum?"

Peter sighed. He had never done this before - explained. He felt like he had gone through it in his head hundreds of times but had never come up with a great way to start.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, darling. I'm the same man you've been loving, fucking, going to baseball games with, and forcing to eat your mother's cooking for the past two years. Yes, I have kept this from you, but you have to understand it is not something that is ever revealed. The risks are too great."

"Explain it. All of it."

She sat down in the chair at a distance, and crossed her arms. Well, at least she was still here, Peter thought. He would have to do more damage control than anyone in history.

"Well, it's not like it is in the movies. There's no secret society, no superpowers, no swords or magic, no nanotechnology, no secret origin story, and no, I'm not from the future, or space, or an alien ship - I don't think so anyway. I'm just a man. I just won't age past this point, unless all of a sudden something changes and I do, and I won't die from anything this world or anyone in it throws at me. That's pretty much the gist of it."

"So where ARE you from? Is your name really Pyotr? Oh...god...that means Madeline is..."

"Yes, just like me."

They sat in silence for a long time. Christine started to think back over the past weeks and years before it, making connections, filling in the blanks, replaying events in her head and fitting them into the new reality. She had a million "what if" questions, and a million questions about her husband's life. She realized she didn't know him at all, and everything had been a lie.

"If I stay here - if I don't walk out that door right this instant, will you be honest with me about everything? Answer every question?"

"Yes, everything I know. Do you promise me that you won't start freaking out when you hear the answers?"

Christine went over to the bar. She fixed herself a drink, drank half of it, and topped herself off. She returned to her seat.

"I can't promise that, but I'll try, Peter, because you've been good to me. Because I've loved you so, and I know you've loved me. But I just don't know."

"Fair enough. Go ahead."

"What was your relationship with Madeline? How long have you know her? Why aren't you with her now?"

A long pause. "You're going to start freaking out."

"Peter!"

"Okay, okay. I've known her since...I don't know, the 6th or 7th century. It was Roman Gaul at the time. Things get a little foggy, you know, after 1300 years. It's easy to forget. We've...oh god...been married, I don't know, five times perhaps? It never works out. Never. But she and I have tried and have come together time and again over the ages. Sometimes we are together only briefly, and sometimes for a lifetime. What else are we supposed to do? It's so very lonely. We do connect, definitely for a time. But it ends up being impossible for us both to preserve and we often need a break. A long break. But we gravitate back toward each other. And...she's not the only one."

"So she's your ex-wife? The holy mother god worst bitch ex-wife ever that you keep letting back into your life?"

"That's certainly an oversimplification, but yes. She is one of my ex-wives."

"She shot you three times tonight."

"It wasn't the first time, my dear. I told you she was volatile."

"So, Agincourt. She's not just a history buff. That movie really meant something to her."

"Yes. It's why I was eager to see it. We were there, she and I. We were there 600 years ago."

"Do you...have any children...ugh, and do you have any with her?"

"Yes, we seem to be the same as any human as far as reproduction. It makes keeping track of your family tree rather difficult when there are so many branches, but yes, I'm sorry. They usually end up being quite exceptional, the children of an immortal, but there are very few of us, so it tends to be okay. And we cannot mate with each other. We are very secretive, and I've tried to let other men take credit for fathering my children. Most of us have values from a different age, as perhaps you have seen. Some among us consider us the fathers and mothers of history."

"How many?"

"How many children do I have? Oh god, that I don't know."

"Ugh, no. Not how many children do you have, how many of you are there?"

"There is a census, but it's not exact. We have a rough guess as to how it works. It seems one of us is born every hundred years or so. This has always seemed odd to me, because more people are being born on Earth now than ever before. You would think there would be more of us 'born' as well. Perhaps there will be and we just haven't seen it happen yet. Anyway, it's difficult to get to an exact number. It seems the earliest of us cannot remember our origins, so it's possible we predate the earliest civilizations. All in all, there are less than, say, 200 of us? There are no Neanderthal looking types, so I don't think it goes back that far. There are a few among us that have tried to record the secret history of our kind, but honestly, they don't know any more than the rest of us in terms of 'why' or 'how' we exist. They just keep track of the Lore."

"The Lore? The stories of your kind?"

"Yes, for the most part. All the stories we've inspired that is. Dracula, Rasputin, the Greek and Roman gods, our 'demigod' children, witches and wizards, magic, etc. The list goes on and on. We're not special, like I said. We don't have any unique ability, other than being able to heal very quickly and being unusually resistant to damage. We rarely get sick, injured, and whatever else there is - and when we do, we just don't die from it. Probably the biggest advantage is carrying forward your skill set, learning over multiple lifetimes rather than just one. We tend to be good at a lot of different things, and can become quite exceptional at them as well."

"Such as lovemaking?" She finally cracked a smile. It was a ray of hope for him that he hadn't lost her.

"Yes, that would be one thing. Another, as you saw with Madeline, is self-defense. There are times in all of our lives when we are hunted. When we must disappear or escape, or when we must fight. Imagine a practitioner of the martial arts who learns all they can in a lifetime. Their skill and knowledge would be vast, for a mortal. Now imagine that multiplied over ten lifetimes, or a hundred lifetimes."

"It sounds terrifying to be honest. What stops you from being completely selfish and self-interested, and trying to set yourselves up as the gods of us mere mortals?"

"It has happened. Some have tried. It is rather easy to amass and maintain great wealth and to cultivate powerful friends and allies. But it is a balance. It works both ways. For those who seek to upset that balance, there are those of us who would preserve it. Also, our justice...is severe."

"Your justice? What can you do?"

"Incapacitation, confinement, and exile from humanity are easier than you think. The proverbial Loki with his liver being eaten for eternity. That sort of thing. It happens sometimes. Also, and I think you should feel good about this next part, most of us are fundamentally good, or at least neutral. It seems that with great age, wisdom follows. You are our children, remember, in many ways. We have shaped your history and given birth to many of you. Most of us...love you all deeply, and wish to see you prosper. After all, we have to live here for eternity. We want Earth to be a paradise, not a cinder."

Christine finished the last of her drink and poured another. She would have been exhausted but her adrenaline was still coursing through her. She was, if this wasn't all bullshit, hearing the most important secret on Earth, and who doesn't like hearing a secret? She sat back down.

"So this is going to be a bitchy question, but I think I'm entitled. Why does Madeline get to be 20 years old forever? Not that you're not a handsome man, but you're not 20."

"Hah, she is trying to look older for her age, but it is another mystery I'm afraid. We just stop aging when we do. It's different for everyone. She got very lucky, I suppose you could say. Or not. It's more difficult to conceal your age when you're very young. I could pass for 35, or 55. I have more flexibility before I have to 'drop off the grid' I think is the phrase they use these days. We are all wrestling with what this new technology will mean for us. Fingerprinting, facial recognition software and the like will change things for us, but to us it is new, coming as it does in the briefest of moments where we are now. There is a movement among us to harness this technology and to control it to help conceal ourselves. Our resources are vast and none of us want to risk exposure. We have friends in many governments, but even they do not have a complete view. Were we ever exposed, in this day and age, it would be not just a media sensation, but the end of us. We would become lab rats and prisoners and never see the sun. We all fear that. It's why I have told you nothing. Why I would likely have never told you."

"You would have let me grow old, and believe that you always looked great, huh? That is a dilemma. You already have me thinking about how old I'm going to feel in 30 years."

"I know. I'm sorry. We normally don't become so attached to any one particular mortal. Hence Madeline's ire. If she thought you were just another of my playthings, she wouldn't give it another thought. But I married you. And you brought...you bring me such joy, and life. I have found something in you I have never found, not with her, nor with any other immortal or mortal. I told you that you were the love of my life. That is a great accomplishment, and also a great tragedy for me."

"Because in 70 years tops, I'll be dead even though I'm the 'love of your life.' And you'll be back with Madeline, or...someone else."

Her eyes welled with tears. She was confronting her own mortality and the loss of her great love all at once, along with the knowledge that there was at least one woman out there, probably more, who loved her husband deeply, and would outlive her easily to have him again when she was gone.

"Yes dear, you will die, and I will live. I have already lived with that thought for two years, but I have sought to enjoy our time together, what little time we have."

"Hah! To you I'm a terminal patient with 70 years to live if I'm lucky. If this weren't such a shitty, unbelievable situation, it would be kind of funny."

Peter rose from the bed and kneeled down in front of his wife. He found her quite lovely when she was in tears. He took her hands in his, and kissed her cheeks. She pressed her forehead against his and took his face in her hands.

"What are we going to do, Peter? This is crazy. How will I live like this? How can I live WITH this?"

"It won't be of any comfort, my love, but I have lived with this all of my very long life. I have watched every mortal I cared about grow old and die. Lovers, children, friends all have left me. It's enough to leave one feeling very detached, if you're not careful. But then I found you. And I knew I wanted to spend every moment I could with you. Let's not waste any more time. Will you be mine?"

Christine sniffed, wiped her face, and looked into the infinite blue eyes of a man she could only begin to comprehend. It was like looking into the storm of what her life would become if she stayed with him. But in that storm she saw his love and devotion for her.

"Why not?" She smiled. "Life's too short, right?"