Colorado Springs, Colorado

First Church Cemetery.

New Year's Day, 1999

The black Jeep Wrangler pulled to a stop at the First Church Cemetery in the historical district of Colorado Springs. The driver cut the engine, then slowly gathered up the small bouquet of flowers in the passenger seat and exited the car.

The biting wind hit him as soon as he left the shelter of the Jeep. He pulled his bright blue ski jacket tighter around him, and brushed the windblown blond curls out of his face. He drew in a deep breath, then stepped over the wrought-iron fence that guarded the hundred-year-old-plus graves.

He found the old dirt path that led up to the church doors. The church was closed to worship now--it had been since 1886. It had just simply been too small to support the growing population of Colorado Springs, so a larger one had been built two miles down the road. But it still stood, preserved by the Historical Society of Colorado Springs.

The sight of the old church was comforting--ironic, since when he'd lived in Colorado Springs before, he'd rarely darkened its doors.

He turned away from the church and started wandering through the old graveyard. So many names here that brought back memories...Bray...Sully...Slicker....he closed his eyes for a brief moment to regain his composure, took a deep breath, and exhaled noisily.

He opened his eyes, then marched directly to the one grave he wanted. It was an old grave, erected in 1876. He knelt down next to the headstone, and brushed away the dirt that had accumulated in the one year since he'd been here last, and silently read the inscription.

IN LOVING MEMORY OF; COLLEEN COOPER COOK BELOVED WIFE AND DAUGHTER MARCH 3, 1854-JULY 4, 1876

The inscription lied, but only the silent visitor knew that. He and Duncan Macleod had actually buried Colleen here on New Year's Day last year.

It hadn't been easy--the cemetery had been closed to new burials since 1879. He and Macleod had to sneak Colleen's body back into the cemetery in the dark of night. But he'd promised Colleen if anything had ever happened to her, he'd see to it she'd be laid to rest next to her loved ones.

He'd never thought he'd have to rebury her in the grave he'd dug her out of over a hundred and twenty years before.

His eyes watered up unexpectedly, and he viciously wiped the tears away with his gloved hand. He laid the flowers down on the grave, then rested his hand on the cold stone.

"I miss ya, Colleen," he said softly. His throat tightened up, and he quickly stood up, blindly brushing dirt off the knees of his blue jeans. He somehow made his way back to the fence and crossed over it, stumbling back to his Jeep. He fumbled with the door handle and climbed into the driver's seat, slammed the door behind him, then laid his forehead against the steering wheel, shoulders shaking quietly.

After a few moments, he composed himself, again wiping the tears away from his face. He shoved the key into the ignition and revved the Jeep up, put it into drive and eased onto the road, following it down to Pikes Peak Avenue.

He didn't notice the blue Cavalier trailing down the road behind him.

From the Watcher's Field Report, dated 01/01/99

He visited her grave today, on the first anniversary of her death. With the exception of hunting down Colleen Cook's murderer, he has shown absolutely no interest in the Game.

It is the opinion of this Watcher that if he does not stop mourning for Cook, then Hank Lawson will not survive the Game much longer.....

FINIS

Author's Note: Obviously, I made a few things up for the story. To the best of my knowledge, there is no First Church Cemetery in Colorado Springs off of Pikes Peak Avenue. (Pikes Peak Avenue, however, is real.)

I hope you enjoyed it--I do plan to write more about Colleen and Hank's lives as Immortals. Please send me feedback--even suggestions. If I use them, I'll be more than happy to give you credit for it. :-)

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