Disclaimers: Darius, Duncan, Amanda, Felicia, Kenny and the idea of the Immortals are regretfully not mine. Brianna, Marcus, Wendy, Dominic, Anastasia, Daria, Becca, Benji, the Cousins and the Blessing family are.
New York, 2043
Anastasia Bryce opened the box and started sorting things onto her desk. It was her first day of work at Bolt Industries, and she was at the low end of the totem pole in Mergers and Acquisitions. However, she was sure that that would change soon. She was only a few years out of school, and she was sure that hard work would take her career to the top in a few years.
As she debated where to put the picture of her brothers, a head poked into her cubicle. "Mind if I say hello?"
The head belonged to a man who was very handsome and dressed to kill. His hair was black and slicked back fashionably, and his eyes smiled warmly. "Please do," she replied. Privately she wondered if he was as sweet as he was handsome, and if he was taken. "I'm Anastasia Bryce."
"Harry Sugar," he responded. "Careful, they like fresh meat to hit the ground running. You're going to get a lot on your plate."
"Pleased to meet you, Harry," she asked, "Are you in Mergers too?"
"For the past five years," he responded. "Listen, I thought I should warn you, since none of the girls will. Don't try using your looks to get ahead; Bolt fires women like that. Men too, actually."
"Well, that's certainly a conversation starter," she commented in surprise. She thought to herself that it was so strange that she should hear this put so frankly that it was probable he didn't want women who were behind him getting ahead by using advantages he couldn't. Not that she was into that kind of game, but it ticked her off that Harry would prefer lying to her rather than seeing her get ahead.
"I'm serious. The guy's a little eccentric, I wouldn't try it if I were you. Anyway, do you want to go out for coffee on our lunch break?"
"You do work fast," she responded, not at all offended. "I'd love to, but I'm supposed to go in for a meeting with Mr. Bolt today. How's your schedule tomorrow?"
"Sounds great." he responded. "Good luck in the lion's den." He left her to her unpacking.
Several hours later, after working so hard on the folders she was assigned to that she almost lost track of the time, Anastasia was standing in front of Mr. Bolt's office, allowing the secretary to let her into the office. She appraised both the office and her employer carefully, trying to make an assessment of his character and how best to approach him. Mr. Bolt sat behind a high, broad desk of fine wood. The room was tastefully, almost regally decorated, with odd antiques from around the world. Bolt himself was an overweight man in his fifties or older, it was hard to tell. His salt-and-pepper hair was combed back but not slick, his suit was finely pressed Armani. His face was that of a man used to clinging to power tightly, and catching small clues from the way he was sitting, Anastasia could tell why. There was no way Bolt cleared five feet; both the desk and the chair behind it were constructed to give him the height that nature had neglected to bestow.
"Ah, Ms. Bryce," he greeted her, "I trust you are finding your first day no harder than you had expected."
"I'm managing just fine, sir," she replied smoothly, with a smile.
"Excellent," he said, "I make it a point to get to know new employees, make it clear they can approach me with ideas and problems."
"Thank you, sir," she responded, though she was quite sure he was someone she would never want to come to with a problem. However, she was curious about Harry's story, and wondered whether, if she phrased it correctly, she could get the truth of the story. "Sir, I thought you should know, there's a rumor floating around the office about you."
"I can probably guess which one it is," he said, "It's quite true. If you are expecting to make it in this business by sleeping with either me or one of my subordinates, I will fire you on the spot. I pay my employees much more than a hooker's wages; I expect them to act as highly-trained employees and do the work they're trained for. I've fired people in the past for it, and I don't make exceptions. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Not at all, especially since it gives me a clue as to your policy on sexual harassment," she returned with a smile. "Thank you sir. I admire you for your policy, most businessmen I've met are not so scrupulous."
"Brown nosing already, are we?" he said icily, and Anastasia retreated, feeling more than a little stung by his comment.
That night in her apartment Anastasia looked in the mirror and thought about Harry. She was more than a little attractive in her own opinion, with thick brown hair that was usually caught up in a French twist. Her eyes were a rare, exotic violet, her skin was creamy. She kept in shape as much as was possible, since there was no time to go to the gym in a normal work week. There was no reason why a man like Harry Sugar wouldn't find her attractive. She had been approached many times in her young life, and though not by any standard promiscuous or undiscriminating, she had been around the block more than a few times.
She made herself a dinner of boxed macaroni and cheese and turned on the news, hoping that she could stretch out for a few minutes before she had to go to bed, she had an early morning to look forward to.
Although Bolt Industries was certainly getting its money's worth in terms of workload, Anastasia still found time to see Harry, and found herself growing more interested in him. He seemed like a perfectly nice man, as sweet as his last name implied. But one of the difficulties of working long hours in a corporation was that when they did see each other it was for short periods of time, no more than an hour or so, and nine times out of ten, they would plan to get together and a meeting would come up at the last moment.
One night Anastasia was pulling the second all-nighter in a row and feeling the effects of it. She stood up from her desk, rubbing her eyes blearily. She had been awake so long with only cat naps that she couldn't see the computer screen in front of her. It was about three in the morning, and she was stuck with a dilemma. She was so tired that if she didn't get some sleep she would break down; but likewise it was so late that she didn't feel safe taking public transportation home.
That was when she remembered something one of the secretaries had told her about Bolt's office. He had a room in back with a cot and a bathroom, so that if necessary he could live in his office for days. She also knew from this secretary that he didn't use it anymore, preferring to work 9-5 at the office unless there was a major crisis, and then take his work home with him.
She walked into the office and saw that the lights were off in the inner room. She knocked and opened the door, so tired that she forgot to leave enough response time for someone to answer.
"What are you doing here?!" she heard Bolt's voice in the dark. He sounded surprised and angry, and Anastasia was so flustered that she flipped on the lights without thinking. "GET OUT OF HERE!" he shrieked at her, shoving her physically out the door as she stumbled and ran out of the office and down the hall, not stopping until she was at the elevator.
Heart pounding, Anastasia clicked the elevator button repeatedly. She was tired; she could not have seen what she thought she saw. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. She was hallucinating from lack of sleep. There was no way that what she saw was real, that a little boy with disheveled blonde hair had been dressed like Mr. Bolt, and had talked to her in his voice.
The next morning, Anastasia was summoned to Bolt's office and found him sitting behind his desk. His face was hard and uncompromising. "Tell me what you think you saw last night," he demanded coldly.
"I thought I saw a child speaking in your voice, standing in your clothes," she answered, "but I was obviously mistaken."
Bolt looked at her with suspicion. "Oh really? And why do you think that?"
"Because, Mr. Bolt, it would conflict with too much that I already know about you. First and most obviously, that you've been in this business for over thirty years. Second, children don't have the acute business sense and the stamina to work long hours that I've seen you show many times. Third, I was running on two or three days of little or no sleep, and I was going in there to take a nap because I was starting to see things. Speaking of which, I'm sorry I trespassed into your office, I just wanted a place to rest for a couple of hours."
Bolt sat back and considered for a few long minutes, his hands steepled and his brow furrowed. "Come with me," he ordered her, and marched off to the room where she had surprised him last night. As she followed him, she was struck -- as she had been many times -- first by his height, which wasn't even five feet, and then by his bearing, which was militaristic, almost noble. When they arrived at the little room, he shut the door behind them. "Nothing you see here is to leave this room, understand?" he demanded. Anastasia nodded, too nervous to trust her voice. What was going on here?
Bolt raised his hands to his face and pulled. Anastasia thought she was going to be sick as his face first stretched, then ripped off, but she was overcome with surprise when she saw the face underneath. It was the boy she had encountered the night before. "Ms. Bryce," he addressed her in a boy's alto, "My real name is Dominic, I chose Bolt as a last name years ago. I am Immortal. I cannot age, I cannot die, and I have been this way for the last five hundred years." With that he drew a knife and slashed one wrist, holding it up to her face as it healed within instants, with little flickers of blue lightning.
By this time, Anastasia was completely in over her head, and she swallowed hard. "You've ... done very well for yourself in spite of that handicap, sir," she responded without really thinking, "and this explains your policy about sleeping your way to the top; since you wouldn't be able to hide what you were with your clothes off. How come you're frozen as a child?"
"My kind age normally until we die for the first time. Whatever age we were at when we died, that's where we stay. As you can see, not everyone is lucky enough to die between the ages of twenty and forty. And in case you're wondering, Immortals can't have children and can't pass on their abilities to anyone else. And I should warn you, in case you're thinking of it, that I can't be killed by bullets, gas, starvation, evisceration or high voltages of electricity, nor by drowning." He omitted the one way he could be killed, he thought it best not to give her any more advantage over him than she already had. He had told her about himself mostly to insure that she wouldn't, in ignorance, ask any of the other staff if they had seen him looking similarly young.
He also didn't tell her that last night after she left had been the worst night of his life; he had been terrified that she would go straight to the press and a lifetime of work and reputation and profit would be lost. He had contemplated suicide. He had also contemplated assassinating her if she tried anything; there were ways that would leave no trace. He didn't tell her that, however, because if it was at all possible to get her to cooperate willingly, he didn't want to compromise her good will by threatening her.
Anastasia looked at him and shook her head in disbelief. "I really don't know what to say."
"Now that I've given you this information, I want to know what you intend to do about it." Dominic's stomach was in knots wondering what her response would be.
Anastasia thought quietly. It wasn't like he was harming anyone by pretending to look older, and frankly she could understand that someone with his handicaps would have no other way to live independently, or stay in the same place without people wondering why he didn't get any older. "Nothing. You deserve to live your life, same as everyone else."
"With that attitude, you'd make a lousy businesswoman, not pressing your advantage where you see weakness." he tested.
"But I'd make a great human being and a loyal employee," she replied.
Dominic watched her, tried to deduce from her eyes, her posture, her tone, if she was telling the truth. It was difficult because she was shaken badly by what she had just seen. He supposed only time would tell, but it was a devil of a chance he was taking, letting her live. "We have work to do," he reminded her, and he took out some special glue and reapplied his mask and wig. Then the two of them walked out of the office as though nothing had happened.
Over the next few weeks, Dominic was surprised that, as far as he could tell, Anastasia had not told his secret to another living soul. He was impressed with her. He left the fact that she was a woman out of the equation, there was no reason to walk that road again. Despite all he had done and the advantages he now enjoyed, women were still out of reach for him. He could not trust a woman to keep his secret, and any woman who wanted to have sex with someone who looked like a ten-year-old boy was most certainly not someone he should be getting involved with. At least he no longer hated women for it. And perhaps some day he'd meet another child Immortal, a woman who could understand his position exactly. That was more and more likely, since most child Immortals had by now partaken of the same training he had, both in how to defend themselves and how to impersonate adults perfectly. There were very few child Immortals left who hadn't gained some emotional maturity from that training.
He was amazed at how far he had come in forty-seven years. Before then, he would have killed Anastasia viciously and outright rather than chance her having power over him. Hell, before then he wouldn't have been in this position in the first place.
Dominic found himself wanting companionship, wanting someone to talk to. His teacher and his friends were all miles away, and he had no one he could confide in. So one day he approached Anastasia's desk, hoping to ask her in for a lunch meeting, so that they could talk. As he approached, however, he heard her talking to Harry Sugar. From the tone of the conversation, it was obvious they got along very well.
Dominic clenched his fists and stayed out of sight. It figured that Anastasia would be attracted to Harry. Who wouldn't be? He was a man, after all, not a boy with a man's mind and a two inch pecker. He felt a surge of jealousy, but fought it down as best he could. Why was he angry, after all? He knew a relationship with her was impossible, should he expect her to keep herself chaste? But for about the thousandth time, he wished he had a body like Harry's or his teacher's teacher, Duncan Macleod.
It was funny, child Immortals didn't have hormones in the same way adult Immortals did. They were mentally old enough to grasp the concept of sex and want it because it was tantalizingly out of reach forever, but their bodies didn't crave release the way an adult was. His teacher had joked to him that someday, when Immortals were common knowledge, she could make a lot of money by writing a book on the mental and physiological differences between child Immortals and everyone else in the world.
But Harry was gone now, back to his own desk, and quite frankly Dom needed the company. He walked over to Anastasia's desk and asked, "Ms. Bryce? Could I see you in my office?"
Once back in the office with lunch spread out before them, Dom sat down in the chair beside Anastasia. After all, there was no use sitting in a chair which would increase his height when she knew exactly what he was.
"Why did you ask me to see you, sir?" she asked.
"No particular reason," he responded, "I just thought we might get better aquatinted. It's so rare that I tell anyone my secret that I don't have many friends outside my own kind." He sipped at his tea and took a bite of his sandwich. "Where did you grow up?" he asked casually.
"In Boston, well, actually in Newton," she began. They talked for hours. Anastasia had never met someone who listened so intently to small details of her life and childhood. Most people listened casually unless you told them something unusual, but Bolt listened with as much fascination as though she were telling him that she had been raised in Tibet.
Then again, it might seem that way to him, she considered. He probably hadn't had much of a childhood. History had never been her strong point; she couldn't even imagine what his childhood five hundred years ago had been like. She was equally surprised that he seemed to have delegated both their workloads to other people for the day, because no appointments, meetings, or stacks of paper interrupted the conversation. Knowing how he lived by the phrase 'time is money', Anastasia realized how much this conversation must mean to him, to have some form of honest human contact. How lonely he must be, she thought.
As she rose to leave, he touched her hand. She was struck by two things in that moment: first, that she had never seen him touch anyone except for a quick, firm handshake if absolutely necessary for politeness. Second, that his hands looked like a man's, not like a boy's. She wondered what make-up made that possible. "I would very much enjoy seeing you again, just to talk," he told her, "but I don't want you to think you have to in order to keep your job. If you would like to see me again, leave a message on my voice mail and I'll arrange something."
Something out of the office, she read into that, understanding that he didn't want to give her coworkers the impression that he was giving Anastasia special favors. "Thank you, Mr. Bolt," she responded.
"Please, Dominic." he pressed gently.
"Dominic, then." she agreed with a slight smile.
They could not meet often; they each had a tremendous workload, and Anastasia was now sleeping with Harry. If Dom know about that little detail of her personal life, he gave no sign. He never asked her about him, and she had the feeling it was best not to mention Harry in Dom's presence. But every Sunday night, Anastasia would go to Dominic's penthouse and talk with him until very early in the morning. He revealed very little about his past, but he never seemed to run out of questions to ask her about herself, or amusing stories to tell.
However, whenever she went over there he was always dressed as his older persona, and when he saw it was her at the door, he would invite her in and go change. A few minutes later he would emerge, looking like a young, slightly muscled boy dressed in jeans and a long tee shirt with bare feet. At one point she asked him what happened to his girth, he showed her the body suit he wore every day to the office that gave him an older man's figure. He never did explain how he managed to make his hands look older and bigger.
Dom's younger persona was slender and graceful, with shaggy blonde hair that always got in his eyes. His eyes were black -- she had never seen anyone with truly black eyes before -- and they always showed extreme age and sadness. He never laughed out loud, but now and then he would chuckle almost inaudibly at something she said or did, and then his whole face would light up. It grew confusing for her, because he was so very un-childlike, and so much not an adult, at least as she was used to defining the word. He was a better listener than most people she knew, and seemed emotionally more mature than most guys her own age, despite his appearance.
One night she decided to broach the subject of his past. "So what was it like, growing up five centuries ago?" The question was awkward and blunt, but so were most of the questions she asked him. She never knew quite how to approach him on a personal level.
Dom shrugged. "Well, I don't know exactly when I was born. Most Immortals don't. We're all foundlings, you see; at best we're adopted. Back in the fifteenth century, there weren't many options for abandoned babies. I ended up in the church. The brothers raised me and taught me to read and write, and they set me to small tasks to see where I had proficiency."
He stretched out in his chair, putting feet up. "Understand, I was only a small child, but I already knew the way the church worked. Only one child in a noble house can inherit, the others are left with no profession. So they ascend to high positions in the church. Poorer brothers may be more pious and wise, but their families cannot give expensive gifts of appreciation to the church. I always knew I had little future there, but I thought if God was watching out for me, I would do all right. After all, I had nowhere else to go.
"I died at age ten; I fell from a roof I was thatching onto a pitchfork. The brothers declared me a servant of the devil and tortured me to see if I would confess and be purged. Instead, I learned that I could heal very quickly, but that didn't stop me from feeling pain." He saw her concern, but continued his tale. "They burned me at the stake, finally. I don't think I have ever experienced anything quite as painful, especially the way it was done in the Medieval period. They soaked you with water and put wet wool over your heart to prevent you from dying before your flesh had burnt sufficiently.
"It took a long time until I awoke and saw my flesh reconstruct itself before my eyes. The only things that took more than a week to grow back were my hair and nails, though I've become much faster at healing since then. I was sheltered by an Immortal who had passed by the church and seen my burning. He dug up my grave and took me home, trained me and explained the rules that govern Immortals." Dom had not told her about these or the Game yet, but now seemed like the proper time.
"We Immortals are supposed to kill each other until only one of us is left, and he gains the Prize: power over all humanity. I knew I was an easy target for my teacher, and he didn't teach me how to defend myself. I killed him while he slept one night, and justified it as a preemptive strike." He watched her face turn pale with horror, but he needed to tell her this, to make a clean breast of things. "I lived like that for centuries, playing the part of the newly-awakened child Immortal to win my way into people's confidences, because I needed a protector, and killing them when my paranoia took over. I killed mortal women as well, I hated the fact that I would never, ever be able to take a woman as a man should.
"Almost fifty years ago, I met up with an Immortal woman who taught me how to defend myself and look and act like an adult. I'm living out one full lifetime as Dominic Bolt, learning everything I can about being human, and then I'll fake my death and move on." He waited for her reaction.
"Do you still ... kill people?" she asked, swallowing hard and trying to figure out the best way to run to the door.
"Only Immortals, and only when challenged to fair combat. I can't give that up unless I want to commit suicide. But I don't hate women any more; if I did, I never would have made friends with you. And I don't kill by treachery either. I'm trying to remake myself, become someone who is self-reliant and good in a way I could never be before." He looked at her pleadingly. "I would never hurt you, Anastasia, not even if you made me angry. I swear."
"How do I know for sure?" she whispered.
Dom drew a sword from God-knows-where and handed it to her, kneeling at her feet. "The only way to kill an Immortal is by beheading them, completely separating their head from their body. If you feel I deserve to die, kill me now. If I ever threaten you in the future, you know how I can be killed. Just shoot me to slow me down and then take my head. I deserve to die for what I've done in the past, I know that. I'm just trying to do penance for it now."
Anastasia looked at him kneeling there, his throat exposed, and decided to test his resolve. "I'm sleeping with Harry Sugar."
Dominic visibly winced, but did not otherwise move. "I know," he answered in a strangled voice. "I've known since that first day I asked you to lunch. I don't own you; what you and he do your business." The effort to keep his voice level taxed him so much that she could see it. "But it's times like these when I wish to God that I looked like a man, so you wouldn't even think of anyone else but me."
Anastasia lowered the sword and gently touched Dom's cheek. He pulled away slightly. It was too tantalizing to have her touch him so tenderly and know that she would never follow that touch to its conclusion. But she offered him her hand, and he rose to his feet. "I trust you," she said simply, "whatever you did before is in the past as far as I'm concerned."
And for that moment, it seemed to Dom that anything was possible.
Anastasia had a lot to think about in the following week. Primarily she thought about her relationship with Dominic. He was a very strange and complex individual, and the facets of himself he had let her see the Sunday before were terrifying. He had killed. He had slaughtered innocent women just because they were adult and female, and he had assassinated others of his own kind, whether justified or not. He admitted to her that he still killed, even though killing someone in fair combat was apparently a different category for him. She had only his word that he would not turn his deadly skills on her, no matter how much she trusted his word and wanted to believe he was as true and honorable and kind as she had seemed for all these months.
Just as importantly, she had heard the hunger and restrained emotion in his voice when he had confessed to wanting her. She wondered, if he had died at an older age, if he had the body of an adult to go with his mind and his soul, if she would still have chosen Harry Sugar over him. As things currently stood, she couldn't bring herself to think of Dom in that way, she had no taste for pedophilia. No matter how developed Dom's mind was, she reacted to him physically as she would react to one of her brothers: friendly, casually, and completely without sexual tension.
Harry walked up then and leaned on the wall of her cubicle. Things had been tense between the two of them lately. Anastasia had been promoted once already in the time she had been here for her instrumental work in acquiring the Tyler Company. It was likely she would be promoted again at least once before this time next year; she was putting in a titanic amount of work and it was paying off. Harry, she was beginning to notice, did not like the threat she posed to his own, slower move up the corporate ladder. "Are we still on for tomorrow night?" he inquired.
"Hang on," she replied, and looked at her calendar. "Yes, as long as the department meeting ends on time. But since we're both in that meeting, at least one of us won't be waiting around for the other." She smiled at him and he kissed her, then went back to work.
The rest of the day was spent working on endless papers, folders and accounts, trying to make sense of the kaleidoscope of information the business world had to offer in the course of a normal day. Tomorrow night, however, was sacrosanct, and she had shifted several duties around to keep it that way. Tomorrow was her birthday, and Harry was taking her out to dinner at one of the most expensive and popular restaurants in the city.
The next day there were meetings all day, and by the time Harry drove her home to change, Anastasia was bone tired. She opened the door to her apartment and stopped short, then turned around to smile at Harry. "Harry, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me!"
Harry frowned and looked past her into the room, which was filled with vases of tiger lilies and heather, both favorites of Anastasia's. "I didn't do it," he responded, looking around suspiciously.
"Well if you didn't do it, who did? You're the only one besides me with a key to the apartment."
"Maybe you have a stalker," Harry responded worriedly, "Sweetie, maybe you should move in with me for a few days. I'll call the police."
Anastasia looked around the room, searching for any sign of who did this. Then she saw a card. She picked it up and read it to herself. I thought these might cheer you up on your birthday, since I can't be there with you. May you celebrate many more birthdays with health and happiness, love D. It was written in flowing script on parchment colored paper.
Harry looked over her shoulder. "Who's D?" he asked suspiciously.
"David, my brother," she answered without missing a beat, pocketing the note. "I have to go change."
"That's not something a brother does for his sister, at least not any brother I know," he responded angrily. "You're seeing someone on the side, aren't you? Jesus Christ, woman, did you think I wouldn't find out?"
"Harry, listen to yourself for one moment. Do I even have time to meet someone with the kind of schedule I keep? How could I possibly be having an affair?"
"You conniving little bitch!" Harry shouted, "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you! Who is it, Daniel Michaels? Armin Davidson?"
"If you're going to be like that, then I think it's best if you leave," she answered coldly, "I'm not having an affair. If you don't trust me, then maybe we shouldn't be seeing each other."
"Bitch," he spat out one more time as he slammed the door behind him.
Anastasia picked up the phone and dialed Bolt's office, where she figured he would be still. "I hope you're satisfied," she spat at him, "because it's your fault Harry thinks I'm having an affair."
There was silence on the other end of the line for a long moment. Then, "I can't honestly say I'm sorry, but it wasn't my intention. I just thought I'd give you something nice for your birthday. I've never given anyone a birthday present before, I wasn't sure quite how to go about it."
"Let me give you a hint, breaking into my apartment was not a good way to do it. How the hell did you do that, anyway?"
"You don't live for five centuries on your own without learning to pick locks and pockets extremely well. And deadbolts aren't hard with the right equipment."
Anastasia slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor with the phone clutched in one hand and her head in the other. "Christ, there are times when I really don't know what to make of you," she answered, then belatedly realized she had hurt his feelings deeply. "It was a really sweet gesture, though. If Harry hadn't been there I would have called you up and told you how lovely a surprise it was." She sighed. "Just give me some time to sort things out with Harry." She hung up without saying good-bye.
By next Sunday night relations with Harry were no closer to being repaired, though Anastasia kept valiantly trying to prove her innocence. She arrived at Dominic's penthouse in a foul mood. "Pour me a vodka, straight," she said as she entered, "I really need it after the week I've had."
Dom poured her a drink and sat down behind her, massaging the muscles in her neck without being asked. Sometimes he could pick up subtle clues and give her exactly what she needed, and other times he had blind spots wider than anyone she had ever seen. Anastasia felt her body beginning to unclench under his tender mercies, and gently leaned into him as he released the hard knots in her shoulders. "I'm always amazed at how strong and sensitive your hands are," she commented absently.
"Years of working out with swords does that to you," he answered lightly as he moved his fingers below her shoulder blades and smiled at her groan of pleasure.
"I still hate you, you know," she informed him in a mumble. "Ooo, right there. Oh yeah."
"Of course you do," Dom replied, his hands kneading her softly. Then, almost by instinct, he planted a kiss on the back of her neck. As soon as he had done it he froze, and felt her tense under him for a moment. She didn't move, and Dom couldn't help but risk pushing it further, even if it damned him forever. He very gently, very delicately touched her hair, stroking it softly and removing the pin that held it captive, letting it fall gently over her back, moving in to catch its scent, though his stomach was in knots.
Anastasia was so tense that she couldn't move, though her heart hammered in her chest. "Jesus," she gasped, her mind whirling in fragments. If she made him stop so she would have a moment to think, she was sure he would never risk this again. And although it went against every principle she had, both about her sexuality and her professional life, she didn't particularly want him to stop.
"He's dead, as far as I know," Dom replied, trying to make light of her expletive and figure out what she meant by it. This was already more than he had ever expected or even dreamed possible with a woman, he was waiting for her to slap his hand away and tell him that he was a boy, he shouldn't be doing that. But she didn't, and he delicately kissed the base of her neck as an experiment and felt her shiver slightly in response. He nibbled at the skin a little and swallowed hard when she leaned further into his body. "Um, Anastasia?" his voice was barely a squeak.
Anastasia turned around to look at him, her expression confused but sympathetic. "This is wrong," she stated, "and it goes against every boundary of decency--"
"Not to mention professional standards," Dom finished weakly, standing up. "I understand. I'm sorry, I--"
Anastasia gently took his hand and smiled. "I didn't say stop," she said, looking into his eyes, "just take things slow."
After what had happened, Anastasia gave up trying to get Harry back. He had given her no indication he wanted the continue the relationship, and more importantly it would have hurt Dominic deeply. Relations with Dominic were, to say the least, complicated and fascinating both emotionally and sexually. He allowed himself to be so vulnerable with her, and took nothing for granted. Time and again she had seen the look of amazement in his eyes that he was really with her, that she loved him, that she let him touch her. There were still things she couldn't bring herself to do, even with her eyes closed. He looked too much like a child for her to have sex with him. But in many ways he was the most loving, attentive, the most *adult* man she had ever been with.
Life after that, at least at the office, went on exactly as before. Dominic had an almost uncanny ability to change his whole personality when he was dressed as his older persona. She was in love with Dominic, she worked for Mr. Bolt, and never the twain shall meet. Anastasia found it easy not to give away any signs of their relationship when Mr. Bolt treated her exactly as any other employee of her standing. Her work was evaluated for its own sake, and she found him both fair and uncompromising in his estimation of her abilities.
At one point she asked him how he did it, how he could manage to split himself into two people and never let his double life overlap. "It's the only way I know how to do it," he replied, "If I was just putting on a mask, I would get caught. But since I use self-hypnosis and acting and voice training, when the mask goes on, I am Dominic Bolt, in all the ways that count."
Anastasia thought she was doing a good job of handling the confusing and frightening aspects of Dom's personality. But like Pandora, she wanted to push the envelope, see the forbidden. She wanted to see Dominic kill another Immortal. She wanted to understand that side of him and assure herself that even if he killed, he would never turn his abilities on her. So far, Dominic had been obstinate in his decision that such matters were not appropriate for her to see, and besides these fights were often spur of the moment. "I'm not going to pick a fight and kill someone so you can watch," he told her bluntly, "and frankly I wouldn't want you in the line of fire if I could help it. Besides, the only times we're together are at my apartment or in the office. It's unlikely I'll be challenged in either place."
One of the difficulties of their relationship was that if they went out as themselves, it looked like Anastasia was baby-sitting, but if Dominic put on his mask, people might spread rumors. He wasn't exactly inconspicuous, nor was he unknown. So they simply didn't go out together, at least not in the city. It was true, what he said. They were only together in his apartment or the office, possibly the two safest places they could be.
Kenny showed up in the middle of February. Anastasia saw a child whose eyes and angry bearing belied his supposed age. He was maybe ten years old, with shaggy blond hair, and looked enough like Dom to be his brother. The not-child walked straight into Dom's office, despite the protests of the secretary, and Anastasia quickly rose and followed, intensely curious.
Dom looked up when he felt the Buzz. "Ah, Kenny," he greeted his counterpart uneasily, "inconspicuous as always." He was using his baritone still, the older voice that marked him as businessman, not Immortal. Kenny turned when he felt the door open behind him again. "Anastasia," Dom introduced, "this is Kenny. Ken, she knows about our kind, no need to be shy."
"You're his woman?" Kenny said in such a crude tone that Anastasia felt like slapping him. She sincerely hoped this wasn't a friend of Dom's.
"I really don't think that's any of your business," she replied coldly.
Kenny gave a derisive snort. "Figures. Dom, ditch the bitch if she's not putting out, she's just using you to get promotions."
Dom's face couldn't turn colors under his mask, but Anastasia had a feeling that if she could see it, his true face would be purple with rage. "Ken, I have limits, and you're dangerously close to crossing them." He sat back in his chair. "Now what did you come here for?"
"A job, actually. I thought I'd cash in my family dues from you and get a slice of the pie you seem to have made for yourself."
"You want it?" Dom asked. "Fine. Earn it. The hard way."
"Fuck you," Kenny spat, "I'm not going to school with toddlers for twelve years. You know I'm capable of doing the job now."
"I also know you're about as mentally balanced as an elephant on a trapeze. The rest of us all did this the hard way, why can't you? You have eternity; you can spare twelve years. Bria would be happy to take you in again and train you properly."
"I don't need her and her stupid mind games, especially not when she can pry into my brain whenever she likes. Now are you going to help me?" Kenny glared at him, but Dom did not respond. "Fine. We'll do it the hard way." He stalked out.
Anastasia walked him leave, then turned back to Dom. "What was that all about?"
"All of us child Immortals have the same teacher, and she makes the same rules for all of us. Live out one full life, from the age of your original death to about age seventy. Once you've done that, you know how to play the part of an adult, because you've gone through the process of puberty and aging, or at least acted them out. This is still my first life, and I was her first student, so all of us are still working out our first lives except Kenny."
Anastasia looked at him and touched his face gently. "There's something you're not telling me. You were really worried back there, even I could see it."
Dom closed his eyes for a moment in pain. "Kenny scares me because I'm still not that far away from what he is. I used to be just as beastly. I already know what he is, so he's not bothering to be manipulative, but I'll warn you now that he's a sneaky little bastard. Our teacher tried to help him, but he ended up trying to kill her on holy ground. None of us break that rule, so she kicked him out. He's itching for a fight, and knowing him it's not going to be a fair one. He might try and use you as leverage to get me to surrender, so you're going to have to stay at the office until this is over. I'll stay with you; I'm not letting him get his hands on you."
Anastasia frowned. "Dom, that could take months, years! I'm not hiding in your office that long!"
Dom touched her fingertips lightly and switched to his child's alto. "Anastasia, I know that someday I'm going to have to bury you, but I would much rather it be years from now, of old age, with lots of happy memories between then and now."
Anastasia closed her eyes and shivered, it always gave her the creeps when Dom switched personalities without warning. "Just ... finish it quickly." She turned and hurried back to her cubicle before her absence aroused suspicion.
That night Anastasia waited until everyone had gone, then made her way to the inner room where she had first discovered Dom's secret. He had his sword out and leaning against a wall in the room, and he was dressed as his younger persona. "There's one good part of this," he teased her gently, "we get to be together every night." He motioned for her to sit down and he kissed her urgently, trying to forget his own fears. "I'd die if I lost you," he breathed into her hair, holding her close as if to reassure himself that she was real.
"I love you," she whispered back, kissing his jaw line in the way she knew he liked. She slid her nails up the underside of his arm and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. His skin was so sensitive, the slightest touch in the right way could bring a response. He, in turn, was so fascinated by her that he would sometimes spend the whole night just playing with one arm, nibbling her fingertips until she thought she would burst.
The two of them spent a long time simply kissing and touching each other before they decided to sleep, curled up in each other's arms. They slept through until morning and rose before anyone came into the office, dressing and leaving as if nothing had happened.
After three weeks with no further signs of Kenny, Anastasia was getting more than a little sick of living at the office and not going home at all. She wanted to sleep in her own bed and watch television at night, and though she loved Dom dearly, sleeping with him on a small cot meant for one person was not very comfortable, despite his small stature. Despite Dom's protests, she went home and curled up with a mug of cocoa on her couch after work the next day, letting herself forget that Immortals existed, and that there was someone out there who might decide to kill her.
Slowly, uneasily, life went back to normal. Anastasia saw Dom a few nights a week, and went to work as usual, but she didn't sleep in the office. This proved to be a mistake.
Anastasia was walking from the garage to the elevator when a kick to the back of her legs brought her to the ground. Then a blade pressed against her throat. "Scream and I swear I'll kill you," Kenny threatened in a hiss, pulling her out of the line of visibility ion the garage, so no one would interfere. "You got in my way, I hate people who get in my way. First you and then Dom, nice and quick." Suddenly he lifted his head, his eyes searching for something Anastasia couldn't sense.
Dom stepped out of the shadows, sword in hand. "Get away from her," he demanded flatly.
"I don't think so," Kenny replied calmly, "why should I give her a chance to get away, or to sneak up on me while we're fighting? I'm not stupid."
Dom's left hand moved almost instantaneously and there was a loud crack as Kenny jerked backwards and Anastasia took the opportunity to launch herself towards Dom. Dom shoved his gun back in his jeans turned to Anastasia. "Get out of here now, I don't have time to argue!"
Kenny was already rushing Dom, and the mortal woman was ignored. The battle moved at a fast pace, both opponents clearly unused to fighting someone their own size, and having to compensate for it by changing their style. Kenny was a fierce fighter with a vicious style, but Dom had two advantages: more training and a rapier which gave him longer reach than Kenny's dirk. But Anastasia nearly screamed when she saw Kenny's blade slice deep into Dom's vitals and spill out the contents. Dom staggered and fell to his knees, watching his opponent raise his blade high above his head. Then without warning he whipped one hand upward in a last moment of titanic strength, severing Kenny's head.
Lightning swirled around the garage floor and blue mist encircled Dom's body, flowing from Kenny's. Dom jerked back as lightning struck his body again and again, and the uncanny howling of the Quickening made Anastasia more afraid than the battle had. Finally Dom fell to his knees, his back to her, his body still jerking and quivering as though he had just been strapped to the electric chair, or had an orgasm of titanic proportions.
Anastasia ran to his side, looking at his glazed eyes and slumped shoulders with concern. Then she realized that the vitals which had been spilt on the ground were now back where they belonged, and there was not even a scar to mark what had happened. "He was going to kill me and try to take over my life, use the masks for himself," Dom murmured, "he would have killed you because you knew too much." He rose to his feet. "We need to get the body out of here before morning. I hope all these people have car insurance."
Anastasia stood and looked at the headless corpse on the ground, the head lying a few feet away, still twisted in anger. "How did you get here so fast?" she asked numbly.
"I've been following you ever since you first started going home again, I knew he'd do something like this, I just didn't know when and where. I love you, I couldn't stand losing you."
Anastasia weight her options and decided that throwing up was not a good idea, though it took a few long minutes to convince her body of that. "What sort of person are you?" she whispered, looking at Dom in desperate confusion.
"I'm the same person I was. I told you all of this a long time ago, you said it didn't matter."
"It matters now."
It took three hours to dispose of the corpse, removing all identifying articles and fingerprints. Then Dom returned with her to the office. It was just about sunrise, they'd have to be there in a few hours anyway. Dom touched Anastasia, he was tired and wanted to hold her. She jerked away, almost instinctively, and was reproached by his sorrowful eyes.
"I know," she replied to his mute protest, "I asked for it. But I didn't think it would be like this. I've never even seen a dead man before, let alone watched someone commit murder. I need to figure this out." She rushed her steps a little so they were no longer walking in synch, and reached her desk, wondering how the hell she would get home tonight with her car battery still in shock. But she paused for a moment as Dom walked by, defeated. She just didn't know what to say to him.
There was a long period when they didn't talk at all, when they both did their work and pretended they had never had any sort of relationship. But finally Anastasia walked into Dom's office and shut the door, needing to talk. "I can't forget what happened, I see it every time I close my eyes. I can't ask you to swear never to do it again, because you have to stay alive. And I can't even say that I think what you did was monstrous, because I'm very glad it's Kenny who ended up in the morgue that night and not me." She swallowed. "No apologies, no justifications. I love you, and nothing in this relationship is healthy or normal, we'll just have to burn the bridges when we get to them."
Dom swallowed hard, and she could see his identity flickering and shattering behind the mask he wore. "I love you too," he said, and for now it was enough.
Dominic closed the folder with a sigh. "And that's the last of it. Do you have everything packed?"
"I'm all ready to go," Anastasia replied. Dom had been talking about this trip for months, he would probably have strangled her if she had needed to delay. She had never seen him as tense and excited as he was now, and with good reason. He was taking Anastasia home to meet the family.
Anastasia's own family knew she was dating her employer, and had warned her not to get involved with someone when there was a power issue. But they didn't know Dom at all, and had never met him, it would be too complicated trying to explain the truth to them. Dom's family, by comparison, was a thousand times easier. She just hoped they were saner than Kenny had been, since he was the only Immortal besides Dom that she had met.
The weather was warm and pleasant as they drove down the highway, and Anastasia relaxed at the wheel. Dom had decided to bring none of his masks or suits with him, which meant that as the only physical adult, Anastasia had to do all the driving. She didn't mind though, in the state Dom was in she wouldn't have trusted him at the wheel anyway.
It was several hours drive to Maine, and several more through twisted side roads to the coastal town that bordered Hope Island. Then they had to wait for the ferryman to take them across. Waiting for them at the pier was a young woman, no more than fifteen, with a cap of black hair framing a pixie face and enormous green eyes. She clasped Dom in a bear hug the moment the boat landed, hauling him onto the pier. "God above, but I missed you Dom," she said. Then she looked Anastasia over, and Anastasia felt like a trinket on sale, looked over by a professional collector and found wanting. "Are these all your things?" she inquired, grabbing hold of two bags and making her way back up the path. "The others decided on an impromptu training match while they were waiting for you, you probably want to join in for old times sake." She paused a moment as she got a better grip on one bag. "You know I don't usually meddle with your things, but I thought you might have forgotten what your room looks like. I took the posters down. They're in your closet."
"Thanks Bria," Dom responded, and from the angle she was at, Anastasia could see that the back of his neck was bright red. As they approached the house Anastasia heard the clashing of metal, and suddenly the sight burst out from behind the trees. Five Immortals whirling and spinning with swords in hands, none of them physically adult, all of them obviously adept in the arts of war. They all sheathed their weapons and came running and screaming like barbarians the instant they saw Dom, crowding around him with hugs and hard thumps on the back. And again Anastasia felt eyes on her, watching her, measuring her and regarding her with suspicion.
"This is Anastasia Bryce," Dom informed them, "Anastasia, this is my teacher, Brianna," the black haired pixie nodded confirmation; "Heather, next oldest," a red-headed girl roughly the same age and height as Dom smiled awkwardly; "Julian's over there in the blue tee-shirt, Patrick is the one with the braids, Carlos is the darkie on the left, and Gareth's the latest victim of Bria's most tender mercies." They all laughed nervously at that; Anastasia had the feeling that they had no idea how to act in front of a mortal adult when not playing a part.
"We should get settled in," Dom suggested to her. "Guys, I'll be down in an hour for some practice."
"Only an hour?" Man, you do work fast," Carlos teased, and the others laughed.
Dom grinned. "Hey, I don't want to exhaust her; she's got to last all two weeks that we're here! You know us Immortals with our eternal stamina." It was obviously an oft-repeated inside joke, but Anastasia didn't like being the butt of it.
Patrick clapped Dom hard on the back. "Oho, so you didn't need those extensions after all! Latex to make everything bigger but what's really important, that was always your style."
Dom grinned. "Ah, get your own woman," he shot over his shoulder as he walked to the house, which looked like a Tibetan monastery in miniature and exuded the same air of calm.
"I would, if I had half a chance of getting one like yours!" Pat yelled, then let the matter go.
Dom led Anastasia upstairs to his room, showing her in. She looked around, trying to get a sense of what Dom was like before she met him. The decor was black, with soft, ebony, cotton sheets on the queen-sized bed, an elaborate sound system against one wall, and a small shelf of books. Dom turned to her apologetically. "I'm sorry about that back there, I know you must have hated that. But the others see me as the success story, the one who made it as far as he wanted to go. It was incredible enough that I have my own corporation, they couldn't believe that I had actually started dating a mortal. They just wanted to poke fun so they could share it a little."
Anastasia nodded. "Just don't make it a habit," she said with a kiss.
Dom responded eagerly to the kiss, gently tracing his fingers through her thick hair, then pulled away. "I have to go downstairs, the others are waiting for me."
"Let them wait," Anastasia responded, fire in her eyes and in her smile.
That night they all sat around the table with full glasses of mead and plates stuffed with food. Brianna lit a candle in the center of the table and raised her glass. "Under the circumstances, since it is rarely more than once a year that we are all gathered together, I feel that I have much to be thankful for. I give thanks for the pleasure of being surrounded by my students, my kinsmen, my family. May we spend many more nights around this table before the Gathering with no plate missing." She took a long sip of her mead and sat down.
"I give thanks for love and loyalty," Dom called out as he raised his glass, "from lovers and from family. And I give thanks for promises kept and hopes fulfilled. May we always meet like this, around a table, not in a fighting alley." He took a long and thoughtful draught.
Patrick stood next. "I give thanks that another year has passed without death, that I can see my brothers and sister alive and happy." He took a drink.
"I give thanks for fine food and finer company," Carlos agreed, "and I also give thanks that I'm finally my own man, after three hundred years of living on charity." He drained his glass with a smile and poured himself another.
"I give thanks that all of us are whole in spirit and can sit together without fear, for even on holy ground, that is a rare thing for our kind." Heather spoke soft but true, delicately tasting her mead.
"I give thanks for the mead, since I made it myself," Julian informed them with a smile, "And I take even greater pleasure that such a fine company has first tasting rights to my vintages." He took a trained but blissful sip.
Gareth stayed quiet, and there didn't seem to be an expectation for anyone to give thanks if the spirit did not move them. Anastasia looked around and rose, unsure of herself. "I give thanks that I have finally met all of you, and I give thanks that I met Dominic, since my life has been greatly enriched by knowing him." She took a sip and found the mead to have a curious taste, like sherry with a honey scent.
They all set into the food, and though they ate politely, all the Immortals ate heartily. However, the food seemed to have been cooked for just such appetites, and there was more to spare. There was eggplant parmesan and bowls of pasta and sauce, a stack of potatoes, a slab of sourdough bread with a wedge of cheese next to it. There was a large fresh salad and a bowl of cooked greens, and there was more than enough mead. Julian leaned over to her and grinned. "I don't think you realize how powerful that is," he informed her with a wink, "Mead hangovers are worse than any other kind. You're lucky I didn't bring wassail!"
Anastasia grinned back. "Thanks for the warning. What do you do, anyway?"
"I'm the head chef in a Chicago restaurant called the Bull," he responded, "And you work for Dom?"
"That's right. I'm in Mergers and Acquisitions."
Julian's grin broke into a broad smile. "I won't even tackle that one with my filthy humor, though I'd suggest not telling it to Carlos. He's worse than I am."
"Warning noted with thanks," Anastasia answered. "Is it me, or does Brianna not like me?"
"She's very protective of us," he answered lightly, "she wants to make sure you're all right for Dom before she really welcomes you in. By the way, she also has excellent hearing."
Anastasia blushed bright red. Julian's smile faded into a look of longing. "Gods, but you're amazing. I've never met a mortal, and precious few Immortals either, who talk to me like I'm a man and not a boy. I wish there were another like you, so I could be as happy as Dom is. I've never seen him this happy."
"I'm sure you'll find someone if you use that sort of flattery on them," she teased gently, "and you have more than enough time to find her, Julian." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of pain in Heather's eyes as she watched them, and Anastasia wondered if Julian knew Heather was in love with him. Apparently not. "Tell me," she inquired, desiring to change the subject, "what do you all call each other? You're not children, you're not adults, what?"
Julian grinned. "We coined the term Cousins a while back. We're all cousins, kinsmen, regardless of age of shape."
After dinner had been cleared, the Immortals all got their swords and went out to the practice yard, fighting and hollering battle cries at the top of their lungs while Brianna and Anastasia sat on the porch. Anastasia winced as she saw Patrick's sword draw blood on Dom's chest, but Dom just fought back harder, with a grin. "How can they do that to each other?" she asked with a shudder.
"Because they love each other enough to teach each other the best way they know how," Brianna responded. "Anastasia, I heard about Kenny, so I won't bother to ask you if you think this all some romantic fantasy. And the fact that Dom's physically a child has probably caused you to think about the fact that not one hair on his head will change when you turn old and wrinkled. There's also the fact that he can never give you children, and his appearance means he would be loathe to adopt and have his own child hit puberty and grow up when he never will. So why?"
"Because I love him," Anastasia answered simply, "isn't that enough?"
"Why do you love him? Do you love the thought that he could never cheat on you, because no one else would have him? Do you love how he worships the ground you walk on? Or maybe you just get your kicks from fucking little boys."
Anastasia flushed scarlet with rage and embarrassment at the implications, wanting to slap Brianna's calm face for her awful words. "I can't believe Dom likes someone as monstrous as you," she growled.
"The question stands, mortal. Why?"
She was not going to reveal the depths of her soul to someone who seemed so callous and cold, but if she didn't, she might lose Dom. "He listens to me," she began simply, "not just when I'm upset; it's like he drinks in every detail of me. When I'm with him I feel so treasured, so wanted and loved. And I love him because he lets me in to where he's vulnerable, and no guy I know has ever done that before. Dom doesn't do it with anyone else I've met, which tells me how precious and how risky it is to him."
Brianna had been watching Anastasia's surface thoughts, which confirmed everything she said and more. Amazingly enough, this woman was all that she seemed to be. "Welcome to the family, Anastasia," Brianna murmured, and touched Anastasia's fingertips lightly with her own. It was the exact same contact that Dom had always used to convey extreme emotion and intimacy, and Anastasia couldn't help but react as warmly to Brianna as she would to Dom. "One more thing, Anastasia. He doesn't see you as a trophy wife, no matter what he says to the gang. They know the truth, and so should you."
Brianna picked up her katana and walked out onto the field, moving into the thick of combat. She parried aside the blades of her pupils and moved to her true quarry, Dom. The fighting stopped and Dom stood there with his teacher's blade just touching his throat. "I always told you that you were not a boy, but I also said I would not call you a man until you were one." She gently guided him to his knees and lightly touched the blade to each shoulder, as though knighting him. "Today I can call you a man, for you are more mature in spirit and actions than most who bear the name." She lifted him to his feet and caught him in a crushing embrace as the others stood there, stunned. Dom was the first student, of course, but none of them had ever achieved that title, and had thought Brianna simply wouldn't choose to give it out. Though the moment was one that might have been greeted with wild cheers, they chose respectful silence.
That night Anastasia left the Immortals to their nightly meditation and went upstairs to Dom's old bedroom. She opened the closet door and unrolled the posters, looking aghast at the images of women being tied up and tortured. She heard Dom coming in, but couldn't put the posters away in time. He saw what she was looking at and blushed. "I used to be a very different person," he explained, rolling them up and putting them back in the closet.
Anastasia nodded. "But you're not anymore, or I wouldn't love you." She smiled, "So, did I get the teacher's seal of approval?"
Dom nodded. "She likes you and trusts you. Give it time to grow. And my cousins like you too." He pulled off his shirt and pants and got into bed.
Anastasia undressed slowly, sliding under the covers and curling up next to Dom. "Going to sleep already?" she inquired archly.
Dom chuckled and reached for her. "I wouldn't dream of it, love."
End.