Life Everlasting

“I rather hope so.” He admitted, his tone making it obvious her location did have him worried. “Or at the least, she’s keeping out of trouble. That would be very nice, yes…” He seemed to be voicing some of his thoughts. 

The chanting got louder, the movements more aggressive. “Look at that.” He pointed it out to her. “See how the movements grow more primal? There’s real anger there. Not like a college protest. Say the wrong thing, and they’ll turn on you, regardless of what side your on.” His mouth opened slightly, letting out a breath. “I was at one of these once…I saw them beat a man to death.” He bit his lip, remembering how he’d tried to stop it. “Ironic thing. They spoke of ‘uplifting’ the poor man. Making things equal and fair for all. There was nothing fair about that fight.”  

He shivered slightly, not because of the cold, but because he remembered the bloodlust. The shouting grew even louder. “That’s a bad sign!” He called out, trying to be heard above the din. 

He bit his lip, “You’re able to experience the freedom to drink out of the same fountain as I do because of the extraordinary people that came before you! The people who believed non-violent protest was key, the people who bore up with a magnitude of injustice to prove a point, and eventually win.” He gestured with a hand back at the crowd. “Look around you Sasha. Do you see the same high ideals? What do you—” 

“To do what, precisely?” He asked. There was no sense in hiding his intentions; she already knew them. “Call in the cavalry? The big guns?” It didn’t take someone who had witnessed the horror of war to understand why such a reaction would be so foolish. 

He sighed, taking a moment to finish his own coffee. He needed his wits about him, but knew the coffee wouldn’t do him any good. It was a mere frivolity of a habit, clinging from the past just so he could have the excuse to gather his thoughts. Coffee after all, was for contemplation. “I admire your enthusiasm.” He said, directing his thoughts back to her. “But there will come a time when this little rebellion must fight. Only it is not now. You are not ready.” He shook his head. “A show of force only gives the government permission to all-out war. For that, you and the others must be ready.” 

He’d had some time to think about this, and honestly it seemed the best course of action. “But not now.” He repeated. “Now, is something I can do. Claire will be returned, and you and the others must prepare.”

“You know damn well what I mean, Henry. And maybe not go in guns blazing. There are people who can be covert. Invisible people, persuasive ones, and other abilities.” Shay replied, raising her brows at him. “There are other ways to go about this besides force like you keep thinking.”

“Look here now, I have just a little more experience with these people than you do --- and while I appreciate the enthusiasm we’re talking about people who make a living capturing people like you and me!” He seemed to realize he was allowing himself to get excited, and he took a breath to settle himself. “I know --- I can get her out.” He bit his lip, glance furtive as if he didn’t want to discuss what that might entail. 

“Claire — I!” He growled a little out of impatience, but balled up his fist as if summoning what he lacked in order to keep from shouting. A deep breath. “Really?” He looked at her incredulously, irritated despite attempting not to be. “At the time ‘help’ for the mentally insane was torture —”, Something about how he said the sentence was so venomous it would give anyone pause. “Electric Shock therapy. Starvation. Beatings. Lobotomies. W — water —.” He shook his head, deciding not to finish. “To name a very few. If on the off chance someone believed me, and that I wasn’t a threat myself, I’m sure that would have worked perfectly well.” 

The wind blew for a moment, and he seemed to gladly lose himself in it. “This world was going to burn Claire.” He said softly. “The methods — Barbaric. Unacceptable.” He swallowed. “They wouldn’t listen.”

He bit his lip, expression changing instantly to remorse when she spoke. The question seemed to pierce him far deeper than anything yet, but he managed to nod, as if he was forcing himself to accept whatever it might be she wanted. “I don’t know if you can…” He said, replying in honesty. “When we first met — I said there was a great deal you didn’t know about me. I’ve lived a long time — But I don’t want to live like that anymore.” He grimaced. “I’ve kept secrets for too long.”

She rolled her eyes and spun back around to glare at him. “Okay, I get that at the time, there weren’t options, but how long have they been locked up, Henry?! A few decades? Centuries? I’m sure that in the last 50 years there was an opportunity to get them real help. Especially after my jump and before the war started! Before you were taken! People knew then and could have actually helped, Henry!”

Another heavy sigh escaped her and she looked out over the water trying to calm herself down a little. “Maybe they were insane and trying to destroy the world, but what methods did you use to try convincing them it was a bad idea, huh?” Maybe he tried several things, maybe he tried one and then gave up. Claire didn’t know and part of her didn’t care. He’d done something almost unforgivable. 

“And you will have it ---,” He shook his head, stepping back from the railing himself. He had known this would end badly. Honesty was never an easy thing, and age didn’t seem to be making that any different. “Circumstances would have it no other way.”   

He bit his lip, watching her as she started to walk away. “Claire----I----,” He started, wanting to say something. Anything. But it now seemed wrong of him to say anything at all. He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Claire — they’re sick.” He took a hesitant breath, shaking his head. “They’re not themselves — It’s not their fault.” There was something almost youthfully naive in the way he defended them; perhaps some kind of blind loyalty. “I understand them.” His protests were emotional, based on no better fact than that he had known them. “What time does to the mind. Their — pain. I feel it too.” He had always felt other emotions, keenly. Far too keenly. “I won’t give up on them. It could have just as easily been me…” 

He looked as if he didn’t have an answer at first, before shaking his head. “I don’t know!” He admitted. “But I doubt killing them would have been better — you’d have been robbed all the same. And joining them? Your ancestors would have likely died. Robbing you of more than history and questions that none of us fools know the answer to anyway!” The last sentence betrayed some of the frustration he himself felt. 

“I—” For a moment he seemed unwilling to answer. He gave in with a frustrated sigh. “I admit — I grew suspicious of people like me after that. Margaret was the only one I knew of that didn’t want a hell on earth — She keeps to herself mostly. She doesn’t like people — Can’t blame her.” He held onto that thought for another moment, not wanting to admit to Claire. “I. Considered. It.” He strained finally, grimacing. “I had to be sure of your intentions. Only — I realized how different you were. How you are everything they and I are not.” 

“Oh, they’re sick?! How are they sick, Henry? Is it really the kind of thing for them to be locked up for? Or, maybe, did you consider that they might just need help?” She sighed in frustration and shook her head, taking a few steps to the balcony to lean on. It was a little cold from the night’s ocean breeze, but it didn’t bother her much.

“I agree, killing them would have been worse, but there had to be other ways, Henry!” She desperately wanted to know what he’d done with them, but maybe it was better that Claire didn’t. If she had found out, she probably would have tried to find them. Though what was stopping her from doing that now? Nothing.

The wind blew for a moment, and he seemed to gladly lose himself in it. “This world was going to burn Claire.” He said softly. “The methods --- Barbaric. Unacceptable.” He swallowed. “They wouldn’t listen.”

“No.” He said. “I can’t tell you where they are. There are people —” When she asked him he looked at her, hurt. “The LEAST qualified person to make it.” He had waited until she had finished yelling, letting an uncomfortable silence build up between them. “But when I looked around I was all there was.” His tone slid down to a quiet voice, seemingly indifferent and reserved as always. Up until this point, he had been leaning against the balcony, staring from time to time down at the waters. 

He discarded that position, standing and moving a few steps away. When he turned back to her he was guilt and frustration, a century’s worth, come to a head in a painful bewilderment. “AND I DIDN’T ASK TO MAKE IT!” He threw out an arm in a wild gesture. He wasn’t normally one to raise his voice, but Claire’s shouting and his own self-condemnation had pushed him to it. “How could I make it?! How could I choose between something so IMPOSSIBLE. Damned either way — My own kind; my only HOPE — or those innocents; all thankless, greedy, cruel — How could I choose?!” 

He looked betrayed, by what he would not say. “I couldn’t kill them! I couldn’t—live with myself. Even as they plotted genocide what right did I have to do the same; regardless of how worthy I felt the cause?” He bit his lip. “What SHOULD I have done Claire?” He looked away, a hand moving to his own face suspiciously. “I thought they deserved another chance — A chance — I could give them. That is why I looked to discover a way to end it all. Something to strip away the ability. Their weapon; take it away — then let them choose as they would.” His voice quieted, as he confessed further. “If I ever succeed in this ‘cure’ , and they walk free again, — I know they will never accept me. I knew that. I chose to be alone. Forever.” He finally looked at her, but on his face was a grief and hopelessness carried far too long. “Because I would not risk making the wrong choice.” 

Claire barely flinched when Henry started yelling back. She’d partly been expecting it, considering she’d been yelling at him and Henry wasn’t exactly the same person since being back. His words didn’t surprise her, though. Henry was always the type to blame himself.

“Henry–” She started, once he’d calmed down a little bit. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? We can never let them out now! After reading about what Adam Monroe did, I have no doubt that they’ll seek revenge. On you. Probably on me for caring about you. On the rest of your family. Just because you couldn’t think of a better way to change their minds.” Her tone was quiet, yet serious. Like a mother chastising her child almost.

She snorted in annoyance at his last few words. “Henry, no matter what decision you made, it was always going to be the wrong choice. Don’t you see that? And now–” Claire shook her head, part of her wanting to cry at the very thought of what Henry had done. “–Henry, what about the rest of us regenerators, huh? How am I, or any future regenerators, supposed to learn more? Ask questions?”

He looked as if he didn’t have an answer at first, before shaking his head. “I don’t know!” He admitted. “But I doubt killing them would have been better --- you’d have been robbed all the same. And joining them? Your ancestors would have likely died. Robbing you of more than history and questions that none of us fools know the answer to anyway!” The last sentence betrayed some of the frustration he himself felt. 

Had he done the right thing? Was what he had done really better than death? He hoped so, tried to tell himself so often when those thoughts bothered him. “No. They’re not dead.” He assured her, uncertain if it made his deed any better. “There were a number of them—are,” He was still hesitant, “Apparently they grouped together, talked about changing the world, guiding it along certain paths…” 

He heaved out an uncomfortable breath. “I was young, you have to understand.” He spoke as if it was a discredit upon his character. "I thought I had finally found purpose, and better, friends. People who understood. I allowed all of that to override by better judgement.” 

He frowned. “They were not who they claimed to be.” He said. “They went much—much too far. When I looked around I was the only one able to make the choice. So I imprisoned them. Locked them away—hid them in different corners of this world.” He met her eye. He knew what she would think of it. She herself had experience in that; how it felt to die over and over until reality seemed to disappear altogether. “I did not make it lightly.” He bit his lip. “Every alternative was worse.” 

“Henry–Henry, what?!” He wasn’t making any sense and the fact that he hadn’t told her this sooner was what really pissed her off. It wasn’t something small. It was huge. It effected them all Not just her. Not just Henry. Not just all the regenerators. Everyone. What he’d done had completely changed the world and kept her from learning about what they were.

“How could you do that? Where are they?” She paused and took a deep breath, thinking about everything that was now swimming through her head. “How long have they been locked away, Henry?!” Claire hadn’t been expecting him to say something like that and now all she wanted to do was punch a wall. Or him. Punching him would have probably been just as satisfying.

“WHO ARE YOU TO MAKE THAT DECISION?!”

He discarded that position, standing and moving a few steps away. When he turned back to her he was guilt and frustration, a century’s worth, come to a head in a painful bewilderment. “AND I DIDN’T ASK TO MAKE IT!” He threw out an arm in a wild gesture. He wasn’t normally one to raise his voice, but Claire’s shouting and his own self-condemnation had pushed him to it. “How could I make it?! How could I choose between something so IMPOSSIBLE. Damned either way --- My own kind; my only HOPE --- or those innocents; all thankless, greedy, cruel --- How could I choose?!” 

He glossed over her objection to his claims entirely with a shrug, deciding that he would continue to entertain the idea the place was somehow more his than anyone else’s. A small victory, even if it was from chosen ignorance. He smirked, almost making his intent clear. 

However, he listened intently to her description. He had a long memory, and had met many people with even more names. Rubeski however, was not a common one. “It does not.” He answered, his tone level so that he appeared almost stoic. “Unfortunately.” 

“But.” He said, adding almost as some kind of assurance. “I have a feeling—I may be going to certain places and dealing with certain people—shortly.” He seemed less-than-thrilled about whatever he was insinuating. “Who knows? I may hear or see something…If lucky I may happen across the man himself; and if I do, you have my word I will send him back. To you.” He nodded, deciding to once again involve himself in something he had no business to. 

When Henry mentioned not meeting anyone by that name, Shay let out a disappointed huff. Truthfully,s he hadn’t really been expecting him to have heard the name, but some part of her had gotten its hopes ups and now it was like a knife to the heart.

“Well, I can’t say that I’m really surprised.” She muttered, frowning a little at him and finishing her coffee. At Henry’s next words, mentioning that he was probably going somewhere, she raised an eyebrow “What are you planning, Henry? Where are you going? Does this have to do with Claire getting kidnapped?” At her last question, Shay squinted, her gut telling her that’s what was happening. 

“To do what, precisely?” He asked. There was no sense in hiding his intentions; she already knew them. “Call in the cavalry? The big guns?” It didn’t take someone who had witnessed the horror of war to understand why such a reaction would be so foolish. 

He sighed, taking a moment to finish his own coffee. He needed his wits about him, but knew the coffee wouldn’t do him any good. It was a mere frivolity of a habit, clinging from the past just so he could have the excuse to gather his thoughts. Coffee after all, was for contemplation. “I admire your enthusiasm.” He said, directing his thoughts back to her. “But there will come a time when this little rebellion must fight. Only it is not now. You are not ready.” He shook his head. “A show of force only gives the government permission to all-out war. For that, you and the others must be ready.” 

“The coffee I imagine.” He smirked, giving her an obvious answer with slightly raised eyebrows. “I started coming here in 1953.” He mused, but seemed to correct himself moments later. “It wasn’t a Starbucks of course, but it was incidentally a coffee shop. Coffee, and cafe on the side. Popular enough with all the ‘boys and girls’.” He chuckled, remembering those swinging times, the doo-wop melodies and the craze with milkshakes. His eyebrows raised as he came to realization. “I suppose that means I was here first.” He grinned, evidently pleased. 

He glanced at her, something about the worry in her voice giving him cause to reconsider her plight. “What does he do?” He questioned, expecting the person she was looking for had an ability of some kind. He knew why they were disappearing. “Describe him.” 

The brunette took a sip of her coffee and listened to Henry for a moment, snickering at his comment about being here first. “Oh, well, I supposed you’re right. But…I think that only counts if you’d never left. Which clearly you did, so…” She shrugged, smirking over at him and waiting until he started asking about Alex.

“He’s tall, ruggedly handsome. Also, a bit of a jokester. He likes to lighten the mood. His ability is, well, basically he doesn’t miss. Ever. I can’t remember what it’s called, though. His name’s Alex Rubeski, if that jogs any memories.”

He glossed over her objection to his claims entirely with a shrug, deciding that he would continue to entertain the idea the place was somehow more his than anyone else’s. A small victory, even if it was from chosen ignorance. He smirked, almost making his intent clear. 

However, he listened intently to her description. He had a long memory, and had met many people with even more names. Rubeski however, was not a common one. “It does not.” He answered, his tone level so that he appeared almost stoic. “Unfortunately.” 

endless list of faves: hornblower [tv] (gorgeous caps by buckbeakbabie!)

“I rather hope so.” He admitted, his tone making it obvious her location did have him worried. “Or at the least, she’s keeping out of trouble. That would be very nice, yes…” He seemed to be voicing some of his thoughts. 

The chanting got louder, the movements more aggressive. “Look at that.” He pointed it out to her. “See how the movements grow more primal? There’s real anger there. Not like a college protest. Say the wrong thing, and they’ll turn on you, regardless of what side your on.” His mouth opened slightly, letting out a breath. “I was at one of these once…I saw them beat a man to death.” He bit his lip, remembering how he’d tried to stop it. “Ironic thing. They spoke of ‘uplifting’ the poor man. Making things equal and fair for all. There was nothing fair about that fight.”  

He shivered slightly, not because of the cold, but because he remembered the bloodlust. The shouting grew even louder. “That’s a bad sign!” He called out, trying to be heard above the din. 

He bit his lip, “You’re able to experience the freedom to drink out of the same fountain as I do because of the extraordinary people that came before you! The people who believed non-violent protest was key, the people who bore up with a magnitude of injustice to prove a point, and eventually win.” He gestured with a hand back at the crowd. “Look around you Sasha. Do you see the same high ideals? What do you---” 

“God Claire…” Sometimes he had to stop himself, remembering that he wasn’t quite like other people. Claire hadn’t spent decades wondering if she was alone or not, she didn’t have his experiences. He sighed, “My point wasn’t whether you should know about the history of people such as ourselves, but that people who are powerful and immortal don’t simply go missing.” 

One thing was for certain, this wasn’t going to be easy and Claire wasn’t making it easier. He’d simply have to fire at the target and await the fallout. It was, as young people said these days, ‘stressing him out.’ 

“Something had to happen to them. That’s a something you should know. Because—-well. That something was me.” He had hoped she would grasp the point he was trying to make herself. He hated having to put it so bluntly. It made it sound worse somehow, and Claire might well jump to conclusions with how this sounded.

“Oh. Well, maybe you should be a little more clear.” She frowned slightly, listening to his next few words. “You have a point, I guess.”

It took her a moment to finally get what Henry was insinuating. “Are you saying what I think you are?” Her brows furrowed together in thought as she started to piece together what he was saying. Henry wasn’t making this easy on her. Why did he have to play this game and around in circles or be cryptic? It was honestly rather annoying and Claire was far too tired lately to handle this merry go round.

He heaved out an uncomfortable breath. “I was young, you have to understand.” He spoke as if it was a discredit upon his character. "I thought I had finally found purpose, and better, friends. People who understood. I allowed all of that to override by better judgement.”