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Chapter Five
Cordelia's scream broke the sudden stillness that had been left after the squeal of tyres faded away. It was a testament to Richie's determination as well as his Immortal healing that he made it over to Doyle just minutes after Angel and Cordelia. They both looked to be in shock, not suprisingly. Cordelia was staring open-mouthed at the still body of her friend, whilst Angel was keeping it together just enough to check the damage.
"He's dead", he declared quietly, as Richie approached.
"It will be ok".
"Oh my God, no! No..."
"Ok?! A good man is dead! Because of a hit and run. I don't call that ok".
"Angel..." Richie paused, wondering how he could begin to explain that Doyle wasn't permanently dead.
"Look, I'm sorry. Why don't we get him back to the office for now".
There was no-one else around, but Richie didn't really relish the thought of starting explanations in the middle of the street.
As an answer Angel just grabbed Doyle's body and started back towards the office. Cordelia looked lost for a minute then began to slowly follow him. Richie brought up the rear.
"Cordelia..."
"It's just not fair, Richie. How can he be dead?! He saved my life!"
"I know. Life isn't fair". He thought of the trials that the newly-immortal Doyle would now have to go through. He may be alive, but it still certainly wasn't fair.
Putting an arm around Cordelia whilst she began to cry, Richie steered her back inside, feeling woefully inadequate, despite knowing that Doyle would awaken any minute.
It was fifteen minutes later that Doyle's body, now laid out on Angel's bed, showed signs of life. Richie and Angel noticed the faint intake of breath at the same time, and with it, for Richie, the beginning of the Immortal buzz.
"What the Hell...?"
Angel frowned as Doyle's breathing became steadier. After a few minutes his eyes began flickering as consciousness returned to the Irishman, and he groaned in confusion.
Cordelia, in her grief, finally noticed, and promptly screamed and fainted.
Richie sighed and went to make her comfortable, seating her in one of the chairs.
"Wait", he told Angel, as Doyle continued to come round.
"Oh man. What happened?" the Irishman asked, staring at his friends. Angel just stared back at him, whiter even than normal. Richie rubbed his face once more and steeled himself to begin explanations. It was turning into a long night. He quickly wandered into the kitchen, and finding what he was looking for, he returned to the other room with a wry grin and two glasses of brandy.
"Angel, you alright?"
Angel met his friend's gaze, hardly believing that Doyle was, somehow, awake, talking to him. "You-you were dead..."
Doyle intake of breath was barely heard before he whispered, "Oh, man, you didn't...?"
Angel's eyes widened at the question, and Richie watched the growing interplay with increasing interest, wandering back over to the other two men with the drinks.
"No, I didn't. I-I couldn't...I wouldn't!"
"You're Immortal". Two shocked faces whipped round in response to Richie's blunt but casual comment. Doyle sat up, wincing at the headache which he assumed was from his injuries.
"What?! How?!"
"Here", Richie offered. They took the glasses and big gulps, almost without thinking. As the heat of the liquid warmed him for just a second, Angel wondered if he'd just stepped into the 'Twillight Zone', or whether he was about to uncover yet another of life's little tricks and quirks. Like vampires, demons, and Slayers, and visions from a higher power. The same Powers that had bought Richie and him together, he remembered. With that slightly sobering thought, he tried to focus on what else Richie was telling them.
"You died. And revived. Your first death. Now you're Immortal. You can't die, not permanently anyway, all inquires will heal, and you won't age..."
"But that's impossible".
"As impossible as vampires?" Angel asked, gently, his eyes never leaving Richie.
Richie swallowed. He was grateful for the sudden, but strange, understanding of the dark man, but realised that more concrete proof was needed. Taking a step back, he carefully drew his sword.
"You're one too, aren't you?" Angel asked, "I knew there was something - different - about you."
Richie gave a 'you got me' smirk, as he swiftly and smoothly raised his sword and slid it into his own chest. It was a nice, clean stroke, not the most painful way to die. As if any way was really pleasant, he thought, as he could feel his body start to shut down, first from the shock, as his body registered the, if mortal, irreparable damage to his internal organs. Of course, there was always the very slim possibility that this time it wouldn't work...With that last, encouraging thought, Richie Ryan knew no more.
Without really thinking, Angel knelt down and pulled the sword out of Richie's cold body. Logic demanded that this was a demonstration, that Richie would be alright, but there was enough human still in Angel to be shocked at his new friend's actions. Could someone just return from the dead like that? Vampirism was one thing - and vampires were never really alive after dying; but Angel had heard Richie's heart beat as clearly and as naturally as Cordelia's or Doyle's. Now it had stopped. But so had Doyle's, and the worst thing affecting the Irishman now was yet more shock and confusion. With quick strides Angel went to the kitchen and returned with the rest of the bottle of brandy, pouring an even larger measure than earlier for Doyle, and after a second's hesitation, another, smaller, shot for himself. Doyle gulped the amber liquid down, and Angel took the glass from him before his trembling hands dropped it.
"Oh, God, this is too much..."
"Doyle, it will be alright".
"Yeah? How'd you know? Richie could be completely delusional for all we know. Now he's just gone and killed himself. I liked the kid! You think he'll wake from the dead, like a nice little sleep?! It just don't work that way!"
Angry and confused, Doyle finally stood up and started pacing. He stopped in front of Cordelia's still form.
"Is she...?"
"Fainted. I told you. You were dead. Gone. Then, you were alive. I-I've never seen anything like it before. Are you in any pain, any at all?"
"No". A frown creased Doyle's forehead.
"Like it never happened." Angel gulped. "That car did some real damage. You died too quickly for us to even consider getting you to a hospital. Cordelia was distraught..."
As if summoned by her name, Cordelia stirred at that moment. Doyle knelt by her.
"Hey, Princess".
She blinked at him, re-orientating herself.
"Doyle? Did I fall asleep? I had a really strange dream. I dreamt this car hit you, and Angel and I couldn't do anything to help...And you died!" she half-babbled. She glanced at Doyle and Angel, who was still hovering by Richie's body. She caught sight of Richie's body, his chest still covered in blood, and screamed and fainted again.
Doyle blinked, stood and looked at Angel, who shrugged.
"Women", commented Doyle and gave a half-hearted grin.
"You, er, you think we should clean him up?" he asked, focusing back on Richie. Waiting to see if - when - he came back was starting to make him feel restless and useless. It had only been about ten minutes, but it felt much longer. He wanted to believe his new friend, and Angel certainly wouldn't have lied about the fact that he'd been dead. Doyle had seen some weird shit in his time - Hell, he was half-demon, that wasn't exactly normal, but people who lived forever? Didn't age, get ill? Could still walk in the sunlight? Didn't require a liquid diet? Where was the catch?
"I guess so", Angel replied, tearing Doyle's thoughts away from exactly what this so-called Immortality could mean. He nodded and went to get a cloth.
When he returned Angel gently took the cloth from him, and removing what remained of Richie's t-shirt, started to clean up the now-died blood on Richie's chest. That was when he noticed a kind of blue light flickering over Richie, licking at the gash in his chest. As he watched, the wound seemed to get smaller and begin to close up, being replaced with fresh new skin. Richie was healing at an incredible rate. Angel had somewhat increased healing abilities due to his vampire metabolism, and he also couldn't die from such a wound. But it would need weeks of recovery. But this...This was more than just healing fast. This was like a miracle recovery. Or - Immortality.
"It's true", he breathed, not sure how much he'd believed until then.
"Holy shit!" Doyle whispered, also looking at Richie.
"It's like nothing happened", he commented after a minute, "Did that blue flashy thing happen to me?"
"I don't know. I wasn't exactly watching. Probably, although your injuries were mainly internal. It all happened so fast..."
Angel looked up in surprise as Doyle raced to the kitchen. He returned with a small, sharp knife. Wincing, Doyle slowly drew a line across the palm of his head, deep enough to draw a fair amount to blood. He wiped enough of the blood away to see and the two friends watched with baited breath. Nothing happened. Then after a few seconds, the quickening flickered across Doyle's hand, quickly hiding any sign of the wound.
"That's-that's amazing."
A sharp intake of breath from the direction of Richie broke their revere. Doyle suddenly noticed that the buzzing headache he'd had earlier had now returned.
After another moment, Richie opened his eyes, glancing around, trying to get his bearings.
"I hate that part", he commented, catching slight of Angel and Doyle, and remembering what happened.
"You, er, you do that a lot?"
"No more than necessary."
"Each time you just come back, same as before".
"Exactly the same as before", Richie replied, slowly standing up and going to sit in the chair next to Cordelia. He then noticed his state of half-undress.
"Thanks", he grinned, "I think".
"Oh, sorry". Angel rushed to his bedroom, returning a minute later with a shirt which he tossed at Richie. The younger man smiled in response and quickly put it on. Not quite a fit but it would do the job. Doyle and Angel also took seats now, all three knowing that this could take a while. Richie wondered where to start. Now that Doyle believed him, he had to explain all the nasty stuff, like the Game, and not being able to have kids, and not knowing where you came from.
"Did you have someone to tell you about all this?" Doyle asked, thoughfully, before Richie could begin. Richie smiled, it was a good a place as anywhere to start talking about it. Damn, he wished Mac was here though. Maybe he could get Mac to come down to LA and visit them with him sometime.
"Yeah. Scared the Hell out of me at first. It's funny, I knew Mac was an Immortal, but I never guessed I could be one. He was a kind of foster father to me, I was living with him and Tessa when it happened".
"How did it happen?"
"Gun-shot. Some drugged up punk. Tess wasn't so lucky..." He blinked away the tears that still threatened at thoughts at Tessa.
"I'm sorry."
"It's ok. At least I had Mac. Sorry. Mac's Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. You guys really have to meet him some time. He's about 400 years, and knows much more about being immortal than I do." This aspect of immortality Doyle was, to a degree, more used to. After all, one of his best friends was over 100 years old.
"How old are you?" The quiet question was from Angel and the intensity of it took both other men by surprise. Then Doyle thought he knew what Angel was thinking. Being a vampire with a soul made Angel very unique. He no longer had any vampire 'friends', if you could call them that, and no human could understand what Angel went through, both as a vampire and as a person that could, baring a misfortunate accident with a wooden stake, live forever. It must give a person a completely different perspective on life. It was something that Doyle hadn't really given much thought to. Now, though, he could see Angel's need and interest. Here were people - normal-seeming, good people - who also seemed able to live forever. Maybe Angel wouldn't be so alone anymore. With a small start, Doyle realised that he had better start thinking of himself as part of the them and not of the us anymore. He was the same. Here was at least one catch, he also realised, remembering how alone Angel always seemed and how he would talk of his family and other people now long gone. What must it be like to watch loved ones grow old and die whilst you remained never-changing? He shuddered, not so sure he liked to think of this aspect of his new life, and wondered if there were other down-sides awaiting him.
"Twenty-two", Richie replied, after a moment, startled by Angel's intensity. Doyle made his mind return to the conservation.
"Twenty-two hundred?"
Richie swallowed a laugh. "Uh, no, afraid not. Just twenty-two. I died for the first time when I was nineteen."
"Are there many other Immortals? You said this Duncan MacLeod was one..."
"More than you may think, but it's not something we like to advertise. We're just normal people, only we live longer and don't age. People don't like things that seem different, though".
"Yeah", Angel replied softly. He had had a fair few encounters with 'scientists' who wanted to know exactly what made vampires tick. Was it a psychological phenomenon? Physical mutation? A seemingly 'tame' vampire had appeared to be an easy target, and there had been times, not long after his curse, that he hadn't been too bothered to fight against them.
"Richie, this headache I've got, is that anything to do with being immortal?"
"That's the buzz. It's how we recognise each other. If you concentrate on me, it should lessen". Doyle did, and it did.
"Oh man, ok, I'd better try and start from the beginning. As I said, the buzz is how we recognise other Immortals..."
"And those who will be immortal?"
"Yeah, sometimes. It's part of the Quickening, I think. The Quickening is our soul or something, the thing that makes us immortal."
"Blue flashy thing?"
"Yeah, that's part of it. You noticed, huh? I think of it as our energy and power..."
"Power that someone else may want? That's why you keep your immortality a secret", Angel commented, reiterating part of what was said before. He had a bad feeling about this though. Richie nodded and continued, confirming his bad vibes.
"Uh, yeah, but we-we also have other Immortals after it. Trying to kill us for it..." He trailed of again, unsure how to really explain the Game. On the surface level it sounded so ridiculous, and so blood-thirsty, how could he ever convince someone to join it. The same way you were convinced, he heard his teacher's voice remind him. Because you wanted to stay alive, and because those who cared for you wanted you to stay alive.
"Kill?"
"There is only one way for Immortals to die. Decapitation." He glanced at Doyle, who had gone a funny green colour. Understanding shone in his eyes, though.
"The sword. And the fight."
"It's all part of the Game. A deadly Game, to be the last remaining Immortal, and win the Prize. Whatever that is. It's kill or be killed. I had to fight earlier, and that light show was what happens to the loser's Quickening. I don't like to fight, but I do want to stay alive".
"You mean I have to...With a sword...Oh god!" Doyle looked like he was going to be sick, and never Angel or Richie could blame him.
"I'm sorry Doyle. I do know how you feel. I hated the idea of fighting, of killing. Still do. I was a street kid, I'd hardly ever seen a sword let alone kill someone with one. But I learnt, and I win. So will you, if you want to live."
Doyle just nodded.
"You'll teach me?" he asked after a moment.
"Oh. I-I'm still young. I've never taught. Mac's better. He's a great teacher..." Richie faltered. He knew he was still too inexperienced to take on a student.
"Hmm. Think he'll come to LA?" Doyle asked dryly.
"Maybe you should come back to Seacouver with me".
"Can't. My work is here."
"Work! Doyle, this is a matter of life and death!"
"So's this". The meaningful look that passed between Doyle and Angel didn't escape Richie's notice. He wondered exactly what the meaning was. He opened his mouth to attempt to ask, when Doyle keeled over in sudden pain.
"Doyle!"
He glanced up at Angel, about to ask what was going on. It was obviously something they were used to, as there was no surprise on Angel's face as he watched Doyle. Richie frowned. An Immortal with some kind of illness or disability could never last long in the Game. However, after another few seconds, Doyle seemed to be coming to. Then he blinked up at them, a pained expression on his face.
"Hey", he said, realising something as his head cleared, "this immortality thing sure gets rid of the mind-crushing post-vision headaches quickly".
Angel just raised an eyebrow.
"Just finding the silver lining".
"So you're still my seer".
"Yeah, so no trips to Seacouver".
"Er, visions? Seer? What's going on?"
"Sorry Richie. I guess it's time we returned the favour now you told us all about yourself. Angel, wanna go first?"
Angel sighed and wondered how to begin their tale.