To Observe and Record
<CENTER>“To Observe and Record”</CENTER>
By
Lady MoonHawke
I should have known better. My trainers at Headquarters always, ALWAYS said, “Don’t get involved. We’re here to observe and record, not interfere.” And I knew it, in my head at least. And I thought I knew it in my heart.
Kyle Ross was my first assignment. The Powers That Be are careful about that, now. No sending novices after the more sadistic ones. So Kyle it was. In the Game no more than a century, and apparently trying to live very quietly. If he hadn’t been the student of a well-known and well-regarded immortal, he may never have been noticed.
He had just moved to a new town, and had established himself in an advertising agency, on apparently good credentials, so I arranged to get a job in the same agency, though not in his department. Watcher protocols had loosened up some, but not enough for me to throw myself right under his nose. It was a small agency, however, and I caught a glimpse of him once or twice a day. Between that and the information HQ was able to provide about him, I got on pretty well, I think.
Then it happened. I wasn’t even trying to keep tabs on him at that moment. The work at the ad agency was really quite interesting, and no other immortals seemed to even know of the existence of either Ross or this town. I had been sending in my reports regularly, “No Challenges, no trips. Everything quiet.” So I guess I was lulled into a false sense of complacency, as the saying goes.
I was totally immersed in my role as an ad agent’s assistant, and found myself caring that everything was done right. So as I carried a report to another agent’s office, I proofread it once more, just for good measure. And I crashed headfirst into Kyle Ross, Immortal, and my Watcher assignment. I stumbled, and landed tail-first on the floor, papers flying everywhere.
He immediately helped me up. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured when I was upright again. He stooped to gather my papers for me.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I wasn’t paying attention. It’s my fault.” I’d heard him speak before, but it had never before occurred to me how smooth and rich his voice was. My heart trip-hammered in my chest. Along with being smart and kind, Kyle Ross was also very handsome. And Immortal. I forced myself to calm down and seem only politely interested as he chattered.
“Really, it’s my fault,” he was saying. “I came charging around the corner, and you had no chance to see me.” He handed me back my report, now hopelessly scrambled up. I’d have to take it back to my desk and sort it out again. He must have seen the dismay cross my face. “It’s a mess, isn’t it? Let me take you to lunch to make it up to you.”
Yes. No. Yes. No. Oh, Lord, why me? He’s handsome and charming, and I’m supposed to have no contact with him. Okay, act normal. What would an ordinary, non-Watcher do when asked to lunch by an attractive person?
“Sure. I’d love to.” Then it occurred to me. He had no idea who I was. And I was supposed to be in the same boat. “Kelly Anderson,” I said, offering my hand. He took it, and I could feel the calluses on his palm from sword work.
“Kyle Ross. So where will I pick you up?”
“I work with Mike Curtis on 3.” Boy, am I going to get it for doing this. May as well enjoy it. I know I won’t get another chance. I’d lay odds on how fast I’ll get transferred once my report gets back to HQ. “Around 12:30?” I suggested.
He smiled, a brilliant expression, and my knees rippled like water. Oh, why did this have to happen to me? “I’ll see you then,” he assured me, then moved off.
I walked quickly, and much more carefully, back to my office and let the papers fall to the desk, falling into my chair in solidarity. What was I getting myself into? “Observe and Record” was the Watcher ideal, not “Have lunch and get friendly,” although in recent years, the rules had been relaxed somewhat. Still, it felt funny, to even think about going out with him, even if it wasn’t really a “date.”
He arrived promptly at 12:30, knocking, then sticking his head in. “Are you ready?”
Last chance to back out, Kelly. You can blow it off and keep the assignment I smiled. “Sure. Just let me tell Mike.” Guess I’m just a glutton for punishment.
* * * * * * * * *
That’s how it started. A casual lunch after a minor catastrophe. Then dinner, a movie. The results were inevitable, I guess. We enjoyed the same things, no surprise there, I guess. The higher-ups don’t pull names out of a hat, after all. And we fell in love. At least, I did. Must be the oldest story in the book, too, an observer falling in love with the subject.
We finally decided to move in together, although I didn’t share my secret with him, nor did he with me. Is it really a secret if I know but he doesn’t know that I know? Does that even make any sense? I certainly was glad I passed up the tattoo in favor of a pendant. He asked once, and I passed it off as a heirloom. I hated to lie, but revealing the whole story was out of the question. It didn’t take me long to keep two sets of Journals, either, and to keep both copies hidden. Well hidden.
He came back late from the office one night, and I knew that something had happened. His department had been working late, preparing a presentation, and everything had been fine when I checked in before leaving. Now he moved under a cloud, face grim and eyes flat. He disappeared into the bedroom, then reappeared a few minutes later, long coat flapping. I knew he kept his swords hidden from me. They’d been hard to find, and I knew what I was looking for.
I grabbed my camera quickly and watched from the window as he drove away, then followed, hoping he wouldn’t notice. My knees shook, my teeth chattered, and I wasn’t even the one who would be fighting. The non-interference rule started to make sense to me, though it was far too late. If I hadn’t gotten involved, I wouldn’t have been so terrified.
He parked on a dilapidated block, and I could see as he got out of the car that he was different. Not the Kyle I knew, who was sweet and caring, but a predator who could become the prey with one wrong move. He moved toward an alley and I followed cautiously, praying this wouldn’t be the night that the Game caught up with my love.
There was another lone spectre on the street, and I fingered my pendant in identification. In turn, he scratched his head in an exaggerated gesture, showing the inside of his wrist and the blue ink engraved there. I could barely make it out in the dark, but I didn’t need to see it, really. Who else would be in this deserted area tonight?
“Bill Watson,” he whispered when he was close enough.
“Kelly Anderson,” I replied.
“Seen many of these?” he asked as we slipped into a dark doorway. The fight was starting, and I was shivering, though not with cold.
“No. He’s not the type, really,” I replied. “My first case. This is the first fight I’ve Watched on my own.” I kept staring at Kyle, willing him to succeed, even if it was at the expense of another person. There was no other way for this to end than in death, and God may curse me for it, but I wanted Kyle to live.
“Good luck to you, then,” Ben whispered, and I started. It was as if he’d read my mind.
“What?”
“That’s Akmet Mussir,” he explained, gesturing. “He’s a grade-A certified SOB, and when he goes, I’ll look forward to Watching someone with a scrap of morals.”
“But that’ll mean he’s dead,” I protested. “Don’t you care about him?”
“I’m his Watcher, Miss Anderson. Not his best friend. He doesn’t know I exist, if I’m lucky. And frankly, after what I’ve seen him do, I’d be willing to kill him myself. He’s a true sadistic bastard, and I hope this is not his night.”
I pressed myself into the brick of the alcove, trying to keep away from this man, this perverted mutation of our ideals. Then I had to laugh at myself. If he was one example of the spectrum, I must be the other, in love with my subject, and living with him. Shakespeare was right. What fools we mortals are, indeed.
I did love him, though, and when Mussir hit first blood, I had to stifle a shriek that would have given both Ben and myself away. Kyle took it well, though, backing off from Mussir, giving himself room to heal, I supposed.
“First blood to you,” he said, on guard for a sudden attack. “Are you satisfied?”
“First blood is nothing to us, and you know it. Only your head will satisfy me.” His curved scimitar whirled in a hypnotizing dance, and I wished I was anyone else, anywhere else. He advanced and Kyle met him sword to sword, sparks flying from the clashing blades.
“I didn’t want this, you twit,” Kyle gritted. “YOU challenged me. Be satisfied and go away!”
“You forget the Gathering. There can be only one, and I intend to be him.” The scimitar whirled again, and Kyle’s shirt was sliced open across the belly, but he didn’t cry out. Please, God, let this end quickly. I don't know how much more either of us can take.
“The Gathering could be a millennia from now. Why bother with me?” Kyle asked. He had one arm wrapped across his belly, but I knew he wasn’t hurt. Something in his face, in the set of his shoulders. I couldn’t understand it. Why was he making himself a target? Then he went to one knee, and I knew it was over. Mussir moved into range, and I wanted to run into the middle and take the blow that was coming, but not because it would save Kyle. I knew it wouldn’t. I just didn’t want to live without him.
“As I said,” Mussir intoned, raising the scimitar high, “there can be only one.”
Then it was clear. Kyle lifted his head and sword, and skewered Akmet Mussir through the heart, yanking it back as the scimitar fell from nerveless fingers. “Yes,” he said as Mussir fell to his knees. “And it may not be me, but it sure as hell won’t be you.” Then a swift back hand with his sword, and it was over.
The body fell with a thump, and Kyle waited, head down, breathing heavily. The tell-tale mist started to rise, and I lifted my camera by rote, having done the photography as a student Watcher. I heard Ben whispering to me, and turned away from the lightening storm focused on Kyle. This part, I KNEW he would survive.
“Looks like this is over. I’m gonna check out and head back to HQ for debriefing and some rest. Maybe I’ll see you again.” He clapped me gently on the back. “Congratulations, Miss Anderson, and good luck next time.” He slipped away and was gone.
I caught a few more shots as the flashing wound down, and then watched as Kyle slowly pulled himself to his feet. He wiped his sword on the body, then gathered the scimitar, cleaning it as well. Slowly, he moved to something I hadn’t noticed before. He’d left his coat on the ground, away from the battle, and I wondered about it. He dug into a pocket, and suddenly, I understood. He’d brought his cell phone, and was making a call. Who would he call? Was there another Immortal in town? Someone who could help him dispose of the body. Then a horrid flash of insight hit me, just as my cell phone started to ring.
He turned at it’s shrill chirp, eyes locked unerringly on my no-longer-useful hiding place. Time to face the music. Somehow, I knew this would happen. There was no other choice. Now, it was a question of how soon he would run.
“Kelly? It was as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. His beautiful, compassionate eyes. “Kelly, I...”
I was close enough now to put a silencing finger on his lips. “I know,” I said simply. “I know everything.”
Now his eyes were hard, and he pushed my hand aside. “What do you know? How much?”
“Immortals, quickenings, the Gathering. Is there much more?”
“How do you know?” His voice dripped ice and venom.
“I’m a Watcher. We... Watch the Immortals, record their lives, the quickenings taken, their students. We keep track of as much as possible.” I wasn’t about to get into the Tribuneral or the now-defunct Hunters. Time enough for that later, if there was to be a later.
“By any means necessary, I suppose. Do you sleep with everyone you Watch?” God, he was hating me already, and I could hardly blame him.
“No. Never interfere is part of the Code. We are to observe and record only. Personal contact was forbidden in the past. Now, a passing acquaintance with the subject is permitted, but not much more.” I could feel a black cloud of depression descending on me. Guess I’d better think about heading back to HQ myself. “I’m sorry. I should have told you in the beginning, but I couldn’t think of a way to explain that I understood the secret you hadn’t told me. I’ll clear my things out tomorrow, and you won’t have to see me again. I know you hate me.”
Now his eyes were inscrutable. How much hadn’t I seen? How much about this man did I not know? I thought I had him figured out, and now I was beginning to believe I knew nothing at all. “Go home, Kelly. We’re not through talking about this, but I can’t leave him here while we go through everything,” he said, gesturing to the body. I turned to go, but his hand on my cheek stopped me. “I don’t hate you,” he said softly. “I’m just.. disappointed in you. But I’m disappointed in myself as well.” He kissed quickly on the forehead, then turned away. I didn’t realize until the drops hit my hands as I held my coat closed, that I was crying.
I was ready when he finally returned home. Both of my journals, the private one, and the copies of my reports were unearthed, and I had deliberately not changed clothes. I knew the rumors about the propensity of quickenings drawing out intense desire, and I was determined not to use that against him.
He hung his coat on the rack, and took the swords openly into the bedroom, not looking at me. Oh, what if he’d changed his mind? What if he did want me gone, and was just waiting for a moment when he didn’t want to strangle me to tell me? What if the moon was made of green cheese? Kelly, get a hold of yourself.
He came back in and stood in front of me. “Well?”
I handed him the journals. “One is a copy of the reports I have to send. The other is my private records. It gets to be a habit, journal writing.” I waited silently as he flipped through them, comparing entries.
“What are these reports supposed to include?” He asked, still comparing.
“Everything I can reasonably find out without making direct contact. Where you go, what you do, which challenges you take, or make.” It sounded so invasive, and I hated what I was for that instant.
“Why?”
Do I even really know? “Because, once the Gathering has come and gone, there will be no more of you. No one knows where you come from, why you come back from the dead. Because you, all of you, deserve more than to vanish from the face of the Earth with nothing left behind. Because maybe the drama you live with is interesting to a bunch of researchers who have nothing else to do. I don’t know. It all seemed so noble at first, to record the lives of a dying breed of people, so they won’t be forgotten. Now, I feel life a third-rate private eye, spying on people for money.” I wiped away the tears that threatened. I wouldn’t use sex to manipulate him, and I damn sure won’t use tears either.
“Did you sleep with me because I’m your assignment?” Ouch. He was throwing tough ones.
“No,” I replied, glad it was the truth. “I did it because I think you’re witty and charming and sweet and funny and kind. I did it because I’m in love with you.”
“And now? Do you still love me?” It seemed a strange question for him to ask.
“Yes. You haven’t changed. I’m the one who had a secret.” I stared at the floor, hoping a giant rift would open so I could tumble in.
He crouched down in front of me. “So now what?” he asked, tilting my chin up.
I shrugged. “Whatever you want. I’ll go if you want, or I’ll stay if you want. I kept something from you. You have to decide if you can live with it.”
“I kept something from you, too, even if you knew. Half of sharing a secret is knowing you’ve shared it. Can you forgive me for keeping mine?” he asked softly.
I nodded, tears starting form again. This time, he brushed them away.
“Then I’ll forgive you. Now come to bed. It’s late, and I really would like to get some rest before the O’Donnell presentation today.” He rose to his feet and pulled me up, guiding me toward the bedroom. He details could be worked out later, but for now we’d find our own way.
*The End*
Disclaimer: The concept of Immortals, and all related ideas (Watchers, the Gathering, etc.) are the property of Rysher/ Panzer Davis, and are used here without permission. Kyle Ross, Kelly Anderson, Ben Watson and Akmet Mussir are the propery of the author. (Not that I’m making any money from this. *Smile*)
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