First Christmas Alone
By Iris Rose
It was Christmas Eve. He could hear the sounds of
church bells in the near distance, ringing out rivers of joy and peace,
celebration and salvation, flowing over the city like a gentle tide. Happy
families, happy, cheerful children. Love and peace abounded.
But here, inside his studio apartment, a year
after Tessa's death, he felt no peace, no joy, no happiness. His only comfort
was in the bottle of good Scottish whiskey he was drinking, hiding this night
in oblivion.
He thought of the past year, of the time he had
exiled himself from everyone and everything he cared about that reminded him of
the lost love he'd had to bear.
There had been many things in 400 years that had
caused him pain, broke his heart, but never his spirit. He had loved and lost
countless times. He had been abandoned by his father, his clan, because they
didn't understand him, believed him to be a devil arising from the dead. In
that time he had lost, for more time then he could remember, his whole
existence, his whole self. Until Connor came and saved him, made him understand
what he was, who he was. And, yet, being immortal had never stopped him from
being Duncan MacLeod, of the Clan MacLeod. For, until his time of ending, he
would always be that man, that person. He would always be the chieftain's son.
He had seen men and women die. He had killed his
share. He had been forced to kill not only enemies, but sometimes friends.
Immorality came with a price. Some
immortals just couldn't handle the power, the timelessness. Some were good,
turned evil. Some had been just evil. He had cried when he had needed to kill those
he loved, called friends. He was man enough to cry when the tears threatened.
Strong enough to kill even when the killing took something from inside his
soul.
And Tessa had been there for him. For over 12
years she had been his strength, his warmth, his barrier against the part of
his world few mortals knew about. He had loved her, he had been going to marry
her, had asked her, she had accepted. She had been killed...shot by some thug's
greedy need for drug money.
And now it was his first Christmas without her. As
the whiskey took affect, he thought he could see her as she trimmed the tree,
hear he laughter, see the light in her eyes as she floated around the
apartment, decorating, teasing him about what he had for her gifts this year,
teasing him because what do you get a 400 year old immortal? Teasing,
laughing...
"Duncan? Wake up Duncan. It's Christmas eve,
you sleepy head." The voice was heavily accented, defiantly female.
"Tessa?" His voice held both surprise
and hope, mixed with confusion.
"Yes, who else do you think would be waking
you up on Christmas eve? Not some other woman from your 400 years I hope."
Duncan was awake now, fully and completely. His
heart beat to a new rhythm, hope filled him. It had been a dream? She wasn't
dead? He dared not hope too much until he was sure.
"Tessa, is it really you?" he asked, his
eyes starting to tear, filling with hope as they rested on her beloved face,
her blond curly hair, her eyes. "Oh my god," he whispered, grabbing
her down to him and holding her as close as he could manage. "Oh my god,
Tessa, you're not dead. You're alive."
"Well, of course I'm alive, Duncan. Why
wouldn't I be alive?" She was defiantly confused. "As Connor once told you, in this time
and this place, we are alive to enjoy what we have."
"In this time and this place?" He asked.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know, silly. I guess you'll have to
ask him what it meant. He's the one who said it."
He looked at her for hidden meaning and found none.
She seemed as honest and pure as when he had first met her. His Tessa, his
love. Again he held her close, so close their heartbeats became almost one. He
trembled from his relief, his fear still too tangible.
Tessa could feel his body tremble as she held him
close to her. She wrapped her arms around him, molded her soft body to the hard
contours of his, kissed his brow, his eyes, his tears, his lips. She wanted to
take into herself his fear and pain, giving him her love, tenderness, and
strength in return.
"Tessa," he whispered. "God, I
dreamed you died, that you were shot. I saved you from one evil for another to
take it's place. I was able to save you from a crazy immortal, just for a
mortal druggie to kill you for a few dollars to satisfy his habit."
"But I am here, now, Duncan," she
whispered. "I am here for you this Christmas, for you to love, to fill
your loneliness."
He smiled, a cautious smile. "Yes, you're
here. Warm, vibrant, lovely as ever. How much I love you, Tessa. You can never
know."
She smiled, then lifted herself so that she was
looking down at him, "Well, shall we exchange our Christmas gifts
then?"
A wicked smile crossed his lips, his eyes filled
with remembered devilment, his body harden with sudden desire,
"Well, I have a Christmas present for you, my
love. All you have to do is unwrap it to get at it."
"Duncan!" she pretended astonishment.
"Yes?" He was all innocence.
She laughed. "Well, first, you open
mine." When his fingers went to
her shirt buttons, she stopped them and said with a smile,
"That's your second gift, Duncan. I have
another for you as well." She got
up and went to the tree and pulled a softly wrapped package out from under,
bringing it to him to unwrap.
He was never one for careful openings. He pulled
the paper away like a child. He
uncovered an oblong glass case maybe a foot long. Inside the case was a golden
rose, sparkling, reflecting the twinkling lights of the tree.
"Oh my, Tessa," he said, taking it from
it's case "this is exquisite. Where did you find such a treasure?"
"I had it made for you," she answered.
"What do you get someone who has everything? I was pretty sure you hadn't
one of these."
No, I didn't, until now," he smiled. Then
reaching for her, he drew her to him,
"Thank you, Tessa. Now, what about your other
promised present?"
She smiled. "Don't I get anything for
Christmas?" When she saw his eyes light up with devilment, she laughed.
"Not that present, Duncan. I thought I saw a
present under the tree for me, too."
Duncan got up and went to the tree. Sure enough,
there was a present there with Tessa's name on it. He didn't remember getting
it or wrapping it. He didn't remember a lot of things tonight. But things were
alright now, and that's all he needed to know. She was here.
He reached down and brought the present out and
handed it to her. He wondered if he had indeed gotten her the present he had
considered only a few months ago...
Meanwhile, Tessa was opening the small gift with
the same childlike excitement Duncan had shown. She gasped when she undid the
black box she uncovered. Inside was a sapphire and diamond necklace and earring
set. Small, beautiful, delicate like her.
"Oh, Duncan," she said. "It's
beautiful."
"Not nearly as beautiful as you are," he
said. It wasn't a lie, he meant it. She sat there with the lights of the tree
surrounding her, making a halo around her blond curls. She smiled up at him,
her love almost a tangible thing between them. Without a word he reached for
her and she came into his arms like a breeze, effortless, warm, soothing.
They made love slowly, tenderly, intensely, there
on the couch. Then they went to the bed and did it again. Twice. It was almost
dawn when they fell asleep, her last words to him being,
"Duncan, you must not live in the past so
much. Take what you are and live on in your life. Remember that I will always
love you..."
Duncan woke to the sun shining weakly through the
window of his apartment. He reached for Tessa, but she wasn't there. He turned
and fell onto the floor, the couch too narrow to keep his body safe.
He sat up and looked around through bleary eyes,
seeing again the apartment he had lived in for the past year. The studio
apartment. She wasn't there, she hadn't been all night. He had dreamed it all.
He felt the tears start, hot and streaming. He
bowed his head where he sat on the floor, his shoulders heaving with his cries,
his soul in distress. How could a good God allow someone like her to die? That
was the question he has asked himself over and over again. He had no answers.
When his sobs had subsided, he lifted his head and
caught a glint of sunshine bouncing off something shiny on the coffee table,
behind the toppled empty whiskey bottle. With trembling fingers he reached out
his hand and picked it up.
It was a golden rose