Fic: Lurking in the SHadows
Lurking in the Shadows
author: lasairfhiona
pov: Fitzcairn
characters: Fitz
Word count: 378
Summary: Fitz is reflective
Hl_flashfic prompt: Ftizcairn
P/D owns them, I get nothing but pleasure from playing with them
*^*^*^*^*
Fitz sat on the bench near MacLeod's barge and watched boats travel up and down the Seine at sunset. A beautiful woman by his side and it would have made for a perfect romantic setting, except, for probably the first time in his life he wasn't thinking about a woman.
No. He was thinking about life. Mostly his, but MacLeod's too. And death. Death was definitely prevalent in his thoughts. Being immortal he had a skewed view of death. While it was never easy and sometimes cut to the bone, he'd lost friends to the blade and others to old age but those were understood. What he didn't understand was senseless death. Death without reason. Darius's death.
The priest should have been safe. No immortal would take him on holy ground. If nothing else was sacred in their crazy game--holy ground was the only thing that was. But there it had been. Darius's headless body laying in the middle of the church.
Fitz shivered, pulling his coat closer around him, even though it wasn't overly cold out. He was cold to the bone thinking about what happened after he and MacLeod went on the search for Darius's killers. He would never forget the feeling of being under the guillotine about to lose his head. The senselessness of it. The "mortals" that were killing them.
MacLeod had gone back to America to follow a lead and uncovered the Watchers, he'd discovered the ones hunting the immortals and found the men who'd led the killing party on Darius and tried to kill him. MacLeod had killed the ring leader but the relief Fitz felt couldn't shake the feeling he had. They were still out there. They were still out there, lurking in the shadows, watching him. Them. He didn't like this feeling. Not one bit.
When the sun fell below the horizon, Fitz stood and headed to the bridge and the crowd of people still walking around the city. He had no desire to be alone in dark places where someone could sneak up on him and take him. MacLeod might have killed the ring leader but that didn't mean there weren't followers with the same hatred of Immortals and the same desire to see them all dead. For the first time since he was a young boy he was afraid of what was lurking in the shadows.
author: lasairfhiona
pov: Fitzcairn
characters: Fitz
Word count: 378
Summary: Fitz is reflective
Hl_flashfic prompt: Ftizcairn
P/D owns them, I get nothing but pleasure from playing with them
*^*^*^*^*
Fitz sat on the bench near MacLeod's barge and watched boats travel up and down the Seine at sunset. A beautiful woman by his side and it would have made for a perfect romantic setting, except, for probably the first time in his life he wasn't thinking about a woman.
No. He was thinking about life. Mostly his, but MacLeod's too. And death. Death was definitely prevalent in his thoughts. Being immortal he had a skewed view of death. While it was never easy and sometimes cut to the bone, he'd lost friends to the blade and others to old age but those were understood. What he didn't understand was senseless death. Death without reason. Darius's death.
The priest should have been safe. No immortal would take him on holy ground. If nothing else was sacred in their crazy game--holy ground was the only thing that was. But there it had been. Darius's headless body laying in the middle of the church.
Fitz shivered, pulling his coat closer around him, even though it wasn't overly cold out. He was cold to the bone thinking about what happened after he and MacLeod went on the search for Darius's killers. He would never forget the feeling of being under the guillotine about to lose his head. The senselessness of it. The "mortals" that were killing them.
MacLeod had gone back to America to follow a lead and uncovered the Watchers, he'd discovered the ones hunting the immortals and found the men who'd led the killing party on Darius and tried to kill him. MacLeod had killed the ring leader but the relief Fitz felt couldn't shake the feeling he had. They were still out there. They were still out there, lurking in the shadows, watching him. Them. He didn't like this feeling. Not one bit.
When the sun fell below the horizon, Fitz stood and headed to the bridge and the crowd of people still walking around the city. He had no desire to be alone in dark places where someone could sneak up on him and take him. MacLeod might have killed the ring leader but that didn't mean there weren't followers with the same hatred of Immortals and the same desire to see them all dead. For the first time since he was a young boy he was afraid of what was lurking in the shadows.