[otc] 33.1 - rest
He should have been able to rest in Florence, especially on the Ambrogio vineyard. The weather was fair, and the vineyard itself was tranquil…so quiet, so serene…
Then again, that was probably part of the problem. Too much time alone with his own thoughts. He wasn’t alone in the days that followed her funeral, however, as he often found himself by Zee’s grave, in Tommy’s company.
The poor guy looked like shit.
The night before their flight back to the States, he found himself beside her grave with Tommy at his side. The pair sat side by side, sharing a bottle of wine in final farewell to the fallen Immortal as they both sought out the same peaceful slumber she now enjoyed.
“You drink well.” Ryder observed, taking a swig straight from the bottle before passing it to Tommy.
Tommy accepted the bottle gamely, taking a much deeper swig with a heavy sigh after swallowing. His features were pale in the light of the moon, made too thin by the heavy shadows under his eyes.
“I can’t get drunk.” His voice was dull and toneless, his eyes too bright, too alive in his face as he stared at her headstone.
“Sucks to be you.”
He laughed a little at that, the first genuine laugh Ryder had heard from him in days. “Amen to that.”
Silence fell between them. The grave that sat before them filled it with a thick blanket of things left unspoken.
“Do you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The hole…the big gaping wound in the world where she should be?”
Ryder thought about it for a moment, nodding. “Yeah.”
“You’re lucky. I ain’t even got that.”
“You got May.”
This time the laugh wasn’t as real. In fact, it was hard and a little bitter. “Zee has May. She’ll always fucking have May…I can’t let her out of my fucking site, she took so much of her…”
Understanding, Ryder took back the bottle and downed another swallow of wine, letting the bitter taste of the alcohol sting his tongue and burn dully down his throat. He could hardly imagine that kind of pain, having a child that brought back the ghost of a dead lover…
“It ain’t like that.”
Ryder blinked, glancing at Tommy sharply. “You in my head?”
“Not intentionally…sorry, dude. My powers have been growing. I just…heard you.”
Nodding in understanding, he handed the bottle back to Tommy as silence fell again.
“She’s haunting us all.”
“Not like me, Ry.”
“Nah…worse. Some of us…”
He trailed off, his throat closing before he could admit to the blood on his hands, the quiet stillness and the comfort that the heat of it brought him.
“I know…seriously, I know, Mays. I know who you are…what you are.”
There was something in his voice…something in his face as Ryder glanced at him, then back at Zee’s grave. She filled the silence so well, but there was nothing but unfulfilled potential there. No answers, no hope…no peace. Maybe she wasn’t sleeping as soundly as he thought after all…
“You’re doing the right thing.”
His head snapped up, eyes going wide. “What?”
“You’re doing the right thing.” His voice had a little more feeling as he stared at her headstone. “It’s horrible, it’s sick, but it’s what’s needed. Not all good men are heroes, Mays. Some are villains and killers and thieves. There’s no redemption for them…but there’s always hope.”
He paused, taking another swallow of wine before handing the bottle back to Ryder. “You’re a killer, a sinner of the worst kind…but you’re not a Hunter. You never will be again.”
For a long moment he could only stare at Tommy, then finally reached for the wine bottle, fumbling a little as he took a long swallow and stared at Zee’s grave again with wide eyes, too bright in the pale illumination of the moon. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe, and every muscle felt heavy and swollen, rooted to the spot with a strange combination of terror and fatigue.
But for the first time in years, just for a moment…he felt like he could finally rest.
Muse: Mays Ryder
Fandom: Highlander (OC)
Words: 704
Then again, that was probably part of the problem. Too much time alone with his own thoughts. He wasn’t alone in the days that followed her funeral, however, as he often found himself by Zee’s grave, in Tommy’s company.
The poor guy looked like shit.
The night before their flight back to the States, he found himself beside her grave with Tommy at his side. The pair sat side by side, sharing a bottle of wine in final farewell to the fallen Immortal as they both sought out the same peaceful slumber she now enjoyed.
“You drink well.” Ryder observed, taking a swig straight from the bottle before passing it to Tommy.
Tommy accepted the bottle gamely, taking a much deeper swig with a heavy sigh after swallowing. His features were pale in the light of the moon, made too thin by the heavy shadows under his eyes.
“I can’t get drunk.” His voice was dull and toneless, his eyes too bright, too alive in his face as he stared at her headstone.
“Sucks to be you.”
He laughed a little at that, the first genuine laugh Ryder had heard from him in days. “Amen to that.”
Silence fell between them. The grave that sat before them filled it with a thick blanket of things left unspoken.
“Do you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The hole…the big gaping wound in the world where she should be?”
Ryder thought about it for a moment, nodding. “Yeah.”
“You’re lucky. I ain’t even got that.”
“You got May.”
This time the laugh wasn’t as real. In fact, it was hard and a little bitter. “Zee has May. She’ll always fucking have May…I can’t let her out of my fucking site, she took so much of her…”
Understanding, Ryder took back the bottle and downed another swallow of wine, letting the bitter taste of the alcohol sting his tongue and burn dully down his throat. He could hardly imagine that kind of pain, having a child that brought back the ghost of a dead lover…
“It ain’t like that.”
Ryder blinked, glancing at Tommy sharply. “You in my head?”
“Not intentionally…sorry, dude. My powers have been growing. I just…heard you.”
Nodding in understanding, he handed the bottle back to Tommy as silence fell again.
“She’s haunting us all.”
“Not like me, Ry.”
“Nah…worse. Some of us…”
He trailed off, his throat closing before he could admit to the blood on his hands, the quiet stillness and the comfort that the heat of it brought him.
“I know…seriously, I know, Mays. I know who you are…what you are.”
There was something in his voice…something in his face as Ryder glanced at him, then back at Zee’s grave. She filled the silence so well, but there was nothing but unfulfilled potential there. No answers, no hope…no peace. Maybe she wasn’t sleeping as soundly as he thought after all…
“You’re doing the right thing.”
His head snapped up, eyes going wide. “What?”
“You’re doing the right thing.” His voice had a little more feeling as he stared at her headstone. “It’s horrible, it’s sick, but it’s what’s needed. Not all good men are heroes, Mays. Some are villains and killers and thieves. There’s no redemption for them…but there’s always hope.”
He paused, taking another swallow of wine before handing the bottle back to Ryder. “You’re a killer, a sinner of the worst kind…but you’re not a Hunter. You never will be again.”
For a long moment he could only stare at Tommy, then finally reached for the wine bottle, fumbling a little as he took a long swallow and stared at Zee’s grave again with wide eyes, too bright in the pale illumination of the moon. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe, and every muscle felt heavy and swollen, rooted to the spot with a strange combination of terror and fatigue.
But for the first time in years, just for a moment…he felt like he could finally rest.
Muse: Mays Ryder
Fandom: Highlander (OC)
Words: 704