Writing: Lane and Tess

     I'm going to warn you now that I have quite a bit of writing posts lined up for the next while. Poked a little through my hard-drive and found a bunch of stuff that was written well enough that I figured I might as well post it.

    With that in mind, onward we go.

    Lane and Tess do not, as you will discover, age naturally. They age quite unnaturally, in fact, both having lived centuries upon centuries. Don't ask about the backstory that's evident by his finding her, the mysterious 'Sterling', or what Tess what doing out during a turf war at all, because those are details I myself never got around to working out.

   What's important is that they found each other again, right?

       She ducked away from a gangster, who was waving a gun wildly through the air, pulling the hood of her jacket closer around her hair, keeping the conspicuous blue highlights from view.
    A shot rang out, making Tess’ heart falter and her head come around. Chaos reigned around her as the gang war erupted, but no one seemed to be paying her any attention. Rain poured down around them, the sky dark and rumbling with thunder.
    Lightning flashed and Tess jumped again, even as she ducked into a doorway to avoid a heavily tattooed man who ran past with an automatic machine gun in his hands.
    For reasons that she couldn’t pinpoint, these sorts of scenarios didn’t bother her. Tess took it all in stride, even as another male, younger this time, fell just a few feet away from her.
    Her mind tuned out the violence, the cursing, the screaming, and focused in on her goal. She couldn’t spot it through the downpour that fell in her eyes and made it difficult to see; not yet, at least. But she knew where it was.
    The old, run-down school held a sealed file somewhere on the second floor that she was supposed to retrieve. 
    Tess side-stepped into an alley, making sure no one had noticed her exit. Her bright eyes were uncharacteristically serious as she avoided a body that lay in a puddle of rain and blood.
    A glance over her shoulder proved the lack of a pursuer, and the woman allowed her shoulders to relax a bit, but kept a tight hold of the handgun strapped to her thigh. The weapon was like an extension of herself now, and Tess wondered when that had happened.
    I don’t even like guns, she mused, rounding a corner and coming up short.
    Even with the rain, unlit alley, and lack of sunlight, Tess spotted the black-clad male ten yards away. He was crouched near the wall, his profile turned her way, and his attention clearly on the backpack before him.
    Tess took a step backwards, and tripped on a stone in the middle of a pool of water. Blast it, no!
    A small yelp escaped her as she fell into the water. It soaked through her pants in moments, and Tess grimaced, drawing her gun.
    She leveled it in her silent spectator’s direction as she got to her feet again. Her hood was hanging down her back now, having fallen when she fell, and Tess used her free hand to remove her hair from her eyes.
    The man made move to rise, but she called out, “I wouldn’t. Stay where you are and I won’t put a bullet in you.”
    Now she just had to hope he wasn’t armed as well.
    ...And he was still moving. Was this guy mental?
    Tess kept her Berretta aimed on him as he stood, water running off his long, black jacket in rivulets. Something in her gut turned over as she took in his form, but Tess ignored it.
    This feeling had been showing up more and more recently; so what if this was the first person her intestines had decided to somersault for?
    “Tess,” he said, his voice almost inaudible through the discharge of weapons and rain. “Did they make you forget?”
    Blue eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name? Wait, no, scratch that. I have no desire to know. Just be quiet and allow me to go on my way.”
    The stranger took a step towards her. “No.”
    Tess wanted to laugh. He was telling the woman with the gun ‘no’? Definitely a moron. She cocked her handgun, brows rising pointedly.
    “You won’t shoot me,” he said with annoying surety.
    “Is that so?”
    Another stride forward that made Tess retreat a pace.
    “Stop moving.” He ordered more than anything.
    “That’s my line,” she bit out. This was taking too much time. Sterling wanted her back at nine on the dot, not twenty minutes behind schedule.
    “No, it’s mine. You just don’t remember.”
    The man had crossed half the distance between them now, and was still coming.
    Tess’ patience ran out. She clenched her teeth and let off a round to his left, near his foot. The sharp bang of the weapon startled her, but she refrained from dropping her gun.
    He drew to a halt, but Tess knew it wouldn’t last long. An odd feeling at the back of her head told her as much.
    It was right, so she did the last logical move she could think of. The Berretta was tucked back into its drop holster, and Tess ran.
    She bolted past him, shoulder brushing against the wall as she fled. Rain blinded her, and her hair clung to her cheeks with irritating tenacity.
    Tess couldn’t hear anything above her own breathing and heartbeat, the two sounds working together to drown out anything else, so she didn’t realize he’d pursued her until he caught her elbow.
    A cry tore from her throat as he yanked her to a stop before she could escape back into the turmoil in the main street.
    “Let go!” She gasped out, trying to pull away from him.
    It proved an impossible task, his grip tight on her forearms.
    “Stop and listen to me, Tess.” He said with an edge that made her pause.
    “No,” the woman said, avoiding his gaze as she continued struggled.
    The sounds of fighting had died down in the distance, and Tess wondered who had won. The rain seemed to be coming down even harder than before, and she could feel a chill seeping into her bones that would not be easily erased. If only this stupid man had chosen someone else to pick on!
    “I don’t know what they did to you, Tess, but you know me. You can feel it, can’t you?” Something about his tone brought her eyes up briefly.
    Stupid though he may be, he was right. That feeling was back again, stronger than before.
    Fear shivered through her veins. “I said to let me go, now,” Tess reiterated, trying to maintain her composure.
    I didn’t sign up for this, Sterling. In fact, I didn’t sign up at all, did I?

............

    Lane sat across from her in the abandoned classroom, digging through his backpack again, and not seeming to pay Tess any mind.
    Rain still poured down outside, some of it dripping through holes in the roof. The interior was dirty, grimy, and molding all across the walls and floor. The windows had long since been shot out, and there were only shattered remains left of the light-bulbs overhead.
    Tess was sitting on one of the aged desks, feet swinging in a façade of ease, while she was anything but. Her gaze flickered to the doorway. Wood still clung to the hinges, but the door itself was gone.
    Shivers racked her body every few seconds. The empty classroom had no means to retain heat, and Tess was feeling it more and more with every minute that passed.
    Her clothes clung to her skin, and she could feel water dribbling down between her shoulder-blades from her hair. It wasn’t the most pleasant of sensations, but Tess had made up her mind to not respond to it.
    She focused on the man, who’d introduced himself as Lane, who was still preoccupied for his search. Tess tried to place him in her memory, blue eyes narrowing in thought.
    There was something so very familiar about him. The way he sat, moved... heck, even the way he breathed! The focused look in his unremarkable green eyes and the steady way he sifted through the backpack with long-fingered hands. All of it struck Tess as things she had once known very well, but had forgotten about.
    Blast it all, where do I know you from? How do I know you?
    Tess’ belief that they knew each other was growing every minute that passed, and that was disconcerting in and of itself.
    “Here, look at this,” Lane requested, his voice quiet in the silence that had reigned until then.
    Her gaze went first to his outstretched hand, then his face.
    “What is it?” Starting to believe, not actually believing and it showed through the wariness in her tone.
    Lane was unperturbed by her blatant mistrust. That was how it appeared to her, at the least. “Take it, Tess, and see for yourself.”
    Tess hesitated another few moments, trying to discern anything from his calm gaze, failing, and then reaching out to snatch the object from his palm. She withdrew her arm, and leaned back so it would be illuminated by the gray light coming through one of the windows.
    Water dripped on her head, making gooseflesh break out on her arms and neck, but Tess scarcely noticed. Her attention was consumed by the small, glass vial in her hands.
    It was old; that she could tell within moments. There were nicks and hair-like fractures in the glass. The cork at the opening had been broken off to a stub; it would take a needle to work it out safely, and there was green intermingled with the brown of the stopper. The contents captured her, though, not the exterior.
    The substance was powdery, and shone silvery white, even in this poor lighting. Tess turned it around and around, watching the way it glimmered in a near trance-like state.
    She felt him watching her, waiting, but couldn’t bring herself to care.
    “Chennai, Tess, remember?” Lane’s voice was a low murmur, his hand appearing in her line of sight as he ran a finger along the vial as well. “We didn’t mean to be out on Holi, but something came up. Your... devotees doused you in silver. This silver, Tess.”
    She could see it as he spoke, the memory burning through her mind.
    Walking by Lane’s side, her sari blinding white, scarf drawn across her face, but nothing could ever tame the startling blue of her eyes.
    The sun beat down, burning hot and the air had been heavy with moisture.
    Tess remembered the sheen of sweat to her skin, the excited shouts from the celebrating crowds, being jostled from behind by someone, watching another covered with a brilliant red dye.
    They’d meant to stay indoors that day, unwilling to support the pagan festivities, but it had been unavoidable. A summons had come for Lane, and that automatically extended to her as well.
    It had happened five minutes from home. Tess, despite her ever cautious nature and attempts to not draw attention to herself, had amassed a small group of admirers, most of them young men, and they must’ve been lying in wait for her to make an appearance. There had been a shout of triumph, then the dye had coated her attire, her skin, everything, making her shine like a star.
    Tess came out of the recall with a choked gasp, clutching the desk with both hands. She didn’t know when she’d let go of the vial, but Lane had it, and she knew a moment of relief that it hadn’t shattered on the tiled floor.
    A shuddery breath left her. “What’s going on here?” She asked in a scarce whisper, trying to keep her voice from shaking and failing.
    Lane must’ve put away the dye, because his hands were free when he dragged his chair closer and reached out to touch her cheek with almost hesitant fingertips.
    Tess met his gaze and saw that he was struggling as well, pain in his eyes.
    “Who are you? What are you to me?” She continued, desperate for answers. “Who am I?”
    “They made you forget, Tess. They took you away and made you forget and I have spent the last fifty years trying to find you,” there was a strain on his voice.
    Two words stood out. “What do you mean, fifty years?”
    He seemed about to answer when lightning flashed outside and the crack of thunder followed it up within seconds. Tess cringed away from the window, clenching her teeth as another lost memory came to her.
    A ship being tossed about like a toy by a storm, and Lane out on the deck with the crew, manning the ropes and trying to keep them from sinking. She’d been in the hold, in their cabin, terrified for his life and hoping, praying, pleading that please, please, Lord, don’t take him from me.
    A sob tore from Tess’ throat as she remembered the tumult of emotions that had taken hold of her heart that day, tried to recall what had come later and couldn’t. Tears welled in her eyes and blotted everything out in a watery blur, but the warmth of Lane’s hand against her face didn’t disappear.
    So many things began appearing and tearing through her like a hurricane. People, places, and emotions; they were too numerous for her to know what to do with.
    Tess held her head between her arms, fingers tight in her hair as she rode out wave after wave of history. Because that was what it was, she realized after a few minutes.
    Not just her history, though, or she and Lane’s history, but the world’s history. There were suddenly so many languages on the tip of her tongue. She could see Mongols, Romans, Victorian England, the Civil War, all of it.

   And that's all, folks. I haven't ever written anything else for them, if you were wondering, although I do have another long-lived couple by the names Caesar and Anastasia. They got a bit more old-timey feel to them, I like to think.

   More to come, so keep an eye out in the next few days and I really hope you like reading through all this stuff. Feedback is welcome should you find you have any to give.

   Ad astra per aspera.
   To the stars, through difficulties.