------------------------------------------- Studies In Black & Blue - by Joanne Madge (j0lander@juno.com) ------------------------------------------- Duncan squinted in the harsh morning light, then turned a glance to his bedside clock: 8:57 a.m. Tessa wasn't in the room. He sighed and pushed out of bed, scrambling for his bathrobe. He stumbled half-blindly from the room, tying the robe's sash around his waist. He could hear the sound of Tessa pounding something metal in her workroom. Duncan sighed again and padded into the kitchen to make himself some breakfast, but before he could crack a single egg, she had joined him. "How do you feel?" She asked softly, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and kissing his chest in light, gentle pecks. "Mmm, better." The memory of Linda Plager dying, practically in his arms, just the night before still burned painfully in his mind, but even after seventeen years with Tessa, he still felt more comfortable dealing with his personal grief in solitude. Her hands moved tantalizingly lower. "I'm so sorry, Duncan. I know you cared for her very much." He cupped her face in his hands, love rising up so strongly in his throat he could barely breathe, let alone speak. Most women would be jealous. Most women would feel resentful of a six-decade-old lost love turning up just in time to die in his presence. Not Tess. His beautiful Tess. Twenty minutes later, she pulled slightly back from his passionate kisses. "Doon-can, there is something I need to tell you." He released her, stunned, his arms already aching to gather her up again. "What is it?" "It's Richie." Duncan wrapped his hands around her tiny waist and moved her side to side in a playful half-dance. "He liked Gregor, I know, but he'll do better to stay away from him for the time...." "No, Duncan." She took a step back from him. He felt a twinge of alarm. "What, then, Tess?" In answer, she pointed to the front door. Duncan turned to take a look. Richie was lying face down, clearly unconscious, a large, muddy foot print planted squarely in the middle of his back. Duncan groaned. "Not *again*! I thought the welcome mat seemed a bit lumpy when I got home last night." He shook his head sadly, his mind traveling back.... Slade, Ursa, Piton, how many others? And now Gregor. How difficult it was to be pre-Immortal. To a extra-sensitive few, like Duncan, the strange, gentle buzz of a pre-Immie was easily detectable as being a sign of, well, a pre-Immie being a pre-Immie! But to most, the odd sensation was not so easily identified. The light irritation -- like a persistent mosquito -- triggered a different response in them. An odd, instinctive, seemingly semi-aware response. Whereas Immortals like Duncan immediately became filled with the need to guide and protect the source of the pre-buzz.... The rest were filled with the overwhelming desire to clonk the source of the irritation soundly on the noggin! Tessa smiled sweetly. "You get the ice, I'll get the bandages." Duncan pouted. "Why do I always have to get the ice?" END -------------------------------------------------------------------