Immortality

Chapter Five - Doomed to Live

Chapter Five - Author's note: okay, a new chapter. Sorry it took so long. We're getting into some action now. Next chapter, something is going down, I promise. We'll also see David, Steel, and a whole bunch of other awesome people in the next chapter. But first: some happy domesticity! Also: IF YOU LIKED THIS, PLEASE COMMENT AND VOTE! It means so much to me when you do!

Nightingale, because Robin required it, was true to her word the next day. She obligingly stayed at home, much to the delight of her son and the subsequent jealousy of her husband; for Robin, though he loved his son, loved him as much as he loved Nightingale, had always been jealous of him.

When Nightingale was not at home, the two of them were thick as thieves. She had heard from everyone who had experienced it that the pair were inseparable. Colm was Robin in miniature at those times; a small, fiery print of her husband, complete with Robin's eccentricities, casual disregard for the opinions of others, flamboyant manner of speaking, and his imperious and witty inclinations.

But the moment Nightingale returned, they competed for her attention. Colm became quieter, more retiring, and attached himself to one of Nightingale's elbows while Robin sought to hold on to the other. Colm clambered for her lap and Robin for a kiss, and Colm always won.

This made Robin jealous on two fronts - the first was that he was jealous of Nightingale's place in Colm's heart, that he seemed to forgotten in favour of her. The second was that he rarely won in the battle for her affection, and, though he ceded the victory to his son with a smile, could often be seen sending the boy forlorn and envious looks.

And Nightingale knew Colm was not entirely unaware of these triumphs, for she had once seen him, when he thought she wasn't looking, give his father a smug grin when Nightingale had been forced to choose between sitting next to her son or her husband and had given Colm that particular honour.

"Adorable little shit," Robin had replied, and had gone to sit on Nightingale's other side.

Nightingale was reminded of this rivalry as, entering the library, she watched her son leap up from his place next to Robin and come barrelling toward her. Robin, lounging casually in a large green armchair, closed a book and gave a low sigh.

"What have you been up to?" she asked Colm.

"Reading," he replied.

"Oh?" she asked, and looked to Robin for explanation.

"Frankenstein," he told her, holding up the battered volume.

Nightingale tried to move slowly toward him but failed. She snatched the book out of Robin's hands. Her own quivered as she ran her fingers over the cover and opened it to the first page. There was marked the tell-tale signs of its origin, in a small dedication at the front in a messy hand:

To Jamie

Merry Christmas to the best husband in the world! Hope you like this book as much as I did!

Love Sophie 

Poor Sophie. She must not have known where the book would end up - left behind in a whore's bed by a man who evidently had cared very little for Sophie and her affection, or he would not have fucked Nightingale with his wedding band on and then left the careful present from his wife behind with the stink of him on the sheets.

She snapped it closed.

"Why this book?" she asked, and smiled at Robin. Her voice was brittle, but Colm, who had gone back to sitting wedged into the green armchair with Robin, did not seem to notice.

It was not lost on Robin, however, for his eyes widened and he paused a moment before speaking. When he did, it was in a calm, low voice, as though he thought that speaking softly to her would soothe her.