"It's not fair," the young-looking woman said to herself. She sat next to a small stone that commemorated the life of a man that most presumed to be her grandfather. "You get to die, why don't I?"

Had anyone listened in on that conversation, they would have presumed that they'd wandered in upon the musings of a young woman, possibly suicidally depressed. Then they'd quickly wander away, staying away from death in a cemetery.

But she knew that appearances were deceptive. Most of the people that she met had no clue that she was actually older than them, that she was mourning her husband, who'd had the fortune to grow old and die.

Her sword handle butted her uncomfortably in the ribs, a constant reminder that, unlike most living things, she was left out of the life cycle. Certainly, she had been born, she was living, and she would someday die. It just didn't help that she had looked the same for the last sixty years. She longed for normality.

A snatch of a song a few decades old haunted her. So much time had passed, so much had happened. Events of her childhood had become ancient history to the people of this time. Historians argued the Kennedy Assasination as just an academic interest, a somewhat minor part of history. She was not even on the planet when that had happened.

Then a soft sound, the sound of air being slowly but suddenly moved out of the way, startled her. "You should be careful about that," she said, not turning around to look at the person who had just appeared.

A woman sat down beside her. The woman was middle-aged, with random strands of hair going gray. "Theona," she acknowledged.

Theona Newman smiled. She had the strong, thin face of her father, along with his lankiness. Like him, she spoke with an Australian accent, although her mother had been British, a woman that Adam had met on one of his frequent trips to London. She brushed black hair out of her face, looking at the Immortal with quiet blue eyes. "Greer."

The other woman smiled wanly. A tumble of images raced through the Immortal's mind: Adam handing Theona to her when she was only a few days old. He'd been such a proud father. Various parts of growing up, scraped knees and educational programs on BBC1. Theona's breaking out, bringing hope that the genes that controlled the Tomorrow Peoples' abilities were indeed dominant.

Sometimes a long memory was good. But Theona's presence brought back one cold, hard fact to her: she wasn't getting any older. Theona's face was starting to wrinkle, and her hair was going to go gray within a decade. Her father was a lively old gentleman, but he was still old. Now he looked like her grandfather. Theona looked like a cousin, or an aunt.

And she still looked twenty-nine, the woman who had changed Theona's diapers and sung lullabyes to her. Aging could be cruel. Not aging could be torture.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Theona asked. Her companion smiled. So much like her father, always the one trying to heal the hurts. They'd hoped for a while that Theona would inherit her father's healing powers, but she didn't have his gift. But she'd grown up to be a counsellor: she'd been given an empathic gift to make up for not inheriting that. It was an excellent choice for someone in her family. Theona drew her close with a hug. Her father had been the tactile one, almost too tactile for those who were afraid of touching. She'd followed in his footsteps; how could she not have, being his daughter with his gifts.

"I miss him too," Theona said quietly. She didn't know if Theona had pulled it out of her mind, or if it was so obvious that she was grieving. She'd found it hard to deal with grief counselling, with the counsellor discussing how it was to lose her Grandpa, since she obviously couldn't tell him the truth. But, it occured to her that Theona might be a good choice after all. She understood, ever since she'd found out about the other woman's Immortality. A sliced hand and an unchanging face had done wonders for credibility.

Still, a counsellor who could read minds wasn't her first choice. She remembered one of those TV programs that Megabyte had gotten her to watch. One of the Star Trek sequels, with the empathic counsellor. It was too bad that Theona had been born several years after that program had stopped being made. She wondered if anyone knew. But they couldn't. She'd tried so hard to make sure that no one stopped this particular miracle before it had a chance to spread all over the planet.

And it was. Her purpose was done. They didn't need her anymore. Humankind was on its way to not killing itself off. "We still need you," Theona said soothingly.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she said mildly, although she was more upset inside. Theona would pick up on both parts, she knew.

"Sometimes, it has to be done."

The older-looking woman came out of their hug, but was still holding her gently. "What happened to your father's ethics?"

"He knows. He approves. He's known you too long," Theona said gently. "He can't bear to see you die."

"I'm fifteen years older, you think that I would be allowed," she said indignantly. The other woman gazed at her sadly, and she was reminded about how precious life was, how beautiful it was, and how much better it was when one couldn't kill.

Theona didn't respond, but she felt a wave of warmth roll over her. One of Theona's talents- projective empathy. She'd been grateful for it sometimes, trying to understand her unique friends and their kids.

"I won't leave you, yet," she said patiently, knowing that she could be there for hours discussing it. Stubborn Newmans. Hard to believe that Adam was worse.

"Promise?" Theona said, her voice lightening a bit.

"Promise," she said, finally. "Could I trouble you for a ride home?"

Theona smiled. "Certainly."