At first you had no idea the Kurgan, or as you knew him, Victor, was immortal until after he died. The irony of it would have been slightly funny in the man you loved wasn't dead.
He had disappeared a week before you had found out from a man named Connor who had seen the missing person posters.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but are you (Y/n) (L/n)?" a man wearing a leather jacket asked. He held a folded piece of paper in his hand. To say you were curious would be an understatement.
"I am, who are you?"
"Connor, Connor McLeod," he said. "I'm here about the missing person?"
Victor.
You invited him in quickly, eager to find out what he knew.
"I'm afraid... Victor," he said his name as if he was unsure of himself, "was murdered. A few days ago, I'm sorry."
"Are you police?" You asked, not willing to accept his death from a stranger.
"No, but..."
It made you sick, thinking of how Connor had told you of the Quickening and the Gathering. You thought it was a lie, just a fantasy story fabricated by an idiot until he explained what powers he was given. He took a moment to close his eyes and then he repeated your exact thoughts. Nothing else could explain how he could read you mind.
Connor pulled a photograph of Victor from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to you.
"That doesn't look anything like him." You looked up at him in confusion.
"He had a scar, on his neck," said Connor. "A man called Ramirez did it to him and damaged his voice a long time ago. He had black hair, tied back until he cut it off because the police were searching for him."
"That... that does sound like him."
After putting the two photographs side by side, you could see how similar they were and it was undeniable. Victor was dead. Connor had attempted to console and comfort you but knowing he had killed Victor. He was surprised that the Kurgan, as Connor called him, could even love someone.
"He was actually kind of sweet," you said, biting your lip.
"Sweet?" Connor repeated, his eyebrows raising.
"Yeah," you said, smiling at the fond memories you had made. "He was kind to me, almost always polite. I just... I don't know why he never said anything."
"He meant to come home," said Connor. "He never thought failure was an option."
"But you describe him as a savage," you said. "He wasn't like that, rude to some people and sometimes a bit strange. Maybe sometimes a bit violent when we were in bars and... clubs... but not really in a way I'd describe as barbaric or savage."
He nodded while you thought of how Victor had given you a present on the morning his disappeared and how overbearing he was being. Thinking back, she thought of it as overbearing but she had just woken up and probably overreacted. Although, being smothered in hugs and kisses while trying to make breakfast probably wasn't his best idea.
"Actually, I think he might have known," you said quietly. "I just..." You shook your head, knowing the grief and denial was taking hold.
"I should leave," said Connor. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, I'm just... shocked I suppose. I don't understand at all."
It confused you how his murderer could apologise but you realised that he had told you what had happened to Victor when he could have ignored the posters. You also could never tell the police, explaining it might land you in a mental asylum.
"Thank you for telling me, Connor," she said. "I'm thankful but yes, you should probably go." You shook hands before he left you alone to mourn.
What were you supposed to do now?