Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Davis/Panzer. They are being borrowed and returned hopefully in about the same shape they were taken in. Jeff, Emmy, and just about everyone else, belong to me. You can use them if you like, just return them please.
Author's Note: I wrote this story in November of 2010 for Nanowrimo If you are like me, and like to have a mental image for people, Emmy is a green-eyed Jessica Alba, and Jeff Read is Jensen Ackles. At least, if this ever became a TV show, that's who I would want to play them.
This story is completely written, it has a being middle and end (though I won't at this point call it finished) and will all end up on here sooner or later. It is being Beta'd by the best Beta in the world who I will call Miss Sillivan! I am so grateful she can read my mind!
Chapter 1
It was a clear, sunny morning in May. Rick Cloud, the Immortal formerly known as Richie Ryan, had moved to Florida four years ago. He had thought the weather would be nothing but beautiful sunsets and sunny days with the occasional showers. No one had warned him that it would rain cats and dogs the entire day. This was especially true during the summer months of June and July. Today, however, was one of those perfect days that are seen in all the vacation videos.
Rick parked his bike on the sidewalk and began opening the gate that protected his shop. That was the other thing that had really surprised him about Florida: it had a pretty high crime rate. He hadn't really expected that; especially not in a smaller city like Fort Myers. Then again, he'd originally wanted to move to Miami so, technically, he couldn't complain.
He was a motorcycle repair shop owner. It was small, but always busy. If there was one nice thing about Florida, it was that a person could ride a motorcycle all year long. No one worried too much about the weather. For Rick it also meant having a larger clientele.
On top of being known as the best bike mechanic in town, Rick was also a private detective. He liked making a little extra cash on the side. As an immortal, he could use some danger in his life to keep him sharp.
Today, his day started like any other: with a couple of bikes to repair. Later he had an appointment with Mrs. Chase. Jeff Read, his partner and best friend, would be there for the meeting. Jeff's presence always calmed him. Yes, Rick was in a great mood. He felt he was ready for anything.
By mid-afternoon, he was almost positive today would be a typical day. Around five in the evening, he would close the shop. After closing, he would do more digging into the kidnapping investigation they were working on. It was the only other case they had, aside from Mrs. Chase's not cheating husband.
Rick had to laugh to himself about the 'Chase' case. Oh, Mr. Chase was up to something all right, but it definitely wasn't an affair…unless he was gay and into men ten years older than himself. Not that this was impossible in the grand scheme of things.
The kidnapping case, though, was the case on his mind as he took the tires off of a Kawasaki Vulcan. The case Jeff had taken without consulting him. Well, that case, and his past. Back in 2006, when he first moved to Florida, he'd had very few clients. Rick knew that was normal for a new small business, and he had been fine with it. After all, he'd made plenty of money before moving to Florida. The point was to "retire", in a sense.
That was in the beginning. Then, he had fixed the bike of some guy from one of the two local gangs. The other gang told Rick to back off…but that was not his style. He'd been taught a lot of martial arts during his first five or so years of being Immortal. He had continued to improve and practice even after the lessons had ended. Threats didn't go over well. He'd made an impression on the gang leaders. Afterward, he informed both sides that he was Switzerland. Anybody could come to his shop to get their bike fixed. Now, everyone came there, and everyone was referred there too. No one fixed bikes except Rick. There were other mechanics capable of it, but no one was willing to face the threat of the gangs. It didn't even matter if it was a tire replacement. You didn't go to a tire store. You came to Rick's Bike Repair. Rick had a vast clientele now. So vast, he had two other mechanics working at the shop with him. It bothered him, sometimes, that other honest mechanics were under threat for doing something as simple as changing a tire… As he was thinking this, the front door opened, the bell ringing, and a familiar sensation swept over him.
Rick's first thought was that his sword was in the office; where he usually kept it. He tightened his grip on the wrench in his hand and stood up, looking towards the lobby. He walked into the lobby and found a young-seeming woman standing by the door. The woman was wearing a lightweight, blue trench coat, despite the fact that it was seventy-five degrees outside. Rick's posture remained rigid and he continued to grip the wrench. The woman was carrying a sword in her trench coat. Rick could tell by the way it hung slightly lower on one side than the other. "Can I help you?" He asked, still on the defensive. He wanted his sword.
The woman smiled. She looked very young. People would probably guess her to be somewhere between eighteen and twenty-two…but Rick knew that meant nothing. She was an immortal. She could be thousands of years old. She had light, olive skin, which made her look European. Her hair was black and curly. She also had the deepest green eyes Rick had ever seen. "Yes, actually, I think you can," she replied in answer to his query. "Are you Rick Cloud?"
Rick nodded. "That's what everyone around here calls me."
The woman smiled again. It was an enchanting smile: the kind that pulled you in. "Well, it seems, Mr. Cloud, that you are the only person in this entire area who knows how to fix a motorcycle."
Rick laughed wryly. "Then you were referred by more than one mechanic, I take it."
"There are three much closer to my apartment building. Yet, not a single one would take my bike. Quite a business you must be running."
He tone seemed light, but the facts still stung his pride. Rick shrugged. "I get by." He was still holding the wrench with a tight grip. Immortals could be deceiving.
The woman took off her trench coat and laid it on a chair. There was an audible clink as steel hit steel. It was a gesture of good faith. "My name is Emerald Wallace, but most people call me Emmy." She paused as if waiting for a reply; when it didn't come she continued. "I would really appreciate it if you could have a look at my bike."
"Any idea what's wrong with it?" Rick asked, loosening his grip on the wrench and walking forward. He moved closer to Emmy, but stopped just shy of a sword's length from her.
"Not a clue. I have never owned a bike before. It was sort of a fling…you see my husband recently passed away."
"I'm sorry to hear that. How long were you married?" He was proud of how naturally he could ask that question.
"Fifty years. He wasn't one of us, but was a good man all the same." She looked wistful.
He smiled, slightly soothed by the emotion in her expression. "Well, is the bike here? Can I take a look?"
"Sure." Emmy led the way out the front door to her bike, which was sitting in a parking spot on the street.
"Did you ride it here?" Rick asked, as he walked toward it.
"No, the last garage I visited brought it for me. They told me to go get you while they unloaded it."
Rick nodded. "Do you have the key on you?"
"Yeah, catch." Emmy tossed the key to him.
He caught it and immediately put it in. He started the engine, but could tell right away by the sound of it that something was wrong. Turning it off again, he held onto the key, and headed back inside. Looking over his shoulder at her, he began talking. "It looks like it just needs regular maintenance. It's a 2007 Harley Super Glide, right?"
"Yes," Emmy said. "So, what exactly is maintenance?"
"Clean everything inside off. Put in new spark plugs. It's the same thing you should do for a car every 6 months. It's just that if you don't do it on a motorcycle then things get dicey." He turned to look at Emmy. "Let me open the garage door and I'll wheel her inside. It might be a couple days before I get to her, though. Do you have other transportation?"
Emmy nodded.
"Good. Then I'll leave you with Mike for a sec so you can fill out some paperwork."
Emmy laughed. "Okay, then."
Rick stopped. "Have I said something funny?"
"Not exactly; it's just…you are all business."
"Well, you did come here to get your bike fixed, right?"
"Yes, but…" Emmy stopped, and shook her head slightly, "never mind. Thank you for your help, Mr. Cloud."
"You're welcome." Rick headed back into the garage and called for Mike.
"Yeah, boss?" Mike asked as he came running up to Rick.
"Go help the young lady with her paperwork and send her on her way."
Mike looked through the door. His eyes shone with appreciation. "Thank you, sir!"
Rick rolled his eyes. "Try hard to look professional, will you?"
"Absolutely," Mike replied, grinning.
Rick went to the garage door and hit a button to open it. Then, he went outside and grabbed Emmy's bike. He wondered what she was doing with a motorcycle. It was obvious she knew nothing about them. Some form of immortal mid-life crisis after the death of her husband, perhaps?
Just as Rick began rolling the bike into the garage, he heard another woman's voice call his name. This time it was a voice he recognized, and was, more or less, expecting. He turned to greet her, setting the bike back on its kickstand. "Mrs. Chase, you're early. I thought you were going to be here at four-thirty."
"I was supposed to; but then I made an appointment with my manicurist, and the only good time for her today was four-thirty. It was rather last minute, you know. An emergency happened this morning, and I just have to get it fixed. I figured I'd just come by early and see what you have. That's all right, isn't it?"
Mrs. Chase was a millionaire's wife. She was drop-dead gorgeous and she knew it. Even now, in her forties, she was exceedingly vain. You fit things into her schedule, or you didn't fit them in at all.
She had noticed her husband acting strangely, recently. She thought he was having an affair. She found Rick's detective company in the yellow pages, and started having Rick follow her husband in the evenings. What Mrs. Chase didn't know was that she'd been totally wrong. Her husband hadn't been having an affair at all. What he was doing was quite different.
"Well, I have a lot I can tell you," said Rick, "but my partner and photographer Jeff—you remember Jeff: lovely brown hair, pretty green eyes—he's not going to be here with the pictures for at least another ten minutes."
"Well, whatever you have will do, I suppose." Mrs. Chase sighed. "Though I was really hoping to see the pictures."
Rick nodded. "If you can just head into my office, I'll take this bike into the garage and get cleaned up."
"Of course, dear; I'll go straight in." As Mrs. Chase made her way to his office, Rick couldn't help chuckling to himself. The whole process with her had been one of the most amusing ventures of his investigative career. She was such an interesting woman.
With the bike squared away and his hands clean, he went through the lobby to go to his office and found Mrs. Chase had not gone there after all, but was chatting with Emmy.
"Well, my dear, if you ever think about it, you really must call me. I'm a wonderful agent, you know. I can get you into any modeling company you want. You have the most beautiful eyes." Mrs. Chase handed Emmy a card, which the other woman graciously accepted, and then Mrs. Chase headed toward Rick.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Cloud, dear, but she is so beautiful. Isn't she just striking? I would just die if I could get her to sign with me. Can't you see her on a magazine cover? Those cheekbones, that hair, those eyes!" Mrs. Chase clapped her hands together. "Just gorgeous! You must ask her out, Mr. Cloud. She is just too stunning."
"Mrs. Chase; I'm not in the habit of asking out my customers. It's not professional." Rick sat behind his desk and pulled out the file on Mr. Chase to show her.
She would not be deterred. "But certainly for a beauty like that you could make an exception. I mean, honestly, Mr. Cloud. . .a man as handsome and mature as you really should get married." As was her habit, she was already sitting down, and lighting up a cigarette.
Rick often reflected that the woman had been born just a few years too late. He could just imagine her in a black dress, white gloves that went to the elbows, with an old-fashioned cigarette holder in her hand. She even talked like a '40s movie star. He responded calmly, "I'll give it some thought. Now, let's talk about your husband. He's not cheating."
Mrs. Chase sat up. "Oh? Then he's not having secret meetings at The Edison?"
"I didn't say that. I just said that he wasn't cheating—unless he's turned gay, anyway. The secret meetings he's been having at The Edison every Thursday for the past four weeks have been with a lawyer by the name of John Arnold." Rick pulled out a paper that had the esteemed Mr. Arnold's picture on it, along with a list of the man's accomplishments and past sins. The sins were lacking. If he was corrupt, then he had gotten away with it so far.
Mrs. Chase grabbed the paper and clutched her hand to her chest. "Then he's planning to divorce me! How dreadful when I love him so much."
Jeff came through the office door right then, and Rick was glad to see him. Jeff cast him a quick grin before schooling his features to a professional smile and spoke to her. "Really, Mrs. Chase, I think you're far too worried. Mr. Arnold is a lot of things, but a divorce lawyer isn't one of them. As far as we can tell, he's an estate attorney. Here." Jeff set a stack of photographs on the desk. The top one showed two men sitting at a table in The Edison, a classy restaurant in the city.
While Mrs. Chase was looking at the photos, Jeff mouthed to Rick, "Who's the hottie?" and indicated Emmy in the lobby with a casual turn of his shoulder.
Rick rolled his eyes. "Tell you later," he mouthed back, just as Mrs. Chase began to speak.
"How do you know he's not doing a divorce special for my husband?" She looked worried.
"Because, Mrs. Chase," Jeff began, sliding into the chair beside her, "I called his office as if I was a client. Mr. Arnold refuses to take on any divorce cases whatsoever; it's a private policy of his. I guess he doesn't approve, or something. He's been married for thirty-five years." Jeff rifled through the photos, pulling out one from the bottom. "This is a picture of Mr. Arnold with his wife, Maria. Also, his focus seems to be in drawing up wills or handling estate settlements. I wish I could give you the official names, but I'm not a lawyer. Basically, what we are saying is that your husband isn't having an affair or trying to leave you. It seems he's decided to make a will. Why he's kept that from you I couldn't say; but I doubt it was done in order to leave you out of it. Besides, you've made enough money on your own to not even have to worry about needing any of his."
Mrs. Chase nodded. "Do you think you could find out what it is my husband's doing, then?" Mrs. Chase stood, getting into her purse.
"Well, that's the tricky part," replied Rick. He and Jeff stood as well. Mrs. Chase always insisted on good manners. If you wanted to work for her, you learned that quickly. "We'd have to enter the restaurant and sit practically right next to him to find out anything; or break into the lawyer's office. This is legal information we're talking about, and it's kept pretty confidential. Perhaps you can just ask your husband why he's making a will."
"What? No. David would never allow that. He's very reserved about matters of business. I couldn't possibly ask him to tell me. It would upset his delicate nature; he'd think I didn't trust him."
The sheer irony of that statement caused the two men exchange amused glances, then Rick spoke again. "Of course, Mrs. Chase; but this sort of information is a lot harder to get ahold of."
"Whatever the cost, I will cover it." She pulled out a large stack of bills from her purse; and set it on the desk, splitting it in half. "That's two thousand apiece for the first two weeks, and I'll bring in a second batch sometime later in the week. I can't take it out all at once, or David might notice."
Rick nodded. "Well, Mrs. Chase, I guess we'll be seeing you again. In the meantime, I hope your nail appointment is a success."
"Thank you so much, Mr. Cloud. You are a doll. Oh, and you, too, Jeff." She stroked Jeff's chin. "Such beautiful eyes." With that, she left the room and headed out to her car.
When she was well out of hearing distance, they looked at each other again. "I really thought they stopped making women like that in the '40s, but apparently I was wrong," Jeff said, rubbing at his chin as if to remove something that was left there.
Rick laughed. "Yeah, she does give off the feeling that she just stepped out of an old time movie."
"So," Jeff said, "tell me about the girl in the lobby; she's gorgeous."
"She's immortal," Rick said flatly.
"Really?" Jeff asked excitement to rival a puppy filled his voice. "What's her name? I'll look her up."
"No," Rick said, his tone even. "She's a client, nothing more. Now, if you don't mind, I'm not partial to having other immortals around. I think I'm going to send her on her way."
"Oh, come on Ric-k! Why? She's pretty; and you used to hang out with other immortals all the time." Jeff always called him Ric-k when they were alone. It was an inside joke: Jeff's way of reminding Rick that he knew it wasn't his real name. There was a flicker of frustration in his eyes, too for he was a Watcher, and now to look her up he would have to be less than a friend.
"That was then. This is now. Now, I'm extremely happy with my boring life as a private detective and bike repairman. Besides," he continued his train of thought, "when has Rick Cloud ever been known to hang out with other immortals? Name me one time, aside from the occasional discussion with Marcus." Rick folded his arms and tried to both loom and glower.
Jeff bit his lip and looked sheepish, as Rick knew he would. "Okay, so it would be a bit out of character for Rick Cloud, but considering the inducement, I don't think anyone would think it wasthat odd."
"That anyone wouldn't happen to be your little group of poker buddies would it?" Rick felt a pang of hurt at this reminder that Jeff was not simply a friend, but had an ulterior motive for being near him.
Jeff sighed, and in that moment Rick was reminded of how young Jeff was. "Look, you know I've kept your secret from Headquarters. Why can't a little bit of Richie Ryan come back to play? No one but you and I will know."
That was a bit like taking a blade to the stomach. He had to swallow that pain. "Richie Ryan is buried in Paris; remember. So how about you let me be, okay?" He was trying to temper his frustration with the Watcher side of Jeff.
Jeff sighed dramatically. "Whatever, I have to get to the paper anyway. You have anything important happen recently that I should add to your file?"
Ah. Transparency as a peace offering. Rick looked at Jeff wryly. "Do I ever have anything to add when you're not here? Jeff, you are the only reason I get into trouble. You are the most impetuous Watcher I've ever met."
"Which isn't saying a lot; you haven't met very many of us." Jeff gave him a cheeky grin.
"Yeah…well most Watchers aren't Peter Parker on the side." Rick headed for the door. "Now, I really need to do something about Ms. Wallace, if you don't mind."
Jeff absorbed the name for later research. "Of course not; I'll come with. Like I said, I need to get out of here, anyway."
Rick walked up to the counter and smiled rather toothily at Mike and Emmy. "Mike, you gonna finish putting that bike back together today or not?"
Mike immediately headed for the garage, "Sorry Rick. She's just a sweetheart," He called back over his shoulder.
"Really, Mr. Cloud, it was my fault. I can be really charming when I want to be, and well, it's hard to resist for some." Emmy was leaning against the counter, her trench coat slung over her arms.
"Don't worry about it Ms. Wallace; Mike's not really in trouble. I just thought it was time he got back to work for the day." Rick leaned against the counter as well, his manner still slightly hostile. "Now tell me… what else can I do for you?"
The hostility of Rick's stance didn't seem to bother the Immortal in front of him. "I was just wondering if you'd like to have lunch sometime. After all, I'm new to the area; I'd like to get to know some of the… people."
Rick smiled politely. "No, thank you, Ms. Wallace. I'm sure there are lots of nice young men, like Mike, who would be happy to get to know you better, and could tell you all about the… people."
"Or me," Jeff said, taking Emmy's arm. "I'm Jeff Read, one of Rick's business partners; and I'd be more than happy to take you to any place in the city." Jeff was leading Emmy out by now, but it didn't stop Rick from drilling a scowl into the back of the young man's head.