A/N: One thing before we start. Cain is immortal, for reasons I have yet to explain. See end of chapter for other notes.

Cain sat huddled in the corner of what had become his coffee shop, glaring at his laptop's screen and clicking impatiently. He was most certainly not sulking. Still, the amount of money this contraption had cost him ought to have meant it was capable of downloading blueprints and security schematics faster than this…

Blindly, he reached for his coffee and narrowly avoided knocking it over. Technology made organization and planning ahead that much easier, but actually pulling it off much more difficult. Forensics had improved, but Cain had watched so many of these systems develop. It wasn't impossible to find workarounds, or alternatives. Or sometimes invent them…

"Could I please just have some coffee?" Cain's attention snapped away from his computer and to the man at the counter, who was struggling with the unfamiliar format of a Starbucks menu. "N-no, just… just coffee. With as much caffeine as possible-someone ordered espresso shots earlier? As an addition? Some of those, too?" The barista looked as confused as he did. He rallied.

"How many, sir?"

"…How many is allowed? Eight, let's just… go with that. A venti is large, isn't it? That. Venti of your pick of the day with eight shots of espresso. That works." The man paid, stumbled back out of the line, and rubbed at his eyes. He was tall, blond, and dressed professionally, though his tie was loosened and his shirt was wrinkled and Cain was still staring, but…

But he knew that voice, that face, and it was absolutely impossible and yet…

"Riff!" the barista called, and Cain almost broke his lap top in the rush to get it out of the way so he could offer this man a seat, as the sharp winter wind had driven more people than usual into the coffee shop. This man shared his love's name and love's face and apparently his love's complete inability to actually take care of his own needs when left to his own devices… The man had straightened and collected his coffee with something very much like desperation, and was now nervously glancing around. He had probably hoped to pause for a few minutes before braving the January winds outside.

Casual, he had to be casual, if he was too eager… "Over here," Cain called, lifting a hand. "More than enough room for a second person, and it's freezing outside."

The blond sagged into his chair, setting the coffee down in front of him. "Thank you," he murmured, carefully removing the lid and blowing lightly at it.

"Are you thanking me for the seat or the gods for your coffee?" Cain observed, raising one eyebrow. He was having difficulty not looking at him, but, well, that was perfectly acceptable. Riff had always been so attractive, and he was actually mussed, in public-Cain swallowed.

Riff smiled slightly, chanced a careful sip, and hissed as he burnt himself. "Both, I suppose. I've been up for almost twenty straight hours… I've actually never been in a Starbucks before," he admitted.

"Really? In today's modern world, I'm not sure if that's deserving of commendation or condemnation," Cain commented, drawing one foot under him, more so his knee would stop twitching nervously. He kept his hands firmly in his lap, to prevent them tangling in Riff's hair.

"I found an independent shop my first week in the city, and have frequented it ever since. The cold has made their pipes burst, so they've closed for the next week while the plumbing is repaired," he explained, attempting another sip, slower this time. "I usually go there when I get off shift, but…" An eloquent shrug.

"So it's not unusual for you to be up for twenty hours? Really, Riff, you ought to take better care of yourself," he scolded, frowning.

Riff blinked at him in some confusion. "How did you know my name?"

Cain could have shot himself. "The barista called it," he explained easily, "And I'd never seen anyone so desperate for caffeine before. Besides, it's a bit of an odd name."

Another wry smile. "I suppose it is. My mother said it was a family name. An uncle of mine had it-great uncle or great great uncle…" He shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't know your name?"

"Cain. Yes, yes, my parents were insane," he said easily, rolling his eyes. "I know, believe me. But it really is Cain."

"Well, Cain, it's very nice to meet you," Riff offered a hand and a smile that still seemed half asleep. Cain laughed, and took it. His hands were still chilled from the walk, but only slightly, not corpse-cold. Living. Alive, he was here and alive… Cain blinked himself away of the thought and forced a smile.

"You never did answer my question. Where on earth do you work, that demands you deprive yourself of sleep?" he asked, settling back in his chair again and determined to take advantage of Riff's exhaustion to get as much information out of him as possible.

"Oh, I'm a pediatric surgeon. Twenty hour shifts isn't so usual, but last night was rough, so I stayed on longer than I should have to help out. In my defense, I got a few hours of sleep in the call room... Though I can hardly call that a bed."

"A… a surgeon," Cain said, and bit his lip against a proud smile. A doctor. He was a doctor, he'd finished his schooling-finally, over a hundred years too late, but… "That's wonderful. Do you enjoy it?"

"Yes. Well, usually. I operate on children, you see, and… well, I hate that these kids need it. But when I can help them be better… and some of them are so strong, you know, and have been through so much-that's the important part, anyway. Helping them." He ducked his head, and sipped at his coffee. It was apparently cooler by now, or at least not hot enough to burn him, as he took another, longer drink, and sighed with relief. "I'm pathetically addicted to caffeine, I'm sorry," he apologized. He already looked a little more aware, sitting straighter in his seat. One hand rose and absently straightened his tie.

Cain waved him off, not at all focusing on his hands and the silk. "We all have our vices. You sound like you truly love your job, though. I'm glad, hardly anyone does."

Riff shrugged, swirling the coffee in his cup. "I like helping people," he explained quietly. "That's all. What about you?"

"Oh, not a great deal. I inherited money from my father, so I follow my whims. That and the stock market," Cain added with a wry smile. "Not nearly as productive or helpful as you. Though I patronize some charities."

"Well, if you enjoy it," Riff countered, giving him another warm smile. Cain swallowed hard. He couldn't cry, not here, not now…

"You mentioned an independent coffee shop earlier?" Cain asked. "Where about? I might have to start going. I'm getting sick of Starbucks."

"Two blocks south, turn-" Riff paused. "Turn left. Sorry, I'm usually coming at it from the other way… It's called… of all things, it's called "Brewed Awakening," but their coffee is really good?"

Cain laughed. "No, Riff, you don't understand. The quickest way to win me over is horrible puns. I definitely have to try it now." He smiled again, almost helplessly. It really was him. Cain had never imagined he'd see him again, and here he was…

"Well, good," Riff said awkwardly, returning to his coffee. "They have better tea, anyway, and their prices are lower." He shrugged, and started affixing the lid to his coffee.

"You're leaving already?" Cain tried to sound casual, not upset, but Riff smiled apologetically at him anyway.

"I'm afraid so. I'd hoped to get some of my charts done before sleeping in a real bed… It was nice meeting you, Cain."

"You, too. I'll probably run into you again, if I start going to your usual coffee store," he added teasingly. He would definitely run into him again, he had to. The tips of his fingers were tingling, and he wanted nothing more than to touch him, to attach himself to this man again, and never let him go, to make Riff want him, need him… to take care of him and make sure he got enough sleep and remembered to actually eat, that he wouldn't work so hard… but Riff had smiled again and left, coffee cup still clutched in his hand.

Cain buried his face in his arms, and struggled against tears a hundred and twenty years late in coming.

A/N: ...I need to stop making more alternate universes... And to stop reincarnating them. It's almost getting cliche.

So this one came about because I have written immortal Riff waiting for Cain before, but had yet to think of what the other way around might be like. Also because Riff is a chronic workaholic in whatever life, and then this scene leapt into my head, practically fully formed, and... Yeah. This is another AU that I have only a couple more chapters of before wrapping it up entirely, and I don't anticipate it being long. I DO (kind of) have an explanation for immortal Cain... Or at least more info about what he's been doing (aside from his vigilanteism) and things that happened immediately post-series. However, I kind of want to reread the end of the series before going into too much detail, and I also don't want to reread the end of the series at all. There will be more eventually written... But hopefully only after I've (finally) finished When I Waked. Which WILL be done next chapter. I swear. It's just taking a while to finish said next chapter...

Anyway, though... Today (or perhaps yesterday, by the time I post this) is my 22nd birthday, so I'm posting this chapter as a gift to all of you! I hope you all enjoy.

Finally, as always, read and review!