A/N: In Spyre's review, she brought up something that I really didn't think of. In QL, I don't think you do ever discover exactly the leapee does during Sam's leap, but the leapee's soul, mind, aura, or whatever, is inside Sam's body in a waiting room of sorts. I'm assuming that the people inside the QL project can talk to the leapee. I don't know how accurate that is to the show, but pretty much, I want to get into Curt's head and that's the only way to do it. Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed!
Chapter Four
"Assassinated?" Sam asked, eyes widening.
"Yes. Arthur Stuart is shot three days from now outside his workplace… The Herald. Tommy Stone is implicated, but never directly connected or charged with anything."
"Why would Tommy Stone want this Arthur guy dead?"
"Ziggy's working on it. I suggest you get yourself to where ever Arthur is and try to find out from him while Ziggy sorts through this mess."
"Curt Wild might know," Sam suggested, already heading back to the bedroom to change.
"He's being questioned, but we aren't sure how reliable he is. I mean, the guy's an ex-heroin addict and recovering alcoholic with severe emotional problems."
Sam paused at the door to the bedroom and looked back at Al. "Just find out. We don't have much time." He heard Al's chamber close behind him as he went to inquire about this Arthur.
Sam threw open Curt's closet, looking for something casual to wear. He wasn't surprised to find plenty of black, plenty of leather, and plenty of black leather. He dug around a bit for something more comfortable and finally emerged with a clean pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt, much like what he'd been wearing the night before. He dressed swiftly, then ran a brush through Curt's untamed locks, and tied them back. He barely stopped to look up the address of the Herald before charging out the door, heading for Arthur Stuart.
*
He was getting nothing done.
It had been like this all night, and all morning. He had writer's block. No, he corrected himself harshly, he had writer's Berlin Wall. And of course he knew the cause.
Curt Wild had been thrown back into his life like a hurricane, unchanged, so unlike the world around him, so unlike Arthur himself. He couldn't get his face out of his head. The night they'd spent together had been burned into his memory, but it had faded. Until last night.
Arthur sighed and lowered his head into his hands. The paper in front of him was blank except for the heading atop the page. He wanted to cover it with a tale of scandal and lies, a nation deceived. Instead, he knew he'd go along with the title he'd written: Stone Delivers.
There was a knock on his door; Arthur glanced at the clock on his desk before answering. It was 9:00. His deadline wasn't until noon. "Come in," he called, putting his head back in his hands.
"Arthur?" a voice asked from the door.
A familiar voice. Arthur froze, then lifted his head very slowly. Curt Wild stood in the doorway, posture unsure and face slightly nervous. Arthur blinked. "Curt? Uh, Mr. Wild?"
Curt seemed to relax a little and entered. "Curt's fine."
"What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly.
Curt sat in the chair across from him and stared into his eyes intently. "I think someone is trying to kill you."
Arthur's eyes widened for a moment; he opened his mouth to speak, then burst into laughter. "Me? Kill me? Why?"
Curt looked even more nervous. "I don't know."
"Are you high?" Arthur asked, gleeful smile on his face. It faded almost as soon as the words left his mouth, remembering a time the man before him had asked him that, albeit in a more seductive way.
"Look-" Curt began, not seeming to notice or remember.
That suddenly made Arthur mad and he stood up. "Mr. Wild, I don't need you to tell me allegations of murder; I'm a journalist, I report on that. So please, I have work to do."
Curt looked down, apparently saw the title on the otherwise blank page. "Tommy Stone?"
"Why do you think I was at the concert last night, fun?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "Please go."
Curt hesitated. He always hesitated before walking away. Arthur had noticed that ten years before. But he left, like he'd done then, and Arthur sat back down and resumed staring at a blank page.
*
The men watching the Herald from a black sedan parked at the curb, the men watching Arthur, didn't hear the conversation. But they saw Curt go in, and saw him come out ten minutes later. As Curt got on his motorcycle and moved into traffic, the driver turned to his companion. "It seems Mr. Stuart has Mr. Wild's assistance in his venture."
His companion nodded. "We'll have to step up the plan."
The driver put the car into gear and began to pull away from the curb. "Mr. Stone is not going to be happy."
Chapter Four
"Assassinated?" Sam asked, eyes widening.
"Yes. Arthur Stuart is shot three days from now outside his workplace… The Herald. Tommy Stone is implicated, but never directly connected or charged with anything."
"Why would Tommy Stone want this Arthur guy dead?"
"Ziggy's working on it. I suggest you get yourself to where ever Arthur is and try to find out from him while Ziggy sorts through this mess."
"Curt Wild might know," Sam suggested, already heading back to the bedroom to change.
"He's being questioned, but we aren't sure how reliable he is. I mean, the guy's an ex-heroin addict and recovering alcoholic with severe emotional problems."
Sam paused at the door to the bedroom and looked back at Al. "Just find out. We don't have much time." He heard Al's chamber close behind him as he went to inquire about this Arthur.
Sam threw open Curt's closet, looking for something casual to wear. He wasn't surprised to find plenty of black, plenty of leather, and plenty of black leather. He dug around a bit for something more comfortable and finally emerged with a clean pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt, much like what he'd been wearing the night before. He dressed swiftly, then ran a brush through Curt's untamed locks, and tied them back. He barely stopped to look up the address of the Herald before charging out the door, heading for Arthur Stuart.
*
He was getting nothing done.
It had been like this all night, and all morning. He had writer's block. No, he corrected himself harshly, he had writer's Berlin Wall. And of course he knew the cause.
Curt Wild had been thrown back into his life like a hurricane, unchanged, so unlike the world around him, so unlike Arthur himself. He couldn't get his face out of his head. The night they'd spent together had been burned into his memory, but it had faded. Until last night.
Arthur sighed and lowered his head into his hands. The paper in front of him was blank except for the heading atop the page. He wanted to cover it with a tale of scandal and lies, a nation deceived. Instead, he knew he'd go along with the title he'd written: Stone Delivers.
There was a knock on his door; Arthur glanced at the clock on his desk before answering. It was 9:00. His deadline wasn't until noon. "Come in," he called, putting his head back in his hands.
"Arthur?" a voice asked from the door.
A familiar voice. Arthur froze, then lifted his head very slowly. Curt Wild stood in the doorway, posture unsure and face slightly nervous. Arthur blinked. "Curt? Uh, Mr. Wild?"
Curt seemed to relax a little and entered. "Curt's fine."
"What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly.
Curt sat in the chair across from him and stared into his eyes intently. "I think someone is trying to kill you."
Arthur's eyes widened for a moment; he opened his mouth to speak, then burst into laughter. "Me? Kill me? Why?"
Curt looked even more nervous. "I don't know."
"Are you high?" Arthur asked, gleeful smile on his face. It faded almost as soon as the words left his mouth, remembering a time the man before him had asked him that, albeit in a more seductive way.
"Look-" Curt began, not seeming to notice or remember.
That suddenly made Arthur mad and he stood up. "Mr. Wild, I don't need you to tell me allegations of murder; I'm a journalist, I report on that. So please, I have work to do."
Curt looked down, apparently saw the title on the otherwise blank page. "Tommy Stone?"
"Why do you think I was at the concert last night, fun?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "Please go."
Curt hesitated. He always hesitated before walking away. Arthur had noticed that ten years before. But he left, like he'd done then, and Arthur sat back down and resumed staring at a blank page.
*
The men watching the Herald from a black sedan parked at the curb, the men watching Arthur, didn't hear the conversation. But they saw Curt go in, and saw him come out ten minutes later. As Curt got on his motorcycle and moved into traffic, the driver turned to his companion. "It seems Mr. Stuart has Mr. Wild's assistance in his venture."
His companion nodded. "We'll have to step up the plan."
The driver put the car into gear and began to pull away from the curb. "Mr. Stone is not going to be happy."