The Start of a Beautiful Relationship
Rated ~ PG
Disclaimer ~ They aren't mine. :)
Author's Note ~ This is really more of a character study than anything, to kind of get the feel for a very young Rick in another realm. I'll let you decide if it works. The idea is based off the "Atlantis is Waiting..." RPG.
The streets were packed, people shoulder to shoulder, trying to squeeze through a marketplace that wasn't meant to hold even a fraction of the number pushing and shoving their way through. Perfect fodder. The child slipped through, more or less unnoticed. It was entirely understandable why he kept running into people. Of course, what the people didn't understand was the child lightened their load with each bump. Nearing the edge of the crowd, he made a break for a quiet alleyway. Pushing around a couple crates, he barricaded himself out of site, dumping his loot to the cobblestones-- four billfolds, a couple of coin purses, and one fat wallet.
"Not a bad haul, Rickie." The boy jumped, his eyes darting up to the top of the crates, where a dark haired boy sat, staring down at him.
"Don't call me 'Rickie,' Saul," Rick said, venom lacing his young voice.
"You know, if they ever catch you, they're gonna cut off your hands," Saul said defiantly. "They don't like Americans."
"Yeah, but they've gotta catch me first. Your police are too dumb." Saul's face contorted.
"They are not!"
"Are too!"
"Are not! My daddy's a police and when I tell him where you hide, he's gonna come—"
"You ain't telling him!" Rick said, pushing himself up off the wet ground.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Oh yeah? Who's gonna make me?"
"No one's going to make you, idiot," Rick said with a roll of his eyes. "But I'm gonna stop you."
"For twenty."
"No way. Steal your own."
"Daddy!!"
"All right! All right!!" Rick said, snatching a couple bills out of one of the billfolds. "Take it and shut up." Saul grabbed the money, leaping off the crates.
"See ya 'round, Rickie," he shouted as he ran down the alley.
"Don't call me 'Rickie'!!"
After counting what had remained of his stolen money, Rick kicked his way down the street, pushing past people. To keep Saul quiet, he had given him more than half of what he had taken. He glanced around, trying to find one more hit before the day was out. His eyes fell on an American-looking woman. He walked up slowly behind where she sat as she stared off, reaching gingerly for the bag that sat beside her. Just as his hand landed silently on it, she turned, their eyes locking. Rick didn't waste a second, latching onto the bag and taking off down the street. "Hey!" the woman shouted, leaping up. The boy jet down the street, skidding around a corner. He threw himself against the wall, hiding in the shadows of the alley. He waited there a minute, trying to catch his breath. When the coast was clear, he stepped gingerly out of the alley, coming face to face with the woman leaning against the side of the building.
"Going somewhere with that?" she said, grabbing his ragged shirt collar. Rick's eyes grew wide, distracting her for a moment, as his foot shot out, landing square on her left shin. She dropped the boy with a grimace. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he was running again. "Little son of a bitch!" she cried out, taking off down the street after him. Rick pushed through the people, his small hands clasped tightly around the handles of the bag as he zigzagged through, glancing back occasionally to see the blonde still hot on his trail. He turned down another dark alley, followed closely by the blonde. She leapt for him, hitting the ground hard, but managed to latch on to his ankle. Rick hit the ground with a thud, the bag spilling across the alleyway. He didn't care about the bag anymore; he just wanted to get away from this madwoman. She dragged him back along the ground, scraping him his stomach and legs as he flailed, nailing her in the jaw. She flinched, but didn't let go, pinning his legs with her own, holding down his arms with her hands. She held him in place until he finally stopped squirming, staring straight up at her. "I'll give you credit kid," she started. "You've got more guts than men three times your age. But don't *ever* touch my stuff again, you got that?" Rick nodded, his eyes wide. She stood up slowly, cracking her jaw as she did so.
"So...you're not gonna turn me in?" Rick dared to ask, lifting his head off the pavement.
"I could," she said, placing her hands on her hips, "but what's the point?" She walked over him as he continued to lie on the ground, catching his breath. Grabbing her bag, she started throwing her stuff back in, surprised when there were two little hands holding her stuff out to her. "You got a name, kid?"
"Rick," the boy said. "O'Connell."
"Well, Rick...O'Connell, how old are you?" Innate curiosity was building.
"Seven."
"Seven. Not bad. Sloppy," she said, indicating to the contents of her bag strewn across the alley, "but not bad. You've got potential."
"You sound like you've done it before."
"I've done my fair share."
"Can you teach me?"
"Oh, no," she said, standing up. "No way. I am *not* going to play mother."
"I don't want a mom," Rick said defensively. "I want a teacher. I don't like living like this, but I ain't got much choice."
"Don't have, and I am not interested." She began walking down the alley, the bag thrown over her shoulder.
"Oh, come on!" Rick said, running up behind her. He stopped at the end of the alley, watching her walk down the street. "Are you really going to leave me like this?"
"Yes."
"Look," he said, running up along side her. "I don't eat much, I can stay out of the way, and I learn quickly. Come on, you said yourself I've got potential. I just need someone to teach me. Let's talk over dinner."
"Oh no," she said, stopping. She turned to the child with wide eyes. "I am not being asked to dinner by a seven year old." She shook her head, massaging her temple for a moment. "And just how do you propose you pay for dinner?" Rick reached into his pocket, pulling out the wad of bills.
"Like this," he replied. She covered her eyes, running her hand down her face. Something inside was telling her she was not going to be able to say no to this kid.
"Fine. We'll talk, but I'm not making any promises." She turned, walking up the street without him.
"Hey, I don't even know your name."
"Jenkins," she answered. "Helga Jenkins."