AN: Be kind, although I love EE, I've only seen about six episodes, so I don't know the whole deal with the papers. If someone does, please let me know in the review and this story will be edited or deleted as appropriate.
The Apprentice
"Meow!"
Gary flung a pillow in roughly the direction of the door. It was too early. He didn't want to. Why couldn't Chicago just save itself for a change?
"Meow!"
"All right, I'm coming," he muttered, stumbled out of bed, opened the door and grabbed the paper. A cream colored envelope fell off of it. He picked it up too and the cat came inside before he shut the door. He scanned the front page briefly. Nothing life threatening, some bad traffic and some boring local interest articles. He continued reading the paper. When he finished, he checked the date again. January 12th. He checked the calendar. January 11th. So this was the correct paper but there was nothing important happening? Yet, he thought, before the prospect of a free day went to his head. Then he picked up the envelope. There was no writing on it so he opened it. A single sheet of white paper was inside and it was folded over a plane ticket.
Mr. Gary Hobson(Sun-Times Chicago):
Your presence is requested in Washington for our annual convention. Please be prompt and wear sensible clothing. We look forward to meeting you. Your ticket is enclosed.
And there it was, a return trip ticket departing Chicago for BWI. In his name. As if the 'invitation' wasn't strange enough! There was a knock at the door.
"Who is it?" he called.
"It's me," someone with a vaguely foreign accent replied.
Gary didn't recognize the voice. "'Me' who?"
"Mr. Hobson, our flight leaves in two hours, please don't tell me you forgot!"
Gary crossed the room. If this was someone's idea of a joke- He opened the door. A petite girl with long red hair stood in the doorway. Gary felt positive he'd never met her before. She smiled at him. "Anthea Smythe, London Guardian. Pleased to meet you." Then she frowned. "Oh dear, you did forget, didn't you?"
"Forget what?" he asked, feeling dazed and acutely aware of the fact that he was in his nightclothes conducting a conversation with a complete stranger standing in his doorway.
"I'm your apprentice."
"'Apprentice?'"
The girl sighed and pulled a newspaper from the black satchel she wore cross-wise. "London Guardian, January 12th," she said. "Nothing important. They give us a day to get to the convention."
"'They'?"
"Look, Mr. Hobson, I'm beginning to wonder who's supposed to be teaching whom? If you're worried about security, we have the same job!" the girl said, looking frustrated. "Get some clothes on, pack up and I'll tell you everything I know- which isn't much- on the plane!"
