Author's Note: A 2004-set AU fic, in which Richie Ryan lives and Joe Dawson
was killed in a car crash the previous year. Yes, the same disclaimer
applies.
blackblade: In simplest terms, *slash* is a fan-fictional term to describe a relationship between two people of the same-sex. The relationship will involve some sexual contact, whether as innocent as kissing, or something more detailed, described, and imagined. (I only infer to those more imagined acts, but never put to writing).
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September 09, 2004, 2300 PM, the apartment of Richie Ryan
Setting his plate and the beer bottle on the newspaper-cluttered coffee table, Richie padded to the door. He half-expected it to be either Mac or Methos (come to claim a beer), and he half-hoped it would be Joe. But Mac and Methos were otherwise engaged, and Joe would never come calling on him again.
He glanced quickly through the peephole, but could see no one, and somewhat hesitantly, -mentally cursing himself for not having his sword, for he could feel the tell-tale buzz -he pulled open the door, and gave a quick sweep of the long-ish corridor. The strange girl from the bar was slumped against the opposite wall, grinning up at him, embarrassed.
"Lost, Asher?" he asked, only slightly surprised he remembered her name.
"Half. I followed you home. I saw you from the restaurant window, and guessed you were looking for me."
"Which restaurant?"
"Somewhere near the Eiffel Tower. I stood on top there for hours, watching the city. Paris is beautiful from there."
Richie smiled. He agreed. "You have a fascination with the Eiffel Tower?"
"Something like that," she answered hurriedly.
He was hesitant to invite her in. He was not sure if he should be disturbed or flattered she had followed him, and there was still the issue of her Immortality. Just because he had not yet seen a sword, did not mean she did not have one hidden somewhere.
He decided to take the risk.
"Well, we cannot have you sleeping in the hallway, Asher Jacobs. Come inside. At least, it is warm and dry."
Asher smiled, and thanked him mutely. Using the wall, and disregarding Richie's offered hand, she pulled herself up, and mutely followed him inside. She only jumped slightly when the door closed behind them.
Richie gave her the once-over, and noticed she was still wet from her Eiffel Tower visit. Briefly, he entertained the thought of taking some of her hair into his fingers, but she seemed too skittish for human contact. He was amused. Twice now he had seen her today, and both times was coming in from the rain.
"Have a seat," he offered. "I was about to watch a movie."
She smiled her thanks, and sat on the couch edge. Richie sprawled in true Methos style, and took up again his belated and now slightly cold dinner. He took a bite, swallowed, and asked Asher if she wanted anything: food, drink.
There was no answer. He turned, and found her slumped against the armrest, asleep. He smiled, and stood, (once again, placing his dinner on the coffee table), and returned with a blanket for her. She stirred, and he took a step back, and muted the movie.
He had seen it before, and knew most the lines by heart.
blackblade: In simplest terms, *slash* is a fan-fictional term to describe a relationship between two people of the same-sex. The relationship will involve some sexual contact, whether as innocent as kissing, or something more detailed, described, and imagined. (I only infer to those more imagined acts, but never put to writing).
**************************************************************************** *********************
September 09, 2004, 2300 PM, the apartment of Richie Ryan
Setting his plate and the beer bottle on the newspaper-cluttered coffee table, Richie padded to the door. He half-expected it to be either Mac or Methos (come to claim a beer), and he half-hoped it would be Joe. But Mac and Methos were otherwise engaged, and Joe would never come calling on him again.
He glanced quickly through the peephole, but could see no one, and somewhat hesitantly, -mentally cursing himself for not having his sword, for he could feel the tell-tale buzz -he pulled open the door, and gave a quick sweep of the long-ish corridor. The strange girl from the bar was slumped against the opposite wall, grinning up at him, embarrassed.
"Lost, Asher?" he asked, only slightly surprised he remembered her name.
"Half. I followed you home. I saw you from the restaurant window, and guessed you were looking for me."
"Which restaurant?"
"Somewhere near the Eiffel Tower. I stood on top there for hours, watching the city. Paris is beautiful from there."
Richie smiled. He agreed. "You have a fascination with the Eiffel Tower?"
"Something like that," she answered hurriedly.
He was hesitant to invite her in. He was not sure if he should be disturbed or flattered she had followed him, and there was still the issue of her Immortality. Just because he had not yet seen a sword, did not mean she did not have one hidden somewhere.
He decided to take the risk.
"Well, we cannot have you sleeping in the hallway, Asher Jacobs. Come inside. At least, it is warm and dry."
Asher smiled, and thanked him mutely. Using the wall, and disregarding Richie's offered hand, she pulled herself up, and mutely followed him inside. She only jumped slightly when the door closed behind them.
Richie gave her the once-over, and noticed she was still wet from her Eiffel Tower visit. Briefly, he entertained the thought of taking some of her hair into his fingers, but she seemed too skittish for human contact. He was amused. Twice now he had seen her today, and both times was coming in from the rain.
"Have a seat," he offered. "I was about to watch a movie."
She smiled her thanks, and sat on the couch edge. Richie sprawled in true Methos style, and took up again his belated and now slightly cold dinner. He took a bite, swallowed, and asked Asher if she wanted anything: food, drink.
There was no answer. He turned, and found her slumped against the armrest, asleep. He smiled, and stood, (once again, placing his dinner on the coffee table), and returned with a blanket for her. She stirred, and he took a step back, and muted the movie.
He had seen it before, and knew most the lines by heart.