Author's Note: An AU fic in which Richie Ryan lives, and Joe Dawson was
killed the previous year. The Immortal Men (Duncan MacLeod, Methos/Adam
Pierson, and Richie Ryan) do not belong to me, and neither do I own Amanda
nor Nick Wolfe. Asher Jacobs is mine.
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September 09 2004, 2330PM, the apartment of Richie Ryan
He paid more attention to the sleeping Asher than he did to the movie. It was James Bond -From Russia With Love- and the actor who played Bond looked like a young Ramirez. (He had never met Ramirez, but he had seen the rare sketch).
He had seen the movie countless times before. On Thanksgiving weekend 2002, he, Mac, and Methos had camped at Joe's and watched a James Bond movie marathon. Joe successfully burned the turkey, and they had ordered pizza and salads, and a slightly drunk Methos had tried to claim he *knew* James Bond.
Richie sighed. Those were good memories.
Asher stirred, and mumbled in her sleep. Strands of her still damp strawberry-blonde hair fell across his cheek, and gently Richie pushed the strands behind her ear. She reached for his hand but still did not awake, and after a forever moment, he pried his hand away. She protested, but still she did not awake.
Gently, he moved her legs onto the couch (so she was now almost horizontal, instead of in the slumped sitting position she had been in), and tucked the blanket around her. Briefly, Asher opened her eyes, and caught Richie's gaze, mumbled something incoherently and closed her eyes again. She had eyes of the clearest blue.
Switching the television off, he took his now cold dinner and still nearly-full beer, and treaded into the kitchen. For the second time, he microwaved his dinner to warm, and took a long sip of the now room- temperature beer, and he glanced at the clock. It read a quarter to twelve. Mac and Methos would still be engaged with one another, or already asleep contentedly in one another's arms. No matter which, should he disturb them, they would take his head first chance after. Amanda could still be awake though. With hope, he dialed her cell.
"Helloo," purred a woman's voice.
"I have a beautiful woman asleep on my couch."
From wherever she was, Amanda's husky laughter floated through the telephone wires. "It takes much more than a couch, darling, to paint my complexion green," she paused, and Richie chuckled. "Now, what brings me a rare Richie call?"
"I need to get into some Watcher files. With Joe gone, the process is significantly harder. I would ask Adam for help, but he and Mac would still be basking in the afterglow."
Amanda's smile was visible in her voice. "Computers are more Nick's expertise than mine. I'll have him ring you when he wakes. He only returned home from work and hour ago, after working close to forty hours straight."
"Fine. I'd appreciate it."
"If he cannot help you, though," she trailed off.
"I can either convince Adam to help me, or I could call Lewis Weiss. Computers are both his vocation and his hobby, and to hack into a secret agency would be his dream. However, he knows nothing of Immortals nor of Watchers," he paused and swallowed his breath and some beer. "She hides secrets Amanda. I only want to shed some light."
Amanda did not need to ask to know he meant the girl asleep on his couch. "Before you hack into anything darling, try talking to her."
"Reformed much, my dear?"
"Hardly. But I am woman. I'll have Nick call you. Good night Richard, my lionhearted."
"Good night, Amanda."
The microwave had beeped, and he ate his dinner standing and finished his beer. Throwing both the bottle and the disposable plate into the trash, he took one more look at Asher. She still slept, a serene expression written across her face. Sighing, he retreated into his own bed, and having stripped to his t-shirt and boxers, climbed in, and fell asleep. His sword was ready, and hidden under the mattress.
September 09 2004, 2330PM, the apartment of Richie Ryan
He paid more attention to the sleeping Asher than he did to the movie. It was James Bond -From Russia With Love- and the actor who played Bond looked like a young Ramirez. (He had never met Ramirez, but he had seen the rare sketch).
He had seen the movie countless times before. On Thanksgiving weekend 2002, he, Mac, and Methos had camped at Joe's and watched a James Bond movie marathon. Joe successfully burned the turkey, and they had ordered pizza and salads, and a slightly drunk Methos had tried to claim he *knew* James Bond.
Richie sighed. Those were good memories.
Asher stirred, and mumbled in her sleep. Strands of her still damp strawberry-blonde hair fell across his cheek, and gently Richie pushed the strands behind her ear. She reached for his hand but still did not awake, and after a forever moment, he pried his hand away. She protested, but still she did not awake.
Gently, he moved her legs onto the couch (so she was now almost horizontal, instead of in the slumped sitting position she had been in), and tucked the blanket around her. Briefly, Asher opened her eyes, and caught Richie's gaze, mumbled something incoherently and closed her eyes again. She had eyes of the clearest blue.
Switching the television off, he took his now cold dinner and still nearly-full beer, and treaded into the kitchen. For the second time, he microwaved his dinner to warm, and took a long sip of the now room- temperature beer, and he glanced at the clock. It read a quarter to twelve. Mac and Methos would still be engaged with one another, or already asleep contentedly in one another's arms. No matter which, should he disturb them, they would take his head first chance after. Amanda could still be awake though. With hope, he dialed her cell.
"Helloo," purred a woman's voice.
"I have a beautiful woman asleep on my couch."
From wherever she was, Amanda's husky laughter floated through the telephone wires. "It takes much more than a couch, darling, to paint my complexion green," she paused, and Richie chuckled. "Now, what brings me a rare Richie call?"
"I need to get into some Watcher files. With Joe gone, the process is significantly harder. I would ask Adam for help, but he and Mac would still be basking in the afterglow."
Amanda's smile was visible in her voice. "Computers are more Nick's expertise than mine. I'll have him ring you when he wakes. He only returned home from work and hour ago, after working close to forty hours straight."
"Fine. I'd appreciate it."
"If he cannot help you, though," she trailed off.
"I can either convince Adam to help me, or I could call Lewis Weiss. Computers are both his vocation and his hobby, and to hack into a secret agency would be his dream. However, he knows nothing of Immortals nor of Watchers," he paused and swallowed his breath and some beer. "She hides secrets Amanda. I only want to shed some light."
Amanda did not need to ask to know he meant the girl asleep on his couch. "Before you hack into anything darling, try talking to her."
"Reformed much, my dear?"
"Hardly. But I am woman. I'll have Nick call you. Good night Richard, my lionhearted."
"Good night, Amanda."
The microwave had beeped, and he ate his dinner standing and finished his beer. Throwing both the bottle and the disposable plate into the trash, he took one more look at Asher. She still slept, a serene expression written across her face. Sighing, he retreated into his own bed, and having stripped to his t-shirt and boxers, climbed in, and fell asleep. His sword was ready, and hidden under the mattress.