September 11, 2004, 2:30 PM, the Apartment of Richie Ryan
Briefly, once again wrapped in the strength of Richie's arms, Asher wondered if she was going about this all-wrong. For the moment, she felt happy, and on such a somber day it felt wrong to feel alive. She silently reminded herself she deserved this right.
Her stomach grumbled, and she shrugged a smile, observing the bemused expression Richie had donned. "Hungry, Asher?"
She shook her head, and pulled herself to a half-sitting position, supporting her weight on elbows. "Food revolts me today. I shall live one day on empty."
"You could live forever on empty," he mumbled, and from the crestfallen expression on Asher's face, he knew she heard. "Asher, I didn't mean--"
She tried to shrug it, tried to make her voice nonchalant. She knew she failed miserably. "No worries. Suppose, I am just sensitive today. I think moved too quickly, took too many steps in little time."
"Asher--"
Richie, no," she prodded herself from the bed as she spoke. "I am grateful to you. In the three days I have known you, you have shown me I still have the ability to live, and that I still have the ability to take pleasure in life. Just, I don't want to push it. Already, I fear I have," she paused, and swallowed some deep breaths. "I need my guitar."
"Your guitar?" echoed Richie.
"Yes. I write music, songs. I find it helps to regulate my emotions," she paused again. "I have not finished a started song in over three years."
"Since before the accident," he translated. Asher nodded, and strummed opening chords. "What was it like, Asher? To have to leave everything behind?"
"Didn't you?" She did not look upward from the instrument.
"No. I was a foster child. I had been living with Mac and Tessa for over a year when I first died. Mac was my mentor before, and he was still my mentor afterwards."
Asher's glance strayed to Richie's face. "Heartbreaking. The only people who have ever loved you unconditionally believing you to be dead, and you knowing that you are very much alive, and never able to see them again."
"Sounds familiar," he responded, and Asher cocked an eyebrow in question. "I told you our friend Joe died last year. He accepted who we were, no, or rather few, questions asked. Just unconditional respect and admiration for what we did. After he died, something in us died too."
"It is not quite like, Richie. I don't mean to lessen the grief you felt, only that separate circumstances are involved."
"The emotions are similar though."
Asher returned to the guitar she held. "I suppose the emotions are. Does it ever leave you?" "Does what?"
"The heartbreak."
"Eventually, the pain does lessen, yes. But, I don't know if it ever leaves you completely," and somehow he knew she alluded to not only the emotions, but to the curse of Immortality too. "We are who we are, Asher. We can only accept the fact, and live as life lets."
"I would have killed myself, had I had the chance. I wanted to die. Too much pain, too much heartbreak, too much."
Silently, Richie gathered the weeping Asher in his arms, and rocked her, no words spoken, as the tears fell, soaking through the cotton tee he had pulled over somewhere in the course of the conversation. Whether mere moments or hours passed neither could know, but when the tears finally stopped, Asher pulled away, and a weight she had carried was visibly lighter.
Richie held her a moment at arm's length, and offered a gentle smile. "You have the bluest eyes I have seen."
She offered a smile in return, and curling again against his shoulder, she whispered uncaught words into the wet cotton. When they pulled apart again some time later, Asher took the guitar again into her hands to play, and Richie found some edible food. Both were hungry.
Briefly, once again wrapped in the strength of Richie's arms, Asher wondered if she was going about this all-wrong. For the moment, she felt happy, and on such a somber day it felt wrong to feel alive. She silently reminded herself she deserved this right.
Her stomach grumbled, and she shrugged a smile, observing the bemused expression Richie had donned. "Hungry, Asher?"
She shook her head, and pulled herself to a half-sitting position, supporting her weight on elbows. "Food revolts me today. I shall live one day on empty."
"You could live forever on empty," he mumbled, and from the crestfallen expression on Asher's face, he knew she heard. "Asher, I didn't mean--"
She tried to shrug it, tried to make her voice nonchalant. She knew she failed miserably. "No worries. Suppose, I am just sensitive today. I think moved too quickly, took too many steps in little time."
"Asher--"
Richie, no," she prodded herself from the bed as she spoke. "I am grateful to you. In the three days I have known you, you have shown me I still have the ability to live, and that I still have the ability to take pleasure in life. Just, I don't want to push it. Already, I fear I have," she paused, and swallowed some deep breaths. "I need my guitar."
"Your guitar?" echoed Richie.
"Yes. I write music, songs. I find it helps to regulate my emotions," she paused again. "I have not finished a started song in over three years."
"Since before the accident," he translated. Asher nodded, and strummed opening chords. "What was it like, Asher? To have to leave everything behind?"
"Didn't you?" She did not look upward from the instrument.
"No. I was a foster child. I had been living with Mac and Tessa for over a year when I first died. Mac was my mentor before, and he was still my mentor afterwards."
Asher's glance strayed to Richie's face. "Heartbreaking. The only people who have ever loved you unconditionally believing you to be dead, and you knowing that you are very much alive, and never able to see them again."
"Sounds familiar," he responded, and Asher cocked an eyebrow in question. "I told you our friend Joe died last year. He accepted who we were, no, or rather few, questions asked. Just unconditional respect and admiration for what we did. After he died, something in us died too."
"It is not quite like, Richie. I don't mean to lessen the grief you felt, only that separate circumstances are involved."
"The emotions are similar though."
Asher returned to the guitar she held. "I suppose the emotions are. Does it ever leave you?" "Does what?"
"The heartbreak."
"Eventually, the pain does lessen, yes. But, I don't know if it ever leaves you completely," and somehow he knew she alluded to not only the emotions, but to the curse of Immortality too. "We are who we are, Asher. We can only accept the fact, and live as life lets."
"I would have killed myself, had I had the chance. I wanted to die. Too much pain, too much heartbreak, too much."
Silently, Richie gathered the weeping Asher in his arms, and rocked her, no words spoken, as the tears fell, soaking through the cotton tee he had pulled over somewhere in the course of the conversation. Whether mere moments or hours passed neither could know, but when the tears finally stopped, Asher pulled away, and a weight she had carried was visibly lighter.
Richie held her a moment at arm's length, and offered a gentle smile. "You have the bluest eyes I have seen."
She offered a smile in return, and curling again against his shoulder, she whispered uncaught words into the wet cotton. When they pulled apart again some time later, Asher took the guitar again into her hands to play, and Richie found some edible food. Both were hungry.