*Thursday, July 9, 1998*

"The rumors have been confirmed, singer/song writer Richie Ryan has died in a jet skiing accident in his hometown of Seacouver, Washington. Ryan had already been recording for his new album; there is no word on whether or not the recordings will be released. I'm Kurt Loder join us eight to the hour every hour for an MTV news break"

Rylan changed the channel.

"Witnesses reported seeing a small explosion when hometown hero. . . "

She hit the channel up button.

". reportedly ran his jet ski over submerged. . . due to the unusually rainy winter, rocks from the jetty on Andrew's beach had been submerged. . . started his career by competing in local battle of the bands. . . eleven top ten hits and three Grammys in four years. . ."

Giving up she switched off the TV and got a beer out of the refrigerator. She turned on the radio.

"Rebels are we

Though heavy our hearts shall always be

And no ball nor chain nor prison shall keep

We're the rebels of the sacred heart."

Richie's voice drifted through the speakers. She turned it back off.

"Can't get away from him," she mumbled as the doorbell rang. "Don't want any." She opened the door. "Angie!"

"Oh, Rylan, I just heard." Angie pulled her into a choking hug. "I had to come over and make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"Don't pretend, I know how close you two were. Rylan, I am so sorry, I don't know what to say."

Rylan pulled away. "Angie. . . I'm fine," she insisted. "I'm just taking it all in right now. Do you want a drink? I could get you something."

"Oh, no. I just wanted to stop by and see you. Call me if you need anything, or if you just want to talk okay?" She finished before a loud sob escaped her.

"Angie. . ." Rylan's voice tightened. "Stop that." She started crying. "Geeze this is the last thing I need." She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Richie wouldn't want you to cry."

"It always did make him act funny. . . " Angie laughed. "You know what? I don't think I ever saw him cry."

"Come to think of it, I don't think I ever did either. In eighteen years, not once." Rylan sat down on the stairs. "Not ever, no matter what."

"He was stubborn and prideful."

"Yeah," Rylan whipped at her cheeks. "Damn, I feel stupid. What'd you have to go and start crying for, huh?"

. . . . . .

Green Day blared from Rylan's room.

"Hey, Ry?" Richie opened her door. "Ry!" He called over the music.

She jumped and looked up from her spiral. She reached over and turned down her stereo. "Sorry."

"If you're writing, I can come back later," he offered.

"No I. . ." she showed him the blank page. "I haven't written a word. I'm just trying to avoid all the, you know 'hub ub'."

"What's wrong, you look like you've been crying." He sat next to her on the bed.

"Angie came over," Rylan said softly. "She saw the news and wanted to make sure I was okay."

"Oh," Richie said, not sure what else to say.

"Needless to say, it was a little weird. And she started crying, then I started crying. . ."

"That had to have sucked."

"Yeah it did."

"How long did she stay?"

"Not too long." They lapsed into silence.

"Amanda's here," Richie said suddenly standing up.

"When did she get here?"

"Now." He tapped his head with his finger and smiled.

"Oh, so is she gonna. . ."

"Yeah," he ran his fingers through his hair. "Take a good look, 'cause it'll all be gone the next time you see me."

"No," she pouted fixing his hair. "You just got it the way I like it. And now you're going to screw it all up."

"And I'm doing it just to annoy you."

. . . . . .

There was a soft knock on Richie's bedroom door.

"Yo," he said.

The door opened, "I assume that means 'come in'." Rylan closed the door behind her. "I just wanted to say good night. Still packing?" She looked at the clothes scattered across the room and the still empty suitcase on the bed.

"Supposedly," he mumbled. "You know, you'd think I'd be better at this, but it still takes me forever."

"So don't make it so complicated. Underwear, jeans, shirts, socks, problem solved." She started pull things out of drawers and putting them in the suitcase.

"Over simplifier."

"It works, doesn't it?" Next she began folding clothes from off the floor and soon she had packed for Richie. "See? All done."

"Thank you, mommy," Richie said in his best little kid voice.

"You're welcome, sweetie." She ruffled his hair and stopped, looking at the straight brown hair sticking up through her fingers. "I don't like it," she told him. "It's not you. It looks good, but I don't like it."

Richie looked at himself in the mirror. "I kinda do. It's different. My hair has always been curly and blonde. This makes me look older."

"How old do you want to look? You're only twenty-three."

"Almost twenty-four."

"That's almost twenty-five, which is a quarter of a century. . . you geezer!" she exclaimed in mock horror.

Richie laughed, "Point made, but I still like it."

"And I still don't."

"When you get used to it you will."

"No, I'll just be used to it." She took a picture off his dresser and showed it to him. "This is what I like, this is my Richie."

He took the picture from her and looked at it. His twenty year old self and a eighteen year old Rylan smiled up at him, back to back in a two person rendition of the 'Charlie's Angles' pose. The picture had been taken when his hair was at it's longest, which wasn't very long, but long enough to flaunt the soft blonde curls that become his trademark in the music business. Looking at himself so happy and carefree, unaware of the hell his life would turn into in three years, just happy to be living the life he had always wanted made him want those days back more than anything else.

"Things change," he snapped handing the picture back. "You want to past so much, you can keep it. But I'm telling you, your Richie's dead."

Rylan looked up at him. "Chill, I was just sayin'. . ." she said softly, slightly off-put by his sudden burst of anger.

"Ry, I. . . I'm sorry, okay?" he apologized giving her a hug. "You're the only person that's not making a big deal out of all this. You aren't the one I should be yelling at."

"Don't worry about it," she said with a smirk. "You gotta take it out on someone. And you know me, always happy to help."

"You want to help?" he asked as an idea popped into his head. "Then do something for me."

"Sure, just tell me what."

"I know this sounds stupid, but. . , stay with me tonight? One more time, for nostalgia's sake."

Rylan cocked her head to one side. "You mean, like, sleep with you?"

"Yeah, I know it's immature and everything, but. . . I don't know. I've been thinking about the stuff we used to do and. . . I just want things to go back to normal. If you don't want to I understand," he added quickly. "It was just an idea. . ."

"Richie, shut up and turn the light off." She pulled the suitcase off the bed and flopped down in it's place. Richie flipped the light switch and slid next to her under the covers. Just knowing she was there made muscles he didn't know were tensed relax.

"I don't like this," he said softly.

"What?"

"Immortality, my hair, everything."

"I thought you liked your hair," Rylan said, picking the least emotional topic.

"I do, but I don't like why I did it. I don't want to be immortal, and I don't want to move to Scotland. . . it smells funny."

Rylan laughed. "Did you just say Scotland smells funny?"

"Well it does," he defended.

"Maybe it smells better now."

Richie sighed and rolled onto his side. "Maybe." Rylan forced him onto his back and turned his face toward her.

"What else?" she demanded.

"Nothing else."

"That's a load of crap and you know it. So spill."

"I don't like that everyone is moving because of me. I hate when people have to change to accommodate me. And now you're going to be stuck here by yourself. . ."

"Don't worry about me. I'll have papers and tests to keep me distracted me from developing a complex. Senior year and all that comes with it. And I'm sure Duncan is just using this as an excuse to move back to Scotland, Tessa will be happy no matter where she is as long as she's got you and Duncan."

"But what about Connor, huh? He's going there with me tomorrow, not Mac. He's the one that'll be teaching me until Mac can get there. Everybody is putting they're life on hold all because I skidding on a patch of ice and off a bridge. It wasn't even a very big bridge. . ."

"Connor wouldn't be doing it unless he wanted to. Besides, I think it was his idea for Duncan and Tessa to stay longer."

"But, still. I don't like it. I just want everything to go back the way it was."

"Hate to break it to you, Rich, but it's too late for that."