Author's Note: Same disclaimer applies. I do not believe Paris University
really does exist, but for the sake of the story, it now does. As stated
before, this is an AU fic, in which Richie Ryan lives, and Joe Dawson was
killed in a car crash. It is also the sequel to "Aviataphobia," and opens
seven months after that story ends. (It is recommended you read that story
first.) --------------------------------------------------------------------
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April 12, 2005, 8 AM, Paris, France, Apartment of Richie Ryan/the Paris Airport/Le Blues Bar
Asher awoke before Richie. It had never been officially decided they would live together, but as Asher had had nowhere else to go, and for those first weeks of her time in Paris, she had had no money to rent or buy an apartment, she had stayed with Richie. The feelings between them had grown, and even after Asher had earned enough money in wages and tips from waitressing Le Blues Bar to buy her own apartment, she had no plans to live anywhere else.
Smiling impishly at the sleeping Richie, she slipped into the shower, and washed her hair with some mint concoction she had bought on sale from the drugstore the previous week. She noted her hair had grown, and that soon she would need to have it cut. Pulling some clothes from the closet, and some food from the kitchen, she penned a short note to Richie, and sneaked out into the fresh morning air.
It had rained the night before, and the morning smelt like spring. Stopping in somewhere to buy two coffees, she hailed a cab, and asked to be taken to the airport.
Adam Pierson already waited at the gate when she arrived, and she handed him the second coffee. "Hopefully, it should still be warm. I still don't understand why you wanted me to come. We barely know one another."
Adam took a grateful sip of the coffee, releasing a sigh of contentment. "Still warm. Actually, I had hoped to have Darcy come. But then, I realized she would forget. A sweet girl, but too forgetful for her own good sometimes. You seemed to be the logical next choice."
"Great," grinned Asher, though the smile exhibited some caution. "I'm the infamous Adam Pierson's second choice. My goals in life are not complete, and I can die a happy woman."
"Surely, you don't mean that? About dying, I mean?"
"Not anymore, no," shrugged Asher. "Think we could move this conversation elsewhere, though? Being around so many planes, just can we leave, now, please?"
Adam nodded, and took another large gulp of his coffee. "Thanks."
"For the coffee?" Asher was puzzled, as it was only a cup of coffee, and not the best coffee at that. "Just seemed logical. I think Richie said once, you could live off coffee and beer."
"Yes, well, but I meant, for meeting me."
"You're welcome. To warn you, though, I took a taxi here. I never liked Richie's car."
Despite the early morning hour, Adam grinned, and credited it to the open, and now less hostile, sarcasm of the young woman before him, and to the coffee. "Don't blame you. Although, I could have taken a taxi back myself, had I realized."
"You could have," shrugged Asher. She finished her own coffee, and threw the paper cup into a nearby trash barrel. They had walked some as they had talked, and were now standing just outside the airport parking lot, desperately trying to signal for a taxi. Or rather, Asher was desperately signaling a coffee, as Adam simply stood watching, and sipping at his coffee. "You barely know me, you realize."
Adam nodded, and tossed his empty cup into the same barrel. "I know, but I don't want MacLeod or Richie to know I am here yet. And, we already determined, that as sweet as Darcy is, she was not the woman for the job."
"So, where do you go now?" asked Asher, as she let herself into a taxi, and slid across the leather seating.
"I have a hotel room on the other side of town. I'll stay there for a few nights," he paused. "How is Duncan?"
Asher side-glanced Adam Pierson. She did not know him well enough to judge the hidden context behind the simply asked question. He had left around the same time she had first arrived, and the little conversation they had had, had resulted in his lecturing her on the cons of drinking. She knew he had sent sporadic emails to Richie while gone (wherever he had gone, as the emails had never said), as she had read some sent over Richie's shoulder. And she knew from conversations that Adam Pierson had been a professor at Paris University, teaching Eastern European languages and history, and was as allusive as he was witful. Adam Pierson also registered to her senses as a fellow Immortal, although both Richie and Mac had sworn thousands of time over that Adam Pierson was mortal.
Asher sighed, and listened to the directions Adam gave to the driver in rapid French. "He's well."
Adam nodded, and if he felt hurt from the news, he did not show it. The taxi stopped at Le Blues Bar first, and Asher climbed from the taxi, retrieving her wallet to pay for her taxi ride, but Adam shook his head. From the stories she had hard, and the apparent contradiction this gesture showed, the surprise must have showed on her face, for Adam smiled slightly, and said: "Just don't tell anyone, ok?"
"Of course not," agreed Asher. She was already halfway to the bar, when she noticed the taxi still waited. She pivoted on her left foot, and motioned for Adam to roll down the window, which he did. "If it helps matters, Mac has been miserable these past seven months."
Adam only nodded, and re-closed the window. The taxi disappeared, leaving a trail of exhaust dust in its awake. Kicking consciously at it with her foot (still wearing the same black on black saddle shoes), Asher pivoted gain, and walked the remaining footsteps to the doorway of Le Blues Bar. The bells taped to the door signaled her arrival. Mac was already behind the counter, wiping it down with a damp cloth.
"Here early, Asher. Everything ok?"
"Peachy. Hunky-dory. If Richie comes in or calls, transfer it to the back room. I'll be working on the computers."
"Sure," called Mac to the closed office door, for Asher had already slammed it behind her. Sighing, the highlander returned to the mundane task, and wondered if everything truly was as peachy as Asher had so sarcastically claimed.
April 12, 2005, 8 AM, Paris, France, Apartment of Richie Ryan/the Paris Airport/Le Blues Bar
Asher awoke before Richie. It had never been officially decided they would live together, but as Asher had had nowhere else to go, and for those first weeks of her time in Paris, she had had no money to rent or buy an apartment, she had stayed with Richie. The feelings between them had grown, and even after Asher had earned enough money in wages and tips from waitressing Le Blues Bar to buy her own apartment, she had no plans to live anywhere else.
Smiling impishly at the sleeping Richie, she slipped into the shower, and washed her hair with some mint concoction she had bought on sale from the drugstore the previous week. She noted her hair had grown, and that soon she would need to have it cut. Pulling some clothes from the closet, and some food from the kitchen, she penned a short note to Richie, and sneaked out into the fresh morning air.
It had rained the night before, and the morning smelt like spring. Stopping in somewhere to buy two coffees, she hailed a cab, and asked to be taken to the airport.
Adam Pierson already waited at the gate when she arrived, and she handed him the second coffee. "Hopefully, it should still be warm. I still don't understand why you wanted me to come. We barely know one another."
Adam took a grateful sip of the coffee, releasing a sigh of contentment. "Still warm. Actually, I had hoped to have Darcy come. But then, I realized she would forget. A sweet girl, but too forgetful for her own good sometimes. You seemed to be the logical next choice."
"Great," grinned Asher, though the smile exhibited some caution. "I'm the infamous Adam Pierson's second choice. My goals in life are not complete, and I can die a happy woman."
"Surely, you don't mean that? About dying, I mean?"
"Not anymore, no," shrugged Asher. "Think we could move this conversation elsewhere, though? Being around so many planes, just can we leave, now, please?"
Adam nodded, and took another large gulp of his coffee. "Thanks."
"For the coffee?" Asher was puzzled, as it was only a cup of coffee, and not the best coffee at that. "Just seemed logical. I think Richie said once, you could live off coffee and beer."
"Yes, well, but I meant, for meeting me."
"You're welcome. To warn you, though, I took a taxi here. I never liked Richie's car."
Despite the early morning hour, Adam grinned, and credited it to the open, and now less hostile, sarcasm of the young woman before him, and to the coffee. "Don't blame you. Although, I could have taken a taxi back myself, had I realized."
"You could have," shrugged Asher. She finished her own coffee, and threw the paper cup into a nearby trash barrel. They had walked some as they had talked, and were now standing just outside the airport parking lot, desperately trying to signal for a taxi. Or rather, Asher was desperately signaling a coffee, as Adam simply stood watching, and sipping at his coffee. "You barely know me, you realize."
Adam nodded, and tossed his empty cup into the same barrel. "I know, but I don't want MacLeod or Richie to know I am here yet. And, we already determined, that as sweet as Darcy is, she was not the woman for the job."
"So, where do you go now?" asked Asher, as she let herself into a taxi, and slid across the leather seating.
"I have a hotel room on the other side of town. I'll stay there for a few nights," he paused. "How is Duncan?"
Asher side-glanced Adam Pierson. She did not know him well enough to judge the hidden context behind the simply asked question. He had left around the same time she had first arrived, and the little conversation they had had, had resulted in his lecturing her on the cons of drinking. She knew he had sent sporadic emails to Richie while gone (wherever he had gone, as the emails had never said), as she had read some sent over Richie's shoulder. And she knew from conversations that Adam Pierson had been a professor at Paris University, teaching Eastern European languages and history, and was as allusive as he was witful. Adam Pierson also registered to her senses as a fellow Immortal, although both Richie and Mac had sworn thousands of time over that Adam Pierson was mortal.
Asher sighed, and listened to the directions Adam gave to the driver in rapid French. "He's well."
Adam nodded, and if he felt hurt from the news, he did not show it. The taxi stopped at Le Blues Bar first, and Asher climbed from the taxi, retrieving her wallet to pay for her taxi ride, but Adam shook his head. From the stories she had hard, and the apparent contradiction this gesture showed, the surprise must have showed on her face, for Adam smiled slightly, and said: "Just don't tell anyone, ok?"
"Of course not," agreed Asher. She was already halfway to the bar, when she noticed the taxi still waited. She pivoted on her left foot, and motioned for Adam to roll down the window, which he did. "If it helps matters, Mac has been miserable these past seven months."
Adam only nodded, and re-closed the window. The taxi disappeared, leaving a trail of exhaust dust in its awake. Kicking consciously at it with her foot (still wearing the same black on black saddle shoes), Asher pivoted gain, and walked the remaining footsteps to the doorway of Le Blues Bar. The bells taped to the door signaled her arrival. Mac was already behind the counter, wiping it down with a damp cloth.
"Here early, Asher. Everything ok?"
"Peachy. Hunky-dory. If Richie comes in or calls, transfer it to the back room. I'll be working on the computers."
"Sure," called Mac to the closed office door, for Asher had already slammed it behind her. Sighing, the highlander returned to the mundane task, and wondered if everything truly was as peachy as Asher had so sarcastically claimed.