Author's Note: 'caramia' is Italian for 'my beloved.'
It took me a long time to write this chapter, and I don't know if it says everything I wanted it to, but it does say what needs to be said. Thanks to southernchickie for the advice when I asked. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------
December 23, 2005, 545 PM, Asher's Childhood Home, Switzerland
"Hello, Sam," greeted Asher after several moments. Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and Sam had to strain to hear it. "This is a pleasant surprise."
"I'd say unpleasant, judging from Ryan's reaction." Sam's laughter sounded hollow. "But no matter. I come on unfinished business."
"Good. So finish it, then leave."
"Richie," breathed Asher. "Please." She turned now to Sam, voice more normal pitch, but colder. "What do you want?"
"Privacy, for one."
"Richie stays."
"If you insist. After all, he is the reason I knew you were here." Asher offered no response, but instead flicked her wrist in a gesture meant to say, 'please continue.' As she brought her hand to her side again, Richie (who had moved away from the doorway) took her hand, and laced his fingers through hers.
"While you played at your favorite fairy tale," continued Sam, "Ryan here chatted with a certain elderly gentleman. One who works for me. When your train arrived in Geneva, I was informed. I knew you would come here when I returned that key, I just didn't know when." Sam paused, grinning, a gesture both leering and cruel. "Actually, I believe you know my contact. Does the name Frank Reilley ring a bell?"
Asher didn't respond, but seeing the shock written on her face was all the answer Sam needed. He threw his head back, and he laughed. "Do you remember the day we met, Asher?" He paused again, still smiling cruelly. "Or, should I say, Ashley?"
"Asher will do fine, Sam. And, I remember that day well, but what does it have to do with this?"
"Everything. It has to do with everything." He paused, pacing the kitchen several times before he spoke again. "That day in court, when you were declared innocent, why did you kiss me?"
"I was grateful to you," she shrugged.
"Grateful, my arse. I damn near choked on your tongue."
"Why did you employ Reilley, Sam?"
"Oh, yes, change the subject. Save your boyfriend from knowing your past."
"I know of her past, Clarke," Richie growled.
"I'm sure you do. Ten to one, she never mentioned me until I showed up that day in the bar. Speaking of, how are Adam and Duncan?"
"Now, who's changing the subject?" Richie raised an eyebrow. "And, she did mention you."
"Careful, Ryan," warned Sam. "Now, Frank Reilley. . . a delightful old chap, no?"
"Why did you employ him, Sam?"
"Because I knew he would get to you. Because I knew alone, I could not." He gingerly stepped toward Asher, a sad, a feeling smile on his lips. "Because whatever we were to one another, caramia, whatever we are to one another, I am sorry."
"What do you take me for, Sam? A fool? You want me dead." A small smile crossed her face in seeing his shock. "I learned some things from you, Sam, in the four years we dated. After you returned my sword, I conducted my own research."
"Then why did you come, Ash? If you knew this to be a trap," his voice trailed.
"Because I hoped to be wrong."
Sam nodded, mumbling something of dinner. It was only when he was gone, did Richie spat, "Next time, I kill him."
"Don't go sadistic on me, ok?" Lightly, she touched her palm to his cheek. "I almost lost you once, Richie. I'm not losing you again."
"You won't," he promised, lightly kissing her, smiling tenderly against her lips. "So, who is Frank Reilley?"
Asher smiled sadly. She glanced out the window, noticing somewhere in the argument, it had started to snow. Silently, she reached a hand to the windowpane, almost to touch a snowflake, pulling back, when her hand touched only glass. She shivered slightly, wrapping her arms around her waist, still watching the snow. "My mother's father. I knew he was a Watcher, even before I knew who the Watchers were, I just never thought, never knew. . ."
"Oh, god, Asher," whispered Richie, burying his head in her hair, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I am sorry."
"Don't be," she shook her head. "I need to face him sometime. Lay the last of my demons to rest. That's why I came here. I am only sorry I dragged you into this."
"You didn't drag me into anything. I came willingly. Trust me, after years of living with Mac, I know the difference." He felt, rather than saw, the small smile cross Asher's lips. "I love you, Asher, and I am never letting you go."
She shook her head again. "I'm broken, Richie. You need someone whole to love."
"No, I need you. To match my own cracks."
Sighing, she turned in his arms, touched her hand to his cheek again. Smiled against his lips. Taking his face between her hands, knotting her fingers through his hair. "Next time Sam visits, you'll need to. . . "
"I promise. I will. I mean, deal." He grinned, bending to kiss her again. "So, how about that dinner now? I'm famished."
It took me a long time to write this chapter, and I don't know if it says everything I wanted it to, but it does say what needs to be said. Thanks to southernchickie for the advice when I asked. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------------
December 23, 2005, 545 PM, Asher's Childhood Home, Switzerland
"Hello, Sam," greeted Asher after several moments. Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, and Sam had to strain to hear it. "This is a pleasant surprise."
"I'd say unpleasant, judging from Ryan's reaction." Sam's laughter sounded hollow. "But no matter. I come on unfinished business."
"Good. So finish it, then leave."
"Richie," breathed Asher. "Please." She turned now to Sam, voice more normal pitch, but colder. "What do you want?"
"Privacy, for one."
"Richie stays."
"If you insist. After all, he is the reason I knew you were here." Asher offered no response, but instead flicked her wrist in a gesture meant to say, 'please continue.' As she brought her hand to her side again, Richie (who had moved away from the doorway) took her hand, and laced his fingers through hers.
"While you played at your favorite fairy tale," continued Sam, "Ryan here chatted with a certain elderly gentleman. One who works for me. When your train arrived in Geneva, I was informed. I knew you would come here when I returned that key, I just didn't know when." Sam paused, grinning, a gesture both leering and cruel. "Actually, I believe you know my contact. Does the name Frank Reilley ring a bell?"
Asher didn't respond, but seeing the shock written on her face was all the answer Sam needed. He threw his head back, and he laughed. "Do you remember the day we met, Asher?" He paused again, still smiling cruelly. "Or, should I say, Ashley?"
"Asher will do fine, Sam. And, I remember that day well, but what does it have to do with this?"
"Everything. It has to do with everything." He paused, pacing the kitchen several times before he spoke again. "That day in court, when you were declared innocent, why did you kiss me?"
"I was grateful to you," she shrugged.
"Grateful, my arse. I damn near choked on your tongue."
"Why did you employ Reilley, Sam?"
"Oh, yes, change the subject. Save your boyfriend from knowing your past."
"I know of her past, Clarke," Richie growled.
"I'm sure you do. Ten to one, she never mentioned me until I showed up that day in the bar. Speaking of, how are Adam and Duncan?"
"Now, who's changing the subject?" Richie raised an eyebrow. "And, she did mention you."
"Careful, Ryan," warned Sam. "Now, Frank Reilley. . . a delightful old chap, no?"
"Why did you employ him, Sam?"
"Because I knew he would get to you. Because I knew alone, I could not." He gingerly stepped toward Asher, a sad, a feeling smile on his lips. "Because whatever we were to one another, caramia, whatever we are to one another, I am sorry."
"What do you take me for, Sam? A fool? You want me dead." A small smile crossed her face in seeing his shock. "I learned some things from you, Sam, in the four years we dated. After you returned my sword, I conducted my own research."
"Then why did you come, Ash? If you knew this to be a trap," his voice trailed.
"Because I hoped to be wrong."
Sam nodded, mumbling something of dinner. It was only when he was gone, did Richie spat, "Next time, I kill him."
"Don't go sadistic on me, ok?" Lightly, she touched her palm to his cheek. "I almost lost you once, Richie. I'm not losing you again."
"You won't," he promised, lightly kissing her, smiling tenderly against her lips. "So, who is Frank Reilley?"
Asher smiled sadly. She glanced out the window, noticing somewhere in the argument, it had started to snow. Silently, she reached a hand to the windowpane, almost to touch a snowflake, pulling back, when her hand touched only glass. She shivered slightly, wrapping her arms around her waist, still watching the snow. "My mother's father. I knew he was a Watcher, even before I knew who the Watchers were, I just never thought, never knew. . ."
"Oh, god, Asher," whispered Richie, burying his head in her hair, wrapping his arms around his waist. "I am sorry."
"Don't be," she shook her head. "I need to face him sometime. Lay the last of my demons to rest. That's why I came here. I am only sorry I dragged you into this."
"You didn't drag me into anything. I came willingly. Trust me, after years of living with Mac, I know the difference." He felt, rather than saw, the small smile cross Asher's lips. "I love you, Asher, and I am never letting you go."
She shook her head again. "I'm broken, Richie. You need someone whole to love."
"No, I need you. To match my own cracks."
Sighing, she turned in his arms, touched her hand to his cheek again. Smiled against his lips. Taking his face between her hands, knotting her fingers through his hair. "Next time Sam visits, you'll need to. . . "
"I promise. I will. I mean, deal." He grinned, bending to kiss her again. "So, how about that dinner now? I'm famished."