December 24, 2005, 345 AM, Asher's Childhood Home, Switzerland
Asher pulled the covers tighter around her, snuggling deeper into the crook of Richie's arm and chest. She was cold, but not just cold. It was not the temperature she felt, for under the blankets and next to Richie, she felt warm, but the sickening feeling she had felt since Sam Had visited, still lingered, sweeping a chill throughout her body.
Richie barely moved: he only tightened his hold around her waist. Curious, she propped herself up slightly, noting Richie was asleep. She smiled lightly, and placed a kiss to his forehead. She was still cold, but sleep would not come, so carefully, she slipped out of Richie's grasp, out of the bed they shared, and pulled on a sweatshirt. It was hooded, a gray University sweatshirt that belonged to Richie, that he had owned since before they had met. The blue and white striped pajama pants she wore were hers.
Silently, she crept from the bedroom, down the wide staircase, and into the kitchen. It was colder there, but still she found a saucepan, pouring some milk into it, and set it on the stove, to slowly bring to a boil.
She remembered living in this house before, watching her mother simmer the milk like this, in preparation to make peppermint milk, to give to her children when they could not sleep. Asher found a mug, found the peppermint extract, some nutmeg, and some cinnamon in the pantry, adding the three ingrideints to the milk, while it still remained on the stove.
Finally, having poured the milk into her mug, she took a sip, nodding her head in her own satisfaction. Mug still in hand, she moved to the back parlor, sitting on the couch, legs tucked under her, sipping her milk, while gazing at the tree. She smiled sadly.
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Richie found her there when he stumbled downstairs. He had been worried when he had woken to find himself alone in the bed, but he still had felt her presence in the house, so he knew she was still alive. He found her on the couch, an empty mug on the floor, one arm underneath her head, like a pillow, the other hanging off the edge of the couch. She was curled into a ball. He ached for her, knowing from past experiences, that sleeping on the couch did not leave for a pleasant morning.
He knelt next to the couch, shaking her gently, whispering in her ear, "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. It's Christmas."
"No, it's not," she mumbled, stirring slightly. "Tomorrow is Christmas."
"Well, sure, technically. But living with Mac and Tessa, we always opened presents on Christmas Eve. Which is tonight."
"You're just trying to cheer me up." She was still only half-awake.
"Maybe, is it working?"
"No." She paused, opening her eyes. "Yes. What time is it?"
"A little after ten. I missed you last night."
"I couldn't sleep." She sat up, simultaneously stretching her legs, arms, and wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Correction," she muttered, "I slept uncomfortably."
"Sore muscles?" Richie guessed. She nodded. "Here."
He climbed on the couch, pushing her aside slightly, to sit behind her, massaging her neck and shoulder muscles.
"Thanks."
For several moments, they did not speak. Only when Richie dropped his hands, and Asher leaned back into him, he wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head, did she ask, "Want to visit town today?"
"Need to buy gifts?" he teased.
"I wish," she whispered. Louder, she added, "No. I wanted to try to find Frank Reilley, to talk to him. To discover Sam's plan."
"I'll go," he confirmed. They lasped into silence again, only finally moving, when both stomachs growled. Richie shifted his weight, when Asher had stood. He caught her arm before she could leave the room. "Hey, Asher?"
"Yes?"
"About what I said last night, about how you match my cracks, I meant it. You do. And, maybe with us, two halves do make a whole."
A slow smile spread across her face. "Thank you," she whispered, and she bent down to kiss him.
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It was already almost one o'clock, when they were finally dressed, and on the road towards town. Asher drove, and Richie sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio, trying to find a radio station he could understand. So, far he found several German stations, one, maybe two Italian news stations, and one French station. He could understand the French station, but he had not liked the music that had been playing.
"You won't find an English station, Richie. We're too far from the city. The French would be your best bet."
"They were playing Korn, badly dubbed Korn," he argued, but still he flipped back to it, and leaned dejectedly into his chair. Asher smiled, and he stuck his tongue out. For a moment, they were able to pretend it was any normal day, and they were any normal couple.
Instead, both were Immortal, and both looked forever nineteen, even if in real life, Richie was thirty-one, and Asher was twenty-three. Instead, of driving into the closest town, both knowing someone might be dead before the day ended.
But for that one moment, they were able to forget. Over the gearshift, Richie reached across and squeezed Asher's hand. She smiled, shifted into third gear, shifting again into fourth a few seconds later.
She parked in the food store parking lot when they arrived into town. "If I remember correctly, this town only has one hotel."
"He wouldn't be staying in Geneva?"
"Too far. You remember the drive here. No, Sam would remain in the closest town to where I am, and Reilley would stay close to him." Richie looked puzzled. "What?" Asher added.
"Nothing, just you call Sam by his first name, but you call your grandfather by his last name."
"Opposed to Grandfather?" Asher shrugged. "Growing up, I never had the fondest memories of him. He never approved of my father. He often refused to see us, should our father have been the accompanying adult."
"Oh. Sounds like he and Sam would get along very well."
Asher grinned. "You have no idea." She offered her hand. "Come on, the hotel's this way."
Asher pulled the covers tighter around her, snuggling deeper into the crook of Richie's arm and chest. She was cold, but not just cold. It was not the temperature she felt, for under the blankets and next to Richie, she felt warm, but the sickening feeling she had felt since Sam Had visited, still lingered, sweeping a chill throughout her body.
Richie barely moved: he only tightened his hold around her waist. Curious, she propped herself up slightly, noting Richie was asleep. She smiled lightly, and placed a kiss to his forehead. She was still cold, but sleep would not come, so carefully, she slipped out of Richie's grasp, out of the bed they shared, and pulled on a sweatshirt. It was hooded, a gray University sweatshirt that belonged to Richie, that he had owned since before they had met. The blue and white striped pajama pants she wore were hers.
Silently, she crept from the bedroom, down the wide staircase, and into the kitchen. It was colder there, but still she found a saucepan, pouring some milk into it, and set it on the stove, to slowly bring to a boil.
She remembered living in this house before, watching her mother simmer the milk like this, in preparation to make peppermint milk, to give to her children when they could not sleep. Asher found a mug, found the peppermint extract, some nutmeg, and some cinnamon in the pantry, adding the three ingrideints to the milk, while it still remained on the stove.
Finally, having poured the milk into her mug, she took a sip, nodding her head in her own satisfaction. Mug still in hand, she moved to the back parlor, sitting on the couch, legs tucked under her, sipping her milk, while gazing at the tree. She smiled sadly.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----
Richie found her there when he stumbled downstairs. He had been worried when he had woken to find himself alone in the bed, but he still had felt her presence in the house, so he knew she was still alive. He found her on the couch, an empty mug on the floor, one arm underneath her head, like a pillow, the other hanging off the edge of the couch. She was curled into a ball. He ached for her, knowing from past experiences, that sleeping on the couch did not leave for a pleasant morning.
He knelt next to the couch, shaking her gently, whispering in her ear, "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. It's Christmas."
"No, it's not," she mumbled, stirring slightly. "Tomorrow is Christmas."
"Well, sure, technically. But living with Mac and Tessa, we always opened presents on Christmas Eve. Which is tonight."
"You're just trying to cheer me up." She was still only half-awake.
"Maybe, is it working?"
"No." She paused, opening her eyes. "Yes. What time is it?"
"A little after ten. I missed you last night."
"I couldn't sleep." She sat up, simultaneously stretching her legs, arms, and wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Correction," she muttered, "I slept uncomfortably."
"Sore muscles?" Richie guessed. She nodded. "Here."
He climbed on the couch, pushing her aside slightly, to sit behind her, massaging her neck and shoulder muscles.
"Thanks."
For several moments, they did not speak. Only when Richie dropped his hands, and Asher leaned back into him, he wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing the top of her head, did she ask, "Want to visit town today?"
"Need to buy gifts?" he teased.
"I wish," she whispered. Louder, she added, "No. I wanted to try to find Frank Reilley, to talk to him. To discover Sam's plan."
"I'll go," he confirmed. They lasped into silence again, only finally moving, when both stomachs growled. Richie shifted his weight, when Asher had stood. He caught her arm before she could leave the room. "Hey, Asher?"
"Yes?"
"About what I said last night, about how you match my cracks, I meant it. You do. And, maybe with us, two halves do make a whole."
A slow smile spread across her face. "Thank you," she whispered, and she bent down to kiss him.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------
It was already almost one o'clock, when they were finally dressed, and on the road towards town. Asher drove, and Richie sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with the radio, trying to find a radio station he could understand. So, far he found several German stations, one, maybe two Italian news stations, and one French station. He could understand the French station, but he had not liked the music that had been playing.
"You won't find an English station, Richie. We're too far from the city. The French would be your best bet."
"They were playing Korn, badly dubbed Korn," he argued, but still he flipped back to it, and leaned dejectedly into his chair. Asher smiled, and he stuck his tongue out. For a moment, they were able to pretend it was any normal day, and they were any normal couple.
Instead, both were Immortal, and both looked forever nineteen, even if in real life, Richie was thirty-one, and Asher was twenty-three. Instead, of driving into the closest town, both knowing someone might be dead before the day ended.
But for that one moment, they were able to forget. Over the gearshift, Richie reached across and squeezed Asher's hand. She smiled, shifted into third gear, shifting again into fourth a few seconds later.
She parked in the food store parking lot when they arrived into town. "If I remember correctly, this town only has one hotel."
"He wouldn't be staying in Geneva?"
"Too far. You remember the drive here. No, Sam would remain in the closest town to where I am, and Reilley would stay close to him." Richie looked puzzled. "What?" Asher added.
"Nothing, just you call Sam by his first name, but you call your grandfather by his last name."
"Opposed to Grandfather?" Asher shrugged. "Growing up, I never had the fondest memories of him. He never approved of my father. He often refused to see us, should our father have been the accompanying adult."
"Oh. Sounds like he and Sam would get along very well."
Asher grinned. "You have no idea." She offered her hand. "Come on, the hotel's this way."