Disclaimer: None of these characters actually belong to me. Nor does the concept of Immortality. The plot is, however, entirely of my own devising.
Author Notes: You may have noticed the name 'Asher' pop up in this chapter. This is, in fact, the same Asher who frequented my currently discontinued 'Phobia' series, however, you may have noticed, her last name is different in this one. That was purposeful. While this Asher is the same character, she is a different person, in that she followed a different path in this story('s universe). More of that will be revealed as the story continues.
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Richie Ryan cracked one eye open. His clock read exactly 7:52. AM. That could mean only one thing. He still had exactlly thirty-eight minutes before his alarm went off. Which meant he had no idea why he was awake now.
He scrunched his eye back closed, rolled over and tried fitfully for two minutes to fall back asleep. No such luck. He propped both eyes open, rolled onto his back, crossed both arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Just because he couldn't sleep anymore didn't mean he was getting out of bed yet.
First thing he noticed was that the water stain on ceiling corner over his dresser looked kinda like a rabbit when he squinted his eyes really tight and didn't look too clsely. Otherwise it looked exactly like a waterstain over his dresser trying to resemble a rabbit.
Second thing he noticed was Asher Zakresjek was gone.
That one was entirely so difficult, it didn't involve any thinking. She often disappeared before he woke. That was of the beauties of their relationship. They had great conversations and even greater sex, but they didn't expect anything else from each other.
Granted he didn't remember if that was originially his or Asher's decision or if they agreed on it. Supposed it didn't really matter. It worked form them. He didn't have to commit too much, leaving him time for other things, and Asher had her freedom, which she claimed to desperately to need after her ex-husband and a childhood she wou;dn't even begin to share.
Richie drew in his breath. Sometimes he wished Asher stayed until he was awake, so that just once, just once, he could kiss her awake and see her smile next to him.
7:59. AM.
This was getting pointless. He arched one arm over to off the alarm, and he swung himself from bed. He was up. He was awake. Duncan would be proud. He needed coffee.
Duncan. That was another person he missed. Duncan had taken off a few weeks back and no one had heard from him since. Not Methos. Not Amanda. Not Joe. Not Richie.
He was beginning to wonder if he should start worrying. That was his job, to take off for long period of times without telling anyone where he was going or when he was coming back. Or Methos' job, and Methos had far more experience with it. But it just wasn't like Duncan.
He added fresh coffee grinds to the coffee pot and switched the little button to on. He perched on the counter while he waited. That was when he noticed the little red light blinking on his answering machine. Puzzled expression on his face, he hit the 'play button.'
"Rich, it's Joe. About six in the morning. Know you're probably asleep, but this is important. Need you to check in with Mike today as soon as you get up. We're having some buzz about Headquarters today and we're trying to determine if any of ours slipped through the radar last night. We got a call from some our people last night. Apparently something's up. Let me know how you are too. Take Care."
Richie frowned. Buzz? Slipped through the radar? That mean someone had taken a quickening last night? Wouldn't Headquarters know that already?
He shook his head. He'd call Mike after he got his first cup of coffee in him.
8:04. AM
He had a second message.
"Rich, hey sweetie, it's Asher. Sorry for leaving on you again, but I had an early commitment I couldn't miss. We still on for dinner tomorrow night? Call me, ok? Bye."
He'd call Asher later.
Next message.
Next message? What was this? He hadn't gone to sleep until almost three in the morning. And it was now just barely after eight.
Next message.
8:07. AM.
"Rich, it's Joe again. Call Mike or myself immediately. We have a problem."
Joe had left the message twenty-five minutes earlier.
Richie's frown grew. His coffee finished. He quickly poured himself a cup and gulped it down in long swallow. It burned his throat and made his eyes water, but at least it was coffee, and it was inside him.
He poured himself a second cup of coffee, picked up his phone, and he dialed the very familiar number.
"Joe's bar. This is Mike Ross."
"Mike? It's Rich. How are you?"
"Rich? Oh thank god. How are you? Everything ok by you?"
"I'm fine. Of course I woke up to three million messages on my machine, every single one asking me to call someone back, and I've barely had my first cup of coffee."
He heard Mike chuckle slightly over the telephone wire. "Three million?"
"Well, three. Two were from Joe. What's going on over there. He still around?"
"In back. I think he may be talking to Adam."
"Ah, right. Adam." Richie swallowed more coffee. "Everything ok over there, Mike? Joe said we had a problem."
"You could say that." Richie could just see Mike running a hand through his dark shock of hair. "I'm assuming Joe mentioned why he called."
"He said something in the first message, yeah. About losing a guy last night?"
"Yes. Problem is we can't find who we lost. And we can't get hold of some."
"Like who?"
"Nick and Amanda, for one. But they're still in Malayasia on holiday. Said something about not having a phone with them, so we know it can't be them."
"Who else?"
"Sean Burns. Robert and Gina de Valicourt."
"But none fo them were in Seacouver last night!"
" I know." Mike paused. "There's more, Rich."
Richie swallowed more coffee. "Who?"
"Asher Zakresjek."
"Asher? But she was with me last night."
"This was yesterday morning." Mike sighed throught the wire, and Richie knew the older man's eyes were closed. "We didn't account for her yesterday until she met up with you. We have a someone on her, but she keeps losing him."
"You don't think she killed the guy, do you?"
"No. I don't know what to think, Rich. We're not even sure if it is a Quickening witnessed yesterday. All we know is some of ours saw a single stroke of lightening in an otherwise perfect sky."
"A Quickening, right?"
"The girl who called Joe said something about it being a wormhole."
"A wormhole?"
"Yes. Far-fetched, huh?"
"Tell me about it." Richie finished his coffee; h set the empty mug by the sink. He pulled himself up onto the countertop, and reached over the toaster oven for the loaf of bread he kept. Balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder, he opened the bag for two slices and popped them into the toaster. "Do you know the name of whoever called him?"
"Joe didn't say. She called him yesterday morning, then stopped in late yesterday afternoon, disappeared into his office, and didn't emerge until almost three hours later. He was in there with him almost the entire time. You'd have to ask Darcy. She went back there with drinks a couple of times. Said the girl's cellphone rang several times while she was in there."
"Know what she looked like?"
"Long, aubrun hair. Little more red than brown. Kind of short. Say maybe five feet, five foor one at most. She's one of ours, but she's not a field guy. She does research. I think we may have met once at a Christmas party."
The toaster regurgitated the toast, and Richie pulled the two pieces out, taking a bite from one slice. "Joe still on the phone?"
"Yep."
Richie nodded, knowing, of course, that Mike couldn't see the gesture. "Tell him I'm all right then, will you? I'll stop in later today to talk to him if he wants."
"Sure. Rich?"
"Yeah?"
"This probably isn't anything. Probably just a fluke somewhere in the system, or a thunderstorm somewhere yesterday. I wouldn't worry about it."
"Of course. I'll let you know anything when I see Asher next."
"Appreciate it."
8:39. AM.
Richie finished his toast. Pulled his last two eggs from the fridge and the bacon he still had left in his freezer. He scrambled the first and fried the second. He added salt and pepper to the eggs. Poured himself a glass of orange juice and read the paper while he ate.
9:07. AM.
Showered. Dressed. A message on his machine from when he was in the shower. Tying his shoes at the table, he hit the play button.
"Hi, Richard Ryan? My name is Fiona Phillips. I'm an associate of Joe Dawson. If possible, I'd like to speak to you about some recent events. Joe thought you might be able to shed some light on some of our most recent findings. If you could call me please, my number is 360-855-…. Thank you very much."
Richie quickly wrote the number and jammed the slip of paper into his pocket. If he had actually been answerign these questions, he'd be answering his phone, "Grand Central Station, thank you for calling, how could I help you please?" by now.
But he hadn't been. His answering machine had. And that didn't make any mention of Grand Central Station.
He grabbed his helmet, keys and cellphone, and he was out the door.
9:15. AM.
It was another beautiful spring morning.