Disclaimer: I do not own Static Shock. I am not making profit from this story so no one sue me, please. Any characters whom are not from Static Shock are rightfully owned by me.

Summary: Virgil and Richie haven't been friends for nearly 20 years. They have gone their separate ways and lived their successful lives through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?

Sitting at the kitchen table, Virgil outstretched his hands and watched his long, slender fingers shake slightly, uncontrollably. He sighed as he unsuccessfully willed them to stop.

Sighing again, Virgil pocketed his hands and glanced up at the wall clock. It was 7:42 in the morning; his daughter would be getting up in about fifteen minutes, which meant Virgil had enough time to step outside.

Every morning for five years, Virgil would stand on his balcony and have a cigarette; he particularly liked Pall Mall Orange because they were cheap, ultra light, burned longer than most cigarettes, and adequately gave him the buzz he was after. He used it as a mechanism to cope with his day. Ever since his divorce from Angelica, and the court ruling for partial custody of his daughter, Virgil had figured he deserved something to ease the stress, and since his late uncle had been an alcoholic—may his soul rest in peace—drinking was out of the question.

Leaning against the railing, Virgil inhaled the smoke from his cigarette deeply, held it momentarily, and released it slowly along with a satisfied sigh. Crossing his left arm over his chest, he rested his right elbow on his left hand. His head slumped down as an all-to-familiar cheerless expression crossed his features. Meanwhile, the well-known feeling of contentment overtook his body and he began to relax.

Virgil inhaled again, held the smoke to feel the buzz, and once again let it go with a puff, creating a well-practiced ring.

Concurrently, the hand held closest to his body created small bolts of electricity. Virgil had long ago deduced that he did it to be sure he still could. His electric powers had been one of the few things he was increasingly proud of as a teenager, and it was one of the few things he was proud of now. He had to know he still had control of something, even if it meant making small circles in the air while smoking in the morning.

Another a quick inhale: hold it in, release.

At this point, the buzz Virgil was after was finally starting to set in. He moaned softly and let his eyes flutter shut as the good-feelings of the buzz took over his brain, melting away any stress, anxiety and all the negativity.

A deeper inhale, held for several minutes, and then let out, the smoking dissipating around Virgil's body. The smell of nicotine wafted in Virgil's face due to a south-blowing wind, causing Virgil to relax further.

As far as Virgil was concerned, his electrokinesis was his last remaining tie to his teenage years, which were arguably the best years of his life, even if there really wasn't much of an argument. Virgil yearned for the years when the only thing he had to worry about was the fate of Dakota. Albeit, a superhero was a pretty big responsibility for a teenager, but it was better than a divorce, a pile of bills, a job, a daughter (though he would never trade Chloé for anything), and a twenty-year shattered friendship.

A long drag, held seemingly forever, let out with a long and content sigh. Virgil flicked the butt off the side of the balcony but remained leaning against the railing.

Oh, and an addiction to nicotine.

Yeah, being a teenager had certainly been a lot better than this.

A thought skirted through Virgil's mind: Thirty years ago, he had accidentally gone to the future and met his adult self. The man he was now, but not really. The man Virgil had met was a hero. He was a protector and a fighter of evil. He had a wife, a kid and was, perhaps most importantly, still friends with Richie.

What had happened to make his life turn out so differently than what he had seen? Where had everything gone wrong? Had he messed up his future like he had been warned not to do?

Before Virgil got the chance to mull over his thoughts further, a small voice uttered his alias from the entrance to the apartment. Virgil quickly pocketed the pack of cigarettes and lighter, that had been previously resting on the railing, in the pouch of the hoodie, hoping Chloé hadn't seen his possessions.

"Hi, Daddy," Chloé said, walking outside to stand next to Virgil. A smiling face looked up at Virgil, standing about a foot and a half shorter than him. Chloé wrapped her arms around Virgil's waist and gave him a hug.

"Good morning, Chloé," Virgil said and returned the hug to his daughter. "Did you sleep well?"

Chloé pulled out of the hug after a beat and sat down in a nearby chair. As she nodded, she gave Virgil a vocal reply. "Yes."

"Good," Virgil said with a warm smile. He would never admit it to anyone, but only seeing his daughter once or twice a year made talking to her feel pretty awkward. Sure they talked on the phone sometimes, but it was still hard to make conversation. He didn't know what she liked. "I guess you want some breakfast, huh?"

"That's okay, Daddy," Chloé said with a smile. "I had some cereal before I came out here."

"Oh," Virgil said. He ran his hands through his dreads and sighed softly. When had his daughter gotten so mature? He still remembered her being a little girl, and now she was feeding herself.

Chloé caught on to the awkwardness Virgil felt and smiled. Even though Chloé was only eight, she was developed way beyond her years. Unfortunately, the divorce of her parents forced her to grow up a little bit faster than the rest of the kids in her class. She was almost like an adult in the body of a beautiful, dread-locked little girl, who looked strikingly like Jean Hawkins, and from who Chloé got her middle name.

"Daddy," Chloé said, giggling softly, "I'm your daughter. You don't have to feel weird around me." She leaned forward and patted the side of Virgil's knee.

Virgil ran his hand through his dreads again and his cheeks burned from a blush he was thankful Chloé couldn't see. Letting out a breathy laugh, Virgil noticeably relaxed and took a seat next to Chloé. "I'm sorry, baby," he said and ruffled his daughter's hair briefly.

Chloé shrugged but her smile didn't dissipate. "It' okay, Daddy, I understand. You don't seem me that often." It was almost frightening how understanding and mature Chloé was, but Virgil appreciated having such a mature daughter, nevertheless. He was especially thankful for the next thing she said. "Want to hear about my best friend Rachael, Daddy?"

Virgil smiled; a genuine smile that wrinkled his nose and showed off his white teeth. "Sure; I would love to hear about Rachael."

"Great!" Chloé exclaimed.

Immediately, Chloé dove into a vivid description of a little Caucasian girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Chloé explained that Rachael was one of the smartest people in school; she was good at math and reading and writing and she always got straight 'A's. She even spent a few moments raving about how pretty she thought Rachael was and how her blonde hair was really soft. Chloé ended her fifteen minute explanation with how she hoped she and Rachael would be friends for a long time.

"Do you have a friend like that, Daddy?"

Virgil blinked, realizing his attention had drifted sometime during her explanation. Thankfully he was still able to recall what Chloé had said. "What?" he asked, locking his chocolate eyes with smaller chestnut brown once.

"Do you have a friend like Rachael, Daddy?" Chloé asked again, a little more specifically.

"Oh," Virgil said. For a few moments, his attention diverted to the ground. Did he have a friend like Rachael? Well, no, not really. Not anymore. He had screwed up that friendship a long time ago. He debated for a moment even telling Chloé about Richie.

"I used to," Virgil finally said, his gaze meeting Chloé's once more.

Chloé raised an eyebrow and met Virgil's gaze in return. "You used to? Well, how come not anymore?"

Virgil shrugged. "Uh…" How could Virgil explain this so it would make sense to his daughter? He hesitated for a few minutes as he mulled over his thoughts as they raced into the forefront for his mind.

"What was he like?" Chloé asked, deciding maybe a different question would be better, having noticed her father's hesitation with the previous question.

Well, that one was easy to answer. "He was a lot like Rachael, actually. He had blond hair and blue eyes and he was really, really smart. Easily he was the smartest person I knew," he said, even if that was the understatement of the century. Richie was easily the smartest person currently living. He explained how Richie always got straight 'A's in high school and college. "This one time," Virgil began, smiling at the memory, "He got a B- on a test and completely—" he made a chopping motion with his hand for emphasis "—freaked out about."

Chloé laughed and smiled throughout the story. For a moment, she even wished he could meet him. So she said that to her father. "He sounds really nice. Wish I could meet him."

The smile on Virgil's face faded a little bit. "I would like to see him again," Virgil admitted and nodded. "I miss him a lot." Again, that was a huge understatement. Part of the reason Virgil had taken up smoking was due to the lack of Richie in his life. The divorce, bills, and his daughter were all things he could handle, but Richie not being his life was more than he could handle. The constant memories of blond did not help either.

There was a few moments of silence between Chloé and Virgil in which they were both very much lost in their own thoughts. Nearly five minutes had passed before Chloé finally spoke.

"You know, I bet I could find him."

Virgil blinked. "What?"

"Richie," Chloé said, as if that had been what Virgil was questioning. "I bet I can find him."

"Chloé, honey, how could you possibly know where to find Richie? I'm don't even sure where he lives."

Chloé shook her hand in tune with her shaking head. "I'm good at finding people, Daddy."

Virgil sighed. He began to flick the finger nail of his ring finger against the pad of his thumb as he thought. He wasn't questioning Chloé's ability to find people—Virgil was sure she was—but finding Richie was little harder than finding people during a game of Hide and Go Seek.

"Do you have a picture of him?"

"Why?"

"I need it," Chloé said matter-of-factly. "It's okay if it's a little old," she said, figuring Virgil didn't have a current one. "It will still work. I just need an idea of what he looks like."

This child could not seriously be eight.

Virgil sighed heavily and deeply. He debated questioning his daughter, but finally decided it best to just go along with it. "I'll be right back," he said and disappeared into the apartment. He ventured down the hall to grab the picture he kept on his dresser.

About two minutes later, he came back with a framed picture and handed it to Chloé. "Here," he said and sat back down in his previous seat.

"Thank you, Daddy." Chloé set the picture on her lap and looked down at it. She smiled at what she saw. The man on the left was obviously her father, but he looked a lot younger and didn't have any facial hair. His hair was a lot shorter, too, but still in dreads. The man on the right, she assumed, was Richie. Chloé could see where Richie looked like her friend. His hair was kind of shaggy and long and his eyes were really blue.

"He's kind of cute," Chloé pointed out nonchalantly.

Virgil's mind reeled for a moment. Chloé might as well have been thirteen years old, considering how mature she was. She was a thirteen year old who looked eight; this was a fact Virgil would have been certain of had he not been in the delivery room the night of her birth. It was like she could look like a little girl without actually being one. Nevertheless, Chloé would still always bee his little girl, Virgil was positive of that fact.

Laughing, Virgil relaxed into the seat a little bit. He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. "Yeah," he agreed, "h-he was pretty easy on the eyes." Even if Richie had certainly been a lot more than just 'easy on the eyes,' now was not the time to admit his entire life story to his daughter.

Another pause fell between them, but was quickly interrupted with a question from Virgil. "So," he said, sitting just up slightly, "how exactly do you plan to find him?" It wasn't like Virgil honestly thought his daughter could find people. Especially someone Virgil hadn't seen or heard from in twenty years.

That was, of course, unless Chloé had some sort of secret power for finding... missing… people...

Oh. Shit.

A/N: Aha. Have I mentioned how I love cliffhangers? 'Cause I do! Actually, I wasn't intending on this being a cliffhanger chapter, but this just seemed like an awesome place to stop.

Have I also mentioned this story is a tad AU? If not, then I'm saying it now: This fan-fiction is a tad AU. So, please don't hate me for making him a smoker… or for giving him a random alcoholic uncle…

Also, something else I wanted to mention. In "Future Shock," Batman (at least I think that's who it was) keeps saying to Virgil not to do something will fuck up his future. So what do I do? Just that! We'll find out what he did later on, okay? Okay.

I do claim to have any adequate knowledge of the legal system. So if I'm fucking it up, you're more than welcome to let me know.

Anyway, please review. PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW. I have cookies for my reviewers! –Tosses cookies–