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 live through work. However, how have their personal lives suffered since their failed friendship?
"Let's start with you, I guess. Tell me about yourself."
A man, who went by the name of Jonathan, sat across from Richie at a quaint café in Gotham on a particularly warm Sunday afternoon, clad in a blue blazer with matching suit pants, a white dress shirt and a black tie. Jonathan shifted in his seat slightly, awkwardly. Clearing his throat casually, Jonathan's bright brown eyes darted across the room, as if what he should say could be tangibly found within the walls they were confined. Nervously, he began to speak.
"Well, I—I own my own business…" Jonathan began, and as soon as he started speaking, Richie zoned out.
This Sunday brunch with Jonathan was part of a long list of first dates Richie had had since his breakup from Mike. He wasn't sure if he was actually ready to be dating, but at the age of 42, Richie desperately felt his life flying by and wanted someone to permanently settle down with. So he continually agreed to a series of blind dates one of his coworkers always organized. It didn't take long, though, for Richie to realize that not only did Jonathan not want what Richie wanted, but the man was a longshot from his type. Richie had come to not expect much else, because that was how it always was. Richie had never really met another man that shared the same interests as him; someone that he could fully connect with.
Well, no one except for Virgil. Not even Mike had ever been fully interested in Richie's intelligence. While Virgil obviously never understood what Richie was talking about, at least he tried to understand and come across as at least somewhat interested.
But that was in the past; Richie was moving on, and he was on a date. Besides, Richie was still mad at Virgil, and even if he somehow ran into him again, Richie was positive he would never be able to bring himself to trust him like he had.
"What about you?" Jonathan asked, pulling Richie out of his thoughts.
Richie blinked and realized he hadn't even been listening to Jonathan's speech; he couldn't seem to recall anything the man across from him had said. He blinked again. "What?"
"Tell me about you," Jonathan prompted with a raised eyebrow. "What do you do?"
"Oh," Richie said bleakly. Sighing, he slumped in his seat and scrubbed his face with the heels of his palms. "Well, I'm a professor at Dakota University. I teach Physics."
"That's neat," Jonathan said, leaning toward Richie a little bit and resting on his elbows. Any other person may have believed Jonathan was interested, but Richie could tell by the Jonathan's connected eyebrows and slight frown meant that caring really was the last thing Jonathan was doing. "Is there anything else?" Richie's date questioned.
Richie scratched the side of his forehead, his right nostril slightly flared, and his eyes focused on the table. "Um, I have a black Persian cat named Aria. She's twenty years old." Maybe Richie was intentionally being boring, but he honestly knew for a fact he and Jonathan weren't going anywhere.
"Wow, that's pretty old," Jonathan responded monotone. At that moment, Richie began cursing under his breath for ever agreeing to this blind date—for agreeing to any of them. Jonathan had to the rudest person Richie had ever met. He seemed to have a knack for finding the assholes.
There were several minutes of silence in which each of the men sipped at their coffee. Richie had plain black coffee while Jonathan had some sweet Frappuccino thing that Richie was sure tasted like a disgustingly over-sweetened cookie.
"Look," Richie said, putting his cup down on the table, preparing to reiterate for the umpteenth time his well-practiced lines of rejection. "You seem really nice man, Jonathan," he lied, "but I really don't think this is going to work." Richie let out a long sigh as he watched Jonathan's expression fall into a frown. Perhaps he was being a little harsh, Richie momentarily considered, but he was smart enough to know this blind date was never going to evolve into anything else. "I'm sorry," Richie offered, and scooted back from the table.
"It's alright," Jonathan replied with a sigh. "Thanks, anyway," he said and plastered on a half-smile. Quickly, he collected his coat he had taken off only moments prior and left the café without another word.
Now sitting alone, save for the barista and cashier behind the counter, Richie crossed his arms on the table and laid his head down on them. Letting out a low groan, Richie shut his eyes as he let himself get lost in his thoughts.
Just the previous morning, Richie had been sitting on his floor crying because he had been sorting through pictures of him and Mike and then some of him and Virgil. Now he was sitting alone in a café, in the wakes of another failed attempt to find a long-lasting relationship. This should not have been so hard; it should have been so much easier to meet another man. He had done it easily enough sixteen years ago with Mike; he could do it again, couldn't he?
Richie was positive knew the problem. He was still in love with Virgil. He even considered maybe it had been what drove Mike to another man, but Richie was also positive he had loved Mike fully, with all his heart, because he had. Why couldn't Richie just be mad at Virgil and never want to see him again? Why did he still love someone who hurt him so terribly? At that point, Richie began to rhythmically hit his forehead against his arms at the realization of how fucked up his life was.
The worst part was that Richie was positive that Virgil was living a happier life than he was, and it practically sickened him. How fair was it that Virgil broke Richie's heart and then got to be happier?
"Are you okay, dear?" said a female voice. Richie jerked when he felt a hand placed tenderly on his back.
"'M fine," Richie mumbled.
"I don't think you are, honey," said the voice. Richie groaned internally when he heard a chair being scooted, knowing that the female was sitting down beside him. "There's no one else in this café but my coworker, and you look like you need someone to talk to."
This time Richie vocally groaned, but after a few moments he sat up. Letting out a puff over air and pushing hair from his face, he examined the woman sitting beside him. She was thin and well-endowed (even a gay man was capable of noticing when a woman had nice breasts), mimicking a perfectly sculpted hourglass figure. Her hair was long, lying gracefully around her heart-shaped face. Her skin was a creamy chocolate color, leading Richie to figure she was African-American. From her nametag, Richie noted that her name was Angel.
"It's nothing important," Richie finally said and laid his head back down on his crossed arms. He continued to speak in a mumbled tone. "I need to get home. My cat is probably pissed because she hasn't eaten since early this morning."
As if ignoring what Richie had said, Angel asked, "You're from Dakota?"
"Yes. How do you know that? And why do you care?" Richie asked, a little ruder than he had meant to, but he was tired and frustrated.
Angel seemed to not be phased by Richie's snippy tone. "I overheard you telling that man you work as a professor at Dakota University." Angel paused and considered her next statement carefully, but finally said: "I used to live in Dakota about five years ago."
"Why did you move?" Richie mumbled, moving his head only slightly so that Angel could see his face. He had yet to fully sit up.
"I got divorced," Angel replied. She let out a sigh and got up to start wiping down some tables. She continued to talk to Richie as she cleaned. "My ex-husband was, and probably still is, in love with someone else. I don't think he knows I know, so I just told him we got divorced because he worked too much."
"Why not just tell him the truth?" Richie questioned. From obvious past experiences, Richie had never been one for people skirting around the truth and it sort of annoyed him when people did. Finally, Richie sat up and turned in his seat to watch Angel clean the table directly behind him. "Doesn't he deserve to know the truth?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Angel shrugged. Letting go of the rag, she turned to face Richie, and placed her hands on her hips. She gave Richie a once over and sighed, turning back to the task at hand. "No.
"Look, it's really complicated. He worked sixteen hours a day and then when he came home, he would stare at this stupid picture for an hour before coming to bed. Then the next day it was the same thing all over again. I would say we never had sex, but we managed to have a daughter. After fifteen years, I got sick of it, so I filed for divorce."
"Why did you wait so long?"
Angel sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose momentarily. "I don't know. I guess because I hoped maybe it would change." Angel shook her head slightly, leaving Richie to figure she was mulling over thoughts of how ridiculous it was to assume someone could change. It was a thought Richie had often. "By the time I realized he wasn't going to change, I was already pregnant. It took me three years after she was born to get out."
Richie had left Mike as soon as he discovered he was cheating, so Richie was confused. "I'm sorry I keep asking you questions about your life, Angel, but I have just one more," Richie said and cleared his throat. When he saw Angel look up and smile, he asked, "Why didn't you file for divorce as soon as you realized it wasn't going to change?"
"Oh, that's easy," Angel began as she looked back to see some customers coming into the café. As she made her way back to the counter, she looked over her shoulder and said to Richie, "I stayed so long after our daughter was born because babies are expensive, and he makes a lot of money." Angel shrugged once behind the counter. "Maybe that's not very nice, but he didn't love me, so I figured the least he could do was pay for his daughter." After taking the customers' orders, she looked back to Richie and said, "She's still expensive, but the child support I get from him is amazing; almost $3000 a month."
A whistle inadvertently left Richie's lips at the number. A quick mental calculation presented Richie with knowledge that Angel's ex-husband made about two hundred grand. Not even Richie made nearly that much money. He couldn't help but wonder what her ex-husband did for a living, but he figured it wasn't his place to ask; he didn't even feel comfortable knowing how much someone he'd never met made for a living.
"Sweetie," Angel said, breaking Richie of his thoughts. "Try not to worry too much about finding a man. It'll happen when you least expect it," she said with a smile which earned her a warm smile from Richie. Deciding she had done her duty, Angel turned away from Richie and began cleaning up the supplies she had just used.
Maybe Angel was right; maybe he needed to stop worrying about finding a relationship and let it come as it would. The only problem was it didn't stop Richie from seeing his life pass right before him, and that he desperately wanted to find someone to share it with.
And it definitely did not change the fact—for the first time in his life—he would be spending Christmas completely alone. Sure his cat would be there—and he did have an aunt, but she disapproved of his lifestyle, so Richie opted for never seeing her—and while Richie loved his cat like a daughter, Aria wasn't exactly a great conversationalist. Not just because she was a cat, but also because she was completely deaf.
With a sigh of contentment, Richie picked himself up from the seat he occupied and headed for the door, thanking Angel with a warm smile for the talk and the coffee. Once he was safely in his car, Richie began the fifteen minute trip back to Dakota. For the first time in a while, Richie was actually feeling pretty good.
A/N: Oh, shit, guys, plot twist! Brownies for anyone who figured out who Angel is!
You would not believe how long this chapter took me to write. I think I redid it 10-15 times (for some reason, introducing Richie into the story was painfully difficult), but I'm pleased with the outcome of this chapter.
And holy old cat, Batman. (By the way, Aria's name is pronounce R-ee-uh. It's an Italian name meaning "lioness." For a cat. Aha. Richie's so creative!) I'll briefly discuss Aria more in the next chapter. There's more about Richie to come!
Thanks to all my readers who have been keeping up with my story! I really, really appreciate it!
As always, please review! Constructive criticism is still welcome! I just made some fresh baked cookies!