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?

Three hours had passed since the morning's occurrences by the time Virgil was stepping out of the shower. Standing in front of the shower, he ran his hands through his dreads thrice in an attempt to shake out any excess water. When he was satisfied with the dryness of his hair, he turned toward the mirror to examine his reflection. Gently, he grabbed his face between his hands and ran them down his cheeks. His face was slender, with his chin coming to a rounded-off point. He looked, Virgil noted, like he had when he was a teenager. The only difference was he'd grown some facial hair similar to what he had seen his future self with. He looked like his future self, and in every way he was that Virgil, but at the same time he wasn't; he certainly wasn't as muscular, but that was too be expect, because he wasn't a hero. Plain and simple, Virgil did not see in that mirror what he had seen thirty years ago.

Virgil drew in a deep breath and turned around to grab a towel that was hanging on the wall. He wrapped himself in it and returned to examine his reflection in the mirror. He had spent the better part of two decades trying to figure out what had went wrong; what had happened to make his life go so differently. Not that he really obsessed over it, but it was something he pondered. Sometimes because he wondered why he hadn't continued on as Static, and sometimes because he wondered why he hadn't stay friends with Richie. Of course Virgil knew the reason for not staying friends with Richie was his fault, but why had it so dramatically altered his future that he had married Angelica? Wasn't seeing his future supposed to me that it was going to happen?

Virgil blinked and leaned in closer to the mirror, having noticed that his dreads were starting to come apart. Letting out a generic sigh, Virgil bit at the corner of his upper lip while wrapping one of his dreads around his finger lazily. Standing straight up again, Virgil cleared his throat as one final thought about his future skirted through his mind. He thought perhaps, maybe, it was possible that because he had seen his future meant it wasn't going to happen. Perhaps, Virgil considered, his future was meant to have stayed a surprise. And if that were the case, Virgil wasn't sure if he regretted seeing his future or not, because he loved Chloé but he really missed Richie. Even worse, Virgil had given up years ago on ever getting Richie back, even if Chloé could find him; it was simply more complicated than that.

Virgil sighed again, shaking his head free of the thoughts; free of the memories. He had a daughter to worry about and a little girl in Gotham to pick up, meaning Virgil didn't really have time to mull over the past.

Leaving the bathroom, Virgil skirted quickly into his bedroom. When the door was securely shut, he let the towel drop to his feet and walked to his dresser. From the top drawer, he grabbed a pair of socks and boxers. From the second drawer he picked out a plaid dark gray, long-sleeved, button up flannel shirt, and then picked a red cotton tee-shirt to pair with the dark gray. From the bottom drawer, he withdrew a pair of black jeans. Once he had all his clothes, he sat down on the edge of his bed and got dressed.

Once he was completely dressed, Virgil went to his closet and grabbed a pair of black boots. He stepped into them, laced them, and walk out of his room, tossing the towel from earlier into a hamper on his way out.

"Chloé," Virgil said as he approached his daughter's door, "are you ready to go?"

"One second, Daddy," Chloé called out to him through the closed door.

Virgil cleared his throat as he leaned up against the wall, opposite of where the door swung. He crossed his arms and feet and waited for Chloé. "You're not going to be too long, are you, Chloé?"

"No, Daddy," Chloé replied distractedly. "I'll be out really soon. I'm just finishing a present I'm making."

Virgil raised an eyebrow with interest, a small smile forming across his lips. "Who's the present for?"

"It's a surprise," Chloé replied, her voice getting louder as she spoke. Virgil stood up straight when she appeared in the doorway. "I'm ready to go now, Daddy."

Virgil grinned down at Chloé. "Well, alright, then. Let's go," he said and the two of them headed outside to his car.

"Are you positive this is the house, Chloé?" Virgil asked as he pulled into a driveway that lead up to a two-story townhouse.

"I'm positive, Daddy."

"Alright, then, let's go get Rachael," Virgil said with a smile and unbuckled his seatbelt.

Once he was out of the car, Virgil was already five feet behind Chloé, who was running down the driveway to the house. Virgil laughed at the sight of Chloé's excitement to see her friend. When he finally caught up with her, she was knocking on the door and had already ringed the doorbell twice.

"I think that's good, Chloé," Virgil said with a chuckle, placing his hand on Chloé's fist. "I have a feeling Rachael probably heard you."

After two minutes of waiting, the door was finally answered. In the doorway stood a little girl with blonde hair that Virgil assumed was Rachael, and next to Rachael was a man a little taller than Virgil who had a hand place on Rachael's shoulder. He had fiery red hair that was cut short, a muscular build and a tanned completion. Virgil almost didn't recognize the man.

Almost.

Virgil went wide-eyed, inadvertently stumbling a few steps back, while the man standing in front of him had an expression of amusement. For several moments, Virgil was unable to do anything except stare, his heart practically beating out of his chest and his palms a little bit sweaty. It wasn't that Virgil couldn't fend for himself, or even that he was afraid, but seeing an old bully tended to make a person nervous. At some point Chloé and Rachael had gone off to the living room, because when he came too, they were no longer standing at the door.

Rachael's father was the first to speak, breaking the silence amongst them. "Well, well, if it ain't Hawkins."

Virgil cleared his throat. "Um…" he stammered, rocking on his heels. He said the only thing that came to mind. "Francis?"

"Last time I checked," Francis huffed. He narrowed his gaze on Virgil. "You can calm down, Hawkins; I ain't gonna hurt ya," he said but Virgil's standoffish, ready to run, body language didn't cease, so Francis softened his own expression. "I'm changed now. I've got a kid and a wife."

Virgil's eyebrows shot up with interest, unintentionally causing him to relax some. When he spoke, his tone flickered with the same degree of interest that his facial expression was displaying. Obviously Virgil knew Francis had a daughter, but he never expected him to get married. "Wow, really? You have a wife? Who is she?"

"Teresa," Francis said and gestured Virgil's attention to the woman standing in the living room, talking with Rachael and Chloé. Francis shifted and looked back to Virgil before he spoke. "Talon, I guess you would know her as, but she doesn't go by that anymore," he informed, but of course Virgil knew who Teresa was, and it sort of shocked him that Francis had gotten married to her. Francis never seemed like her type.

"Well, congratulations, Francis," Virgil offered with a warm smile and an affirmative nod. "How long have you been married?"

"Ten years." Francis paused, wracking his brain for something to say. He finally settled on: "Ya got a wife?"

"No," Virgil said bleakly, his eyes darting to the ground as he kitted his eyebrows. "Not anymore. I've been divorced for five years."

"I'm sorry," Francis said sympathetically. It even surprised Virgil how serious Francis sounded and he looked up at Francis again. "What 'bout Foley? How's he?" he asked casually.

"I don't know," Virgil replied quietly, avoiding eye contact with Francis once again. He had really been doing it for the whole of the conversation, finding this sudden meeting of an old foe rather awkward, but now he really did not want to make eye contact with Francis. "We're not friends anymore," he said and suddenly grimaced, the words almost tasting strange in his mouth. Virgil wasn't really used to telling people he wasn't friends with Richie anymore, even after twenty years; even if he had come to terms with it, it was still strange. Most of the people that knew them as friends, knew that they were completely inseparable; they were practically attached at the hip.

Not to mention, Virgil absolutely abhorred the looks of pity he got when he divulged that information.

The same look of pity he was getting from Francis, which made Virgil feel even more uncomfortable. The last person Virgil expected to take pity on his life situations was Francis. As a matter of a fact, the last person Virgil ever expected to run into again, save for Richie, was Francis.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Francis said, unfolding his arms and standing up a little straighter. "What happened?" he asked, and Virgil couldn't really tell if Francis genuinely cared or just wanted to seem like he did.

He decided on a vague answer for the sake of being polite, even if being polite with Francis was the last thing Virgil ever expect to be doing. "We just… we had… a falling out," he said, stuttering a little, and only remotely lying. There was no one, except for Richie, that knew one hundred percent about what happened that night. No one really needed to know. "We… um… we had a pretty big fight twenty years ago and we haven't spoken since."

"Sounds like you've had a pretty hard life. Sorry to hear that," Francis noted and patted Virgil's shoulder which earned Francis eye contact, and a look of shock, from Virgil. "Like I told ya, Hawkins, I've changed. People can do that, ya know."

Virgil rolled his eyes and leaned against the support beam on the front porch. "I know people can change, Francis. It's just strange to run into you is all. Last time I saw you, you were so—" Virgil cut himself off abruptly, realizing that Francis didn't know about him being Static, or that he had been at the second big bang, so he quickly changed what he was going to say. "The last time I saw you, you were a bully and a villain. So, it's strange."

Francis shrugged. "Well, I ain't anymore. Burnin' down shit gets old after a while. And I have a kid to feed, so I got a job."

"What do you do?" Virgil questioned.

"I'm a welder."

Virgil couldn't help the snort that he made. When he earned himself a glare from Francis, he said quickly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it," and rose his hands up in defense, apologetically. "It's a suitable job for you."

Francis rolled his eyes and leaned back against the door again. "Well, what do you do, Hawkins?"

Virgil chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, as if he were debating how to answer the incredibly easy question. "I'm a lawyer," he finally said. Thinking about it, it was a pretty suitable job for him as well. Even if it wasn't using his powers on the job like Francis probably was.

Francis nodded a couple of times, slowly. "Nice," he said, simply.

An awkward silence fell amongst the two. Having not been friends in high school really did mean they didn't have much to talk about now. They had done the typical catching up spiel, and now they were out of things to converse about. So, when Chloé and Rachael returned to the door, Virgil had been delighted by the break of awkward silence. "Daddy, can we please go?"

Virgil glanced at Francis who merely shrugged. He looked back down at Chloé and said with a smile, "Yeah, we can go." He watched as Rachael and Chloé ran for his car and climbed into the backseat. He looked back to look at Francis who was standing by the doorknob. "When do you want her back?"

Francis paused and looked into the house for a minute. He seemed to nod at something and then looked back at Virgil. "I guess whenever you want to bring her back. Just sometime before Christmas." There was a pause as Francis fished through his pocket for a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. "Here," he said, handing Virgil the paper, "this is m' cell phone number. Call me before ya wanna bring her home."

Virgil accepted the piece of paper with a smile and a nod. As a last moment thought, he ripped off a corner of the paper and wrote down his own phone cell number phone number with a pen he had had in his pocket. "Here," Virgil offered. "In case you need to get ahold of me."

"Thanks, Hawkins," Francis said, accepting the paper. "Nice seeing you," he said and disappeared into the house, shutting the door behind him.

Virgil blinked, staring at the closed door for several moments. He sniffed once before turning around to head back to his car. The trip back to his car proved to be one of the longest trips to his vehicle he had seemingly ever taken. Francis certainly had changed; that much was obvious. It didn't change the fact that the meeting was awkward and made Virgil feel uncomfortable. More than twenty years had gone by since Virgil last saw Francis, and he had been trying to scorch him. Now, all of a sudden, Francis was domesticated. He was a civilized person who could hold civilized conversations and Virgil had felt uncomfortable about it the entire time. He was especially uncomfortable by the fact that Francis had asked about Richie, because Francis had remembered and had cared. That's what racked Virgil's mind the most: Francis had cared.

Murmuring incoherent nothingness, Virgil got into the driver's seat, and once everyone in the car was buckled and ready, he pulled out of the driveway and headed back toward Dakota while Rachael and Chloé pondered Virgil's question about what they wanted to do with the day.

When Chloé successfully talked Rachael into meeting her cousin, Chelsea, and they decided that was what they wanted to do with the day, Virgil turned the opposite direction of his apartment to Sharon's house. It had been awhile since Virgil had seen Sharon, so he figured it would be a nice way to spend the day. Not that he would ever admit that; even at forty-two, Virgil was as stubborn as a teenager.

A/N: I have nothing to say.

Did you like my plot-twist with Francis? I thought it was amusing.

Also, who loved the naked Virgil part. I figured it was only fair to give you a naked Virgil "description," considering I have you a naked Richie one in chapter six.

Sorry if it seems like the last two chapters are plot-fillers, but I didn't want to give you guys a ton of angst. Like I said last chapter, there's a lot of it coming and I want to give you some cute and fluffy (and do a little bit more character development) before that.

Chapter 10 will be when more angst comes. I'm calling it.

Sorry I made Francis sound like... um... an uneducated hick? I don't know. That's just what he sounds like in my head, and how I've seen him portrayed in other stories. So I went with it, and that's what I got.

Anyway. Please review! Constructive criticism is welcome! Cookies and hugs for everyone that does! (I accept anon reviews, by the way. I know I never mentioned that, but if you want to review anonymously, you can. =3)

Also, this is seriously my longest chapter at 2,940 words. (Including the Author's Note, Disclaimer and Summary.) XD I didn't expect it to be so long, but whatever. Enjoy my words. XD