Author's Notes & Disclaimer
I am going through the process of uploading stories to my new and relocated fan fiction archive (http://www.alt-realities.net/efiction/), and as I'm doing so, I will be posting TP fan fiction that I find that was never posted.
Such as this.
This story is a part of the Forever Tomorrow universe and it takes place in the Fall of 1998, according to the universe timeline. Specifically, this story occurs after "Reunions," "Connections," and "Learning Curve."
Summary: Ami shares a moment with Richie.
Disclaimer: If you recognize them, they don't belong to me. The characters of Richie Ryan, Duncan MacLeod, and the concept of Immortality and the Watchers do not belong to me. Neither does the character of Ami Jackson or the Tomorrow People. These characters belong to Panzer/Davis, Rhysher/Gaumont Television, Roger Damon Price, Thames/Tetra and ITV television respectively. I use them here without permission, but not for profit. Feel free to print this out for personal use, but it is not to be archived anywhere without my permission.
Feedback: Send it to michele@alt-realities.net
Other stories in the series can be found at the TPFICT archives, and (eventually) at my archive located at http://www.alt-realities.net.
They were alone.
It was funny, but now that Ami thought about it, she and Richie had never been alone for more than a few moments. Always there had been another Tomorrow Person present, or Mac was lurking upstairs in the loft or downstairs in the dojo, and she never really questioned it. And Richie had seemed comfortable with it; at least the Immortal never questioned their lack of privacy.
But they were alone now. Mac was in France or Switzerland somewhere 'visiting an old friend' and Richie was locking up the dojo for the night. Or, he had been when she teleported in. She had asked if Mac was back in town, and as Richie explained the older Immortal's whereabouts, it suddenly became quite clear to her that for the first time since meeting him, she was alone with Richie.
Not that she didn't trust Richie enough to be alone with him. In fact, she trusted Richie completely and totally. And that scared her.
Ami hardly knew the young Immortal. Yes, he had saved her life and risked his life, and his head, to challenge Maris and protect the Tomorrow People. But he was not what he appeared to be. Richie was not simply a youthful faced knave. He was dangerous. He had killed and would kill again. The face he carried would be the face he wore for decades or centuries to come. Richie Ryan was about as opposite from her and the Tomorrow People as opposite could be.
Yet, he was a friend. He could be trusted. And when he turned the boyish smile in her direction, mischief gleaming in his clear blue eyes, Ami's heart turned somersaults. And she became quickly aware of how hard she had fallen.
It was a new experience. Both frightening and exciting at the same time. She looked eagerly forward to seeing the Immortal. Spending time with him was a drug of which she could not get enough.
He was five years her senior, and with his worldly experience, Richie should never have taken a second glance in her direction. Yet, he had. Ami knew that he was attracted to her. He kept a respectful distance, always the gentleman, but her telepathic awareness of him made his attraction known -- sometimes embarrassingly known.
"Anyway, Mac said that he'll be back near the end of the month." Richie double checked the door and shrugged. "But you know Mac."
Ami giggled. "No, Richie. I don't know Mac."
He gave her a sheepish grin and the shake of his head. "You're right, I guess you don't know Mac. He does this from time to time, disappears for one reason or another. He comes back, but I never know when to expect him."
"Are you his designated loft-sitter?"
"I guess you could call me that." Richie tossed the dojo key in the air and caught it. "I've had a key to this place for years. I keep the place running when Mac's not here and I don't know. I kind of like the loft.
"So, what do you say we go upstairs, I grab a shower and then we see if Mac has anything edible in this place?"
"And if he doesn't?" Ami followed him into the freight elevator.
"Well," Richie announced as he pulled the gate down, "I've never had a problem with pizza."
****
"So, anyway, we end up finding art work, tons of it, behind a fake wall." Richie concluded his story and leaned back against the couch. "The estate was saved and I decided that I would never, ever impersonate an actual living person again. Well, not unless I really had to."
Ami wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Did they really handcuff you to the bed?" Richie nodded, a faint tint of pink coloring his cheeks. "Oh yeah. Of course, until I sensed another Immortal, I never knew I had it in me to break a bed."
"And what happened to Richard Redstone?"
"He went home." Richie smiled. "With none the wiser, thank goodness. Of course, if you ever hear Mac tell that story, don't believe it. He makes it seem like he single-handedly saved the day."
Ami simply gazed at the Immortal over her glass. She had known Richie long enough to know a reckless and rash personality when she saw one.
All the more reason that her growing interest in him frightened her.
"Okay, maybe if it hadn't been for Mac's help, things wouldn't have gone as smoothly." Richie raised a hand in objection, before she could interrupt. "But, I would have sorted things out. Eventually."
"Eventually?"
"You've been listening to Joe and Mac too much." His blue eyes challenged her. "Did I do so bad in London?"
No, he hadn't done badly in London at all. In fact, Ami didn't know where any of the Tomorrow People would be or what would have happened to them if it hadn't been for Richie's timely intervention. Call it coincidence, or call it fate, but meeting him at the airport had been a saving grace. Meeting him again under Cleopatra's Needle had been the most phenomenal luck Ami had ever had.
"No, you didn't." Ami whispered, her full attention temporarily focused on her hands. But he had left London; he had left and they had both believed that they would never see one another again. Richie had left her with a Pandora's box of feelings and emotions that she didn't know what to do with. And when she had finally been able to close the lid on that box, and put the young Immortal out of her mind, Cat had come here, inevitably drawing Ami back to Richie. And Richie back to Ami.
Fate. Or some high power's idea of a very cruel joke.
"Well," Ami made a light joke, feeling his eyes on her. "You did leave."
"I had to." There was no humor or amusement in his voice now. It sounded thick, introspective.
Curious now, she raised her eyes to his. Her breath caught in her throat and a shiver raced down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature of the loft. He gazed at her with such blinding intensity that she actually felt her heart skip.
The blue eyes burned, reminding her curiously of fire on water. His voice was deeper, drier than she had ever heard it. Something about the sound of it, mingled with the embers flashing in his eyes made her heart pound faster. "Do you believe in fate, Ami? That maybe something's are just meant to be or to happen?"
Again came the chill. This time it was because of how closely his words echoed her earlier thoughts.
"Maybe." She couldn't speak above a whisper. She couldn't escape the depths and intensity of his gaze either and she wondered if it was her imagination that the room was growing warmer.
Richie slid closer, narrowing the space between them on the couch. He slid one arm across the back of the couch, his hand resting near, but not quite touching her shoulder. The fingers of his other hand lightly brushed her knee. "Or maybe that two people are just kind of meant to meet?"
"Maybe." Ami's voice barely croaked out of her throat.
"You know, when I left London, I never thought that I would see you again." He moved closer still, his knee resting against hers. Richie rested one hand on the couch pillow behind her, the other dropping to gently brush against her shoulder. He was so close, she could smell him: soap and shampoo mixed with the spicy musk of after-shave. Ami could feel the heat of his body, and she was vibrantly aware of him on all levels -- physically, physiologically, and psychically. The sensations made her mouth dry and her head spin.
"I never thought that I would see you again either," she managed, taking a deep breath.
"Did you want to?" His hand caressed her shoulder, her neck, sending ripples of electricity throughout her entire body. There was a hunger in his eyes, one that Ami had imagined and read about in books, but never actually seen. It made her tremble, butterflies releasing themselves to fly around her stomach. It scared her; it intrigued her.
Her breathing was quick and shallow, and the room was definitely warmer. She hardly recognized the breathlessness to her own voice. "Yes, I did."
For a moment, nothing existed apart from the depths of his eyes. Like blue waves of the ocean, they drowned her and she lost herself in them. Then he leaned in close, and she tilted her head toward him, her eyes closing as she waited for what she knew was coming next.
His mouth was warm and the kiss softer than what she had expected. Ami tasted the cola on his lips, a full awareness of him washing over her. He tasted both salty and sweet, familiar and yet, unknown. It was a simple matter to get lost in his kiss, in the warmth of his mouth and the gentleness of his hands caressing her back. He kissed her with tenderness tinted with his years of experience, causing her blood to race and igniting a few flames that she had never known existed. She shivered in his arms, wishing that kisses were sustenance so that the moment might never end. And she would happily starve to go on kissing him.
"I've wanted to do that a long time," Richie breathed when at last they parted. His fingertips rested on her cheek, his thumb brushing her lips. She trembled at the touch.
"Then what took you so long?" Her brazen audacity surprised her nearly as much as her breathlessness.
Richie smiled. "Waiting for the right moment, I guess. I didn't want to scare you away. Did I?"
Ami shook her head. "No. Do I look scared?"
"No," Richie laughed softly, his fingers moving to stroke the curve of her jawbone. His fingers were warm, leaving a heat and tingling where they brushed. "No, you don't look scared at all."
And, Ami realized as she leaned against him, one arm comfortably around her shoulder as he continued the tales of his exploits, that she wasn't the least bit scared at all. Whatever this was, it felt right . . . it felt wonderful and she couldn't wait to see in what direction it went.
***
End