"I said, out." She threw the bagel at him, threatened him with a wave of the napkin holder. He grinned broadly and stepped out the door. The bell tinkled as the door closed. The man stood looking through the glass for several seconds before turning and walking away. His shadow fell through the venetian blinds on the cafe windows until he rounded the corner. The waitress retreated back behind the counter top.

Richie watched the scene, unamused. He sat on a stool at the cafe counter, hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. The cracked vinyl on the seat squeaked as he twisted the seat around. It was barely eight o'clock on a Sunday morning, and Richie wasn't quite sure what he was doing awake except that he couldn't sleep. He'd been sitting in the cafe since it opened at six, had watched since about six thirty as the woman working behind the counter argued with some guy who meandered in shortly after Richie. At first Richie took the guy to be a local nutcase; decided he wouldn't interfere unless their argument got physical. Richie was just passing through and he didn't want to get involved in anything more than necessary.

The woman -- her name tag identified her as Kadi -- obviously knew the guy. Or at least knew his type. Richie never guessed him to be her boyfriend, until she grabbed the first bagel and, lifting it high, pronounced their relationship over.

The clock over the counter ticked on.

In his hands, the untouched cup of coffee had long since grown cold. Richie stared into the mug, counted the grains of instant coffee mix that floated on the surface. Three. He knew that already. The number hadn't changed, even though he kept counting in case it had. He swirled the cup around, watched the grains sink into the little whirlpool in the middle, come floating to the surface a few seconds later. He didn't want to be here, but he wasn't sure where else to go.

He'd fought this morning. Won -- of course. The opponent was a lovely young-looking lady, not more than twenty-five at her first death. Maybe not much older than he in actual years. Said her name was Alison Turner. She bore a passing resemblance to Kadi, especially in profile. Both young, short brown hair curling around her forehead and ears, and small features.

Kadi leaned on the counter across from him, her weight on her elbows. "Can't say I'm glad to be rid of him." She jerked her head towards the door. Her breath smelled of coffee and spearmint gum. "Don't know why I stuck with him so long."

Richie ignored her, swirled the coffee mug again.

"You want a refill?" she asked, stepping back from the counter. "I can get you a refill. You've been hanging onto that one for a while. A fresh coffee. No charge." She grabbed the coffee pot off the burner and filled a new mug, set it down in front of Richie.

"No thanks," he said, pushing the mug away.

Kadi shrugged and lifted the drink to her own lips. One cheek bulged slightly as she shoved her gum into it. "So, you've been here awhile. What're you running from?"

Richie looked up a her, catching her gaze for a moment, then pointedly looked back down into the drink. He hooked his feet in metal footrest circling the stool. He really didn't want to talk to her, or anyone else right now. He needed to sort out recent events for himself.

"I'll bet it's a girl," Kadi continued, seemingly oblivious to his body language. "Guys only act like this over a girl." She sipped from the mug, grimaced, and spooned several teaspoons of sugar into the mix. "My guy, he was a strange one -- never would give me a straight answer about anything. Told me stories about himself. But the thing is, you see, his stories changed every day. Once he said he was a 4587 year old vampire. Another time he claimed to be a dragon in human form from some distant planet. Another time an assassin from Mars. He was just as human as you and me, though. Would've been nice to get the truth from him just once. Girls like to hear the truth."

Yeah, Richie thought. And you're telling all this to a real-life Immortal. He almost smiled at the thought. Kadi really did remind him of Alison. She'd even yammered on and on, begged him not to fight her, not to take her head. He didn't listen. He hadn't listened to much of anyone lately, not even his own conscience. He just fought and killed every Immortal he ran across, his main weapon a tightly focussed anger, sharper even than the sword in his hand. He didn't know how many he'd killed in recent months. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

It was her Quickening that knocked some sense into him. So brief, so weak. The few flashes of memory received in the energy storm showed only a peaceful life, a person trying to live as normal a life as possible. Much like he before Mac tried to.... He shoved that thought down before it could form. It only made him angry and he did too many stupid things when angry.

Like fight some girl who didn't want to fight; who barely uttered her name before he took her head. He started to cry before the Quickening ended. Suddenly he wasn't angry anymore, at least not at Mac. He climbed to his feet with shaking legs and a racing heart and somehow found himself standing on the street outside this cafe without memory of getting there.

"It would be really nice to date a normal guy for once," Kadi stated wistfully. She tilted her head and smiled. "I think it's time for a change, a normal date with a normal guy. Don't you agree? A normal guy? I mean... oh, you know." She laughed, a sound so ditzy it had to be faked.

"No," Richie replied. He stood up, shoved the cold mug away. "I don't know. I don't even know what normal is anymore." Whatever it was, it wasn't 'normal' like he used to understand the word, either before or after his first death. But he had to go find out. It was time to return to the beginning, confront the problem and the person. He slapped some money on the counter, more than enough to cover the coffee he didn't drink, and walked out.

Kadi yelled a number after him, possibly her phone number. He wasn't really paying attention.

A memory flashed in his head of his sword descending, slicing through a neck. A memory from Alison's point of view. She knew the Game and thought she understood why she had to die. Richie doubted that. He didn't understand why he had to die. He got lucky and lived.

She didn't.

END