What to do now?

[Kitmarch]

Kit sighed again. She was cold, damp, tired, hungry and totally miserable. The rooftops overlooking Talos docks were currently in low cloud and totally lacking handy heat vents.

She wasn't sure how she'd gone from sobbing herself to sleep in her skyway apartment to waking face up in a sewer under Founders Falls next to an empty bottle of Tabasco, but the stream of annoying smugness emanating from the back of her consciousness was a fairly good indicator. She considered taking another shower, but the last one didn't seem to have removed the faint smell traces she swore were still there. She also considered opening another pack of chewing gum. But then her tastebuds were on strike anyway and it was just making her appetite worse.

Although it was hard to make out, Kit had located the boat some time ago. She'd spent the last two hours on the roof, trying to make herself move, but part of her just wasn't responding.

This was silly. He was down there waiting. She'd left him down there for more than a day now and he must be thinking she wasn't coming. So why couldn't she move?

According to Sam, he just wanted to talk. That sounded simple, but it couldn't and probably wouldn't be anywhere near that easy. He'd said a lot of things last time and none of them were pleasant.

Of course, if she waited much longer, the situation would resolve itself. But that wasn't a proper ending and would make things worse for everyone.

Of course, that smug bastard in her head expected her to do precisely that and was positively looking forward to all the self-recrimination that would follow. No way was she having that.

Moving quickly before she lost her nerve again, Kit dropped off the roof and made her way over to the dock. The place was pretty much deserted at this hour and that suited her well enough. It didn't take her long to locate the boat. Raising an eyebrow at the name on the side, Kit clambered laboriously onboard before she could change her mind.

Looking around, there was no-one on deck. Hardly surprising given the hour and weather. Still there were a few items strewn around which indicated occupancy, including a large pile of blankets. Kit gratefully wrapped herself up in a couple and considered. He was probably inside. Or belowdecks. Or whatever nautical term applied.

She sat down and considered the nearby door. She was trying to get her nerve up enough to open it and go in after him, when nervous exhaustion caught up with her and she fell asleep by the door, cocooned in warm blankets.

[Shadowe]

Richard sat, engrossed in his work. Dozens of sheets of paper were strewn across the desk, scrawled equations and harried crossings out decorating most of them. He chewed the end of the pencil he held as he stared at the leaf in front of him. He muttered as he thought, occasionally dashing a quick notation across one or another of the notes he'd been making.

"Accounting for gravitational variations in a non-Euclidean space-time environment... Damn. This is General Relativity. Oh, congratulations, Huntington. You've just reformulated a piece of ninety-year-old physics. Ninety-one. Whoopee. Fine, back to first principles, then. Assuming a standard inverse-square propogation of dimensional field strength..."

A light flashed on the console behind him, and his head rose sharply. Whirling desperately to his feet he threw himself over the table. An instant later a battle-armoured figure rose from amongst the scattered paper, a ball of glowing energy clenched in one fist.

He scanned the compartment frantically, absorbing every photon he could find, trying to discern the source. It took him perhaps five or ten seconds to realise where it had come from. Security system. Intruder on the boat. Damn.

"This place is not where I want to have a fight. This bloody thing cost enough to buy, let alone repair." His whispered murmur sounded ridiculously loud inside his helmet.

Stepping round the desk he moved quietly to the security console and checked which alarm had been triggered. Main Deck. Probably a seagull. Again. He patted the hull as he stood there. "Don't worry, girl. It's not personal. I'll get you properly cleaned back in England."

He tapped a quick command into the console, and observed the monitor as the deck camera swept an arc. Nothing. Pursing his lips he considered. Just another seagull, then.

Resetting the alarm, he shrugged and the armour vanished, leaving him once more clad in his normal working clothes. He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. So damn tired. So damn bloody tired. Can't sleep. Too much to do. To much to think about. Don't stop. If you stop, you start to think about... Stop it! If she turns up, she turns up. If she doesn't, then... If she doesn't, you worry about it then.

Yawning, he reached out and sucked in all the light. The cabin went dark for a moment. When the light once more filled the low-ceilinged room, he appeared slightly more refreshed. He left the office, made himself a coffee and returned to tackle the work. Again.

It was as he sat down and sipped the steaming cup that he heard it. A rhythmic rumbling noise. Frowning, he closed his eyes and tried to focus. Where is that bloody sound coming from? He darted about the room for a minute, louder here, quieter here. What the heck is making that blasted...

Then he saw the blinking light. Well, sort of blinking. On for three, off for two, on for three, off for two. The blasted intercom. He moved to the box on the wall and strained his ears. Breathing. It's someone breathing. Close to one of the intercom points. There's someone on the boat.

Black cloth cloaked him an instant later. Much better for fighting in the dark. He turned once more to the security panel and punched a new command into the console.

Main Deck. Port side. Next to the refridgerator.

"Why isn't it on the bloody camera, then?" He muttered. The windswept deck appeared on the monitor a moment later, and he manually panned the camera over.

Nothi... Wait... What's that? A boot. Peeking out from under some of the blankets he'd left up there. Probably a tramp looking for a warm night. Well, he could have the bloody blankets, but no way was Richard letting him stay on the boat.

Changing back into his normal clothes once more - don't know why, half the heroes in the city know my 'secret' identity - he moved aft, down the short corridor and up the steps to the door. He made no attempt to be quiet as he pushed the handle down and swung the door out, and even less as he clumped up the last few steps on to the deck.

I need to get another camera up here, he thought as he moved toward the mound of blankets. He crouched down and gently peeled the top blanket away to reveal a familiar face, crowned in purple hair. He froze. He blinked. He stared, as a trickle of tears rolled down his face.

Dashing them away with one hand, he bent and gently lifted her in his arms, trying not to wake her. It was always a surprise how heavy she was, but he didn't care. All he could do was look at her.

As he carried her inside he whispered, "Welcome aboard, my dear. Welcome aboard."

He carried her into the bedroom, and placed her carefully on the bed.

"Sleep, my dear. Good night." He turned and shut the door, and leaned heavily on the partition wall opposite. Tears ran freely from his eyes as he moved back into the office.

Plenty of time to talk later. She's here.

She's here.

She's here.