England 2008

He was dead, and a dead end. Blake Ross didn't exist, and the little old lady's son Lucas' friend Richie had apparently never existed either. Just who was this motherfucker? He had to be someone, and come from somewhere, yet all attempts at finding out proved fruitless.

But that had led to a rather interesting thought. No one would miss a ghost.

Belinda was entertaining Elsie. They were safe at the flat, both under the impression she had a match and that she was taking a cab to and from the show for safety. But she didn't have a match, and she wasn't taking a cab. Instead she was having a stroll along the river front.

Her brand new leather jacket was warm, which she was thankful for, because the night was unusually cool. It was still stiff, needing to be broken in, but that she was prepared to deal with. That nagging feeling that she was being watched had the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up, but that sensation hadn't left for weeks now, so she couldn't be sure.

Even so, wasn't that what she wanted? It was time to put an end to things. She didn't like it, but what the hell was she supposed to do when no one believed her, Elsie, and Belinda? It seemed like even Constable Bennett had given up at this point. Which, she was sure, was what “Blake Ross” wanted. Somehow, he always knew, didn't he?

Aidan bit the inside of her lip as she noticed a darkened area ahead where some of the lights were out. It sent a little chill up her spine. She should avoid it, maybe turn back and head the other way. And that was precisely why she kept going. Something about it seemed too perfect, gave her a heavy feeling in her chest.

Her gloved fingers curled inside her pockets, her left hand into a fist and her right around a handle. She took a breath that she hoped would calm her a bit, but it didn't work. The glow of the light behind her continued to fade, and the halo from the next one was still far away. It got darker and darker. Her heart pounded harder and harder.

From her right, a flash. Or maybe just her imagination. She took another step. The barest rustling sound. One more stride. The movement came from her left, she had just enough time to get her hands out of her pockets before she hit the ground. She rolled with it to absorb the impact. She even let Blake come out on top.

“Hello love. I was starting to think we'd never see each other again.”

“Perish the thought. How could I forget about you, Richie.”

He snickered.

“My my, we have been busy, haven't we? I haven't heard that name in a while.”

“I could make up a few more for you, if you'd like.”

“Oh, I'm sure you could love, I'm sure you could. Unfortunately... you've become a little too much of a pain in my ass. I think we're going to have to cut our little tryst short.”

His hand moved for her throat, she lashed out with her right. He gave a startled cry as he fell backward, fingers reaching up to his cheek where she had cut him.

“You cunt!”

She moved first, driving her shoulder into his stomach before he could try to tackle her. Under his center of gravity, catching him off guard, she managed to drive him back into the brace of the water-front structure. She felt the momentary slackening of his body that indicated she had knocked the wind out of him.

No hesitation, she swung her right hand as hard as she could. It was a strange, strange feeling, the blade breaking through his clothing and flesh. He managed to find the air to scream, but it wasn't that loud. Or maybe it didn't seem that way because her heartbeat was all she could hear. He swung at her, she ducked. His fist met the wood and she heard bones crack. He screamed again.

He lunged at her. She made him chase her. Toward the water, not the light. He was close behind, but wheezing. More than likely no one had ever used a drop toe hold on him before. He didn't see it coming. Though her body roughly impacted the ground, the force sent him over. She heard the splash.

Aidan dragged herself to the edge, daring to look over. It seemed like an eternity that she stared into the black water, but there was nothing. No movement, no sound. Not until she heard hurried footsteps. She got to her feet as fast as she could and tried to find somewhere in the dark to hide, but it was too late.

The grip on her upper arms was firm but not rough.

“What happened?”

The sigh of relief she gave when she looked up to see it was Constable Bennett was practically painful. He didn't wait for her to answer, instead he let her go and moved toward the waterfront to look over the edge. But there was still nothing.

“Are you alright? What happened.”

“It's... It's all a blur. He came at me. We fought and... I shoved him. He went over the edge... ...What do I do?”

For a long while silence hung in the air. The expression on his face was hard to read. There was an internal struggle, but over what? She would never know. When he finally looked back down at her, he had smoothed away his emotions.

“What do you do about what?”

She gave him a quizzical look.

“About...”

“Blake Ross doesn't exist. If the man doesn't exist... nothing happened here.”

Aidan blinked. She wasn't sure what to think, but he reached out and squeezed her arm, starting to guide her back in the direction she had come, toward the light.

“...How long have you been following me?”

“Every day since we first met. I could see it in your eyes, that you weren't lying. No one else believed any of you, which I know you know, but I knew. I wanted to catch the son of a bitch for you. This wasn't what I had in mind.”

“It wasn't what I had in mind either.”

“You're shaking, are you cold?”

“No.”

“Well then, you're probably in shock. Come on. I'll get you some coffee and walk you home.”

“...Thank you.”

When she took a slow, careful breath everything that had been pressing in on her for days finally started to recede. She didn't know what she would tell Belinda and Elsie, if she would tell them anything... No, she should. They needed to know to relax too. ...When they got to the coffee shop, she would send them a text to come and get her. Constable Bennett had done enough, he didn't have to walk her home too.

 

 

- - - - -

New York, January 10th, 2016

Aidan hadn't had the luxury of days to shake off the surprise of having seen Blake Ross' face again. Things were already in motion, and she couldn't let them stop. Oh, he was most certainly part of it. The timing was too much, it couldn't possibly be coincidence. She had stopped believing in coincidence months ago. But for now she had to put the ghost of her past out of her mind.

After spending some time with the translation guide she had picked up, and having another uncomfortable talk with Frankie Mendoza, she had figured out the next step. Things were still stirring in Rochester, a call to Scott had confirmed it. The favor had cost her, of course, but she paid in full.

Sitting in the corner of the small, unfamiliar coffee shop, she waited. The latte in front of her wasn't that good, the teenager behind the bar was new and hadn't gotten the hang of being a barista yet. He was polite though. She watched the two men she was there for without ever looking at them. She pretended to read some poorly written romance novel.

Eventually, they finally got up, leaving their cups on the table as they headed toward the men's room. She pulled on her gloves as she prepared to leave, reaching down into her bag. The thick envelope was withdrawn from the plastic cover she had received it in, and as she slipped out the door she dropped it there on the table for the two men to find when they returned.

Perhaps they would enjoy a bit of reading about Anton Sala and his... business plans.