In his wildest dreams, he was the star. It was him. But then the big man came along. Stole the ball. Dribbled. Dunked it high in the hoop.

It was unreal. That height. That jump. He wished he could sink shots like that.

Maybe some day in the future he'd get the chops to play professional basketball. Maybe his dad wouldn't blow a gasket and shout at him for thinking it.

"Oh no. Not again..." A woman's voice said.

He was still sleeping. He sort of ignored that. Ignored the sound of movement in the room around him, the shifting of sheets, zipping of jeans. Ignored the slam of the door.

In his dream now, he was arguing. Not again. More yelling. Oh boy. Millitary school? Was that really it? His future? Whatever.

Maybe he'd go back to dreaming about good stuff now. Ash dismissed the old man with a wave of a finger and a rude 'good bye'. It was supermodel time for him. In came the big-busted broads. Then he woke up.

"... Dammit." Why did he always have to wake up just when the dreams got good?

Ashton rolled out of bed. He rubbed at his eyes.

This Ashton was different than the usual Ashton one might have encountered in this room. Younger. More disheveled. Groggy. Being 12 did that to a guy. Too young to know the joys of waking up early on next to no sleep. Too young to really understand the power of a nap.

He opened the medicine cabinet and found some aspirin. Found a glass of water. Downed some. Had a headache. Looked at himself in the mirror on shutting the cabinet door. Looked at that mussed brown hair. A strand hung down over his eyes. He needed a haircut. The kid blew the strand up and away with a sigh. What he wouldn't give to be a bit older and with looks. Then every girl within a ten mile radius would be on him like red on a sportscar. Like flies on dung.

'Forget 10 miles,' he stretched his arms. 'Make it 100.' And then he wouldn't have to work so hard to impress the ladies, day-to-day. Not that he had to work, mind you... he was simply that impressive. But still.

Hey. Ashton stared. "This isn't my room..." The hell?! He turned to look over his shoulder. "Moooooooom!"

Nobody came.

Okay. He'd been kidnapped. Man, this was crap. Why did they always kidnap the good-looking kids? Who was his kidnapper? Here was hoping it was a dame with good looks.

Not like he was waiting around for that. The likelihood was low. He'd seen enough cop shows to trust his gut on that. Whoever had kidnapped him would be back soon, and he wouldn't be waiting there for them to bother. He'd be gone.

... just as soon as he found something that fit better than whatever the hell kind of nothing he was wearing. He hadn't even realized he wasn't wearing a shirt.

A few minutes later, the 12-year old walked out the door in a leather jacket that was too big for him, rolled up belted jeans, and a big black shirt with AC DC's symbol on it. He had no idea where he was going, but it seemed best to state 'anywhere but here.'

Strip clubs DID NOT allow minors. Damn. That put that option out of the picture. As were many other fine establishments. Hrm. Where did that leave?

He checked out a hair salon. The women wore too much makeup. Creepy.

He checked out a diner. Whoever's pants he'd stolen had had a wad of cash in that wallet. The old man was going to kill him if he found out. But the old man had never been kidnapped. It had been an emergency.

He ordered a Coke. The lady who set it down on the table for him was a cutie. He grinned at her. She gave him the sweetest smile. Richer than the soda he sipped through his straw. He worked on finishing up that soda while he watched her walk away. Quite the show.

Once Ashton was properly hydrated (after he'd finished drooling over the cute little blonde waitress with the hair bob and whatnot, and drank his Coke), he started thinking about more sensible places and things he ought to go and do.

He'd been kidnapped. Maybe the police would help? That was on the list. He probably needed to let the old man know he was alive and safe. Let the folks stop worrying. He'd have to find a good cop. Maybe even a pretty one. Somewhere along the way, maybe he ought to do something else. What else? Hm. He supposed he needed to have some fun.

New city. New rules.

This definitely didn't look like home.

Ashton stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked past a park playground. He stopped a second to cast some of the kids an 'i'm so much cooler than you because I'm older' smile. When he'd been their age, even he had known swings and slides were lame.

The brunette sighed as he closed his eyes in outstanding wisdom and understanding. "Some people just can't take a hint..."

So yeah…her partner had decided that he was simply going to skip work for a day. That was awesome. They’d gone through all the proper channels and called…then called…then called again before finally giving up and marking him down as AWOL.

It. Figured. Today they’d been planning to do some legwork and interviews. Boring stuff. The kind of stuff that Ashton would hate. Still…there was something strange about him just skipping work. Quin couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with a woman. Not that she cared, but it hadn’t taken a super sleuth to figure out that her partner had a bit of a reputation around the station for his habits with the ladies.

It would serve him right if he’d gotten his wallet stolen and was handcuffed to a headboard somewhere, she decided as she pulled into a parking spot down the street from the pawn shop where the interview was supposed to take place and got out of the car.

The walk was going to be a bit of a pain, but that was New York City for you. A far cry from her Midwestern upbringing, but the horoscope this morning had suggested a day of seemingly unnecessary tasks that were all part of the bigger picture. It was time to go with the flow.

Past a school yard park Quin walked, noting the kids on the play equipment as she passed. They were cute, and so was the older kid lurking by the fence and muttering to himself.

Wait. Lurking by the fence?

Quin checked her watch, and double checked the day of the week.

”Hey kiddo. Shouldn’t you be in school?”

He stopped. He turned.

Shouldn't he be in school?

Oh, Foxy Redhead, Ashton mused. "Shouldn't you be in Heaven?" Or maybe upon the pages of some magazine, somewhere. Maybe something that rhymed with Rustler.

Really?

She’d pointed out that he should probably be in school…and he’d pointed out that she should be in heaven. This was going to be one of those days, wasn’t it?

”Very charming kiddo, but seriously. Where are you supposed to be right now? I don’t remember it being a public holiday.”

The kid was young, but not as young as the others playing in the playground. Quin thought for a moment, and couldn’t come up with any schools for kids his age in the area either. Something was a little strange here, and hopefully he’d stop trying to be slick long enough to help her figure out what it was.

Any day was a holiday when this lady was around.

Where was he supposed to be? Her room.

Okay, that was enough of that.

He smiled at her. "Interested in me?" Ashton asked.

Quin blinked, resisted the urge to slap the kid in the back of the head, then heaved a sigh, grabbing her badge off her belt and holding it out for him to see. If she hadn’t already been having a bad day, been ditched by her partner, and had to do a bunch of leg work on a case she was supposed to have help with, Quin might have been more in the mood for banter with a 12 year old. As it was…

”Not the way you’re hoping. Now I’m going to ask nice again. Where are you supposed to be?”

Besides, hadn’t anyone told him that it was lame to skip school these days?

Oh, hey! A badge. So the babe was an officer. They let ladies be cops? Hm. As he stroked his chin, he suppressed a whole lotta thoughts.

"Just who I was lookin' for," Ashton noted. "Woke up in a strange person's house today. Don't think this is Rhode Island anymore, Toto. Can ye help?"

He reeled back in his line of lines. For the moment, now just didn't seem the time. He could go fishing later.

And of course this had to get weirder. Apparently she was talking to a kidnapping victim who’d been taken across state lines, woken up in his captor’s house, and wandered to this park.

He seemed awful calm….but still, Quin’s demeanor changed. Maybe all of his nonsense was a defense mechanism…kids were weird, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d seen something like this.

”You’re from Rhode Island?” she asked, ”Do you remember how you got here? What’s your name?”

"Ashton," He said. "And nope. Just woke up in a strange bed. Strange town. Really freaky... so I stole some of my kidnappers clothes and ran. Freak changed me into stuff way too big for me." He grimaced. "Was the damnedest thing. God, pervs these days..." Couldn't they just read dirty magazines or something? They had to go around kidnapping kids?

"What's your name, Red?" He turned the conversation back to her. "Think ye can help me?"

Suddenly, Quin wondered if this was one of those things where suddenly she’d wake up from a dream she hadn’t realized she was having. The smirk, the swagger, the way he kept dropping the slick lines.

And the name

God. This was getting creepy.

The boy was still talking about pervs, and asking her for her name. Quin was still staring. If she hadn’t known better…really known better… If she hadn’t been sure that her partner was far too much of a hard-ass to pull a prank like this…

”Ashton huh?” she said. ”Got a last name?”

Something still seemed weird about this whole thing…but the least she could do was give him an answer too.

”And I’m Quin.”

She was acting a lil weird. Like she'd seen a goat. He eyed her warily. "Drake." He said. "Why?"

She gave him a name.

He added carefully. "You're very pretty, Quin. Anyone ever tell ya that? I really hope ye can help..."

So. Maybe Ashton wasn’t too much of a hard-ass to play this kind of prank.

The name had been too much. Maybe if he’d have had the kid leave something to the imagination, the whole ruse would have worked. The attitude was right, the smirk was right, hell, the kid even looked a lot like what Ashton would have looked like as a kid.

He complimented her, and Quin smiled.

”Maybe once or twice.” she said, then crossed her arms.

”But the gig is up kiddo. How much did my partner pay you to do this?”

While Quin couldn’t imagine the real Ashton hiding behind a tree somewhere, waiting to pop out and yell “gotcha” there was no other logical explanation, right?

"Huh?" He knitted his brows and stared at her. "What're you talkin' about? Partner? Listen, lady. I was kidnapped. Nobody is paying me anything."

Reeeeeedheeeeads. Loopy. But hot.

Damn. The kid was good. Sticking to his guns and all that jazz.

Quin had to admit, she was impressed. Ashton had done well choosing the vessel for his little joke.

She looked at him, listened to what he said, and tried to convince herself that she was right. Because…Kidnapping really wasn’t that funny, and it really wasn’t something that you joked about, and the kid seemed dead serious.

A sinking feeling started to pull at the redhead and she dropped her arms to her sides, ”You’ve got to be kidding me….” she breathed.

This was all very quickly starting to be too much, Quin decided, running a hand through her hair. Was it possible that the boy was telling the truth…that he really was Ashton? The coincidence was almost too uncanny to be legitimate. How had she found him, on this random street….

”Who the hell did you take home last night?” she muttered, half to herself.