EggOfThePhoenix:Lost Tales

Timothy Reed

Timothy Reed played "Arthur Havelock, Private Eye", in a television series called Lost & Found. Onscreen, he found lost loves, lost fortunes, and lost pets, all for a sliding scales that meant he never had to turn away a client, and never seemed to get enough to retire. Offscreen, he lost his hopes of Shakespeare and Ibsen, and learned to accept the lot of a typecast actor.

The series was moderately successful, and though it never caught on in syndication, it was a cult favorite at conventions. Tim was invited to many of them, and even went to one or two, but was too bitter to enjoy the experience. Too many nights with the bottle and he lost his wife and son as well.

Eventually, he lost it all. His savings, his house and car, his self respect. He was freezing to death in a box near 15th Street when he was Found.

Now he is Arthur Havelock, his old existence lost. He has found purpose, hope, and even his lost youth. Sure, he has to go out and find what was lost, but it's an oddly satisfying job, and the benefits are... well, admittedly they're strange, but he thinks he is also finding his sense of wonder.

Janice Reed

"You again." The man sat on her stone bench, in her little square of garden. As usual, he looked like he didn't quite belong there.

"I'm afraid so," he replied, with a sad smile. "Necessity is a bitch sometimes."

"Have you ever, just once, considered knocking?" she asked, exasperated. Even this lacked heat, though. It was ground they'd been over too many times.

"Never mind," she conceded. "Not in your nature, blah, blah, blah. What is it you need this time? International finance? Biogenetic engineering? The airspeed of an unladen swallow?" Despite herself, she was a little curious.

"Something simple, this time," he admitted, not rising to her bait. "Who built the Mars Rover? The one that's kept on going?"

"Yeah, simple," she retorted, almost by reflex, as she started thinking about it. "You know, even imaginary fictional characters can learn to use the internet. Have you considered joining the 21st century yet?"

As usual, he ignored the question, and the questions behind it. Instead, he reached out and plucked a sprig of rosemay from a juniper bush.

"Here," he offered. "A little something to remember me by."

"You're daft and imaginary," she muttered, turning back to her door. She took the rosemary with her, though.