Reality Or Nightmare

by dawn341

First season story. Duncan must decide who is telling the truth - Richie or an old friend.

Reality or Nightmare by Dawn Cunningham

Disclaimers:

Duncan, Richie, and Tessa belong to Rysher. I'm just borrowing them and not getting paid for it.

Do not post or publish this story anywhere else, without my express permission. Feel free to share it with others as long as the disclaimers remain intact.

Warnings:

This story deals with sexual abuse of children. Some people may find it disturbing although I tried to keep details to a minimum.

Acknowledgments:

This story was based on a challenge posted on the Seventh Dimension Archive by Leslie Dawson on 3/4/98. It isn't quite what was asked for. The challenge started the creative process, but sometimes Richie has a mind of his own. It will be listed at the end of the story.

This is very early first season-just before Family Tree.

* HL * HL * HL * HL

Reality Or Nightmare by Dawn Cunningham

Duncan MacLeod looked around the crowded Seacouver airport terminal when he felt the touch of another Immortal. He had just arrived there himself, after a buying trip in New York. Right now he was defenseless-his sword was somewhere in the baggage compartment of the plane he had just exited.

"Duncan? Duncan MacLeod, is that you?"

The Scot turned toward the masculine voice, and began to grin as he recognized the man. It had been at least twenty years since he'd last seen the blond-haired, blue-eyed Immortal, but he hadn't changed much-not that Immortals ever changed that much. He was slightly bigger than Duncan, with broad shoulders and strong arms that could easily wield a sword. They'd become good friends during the civil war while they both tried to help slaves to freedom on the underground railroad. Since then, they'd met whenever they could.

"Johan Nilsson! It's been a long time. What are you doing in these parts?" he asked as they exchanged firm handshakes.

"I'm just here to clean up some loose ends. I own some property around here, and I've decided to sell it. The only thing is, I've been told it needs a little bit of work before I can put it on the market. I guess I didn't pick a very good person to manage the place for me. So, what about you?"

"I live here now," Duncan said. "I have an antique store in the Heights-been here about seven years. Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow? I'd like you to meet Tessa and Richie."

"Oh? Sounds like you have a little family," Nilsson teased.

"Not exactly. Tessa and I have been together for twelve years, but Richie's a newcomer. He's only been living with us for a few months. I felt it best to take him in and try to keep him out of trouble." Duncan looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear their conversation. "He's going to be one of us someday, and was headed for an early death. I couldn't let him stay on that path."

"Still the same old Duncan-always trying to be a do-gooder."

"I seem to recall you being the same way," Duncan replied, as he slapped his friend on the back. "So how about dinner?"

"Sounds great. Where and when?"

Duncan gave him one of his business cards. "How's seven sound?"

"Works for me. I'll see you then. Now, I'd better go retrieve my bag before someone else takes it."

"Same here. See you tomorrow night," Duncan said as he headed for the baggage carousel. His luggage was already circling around on it, and he picked it up. He felt much better with his sword back in his possession, even though he didn't need it now.

* HL * HL

"So, Mac, who's this guy again?" Richie Ryan asked the next night as he set the dining room table.

Duncan looked up from the salad he was making. "His name is Johan Nilsson. He's an old friend from the Civil War days."

"How old is he?"

Duncan thought about it for a moment. "I think he's around 1000 now, give or take a decade."

Richie was impressed, though he tried not to show it. Until now, Duncan was the oldest person he knew-except for Sir Lancelot, and he didn't really know him. This new guy was over twice as old as the Scot. He wondered if they would do any sparring while the man was in town, but didn't have the nerve to come out and ask.

The young man stepped back and looked the table over, wondering if he'd missed anything. A few months ago, he would have been more interested in how much he could get if he ripped off the china and silver. Now, he was more concerned with proving he could learn new things. He had a new life here, and he wanted it to continue.

Something was wrong with the table setting, but Richie couldn't figure it out. Finally, he sighed and asked, "Mac, what am I missing?"

Duncan moved over to stand beside Richie while he looked over the table. "You've got the wine glasses on the wrong side, but other than that, it looks fine."

Richie moved the glasses around as instructed. He didn't know why it mattered, just that it did. Duncan probably didn't care, but Tessa sure would. She had some strange ideas about how things should be done, such as wrapping silverware up in napkins-even for breakfast. It just seemed like a lot of extra work to the teenager.

Maybe he should have insisted on taking off tonight. Richie wasn't looking forward to this dinner, afraid that Duncan's friend would find his manners to be lacking. It wasn't so bad when it was just Duncan and Tessa around-they didn't seem to mind when he screwed up. But the Scot had insisted that Richie be here to meet his friend, so it looked like he was stuck.

The final indignity was his attire. While Tessa expected him to be clean and neatly dressed at dinnertime, tonight she had insisted on a suit coat and a tie. Even now, he felt like he had a noose around his neck and ran a finger along the collar. At least Duncan had allowed him to wear black jeans instead of dress pants.

Tessa breezed into the kitchen, wearing a cream-colored dress. She opened the oven and peered inside before moving over to the counter and peering around Duncan to see what he was doing.

"Everything's coming along fine," Duncan informed her. "There's nothing to worry about."

"I am not worried. I just want to make a good impression on your friend, that's all."

"So, what are we having for dinner?" Richie asked with a little bit of trepidation. During the last few months, he'd eaten things he'd never even heard of. Some nights, he'd been hard pressed to finish what was on his plate.

"Grilled salmon, Caesar salad, rice pilaf, and a vegetable medley," Duncan replied. "Does that meet with your approval?"

"Sure. No problem." It wasn't one of his favorite meals, but at least he would recognize what was on his plate.

There was a knock at the back door, and Duncan went to answer it, placing the salad in the refrigerator as he went. He returned a moment later with another man and introduced his friend to Tessa and Richie.

Nilsson was charm personified. He kissed Tessa's hand before presenting her with a bouquet of flowers. He'd already given Duncan a bottle of wine that he'd brought along. When introduced to Richie, he shook the teenager's hand firmly before handing him a small wrapped package.

Richie looked at Duncan for permission, unsure if he should open it right away or not. The Scot gave him a brief nod, and the teenager ripped the paper off to reveal a CD for the group U2.

"Do you like them?" Nilsson asked. "The clerk said they were the hottest thing around."

"Oh yeah," Richie answered, wishing he could go listen to the music right away. "Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome." He turned to Duncan. "So how do I get a drink in this place?" he asked with a wide smile.

Duncan moved to the nearby liquor cart. "What's your poison?" he asked.

"Pour me a glass of that Scotch you keep bragging about."

Duncan complied, pouring one for himself, as well. "Tessa, can I get you anything?"

"No, I'll just have wine with dinner."

The Scot selected a bottle and pulled the cork to give the wine time to breathe. He gave his friend a tour of the apartment and the store, returning just in time for dinner.

Richie helped Tessa bring the plates to the table while Duncan poured the wine. He knew he would get a glass to drink, too-he always did when they had wine with their meal.

It had really surprised him the first time it had happened. After all, one of the conditions that the Scot had laid out when he moved in was no drinking. Tessa had been the one to explain that a glass of wine with dinner was quite acceptable. She'd started having wine before she turned ten, and could see no reason why Richie shouldn't now. She had been quick to point out that it only applied at the dinner table in their home-nowhere else.

Richie stayed quiet throughout most of the meal, even though the others tried to involve him in the conversation. He just didn't feel comfortable talking about politics and the economy. But he did pay close attention when Nilsson started to recount some of his encounters with Duncan.

"You should see this man jitterbug," Nilsson said as he pointed to Duncan. "He can really cut a rug-as we used to say."

"Oh, really?" Tessa asked, throwing an amused look at Duncan. "I might just have to find a way to get him to do that."

"I'd like to see that, too," Richie said, although he wasn't quite sure what a jitterbug was.

"I think we need to change the subject," Duncan said. "Why don't you tell Richie about some of your exploits as a Viking?"

"You were a Viking?" Richie asked. "Like in raping and pillaging and all that kind of stuff?"

Nilsson laughed. "Not all of us were like that, Richie. Some of us were traders or explorers, but I did my share of raiding. There was this one time..." He launched into a story about his early days.

As dinner progressed, Richie found himself staring at Nilsson more and more. There was something familiar about the man, but he just couldn't figure out what it was. He finally decided it was his imagination.

After dinner, the teenager volunteered to do the cleanup. It gave him a good reason to take off the suit coat and tie. He even rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. For the first time that evening, he felt like himself. Afterwards, he went to his room to listen to his new CD.

* HL * HL

Richie woke with a scream, bolting upright in his bed, frantically searching the room for the intruder. He was still shaking badly when Duncan burst into the room.

"Richie, what's wrong?" he asked as he looked around. He slowly lowered the sword he was carrying when nothing appeared out of place.

"It was your friend," Richie stammered out. "Johan-he was hurting me! I couldn't stop him."

Duncan moved over to the bed. "Take it easy, Richie. It was just a nightmare. No one was hurting you-especially not Johan."

"No! You don't understand! It was him!" Richie tried to curl up into a ball, feeling the need to make himself as small as possible.

Duncan reached out to Richie, but the teenager pulled back. "It was just a nightmare, that's all."

The young man just shook his head. He'd had this nightmare many times before-usually when he felt insecure or unloved. Until now, he could never put a face on the monster who came to him late at night. Now he could. He had no doubt that it was Duncan's friend.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Duncan suggested. "Maybe that would help you calm down."

"I... I can't!" Richie replied. Talking about it was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'll be fine, Mac. You can go back to bed." With great effort, the teenager stretched out in bed, trying to appear normal.

Duncan appeared reluctant to go, but eventually he gave in. "Okay, Rich. We can talk about this in the morning," he said before leaving the room.

The Immortal returned to his bed and a very anxious Tessa.

"What happened?" she asked as he came through the door.

"Richie had a nightmare. It really shook him up pretty badly. For some reason, it was about Johan. Right now, he's confusing his nightmare with reality."

"Do you think I should go talk to him?"

"No, not tonight. I'm sure by morning he'll realize what he's done." Duncan gave Tessa a quick kiss. "Let's try to get some more sleep."

* HL * HL

It took a long time for Richie to calm down after Duncan left the room. Every time he closed his eyes, his heart started to pound again and he struggled to breathe. He finally turned the light on, which seemed to help. The nightmare started to fade, making it difficult to remember any details about it. All he knew was that whenever he thought about it, he felt an urge to hide.

He didn't remember when the nightmares had started-he'd had them for so many years, now. Other than interrupting his sleep, they hadn't caused this overwhelming panic before. And why was he so certain that Duncan's friend was the cause of it? He didn't remember ever meeting the man before.

Could Duncan be right? Was it just a coincidence that he'd placed the man in his nightmare? Or was he somehow involved? And what did he do now? He couldn't prove anything-he couldn't even be certain himself. If he made an issue of this, he might just alienate Duncan. That would probably put him back out on the streets again.

Richie decided to let it go for now. Nilsson hadn't seemed like a threat last night. Maybe there wasn't anything to worry about at all.

* HL * HL

"Good morning, Richie," Tessa greeted him the next morning. She was sitting at the dining room table drinking a cup of coffee.

"Morning," Richie mumbled before yawning. He grabbed a glass from the table, went to the refrigerator, and filled it with orange juice.

"Duncan told me you had a bad dream last night. Do you want to talk about it?"

Richie shook his head. "I don't really remember what it was about. Just a feeling of terror, that's all."

"How awful," Tessa said. "I have had dreams like that, too. They are not very nice."

"No, they're not," Richie agreed as he sat down. He reached over and grabbed a muffin from the basket in the middle of the table. "So what's the plan for today?"

"Duncan will run the shop today, and you can help him. I have several clients I must go visit." Tessa glanced at her watch. "Oh, and if you have a chance, please sweep my workshop."

"Sure thing, Tessa. I'll get right on it before the shop gets too busy," Richie replied.

"Thank you, Richie. I knew I could count on you." She stood up. "Oh, and maybe you should think about getting a haircut. I can recommend a good stylist."

Richie ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Tessa. Maybe I'll let it grow as long as Mac's."

Tessa shrugged. "It's your hair, but I think you would look better with it cut shorter. It would curl more that way, and ladies are really attracted to men with curly hair."

"Really?" Richie lightly twisted a lock of hair around his finger. "Ladies like curly hair, huh?" He'd never heard that before.

"Absolutely," Tessa said with a slight smile.

"Maybe I *will* get it cut. Thanks, Tessa."

The Frenchwoman left the room, and Richie reached for another muffin. Maybe he'd take some time off and go to one of those places at the mall. He'd often seen guys in those places. He carried his plate to the sink, rinsed it off and placed it in the dishwasher. He returned to the table and finished clearing it off before heading for the workshop.

Duncan looked up from the desk in his office and saw Richie sweeping Tessa's workshop. He stood up and went out to join him.

"How are you doing?" the Scot asked.

Richie stopped sweeping and looked at the Highlander. "I'm fine. I'm sorry I woke you up last night, Mac."

"It wasn't a problem. Do you still think Johan hurt you somehow?"

Richie started sweeping again, almost frantically. "Of course not, Mac. It was just a stupid nightmare."

Duncan reached out and grabbed the teenager's arm to halt his sweeping. "You don't sound convinced. Help me out here, Richie. How did Johan hurt you? When did he do this?"

"Like you said, Mac, it was just a nightmare. I'm sorry I accused your friend of anything." Richie kept his eyes on the broom handle.

Duncan finally let go of the teenager's arm. "When you're ready to talk, let me know," he said, before going back to the office.

The Scot kept an eye on Richie all morning. The teenager seemed to go out of his way to avoid talking to him. He really didn't know how to handle this situation. For that matter, he really didn't know much about Richie, either.

He did know about some of the young man's extracurricular activities-such as breaking and entering. But what if the teenager had deeper problems? What if he wasn't mentally stable? Richie had only lived there a few months. What if this was the first indication of trouble?

Duncan shook his head as he tried to talk himself out of that idea. Surely it would have shown up earlier. Richie had been brash and a bit mouthy when he first moved in, but that was all. He had quickly proved that he could be a hard worker and, despite any of his claims to the contrary, very intelligent. He had a quick wit, and a ready smile, and could charm a bird out of a tree if he wanted to.

His first assessment had to be right. It had just been a bad nightmare and, for some reason known only to Richie's subconscious, Nilsson had been picked to be the monster of the night. Sooner or later, the youth would realize that he wasn't a bad guy.

* HL * HL

Nilsson showed up at lunchtime, carrying sacks filled with deli sandwiches and chips. "Hey, Duncan, I come bearing gifts."

Duncan grinned at his friend. "Uh-oh. What do you need now?"

Nilsson clasped a hand to his chest. "I'm mortally wounded! How dare you impugn my reputation?"

"You'll live, and I dare because I know you."

"Oh, all right. I'll explain while we're eating. C'mon, Richie, there's plenty here for you, too."

"Go ahead without me," Richie replied as he studiously rearranged the glassware displayed on the counter in front of him. "I'll watch the shop while you eat, Mac. I can eat later."

Duncan frowned for a moment, but decided not to push the issue. He led the way back to the kitchen. While the Scot pulled three plates from the cupboard, setting aside one for Richie to use later, his friend retrieved two beers from the refrigerator. A few moments later, they were sitting at the table, ready to eat.

"So, what kind of favor do you need?" Duncan asked.

"I'd like you to come over and take a look at my house. I'd like a second opinion on what needs to be done. I know how much you like messing around with that kind of thing."

"I'd be glad to help," Duncan replied. "I can come over later this afternoon, if you like. I'd prefer to wait until Tessa is back. We don't like to leave Richie alone while the shop is open."

"Oh? Are you afraid he'll steal something?"

Duncan shook his head. "Not at all. He's more than capable of handling the shop alone, but he's still learning. If one of us is here, we can help if he can't answer a question."

"You sound like you've grown very fond of him."

The comment startled Duncan. He hadn't really thought about that before. "I guess I have," he finally admitted.

"You shouldn't grow too attached to him," Nilsson warned. "Young ones never seem to last very long in the Game. You're just setting yourself up for a fall."

Duncan shrugged. "Hopefully, there will be a few years before I have to worry about that. I want to keep him mortal as long as possible."

"That would be for the best," Nilsson agreed.

"So, why do you have property in Seacouver?" Duncan asked, trying to keep his tone casual. "Did you live here?"

"For a brief time," Nilsson said. "I met a girl from here while I was on a business trip. We fell in love, and eventually got married. She didn't want to move away from here, so we bought a house."

"I didn't know you got married," Duncan said. "Are you still with her?"

Nilsson shook his head slowly. "She died shortly after we got married. We didn't have much time together. I couldn't bear the thought of staying around here after that."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago." Nilsson brushed a hand over his eyes.

"But we never seem to forget, do we?" Duncan asked, remembering his own losses. Silence filled the room as both Immortals coped with their memories.

Finally, Nilsson looked up. "Why all the questions?" he asked.

"Just wondering if you could have run into Richie before," Duncan explained. "He seems to think you have, but he can't remember when or where." It was stretching the truth a little, but the Scot hoped Nilsson would fill in the blanks.

Nilsson shook his head. "I don't think so. I'm sure I'd remember if I'd met him. He does have a unique quality to him."

Duncan nodded, knowing his friend was referring to the gentle buzz that warned of Richie's pending Immortality. "Oh, well, he must have you confused with someone else," he said. Even as he said it, Duncan wondered if that might explain it. Maybe Nilsson resembled someone Richie once knew-someone who had hurt the youth. The mind could play strange tricks on a person.

* HL * HL

Later that afternoon, Duncan drove slowly down the street, searching for the address that Nilsson had given him. Finally spotting it, he pulled into the driveway and checked out the house and the surrounding neighborhood.

While not the most affluent area of town, the nearby houses showed the signs of loving care. Even the one in front of him looked like it had been well maintained. That didn't match with what his friend had told him about the house, and Duncan checked the address again.

The Scot climbed out of the car and climbed the three steps up to the front door of the two-story house. As he reached the doorbell, he felt the touch of another Immortal, and knew he'd found the right place.

Nilsson opened the door a moment later. "Duncan, come on in." He stood back and waved the Highlander inside.

Duncan entered the house, looking around curiously. The door opened directly into a large living room; its high ceilings added to the feeling of airiness. French doors at one end led to a sun porch and, through an archway across the room, he could see what must be a dining room. An open staircase to his right led to the second floor.

It would have been a nice home, except for the gaping holes in the walls that looked as if someone had put a fist through them. Deep gouges marred the wood floor, and scratches covered the woodwork.

"Not very nice, is it?" Nilsson asked. "My last tenants really did a job on the place."

Duncan shrugged. "Most of it is fixable. What else is wrong?"

Nilsson took him through the rest of the house. Four bedrooms upstairs along with a bath showed the same signs of neglect. The family room had smoke damage above the fireplace. The kitchen ceiling had water damage-apparently from the bathroom. The basement was unfinished and exposed wires dangled overhead. Duncan inspected the fuse box carefully.

"You'll need to rewire the whole house," he suggested. "Redo the plumbing. A new furnace and water heater. Patch up the holes, panel the family room, put down carpet, and the house is ready to sell."

"Oh, is that all?" Nilsson joked. "And here I thought it would take a lot of work."

"You wanted my opinion. Unless you stay and do all the work yourself, it's going to cost you a lot of money to fix it up."

"I wasn't planning on staying here that long. Maybe I should just take a match to it."

"I have another suggestion," Duncan said as they climbed back up to the main level. "Why don't you donate the house? There's an organization here that is always looking for houses that can be used in their vocational learning programs. Once the students get the place fixed up, they sell the house to a needy family for a fraction of what it's worth. You get the tax write-off, the kids have a place to learn their trade, and a family gets a home they can afford."

"That's a great idea, Duncan."

"I thought you would like it. You've always wanted to help out other people."

"You know me too well. What gave me away?"

"I don't know," Duncan said. "Maybe it was your work with the underground railroad. Or the homes for war orphans you set up and ran. Not to mention the halfway homes for troubled youths."

"I guess I'm too predictable," Nilsson said with a laugh. "I'll have to work at that."

* HL * HL

Richie closed up the shop with a sigh of relief. Duncan still wasn't back yet from visiting his friend, and the teenager had no intention of being there in case the Scot brought Nilsson home with him. After he finished locking up, he sped through the apartment and fetched his jacket from his bedroom. He found Tessa in her workshop.

"Everything's all locked up and taken care of, Tessa," he said. "I'm going out and I don't know when I'll be home."

"Don't be too late," Tessa admonished. "Remember the shop will have to open tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, I know," Richie said before heading outside. While he didn't exactly have a curfew, Duncan and Tessa had made it clear that he was expected home at a reasonable time. He jumped on his bike and went zooming out of the alley. He really didn't have any destination in mind, he just wanted to get away for a while.

The bike had been a gift from the couple for his eighteenth birthday. It was a second-hand bike, but Richie hadn't minded. He hadn't expected anything at all for his birthday since he'd only been living with the couple for a few weeks at the time.

He rode around aimlessly for a while before deciding to see a movie. Nothing like a blood-and-guts shoot-em-up type movie to take his mind off his problems. He stopped at a fast-food place for dinner, then headed for the theater.

Two hours later, Richie emerged from the theater with a couple friends he'd run into, and they all headed for a local pizza place. Hanging out with his friends put the teenager in a better mood than he'd been in all day. The casual joking and playfulness made him forget his problems.

When he returned home, he found Tessa waiting up for him.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, as she set aside the magazine she was reading.

"Yeah, I did," Richie replied with a smile.

"That's nice. Hopefully, there will be no nightmares tonight."

"I hope not. Night, Tessa."

"Good night, Richie."

The teenager headed for his room and quickly got ready for bed. It didn't take him long to fall asleep.

Tessa finished reading the magazine article she had started before Richie had come home, then headed to bed herself. Duncan was already there, waiting for her.

"See, I told you there wasn't any reason to wait up for Richie," he said with a grin. "He came home at a reasonable time."

"I was *not* waiting up for him," Tessa said as she climbed into bed. "I just wanted to finish reading my magazine."

"Of course. You weren't in the least bit worried."

"Definitely not."

"Of course not." Duncan leaned over and kissed her. "Whatever you say, Tessa."

"And why are you still awake? Hmmm? Maybe you were waiting for Richie to come home, too."

"Who me?" Duncan put on an innocent face. "I was waiting for you to come to bed."

"Of course," Tessa replied with a knowing smile. "Whatever you say, Duncan." She leaned over and returned his kiss.

* HL * HL

The next morning, Richie struggled out of bed when his alarm went off, barely able to pry his eyes open. All through the night, his sleep had been plagued by nightmares. Each time he woke up in a sweat, heart pounding, and fear coursing through him. This time, the nightmares had been vague, quickly fading when he woke up. They had just left an impending sense of doom.

With a groan, he stumbled into the bathroom, hoping a hot shower would wake him up. Forty minutes later, he emerged from his room, ready, if not willing, to face the day. He gulped down two cups of coffee with his breakfast in an attempt to finish the process of waking up.

Fortunately for him, the shop remained quiet all day. Very few customers came in and Richie wasn't required to use many of his brain cells trying to remember all the little details that a sale seemed to involve. He gave a loud sigh of relief when it came time to put up the closed sign for the day.

Richie headed for his room, trying to decide if he wanted to go hang out with his friends that night. As he crossed Tessa's workshop, someone knocked at the back door, so he went to answer it.

Nilsson breezed through the door the minute the young man opened it. "Hi, Richie. Have I got a treat for you."

"Oh?" Richie looked at the Immortal with some suspicion.

"Yep. Where's Duncan?"

Richie pointed to the door leading to the apartment. "He's inside."

"Great. Let's go find him." Nilsson threw an arm around the teenager's shoulders.

A flash of panic filled Richie. "Don't touch me!" he practically screamed, twisting out from underneath the Immortal's arm.

"What's going on here?" Duncan asked from the doorway.

"I don't know, Duncan," Nilsson replied. "I just stopped by to invite you and Richie to the basketball game tonight. I just happen to have some tickets for courtside seats." He pulled the items from his pocket and waved them in the air.

"Richie?" Duncan turned a questioning glance toward Richie.

The teenager didn't know how to explain what had just happened. Telling Duncan that the other Immortal had set off a panic attack by just touching him didn't sound like a good idea. "I don't know," he mumbled, looking down at the concrete floor.

Richie could almost feel Duncan's eyes drilling into him, but he refused to look up. The Scot finally broke the awkward silence that seemed to fill the room.

"Thanks, Johan. We'd love to go with you to the game. Right, Richie?"

The thought of spending the evening with Nilsson set Richie's stomach churning. "I... I have other plans."

"I'm sure you can break them," Duncan said as he slowly came down the steps into the workshop. "After all, basketball is your favorite sport."

Richie shook his head. "I don't want to go," he insisted.

"Come on, Richie, you'll like it," Nilsson coaxed. "I promise."

Dim memories of those words being whispered into his ear a long time ago, sent another wave of panic through Richie. "Leave me alone! I'm not going!" he yelled, before making a mad dash for his room.

Duncan started to follow Richie, but Nilsson grabbed his arm. "If I were you, I'd let it drop. I've seen this kind of behavior before, Duncan."

"What do you mean?" Duncan turned a perplexed gaze on his friend.

"Remember I told you about the home for troubled youths that I ran?" Nilsson paused, then continued when Duncan nodded. "Richie is starting to show the first signs of being mentally unbalanced. Has he been having nightmares?"

"Yes, he has," Duncan reluctantly admitted.

Nilsson nodded knowingly. "Yes, it fits the pattern. Nightmares, wild mood swings-Richie needs professional help. Or... no, never mind."

"What?"

Nilsson pulled Duncan toward the back door, and waited until they were outside before continuing. "If I were you, I'd take his head now. He's never going to be able to handle the pressures of being immortal. You won't be able to trust him once he finds out what he is. When you least suspect it, Richie will take your head. It's best to end it now."

"I can't do that," Duncan protested. "He's my friend. Maybe you're wrong. Maybe he's just having a bad day-not getting enough sleep. There's not enough evidence to prove anything yet!"

Nilsson shrugged, a look of concern on his face. "Well, it's your head. It's just that I've seen too many of these types of cases. Usually the kid will just get progressively worse, until he's totally out of control. At that point, he becomes a menace to himself as well as society." He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Of course, if you don't think you can take Richie's head, well, I guess I could help you out. After all, I barely know him."

"NO! It's too early for that. I have a friend-he's a psychiatrist. Maybe he can help Richie."

"Well, it's worth a shot," Nilsson said. "Now then, shall we go watch some basketball?"

"I don't think I should leave Richie..."

"He'll be fine for now. Maybe once he's had a chance to calm down, you can have a talk with him."

"No, I don't think so. I wouldn't enjoy myself if I was worrying about Richie. I'm sorry, Johan. Maybe some other time."

"That's all right, Duncan," Nilsson said, clearly disappointed. "And if you should change your mind about Richie... let me know."

"Like I said before, I'm not ready to give in yet."

With a wave of his hand, Nilsson headed for his car. Duncan watched it disappear around the corner before going back inside. He stood in the living room, staring at Richie's closed bedroom door for the longest time, debating whether he should try talking to the teenager. The decision was taken out of his hands when the door opened and Richie came out carrying a duffel bag.

"Going somewhere?" Duncan asked.

Richie sent a defiant look toward the Immortal. "I figured I should leave before you kick me out," he said.

"Why would I kick you out?"

"Because of the way I treated your friend," Richie explained.

Duncan sighed. "While I didn't like what happened, I'm not going to kick you out because of that. So why don't you go put your stuff back away?"

"You sure?" Richie asked suspiciously.

Tessa came down the hallway, wearing a robe and towel-drying her wet hair. "What is happening? I was taking a shower and thought I heard yelling. Richie, why are you carrying that bag?"

"It was just a misunderstanding," Duncan said. "Richie's taking it back to his room now. Right?"

"Yeah, that's right," Richie said, before returning to his room.

"Duncan? Is something wrong?" Tessa asked.

"I don't know," Duncan said. "I just don't know."

* HL * HL

Later that night, Duncan and Tessa's sleep was interrupted by a loud scream, followed by a crash. They both erupted from their bed and hurried to Richie's room. The teenager was huddled on the floor in a corner of his bedroom, half-hidden by the bed. The bedside lamp lay on the floor nearby.

"Richie, what's wrong?" Duncan asked as he moved closer to the youth.

The teenager tried to curl up even tighter. "Nooooo!" he moaned.

"Duncan, you're scaring him!" Tessa cried out.

The Scot backed up, and Richie seemed to relax a little. The teenager didn't seem to recognize them, and the couple exchanged concerned looks.

Tessa slowly moved closer. "Richie, it's Tessa. I am not going to hurt you," she quietly said.

"He'll hurt me!"

Tessa glanced over her shoulder at Duncan for a moment. "He won't hurt you. I won't let him."

Richie nodded his head, slowly. "That's right. You stopped him."

The young man stared into Tessa's face, but she had a feeling he was seeing someone else. She slowly reached out a hand and took one of his. "Why don't you climb back in bed?" she suggested.

Richie fiercely shook his head. "He hurts me when I'm in bed."

"Who hurts you?" She had to fight to keep her voice steady, and her tears from falling. She hoped she was wrong, but the horrible sense of dread filling her warned her that she wasn't.

"I'm not supposed to tell!" The voice didn't seem to belong to Richie. Instead, it resembled a young child's.

"You can tell me. You won't get into trouble. I promise I'll keep you safe," Tessa coaxed.

"Make him go away!"

"I'll be right outside, Tessa," Duncan said quietly.

"He's all gone now," Tessa said as she heard the bedroom door shut. It's safe to come back to bed." She tugged lightly on the youth's hand.

Slowly, Richie stood and followed her back to his bed. She pulled back the covers and he slid underneath them. "Don't leave me," he said as she tucked the covers around him.

"I won't leave you," she assured him, moving around the bed to climb in on the opposite side. She lightly stroked his hair back from his forehead. "Go back to sleep, now."

Richie's eyes fluttered shut, and soon his breathing settled into a regular rhythm. Only then did Tessa join Duncan in the hallway.

The Scot wrapped his arms around the trembling Tessa and held her close. He didn't want to face the possibility that Richie had been abused as a child, so how could he comfort her? This wasn't the first time he'd encountered this kind of thing in his four-hundred years, but somehow it seemed more horrific when he actually knew the victim.

"Oh, Duncan," Tessa finally murmured, "how could someone hurt a child that way?"

"Now, Tessa, we don't really know what exactly happened," Duncan said, trying to smooth it over. "Maybe it's just a nightmare he has."

The Frenchwoman pulled away slightly so she could look Duncan directly in the eyes. "Do you really believe that? Do you really think that was just something Richie imagined?"

Duncan knew Tessa would be able to tell if he lied. "No, not really."

"I didn't think so. What do we do now, Duncan?"

"We be here for him. Get him the help he needs to overcome this. That's all we can do-he needs to do the rest himself."

"Will it be enough?" Tessa asked. "Oh, this just doesn't seem possible. Richie's always been so upbeat and cheerful. How can he be that way with this in his background?"

"I don't know, Tessa. I'm going to go call a friend of mine. Sean is a psychiatrist, and maybe he can give us some suggestions on what to do next. Why don't you stay here in case Richie wakes again?"

Tessa nodded before going back into the teenager's room. Duncan headed for his office, and the telephone there. It took a little time to track down his friend, but once they connected, they chatted for almost ninety minutes. By the time he hung up, the Immortal felt a new sense of hope that Richie could be helped.

Duncan went in search of Tessa and found her sitting on Richie's bed, watching the teenager sleep while silent tears rolled down her face. For several long minutes he just observed the two of them, then went to her side. He pulled Tessa to her feet and hugged her before leading her from the room.

Knowing that neither of them would be able to sleep any more that night, Duncan headed for the dining room. He gently pushed Tessa into a chair, fetching an afghan from the living room to drape around her. He busied himself in the kitchen making coffee, giving the Frenchwoman a chance to compose herself.

Once the coffee was done, he poured two cups and carried them over to the table. Tessa looked up at him as she accepted her cup.

"How could anyone hurt a child? What kind of animal was he to hurt Richie like that?"

"It's a sickness, Tessa," he replied as he sat down. "There's not a lot we can do about whoever did this, but maybe we can help Richie."

"How?"

"Sean thinks we need to get Richie to talk about what happened. He said it's quite possible that Richie has repressed all memory of what had happened and we need to make him face the truth."

"Wouldn't he be better off not remembering? It's not something *I* would like to remember."

Duncan shook his head. "I thought the same thing, but Sean thinks his nightmares will just keep getting worse until Richie faces his past."

"So how do we do it?" Tessa asked. "Do we send him to a psychiatrist?"

"We may have to, but first we should just try talking to him. Get Richie to open up about what happened. Once he acknowledges that he's been abused, he can be helped, but he's got to make that first step." Duncan stared down into his coffee cup, unhappy over what he had to say next. "Sean thinks it would be best if *you* talked to Richie-that he may be more willing to talk to a woman instead of a man."

"I don't know if I can," Tessa replied, worry obvious in her tone. "What if I say the wrong thing?"

Duncan reached out to her, taking her hand in his. "Tessa, you have a warm, loving heart. I don't think you *could* say the wrong thing."

Tessa managed a tremulous smile. "I will do my best, Duncan. I just wish we could both be there."

"So do I. The best I can offer is to be close by in case you run into trouble," Duncan said, lightly squeezing her hand.

Tessa nodded. "Is there any way we can find out who did this to him? Somehow get hold of his records? I want to see that man punished!"

"I don't know, Tessa. They keep these records very confidential. I suppose if we went to the police, they might be able to get access, but first Richie would have to convince them that he was abused. I don't think he's ready for that, yet."

"Call a lawyer tomorrow," Tessa suggested. "Maybe there's some way to get access to Richie's records now that he's eighteen."

"I'll give it a try," Duncan said. "Just don't get your hopes up." He glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost five o'clock. "I'm going to go take a shower, then I'll run out and get some croissants for breakfast," he suggested.

* HL * HL

Three hours later, Duncan was in the office trying to concentrate on bookwork, and Tessa was in her workshop, attempting to work on a drawing. Three times so far that morning she'd torn up the sketch she was working on, unhappy with the results.

"Morning, Tessa."

The Frenchwoman spun around to see Richie standing in the doorway leading to the apartment. "Good morning, Richie," she greeted him. "There are croissants for breakfast, or, if you'd like, I could make you something. Pancakes? An omelet? Whatever you'd like."

Richie gave her a puzzled look. "Thanks, Tessa, but the croissants will be okay." He turned and went back into the apartment.

Tessa set down her drawing pencil, aware that her hands were shaking. She still had mixed emotions about trying to talk to Richie. A part of her thought it would be best to leave his trauma in the past, but the other part of her didn't want a repeat of their early morning event. She took a deep breath and headed for the office.

"Richie's awake," she told Duncan, hating the quaver in her voice.

The Scot immediately stood up and hugged her. "Are you going to talk to him now?"

"Once he's done eating. What will you do?"

"I'll wait right here, Tessa. If you need me-for whatever reason-all you'll have to do is call."

Tessa nodded. "Wish me luck," she whispered.

"Bon chance," Duncan whispered back, holding her tightly for a moment, then letting go.

With another deep breath, Tessa headed for the apartment. Richie was still at the dining room table, munching on a jelly-covered croissant, face buried in the Sunday comics section of the newspaper. She went over to the sink, grabbed the dishrag and proceeded to clean the already-spotless countertops.

It seemed to take an eternity before Richie finally folded up the paper and stood up. Without saying a word, she helped him clean off the table and put things away. She didn't know how to start their conversation.

"Is something wrong?" Richie finally asked.

Recognizing an opening, Tessa looked straight at the teenager. "We have to talk, Richie."

The young man turned slightly pale. "Did I do something wrong? Is this about how I treated Mac's friend? I didn't mean to be rude, Tessa. It's just that he seems to give me the creeps. I'll try to do better-I promise. I'll even go places with him if that's what it takes. I'm sorry! I really am!"

Tessa almost had to smile at his rapid-fire response. "No, Richie, you haven't done anything wrong, and this isn't about what happened with Duncan's friend. Let's go sit down in the living room."

"Oh, man, I'm in big trouble-aren't I?" Richie moaned as he followed Tessa. "Do you want me to move out? Is that what this is? Because I can be out of here in no time at all. No problem, whatsoever."

"Richie, stop it!" Tessa ordered, grabbing his hands as they seemed to fly around as fast as his words. "You. Are. Not. In. Trouble," she slowly said, emphasizing each word. "Now, sit down." She pulled him toward the couch, refusing to let go of his hands.

"Where's Mac?"

"He's in the office but, for now, just the two of us are going to talk." Tessa paused for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. "Richie, do you remember having a nightmare early this morning?"

"Did I wake you up?" Richie asked. "Oh, man, I'm sorry, Tessa."

"That's not the point. Do you remember the nightmare?"

"Kinda, but not really."

Tessa sighed. "Duncan and I found you curled up on the floor when we got to your room. Do you remember that?"

Richie shook his head.

"You seemed to be afraid of someone hurting you-someone that hurt you while you were in bed." She paused for a moment, then said bluntly, "A man who hurt you."

Richie grew very pale. "I don't remember that."

Tessa squeezed the young man's hands that she still held. "Richie, I want you to be honest with me. No matter what you say, you will still be my friend and Duncan's. There is nothing to be ashamed of." She looked straight into his eyes. "Richie, were you ever abused-sexually abused-as a child?"

The teenager's eyes grew wide, and he pulled away from Tessa. "NO!" He jumped to his feet and stared down at her. "How could you think that?"

"Richie, the things you said last night made it seem very apparent that *something* traumatic happened to you when you were a young boy. I want to be able to help you."

"Nothing happened! Don't you think I'd know if something did?"

Tessa slowly stood up, afraid that he might bolt. "It's called repression. Our minds help us forget things we don't want to remember. Why don't you tell me what your nightmares are about, Richie."

Richie shook his head and backed up a few steps. "They're just nightmares. They didn't really happen!"

"Well, then it won't hurt to tell me about them, will it?"

Richie wrapped his arms around himself. "They're always about hands touching me at night," he finally admitted. "I can't get away from them, and they hurt me."

Tessa fought to control her tears. Richie didn't need her getting emotional right now. "Do you remember how old you were?" she asked.

Richie remained quiet for a long time. "Eight," he finally whispered. "I was eight."

"Oh, Richie," Tessa said, moving forward to hug the teenager, but he backed away.

"NO! It didn't happen!" he yelled at her before running towards the door leading to her workshop.

"Richie, wait!" Tessa called as she hurried to stop him. He never paused, and she heard the sound of the back door slamming shut before she'd reached the workshop.

Duncan emerged from the office, and Tessa turned toward him. "Oh, Duncan," she said, bursting into tears. "He ran away! What have I done?"

He hurried across the workshop and took her into his arms. "Don't cry, Tessa. He'll be back."

She shook her head. "I don't think so." She began to sob even more.

"Shhhh. It's not your fault. This was my idea. If he doesn't come home, I'll go out and find him. Trust me."

* HL * HL

Richie couldn't get out of the apartment fast enough. He didn't stop to think about where to go-he just wanted to get as far away as possible. His feet pounded the pavement as he ran through the alleys and streets leading away from the shop.

He ran as far as he could, until his straining lungs and aching muscles forced him to a halt. He sagged against a nearby wall, barely able to stand, gasping for air. Still, he felt the urge to flee. As soon as he was able, he started walking, determined to get further away.

Richie tried to concentrate on anything but the conversation with Tessa. A part of him didn't want to believe a thing she had said, but he kept having images flash through his mind.

Images of a small boy, and a man who came to his bedroom late at night.

"No! It didn't happen!" he said harshly, earning him a strange look from a man unloading a nearby truck. Richie flushed lightly and moved a little faster.

He had no idea how long he walked before he decided to rest. A bus stop bench made a handy sitting place, but staying in one place gave him too much time to think.

Time to think about hands touching him where they shouldn't.

Richie saw the bus heading for his location and quickly searched his pockets to see if he had enough change. Soon, he was sitting at the back of the bus as it made its way through the city.

Richie stared out the window, watching the passing scenery. He finally got off the bus when it reached the harbor area. For several more hours, he wandered along the waterfront until he reached Soldier's bridge. He stood on the same hillside where he'd seen Duncan pull Connor out of the water, and gazed up at the bridge.

If he hadn't hidden away in Connor's car, he would never have found out about Immortals. And maybe he'd still be living on the streets. At the time, when Duncan invited him to move in, he'd thought his life had changed for the better.

Now he wasn't so certain.

Richie moved closer to the water. It looked so calm and peaceful from where he stood, the surface showing none of the secrets hidden below.

'It's our little secret.'

Richie shuddered and looked around, but no one was there. He took a few steps closer to the water, but a passing boat filled with noisy people seemed to jar him back to where he was.

Without a backward glance, Richie headed away from the area. He looked at his watch and couldn't believe it was almost four o'clock. Where had the day gone? A gnawing feeling in his stomach reminded him that he had missed lunch. He searched his pockets and wallet to see how much money he had with him and found almost twenty dollars. It wouldn't last long, but he could get something to eat.

He was very familiar with this part of town, having spent almost six months living in an abandoned warehouse nearby. That had been before Duncan and Tessa had taken him in. Just a short distance away was an arcade that was a popular hangout for kids in the area. Its biggest attraction right now was the inexpensive chili dogs that were sold there. A couple of those would tide him over until he decided what to do without straining his funds too badly.

With his stomach satisfied for the time being, Richie headed to his old home. Nothing had changed there since he'd gone to move in with Duncan and Tessa. An old recliner chair that had doubled as a bed was still in the same place, coarse blankets still piled on it. He gingerly sat down, easily remembering how to avoid the broken springs.

As evening and the ensuing darkness approached, Richie thought about what had happened that morning. Surely he would remember if someone had tried to sexually abuse him as a child. After all, he could remember his mom dying. He could remember being spanked almost daily at the Bailey's foster home. He could still hear the jeers and taunts from the other children in the school playground who had real parents.

So wouldn't he remember something as bad as sexual abuse?

"Absolutely," he said out loud. It couldn't have happened. Tessa was wrong. That's all there was to it.

Now, he just had to decide whether he would go back to the apartment. He wasn't sure he wanted to live there anymore-especially if Tessa kept insisting that he'd been abused as a child. Still, it would be better than this dump. He was earning money-not much, but at least it was legal. And who knew where it would lead him in the future.

That was, of course, assuming they were willing to take him back. Duncan had been pretty clear about Richie toeing the line when he'd moved in. Maybe he wouldn't be welcome anymore. A sense of sadness and loss filled the teenager at the thought.

'I'll love you forever.'

Richie bolted out of the chair and looked around frantically. Once again, he was all alone.

'It won't hurt, trust me.'

The teenager spun around, expecting to find someone behind him. Fear filled him when he saw nothing. He backed up into a corner, trying to protect himself from whatever was out there.

'Mustn't tell-it's our little secret.'

"NOOOOO!" Richie screamed out. "It didn't happen!" He slowly sank to the ground. "It didn't happen."

'You belong to me now.'

Alone and in darkness, Richie finally faced his worst nightmares.

* HL * HL

Tessa glanced at the clock again, and gave a sigh. Richie hadn't come home for lunch or dinner, and now it was past their normal bedtime. She'd spent a major part of the day hoping the teenager would come back. Several times she thought she'd heard someone at the door, but each time had been disappointed.

Duncan hadn't been much better. He'd originally planned to go to an antique auction that afternoon, but had decided to stay home, instead. Twice he had gone out, claiming he had some errands to run, but Tessa was fairly certain he'd really been looking for Richie.

She paced around the living room, too upset to settle in one place. Her mind refused to stop thinking about Richie. It didn't help that Nilsson had stopped by and given them a totally different opinion about Richie's past. Tessa hadn't wanted to involve the other Immortal, but Duncan had wanted his opinion since he'd worked with so many troubled boys.

According to Nilsson, Richie was doing something-she thought he'd called it transference, but wasn't sure now-that was very common to mentally unstable people. He would hear about something or see something and immediately place himself in the victim's place. In most cases, the person honestly believed that it had happened to them. Nilsson had suggested that Richie had heard about other cases where foster children were abused and, had begun to think it had happened to him, as well.

Tessa knew Duncan was half-convinced by Nilsson's theory, but she wasn't so sure. After all, Richie was denying that it happened. That just didn't seem to make any sense. She couldn't totally discount the idea, but it was driving her crazy wondering what had really happened.

"Staying up all night isn't going to solve anything," Duncan said from the hallway leading to their bedroom. "Come to bed, Tessa."

"I wouldn't be able to sleep. He ran off without even a jacket on! Do you know how cold it is out there?" She shivered in sympathy even though the apartment was warm. "He must be freezing!"

"He's probably staying with some of his old friends," Duncan suggested. "Richie's a smart kid and can take care of himself. Now, come to bed."

Tessa shook her head. "You go ahead. I'll just stay up a little bit longer," she said.

Duncan sighed and headed back to their bedroom. Tessa continued her pacing. A few moments later, he returned, his arms filled with blankets. Without saying a word, he started a fire, then spread one of the blankets on the couch.

"Come here, Tessa," he said, holding out a hand. "We might as well both wait together."

She joined him on the couch and he wrapped the rest of the blankets around them, forming a warm cocoon. "Just lean back and relax," Duncan coaxed as he lightly hugged her.

They sat there quietly for a long time, just watching the flames flickering in the fireplace.

"I'm so worried about Richie," Tessa finally whispered.

"I know. So am I," Duncan admitted.

"How did this happen? We barely know Richie, yet here we are, losing sleep over him."

"I guess he kind of wormed his way into our lives, didn't he?"

Tessa nodded, then rested her head on Duncan's chest. "And our hearts, too," she added.

She must have fallen asleep at some point during that long night, but she didn't know when. One moment it had still been dark, the next thing she knew the sun was coming up. Tessa glanced up at her handsome lover and saw that he was still sleeping. It wasn't the best that he'd ever looked-after all, his mouth was slightly open, his hair was tangled, and his beard stubble was dark against his skin-but she thought he looked wonderful. The depths of his caring soul stirred a matching feeling from her own, and she knew she was the luckiest woman alive.

* HL * HL

Tessa quietly moved around the kitchen making coffee. It had taken a little bit of maneuvering to extract herself from the couch without waking Duncan, but she had managed. A quick shower had made her feel slightly more human, but two nights with almost no sleep had left dark circles under her eyes that no makeup could disguise.

With the coffee started, she headed for the back door to fetch the morning paper. She unlocked the door, opened it, then reached down for the paper. A movement out of the corner of her eye startled her and she jerked back, giving a small shriek.

"Tessa! It's just me," Richie said as he slowly stood up.

"Richie! You came back! Why are you out here sitting on the ground? Why didn't you come inside?"

The teenager looked down at the ground. "I didn't have my keys," he mumbled. "And I didn't want to wake you up."

Tessa wanted to take the young man in her arms and hold him close-anything to remove the pain that was evident in his voice-but she was afraid that he would run again.

"Tessa? What's wrong?" Duncan asked as he hurried across the workshop floor, katana in hand.

She smiled over her shoulder. "It's Richie. He's come home." She turned back to the teenager. "How long have you been... no, never mind. Come inside where it's warm."

The young man appeared reluctant to come inside, so Tessa reached a hand out and pulled him in. When he came face-to-face with the sword-carrying Immortal, he took two steps back.

"I'm sorry," Richie said. "I'll just grab my stuff and get out of here. You'll never see me again, I promise." He took two more steps backward. "On second thought, you can keep my stuff. I don't really need it."

Duncan frowned and Richie backed up even more, until he was almost out the door. "What are you talking about, Richie?" the Scot asked.

The teenager pointed a shaky hand at the sword. "You won't need that."

Duncan looked down at his sword as if surprised to see it. "I heard Tessa yell. I guess I just grabbed my katana out of habit. I have no intention of using it on you, Rich. Now, why don't you close the door before we heat all of Seacouver?"

"Yes, come along, Richie. Are you hungry? Of course you are. I'll start breakfast right away," Tessa continued to ramble on as she steered Richie toward the apartment. "Do you want to take a shower first? Or would you rather wait until after you eat?"

"I'm not really hungry," Richie replied. "I need to talk to you."

"Oh, all right," Tessa said, slightly startled. "If that is what you want. Let's go into the living room."

"What's with the blankets?" Richie asked when he saw the couch.

Tessa hurried to gather them up. "Duncan and I slept out here last night-that's all."

"Ooookay, if you say so." Richie perched on the edge of a seat.

Duncan and Tessa exchanged glances before sitting down on the couch.

"What did you want to talk about?" Duncan asked.

The teenager stared down at his feet. "You were right, Tessa. I... I remembered everything last night. I was... he used to..." He paused and swallowed hard.

"You don't have to say it," Duncan said. "We understand what you mean."

"Anyway, it happened. It's in the past. I really don't want to talk about it anymore. Okay?"

"No, Richie, it's not okay," Duncan said, his face intent. "You can't keep this bottled up inside of you. You need to discuss this-if not with us, then with someone else."

Tessa briefly wondered if Duncan really believed Richie now, or whether he was just trying to decide whether it really happened. Her attention was jerked back when the teenager jumped to his feet.

"What's there to discuss? Do you want to know the details?" Richie almost yelled. "He used to come to my room at night and make me take off my pajamas. He made me touch him! And he touched me! He'd tell me how much he loved me the whole time!" He choked back a sob. "He said he loved me..."

Tessa stood up and slowly moved closer to the teenager. "Richie, he was a very sick man. No matter what he said, that wasn't love. He had no right doing that to you."

"He hurt me, Tessa," Richie said, looking like he was fighting back tears. "He hurt me." He gave another sob.

Tessa didn't say anything, just opened her arms and waited. A moment later Richie moved into them, and she hugged him tightly as he burst into tears.

Duncan watched the pair, feeling slightly left out. He knew there wasn't anything more he could offer at this point, but he still felt a little bit jealous. And a little bit helpless. Tessa was crying along with Richie now, and he wanted to wrap them both up in a strong hug, but was afraid the teenager would pull away.

The one thing he was certain of, Richie wasn't making this up. He really had been sexually abused as a child. This wasn't something he'd made up or a play for sympathy-no one could act that well. Not that he blamed Nilsson for thinking otherwise. He'd probably only worked with the most incorrigible boys, and Richie didn't qualify as one.

The biggest question now was whether Richie needed professional help. Sean Burns had seemed to think that being a willing and sympathetic listener was the best medicine. If that was the case, Tessa had already made a good start. Still, he wanted to make sure the teenager had all the help he needed. After all, he could have a very long life.

By now, Richie's sobs had lessened sufficiently so that Tessa was able to lead him to the couch, still holding him tightly. The Frenchwoman sat down first, then gently pulled Richie down next to her. She wrapped her arms around him again and the young man nestled up against her like a small child. Duncan retrieved one of the blankets and carefully covered him. The teenager's eyes fluttered shut.

Duncan and Tessa exchanged glances. "Thank you," Duncan mouthed, and received a sweet smile in return. "Coffee?" he asked just as quietly.

Tessa nodded and Duncan went to the kitchen, returning a moment later with the requisite cup. She took a grateful sip of the warm brew before smiling at her lover again. A few sips later, she handed the half-empty cup back to Duncan and leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes. In a moment, she was asleep, too.

Duncan watched over them for a long time, giving thanks that he had found such a wonderful woman to love. And giving thanks for the new friend who had come into their lives. A friend who already seemed like family to both of them.

* HL * HL

Tessa woke up just before noon. Duncan was nowhere in sight and Richie had slid down so that his head now rested in her lap. She stared down at the sleeping youth for several long moments, wishing she could erase his awful past, and wondering what he would have been like as a young child.

She gave a small sigh, wondering if she and Duncan were doing the right thing. They weren't psychiatrists, after all. Still, her mother had always told her a little common sense and a lot of love went a long way. Well, she did have plenty of the latter to go around, so maybe they could handle this.

Richie shifted around a little and, a moment later, opened his eyes. He stared wide-eyed up into Tessa's face for a moment before color flooded his face. He bolted upright, and almost flung himself off the couch.

"Oh, man! Tessa, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep and use you as a pillow," he blurted out.

"Hush, Richie," Tessa interrupted with a smile. "There's nothing to apologize for. I fell asleep, too. We both needed the nap-there have been too many sleepless nights recently."

The teenager nodded slowly before sitting back down at the far end of the couch. "I guess there have been. I'm sorry."

"No more apologies!" Tessa insisted. "This wasn't your fault, Richie. Something horrible was done to you when you were just a child-something that should never happen to any child. Neither of us can change the fact that it *did* happen. What we have to concentrate on is acceptance. You will never be able to forget that time in your life, but you don't want to obsess over it, either."

Richie sighed. "I just wish you had let it go. I didn't remember it until you started questioning me about it."

Tessa moved closer and placed a hand on Richie's arm. "It was a hard decision, Richie, but you were already starting to remember. Your nightmares were an indication of that. I will never forget the other night when we found you huddled up in a corner and you were afraid of Duncan hurting you. It almost tore me apart."

Richie turned slightly pink. "I know Mac would never hurt me," he said in a low tone.

"Duncan and I knew it wasn't about him. You would have been afraid of any man who came into your room that night. We just don't want any repeats of that. That's why we're trying to help you, Richie. We don't want to cause you any more pain."

Richie nodded slowly. "So, what do we do now?"

"Well, I'm no expert," Tessa said with a wry grin, "but it seems to me, that talking about it would help bring it out in the open. If you don't want to talk about it with us, we can get you professional help."

"You mean a psychiatrist?" Richie asked.

"That is one option. I believe there are also support groups for this kind of thing. Where you meet with others who have been through the same thing," Tessa explained. "Whatever you want."

Richie stared off into space for a long time. "I guess I'd like to talk to you about it-if you don't mind," he added hastily.

"Of course I do not mind. As long as you do not mind that I may cry."

The teenager gave her a small grin. "I may cry, too."

"Then we will make sure we have plenty of tissues ready," Tessa said. "Do you want to talk now?"

Richie nodded.

"Would you prefer talking to Duncan about this-you know-man-to-man?" Tessa asked. "Would it be easier than talking to me?"

The teenager was silent for a while. "I guess I'd rather talk to you. Don't get me wrong, Tessa. I like Mac, but sometimes he can be a little bit intimidating. I think it would be harder to talk to him."

"All right. You fetch a new box of tissues from the linen closet. I will make us some hot chocolate. My mother and I always drank hot chocolate when we would have a long talk. How does that sound?"

"Sounds good," Richie said, slowly rising to his feet. He still wasn't sure if this was a good idea but, if Tessa thought it was, then he'd give it a shot. He fetched the tissues, as well as a wastebasket, figuring the Frenchwoman wouldn't appreciate it if they threw the discards on the floor. He hoped he wouldn't cry again, but at least he knew Tessa wouldn't hold it against him if he did.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Richie returned to the living room. Tessa was nowhere in sight-probably making her own trip to the bathroom-and he fought the urge to flee again. If he was going to start a new life here, he had to do this. Duncan and Tessa would keep pushing him until he did. He might as well get it over with.

"Go ahead and sit down," Tessa said as she came into the living room. She continued on to the kitchen, returning a moment later carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. "Duncan was in the office and I asked him to run some errands, so it is just the two of us." She handed one of the mugs to the teenager, then sat down near him on the couch.

Richie almost sighed, glad that she'd left some space between them. He was already starting to feel cornered, and wasn't sure how he would have reacted if she had been closer. He took a sip of his hot chocolate, and could feel the warmth all the way down. It gave him the courage to start talking.

"I must have been only eight or nine when I was sent to the live with them. I'm not sure I even remember their names-I think her name was Terry and his might have been John, but I was in and out of so many foster homes, I'm not sure anymore."

"Were you with them for a long time?" Tessa asked.

Richie shook his head. "I think it was just a few months. Something happened to her-I think she died-and the officials sent me back to the orphanage. I think that's the only thing that saved me."

"What do you mean?"

"They took me away before he... I mean he never..." Richie could feel his face grow warm. He took a deep breath. "He only used his fingers inside me-understand?" he blurted out.

"Yes, I understand," Tessa said, grimacing. "It still wasn't right."

"I know that, but it could have been so much worse. He used to come to my room every night after I went to bed. At first, he just watched me for a while, then he'd kiss me and say goodnight. Then he started..." Richie struggled to find words that Tessa could understand without offending her, "rubbing himself while he watched me."

"I understand, Richie. Why didn't you tell someone?"

"I didn't know who to tell. It was during the summer so I wasn't in school, and my caseworker always acted like I was lying whenever I told her something. When he started touching me, he told me to never tell anyone-that it was our secret. He would tell me he loved me all the time he was touching me. He also told me that all dads did this with their sons."

"He told you what?" Tessa erupted. "If I could get my hands on that... that... animal!"

"Well, I didn't know any better at the time. I really wanted a dad, so I tried to like it. I figured there was something wrong with me because I didn't." He felt a tear roll down his face and brushed it away. "It really hurt, Tessa."

She moved closer and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "I'm sure it did, Richie." Tears were rolling down her face, too.

"One night she came into the room and found him there. She started yelling at him, and hitting him. I remember him shoving her out into the hallway. They kept yelling and shouting and then I heard her scream and some other noises, but I was too scared to leave my room. The next day they took me back to the orphanage. I remember them asking me about how she died, but I couldn't tell them anything."

"And you never told anyone about how he hurt you?"

Richie shook his head. "You're the first one. I didn't even remember it happening. I've had vague nightmares, but I could never seem to remember what really happened."

"Do you know why you started remembering now?" Tessa asked.

Richie stared off into space, debating with himself for a long time. "Tessa, what would you say if I told you that Duncan's friend was the guy who did that to me?"

A shocked look crossed her face for a moment. "I guess I would ask if you were absolutely certain."

"In other words, you don't believe me," Richie said, somewhat bitterly. He hadn't really expected anything else, but it still hurt a little.

"I did *not* say that. I just want you to be positive. We are talking about one of Duncan's friends. You said it yourself-it was a long time ago. Maybe Johan just resembles the man who did this to you."

"No, I'm sure he's the same guy."

"Then I believe you."

Richie gave her a tremulous smile. "Thanks, Tessa, but how do I tell Mac? I don't think he will be quite so willing to believe me."

"Yes, I think that will be a problem. Let me think for a moment." Now it was Tessa's turn to stare off into space. "You said you thought the woman might have died, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure."

"Well, if she did, there should be something in the newspapers. Maybe we could find out more information if we went to the library. They probably have copies of the newspapers on microfilm."

"Do you think so?" Richie asked hopefully. "But how will that prove anything?"

"Well, maybe they had pictures of him, as well. At least we'd have a name to work with."

"Okay, I'm game. Let's go." Richie jumped to his feet.

"Food first. You haven't eaten anything all day," Tessa reminded him.

The mention of food set Richie's stomach growling. "I'm starving!"

* HL * HL

Tessa and Richie spent two hours digging through microfilm tapes, trying to find out what had happened to his foster mother. Just before the library closed, the teenager found the obituary.

"Tessa, here it is! I'm sure of it."

The Frenchwoman moved closer so she could read the screen. Richie was looking at an obituary for a young woman in her thirties.

"Her name was Terry Nelson, and she died in an accident. There's a picture, and I'm sure it's her," Richie said. "It says that she left behind a husband, John. It's just got to be him, Tessa. John Nelson. Johan Nilsson. He must have been using a different name back then, but it's still close enough."

"Or it could just be a coincidence," Tessa pointed out. "That name must be very common. Still, it's a start. Why don't you print off that page."

Richie dug through the change in his pockets. Finally he turned to Tessa with a sheepish grin. "It takes a dime to print, but I don't have one."

Tessa dug out her wallet and produced the required coin. Once Richie had made the copy, she suggested, "Is there anything in the papers about the accident. You may have to go back a few days. It may only be a small article." She watched over his shoulder as he carefully checked through the previous days.

He found nothing.

"I guess a woman dying isn't worth writing about," Richie said bitterly.

"If it was just an accident, they probably wouldn't, Richie. You may be the only one who had any idea it wasn't just an accident."

"Well, it's too late to prove anything," Richie said. "So, what do I tell Mac? I don't have any proof that Nilsson was the one who hurt me."

Tessa sighed. "I guess we tell him the truth. That is all we can do."

"And if he doesn't believe me?"

"We stay away from his friend. He won't be here that long, and once he's gone, he will no longer be a problem."

"At least not to me," Richie pointed out. "But I'd bet he's hurt other kids the same way he hurt me."

A worried look crossed Tessa's face. "Then let us hope that Duncan believes what you have to say."

"Ummmm... Tessa... would you tell Mac about what happened to me? Please? I really don't want to have to tell it again."

"Of course. You have talked about it once, which is the most important thing. Someday, you will be able to talk about it again. Now, I suggest we go home. Duncan is probably getting worried."

* HL * HL

Duncan glanced down at his watch again. It had been only two hours since Tessa had, in essence, banished him from the apartment. At first, he'd been slightly hurt that Richie hadn't wanted him involved in their discussion, but he had kept reminding himself that the most important thing was that the discussion was happening.

He'd finished up all the errands he had outstanding, and tried to decide what to do next. He had no idea how long he needed to stay away from the apartment, but didn't think he should go home quite yet. He decided to give it another hour to be on the safe side. He could really use a good run to release some of his tension and energy, but he wasn't exactly dressed for it.

Since going home to change was out of the question, Duncan headed for the nearest sporting goods store. Twenty minutes later, he was dressed in new sweats and running shoes, and headed for his favorite park. Running in new shoes wasn't his idea of a good time, but he was immortal-he would heal. The three-mile run accomplished the goal, and he felt much better when he returned to the T-bird.

Deciding that enough time had passed, Duncan turned the car toward home. He couldn't wait to find out how Tessa and Richie's discussion had gone. The last thing he expected to find was the note from Tessa, which was very vague about where she and the teenager had gone. Feeling a bit deflated, the Scot headed for the shower.

He headed for the office, figuring paperwork would keep his mind occupied. Another hour passed before he heard the sound of car doors being shut, and he headed for the workshop. A few moments later, Tessa and Richie came through the back door. The teenager took one look at the waiting Immortal and turned pale. He muttered something before almost running into the apartment.

Duncan turned a questioning look toward Tessa, struggling to hide the pain he felt at the teenager's actions.

"It's not you, Duncan," Tessa said. "Come inside and I will tell you all about it."

Tessa struggled to remain calm while she told Duncan about Richie's abuse as a child. Several times, she had to pause and compose herself, but she managed to not cry. The Scot hugged her tightly at the end.

"Richie asked me to tell you," Tessa said. "He didn't want to talk about it again-at least not so soon."

Duncan nodded. "I can understand that. I only hope it's enough that he's talked to you. We'll have to see if his nightmares go away."

"There is more, Duncan, and you will not like it," Tessa warned as she pulled away from him.

"What is it, Tessa?" Duncan asked, not liking the tone of her voice.

"Richie is convinced that the man who hurt him is your friend, Johan," Tessa replied bluntly.

Duncan looked at her in disbelief. "That's ridiculous, Tessa. He's my friend! I've known him for over a hundred years! Don't you think I know what kind of man he is?"

"He would hardly be likely to admit it to anyone-especially not to you. Anyone who knows you knows about your sense of honor. You would never condone that kind of behavior."

"Tessa, you don't understand!" Duncan stood up and began to pace. "Johan has spent much of his life trying to help orphans and troubled youths."

"Maybe he does that so he has access to kids he can abuse," Richie's voice interrupted them.

Duncan spun around to face the teenager. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep the growing anger he felt out of his voice.

"Orphans and troubled youths are always prime candidates for abuse," Richie explained. "They don't have anyone to turn to. I didn't have anyone who would have believed me-just like you don't believe me. That's why he got away with it."

Tessa moved to his side and hugged Richie. "I believe you," she said.

Duncan scrubbed at his face, trying to figure out what to say. Both Tessa and Richie seemed convinced that Johan was involved, but he *knew* the man. He wouldn't do this kind of thing. "Maybe he just looks like the man who hurt you," he suggested.

Richie sighed. "Just forget it," he said bitterly. "I knew you'd never believe me."

"It's not that I don't believe you," Duncan tried to explain. "I just think you have him confused with someone else. It's been ten years-even you have to admit it's a possibility."

Richie shook his head emphatically. "I remember *him*."

"Duncan, didn't you tell me that Johan's wife died shortly after their marriage?" Tessa asked.

Duncan nodded.

"Do you know what her name was?"

He thought about it for a few moments. "No, I don't think he ever mentioned it."

"Maybe she was the woman Richie remembered. It is something to consider. Show Duncan the obituary."

The young man dug the folded paper out of his back pocket and handed it to the Immortal. Duncan read through it quickly.

"This doesn't prove anything. The name is similar, but it's not the same. If anything, this gives more credence to my theory-that you've confused Johan with someone else."

Richie threw his hands up in disgust. "I give up. He's never going to change his mind, Tessa."

"Listen, Richie, I'll talk to Johan-ask him about his wife. If her name was Terry, I'll..." He paused as he tried to figure out what exactly he would do.

"You'll do what?" Richie asked. "Tell him not to do it anymore?"

Duncan sighed. "He's my friend, Richie. If he was the one who hurt you, then he needs help. If he's willing, I'll put him in touch with another friend-a psychiatrist."

"And if he's not willing?" Richie kept pushing.

"Then I'll put an end to it-if I can," Duncan replied.

"Duncan!" Tessa gasped at the implied danger.

"What do you mean 'if you can'?" Richie demanded. "Is he better than you?"

"I don't know, Richie. I've never fought him before. He's much older than I am-he could be better."

"Then let it go," Richie said. "It's not worth it. I don't want you to die because of something that happened ten years ago. I don't want you to die because of me!"

Duncan slowly shook his head. "This isn't just about you, Richie. I can't let him do the same thing to other boys and still live with myself. I will *have* to stop him."

"I shouldn't have told you," Richie moaned. "I should have kept my big mouth shut." He turned and fled to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Duncan turned to Tessa. "You understand, don't you?"

Tessa nodded. "I understand. I wish there was some other way to stop him, but he must be stopped. Just knowing that he is out there, possibly hurting other young boys, makes me feel ill."

"First I need more proof that Johan was the person Richie remembered."

Tessa nodded again. "Just wait until morning. You need a good night's rest before you face him. After all, you've had less sleep than the rest of us. At least Richie and I got a nap this morning."

* HL * HL

The next morning, Duncan stumbled out of bed, feeling no more rested than he had the night before. Every little noise in the apartment had brought him to full alert. He'd half-expected Richie to either have nightmares again, or to try to slip out and deal with Johan on his own.

The Scot couldn't believe neither had happened. He quietly opened the teenager's bedroom door. Richie was sprawled across the bed, covers down around his waist, but still fast asleep.

Moving on to the kitchen, Duncan made coffee while trying to figure out how to approach Johan. He couldn't just go up to him and ask if he had abused Richie ten years ago. The other Immortal would just laugh and deny everything. It would also look suspicious if he bluntly asked what his wife's name was, or if he'd used the alias John Nelson back then.

Duncan wandered back to the living room and spotted the copy of the obituary sitting on an end table. He picked it up and read it more carefully this time. Something sounded familiar and he read it again, then a third time, before he realized what it was. He quickly returned to his bedroom and searched the top of his dresser for another small piece of paper.

"What is it, Duncan?" Tessa asked sleepily from the bed.

"Just looking for something," Duncan said. "Go back to sleep-it's still early." He continued to search, looking through the drawers this time.

The Frenchwoman ignored him, rising from the bed and reaching for a robe draped over a nearby chair. "What are you looking for?"

"The address of Johan's house. I wrote it down, but I don't remember where I put it."

"Oh, I put it in the office. I didn't know if it was important or not," Tessa replied. She led the way there and quickly found the paper.

Duncan compared the two addresses before slowly sinking down onto his office chair. "It was him," he finally said.

"What do you mean?" Tessa asked.

Duncan handed her the two papers. "The addresses are the same. It *was* Johan who abused Richie. How could I *not* know what Johan was like? How many children has he hurt during the years that I've known him?"

"Oh, Duncan, don't blame yourself," Tessa said, throwing her arms around the Scot. "He was probably very good at hiding his... sickness."

"Well, he won't hurt any more children," Duncan declared, standing up.

"Be careful," Tessa said. "I love you."

Duncan kissed her. "I love you, too."

He retrieved his katana before heading for the T-bird. It didn't take long for him to drive to the hotel where Nilsson was staying. A small bribe to the desk clerk got him the room number, and Duncan wasted no time finding the elevator.

Just before he reached the room, the touch of another Immortal told him he'd found the correct place. Duncan didn't have time to knock-the door opened before he could.

"It's Duncan," he called out, not wanting to get skewered by Nilsson.

Nilsson cautiously looked out before smiling. "Duncan, what brings you here so early in the morning?" He waved the other man into the room. "Sorry about the attire," he said as he pointed to the pajama bottoms he had on. "I was still in bed."

"We have to talk," Duncan said, not wanting to waste any more time.

A surprised look crossed the other Immortal's face. "If you insist. Have a seat." Nilsson pointed to the only chair in the room before sitting down on the bed.

"I'll stand," Duncan said. "I know what you did to Richie. How many other children have you abused?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Duncan. I've never met Richie before. He's obviously taken a dislike to me and filled your head with all kinds of lies. He probably feels jealous of our friendship."

"Stop lying, Johan! Or maybe I should say John Nelson? That's the name you used, wasn't it? When you married Terry? When you took a young boy into your house as a foster child? He was entrusted to your care and you sexually abused him! What I don't understand is why? You had a wife-surely you didn't need a small boy, too?"

Nilsson flushed. "You don't understand, Duncan, and you never will unless you try it first. Until you do, don't judge me."

"You're sick, Johan," Duncan spit out, disgust filling him at his friend's words. "You need help."

"I *don't* need help. Stop being so uptight, Duncan. I didn't do any permanent damage to the kid. I didn't have time."

"Oh?" Duncan shot a deadly glare at Nilsson. "What *did* you plan to do to him?"

Nilsson shrugged. "He was the first pre-Immortal I'd ever met. He would have been the perfect answer. I was going to give him a couple more years, then I had planned to take his mortal life."

"And condemn him to a life as a child?" Duncan was appalled at the thought.

"I would have protected him," Nilsson protested.

"As long as he let you use him. A perfect sex toy, frozen at the perfect age." Duncan fought down the nausea threatening to overwhelm him.

"It wasn't like that. It was an honor to be chosen by a warrior," Nilsson replied, anger filling his voice. "Richie would have come to understand that in time. He would have accepted it. Instead, Terry died and they took him away from me."

"You told me you loved your wife, yet you killed her to hide your secret. How could you do that?"

"I *didn't* kill her, Duncan! It was an accident. We were arguing and she was too close to the top of the stairs. She turned away from me and lost her balance. I tried to save her-honestly I did!"

Duncan stared at the other man for several long moments. "I believe you, Johan. Did you come back to Seacouver hoping to find Richie? Maybe take his head now that he was older?"

"No. I came back to get rid of the house. I couldn't believe it when you told me you'd taken Ryan in. I couldn't believe it when he didn't seem to remember me."

"But you were afraid that he might eventually remember you, so you tried to convince me that he was unstable," Duncan guessed.

Nilsson shrugged again. "It was working, too. I almost had you convinced that taking his head would be a good thing. So, where do we go from here? You have my word that I won't try to harm Richie. We don't need to let this come between us, Duncan."

"The only way we can possibly continue as friends is if you get professional help, Johan. I can put you in touch with a good doctor."

Nilsson laughed. "I don't need a doctor. I just want to live my own lifestyle. You shouldn't interfere."

Duncan took a step back. "I can't let you keep hurting children. I challenge you, Johan. Meet me at this address." He scribbled down the address of his warehouse on a piece of hotel stationary. "One hour. Don't make me come looking for you."

"I'll be there," Nilsson said. "One hour."

Duncan backed out of the room, no longer trusting his friend. He didn't want it to end this way, but since Nilsson refused to admit he needed help, there wasn't anything else he could do.

* HL * HL

Richie came out of his bedroom feeling better than he had in several days. If he'd had any dreams or nightmares, he didn't remember them. He hoped they were over with but, realistically, he knew they might return. He'd been so tired that it probably would have taken an earthquake to wake him up.

He found Tessa pacing around the living room, smoking a cigarette. "Good morning, Tessa."

She spun around, startled. "Oh, good morning, Richie." She continued her pacing.

"What's wrong?" Richie asked, starting to worry.

"Duncan just called. He is going to fight Johan," she glanced at her watch, "in about ten minutes."

"I'm sorry, Tessa. I didn't want him to do that. I'll never forgive myself if he loses."

"It is not your fault, Richie. Once Duncan knew the truth, he *had* to fight Johan. That is who he is."

"I don't understand," Richie said, totally perplexed.

Tessa sighed. "Duncan is the type of person who cannot stand by and let someone else be hurt. He hates any kind of injustice, and will do anything to right a wrong."

"Even if it doesn't affect him?" Richie asked. That went against everything he'd ever learned growing up. Rule number one was to watch out for number one. Rule number two was to keep out of anything that didn't involve rule number one.

"Even if it doesn't affect him," Tessa agreed. "Although, in this case, it does affect him because it affects you. He has grown very fond of you in the short time you have lived here."

"Really?" Richie wasn't quite sure if he should believe her.

"Yes, really," Tessa said with a slight smile. "He may not say it, but he does care. As I do."

Richie felt a hot flush spread over his face. He looked down at his feet and mumbled, "I care about you, too." He felt something brush his cheek, and looked up. Tessa was standing next to him, and he realized she had kissed him. He gave her a tentative smile and, when she smiled back, he felt a warmth deep inside that he couldn't really explain.

"Now, then, how about some breakfast?" Tessa suggested as she moved away from the young man.

"I can just have cereal," Richie said.

"No, it will help me keep my mind off Duncan." She moved into the kitchen and starting pulling pans out of the cupboard.

Richie sat down at the dining room table and watched her bustle around. He had a lot to think about. Like the fact that Duncan and Tessa really cared about him. It had been a long time since anyone had done that. Something else he had to think about was the concept of thinking of others first.

He made a promise to himself that if Duncan survived this fight, he would try to follow the Scot's example and help others. It was the least he could do. Duncan and Tessa had offered him a chance at a new life, and he had to prove that he was worthy of it.

It seemed to take forever, but was actually less than twenty minutes before the phone rang. Tessa answered it, and Richie knew it was Duncan by the way she relaxed. The Highlander must have won, and the young man also felt a sense of relief.

Richie was startled when Tessa turned around after hanging up. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and, for a moment, he wondered if maybe he'd been wrong. Then she burst into sobs.

For a moment, he didn't know what to do. Remembering the day before, Richie went to Tessa and held her tightly while she cried. It took a while before she regained control of herself and pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Richie," she said as she dried her face with a towel. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that. It was just the relief of hearing Duncan's voice."

"No problem, Tessa. After all, I did it to you yesterday. It just seems fair that I return the favor. So, Mac won, right?"

Tessa nodded. "Thank you for being here with me," she said with a smile.

Richie smiled back. "Always glad to help."

"In that case, you can do the dishes," Tessa teased, still smiling. "Duncan won't be home for a while. That is why he called-so we would not worry. I am going to go soak in a tub of hot water. It will help me relax."

"Okay, Tessa." Richie watched as she walked across the living room before turning to the kitchen sink.

Dishes done, the young man wandered out to the shop. He looked down at the office desk as he walked by, and saw the obituary. He picked it up and looked at it again, then noticed the other paper that had been underneath. The address was in Duncan's handwriting and matched the one in the obituary. Richie realized it must be the house where they had lived. He spun around and headed for the back door, detouring long enough to get the keys to his bike.

* HL * HL

Duncan let himself in through the back door of the apartment, still depressed over the death of his friend. He knew he'd had to do it, but that didn't really help. He'd seldom had to face a friend in a sword fight, and hoped he'd never have to again.

It had been a close fight. Nilsson had been bigger, stronger, and more experienced. Duncan had just been quicker and more agile. It had made the difference in their life-and-death struggle. The Scot still needed to get rid of the body, but that would have to wait until after dark. Nilsson's body would end up at the bottom of the channel where it could take years for the authorities to find it. He'd already taken the rental car and left it at the airport parking lot. Sooner or later, someone would see it there, but there would be no evidence of when it was left.

He couldn't wait to climb into a hot shower. He felt dirty, and not just because of the blood that he'd been splattered with. Nilsson's comments in the hotel had left him feeling tainted. Maybe once he got cleaned up, he could face Richie and apologize to the teenager. He should have listened to him sooner.

Tessa was lying down in their bedroom, still dressed in a robe. She sat up when he came into the room. He went over and kissed her.

"I'm going to take a shower," he announced.

She nodded. "Are you all right?" she asked with a worried frown.

"I will be." He headed for the adjoining bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. Duncan turned on the water as hot as he could stand it before climbing in the shower. He let the water beat down on his shoulders for several long moments before reaching for the soap. He encountered another hand, and looked over his shoulder.

"Let me," Tessa said as she picked up the soap.

Duncan let her strong fingers slowly massage away his tension, and wash away his guilt. When she was done, he hugged her tightly, giving thanks once again that he'd found her.

Tessa led him to the bed after she'd dried both of them off, and they held each other for a long time. Finally, Duncan gave her another kiss before getting up. "Thank you," he said, knowing she would understand.

They both dressed, then headed for the kitchen. Richie was probably wondering what had happened to them-especially since it was almost lunchtime.

"Where is Richie?" he asked, realizing he hadn't seen the teenager when he'd first come in.

Tessa looked around. "I am not sure. I will check his room. Why don't you see if he is in the shop."

Duncan was fairly certain that Richie wasn't in his bedroom. He would have felt the pre-Immortal as he went by. He quickly headed for the shop, but there was no sign of the teenager there, either. A quick look out the back door showed that Richie's bike was missing. He couldn't believe he'd missed that fact when he'd come home.

"Duncan, he is not in his room," Tessa said from the apartment doorway.

"His bike is missing. He must have gone somewhere," Duncan replied.

"Then he will be back," Tessa said. "Otherwise he would not have taken it."

Duncan had to agree with her, but something was still bothering him. "Did Richie know I was fighting Johan?"

"Yes, he was with me when you called the second time. He knew you won."

Well, at least that meant Richie hadn't gone after the other Immortal. So, where *had* he gone? Duncan thought about it for a few more moments before heading for the office.

"Tessa? Did you move the obituary? Or the address of Johan's house?"

"No, Duncan. They should still be on the desk," Tessa replied, following him into the office.

"They're gone. I bet that's where Richie went. I'd better go after him."

"He isn't in any danger, is he?" Tessa asked.

"Not physically, but I don't know what going back to the scene of the crime will do to him psychologically. Maybe you'd better come with me, Tessa."

"I think you should go on your own. It is time for you and Richie to talk about what happened."

Duncan wasn't so sure, but the Frenchwoman was adamant. He wasted another ten minutes arguing with her before giving in and heading to his car.

* HL * HL

Richie stared at the exterior of the house for a long time, trying to remember if he'd ever been here before. He slowly walked up to the front door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He glanced around the neighborhood before heading to the back door. It was locked too, but the young man had no problem popping the latch with his driver's license.

"Needs a deadbolt," he murmured to himself as he checked out the interior of the house.

Nothing seemed familiar at first, but then he started remembering things. The small table in the kitchen where he ate breakfast while watching squirrels playing in the backyard. The dining room he had always tiptoed through because he'd been worried about breaking the fancy dishes in the built-in cabinets. The sun porch where he had curled up on the couch with Terry while she read books to him.

Richie slowly spun around in the living room, letting the memories wash over him. When he saw the staircase, a reluctant smile crossed his face. How many times had he tried to slide down that banister? Or played that he was a prisoner and the banister rails had been the bars of his prison? Of course, now he knew what jail was really like, and the staircase didn't even come close.

He started up the stairs, feeling a growing sense of dread with each step. By the time he reached the top, he was shaking so badly he had a hard time standing. He stared down the hallway, eyes locked on the furthest doorway-the entrance to his own personal hell.

Richie almost turned and fled the house. He didn't have to do this. He really didn't. Going into that room wouldn't prove anything. It wouldn't make it go away. But something kept pushing him forward, and he knew running was no longer an option.

With slow steps, he approached the room. The door was closed and he reached out with a trembling hand to open it. Richie let the door swing wide open, but remained standing in the hallway for a long time.

Like the rest of the house, the room was empty, but he could easily picture the small bed that had been his. The Star Wars posters that had covered the walls. The bookcase that held not only books, but video tapes as well. There'd even been a small television and VCR in the room.

It should have been a kid's dream come true. Instead it had turned out to be a prison he couldn't escape from.

Richie took a deep breath and stepped into the room. The visions that assailed him didn't bring a smile to his face this time. He slowly sank down onto the floor, drew his legs up against his chest, and wrapped his arms around them as he continued to remember.

* HL * HL

Duncan stood in the hallway for several moments, watching Richie slowly rocking back and forth. He'd wasted no time driving to Nilsson's house, and had known exactly where to find the teenager.

"Richie?" he called out softly, trying not to startle the young man.

The teenager stopped rocking and looked over his shoulder at Duncan. His face was streaked with tears. "Why did he do it?"

"I don't know, Richie. Maybe it was because of the time he was born. He actually thought it was an honor he was bestowing on you."

"Some honor," Richie said bitterly.

The Highlander slowly moved into the room and knelt down a short distance from the young man. "The most important lesson an Immortal needs to learn is that he must change with the times. Johan didn't do that. As far as he was concerned, if it was acceptable a thousand years ago, it was still acceptable now. There was no changing his mind."

"So you took his head."

"Yes, he had to be stopped." Duncan paused for a moment. "I owe you an apology, Richie. I should have believed you."

Richie shrugged his shoulders. "I don't blame you for that, Mac. After all, you knew him longer than you've known me. I'm just some street kid you took in to keep quiet."

"No, you're my friend," Duncan insisted. "You had no reason to lie about Johan."

"Even if you had believed me, it wouldn't have changed anything," Richie said. "It happened long before you knew me."

"But I think I hurt you by not believing in you."

"Nah, I don't let things like that bother me," Richie said, turning his face away from the Scot.

"A regular tough guy, huh?"

"That's right."

Duncan knew better, but didn't push the issue. If the teenager wanted to hide behind his street-kid facade, he'd let him for a while. He'd just keep chipping away at it until the real Richie emerged. He rose to his feet and held a hand out to the young man.

"You ready to go home, tough guy?"

Richie stared at the offered hand for a long time, but Duncan refused to pull it back. He was about to give up when the young man grasped it and let the Scot help him to his feet. He wanted to hug the teenager, but knew it was too soon. While Tessa might get away with it right now, it would take a while before Richie would feel comfortable being embraced by another man.

Duncan settled for placing a hand on the teenager's shoulder. "How about picking up a pizza on the way home?"

"Sounds good to me," Richie replied.

They went downstairs together. Richie paused at the front door and looked back up the stairs with a troubled expression.

"What if he wasn't the only one?" he asked. "If I forgot him, maybe I've forgotten others, too. What if I start to remember them?"

"Then we'll handle it. We've got a little experience behind us now. Just remember that Tessa and I are always willing to help you with any ghosts that you have in your past."

Richie gave him a small smile. "Yeah, you're regular ghost-busters. Thanks, Mac."

"You're welcome, Richie. Why don't you head on home, while I pick up the pizza?" Duncan suggested.

Richie headed for the apartment. Halfway home, he had to pause for a stoplight. Looking around, he noticed an orphanage and realized it was the one he'd been placed in several times. They probably had his records there. Records with names and addresses. If he could get his hands on them, he could see if he could remember anything else.

If he got his hands on them, maybe he could find his real father.

It would take some planning, but if he couldn't con them out of some old paperwork, he was losing his touch.

The light changed and he started the bike moving again. By the time he got home he had a plan.

The end.

Leslie Dawson 3/4/98.

Okay, here's my challenge to anyone who's up to it.

I would like to see story about Richie's pre-immortal days in which he is kidnapped by an Immortal who tortures him before he manages to escape. Now, here's the challenging part. Have the Immortal be an old friend of MacLeod's who denies that he did anything to Richie and MacLeod has to decide who to believe. Also, just to make it interesting, have Richie try to pick a fight with MacLeod in order to kill him because he doesn't want to live with the memories of what happened.