Disclaimer. Still not mine.
AN – Very slightly AU in that I never did really understand how Duncan was going to watch Richie if he was going to leave Tessa, so no-one will be threatening to leave anyone but otherwise cannon."Yes, right. Thank you officer. I'll be there in the morning. Goodnight."
Duncan put the phone down with a profound sense of relief. At least something had gone right tonight.
"Who was that?"
The coolness in Tessa's tone reminded him all too vividly of the many things that had gone wrong tonight. Summoning an apologetic smile he turned towards her.
"I'm sorry, this hasn't been much of a birthday for you, so far has it?"
The way her eyes narrowed warned him she wasn't ready to be placated. He could hardly blame her. First their love making him been interrupted by a teenage thief and then Slan Quince had dropped in uninvited. Closely followed by his own kinsman Connor Macleod, who had opened Tessa's eyes to a world of challenges and retribution that the man she trusted with her life had deliberately kept hidden from her these past twelve years.
"It was the Police," He conceded. "They picked up our little thief a few blocks from here. He had some jewellery from the Store in his pocket, so they arrested him."
"Arrested?" Tessa looked shocked. "But he's just a boy. He doesn't belong in jail with murderers and thieves."
"Tess, he tried to rob us," Duncan nodded towards the couple of cups, a bowl and other valuables, which spilled out of the holdall left abandoned in the Store. He looked away. "Besides, he's safer in jail."
"Safer?"
The word hung in the air between them.
"He's still a minor, they won't put him in with the hardened criminals." Duncan moved out into the Store, busying himself with picking up a chair here, a broken vase there, anything to avoid the look in her eyes.
"You think this Slan will harm him." She crossed her arms. And me. Although she did not voice that thought.
"He's not part of this," Duncan shrugged, knowing that wasn't entirely true."I'm just being cautious."
Because you need to be, her eyes accused him. Because you believe that he will come here again, invading our lives and our home with his violence and hate. And death.
"When you threatened to cut off the boy's head," her words were soft, but her expression was not. "You meant it."
She had seen how the blonde's eyes had widened with sheer terror when Duncan had threatened him with the Katana in his hands and deadly intent in his eyes. How desperately he had tried to bargain for his life.
He couldn't deny it. She knew him too well. But then he couldn't explain either. Not really.
"I thought he was someone else."
"Oh well that would make it alright." Her words were thick with sarcasm.
"Tessa," He stood in the middle of the store, looking at the smashed windows and scattered objects and feared deep in his soul that he was looking at the wreckage of his life. "I'm sorry. I should have told you about all this before."
Something in the stance of this man, whom she loved more than life, caught at her soul and she crossed towards him, laying her head on his chest, finally allowing herself the familiar comfort as his arms came around and held her in his embrace.
"You can tell me later." She allowed.
"Later?" He drew back slightly, surprised.
"We have not yet finished what we were doing when we were so rudely interrupted, non?" She smiled suggestively.
He nuzzled her hair lightly, breathing in the scent of her, the life. Perhaps it would not be so bad. But deep at the core of him he knew that things had changed and that the paradise he had enjoyed for more than a decade was about to come to an end.
And then there was the boy to consider.
By the time he had returned from his run the next morning, his mind was made up. It was harsh, but the boy could hardly carry on as he so obviously had been and this way at least he might yet survive until he could hold his own in the Game. Of course, he'd never take to him afterwards, but Duncan wasn't on the lookout for a student. Let Connor be the firm but fair Uncle who turned up on visiting days with contraband and chocolate to win the blonde over.
It was for the best.
What he hadn't counted on was Tessa's reaction.
"But you can't press charges," She stared at him when he broke the news over breakfast, a forkful of eggs frozen halfway to her mouth. "Duncan, he's only a child. You saw how thin he was. And his hair has not been cut in too long and his clothes! I do not think anyone can be taking care of him. His jeans were all ripped."
"I think that's the fashion sweetheart."
"Well, I do not think that jacket is haute couture," Tessa refused to be mollified. "Obviously he needed the money."
Duncan sighed. He'd seen her sympathy for his plight in her eyes last night. The boy had had an air of casual neglect. His clothes well worn and not exactly clean. And thin, too thin for a growing lad his age.
Still.
"That's exactly my point," he put down his coffee cup and leaned across the table towards her, trying to convince her. "He can't be more than sixteen. If he's convicted now for a first offence he won't get more than a couple of years. In Juvie he'll get decent food, a chance at a proper education, a fresh start and best of all, he'll still be alive."
"You can be so sure of this?" Tessa challenged. "What if he is older? What if the courts give him a longer sentence? If he is eighteen he will be put in an adult jail, n'est pas? You are no fool, Duncan Macleod. You know what such places would be like for a boy like him."
"Tess." He floundered he knew that, of course he did. Sensing her advantage she pressed on.
"What he needs Duncan, is a home, a family who cares enough for him to know when he is out in the middle of the night, to support him in being whatever he wishes to be, who can teach him by example to be a better person. Locking him up will only teach him to be a better criminal!"
"I think he's pretty good already." Duncan commented wryly. The boy had gone through their state of the art security system like it wasn't even there.
"Duncan!"
"Tess, I can't just let him walk. What if he starts shooting his mouth off about what he saw? We could all be in danger. Including him."
"Why not just tell him the truth?"
"About Immortals?" Duncan almost choked on his coffee. "First he robs us, then on the phone last night they told me he tried to save his own skin by spinning some tale about three men with swords and now you want me to entrust him with a secret that affects countless lives?"
"Well then," Tessa smiled sweetly, sensing victory within her grasp. "You'll just have to make him a deal he can't refuse, won't you?"
"Alright," He sighed, conceding defeat. "No charges."
As he arrived at the Police Station he had harboured hopes that he might have been mistaken. That perhaps the boy was not of their kind after all. But as he approached the small interview room the soft thrum of a pre-immortal buzz beat steadily. When he found out Ryan was nearly eighteen he almost changed his mind and decided to press charges after all.
Almost.
Except that Tessa would kill him.
Still, Duncan had to fight to keep his temper in check. Everything about the waythe blondewas lounging in the small interview room was calculated to annoy, to demonstrate that he was too hard and too cool to be phased by a night in the cells.
"This gentleman would like to talk to you," Powell knocked Richie's feet off the desk. "Now you give me one excuse to bust your butt while you're still here and you'll do ten on the taxpayers' money, punk. Got it?"
"Oh, yes sir, Sergeant Powell, I certainly do, sir."
The obvious sarcasm had Duncan clenching his jaw in anger, forcing him to look away, so that he missed the flat, hollow, look in the boy's eyes as Powell effectively washed his hands of him.
"He's all yours."
By the time Duncan looked back Ryan had railed; he knew as well as Duncan that the Police had enough evidence to put him away. The Antique Store owner's refusal to press charges could only mean one thing; he was here to cut a deal and they both knew it.
"Honestly sir, I really do appreciate this second chance you're going to give me to become a useful member of society."
His insincerity grated on Duncan's nerves, so that his response came out harsher than he had intended.
"If I let you out of here, I do not want anyone coming around asking about your little fantasies. That is the deal."
Ryan had agreed, as well he might. But his little speech had done nothing to further endear him to the Immortal, causing him to mutter darkly to himself in Gaelic under his breath 'word of honour' indeed! What did a liar and a thief know about honour?
"So, I'd love to stay and chat," Ryan's cheeky tone cut into his thoughts. "But I've got things to do, places to be .."
"People to rob?" Duncan cut in his tone cold.
The boy just gave him a cocky grin and slid the sunglasses firmly into place as he stood up, gathered up the rest of his stuff and made his way towards the door.
"Ryan."
At the sound of his name the boy stopped, but did not turn. Duncan clamped his jaw together and forced himself to be patient, with Slan still in town he couldn't in good conscience just let him walk out of here. Pulling out his wallet, he extracted one of his business cards and quickly scrawled the private line to the apartment on the back. Extracting a twenty-dollar bill, he paused before adding two more and walked around until he was facing him.
"If you see anything of Slan, call me."
The boy looked at the money as if it were contaminated and made no move to take it. Correctly reading his reluctance to accept what he saw as blood money, Duncan's opinion of the boy rose slightly. With a sigh he pocketed the money and offered the card again.
"Just call."
The boy took the card, looked at it, flipped it over, read the number on the back and dropped it on the table as he shook his head.
"I can look after myself. Always have."
If that were true, Duncan reflected wryly as he sparred with Connor in the abandoned warehouse, then it was amazing that the boy had lived this long. He was too damn curious for his own good.
"The boy's here." Connor noted, as they broke apart.
"I know."
Duncan turned away, busying himself with rubbing the Katana with a soft cloth, as he tried to gather his thoughts.
"After he left the Police Station. I followed him."
"Oh?"
He wasn't quite sure what he had expected, but it certainly hadn't been what he had found. The boy had headed across town to a subdivision of small, neat houses, bright with new paint and front yards full of flowers. Not bothering with the front door Richie had scaled the trellis of a compact blue and white house, disappearing through an open window. At first, Duncan had assumed he was robbing the place but, just as he was about to intervene, Ryan had re-emerged out of the window wearing the unmistakable uniform of a local small scale burger chain.
"He has a job?" Connor looked as surprised as he had felt.
"If you can call below minimum wage a job." Duncan had rubbed a little harder at the sword blade. A word with a fellow employee had established that Ryan worked a ten hour shift for a handful of dollars a day alongside illegal immigrants and in conditions he was sure the health department would condemn.
"What about his family?" Connor asked.
"You mean the people who were too busy to come to the Police Station and collect him? Not to mention even notice the fact that their son had been out all night?" Duncan scoffed. "They own the burger joint. The boy's nothing more than slave labour."
"As soon as he turns eighteen he'll be a free agent."
"I know," Duncan had been thinking about that. After work Ryan had headed to a piece of waste ground near the railways tracks where he had gazed with undisguised longing at the brightly coloured motorcycles that zipped too and fro. And done a roaring trade selling and fitting parts like a pro. Stolen parts unless the Scot missed his mark. But it had given Duncan an idea. "The garage where I have the T-Bird serviced. The owner's name is Carl Davies. He's been looking for an apprentice mechanic. The wages are low, but there's a small apartment above the garage that comes with the job and he'll train the boy up. In a few years if he keeps his nose clean and his head down he could own his own place. Be his own boss."
"You think the lad will be agreeable?"
Duncan smiled thinly. "I wasn't planning on giving him a choice."
For the third time Tessa picked up the vase and tried it in a different spot, stepping back to get the full effect. Duncan had bought it the other week from a widow who wanted to raise the airfare to go and live with her daughter in Florida. It was beyond doubt the ugliest thing she had ever seen. She shook her head in disgust.
"It is impossible." She declared.
Decision made she picked up the vase and strode over to the back door into the alley. Opening the door she pulled back her arm and launched the vase into a perfect arc, so that it shattered against the back wall, sending shards in all directions.
"Shit."
The barely muffled cry brought her out into the alley.
"Qui est la?" She demanded, belatedly switching to English. "Who's there? Show yourself!"
Silence.
Her nerves already on edge from her encounter with Slan, Tessa reached back and picked up the broom that they used to sweep out the workshop, advancing into the alley brandishing it before her as a weapon.
"I know where you are," she lied. "I can hear you."
The slightest rustle in the paper-strewn alley alerted her to movement and she spun around so that the broom connected with the fleeing figure with a solid whack, causing him to cry out in genuine pain and fall to all fours, clutching his arm. Only then did Tessa recognise him.
"Oh petit," she cried, dropping the broom and rushing to his side. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"
"M'fine." Richie muttered through gritted teeth.
"Of course you are not," Tessa corrected herself. "How can you be? I just hit you with the broom."
"S'OK," Richie managed, flexing the injured limb gingerly. "I don't think its broken or anything."
"Are you sure?" Tessa worried. "Perhaps an X-ray?"
"No," Richie vetoed that, hauling himself to his feet with the courage of his conviction. "No hospital."
"Well, at least come inside and let me take a look at it," Tessa declared. "I will find you something for the bruising."
Richie sat at the counter in the vast kitchen feeling utterly out of place as the Frenchwoman gathered together a selection of pots and jars that she peered at uncertainly before adding them to the pile as he slipped awkwardly out of his jacket.
"Take your T-shirt off too." Tessa commanded. No sense in getting ointment on the long sleeves.
"Um," Richie looked a little sheepish. "I'm not sure I can."
"Oh," Tessa realised, coming behind him to help ease the T-shirt over his head. As her heard her gasp he figured the bruising on his arm must look as bad as it felt. He tried to hop off the stool.
"Look, I'm fine. I'll just go."
"You will not," Tessa declared stoutly. "You will sit still and let me take care of you."
"Yes ma'am." He replied, teasingly, throwing her a mock salute.
"My name is Tessa," she told him, smiling in return, as she finally selected one of the jars and began to gently rub a sweet smelling cream into the abused flesh. "And you are Richie, non?"
"Did the cops tell you that?"
"No, Duncan did."
"Oh." Richie looked away.
"The other night was very new to me too, you know," Tessa spoke softly.
"Were you scared?"
"Of course. Anyone would be. But I also know that Duncan is a good man. He would sacrifice his own life before he would allow an innocent to be harmed."
"Jason's real bad news, huh?" Richie surmised.
"Jason?"
"In the Hockey mask."
"Oh. Yes, I think so. You must be careful, petit."
"I always am."
She fervently wished that she believed that. Finishing up and putting the lid back on the jar she was just about to offer him something to eat when the slam of a car door announced Duncan's return. Like a deer caught in the headlights, Richie froze.
"Wait," Tessa tugged at his wrist, feeling the thin bones beneath. "Stay for dinner. It will be alright."
"Right, your old man comes home to find me in his kitchen with my shirt off," Richie was already frantically shrugging into his jacket, gritting his teeth against the pain, before snatching up his T-shirt. "That is so, not going to be all right."
"At least, take this." Tessa pressed the rest of the ointment into his hand.
"Tessa!" Duncan's voice echoed through the apartment, edged with concern.
Richie flashed her a quick grin and stuffed something into her hands.
"Almost forgot. I came to give you this."
The he was gone.
When Duncan as he entered the room, he found her standing with an envelope of used dollar bills in her hands and a bemused look on her face.
"What's that?"
"I think, its payment. For the window."
"It's a good idea Tess," Duncan insisted as they sat down to dinner. "He'll have a place to live, the chance to learn a trade and Carl and his wife have three teenagers of their own. It'll be like a ready made family."
"Working in a Garage?" Her expression said she didn't think much of the idea. "He should be in School."
"Maybe later," Duncan agreed. "Right now, I just want to get him off the streets."
"We have a spare room. And we could use some help around the Store."
Duncan knew that she thought they should be doing more to help. Except that taking in a pre-immortal before his time would be like throwing an infant to the lions. Ryan would find himself in the midst of a world that was out to get him with no idea of how to defend himself or even why it was necessary.
But he couldn't tell Tessa that.
"I don't think working in an Antique Store would be exactly his thing, sweetheart."
"Why not? He clearly knows something of Antiques," Tessa pressed her point. "He knew better than to steal that awful vase."
"I told you. The poor woman wanted the money so she could go and live with her daughter in Florida. I could hardly tell her she had nothing of value to sell."
"I'll bet she tells that to all the Antique Dealers. She probably has a whole cupboard of those dreadful things under the stairs."
"He'd have to wear a suit," Duncan tried to change the subject. "I can't see that going down too well."
"You do not wear a suit," Tessa pursed her lips considering. "We can buy him some new jeans, black perhaps, and a few nice shirts. Blue would bring out the colour of his eyes. He will look adorable and charm all the rich ladies."
"Tessa, he's a human being. Not a Labrador puppy. And you wouldn't be able to take him back to the pound when he leaves marks on your cream couch or makes off with all the food from the fridge."
"Really, Duncan. Now who is talking of him as if he were a puppy?"
"I'm talking about him as if he's a teenager. They don't exactly come housetrained."
"So there will be mess and some noise," Tessa tossed her hair. "It is a small price to pay, non? For helping another human being?"
"We're already helping him Tess. We didn't send him to jail for a start and he'll enjoy working at the Garage far more than he will sweeping out your storeroom or filling my invoices."
"I suppose so." Tessa admitted reluctantly.
"I know so," Duncan relaxed into a smile. "Trust me, sweetheart. Everything will be just fine."
