Chapter 25

Richie looked through the bag Tessa had packed and sent to him. He half expected some of his favourite t-shirts to be "missing," Richie knew how much she hated a few of them. But they were all there, apart from one – Duncan had told him Frankie had taken a few things home with her, Richie guessed his favourite t-shirt was one of those things.

Richie sighed and lay back on his bed. He could unpack later. It had been 2 weeks since he'd died. It had taken nearly a week for Duncan and Tessa to get back into the Loft to prepare it for sale. Richie guessed he'd made a mess when he was bleeding out all over the floor…

His funeral had been held three days previously. Tessa informed him there was a good turnout – which was weird to know. And strangely upsetting. Maybe it was because leaving everything behind would be easier if he thought no one cared or would really miss him. It was hard enough to know what he was doing to Frankie without having to think about anyone else missing him.

And Frankie had gone home yesterday. Duncan and Tessa had made a point of phoning him every day to keep him up to date with events. Tessa had told him they'd taken her to the airport after speaking to her mum to ensure someone was going to be at the other end to meet her. Richie had wanted to give back her Miraculous Medal. He didn't feel he deserved it now. He'd left it with Tessa when he'd come to New York with Connor. But Frankie had refused it. Given it back to Tessa. Asked for Richie to be buried in it.

It was sat on the top of his things when Richie had first opened the bag. He picked it up now from the bedside table and looked at it. He shouldn't wear it… He'd decided their fate single handedly. Given her no say, no choice, no input. He still believed he'd made the right decision. But this was a symbol of their love. Their love that he had ended. The Virgin Mary stared at him from the face of the medal.

"I don't even know if I believe in God," Richie mumbled to himself. Not that that was even really the point. It wasn't why she'd given it him in the first place.

Frankie had wanted him to have it. She believed he was buried wearing it. The least he could do was wear it, even if his heart ached every time he thought of her and this medal reminded him of her and everything he no longer had. It was what Frankie was having to live through as well. He could at least feel the same pain as her right?

Well not the same, but just as painful. She thought he was dead and would have to live the rest of her life knowing he was gone. Never able to see him again. He knew she was alive and would have to spend the rest of his life knowing that and never being able to see her.

The more he thought about it the more it hurt.

He slipped the necklace back on.

"Richie?" Rachel's voice floated through the apartment. She knew he'd be in his room. It's where he always was when no one else was in, or in fact was just where he always was unless either she or Connor made him come out.

He didn't bother answering. He was used to the routine now. He'd answer and they'd just ask him to 'come here a minute', so it was just easier to skip the answering step.

He dragged himself off the bed and went to his door.

"You're home early," Richie observed.

Rachel smiled. "I thought you might be in need of some company."

"You didn't need to come home early for me." Richie said frowning.

"Of course I didn't have to." Rachel agreed. "But I wanted to. You're spending too much time alone at the moment and I don't want you dwelling on the things that can't be undone."

"What like being dead?" Richie asked raising his eyebrows. "Gotta say I'm doing better than most in that situation." He lent on the doorframe and crossed his arms.

"In that you're breathing yes. But you're also achieving about the same as most in that situation – nothing."

"What am I supposed to be achieving?" Richie demanded. "I can't go out in case someone tries to chop off my head, I can't start to learn how to fight because Connor won't go their cos I'm 'Duncan's student', and who knows when Mac's gonna come get me. And when he does I'm leaving here anyway so what am I supposed to start that I can leave at a moment's notice?"

Rachel shrugged and then smiled. "How about dinner?"

Richie rolled his eyes and started to walk towards her. "You think I'm moping? Is that why you're trying to distract me?"

Rachel took him by the hand and started leading him towards the kitchen. "I think you miss your family. And I think your world has just changed forever. And it was a world you were happy in. So I do think you're moping, but I understand why. That doesn't mean I'm going to let you sit in that room all day every day and only come out when you have to. I've given you two weeks, now I think it's getting unhealthy."

"Look, I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine. Really."

Rachel didn't respond for a long moment, she just stared at him until he felt well and truly uncomfortable. Which he told her.

"Sorry." She said, and went to the fridge." I was just wondering if that ever worked with Tessa or Duncan?"

"What?"

"Saying you're fine when you are obviously anything but?" Rachel clarified, handing him a knife and a pepper. "Chop that for me please."

Richie mechanically took the knife and pepper. "I guess they chose their battles," he admitted wryly.

"You don't have to talk to me about anything you don't want to, just talk to me about something. It's the easiest way to get me off your back. And it's me or Connor."

Richie paused mid chop.

"Huh?"

"He's not very good at expressing himself, but he's worried about you. And until Duncan arrives he is responsible for you. He was saying this morning he needs to try and get you out of your room and conversing. I thought I would save you from a well meaning Connor."

Richie thought the world of Connor – truly he did, but the idea of him trying to get him to… converse… was horrifying. Mac was good at that sort of thing. Could get him talking before he realised he was. But Connor had always struck him as more of an action guy, than a chatty guy. There had, of course been the odd time where he'd given advice, but that had been more of a, 'right time, right place' scenario. Drop in a few words of wisdom and then let Mac or Tessa take over…

"Er thanks." He stuttered.

"So," Rachel smiled again. "What shall we talk about?"

Richie shrugged. Then noticed the liquor cabinet.

She'll never go for it…

!

Richie felt the presence of another Immortal wash over him. Absently he wondered when he would get used to it, and when it would stop sending a ripple of fear through him when he felt it. If it ever did stop. Logically he knew it would be Connor, he'd been getting home at this time every night since Richie had been there, but it still made him jump a little every time.

Rachel saw the change, and followed his gaze to the door.

"He's home then?"

Richie nodded, waiting to see the door open so he could be sure it was Connor and not anyone else. And finally let out the breath he tried not to hold when Connor came through the door.

Connor appraised the room for moment and then his eyes narrowed. "Is that my scotch?"

Richie looked down at his glass that did indeed hold Connors scotch.

"Rachel made me," Richie said instantly. It was almost true – she'd wanted to talk after all not him. It wasn't his fault she'd actually agreed to discuss the correct way to drink scotch. And it had been her that had insisted you couldn't just talk about it, you had to try it…

"He's moving to Scotland – he can drink there, I thought he may as well learn to appreciate a good scotch here." Rachel said taking a sip of her own drink and neglecting to mention Richie's part in it. Which he reflected, was probably for the best. "Would you like one?"

"Duncan will kill me if I get him drunk." Connor said still frowning and ignoring the question.

"Er, I'm not drunk," Richie pointed out. "And he's not here anyway."

"I'm teaching him to appreciate the drink Connor," Rachel said in a tone that was almost disapproving. "You of all people should know that that's completely different to getting someone drunk. I would have started with wine but we seem to be lacking any good vintages."

"So you thought my fifty year old scotch was a better plan?"

"Fifty years old!" Richie squeaked. "Wow. Bet it was expensive. "

"The point," Rachel said before Connor could respond, "Is that Richie now knows never to add ice, that it should be left at room temperature for at least twenty minutes to breathe, and sipping are all important components to the best experience."

"Yeah, the way I see you and Mac downing it in one - that's a big no no if you wanna appreciate the taste."

Connor raised his eyebrows. "Now he's criticizing how I drink?"

Rachel shrugged. "He has a point."

Connor's frown deepened. He let his gaze fall on Richie "I never down anything over 15 years old. That's why I have the younger vintages in the apartment. Same with Duncan. Not that I want to see you doing any of that until you're actually old enough to legally drink."

Richie raised an eyebrow. "Connor, as you pointed out, legally I'm dead. I think compared to that a little drink here and there is nothing."

"I'll let you tell Duncan that shall I?"

"Erm…" Richie was saved from answering by the phone ringing.

"Speaking of Duncan," Connor muttered. "You might as well get it. He never wants to speak to me anyway."

Richie couldn't help but smile at that. He hopped off the sofa and reached for the phone while Connor muttered about going to help Rachel with the dinner.

"Hello."

"Richie?" Duncan's voice.

"Hey Mac," Richie sank into the armchair next to the phone.

"You sound happier today." Duncan sounded relieved.

Richie hadn't realised Duncan had picked up on his mood, but then of course he had, he always did.

"Yeah, I guess I am a bit. Rachel's really cool."

Duncan laughed. "It's taken you two weeks to work that out."

"Well, maybe she had to kinda force me to pay attention."

"Forced you?" Duncan asked. "How?"

"Apparently Connor was getting worried about me. And, like threatening to try and talk to me or something."

Duncan laughed again. "And that would have been bad?"

"Hell yeah," Richie said emphatically. "Not to mention weird. He's no you Mac."

A moment of silence as the casual comment Richie had meant nothing by when he'd said it sank in for both of them. "I mean…"

"I know what you mean," Duncan assured him. "And I've been on the receiving end of Connor when he's worried. You aren't ready for that side of him yet. And I don't think he's ready for you yet either."

"Well catastrophe averted," Richie assured glancing at Rachel and Connor in the kitchen, so at home with each other – which he supposed they should be after all these years. Rachel saw him looking and winked at him as she pointed Connor to another task. "How's Tessa?"

"Packing. That's why it's taken me until now to phone."
"Cos Tess is packing?"

"We sold the store," Duncan explained. "Tessa's finishing packing everything we want to keep."

"So does that mean…"

"We'll be in New York tomorrow evening."

A/N I've been to Scotland to a whisky distillery and the man doing the tour was quite adament about exactly how whisky should be drunk - that's where I got my info for that bit.