"What made you come out, son?" The Immortal questioned, once again using that suspiciously low tone.
Both the foreign tone and unexpected use of the title 'son' motivated the teen to respond quickly. Unfortunately, that didn't provide him with much opportunity to come up with an appropriate response. Once again, he found himself actually spouting the truth. "I heard him out there."
Looking intensely at the teen, Tessa was more shocked to hear that response than the Immortal. She responded to it immediately. "Why on earth would you come out if you knew Lamont was there?"
"I just…I had to know where he was. I needed to see him." The teen replied.
Duncan was utterly speechless. Tessa, though, was not. "You had to see him? Why on earth would you want to see him?"
"I needed to see this end; to see him get caught." Richie attempted to explain his thinking.
Duncan finally had a response. "And what if he didn't get caught? What if he caught you instead?"
"I knew he couldn't get me." The boy answered flatly.
That response really peaked the couples' interests. Tessa replied first. "How could you know that, Richie? After the last few days, how could you possibly feel safe seeing him again; especially by yourself?"
"I wasn't by myself. There were cops and orderlies and all you guys around. I could hear it. Besides, dad was here. I knew he wouldn't let Lamont hurt me." The teen answered calmly; then looked pointedly at the Immortal.
Looking down at the injured teen, Duncan wasn't sure how best to respond. Sure, he had told the boy to stay put, but he couldn't honestly say he blamed Richie. If making his way to the door to watch his tormentor being apprehended gave the teen some closure, how could he deny him that? Exchanging a torn glance with Tessa, the Immortal gave a cautious smile before he replied. "Of course I wouldn't."
Maybe it wasn't the best response possible. Maybe it was. Tessa wasn't quite sure. She wasn't quite sure of anything anymore. This last week had completely shaken her perceptions of how her little family was supposed to work. Duncan was supposed to be the protector; but the Immortal had not only been unable to keep their family safe, he had also not been the one to save either her or Richie. And she was trying desperately to be a mother to their teenaged charge; but when true danger arose it was he who cared for and comforted her, not the other way around. Nothing was happening like it was supposed to and where things should go from here were far from clear.
"Alright, seriously, this is just stupid. I'm fine." Richie tossed aside the remote control, irritated at both it and the entire situation.
Duncan felt for the boy. He really did. He was far from persuaded by the argument, though. "Fine, huh?"
"Okay, so I'm not exactly 100." Richie wasn't a complete idiot. He knew that arguing he was 'just fine' with three broken ribs, a concussion, multiple contusions and bruises and two very large and conspicuous black eyes was not exactly going to fly. That didn't mean that he was willing to concede that he was fated to be bored stiff watching French TV in a sterile hospital room. "But I'm well enough to know that watching soap operas in a foreign language does not result therapeutic healing."
"Richie." Duncan had to laugh. The teen had a way of getting to the heart of the matter. "This is a political debate, not a soap opera. And no one told you to watch it; you picked it, remember? You could just turn it off you know."
Snatching up the remote once more, the teen impatiently turned the screen to black before turning his attention to the Immortal at his side. "My ribs are taped, my cuts are medicated, I have bandages on every conceivable part of my body and you said yourself that my medications are ready. Why can't we just go already?"
"Because you have a concussion and the hospital wants to monitor you overnight." Duncan told him patiently.
Richie wasn't feeling nearly as patient. He desperately wanted out of there. His need to forget about what had transpired over the past few days was overwhelming and being stuck in the stiff hospital bed with the regulation sheets and sterile smells was just too much of a reminder of what had happened to bear any longer. He needed out and at this point he would use whatever weapon he could to make that freedom a reality; even if it meant guilt-tripping the Scotsman to his left. "Can't you just watch me? You keep saying you want to take care of me. Why won't you now?"
