Richie opened his eyes and tried to remember where he was. 'Oh, yeah, the
hospital,' just like he had been for the past five days.
"Mornin' Sunshine!" a very chipper female voice greeted him.
"You still here?" Richie asked in mock annoyance looking over at Rylan, who was draped over the chair next to his bed.
"I went home, got bored, and came back. Brought you some stuff." She gestured to his bedside table.
He picked up the book, "Little Women?"
"Captive audience." She explained with a grin.
"Still not going to happen." He put the book back down.
"Oh, come on, Rich. It's good, you'll like it."
"No."
"Fine, here." She reached into her bag, and handed him two other books. "Your good friends Huck and Jim wanted to visit."
"Treasure Island? I've been looking for his. Where did you find it?"
"It's mine. That's your Huck Finn, though."
"Oh, cool. . . so how'd the talk go?" Richie asked. He knew Duncan was planning on explaining immortals to Rylan, 'She's going to find out sooner or later' he had told Richie. And Richie wanted to get Rylan's reaction.
"Turns out sex can get you pregnant." She smiled.
"Really? I'll have to remember that." He answered dryly. "You did talk to MacLeod, right?"
"Sort of, well, not really. I kind of got the coming attractions. Duncan's been a little preoccupied trying to track that guy down and, you know. . ." she held out her arm and pretended to threaten Richie with a sword. With a wicked grin he threw off the covers and knelt on his bed drawing his own invisible weapon.
"I am Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod," he imitated "and I'm here for your head."
Rylan shot up from her chair and met his gaze. They engaged in battle. Richie, who had had the benefit of watching Duncan, quickly gained the imaginary upper-head and plunged his 'sword' into her chest. She dramatically collapsed onto the foot of his bed.
"Stick around," she rasped "I'll be right back."
"Is this a bad time?" A grandmotherly voice asked. Rylan sat up and followed Richie's embarrassed gaze to the elderly nurse standing in the doorway.
"No," Richie answered after a second "just letting out some energy in the most mature way we could think of."
"Next time think of a less physical way, you are supposed to be resting." The nurse shooed Rylan off the bed. "And you are a bad influence." She scolded with a smile and wagged her finger at the girl. "I'm willing to bet that if I kicked you out, he'd do what he's told."
"Aw, come one, let her stay. I'll behave, I promise." To demonstrate his point, Richie settled back against the pillows and neatly folded his hands in his lap. "See? I promise."
"As long as you promise." She began checking Richie's vitals. "I must say, you are one amazing young man." She continued. "Not four days ago, we could barely get you to open your eyes, and now I can't keep you still."
"I got a lot of rest, so now I'm full of energy. And I get bored easily."
"Well, you don't have to stay in bed all day, but not so many big movements," she made a note on Richie's chart. "The last thing you need to do is pop your stitches."
"Ma'am, yes ma'am." Richie answered with a grin and a solute.
"I'm trusting you to keep him under control." The nurse said looking at Rylan over her glasses.
"I thought you said I was a bad influence." She grinned.
"I also said he was a man." The nurse whispered as she passed Rylan on her way to the door.
. . . . . .
Richie wondered down the hall peeking into rooms as he passed. He was bored and wanted somebody to talk to. Rylan was at school, Tessa was out to lunch with a friend, and he didn't particularly want to talk to Duncan, so he decided to find somebody. He stopped and looked into a room belonging to a very bored looking young boy. He read the name on the chart outside the room,
'Cole Graham, how very appropriate.' He thought, thinking back to the name the women had chosen for him that day at the bank.
"You mind if I join you?" He asked stepping into the doorway. The boy looked at him and shrugged. "So what are you in for?" Richie continued approaching the boy.
"My appendix exploded." He explained.
"It exploded?" Richie repeated. "Dang, that sounds pretty bad. What'd they do?"
"They took it out."
"Did you get to keep it?"
"No."
"That sucks, would've been a cool souvenir." The boy smiled. "The name's Richie." He continued extending his hand.
"I'm Cole." They shook hands.
"Nice to meet you, Cole."
"Why are you here?"
"You really want to know?" Richie asked with sly grin.
"I told you."
"True, you did." Richie held up his shirt to reveal the gauze wrapped around his abdomen. "I got stabbed, you can't see it, but it's right here." He traced where the wound was with his finger. "It's really cool though, it's all bloody and gross lookin'. Plus it's going to scar." He added, trying to figure out what had Cole so upset.
"I'm going to have a scar, too." Cole said sadly. 'Bingo.' Richie thought.
"You don't like scars?" Richie asked in exaggerated disbelief. "How else are you going to prove that your appendix exploded to all your friends?" Personally the idea of having yet another scar to add to his collection annoyed Richie. But, if it would cheer Cole up, "I like my scars. I think they're kind of cool."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah." Richie pulled up the leg of his sweat pants and put his foot on Cole's bed. "See that one?" He asked pointing to a small pink line on his shin. "I got that one when I crashed my bike."
"How'd you crash it?" Cole asked eyeing Richie's leg.
"I wasn't watching where I was going I guess. But I cut my leg on the kickstand. It got all green and pussy. It was nasty." Richie hoped that Cole was into the same thing he was when he was young.
"Really?" Cole asked gaining interest.
"Really. And I got this one," He turned over his arm and showed the scar on his wrist. "when I was working on a science project in fifth grade. Me and my friend made this volcano and it erupted before it was supposed to and burned me. That one got all blistery, then when the blisters popped, more puss."
"Cool." Cole grinned. "Is that one pussy?" He asked pointing to Richie's stomach.
"Not now, but you never know. How about you? You got any other scars?"
"No." The boy looked away, embarrassed.
"Well, you're only like, what ten?"
"Eight." Cole corrected.
"Even better, you still have plenty of time. It took me eighteen years to get all mine." Richie thought a second. "I guess it's a good thing I'm not immortal. No scars equals no stories."
"Immortal?" Cole repeated.
"Did I say immortal?" Richie asked in a hushed voice looking to the door. "Oops. Just forget I said anything, I'm not supposed to tell anyone."
"Tell anyone what?"
"About, you know" Richie glanced back toward the door. "immortals." He finished in a whisper.
"You can tell me, I won't tell anyone."
Richie looked at him. "You promise?"
"Uh-huh," Cole nodded in wide-eyed wonder. "Cross my heart and hope to die."
Richie got up and closed the door. "I guess I can trust you. But remember, this stays between you and me." He said sitting cross-legged on the foot of Cole's bed.
. . . . . .
"Only one? How many are there now?"
"Nobody knows, hundreds, maybe thousands." Richie answered, happy he had cheered Cole up. "But they're everywhere. You might have already met one and just don't know it."
"So what do they do?"
"The good ones, they have jobs, some have families, some travel hunting down the bad ones. There is this one. He's been all over the world and he's lived for over six thousand years."
"Six thousand?" Cole repeated in wonderment.
"Last I heard, he was right here in Washington. But nobody knows where. He just blends into the crowd. He's killed over three thousand bad immortals."
"Wow."
"And when he finds good immortals he teaches them all these super old sword techniques, that all the bad guys have long forgotten, so that the good guys can beat them."
"Does it work?"
"Hey, we haven't been enslaved yet, have we?"
"Mornin' Sunshine!" a very chipper female voice greeted him.
"You still here?" Richie asked in mock annoyance looking over at Rylan, who was draped over the chair next to his bed.
"I went home, got bored, and came back. Brought you some stuff." She gestured to his bedside table.
He picked up the book, "Little Women?"
"Captive audience." She explained with a grin.
"Still not going to happen." He put the book back down.
"Oh, come on, Rich. It's good, you'll like it."
"No."
"Fine, here." She reached into her bag, and handed him two other books. "Your good friends Huck and Jim wanted to visit."
"Treasure Island? I've been looking for his. Where did you find it?"
"It's mine. That's your Huck Finn, though."
"Oh, cool. . . so how'd the talk go?" Richie asked. He knew Duncan was planning on explaining immortals to Rylan, 'She's going to find out sooner or later' he had told Richie. And Richie wanted to get Rylan's reaction.
"Turns out sex can get you pregnant." She smiled.
"Really? I'll have to remember that." He answered dryly. "You did talk to MacLeod, right?"
"Sort of, well, not really. I kind of got the coming attractions. Duncan's been a little preoccupied trying to track that guy down and, you know. . ." she held out her arm and pretended to threaten Richie with a sword. With a wicked grin he threw off the covers and knelt on his bed drawing his own invisible weapon.
"I am Connor MacLeod of the clan MacLeod," he imitated "and I'm here for your head."
Rylan shot up from her chair and met his gaze. They engaged in battle. Richie, who had had the benefit of watching Duncan, quickly gained the imaginary upper-head and plunged his 'sword' into her chest. She dramatically collapsed onto the foot of his bed.
"Stick around," she rasped "I'll be right back."
"Is this a bad time?" A grandmotherly voice asked. Rylan sat up and followed Richie's embarrassed gaze to the elderly nurse standing in the doorway.
"No," Richie answered after a second "just letting out some energy in the most mature way we could think of."
"Next time think of a less physical way, you are supposed to be resting." The nurse shooed Rylan off the bed. "And you are a bad influence." She scolded with a smile and wagged her finger at the girl. "I'm willing to bet that if I kicked you out, he'd do what he's told."
"Aw, come one, let her stay. I'll behave, I promise." To demonstrate his point, Richie settled back against the pillows and neatly folded his hands in his lap. "See? I promise."
"As long as you promise." She began checking Richie's vitals. "I must say, you are one amazing young man." She continued. "Not four days ago, we could barely get you to open your eyes, and now I can't keep you still."
"I got a lot of rest, so now I'm full of energy. And I get bored easily."
"Well, you don't have to stay in bed all day, but not so many big movements," she made a note on Richie's chart. "The last thing you need to do is pop your stitches."
"Ma'am, yes ma'am." Richie answered with a grin and a solute.
"I'm trusting you to keep him under control." The nurse said looking at Rylan over her glasses.
"I thought you said I was a bad influence." She grinned.
"I also said he was a man." The nurse whispered as she passed Rylan on her way to the door.
. . . . . .
Richie wondered down the hall peeking into rooms as he passed. He was bored and wanted somebody to talk to. Rylan was at school, Tessa was out to lunch with a friend, and he didn't particularly want to talk to Duncan, so he decided to find somebody. He stopped and looked into a room belonging to a very bored looking young boy. He read the name on the chart outside the room,
'Cole Graham, how very appropriate.' He thought, thinking back to the name the women had chosen for him that day at the bank.
"You mind if I join you?" He asked stepping into the doorway. The boy looked at him and shrugged. "So what are you in for?" Richie continued approaching the boy.
"My appendix exploded." He explained.
"It exploded?" Richie repeated. "Dang, that sounds pretty bad. What'd they do?"
"They took it out."
"Did you get to keep it?"
"No."
"That sucks, would've been a cool souvenir." The boy smiled. "The name's Richie." He continued extending his hand.
"I'm Cole." They shook hands.
"Nice to meet you, Cole."
"Why are you here?"
"You really want to know?" Richie asked with sly grin.
"I told you."
"True, you did." Richie held up his shirt to reveal the gauze wrapped around his abdomen. "I got stabbed, you can't see it, but it's right here." He traced where the wound was with his finger. "It's really cool though, it's all bloody and gross lookin'. Plus it's going to scar." He added, trying to figure out what had Cole so upset.
"I'm going to have a scar, too." Cole said sadly. 'Bingo.' Richie thought.
"You don't like scars?" Richie asked in exaggerated disbelief. "How else are you going to prove that your appendix exploded to all your friends?" Personally the idea of having yet another scar to add to his collection annoyed Richie. But, if it would cheer Cole up, "I like my scars. I think they're kind of cool."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, yeah." Richie pulled up the leg of his sweat pants and put his foot on Cole's bed. "See that one?" He asked pointing to a small pink line on his shin. "I got that one when I crashed my bike."
"How'd you crash it?" Cole asked eyeing Richie's leg.
"I wasn't watching where I was going I guess. But I cut my leg on the kickstand. It got all green and pussy. It was nasty." Richie hoped that Cole was into the same thing he was when he was young.
"Really?" Cole asked gaining interest.
"Really. And I got this one," He turned over his arm and showed the scar on his wrist. "when I was working on a science project in fifth grade. Me and my friend made this volcano and it erupted before it was supposed to and burned me. That one got all blistery, then when the blisters popped, more puss."
"Cool." Cole grinned. "Is that one pussy?" He asked pointing to Richie's stomach.
"Not now, but you never know. How about you? You got any other scars?"
"No." The boy looked away, embarrassed.
"Well, you're only like, what ten?"
"Eight." Cole corrected.
"Even better, you still have plenty of time. It took me eighteen years to get all mine." Richie thought a second. "I guess it's a good thing I'm not immortal. No scars equals no stories."
"Immortal?" Cole repeated.
"Did I say immortal?" Richie asked in a hushed voice looking to the door. "Oops. Just forget I said anything, I'm not supposed to tell anyone."
"Tell anyone what?"
"About, you know" Richie glanced back toward the door. "immortals." He finished in a whisper.
"You can tell me, I won't tell anyone."
Richie looked at him. "You promise?"
"Uh-huh," Cole nodded in wide-eyed wonder. "Cross my heart and hope to die."
Richie got up and closed the door. "I guess I can trust you. But remember, this stays between you and me." He said sitting cross-legged on the foot of Cole's bed.
. . . . . .
"Only one? How many are there now?"
"Nobody knows, hundreds, maybe thousands." Richie answered, happy he had cheered Cole up. "But they're everywhere. You might have already met one and just don't know it."
"So what do they do?"
"The good ones, they have jobs, some have families, some travel hunting down the bad ones. There is this one. He's been all over the world and he's lived for over six thousand years."
"Six thousand?" Cole repeated in wonderment.
"Last I heard, he was right here in Washington. But nobody knows where. He just blends into the crowd. He's killed over three thousand bad immortals."
"Wow."
"And when he finds good immortals he teaches them all these super old sword techniques, that all the bad guys have long forgotten, so that the good guys can beat them."
"Does it work?"
"Hey, we haven't been enslaved yet, have we?"