Somehow Richie always managed to be the center of attention. When he came home he was hoping for everything to be normal, like it had every other time. This time, though, was very different: Tessa and Amanda were actually getting along, there were no off the wall story competitions with each immortal trying to out do or embarrass the others, people seemed to be going out of their way to treat him normally, which made it all the more obvious that things weren't normal. Just the fact that so many people were there wasn't normal. Usually there would just be one or two people besides Duncan, Tessa and Rylan home when he had a chance to visit. And Rylan wasn't there half the time because of school. But it seemed everyone Richie knew was there this time.

'Too many people!' Richie's head screamed at him as he settled in the living room with everyone else after dinner. 'Get away! Go somewhere! Disappear!' He wanted nothing more than to run away and hide somewhere nobody would find him. But seeing as he was attached in some strange un- understandable way to all but three people in the room with him, that didn't seem very possible. So he tried to content himself with ignoring what was going on around him, which isn't a very easy thing to do when you are the topic of conversation. 'Think of something else, anything else, just. . . something! I take this anymore!' his mind raced. 'Somebody's touching me, why is somebody touching me? WHO IS TOUCHING ME!' Richie shook his head and found himself being tugged to his feet by Rylan.

"Come on," she was saying.

"What?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Come on, we're going." She continued to pull and soon had him in the hallway.

'Yes! Freedom!' he cheered inside while he remained calm on the outside. "Where?"

"I don't know," she shrugged pulling her keys out of her pocket and handing them to him. "You just look like you need to be alone. So, I propose you drop me off at the park I'll hang out there for a while and you can go where-ever."

"Why so secretive, why don't I just leave?"

"It seemed like the natural thing that would happen. They would get wrapped up in one thing or another and we would go. And since you looked like you were about to scream in there, and I was bored out of my mind I decided to get both of us out."

"Okay," Richie conceded. "Just let me get a couple things."

"Got it covered." Rylan picked up a bag from the corner by the door. "Pens, your spiral, taperecorder, and a couple sodas. Did I miss anything?"

"How do you do that?" Richie asked taking the bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"That's what happens when you know someone for almost eighteen years," she explained with a smile opening the door. "Ladies first."

"Oh, I missed you sense of humor."

. . . . . .

Two hours later, Richie picked Rylan back up and by the time they returned to the house he felt he was ready to face to world again. But that didn't keep the feeling of relief from him when he went into the living room and found only Duncan and Tessa.

"There you are!" Tessa greeted him as he entered the living room. "How about a proper hello this time?"

Richie wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her into the air and spun around. "That better?" he asked putting her back down.

"Yes, now let me get a good look at you." She stepped back.

He held out his arms for inspection, "Haven't changed."

"Yes you have. There's something different. . ." She reached out and lightly squeezed his arm. "That's it. You've been working out, bulking up."

"Maybe a little. Mac has been working me pretty hard," he shrugged. "Some how I ended up with a personal trainer instead of a friend."

"It's for your own good." Duncan said taking a playful swig at him, which Richie easily blocked. "See? Faster reflexes already."

"I just got tired of you clocking me every time you thought I wasn't paying attention."

"Still, faster reflexes."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Mac."

. . . . . .

*Thursday July 2, 1998, the Abandoned Warehouse*

Richie desperately blocked one blow after another as Duncan forced him across the warehouse floor.

"Concentrate, Richie! Keep your sword up!"

"I am!"

Metal clashed against metal as their swords repeatedly met in a mock battle to the death.

"Attack me, vary your speeds, don't get into a rhythm."

"Well, maybe if you'd stop attacking me, I could try."

"An opponent isn't going to give you a chance, you have to make it for yourself. Keep your sword up!"

"Mac, you're killing me! I can't breath."

"Use it."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"

Duncan reached out and grabbed Richie around the wrist pulling them together.

"If you go up against somebody better than you, you have to use everything that happens to your advantage. Right now, you're getting angry and sloppy. I could have taken your head four times by now. Channel your anger, control it, don't let it control you." He pushed Richie away. "Now, attack me!"

"Mac, I gotta take a break." Richie panted.

"No." Duncan swung his katana over his head and lunged at him, forcing Richie to block the attack. They began fighting again. Richie let out a small yelp as he felt the blade of Duncan's katana rip into his shoulder. He immediately stopped and looked disbelievingly at the man who was supposed to be teaching him how not to get hurt.

"What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded.

"You left yourself open, you have to keep your sword up."

"You could have just told me."

"I did. Maybe this way you'll remember."