"You can stop panicking, you're fine," Duncan said gripping the beam "Don't
move," he carefully slid around Richie. "Are you okay?" he asked picking
at the knots.
"Uh-huh," Richie said, although his tone suggested he was anything but.
"Are you scared of hights?" Duncan asked with a chuckle unwinding the ropes from around Richie's wrists.
"Only when there's a chance of plummeting to my doom," Richie shot back defensively.
"Don't move," Duncan said again sliding around to face Richie. "Well the sooner you let go, the sooner you'll be on solid ground."
Richie swallowed and looked back down, then up at Duncan. "Is now a good time to mention I don't exactly have the best sense of balance?"
"Then how did you get up here?"
"I didn't know I was 'up' anywhere until you said something."
Duncan smiled, he couldn't decide if Richie was more scared or more embarrassed because he was scared. "I guess I'll see you later." He turned around and began to make his way back to the catwalk that ran along the wall.
"You're just going to leave me here?" Richie took a cautious step forward.
"What am I supposed to do, carry you?"
"No, but. . . holy crap I'm gonna die." He looked down, but continued making small steps toward Duncan.
Duncan rolled his eyes, "You're not going to die."
"Easy for you to say, you have more than a foot of steel under your feet. I couldn't even do this on the curb when I was a kid, and forget the balance beam I was a lost cause when it came to that, I can't walk in a straight line no matter how sober I am," Richie rambled as he walked.
"If you're such a lost cause, how come you made it?"
Richie looked down at his feet standing securely on the catwalk. "Because I totally lucked out," he mumbled. "Can we go now?" He headed for the stairs.
"Well I wasn't planning on staying here." Duncan followed him down the stairs. He nearly ran into Richie, who had frozen at the bottom of the stairs and was staring at the headless body lying on the floor thirty feet away. "Richie. . ." he started.
"You know that's the second time you've done that since I've known you?" the boy said in a strangely casual voice.
"I need to explain a couple things to you."
"I'll say. . . I don't have to go past him to get out of here, do I?"
. . . . . .
"Mac! Would ya knock it off? I'm fine!"
"You're bleeding."
"Was bleeding," Richie corrected trying to pull his face out of Duncan's hand. Tessa entered the loft living room with some cotton balls and a bottle of disinfectant.
"If you would just sit still this would all be over a lot faster," she said handing Duncan a cotton ball.
"What did he do, hit you in the face with a two by four?" Duncan asked turning Richie's head to clean the large gash on his right cheek.
"Somfin' wik tha," Richie answered as best he could with Duncan's hand holding his jaw still. "Ouch!" he yelped when Duncan accidentally bumped his nose making fresh blood run down the dried tracks already there.
"Well, if you'd stop moving. . ." Duncan mumbled tilting Richie's head back and wiping at the blood.
"I didn't!" Richie insisted. He moved to take the cotton from Duncan only to have his hand slapped away. "Maa-aac!" he whined.
"Acting like a child is not going to help you any, just don't move."
"Do you have any idea how sick I am of hearing you say that?" Richie groaned in a nasal voice wincing as Duncan pinched his nose.
"About as tired as I am of saying it."
"Anything else hurt?" Tessa asked inspecting Richie face for any bumps or bruises they might have missed.
"Just my pride," Richie said with a wave of his hand.
"Look at your wrists!" she exclaimed grabbing his hand for a closer look. They were raw and pink, turning a strange shade of purple, with small scrapes all around.
"It's nothing, doesn't even hurt," he said looking at her out of the corner of his eye as Duncan still had a firm grip on his nose.
Acting on an instinct Tessa lifted Richie's arm and pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt back. She found a bruise forming across his bicep and running under his arm. She poked it lightly and made him jump.
"AGH!" he yelled as his jump slammed his nose into Duncan's hand. He leaned forward then leaned back as far as he could trying to keep the blood from spilling any further onto his shirt. "Just get the hell off me!" he barked pushing Duncan away as he leaned in to help. "You know it just figures that I'd make it this far in life just to bleed to death on your couch because you guys keep trying to make everything better!" He pinched his nose, which he now figured without a doubt was broken.
"Let me get some ice or that's going to swell," Tessa said getting up from the couch.
"It already has," Richie mumbled. Duncan reached over and placed his hand lightly on Richie's. Richie tried to push it away but Duncan insisted.
"Richie, let me look." He lifted the boy's hand and lightly touched his nose. "It's broken," he declared.
"I could have told you that," Richie snapped.
"Get up," Duncan patted his knee.
"Why?"
"We're going to the emergency room."
"Mac, no. I'm fine." Richie turned his head and looked directly at Duncan.
"You're nose is broken and you look like you've been shot you've got so much blood all over you."
"Mac. . ."
"Richard. . ." Duncan said in a sternly.
"Richard?" Richie repeated a mixture of surprise and annoyance in his voice. "You make it sound like I'm in trouble or something."
"You're about to be."
"Who do ya think ya are, my fuckin' dad or somethin'?" Richie demanded jumping to his feet. Duncan opened his mouth to reprimand his language but Richie interrupted him. "Sorry, sorry, just. . . I have a thing with hospitals and doctors and stuff. . . besides what am I going to tell them when they ask what happened? I ran into a door?"
"Tell them you got into a fight," Tessa suggested placing a towel of ice in Richie's hand.
"Really? And where's this guy I got into a fight with? What happened to him?"
"You lost," Duncan shrugged.
"Uh-huh," Richie said, although his tone suggested he was anything but.
"Are you scared of hights?" Duncan asked with a chuckle unwinding the ropes from around Richie's wrists.
"Only when there's a chance of plummeting to my doom," Richie shot back defensively.
"Don't move," Duncan said again sliding around to face Richie. "Well the sooner you let go, the sooner you'll be on solid ground."
Richie swallowed and looked back down, then up at Duncan. "Is now a good time to mention I don't exactly have the best sense of balance?"
"Then how did you get up here?"
"I didn't know I was 'up' anywhere until you said something."
Duncan smiled, he couldn't decide if Richie was more scared or more embarrassed because he was scared. "I guess I'll see you later." He turned around and began to make his way back to the catwalk that ran along the wall.
"You're just going to leave me here?" Richie took a cautious step forward.
"What am I supposed to do, carry you?"
"No, but. . . holy crap I'm gonna die." He looked down, but continued making small steps toward Duncan.
Duncan rolled his eyes, "You're not going to die."
"Easy for you to say, you have more than a foot of steel under your feet. I couldn't even do this on the curb when I was a kid, and forget the balance beam I was a lost cause when it came to that, I can't walk in a straight line no matter how sober I am," Richie rambled as he walked.
"If you're such a lost cause, how come you made it?"
Richie looked down at his feet standing securely on the catwalk. "Because I totally lucked out," he mumbled. "Can we go now?" He headed for the stairs.
"Well I wasn't planning on staying here." Duncan followed him down the stairs. He nearly ran into Richie, who had frozen at the bottom of the stairs and was staring at the headless body lying on the floor thirty feet away. "Richie. . ." he started.
"You know that's the second time you've done that since I've known you?" the boy said in a strangely casual voice.
"I need to explain a couple things to you."
"I'll say. . . I don't have to go past him to get out of here, do I?"
. . . . . .
"Mac! Would ya knock it off? I'm fine!"
"You're bleeding."
"Was bleeding," Richie corrected trying to pull his face out of Duncan's hand. Tessa entered the loft living room with some cotton balls and a bottle of disinfectant.
"If you would just sit still this would all be over a lot faster," she said handing Duncan a cotton ball.
"What did he do, hit you in the face with a two by four?" Duncan asked turning Richie's head to clean the large gash on his right cheek.
"Somfin' wik tha," Richie answered as best he could with Duncan's hand holding his jaw still. "Ouch!" he yelped when Duncan accidentally bumped his nose making fresh blood run down the dried tracks already there.
"Well, if you'd stop moving. . ." Duncan mumbled tilting Richie's head back and wiping at the blood.
"I didn't!" Richie insisted. He moved to take the cotton from Duncan only to have his hand slapped away. "Maa-aac!" he whined.
"Acting like a child is not going to help you any, just don't move."
"Do you have any idea how sick I am of hearing you say that?" Richie groaned in a nasal voice wincing as Duncan pinched his nose.
"About as tired as I am of saying it."
"Anything else hurt?" Tessa asked inspecting Richie face for any bumps or bruises they might have missed.
"Just my pride," Richie said with a wave of his hand.
"Look at your wrists!" she exclaimed grabbing his hand for a closer look. They were raw and pink, turning a strange shade of purple, with small scrapes all around.
"It's nothing, doesn't even hurt," he said looking at her out of the corner of his eye as Duncan still had a firm grip on his nose.
Acting on an instinct Tessa lifted Richie's arm and pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt back. She found a bruise forming across his bicep and running under his arm. She poked it lightly and made him jump.
"AGH!" he yelled as his jump slammed his nose into Duncan's hand. He leaned forward then leaned back as far as he could trying to keep the blood from spilling any further onto his shirt. "Just get the hell off me!" he barked pushing Duncan away as he leaned in to help. "You know it just figures that I'd make it this far in life just to bleed to death on your couch because you guys keep trying to make everything better!" He pinched his nose, which he now figured without a doubt was broken.
"Let me get some ice or that's going to swell," Tessa said getting up from the couch.
"It already has," Richie mumbled. Duncan reached over and placed his hand lightly on Richie's. Richie tried to push it away but Duncan insisted.
"Richie, let me look." He lifted the boy's hand and lightly touched his nose. "It's broken," he declared.
"I could have told you that," Richie snapped.
"Get up," Duncan patted his knee.
"Why?"
"We're going to the emergency room."
"Mac, no. I'm fine." Richie turned his head and looked directly at Duncan.
"You're nose is broken and you look like you've been shot you've got so much blood all over you."
"Mac. . ."
"Richard. . ." Duncan said in a sternly.
"Richard?" Richie repeated a mixture of surprise and annoyance in his voice. "You make it sound like I'm in trouble or something."
"You're about to be."
"Who do ya think ya are, my fuckin' dad or somethin'?" Richie demanded jumping to his feet. Duncan opened his mouth to reprimand his language but Richie interrupted him. "Sorry, sorry, just. . . I have a thing with hospitals and doctors and stuff. . . besides what am I going to tell them when they ask what happened? I ran into a door?"
"Tell them you got into a fight," Tessa suggested placing a towel of ice in Richie's hand.
"Really? And where's this guy I got into a fight with? What happened to him?"
"You lost," Duncan shrugged.
