AN: okay, so I lied, I said this was a two part story. . . well, it's
looking like three parts now. Thanks for all the reviews! By the way,
MP- I am most hurt that you think you MIGHT be warming up to Richie. . .
what's up with that? Richie is the best! (rant rant rant!)
Blackblade: Original Richie, Old Richie, New Richie. Only one will
survive. . . the others shall be voted out of Seacouver!
Duncan and Richie made the decision to sell the Antique shop and the loft. It had only taken three weeks to find a buyer. That gave Duncan enough time to buy a dojo across town, but they were still looking for a house. They were staying in the loft above the dojo until they found a new place. Richie still wasn't eating much, and because of that he couldn't do the one thing he wanted to do most, work out.
"I'm telling you, Mac, I can handle it," Richie insisted as Duncan led him to the dojo office.
"And I'm telling you, Richie, you still don't eat enough yet. If you start working out you're going to have to eat more." Duncan closed the office door. "You can barely manage what I put in front of you, so you can't afford to burn any extra calories."
"Mac, c'on, can't I at least try? If I start to feel funny I'll stop, I promise."
Duncan thought for a moment. "I'll tell you what. You can start working out a little, and I stress 'little', after you gain five more pounds."
"Five more pounds! Mac, that'll take me forever!"
"Not before," Duncan insisted.
Richie had managed to gain about a pound or so a week. It had been nearly a month since they had left the cabin and he still looked rather pathetic. It didn't help that they had suffered a bit of a set back when they got back to Seacouver. Going from where he and Tessa had never been together before to somewhere they had spent a year together did a number on Richie's eating habits. He started hiding food again, pretending to eat, and Duncan had caught him purging. "One hour after every meal and the door stays open," was all Duncan had said when he caught him. Richie knew what that really meant, all the 'privileges' he had work so hard to get back, were gone. His own private lock down was once again in effect.
They began their three times a day fighting ritual. Food was still not high on Richie's list of things he wanted. Duncan was pretty good at keeping his temper and only lost it once. Oddly enough, it seemed being screamed at was exactly what Richie needed to put him back on track. His fear of getting in trouble kicked in and he hurried to do as he was told.
Slowly the fear faded away and he started exploring his boundaries, exactly like Sean told Duncan he would. First he would disappear only to end up being upstairs or downstairs when everyone thought he was in the other. His big rebellion was not telling Duncan where he was. A minor detail to most, but Richie was becoming increasingly annoyed by his mindless obedience. So he started small. He started to refuse to eat one thing in favor of making something else, or would wait a couple minutes before doing something that was asked of him. He still ultimately did what he was supposed to, but he was doing it on his terms. That was better than blindly following orders.
Richie started eating more, trying to gain weight but for some reason his body refused to weigh much more than it's frail 167 pounds. Richie didn't think that he was that skinny, but once he found out how much he was supposed to way (at 5'10" he needed to weigh least 185) he decided that he was indeed too skinny. Then when he started hanging around the dojo some of the really big guys started picking on him. It was all good-natured, they didn't know he had an eating disorder, but it still got on his nerves. Duncan heard Richie muttering something that sounded like, 'If that guy calls me a runt one more time. . .' a couple times as he forced himself to take another bite of dinner.
Finally they discovered Richie's weight problem. His body was taking the nutrients it was being given to start a late growth spurt. Slowly but surely his pants were becoming shorter. By focusing on growing his body used up more calories than he took in so he actually lost a couple pounds at one point. When he discovered this he threw a fit. He had to go out and buy new jeans that were two inches smaller in the waist and two inches longer in the inseam. He was convinced he would need another pair soon, he was going to gain the weight. He tried his best to gain his mandatory five pounds so he could start working out. But because of the growth spurt Sean suggested to Duncan that they raise it to ten pounds during one of their weekly phone calls. Richie finally gained the weight; it took him four weeks.
"Mac, you promised," Richie begged when Duncan told him he still couldn't work out. "I gained the weight. You said I could after I gained ten pounds."
"You still look too small to start working out," Duncan said shaking his head. "Plus some of that weight is because you're taller now, not all of it is fat like I was hoping for."
"But some of it is. One inch can't add more than five pounds, which means I gained the original five that you told me. And if you let me start working out I won't look so small." Richie's new height and stint with anorexia left him looking long and lanky, like a fresh out of the beginnings of puberty fifteen year old boy.
"I'm not sure about this, Richie."
"Come on, Mac. Just a little. I won't do too much, and if I start to feel funny I'll stop. Please?"
Duncan looked at Richie critically. Richie tilted his chin down slightly and looked up at Duncan with big, innocent, pleading, puppy dog eyes. He slowly pouted his lips slightly and blinked a couple times. Duncan was very familiar with this look. This was the same expression he had used many times when asking to barrow the T-bird to take a girl out, the same expression he had used to get out of trouble when he broke a quarter of a million dollar Chinese vase, the expression that had never been said 'no' to in over nineteen years, the expression that nobody was immune to. . . even Duncan. The expression that always got him what he wanted.
Duncan sighed. "The second you don't feel right you stop, you hear me?"
Richie grinned. "Okay," he chirped.
"And start small. No more than eight-pound free weights until I say different."
"Gotcha, Mac." Richie almost skipped to the stairs.
"No sparing."
" 'Kay, Mac."
"Don't push yourself."
"I won't."
"And don't let me catch you doing something you're not supposed to."
"You won't."
"I'm going to tell Sean about this. If he says this is a bad idea, deal's off!" He called as Richie disappeared down the stairwell. A faint 'Whatever' drifted through the door just before it closed.
. . . . . .
Richie sat on the bench happily lifting his eight-pound weights and watching Duncan go through a kata in the middle of the dojo floor. Richie had started working out before the dojo opened or after it closed. The first time he had done it while there were people there the same guy that called him 'squirt' and 'runt' started picking on him because of his small weights. So he just avoided working out in the dojo when it was open. He never admitted it to Duncan but he had started with five-pound weights because eight had been too heavy. Richie finished his last rep and stared at Duncan in growing curiosity. 'I could do that,' he thought as Duncan gracefully twirled the quarterstaff in a fluid almost dance. Duncan saw Richie's open gawking out of the corner of his eye and smiled slightly. He turned away and Richie got up to stand in front of him to get a better view of what he was doing.
"You want to try?" Duncan asked stopping and facing Richie.
Richie looked around himself. "Me?"
"Yeah, unless there's some other kid gawking at me that I haven't noticed. And if that's the case he can go first if you don't want to."
Richie smirked. "Nah, if he wants to gawk he can come out in the open. But since I seem to be the only one brave enough. . . I'll give it a shot."
"Okay, here." Duncan handed him the staff and showed him how to hold it. Once Richie had gotten the hang of the basics Duncan got another staff and showed him a beginning kata. "Yeah, that's it. Take your time. Get used to the rhythm. Feel the balance." Soon Duncan had Richie mimicking his every move. He had gotten so used to Richie moving with him it took a second for him to notice that Richie had stopped. "You okay?" he asked noticing Richie's strange expression.
"I'm fine," Richie answered. "I just think I should stop. That stuffs more of a work out than it looks." He was panting slightly.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I just think I should stop."
"Okay. We'll stop."
"You can keep going. I'm just gonna get something to drink."
"Have you not eaten enough today?" Duncan asked.
Richie looked at Duncan then at the floor. "Maybe."
"Maybe you ate enough or maybe you didn't?"
Richie swallowed. "Maybe I didn't."
Duncan set his jaw. He had begun to ease off of Richie about his eating, apparently he had started too soon. "Okay, let's get you something to eat," he said evenly. Richie just nodded and started toward the stairs. "Not so fast." Duncan's tone stopped him in his tracks. "You want to take the stairs you eat like you said you would. Take the elevator." Richie nodded again and went to the elevator. Taking the stairs had been Richie's sneaky way of exercising when he wasn't supposed to. Duncan had quickly caught onto his game but Sean said to let him. Now it was a quick and easy punishment to make Richie take the elevator.
Duncan watched Richie pull apart the slice of pizza in front of him as he sat at the island. "What have you eaten today?" he asked. Richie shrugged and didn't look up. "You can't remember?" Richie shrugged again. "Have you eaten anything?"
"I had some yogurt."
"How much?"
"What I didn't eat yesterday."
"All of what you didn't eat yesterday?"
"Most of it," he answered after a slight pause.
"What else?" Richie didn't answer. "Anything else? That's all you had isn't it?" Richie still didn't respond. "Richie," Duncan started slowly. "How can I get this through to you? I know you don't want to, but you have to eat. More than just almost half a cup of yogurt. That's not enough. Especially with what you were just doing downstairs."
"I know," Richie responded quietly chewing on a piece of pepperoni.
"You obviously don't. I'm trying to make this as easy on you as I can. But you have to work with me, here. Either you start making the right decisions or I'm going to have to do it for you. . . again."
"Fine," Richie groaned.
"Fine what?"
"Just fine."
"Richie, what are you trying to say?"
"Nothing! Would ya just leave me alone?" Richie asked.
"No. I tried that. I left you alone and you didn't eat. I leave you alone, and the next think I know you're purging in the bathroom."
"Hey! That was a month ago!"
"I leave you alone, and just dig yourself deeper. I take away the shovel you find new things to dig with. What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know! Mac, I just. . . I don't know."
"Tomorrow you call Sean tell him what's going on and work out a solution."
"Mac. . ."
"What? Richie, we don't have much of a choice. It's Sean or somebody else. You can go to somebody else if I'm not part of the problem. If I am, as far as I know Sean's our only choice."
"Fine," Richie began to slide off the stool he was sitting on leaving the pizza barely picked at.
"Don't even think about it," Duncan sneered. "You finish that, and this." He put an apple beside the plate. "Tomorrow, you stay up here. No working out, period. No stairs. No push-ups when you think I'm not looking. Nothing. You just concentrate on eating."
Richie's jaw dropped. "Mac, that's not fair!"
"Don't give me that. Do you think it's fair what you're doing to your body? You are royally screwing yourself up, you know that?"
"But, Mac!"
"No! You stay up here and no working out until I say otherwise, you hear me?"
Richie looked at him in disbelief. "Are you grounding me?"
Duncan glared back running the words through his head. "Yeah, you're grounded."
"What?"
"You heard me, you're grounded."
"Aw, Mac, come on! You've got to be kidding me!"
"Nope, you're grounded."
"Would ya stop sayin' that?"
"Why? You gave me the idea."
"Man, I have got to learn to keep my mouth shut." Richie slammed his fist down on the counter.
"You do that, you can't eat, then you'd just be grounded longer."
"Mac!" Richie's voice squeaked.
"You do drink don't you?" Duncan asked suddenly.
"What?"
"You drink, you know water, milk, juice. . . you don't not drink, right?"
"Yeah, I drink."
"How much?"
"I don't know, I don't measure it out."
"Do you drink enough?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sure?"
"Holy crap, Mac. Are you really that paranoid?"
"You tend to find ways to neglect you health, first you ate too much junk food and drank too many sodas, then you didn't eat at all, now you only eat when I force you to. If I can't trust you to eat, how can I trust you to do anything else?"
"I piss don't I?" Richie asked dryly.
"Supposedly."
"Man, you are insane!"
"Me? Have you not been listening to our conversation? Where has your brain been hiding the past three months? I'm not the insane one!" Richie stared up at him and clenched his jaw. 'Oh, great, now look what you've done,' Duncan groaned inwardly. "Richie, that came out wrong. That's not what I meant."
"I think you said it perfectly. I understood what you meant," Richie said curtly turning his attention back to the now cold pizza on his plate.
"Richie, don't. Come on, you know I didn't mean that," Duncan said gently knowing the damage had already been done.
"Whatever you say, Mac. Apparently I don't pay much attention to anything anyway. I'll be sure to work on that while I'm grounded." He tore off the crust and began to nibble at it.
"Richie. . ." Duncan started. Richie dropped his food and glared up at him. "Let me guess, just leave you alone, right?"
"Only if you really want to. I mean, if you don't trust me and all. Maybe you should feed me yourself. That way I there's no way I can't eat," Richie replied smugly.
"I'll just leave you alone, then." Duncan went over and sat on the couch and picked up his book.
Richie turned back to his plate and began to pick at it. It was cold. He didn't like cold pizza. "Don't freak, I'm just heating this up," he said as he slid off the stool. While he waited for the microwave to finish its job he grabbed a paring knife out of the drawer to cut the apple with. Nobody had ever told him he couldn't use knives but he knew he wasn't supposed to, but technically he wasn't supposed to be in the kitchen alone, so as long as he was breaking rules. . . 'Okay, so Mac's only ten feet way and there is no wall dividing the kitchen from the living room, but still technically I am the only one in the kitchen.' "I'm not allowed to be in the kitchen because there are too many thing I could hurt myself with," Richie mimicked under his breath taking the pizza out of the microwave.
Duncan heard him, but didn't say anything. He decided to let Richie vent. As he watched Richie eat he began to wonder if he had been too hard on him. It was hard to decide what was okay and what was too extreme when it came to punishing Richie, now. There weren't that many things Richie did of his own free will. Most of what he did he was told to do. So when Duncan took away the one thing he really enjoyed doing; his whole world crashed down on him. He had worked so hard to gain the weight, even when his body had started to conspire against him he kept working. All he wanted to do was lift some weights and get his muscle back. He had finally been allowed to, only to have the privilege taken away less than a week later. But the original reason he couldn't work out was he didn't eat enough, so if he wasn't eating he couldn't work out.
They had been getting along so well downstairs, and then Richie felt the affects of not eating enough. The boy had enough sense about him to stop, but maybe it was just because he had promised he would so many times. Duncan noticed Richie had finished the pizza and was now staring at the knife on the counter. Duncan watched and waited to see what Richie would do next.
Slowly Richie picked up the knife. He wasn't sure what to do with it. He wanted to cut the apple so it would be easier to eat, but the knife felt awkward in his hand. He wondered if Duncan was watching him. He had gotten so use to the feeling of being watched he couldn't tell if the feeling was there anymore. And if Duncan was watching him what was he thinking? Richie glanced over his shoulder and saw Duncan openly staring at him.
"Is this okay?" he asked indicating the knife.
"Yeah, it's fine."
Richie nodded slightly, his new response when he didn't know what to say, and set to the task of cutting and eating the apple. When he was done he put his dishes away, walked past Duncan without saying a word, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. He left the door completely open and stripped in the corner, he didn't care anymore.
. . . . . .
When Richie woke up the next morning Duncan had already gone downstairs. There was oatmeal simmering on the stove and a banana sitting on the counter, strategically placed where he couldn't miss it. Sighing heavily, he began to rummage through the cabinets and found some raisins and the cinnamon.
"I hate oatmeal," he grumbled to himself spooning some out of the pot and into a bowl. He dumped in the cinnamon and raisins and wished he was allowed to eat sugar, but he wasn't. "Stupid rules."
He set about the horrible task of eating. Forty-five minutes and three trips to the microwave later he finished. He washed the dishes and started looking for something else to do. There wasn't a lot around. Most of his stuff was in storage waiting to be moved into the new house they were still looking for. Sighing again he put on his headphones and settled down on the couch with one of Duncan's Grisham novels. It was 10:30; it was going to be a long day.
Two hours later Duncan came upstairs and Richie was still sitting on the couch reading. Richie noticed Duncan out of the corner of his eye but didn't look up. Duncan ignored him as well as he began to put together some sandwiches for lunch. He peeled an orange and put half on one plate while eating the other half as he worked.
"Hey, Rich, lunch," he said putting a plate on the coffee table in front of the boy.
Richie didn't look up or even turn down his music. "I'll get to it. I'm still kinda full."
Duncan pulled the headphones off Richie's ears. "Now."
"Fine." Richie picked up a piece of orange and started eating it.
Later that evening the elevator started up again and Richie prepared to fight, he didn't want to eat. He stayed where he was on the couch folded his arms and glared waiting Duncan.
"Hey, Richie," a different voice greeted.
"Joe?"
"How'd you like for Mac to get out of your hair for the evening?"
"About as much as I'd like for Mac to get out of my hair period," Richie answered not missing a beat.
Joe laughed and made himself comfortable on the couch next to Richie. "I felt the same way about my old man when I was your age."
"Mac's not my old man. He's an old man who won't leave me the hell alone," Richie retorted.
"And what does that make me?"
"Joe, I don't know how old you are, but I'm pretty sure Mac's a little older."
Joe nodded. "Point taken. So, what do you want to do tonight?" he asked looking around the loft at the two beds and single dresser behind the couch and the small kitchen they were facing.
"You hanging around?"
"Yeah, I figured you two could use some time apart. So I convinced Mac to go out if I - - "
"No, wait don't tell me," Richie interrupted. "Let me see if I can guess. I'm nineteen, I'm grounded, and now I have a babysitter?" Joe nodded slightly. Richie let out a choked laugh. "Aw, damn it!"
"Sorry, Rich. But that pretty much sums it up."
"This is ridiculous! He left me alone all day, what makes now any different?"
"Sorry, you're stuck. But we can handle this one of two ways: Mac's way or my way."
Richie looked up at him having already slouched into an annoyed pout. "Is there a difference?"
"Yes. You can follow Mac's rules, or. . ."
"Or what?"
"The way I see it, I'm in charge," Joe started.
Richie rolled his eyes, "Aw, man."
"So," Joe continued. "If I tell you we're going out tonight, you have to do what I tell you." A mischievous light lit in Joe's eyes. "If I tell you to drink the milkshake, you have to."
Richie looked at him trying to decide if his offer was a trick or not. "I'm not allowed to," he said softly.
"What if I flat out ordered you to drink it?" Joe asked with a grin.
Slowly Richie returned the look as he realized it was not a trick. "Then I guess I'd have to do it. I mean, if you ordered me to drink a double chocolate milkshake, there's nothing I can do about it, seeing as you're in charge and all."
"My point exactly. So, you hungry?"
"Not really," Richie shook his head.
"Let's see if we can do anything about that."
. . . . . .
"You did what?" Richie laughed taking another bite of his bacon cheeseburger (if he was going to break the rules he was going to go all out).
"I was drunk," Joe reminded him, laughing at the memory. "I didn't know what I was going."
"That's no excuse, man. That's horrible."
Joe marveled at his ability to get Duncan off of Richie's mind, even if it would probably only last a couple minutes. "I was young and stupid."
"You were my age, so are you saying. . ."
"You're young and stupid? Yes."
Richie grinned. "Jerk," he said through a mouth full of meat and cheese.
"Every man is young and stupid until they're at least forty," Joe told him matter of factly.
"So what's Mac's excuse?" Richie asked as he began to pick apart what was left of his burger, eventually eating the bacon.
"He's just worried about you." Joe watched as Richie started eating the bun leaving the meat on the plate.
"He's just overbearing and overprotective," Richie said.
"He's doing what he can."
"He's being a pain." Richie began pulling off small chunks of meat to eat.
"He's being a friend."
"Pain," Richie insisted.
"I know it's cliché, but you'll thank him when you work through all this and can go back to your normal life."
Richie began munching on his fries. "You're right, it is cliché. And even if it is true, it's still annoying now."
"Just focus on the big picture and it won't be so bad," Joe assured him.
"I'd rather focus on the details and complain."
"If you look at the big picture, the details won't bother you."
"You'd be surprised," Richie told him.
"So would you." Joe indicated Richie's nearly empty plate.
Richie looked down then back up with a confused grin. "I did that?"
"Yup," Joe nodded. "You were looking at the big picture, the event, not the details, the food."
"Huh," Richie grunted thoughtfully. "So, about this milkshake. . ."
. . . . . .
"Richie?" Duncan called glancing around the empty loft. He noticed the answering machine light blinking. He pushed the play button.
"Hey, Mac," Richie's voice tentatively greeted him. "Um, I'm at Joe's. . . his bar. Uh, I just thought you'd want to know. Um, I'll be back later, I guess. So, uh. . . okay, that's it. Um, bye."
Duncan turned and left the loft muttering to himself.
The answering machine beeped and a new message started. "Mac, its Joe. Don't be mad at Richie. I had to practically drag him out. I take full responsibility. I just thought that. . . I'm not going to explain this to an answering machine. Give me a call if you get this before Richie and I get back."
. . . . . .
"Richie!" Duncan barked throwing open the bar door. He scanned the thinning crowd and didn't see him. "Where is he?" he demanded of the bartender.
"Gangly, blonde, paranoid?" the bartender asked. Duncan nodded. "Office."
Richie and Joe jumped as Duncan slammed the office door open.
"One night!" he yelled slamming the door shut again. "One damn night!"
"Mac, just chill a sec, would ya? I can explain," Richie rushed out.
"No! Don't you ever listen? It's not complicated, you're grounded. Do you know what that means?"
"Mac! Would ya just- - "
"Do you?"
Richie jumped as Duncan firmly gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in trapping him. "Yes," he answered quickly.
Joe cleared his throat. "MacLeod, can I talk to you?"
"In a minute," Duncan snapped turning his attention back to Richie, who quickly averted his gaze to his lap. "Didn't I tell you to stay in the loft?"
"Yes," Richie answered softly shrinking back into the chair.
"And you still left?"
"Well, yeah, but. . ." Richie stammered.
"Not only did you leave, you end up in a bar? You're nineteen you're too young!"
"But, Mac. . ." Richie tried to explain looking up. Duncan's hard glare made him forget what he was going to say.
"No buts. Go wait in the car," Duncan ordered standing up clearing a path for Richie to leave.
"Mac," Richie tried on last time.
"Go!" Duncan pointed to the door.
Richie stood up. "I told you he'd freak," he told Joe.
"Richie," Duncan warned. Richie swallowed, grabbed his jacket off the chair, and left.
"MacLeod," Joe said sternly. "Calm down."
"All you had to do was make sure he ate, Joe," Duncan said.
"And I did. All he needed was a change of scenery and a distraction," Joe explained calmly.
"All he needed was to eat. And he's grounded, last I checked that meant he couldn't leave the house," Duncan shot back.
"You being so strict with him his half the problem, you know."
"What?"
"How can you treat him like that? He's a kid with a few problems, not a convict. You come barging in here demanding explanations, scaring him half to death, yelling, not letting him get three words in."
"Joe! You don't know what all he's been doing," Duncan insisted.
"Yes, I do," Joe said. "He told me everything. Once you get him talking it's hard to get him to stop."
"So how can you sit there and tell me I should just leave him alone and see what happens?"
"That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying you should give him a little room to make some mistakes. You standing over him all the time is doing the opposite of what you want. It's making it harder for him to take responsibility for his own actions. Not that much of what he does is his idea, from what I hear." Duncan didn't respond. "And the only reason he went with me was because I promised I would take full responsibility. And even then he spent half the night worrying you were going to jump to conclusions and blow it all out of proportion like this."
"Blow it out of. . . blow it out. . . He knew he was grounded, he knew he couldn't leave, and he did anyway. He deliberately disobeyed me."
"I knew he was grounded, too. And I think he's too old for that."
"It's not your decision. And I think I know Richie a little better than you do."
"He's scared to death of you, did you know that?" Joe snapped, Duncan's behavior was getting on his nerves.
"What are you talking about?"
"Never noticed, huh?"
"Noticed what?"
"The way he acts around you. He can't decide if he's supposed to stand up to you or just sit there and let you ream him out. You didn't notice the way he started cowering the second you burst in here yelling like you did? He doesn't usually stutter like that, Mac," Joe pointed out.
"It's just because he knows he's in trouble," Duncan said.
"It's because he's scared of you," Joe insisted. "The Richie I spent tonight with, isn't the Richie that just left. He's totally different when he's around you. And this whole bipolar act you've got going on can't be helping. I think my favorite story was how you taught him to use the quarterstaff and ten minutes later grounded him because he wasn't hungry."
"He wasn't eating!"
"That day. Did he eat the day before? Do you eat the same amount of food everyday? I think next time you and Sean talk maybe you should try to work out whatever it is that's bothering you so much. Because all you're stubbornness is doing is hurting Richie." Joe and Duncan glared at each other. "You have some issues that you haven't worked through yet. You know I'm right."
"Joe, we'll finish this later," Duncan said turning on his heal and leaving.
The ride home was completely silent. Duncan was still angry, not so much at Richie anymore as much as at Joe. Who was he to tell Duncan how to handle Richie? Duncan doubted Richie told Joe everything; he probably gave him a few choice highlights making Duncan out to be the bad guy.
Richie sat quietly, head bowed, staring at his feet. Joe's plan to keep him out of trouble had backfired, just like Richie said it would. The plan also had an unseen side-effect: Richie had gotten a taste of what it was like flat out breaking the rules again, and he missed it. He had never been much of one for following the rules before the shooting, he had gotten into trouble plenty of times before, getting yelled at by Duncan was nothing new to him. . . but it never felt this bad before. As much as he wanted to, Richie doubted he would have the courage to openly defy Duncan again.
When they got to the dojo Richie silently trailed a few paces behind Duncan. He kept his head bowed and only nodded in response when Duncan suggested Richie shower first. When he finished in the bathroom he went straight to bed without a word.
Duncan showered and sat on the edge of his bed thinking. Joe's words ran through his mind. 'He's scared to death of you'. He got up and walked to where Richie was sleeping. He was curled into a tight ball with his arms wrapped around his pillow. Duncan lightly touched his shoulder.
"Night, Rich."
The boy made a soft pouting noise and tried to pull alway. Usually hearing Duncan's voice made Richie relax and stretch out, not curl up tighter.
"Joe's right," Duncan realized. "You are scared of me, aren't you?"
. . . . . .
The next morning Duncan put on his best non-angry face as Richie shuffled across the loft to the kitchen.
"Morning, Richie," he greeted casually. Richie sleepily mumbled something in response as he settled into the stool at the island. "So, what did you two do last night?" Duncan asked carefully, but not carefully enough Richie's defenses immediately went up. "I was just wondering."
Richie sat quietly for a minute. "We went to dinner," he said softly, not particularly prepared to be yelled at this early in the morning.
"Where did you go?" Duncan asked, trying to ease the boy's apprehension.
"McCord's," he shrugged.
"Ah, an old favorite. What did you get?"
"Burger," Richie answered suddenly becoming very interested in the counter top.
"What kind?" Duncan groaned inwardly.
"Bacon cheeseburger."
Luckily Richie's head was still bowed so he didn't see Duncan's frown. Knowing Richie there was more on that burger than just bacon, cheese, and meat. He seemed to add on any condiment that anybody had ever suggested putting on a burger, the fattier the better. Duncan didn't like Richie eating that way before, but now it was completely out of the question. . . and Richie knew that.
"What else?" Duncan asked keeping his tone even.
"Fries. . . and a milkshake." Richie looked up this time and saw Duncan's face as he mentally added the milkshake to Richie's growing list of offenses. "I know, I'm not supposed to do that, but I ate everything else, and I don't know. . . I just figured if I was going to get in trouble, I might as well do something to deserve it," he explained looking back down.
Duncan took a deep breath. "Richie, do I need to explain why you can't eat everything you ate last night?"
"No, I know why." Richie looked back up. "But for the first time, something actually sounded good. I wanted to eat all that. And I did. And the entire time I could hear you yelling at me, but I didn't care. I was doing something I wanted to do because I wanted to do it. I didn't have to check with anybody first, I just did it. For a couple hours I felt normal again."
"Richie, I understand that. And I don't entirely blame you for what you did. But you're not normal, you're anorexic. You're working on it, but it will be awhile before you can eat that stuff again. And even then, you can't eat that much of it. You've done some serious damage to your body, and it can't process all that fat you ate last night. And the sugar is just empty calories, if you're going to eat something you need to eat something with some nutritional value, especially at the rate you've been growing."
"But I was eating," Richie pointed out. "I actually ate it all."
"You ate it all?" Duncan repeated.
"Well, not all. I didn't finish the shake, I got full."
"How'd Joe get you to do it?"
"I don't know, one minute we were talking and the next I had eaten everything," Richie shrugged. "I was just as surprised as you are, man."
"Richie, that's great!" Duncan exclaimed. "Granted, I wish you had picked something a little healthier than a bacon cheeseburger, but still."
Richie blushed and looked down, embarrassed. Slowly he looked back up. "So, does this mean I can start working out again?" he asked with a sly grin.
Duncan grinned back. "Nope, you're still grounded."
"But, I ate," Richie protested.
"Yeah, after you snuck out."
"But, Joe said. . ."
"You didn't have to go along with him," Duncan pointed out. "You could have said no."
Richie rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. How long?"
"A week."
"A week?" Richie repeated in shock.
"Two?"
"Two!"
"Three?" Duncan offered.
"Mac!"
"You keep fighting me on this you'll end up grounded for the next five years."
"Is it too late to go back one?" Richie asked hopefully.
"It doesn't sound so bad when you get some prospective, does it?" Duncan grinned.
"Not as bad," Richie replied, but smiled despite himself.
Duncan reached across the counter and ruffled Richie's already messed up hair. How could he have been worried Richie was scared of him? He just admitted that he liked breaking the rules. He was smiling, seem genuinely happy. . . well as happy as anybody could be after being told they've been grounded for a week. He didn't seem to have a problem talking with Duncan. He did not seem like he was scared in the least. But for some reason, Duncan couldn't get Richie flinching away from him out of his mind. And the more he thought about what Joe said, the more he noticed Richie's strange behavior when he was getting yelled at, one fight he'd be yelling back, and the next he would be silently listening, head bowed, not moving, tail tucked between his legs. Maybe Joe was right, Duncan needed to talk to Sean. Not about Richie, but about himself.
. . . . . .
"Richie," Duncan sighed.
"What?" Richie asked innocently.
"Make up your mind, either you're ready to eat on your own, or you still need me to stay on your back about it."
"I don't need you breathing down my neck all day." Richie crossed his arms.
"You would think," Duncan snapped. "But every time I ease off you, you stop eating. Except of course when you go out with Joe, then you can't stop yourself." Joe had been taking Richie out to dinner every Friday for the past couple weeks. Each trip Richie came home full and happy.
"Then maybe it's not me, maybe it's you," Richie shrugged.
"I think maybe it's time I take Sean up on his offer," Duncan decided.
Richie looked at him for a second, "What offer?"
"Maybe we're not as ready to do this on our own as we think we are."
"What? Mac, no!"
"This has been a long time coming, Rich." Duncan picked up the phone and began to dial.
"He treats me like I'm a kid, Mac. Come on, don't call him!" Richie begged.
Duncan pointed at the plate of eggs in front of Richie. "Eat."
"If I eat will you hang up?"
"No. Hello, Sean, its Duncan. Can you hang on a second? Thanks." Duncan put his hand over the receiver. "Too late to strike deals, now eat." Richie made a face and stared at his plate listening to the conversation. "Hi, sorry about that. . . Yeah, we're having a bit of trouble."
"Are not," Richie insisted.
"Exactly. . . I don't know what's wrong with him. He thinks it's me. . . Uh-huh. . . that works for us. . . I'll call him. . . Oh, okay 867-5309. . . Yeah. . . Okay, see you then." He hung up and turned to Richie who was staring up at him.
"That was fast, what did you do resort to plan 15b?" he asked.
"How are the eggs?" Duncan asked ignoring Richie's comment.
"Cold."
"So heat them up," Duncan told him.
Rolling his eyes Richie put the plate in the microwave. "So why did you give him Joe's number?"
"He asked for it."
"Thanks for sparing me the details," Richie mumbled.
Duncan looked at his watch. "See you in a couple hours," he said heading down to open the dojo. "Feel free to clean up the kitchen once you finish breakfast."
"Fine," Richie groaned.
"Oh, and have some fruit. I'll be back for lunch."
"Wait a minute," Richie said. "This is all sounding very familiar."
"It should. So, I take it I don't need to tell you to stay here?"
"Mac, I didn't do anything!"
"You have to eat, Richie. You don't eat, you don't leave. Simple as that."
"So if I eat can I leave?"
"Not today." Duncan pulled down the gate on the elevator and disappeared down to the first floor.
"What a load of crap. You friggin' control freak," Richie mumbled shoving a fork full of eggs into his mouth. "Can't do a damn thing without getting into trouble anymore. This is ridiculous. I don't need Sean. I need you to stay the hell off my back," Richie continued finishing the eggs. He sighed. "Why can't you just say that to his face, genius?" he scolded himself. "You've turned into such a pansy. Whatever you do, don't go back to the old neighborhood, you'll get your ass kicked." He grabbed an apple and a knife and started cutting it. He missed and hit is finger. "Ah! Damn it!" He stuck his finger in his mouth. "This is stupid," he mumbled around the finger. "This hurts," he added. "Mac's gonna kill me. . . wait a minute, who cares what Mac thinks? I'm leaving." Richie grabbed his jacket and headed for the back door that led to the outside staircase. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. The night Richie had snuck out with Joe came to mind, all the yelling, how bad he had felt. . . he turned around and threw his jacket back onto the couch flopping down next to it. "Pansy."
AN: Please leave a review! They are all (negative, positive, indifferent) welcomed and greatly appreciated.
Duncan and Richie made the decision to sell the Antique shop and the loft. It had only taken three weeks to find a buyer. That gave Duncan enough time to buy a dojo across town, but they were still looking for a house. They were staying in the loft above the dojo until they found a new place. Richie still wasn't eating much, and because of that he couldn't do the one thing he wanted to do most, work out.
"I'm telling you, Mac, I can handle it," Richie insisted as Duncan led him to the dojo office.
"And I'm telling you, Richie, you still don't eat enough yet. If you start working out you're going to have to eat more." Duncan closed the office door. "You can barely manage what I put in front of you, so you can't afford to burn any extra calories."
"Mac, c'on, can't I at least try? If I start to feel funny I'll stop, I promise."
Duncan thought for a moment. "I'll tell you what. You can start working out a little, and I stress 'little', after you gain five more pounds."
"Five more pounds! Mac, that'll take me forever!"
"Not before," Duncan insisted.
Richie had managed to gain about a pound or so a week. It had been nearly a month since they had left the cabin and he still looked rather pathetic. It didn't help that they had suffered a bit of a set back when they got back to Seacouver. Going from where he and Tessa had never been together before to somewhere they had spent a year together did a number on Richie's eating habits. He started hiding food again, pretending to eat, and Duncan had caught him purging. "One hour after every meal and the door stays open," was all Duncan had said when he caught him. Richie knew what that really meant, all the 'privileges' he had work so hard to get back, were gone. His own private lock down was once again in effect.
They began their three times a day fighting ritual. Food was still not high on Richie's list of things he wanted. Duncan was pretty good at keeping his temper and only lost it once. Oddly enough, it seemed being screamed at was exactly what Richie needed to put him back on track. His fear of getting in trouble kicked in and he hurried to do as he was told.
Slowly the fear faded away and he started exploring his boundaries, exactly like Sean told Duncan he would. First he would disappear only to end up being upstairs or downstairs when everyone thought he was in the other. His big rebellion was not telling Duncan where he was. A minor detail to most, but Richie was becoming increasingly annoyed by his mindless obedience. So he started small. He started to refuse to eat one thing in favor of making something else, or would wait a couple minutes before doing something that was asked of him. He still ultimately did what he was supposed to, but he was doing it on his terms. That was better than blindly following orders.
Richie started eating more, trying to gain weight but for some reason his body refused to weigh much more than it's frail 167 pounds. Richie didn't think that he was that skinny, but once he found out how much he was supposed to way (at 5'10" he needed to weigh least 185) he decided that he was indeed too skinny. Then when he started hanging around the dojo some of the really big guys started picking on him. It was all good-natured, they didn't know he had an eating disorder, but it still got on his nerves. Duncan heard Richie muttering something that sounded like, 'If that guy calls me a runt one more time. . .' a couple times as he forced himself to take another bite of dinner.
Finally they discovered Richie's weight problem. His body was taking the nutrients it was being given to start a late growth spurt. Slowly but surely his pants were becoming shorter. By focusing on growing his body used up more calories than he took in so he actually lost a couple pounds at one point. When he discovered this he threw a fit. He had to go out and buy new jeans that were two inches smaller in the waist and two inches longer in the inseam. He was convinced he would need another pair soon, he was going to gain the weight. He tried his best to gain his mandatory five pounds so he could start working out. But because of the growth spurt Sean suggested to Duncan that they raise it to ten pounds during one of their weekly phone calls. Richie finally gained the weight; it took him four weeks.
"Mac, you promised," Richie begged when Duncan told him he still couldn't work out. "I gained the weight. You said I could after I gained ten pounds."
"You still look too small to start working out," Duncan said shaking his head. "Plus some of that weight is because you're taller now, not all of it is fat like I was hoping for."
"But some of it is. One inch can't add more than five pounds, which means I gained the original five that you told me. And if you let me start working out I won't look so small." Richie's new height and stint with anorexia left him looking long and lanky, like a fresh out of the beginnings of puberty fifteen year old boy.
"I'm not sure about this, Richie."
"Come on, Mac. Just a little. I won't do too much, and if I start to feel funny I'll stop. Please?"
Duncan looked at Richie critically. Richie tilted his chin down slightly and looked up at Duncan with big, innocent, pleading, puppy dog eyes. He slowly pouted his lips slightly and blinked a couple times. Duncan was very familiar with this look. This was the same expression he had used many times when asking to barrow the T-bird to take a girl out, the same expression he had used to get out of trouble when he broke a quarter of a million dollar Chinese vase, the expression that had never been said 'no' to in over nineteen years, the expression that nobody was immune to. . . even Duncan. The expression that always got him what he wanted.
Duncan sighed. "The second you don't feel right you stop, you hear me?"
Richie grinned. "Okay," he chirped.
"And start small. No more than eight-pound free weights until I say different."
"Gotcha, Mac." Richie almost skipped to the stairs.
"No sparing."
" 'Kay, Mac."
"Don't push yourself."
"I won't."
"And don't let me catch you doing something you're not supposed to."
"You won't."
"I'm going to tell Sean about this. If he says this is a bad idea, deal's off!" He called as Richie disappeared down the stairwell. A faint 'Whatever' drifted through the door just before it closed.
. . . . . .
Richie sat on the bench happily lifting his eight-pound weights and watching Duncan go through a kata in the middle of the dojo floor. Richie had started working out before the dojo opened or after it closed. The first time he had done it while there were people there the same guy that called him 'squirt' and 'runt' started picking on him because of his small weights. So he just avoided working out in the dojo when it was open. He never admitted it to Duncan but he had started with five-pound weights because eight had been too heavy. Richie finished his last rep and stared at Duncan in growing curiosity. 'I could do that,' he thought as Duncan gracefully twirled the quarterstaff in a fluid almost dance. Duncan saw Richie's open gawking out of the corner of his eye and smiled slightly. He turned away and Richie got up to stand in front of him to get a better view of what he was doing.
"You want to try?" Duncan asked stopping and facing Richie.
Richie looked around himself. "Me?"
"Yeah, unless there's some other kid gawking at me that I haven't noticed. And if that's the case he can go first if you don't want to."
Richie smirked. "Nah, if he wants to gawk he can come out in the open. But since I seem to be the only one brave enough. . . I'll give it a shot."
"Okay, here." Duncan handed him the staff and showed him how to hold it. Once Richie had gotten the hang of the basics Duncan got another staff and showed him a beginning kata. "Yeah, that's it. Take your time. Get used to the rhythm. Feel the balance." Soon Duncan had Richie mimicking his every move. He had gotten so used to Richie moving with him it took a second for him to notice that Richie had stopped. "You okay?" he asked noticing Richie's strange expression.
"I'm fine," Richie answered. "I just think I should stop. That stuffs more of a work out than it looks." He was panting slightly.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I just think I should stop."
"Okay. We'll stop."
"You can keep going. I'm just gonna get something to drink."
"Have you not eaten enough today?" Duncan asked.
Richie looked at Duncan then at the floor. "Maybe."
"Maybe you ate enough or maybe you didn't?"
Richie swallowed. "Maybe I didn't."
Duncan set his jaw. He had begun to ease off of Richie about his eating, apparently he had started too soon. "Okay, let's get you something to eat," he said evenly. Richie just nodded and started toward the stairs. "Not so fast." Duncan's tone stopped him in his tracks. "You want to take the stairs you eat like you said you would. Take the elevator." Richie nodded again and went to the elevator. Taking the stairs had been Richie's sneaky way of exercising when he wasn't supposed to. Duncan had quickly caught onto his game but Sean said to let him. Now it was a quick and easy punishment to make Richie take the elevator.
Duncan watched Richie pull apart the slice of pizza in front of him as he sat at the island. "What have you eaten today?" he asked. Richie shrugged and didn't look up. "You can't remember?" Richie shrugged again. "Have you eaten anything?"
"I had some yogurt."
"How much?"
"What I didn't eat yesterday."
"All of what you didn't eat yesterday?"
"Most of it," he answered after a slight pause.
"What else?" Richie didn't answer. "Anything else? That's all you had isn't it?" Richie still didn't respond. "Richie," Duncan started slowly. "How can I get this through to you? I know you don't want to, but you have to eat. More than just almost half a cup of yogurt. That's not enough. Especially with what you were just doing downstairs."
"I know," Richie responded quietly chewing on a piece of pepperoni.
"You obviously don't. I'm trying to make this as easy on you as I can. But you have to work with me, here. Either you start making the right decisions or I'm going to have to do it for you. . . again."
"Fine," Richie groaned.
"Fine what?"
"Just fine."
"Richie, what are you trying to say?"
"Nothing! Would ya just leave me alone?" Richie asked.
"No. I tried that. I left you alone and you didn't eat. I leave you alone, and the next think I know you're purging in the bathroom."
"Hey! That was a month ago!"
"I leave you alone, and just dig yourself deeper. I take away the shovel you find new things to dig with. What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know! Mac, I just. . . I don't know."
"Tomorrow you call Sean tell him what's going on and work out a solution."
"Mac. . ."
"What? Richie, we don't have much of a choice. It's Sean or somebody else. You can go to somebody else if I'm not part of the problem. If I am, as far as I know Sean's our only choice."
"Fine," Richie began to slide off the stool he was sitting on leaving the pizza barely picked at.
"Don't even think about it," Duncan sneered. "You finish that, and this." He put an apple beside the plate. "Tomorrow, you stay up here. No working out, period. No stairs. No push-ups when you think I'm not looking. Nothing. You just concentrate on eating."
Richie's jaw dropped. "Mac, that's not fair!"
"Don't give me that. Do you think it's fair what you're doing to your body? You are royally screwing yourself up, you know that?"
"But, Mac!"
"No! You stay up here and no working out until I say otherwise, you hear me?"
Richie looked at him in disbelief. "Are you grounding me?"
Duncan glared back running the words through his head. "Yeah, you're grounded."
"What?"
"You heard me, you're grounded."
"Aw, Mac, come on! You've got to be kidding me!"
"Nope, you're grounded."
"Would ya stop sayin' that?"
"Why? You gave me the idea."
"Man, I have got to learn to keep my mouth shut." Richie slammed his fist down on the counter.
"You do that, you can't eat, then you'd just be grounded longer."
"Mac!" Richie's voice squeaked.
"You do drink don't you?" Duncan asked suddenly.
"What?"
"You drink, you know water, milk, juice. . . you don't not drink, right?"
"Yeah, I drink."
"How much?"
"I don't know, I don't measure it out."
"Do you drink enough?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sure?"
"Holy crap, Mac. Are you really that paranoid?"
"You tend to find ways to neglect you health, first you ate too much junk food and drank too many sodas, then you didn't eat at all, now you only eat when I force you to. If I can't trust you to eat, how can I trust you to do anything else?"
"I piss don't I?" Richie asked dryly.
"Supposedly."
"Man, you are insane!"
"Me? Have you not been listening to our conversation? Where has your brain been hiding the past three months? I'm not the insane one!" Richie stared up at him and clenched his jaw. 'Oh, great, now look what you've done,' Duncan groaned inwardly. "Richie, that came out wrong. That's not what I meant."
"I think you said it perfectly. I understood what you meant," Richie said curtly turning his attention back to the now cold pizza on his plate.
"Richie, don't. Come on, you know I didn't mean that," Duncan said gently knowing the damage had already been done.
"Whatever you say, Mac. Apparently I don't pay much attention to anything anyway. I'll be sure to work on that while I'm grounded." He tore off the crust and began to nibble at it.
"Richie. . ." Duncan started. Richie dropped his food and glared up at him. "Let me guess, just leave you alone, right?"
"Only if you really want to. I mean, if you don't trust me and all. Maybe you should feed me yourself. That way I there's no way I can't eat," Richie replied smugly.
"I'll just leave you alone, then." Duncan went over and sat on the couch and picked up his book.
Richie turned back to his plate and began to pick at it. It was cold. He didn't like cold pizza. "Don't freak, I'm just heating this up," he said as he slid off the stool. While he waited for the microwave to finish its job he grabbed a paring knife out of the drawer to cut the apple with. Nobody had ever told him he couldn't use knives but he knew he wasn't supposed to, but technically he wasn't supposed to be in the kitchen alone, so as long as he was breaking rules. . . 'Okay, so Mac's only ten feet way and there is no wall dividing the kitchen from the living room, but still technically I am the only one in the kitchen.' "I'm not allowed to be in the kitchen because there are too many thing I could hurt myself with," Richie mimicked under his breath taking the pizza out of the microwave.
Duncan heard him, but didn't say anything. He decided to let Richie vent. As he watched Richie eat he began to wonder if he had been too hard on him. It was hard to decide what was okay and what was too extreme when it came to punishing Richie, now. There weren't that many things Richie did of his own free will. Most of what he did he was told to do. So when Duncan took away the one thing he really enjoyed doing; his whole world crashed down on him. He had worked so hard to gain the weight, even when his body had started to conspire against him he kept working. All he wanted to do was lift some weights and get his muscle back. He had finally been allowed to, only to have the privilege taken away less than a week later. But the original reason he couldn't work out was he didn't eat enough, so if he wasn't eating he couldn't work out.
They had been getting along so well downstairs, and then Richie felt the affects of not eating enough. The boy had enough sense about him to stop, but maybe it was just because he had promised he would so many times. Duncan noticed Richie had finished the pizza and was now staring at the knife on the counter. Duncan watched and waited to see what Richie would do next.
Slowly Richie picked up the knife. He wasn't sure what to do with it. He wanted to cut the apple so it would be easier to eat, but the knife felt awkward in his hand. He wondered if Duncan was watching him. He had gotten so use to the feeling of being watched he couldn't tell if the feeling was there anymore. And if Duncan was watching him what was he thinking? Richie glanced over his shoulder and saw Duncan openly staring at him.
"Is this okay?" he asked indicating the knife.
"Yeah, it's fine."
Richie nodded slightly, his new response when he didn't know what to say, and set to the task of cutting and eating the apple. When he was done he put his dishes away, walked past Duncan without saying a word, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. He left the door completely open and stripped in the corner, he didn't care anymore.
. . . . . .
When Richie woke up the next morning Duncan had already gone downstairs. There was oatmeal simmering on the stove and a banana sitting on the counter, strategically placed where he couldn't miss it. Sighing heavily, he began to rummage through the cabinets and found some raisins and the cinnamon.
"I hate oatmeal," he grumbled to himself spooning some out of the pot and into a bowl. He dumped in the cinnamon and raisins and wished he was allowed to eat sugar, but he wasn't. "Stupid rules."
He set about the horrible task of eating. Forty-five minutes and three trips to the microwave later he finished. He washed the dishes and started looking for something else to do. There wasn't a lot around. Most of his stuff was in storage waiting to be moved into the new house they were still looking for. Sighing again he put on his headphones and settled down on the couch with one of Duncan's Grisham novels. It was 10:30; it was going to be a long day.
Two hours later Duncan came upstairs and Richie was still sitting on the couch reading. Richie noticed Duncan out of the corner of his eye but didn't look up. Duncan ignored him as well as he began to put together some sandwiches for lunch. He peeled an orange and put half on one plate while eating the other half as he worked.
"Hey, Rich, lunch," he said putting a plate on the coffee table in front of the boy.
Richie didn't look up or even turn down his music. "I'll get to it. I'm still kinda full."
Duncan pulled the headphones off Richie's ears. "Now."
"Fine." Richie picked up a piece of orange and started eating it.
Later that evening the elevator started up again and Richie prepared to fight, he didn't want to eat. He stayed where he was on the couch folded his arms and glared waiting Duncan.
"Hey, Richie," a different voice greeted.
"Joe?"
"How'd you like for Mac to get out of your hair for the evening?"
"About as much as I'd like for Mac to get out of my hair period," Richie answered not missing a beat.
Joe laughed and made himself comfortable on the couch next to Richie. "I felt the same way about my old man when I was your age."
"Mac's not my old man. He's an old man who won't leave me the hell alone," Richie retorted.
"And what does that make me?"
"Joe, I don't know how old you are, but I'm pretty sure Mac's a little older."
Joe nodded. "Point taken. So, what do you want to do tonight?" he asked looking around the loft at the two beds and single dresser behind the couch and the small kitchen they were facing.
"You hanging around?"
"Yeah, I figured you two could use some time apart. So I convinced Mac to go out if I - - "
"No, wait don't tell me," Richie interrupted. "Let me see if I can guess. I'm nineteen, I'm grounded, and now I have a babysitter?" Joe nodded slightly. Richie let out a choked laugh. "Aw, damn it!"
"Sorry, Rich. But that pretty much sums it up."
"This is ridiculous! He left me alone all day, what makes now any different?"
"Sorry, you're stuck. But we can handle this one of two ways: Mac's way or my way."
Richie looked up at him having already slouched into an annoyed pout. "Is there a difference?"
"Yes. You can follow Mac's rules, or. . ."
"Or what?"
"The way I see it, I'm in charge," Joe started.
Richie rolled his eyes, "Aw, man."
"So," Joe continued. "If I tell you we're going out tonight, you have to do what I tell you." A mischievous light lit in Joe's eyes. "If I tell you to drink the milkshake, you have to."
Richie looked at him trying to decide if his offer was a trick or not. "I'm not allowed to," he said softly.
"What if I flat out ordered you to drink it?" Joe asked with a grin.
Slowly Richie returned the look as he realized it was not a trick. "Then I guess I'd have to do it. I mean, if you ordered me to drink a double chocolate milkshake, there's nothing I can do about it, seeing as you're in charge and all."
"My point exactly. So, you hungry?"
"Not really," Richie shook his head.
"Let's see if we can do anything about that."
. . . . . .
"You did what?" Richie laughed taking another bite of his bacon cheeseburger (if he was going to break the rules he was going to go all out).
"I was drunk," Joe reminded him, laughing at the memory. "I didn't know what I was going."
"That's no excuse, man. That's horrible."
Joe marveled at his ability to get Duncan off of Richie's mind, even if it would probably only last a couple minutes. "I was young and stupid."
"You were my age, so are you saying. . ."
"You're young and stupid? Yes."
Richie grinned. "Jerk," he said through a mouth full of meat and cheese.
"Every man is young and stupid until they're at least forty," Joe told him matter of factly.
"So what's Mac's excuse?" Richie asked as he began to pick apart what was left of his burger, eventually eating the bacon.
"He's just worried about you." Joe watched as Richie started eating the bun leaving the meat on the plate.
"He's just overbearing and overprotective," Richie said.
"He's doing what he can."
"He's being a pain." Richie began pulling off small chunks of meat to eat.
"He's being a friend."
"Pain," Richie insisted.
"I know it's cliché, but you'll thank him when you work through all this and can go back to your normal life."
Richie began munching on his fries. "You're right, it is cliché. And even if it is true, it's still annoying now."
"Just focus on the big picture and it won't be so bad," Joe assured him.
"I'd rather focus on the details and complain."
"If you look at the big picture, the details won't bother you."
"You'd be surprised," Richie told him.
"So would you." Joe indicated Richie's nearly empty plate.
Richie looked down then back up with a confused grin. "I did that?"
"Yup," Joe nodded. "You were looking at the big picture, the event, not the details, the food."
"Huh," Richie grunted thoughtfully. "So, about this milkshake. . ."
. . . . . .
"Richie?" Duncan called glancing around the empty loft. He noticed the answering machine light blinking. He pushed the play button.
"Hey, Mac," Richie's voice tentatively greeted him. "Um, I'm at Joe's. . . his bar. Uh, I just thought you'd want to know. Um, I'll be back later, I guess. So, uh. . . okay, that's it. Um, bye."
Duncan turned and left the loft muttering to himself.
The answering machine beeped and a new message started. "Mac, its Joe. Don't be mad at Richie. I had to practically drag him out. I take full responsibility. I just thought that. . . I'm not going to explain this to an answering machine. Give me a call if you get this before Richie and I get back."
. . . . . .
"Richie!" Duncan barked throwing open the bar door. He scanned the thinning crowd and didn't see him. "Where is he?" he demanded of the bartender.
"Gangly, blonde, paranoid?" the bartender asked. Duncan nodded. "Office."
Richie and Joe jumped as Duncan slammed the office door open.
"One night!" he yelled slamming the door shut again. "One damn night!"
"Mac, just chill a sec, would ya? I can explain," Richie rushed out.
"No! Don't you ever listen? It's not complicated, you're grounded. Do you know what that means?"
"Mac! Would ya just- - "
"Do you?"
Richie jumped as Duncan firmly gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in trapping him. "Yes," he answered quickly.
Joe cleared his throat. "MacLeod, can I talk to you?"
"In a minute," Duncan snapped turning his attention back to Richie, who quickly averted his gaze to his lap. "Didn't I tell you to stay in the loft?"
"Yes," Richie answered softly shrinking back into the chair.
"And you still left?"
"Well, yeah, but. . ." Richie stammered.
"Not only did you leave, you end up in a bar? You're nineteen you're too young!"
"But, Mac. . ." Richie tried to explain looking up. Duncan's hard glare made him forget what he was going to say.
"No buts. Go wait in the car," Duncan ordered standing up clearing a path for Richie to leave.
"Mac," Richie tried on last time.
"Go!" Duncan pointed to the door.
Richie stood up. "I told you he'd freak," he told Joe.
"Richie," Duncan warned. Richie swallowed, grabbed his jacket off the chair, and left.
"MacLeod," Joe said sternly. "Calm down."
"All you had to do was make sure he ate, Joe," Duncan said.
"And I did. All he needed was a change of scenery and a distraction," Joe explained calmly.
"All he needed was to eat. And he's grounded, last I checked that meant he couldn't leave the house," Duncan shot back.
"You being so strict with him his half the problem, you know."
"What?"
"How can you treat him like that? He's a kid with a few problems, not a convict. You come barging in here demanding explanations, scaring him half to death, yelling, not letting him get three words in."
"Joe! You don't know what all he's been doing," Duncan insisted.
"Yes, I do," Joe said. "He told me everything. Once you get him talking it's hard to get him to stop."
"So how can you sit there and tell me I should just leave him alone and see what happens?"
"That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying you should give him a little room to make some mistakes. You standing over him all the time is doing the opposite of what you want. It's making it harder for him to take responsibility for his own actions. Not that much of what he does is his idea, from what I hear." Duncan didn't respond. "And the only reason he went with me was because I promised I would take full responsibility. And even then he spent half the night worrying you were going to jump to conclusions and blow it all out of proportion like this."
"Blow it out of. . . blow it out. . . He knew he was grounded, he knew he couldn't leave, and he did anyway. He deliberately disobeyed me."
"I knew he was grounded, too. And I think he's too old for that."
"It's not your decision. And I think I know Richie a little better than you do."
"He's scared to death of you, did you know that?" Joe snapped, Duncan's behavior was getting on his nerves.
"What are you talking about?"
"Never noticed, huh?"
"Noticed what?"
"The way he acts around you. He can't decide if he's supposed to stand up to you or just sit there and let you ream him out. You didn't notice the way he started cowering the second you burst in here yelling like you did? He doesn't usually stutter like that, Mac," Joe pointed out.
"It's just because he knows he's in trouble," Duncan said.
"It's because he's scared of you," Joe insisted. "The Richie I spent tonight with, isn't the Richie that just left. He's totally different when he's around you. And this whole bipolar act you've got going on can't be helping. I think my favorite story was how you taught him to use the quarterstaff and ten minutes later grounded him because he wasn't hungry."
"He wasn't eating!"
"That day. Did he eat the day before? Do you eat the same amount of food everyday? I think next time you and Sean talk maybe you should try to work out whatever it is that's bothering you so much. Because all you're stubbornness is doing is hurting Richie." Joe and Duncan glared at each other. "You have some issues that you haven't worked through yet. You know I'm right."
"Joe, we'll finish this later," Duncan said turning on his heal and leaving.
The ride home was completely silent. Duncan was still angry, not so much at Richie anymore as much as at Joe. Who was he to tell Duncan how to handle Richie? Duncan doubted Richie told Joe everything; he probably gave him a few choice highlights making Duncan out to be the bad guy.
Richie sat quietly, head bowed, staring at his feet. Joe's plan to keep him out of trouble had backfired, just like Richie said it would. The plan also had an unseen side-effect: Richie had gotten a taste of what it was like flat out breaking the rules again, and he missed it. He had never been much of one for following the rules before the shooting, he had gotten into trouble plenty of times before, getting yelled at by Duncan was nothing new to him. . . but it never felt this bad before. As much as he wanted to, Richie doubted he would have the courage to openly defy Duncan again.
When they got to the dojo Richie silently trailed a few paces behind Duncan. He kept his head bowed and only nodded in response when Duncan suggested Richie shower first. When he finished in the bathroom he went straight to bed without a word.
Duncan showered and sat on the edge of his bed thinking. Joe's words ran through his mind. 'He's scared to death of you'. He got up and walked to where Richie was sleeping. He was curled into a tight ball with his arms wrapped around his pillow. Duncan lightly touched his shoulder.
"Night, Rich."
The boy made a soft pouting noise and tried to pull alway. Usually hearing Duncan's voice made Richie relax and stretch out, not curl up tighter.
"Joe's right," Duncan realized. "You are scared of me, aren't you?"
. . . . . .
The next morning Duncan put on his best non-angry face as Richie shuffled across the loft to the kitchen.
"Morning, Richie," he greeted casually. Richie sleepily mumbled something in response as he settled into the stool at the island. "So, what did you two do last night?" Duncan asked carefully, but not carefully enough Richie's defenses immediately went up. "I was just wondering."
Richie sat quietly for a minute. "We went to dinner," he said softly, not particularly prepared to be yelled at this early in the morning.
"Where did you go?" Duncan asked, trying to ease the boy's apprehension.
"McCord's," he shrugged.
"Ah, an old favorite. What did you get?"
"Burger," Richie answered suddenly becoming very interested in the counter top.
"What kind?" Duncan groaned inwardly.
"Bacon cheeseburger."
Luckily Richie's head was still bowed so he didn't see Duncan's frown. Knowing Richie there was more on that burger than just bacon, cheese, and meat. He seemed to add on any condiment that anybody had ever suggested putting on a burger, the fattier the better. Duncan didn't like Richie eating that way before, but now it was completely out of the question. . . and Richie knew that.
"What else?" Duncan asked keeping his tone even.
"Fries. . . and a milkshake." Richie looked up this time and saw Duncan's face as he mentally added the milkshake to Richie's growing list of offenses. "I know, I'm not supposed to do that, but I ate everything else, and I don't know. . . I just figured if I was going to get in trouble, I might as well do something to deserve it," he explained looking back down.
Duncan took a deep breath. "Richie, do I need to explain why you can't eat everything you ate last night?"
"No, I know why." Richie looked back up. "But for the first time, something actually sounded good. I wanted to eat all that. And I did. And the entire time I could hear you yelling at me, but I didn't care. I was doing something I wanted to do because I wanted to do it. I didn't have to check with anybody first, I just did it. For a couple hours I felt normal again."
"Richie, I understand that. And I don't entirely blame you for what you did. But you're not normal, you're anorexic. You're working on it, but it will be awhile before you can eat that stuff again. And even then, you can't eat that much of it. You've done some serious damage to your body, and it can't process all that fat you ate last night. And the sugar is just empty calories, if you're going to eat something you need to eat something with some nutritional value, especially at the rate you've been growing."
"But I was eating," Richie pointed out. "I actually ate it all."
"You ate it all?" Duncan repeated.
"Well, not all. I didn't finish the shake, I got full."
"How'd Joe get you to do it?"
"I don't know, one minute we were talking and the next I had eaten everything," Richie shrugged. "I was just as surprised as you are, man."
"Richie, that's great!" Duncan exclaimed. "Granted, I wish you had picked something a little healthier than a bacon cheeseburger, but still."
Richie blushed and looked down, embarrassed. Slowly he looked back up. "So, does this mean I can start working out again?" he asked with a sly grin.
Duncan grinned back. "Nope, you're still grounded."
"But, I ate," Richie protested.
"Yeah, after you snuck out."
"But, Joe said. . ."
"You didn't have to go along with him," Duncan pointed out. "You could have said no."
Richie rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. How long?"
"A week."
"A week?" Richie repeated in shock.
"Two?"
"Two!"
"Three?" Duncan offered.
"Mac!"
"You keep fighting me on this you'll end up grounded for the next five years."
"Is it too late to go back one?" Richie asked hopefully.
"It doesn't sound so bad when you get some prospective, does it?" Duncan grinned.
"Not as bad," Richie replied, but smiled despite himself.
Duncan reached across the counter and ruffled Richie's already messed up hair. How could he have been worried Richie was scared of him? He just admitted that he liked breaking the rules. He was smiling, seem genuinely happy. . . well as happy as anybody could be after being told they've been grounded for a week. He didn't seem to have a problem talking with Duncan. He did not seem like he was scared in the least. But for some reason, Duncan couldn't get Richie flinching away from him out of his mind. And the more he thought about what Joe said, the more he noticed Richie's strange behavior when he was getting yelled at, one fight he'd be yelling back, and the next he would be silently listening, head bowed, not moving, tail tucked between his legs. Maybe Joe was right, Duncan needed to talk to Sean. Not about Richie, but about himself.
. . . . . .
"Richie," Duncan sighed.
"What?" Richie asked innocently.
"Make up your mind, either you're ready to eat on your own, or you still need me to stay on your back about it."
"I don't need you breathing down my neck all day." Richie crossed his arms.
"You would think," Duncan snapped. "But every time I ease off you, you stop eating. Except of course when you go out with Joe, then you can't stop yourself." Joe had been taking Richie out to dinner every Friday for the past couple weeks. Each trip Richie came home full and happy.
"Then maybe it's not me, maybe it's you," Richie shrugged.
"I think maybe it's time I take Sean up on his offer," Duncan decided.
Richie looked at him for a second, "What offer?"
"Maybe we're not as ready to do this on our own as we think we are."
"What? Mac, no!"
"This has been a long time coming, Rich." Duncan picked up the phone and began to dial.
"He treats me like I'm a kid, Mac. Come on, don't call him!" Richie begged.
Duncan pointed at the plate of eggs in front of Richie. "Eat."
"If I eat will you hang up?"
"No. Hello, Sean, its Duncan. Can you hang on a second? Thanks." Duncan put his hand over the receiver. "Too late to strike deals, now eat." Richie made a face and stared at his plate listening to the conversation. "Hi, sorry about that. . . Yeah, we're having a bit of trouble."
"Are not," Richie insisted.
"Exactly. . . I don't know what's wrong with him. He thinks it's me. . . Uh-huh. . . that works for us. . . I'll call him. . . Oh, okay 867-5309. . . Yeah. . . Okay, see you then." He hung up and turned to Richie who was staring up at him.
"That was fast, what did you do resort to plan 15b?" he asked.
"How are the eggs?" Duncan asked ignoring Richie's comment.
"Cold."
"So heat them up," Duncan told him.
Rolling his eyes Richie put the plate in the microwave. "So why did you give him Joe's number?"
"He asked for it."
"Thanks for sparing me the details," Richie mumbled.
Duncan looked at his watch. "See you in a couple hours," he said heading down to open the dojo. "Feel free to clean up the kitchen once you finish breakfast."
"Fine," Richie groaned.
"Oh, and have some fruit. I'll be back for lunch."
"Wait a minute," Richie said. "This is all sounding very familiar."
"It should. So, I take it I don't need to tell you to stay here?"
"Mac, I didn't do anything!"
"You have to eat, Richie. You don't eat, you don't leave. Simple as that."
"So if I eat can I leave?"
"Not today." Duncan pulled down the gate on the elevator and disappeared down to the first floor.
"What a load of crap. You friggin' control freak," Richie mumbled shoving a fork full of eggs into his mouth. "Can't do a damn thing without getting into trouble anymore. This is ridiculous. I don't need Sean. I need you to stay the hell off my back," Richie continued finishing the eggs. He sighed. "Why can't you just say that to his face, genius?" he scolded himself. "You've turned into such a pansy. Whatever you do, don't go back to the old neighborhood, you'll get your ass kicked." He grabbed an apple and a knife and started cutting it. He missed and hit is finger. "Ah! Damn it!" He stuck his finger in his mouth. "This is stupid," he mumbled around the finger. "This hurts," he added. "Mac's gonna kill me. . . wait a minute, who cares what Mac thinks? I'm leaving." Richie grabbed his jacket and headed for the back door that led to the outside staircase. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. The night Richie had snuck out with Joe came to mind, all the yelling, how bad he had felt. . . he turned around and threw his jacket back onto the couch flopping down next to it. "Pansy."
AN: Please leave a review! They are all (negative, positive, indifferent) welcomed and greatly appreciated.