The next morning Tessa nearly had a nervous breakdown when she opened Richie's door and found his bed empty. Not until she heard dishes clinking in the kitchen did she stop panicking. She quickly padded her way across the loft and found him already dressed putting cream cheese on a bagel.

"You're up early," she commented carefully. The last thing she had said to him the night before was 'go to your room' and she wasn't sure how he was going to react.

"Gotta be at school early," he shrugged not looking up. "Got in trouble yesterday, you know."

"Richie, are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad?" he asked curtly. "I just got the shit punished out of me for a stupid fight. You know in public school they'd just yell at you."

"You're not in public school," she reminded him. "Maybe you need to tailor your behavior."

"None of this was my idea you know," Richie shot back. "I don't see why we couldn't leave things the way they were."

"Because you need an education."

"I know everything I need to know. Life is a powerful teacher."

"Life doesn't teach you algebra or chemistry."

"I don't need that," he insisted grabbing his bag. "I gotta go, see ya," he mumbled as he brushed past her.

"Bye, Richie," she answered.

. . . . . .

Two days later Richie was pouting in his room sitting on his bed slumped up against the wall when there was a knock on his door.

"What?"

Duncan opened the door. "Just checking up on you."

"Making sure I didn't run away?" Richie grumbled.

"Making sure you weren't doing anything you weren't supposed to," Duncan corrected. Richie rolled his eyes and looked away. He had been caught twice in front of his TV with the volume way down and once with his headphones on listening to his stereo. "You know, this would be a lot easier if you weren't being so difficult."

"What? Mac, I didn't do anything!" Richie insisted. "This would be a lot easier if you guys weren't so strict. I mean, a whole week? For one fight? First offence? Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Like you've never gotten into fights before, Richie," Duncan reminded him. "We didn't like you doing it before and now you can't. If anyone looks too deeply into your records you end up in jail and I'd probably go right along with you for forging them. There's more riding on your behavior than you think." Richie looked at him and didn't say anything. "I'm not trying to guilt trip you," Duncan continued sitting on the edge of Richie's bed, fighting the urge to reach out and put his hand on his shoulder. "But you have to think about more than just yourself. Yeah, it's annoying when people make fun of you, but that doesn't mean you can haul off and kick the guy's butt. Ignore it as much as you can and if it gets too bad walk away. There's no shame in not fighting."

"But you let one guy get away with it people think you're a push over and it just gets worse," Richie insisted.

"Then you might have to deal with more people getting on your nerves, but you still can't pick fights with every guy that says something you don't like," Duncan said gently. He knew Richie's ego was sensitive and half the time the only way he could think of to prove himself was to fight. "Besides, you can't go around beating the crap out of every guy that crosses you," he added with a slight smile. "You understand?"

Richie didn't react to Duncan's attempt at a joke and sighed heavily. "Yeah."

. . . . . .

The next day at school Aaron was regaling the lunch table with a story about his father's army days when Geoff Conway approached them.

"My daddy the war hero," he mimicked.

Richie's defenses immediately went up and he glared up at the bully. "At least his dad isn't flavor of the month on the cell block," he sneered.

"Mac," Aaron warned. Richie smirked at him then went back to his spaghetti.

"Watch it MacLeod," Geoff returned. "Or next time you're out of here for good."

"Straight from detention to expulsion, gotta be some kind of record," he shrugged pulling apart his garlic bread.

"I don't like you."

"The feeling's mutual," Richie replied. "Do you know what that means?" he added as if talking to a five year old.

"Shut up, retard."

"You first, dullard."

"What the hell does that mean?" Geoff demanded before he could stop himself.

Richie smirked as he stood up and shouldered his bag. "It means idiot, even a retard like me knows that. I'll see you guys later." And with that he ventured into the hall, checked to see if the coast was clear, and went out the doors.

. . . . . .

The school had called and requested a parent/teacher conference. Richie had been sent to detention to wait for it to be over. "Joel," Duncan greeted curtly as he entered detention hall.

"Hey, Dad," Richie returned in a shaky voice with a hopeful smile.

"Skipping?"

"I was going to come back for detention."

"If you were going to come back why leave in the first place?"

Richie sighed and shifted in his seat as Duncan glared down at him. "Geoff and I got into it again," he admitted slowly. "You said to walk away, so I did."

"Not out of the school! Away from the situation."

"I needed some time to think," Richie offered lamely.

"You'll have plenty of time, you have detention for another week, and as long as you have detention."

"I'm grounded," Richie finished.

"Exactly. Let's go." Duncan turned and left the room.

Slowly Richie stood. "That's your dad, huh?" the boy next to him asked.

"Yup."

"Looks like you're in big trouble."

"And I have Father Parker to thank for it, again. See ya tomorrow?"

"For the next three days," the boy answered.

Saturday and Sunday passed without incident. Richie stayed in his room only coming out to eat and every couple hours someone would check up on him with an offer of some chore he could do to get out of his room for a while. He steadfastly refused and spent his days staring at the walls or sleeping.

"I didn't know somebody could sleep so much," Tessa commented after quietly closing his door late Sunday afternoon. "Its like he's a hibernating bear."

"He's just being stubborn. He's got another week left of it, he'll start begging for something to do soon," Duncan assured her.

"You grounded him again?"

"He got detention again," he shrugged. "He was skipping class. You can't expect me to let him get away with that," he added at Tessa's accusing look.

"Can't you just lecture him?"

"What would that teach him?"

"That we're not going to overreact every time he gets in trouble."

"Tess," Duncan sighed. "He's sixteen, not five. If he gets away with one thing, he's going to try to get away with another."

"And if you keep punishing him he could run away."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he thinks we're angry with him?" she suggested. "He's sixteen, he's impressionable, he's sensitive, and he's done it before. He's already being punished at school, if you ground him here, I'll un-ground him. Then he might trust one of us."

"Tessa."

"I'll do it, Duncan. He doesn't deserve it. He was just trying to do what you told him."

"He knew what I meant, he was using it to get out of trouble and it didn't work," Duncan argued back.

"How do you know that?"

"Tessa, we can't do this, we can't turn on each other."

"I let you ground him the first time. Now it's my turn to deal with him," she insisted coldly before walking away.

An hour later when Tessa went to check on Richie she found him lying on his bed staring at a point in mid-space.

"Richie?" she said softly attracting his attention. "Are you hungry?"

"Yeah," he answered quietly. "What are you making?"

"I thought we'd go out, just you and me. Your choice. How does that sound?"

"Sounds like there's a catch."

"I'll tell you what it is later. Do you want to or not?" Richie just looked at her. "I could always just make spinach omelets." Richie grinned slightly. "Ah, I knew you'd smile again one of these days."

"Just you and me?" he asked.

"Anywhere you want to go."

Richie thought for a second. "Alright, but this catch had better not be-"

"Ah!" she interrupted. "I'll tell you later. Get dressed."

Richie rolled off his bed and searched for his jeans.

"I didn't know you liked seafood," Tessa commented as Richie began digging into the large plate of lobster and shrimp he had ordered.

"Love it," Richie told her. "I grew up here, my first solid food was lobster. My mom used to call me fish boy cause that's all I used to eat. I would throw a fit if she gave me anything else."

"Then its a good seafood is so cheap around her. You could have been an expensive child."

"Could of," he agreed.

"What happened to your mom?" Tessa asked carefully.

"She died."

"I thought so."

"So why'd you ask if you already knew?" Richie asked defensively.

"I didn't mean to upset you," she assured him carefully. "It just came out. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It just. it weirds me out when people start asking stuff like that. It's nobody else's business."

"I'm sorry, I won't ask anymore." She went back to her stuffed salmon.

"I was real little," Richie said suddenly. He was very quiet about it; she almost didn't hear him.

"How little?" she asked hoping this was his way of opening up.

"Five. I don't remember if I was about to turn five or if I just did."

"What happened?"

"I don't remember. I barely remember her. I just remember we used to go to the post office and candy store every week."

"What happened to your dad?"

"He left us, I guess," he shrugged. "I don't remember him at all."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," he answered spearing a shrimp. "I figure he just didn't want a kid."

"Richie, it's not your fault either."

"I know," he shrugged shoving the food in his mouth. "So what does Mac have to say about me going out? I mean, aren't I supposed to be grounded?"

Tessa thought for a minute. "We decided you'd been grounded long enough," she lied. Duncan had been angry that Tessa had undermined his decision, but hadn't stood in her way when they left; she guessed he wanted to remain a 'united front'. "I guess this is a good time to bring up the catch for dinner."

Richie sighed and looked at her with a smart-ass grin. "Can't we wait until after desert?"

She smiled back. "You think you're going to have room?"

"Of course."

"We'll get some ice cream. How does that sound?"

"Almost as good a cheese cake," he answered eyeing the desert tray hungrily.

"Fine, Mac will think I'm spoiling you, but have your cheese cake."

He grinned broadly at her. "I knew you'd let me. Who cares what Mac thinks?" Tessa laughed. "He's a jerk," he added softly to himself.

"He just wants to make sure you don't get into any serious trouble," Tessa assured him having overheard Richie's final comment.

"But he's so.so." he searched for the word. "Militant about the whole thing. He's the strictest dad I've ever had. And trust me, I've had plenty."

"I'll talk to him about it. And once again, you bring me to the catch."

"Uh-oh."

"You can't keep getting in trouble. The less you get in trouble the less of a big deal it will be when it happens. The more the harsher the punishments."

"Harsher?" Richie repeated. "I've been sitting in my room staring at lent in the air like a house cat for the past week! And this was the first time! What's going to be harsher? Locking me in the closet for a month?"

"It was almost two," she reminded him. "And if you keep up the attitude it might be three."

"Sorry," Richie quickly mumbled.

"I know you don't like it. But we can't leave you to raise yourself anymore. You're still young."

"I don't need anymore parents," Richie insisted.

"But you need someone to take care of you because you're not doing a very good job of it." Richie opened his mouth to protest. "You don't have to, you shouldn't have to," she cut him off. "But you have to trust that we know what we're doing. Let us help you. We're not going to hurt you, we don't have a laugh every time we send you to your room, we just want to do what's best for you."

"You barely know me, how do you know what's best?"

"Because I know you're hiding something. I'm not going to ask you to tell me, I'm not going to pressure you to share anything you don't want to. But there is something wrong and when you feel you're ready I want you to tell me what it is."