AN- Having received so many nice reviews, I'm now feeling really guilty that I have always been too shy to review other people's work, when I have enjoyed it, because it really does encourage you to keep writing. Thank you. I hope people aren't getting bored that this is soo long – I promise that I do know how it ends! And by the way Isa .. of course Richie never died – the Dark Quickening I can accept – (although I do think Duncan would have tried harder to find Richie) but Archangel? Don't think so.

****

Methos glanced at Richie as he slid the Hotel key card into its slot.

"You still don't look well."

"I'm fine." Richie gave him a lop sided smile.

"Sure you are." Methos muttered. He went over to the mini bar and consulted the tariff.. "How can they possible justify charging that for water?"

"So why not just get some from the tap in the bathroom?" Richie sank onto the couch and closed his eyes.

"Because you won't drink it."

Richie cracked open an eye. "I didn't ask for any water."

"Well you're getting some anyway." Methos searched for a glass.

"Why won't I drink tap water?"

"How should I know? You say its tastes funny."

Richie pulled himself up to accept the glass that Methos gave him. "You gave me tap water before." he pointed out.

"I know. I was taking advantage of you because you were sick." Methos looked down at him. "I wasn't going to pay these prices if you were just going to throw it all back up again."

"Gee. Thanks." Richie sipped, the water helped a bit.

"Headache?"

"Some." Richie admitted quietly.

Methos crouched down in front of him and carefully tilted his eyes into the light.

"Anything else? Any nausea or dia.."

"No!" Richie pushed his hand away. "Man. You really did used to be a Doctor didn't you?"

"Once or twice." Methos sat back. "I think you need to get some sleep."

"That's your diagnosis? Are you sure you don't want to break out the animal entrails? Just to be sure?"

"Now you're getting cranky." Methos said with a perfectly innocent expression. "You need a nap."

Richie's response made it clear that his Polish, was every bit as good as he had said it was.

"That isn't anatomically possible." Methos informed him.

"Have you tried?" Richie suddenly looked interested.

Methos bit back a grin. Richie's mercurial attention span was one of the things he liked best about the kid. It kept life interesting.

"Richie. It's very late. You've had a rough week, you are clearly not well, and you are a bit out of practise at being sick. I really think that you need to get some sleep."

"Well. If you put it like that." Richie passed Methos his empty glass and made his, slightly unsteady, way towards the bathroom.

"Do you need any help?" Methos called, just to be mean.

"I still know how to use my sword you know." Richie's voice drifted back.

Methos grinned and rummaged in the mini bar for another can. It might have ridiculous prices but it also had beer. Another scout around turned up his paperback book. As he settled into one of the armchairs his gaze fell on the blade by Richie's bed. "Except, that's not your sword is it?" he mused thoughtfully.

****

Richie slept fitfully, tossing and turning in his sleep. When he woke his colour was much better. He said his head didn't hurt and Methos pretended to believe him.

"So, who's Joe?" Richie said tearing a croissant between his fingers.

"He's a friend and …." Methos paused.

"And?" Richie prodded.

"And a Watcher."

"Yours or mine?" Richie looked up.

"Neither." Methos shook his head. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Probably not." Richie sighed and pushed his plate away.

Methos pushed it back. "You need to eat."

"Its not like I can starve to death." Richie pointed out.

"Ever tried it?" Methos baited.

Richie decided not to dignify that with an answer. Especially since he didn't actually know.

"Trust me." Methos pushed the plate back. "You won't like it. So, be a good little Immortal and eat."

Richie made a face at him, but put one of the pieces of croissant in his mouth and chewed.

"So awr yoo goin tha call hmn ?" Richie mumbled.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." Methos said absently. "And, no I'm not going to call him."

"Why not?"

"Because." Methos looked smug. "I already did."

"Let me guess." Richie rolled his eyes. "Whilst I was in the shower."

"See. You can remember things."

****

Given the late hours that he kept at the bar, Joe had not been pleased to best pleased to hear from Methos so early.

"You woke me up at this hour to ask me about Richie's sword?" his irritation came clearly down the phone line.

"Yes. I'm at the Mistrale. Can you bring it over?"

"Can I …?" Joe spluttered. "No. Damn it. I cannot bring it over."

"Joe. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

The silence on the other end of the line was almost deafening.

"You know something, don't you?" Joe said slowly.

Methos decided to forego the obvious answer. "Joe. Just bring the sword please. I'll explain when you get here."

"Is Richie alright?" Joe asked with sudden insight.

"Joe .."

"Is he ..?" Joe's tone was like steel.

"I wish I knew." Methos told him truthfully. "Are you coming or not?"

"Alright." Joe sighed. "But you owe me."

"Oh and Joe ..?" Methos caught him before he could hang up. "Bring some painkillers will you .. and beer."

"Painkillers?" Joe frowned at the telephone.

"And beer." Methos repeated firmly.

***

"This is a bit fancy for Adam Pierson isn't it?" Joe looked around the room.

"He's practising for his next life as a millionaire playboy." Richie commented dryly from behind him.

"Richie!" Joe exclaimed. "You're alive!" he hugged him tightly.

"Hey  um .. " Richie patted his back awkwardly and shot a panicked glance at Methos.

Joe Methos mouthed.

"Right. Yeah. Joe." Richie affirmed.

"Oh boy. Are you a sight for sore eyes." Joe held Richie at arm's length. "Are you OK? Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea how worried we've been? We thought you were dead."

"Why do people keep saying that? Didn't anyone think I could take this guy?" Richie complained.

"I did." Methos popped a beer. "So did Macloed, come to that."

"You know you don't look so good, Rich." Joe realised.

"How many more times?" Richie threw up his hands. "I'm fine. Geez I thought I was supposed to be the one with the memory problem."

"Memory problem?" Joe frowned. "What memory problem?"