"How could you?" Joe fumed. "You know how worried Mac has been."
"This isn't about him." Methos shot back.
"The hell it isn't .." Joe raised his voice. "Damn it Methos. He's not eating, he's barely sleeping, at this rate he's going to loose his head."
"Um. Hello?" Richie put in. "I though you said Macleod figured I could take this guy?"
"What does that have to do with it?" Joe demanded.
"Well, if he thinks I'm OK, he shouldn't be worried." Richie pointed out.
"You really don't remember anything do you?" Joe sighed.
"Mac worries." Methos explained. "Its what he does. Especially about you."
"Excuse me?" Richie scowled. "I can't be that bad with a sword. I'm alive aren't I?"
"Richie." Joe rolled his eyes as if this was an old conversation. "It has nothing to do with how good you are or how old you are .. Mac loves you, of course he worries."
"You make him sound like my Dad or something." Richie scoffed.
"Well, in a way he is." Joe shrugged. "You remember when you first met him?"
"Why do people keep asking me stuff like that?" Richie complained.
"Joe, I don't think this is a good idea." Methos warned. "You can't just tell him .."
"Have you tried?" Joe challenged.
"We don't know what will happen."
"Um. Let's see. He might remember?"
"Yeah." Richie agreed with a grin. "Amanda helped me remember lots of things."
"And then you got sick." Methos reminded him pointedly.
"Amanda knows?" Joe gawped. "How the hell did you get her to keep that from Macleod?"
"Blackmail." Methos shrugged.
"Figures." Joe shook his head. "Richie, look at your right arm. Just above your wrist."
"Hey, I have a scar!" Richie announced peering at his arm. "That means it happened before I became Immortal, right?"
"Well, what do you know." Joe looked mischievously at Methos. "A physical link. You said he can cope with stuff if there is a physical link, right?"
"I don't believe this." Methos rolled his eyes. "Don't think I won't say I told you so."
***
"I broke into his store?" Richie's jaw dropped. "Why didn't he just shoot me?"
"The eternal question." Methos murmured. Richie poked him in the ribs to shut him up.
"Anyway." Joe ignored both of them. ".. in the .. um .. heat of the moment .. you offered to pay for the window you damaged."
"I did? I must have been nuts."
"Not really." Joe smiled. "Just really well motivated."
"Except you didn't actually have any money." Methos told him.
"So Mac agreed to let you work off the money by helping in the store room and stuff."
"I try to rob him and he gives me a job?" Richie shook his head.
"Well. You did know quite a lot about Antiques." Methos smirked.
"More to the point he knew you were going to be Immortal one day." Joe added.
"So what? I make a few commissions on the sale of some Venetian glass or something and Daddy Warbucks decides he wants to adopt me?" Richie looked sceptical. "Isn't that kinda weird? He couldn't just have found me some foster parents or sent me to school or something?"
"He was planning to." Methos looked up.
"He was?" Richie asked.
"He was?" Joe looked surprised.
"You haven't been watching." Methos smiled thinly. "Its what we do. Find them a nice, safe, mortal, life so that they don't attract too much attention, before their time. We don't take them in."
"There must have been some .. I mean .. over the centuries."
"Name one." Methos insisted.
"You know so much, you name one." Joe snapped.
"Macleod." Methos looked smug.
"He's the only one?" Richie demanded. "What made him go against centuries of tradition?"
"You did." Methos smiled.
"After you got sick." Joe realised.
"Oh right. Like that's always such an attractive trait .."
"Richie. You almost died." Methos informed him gravely.
***
"I burnt my arm on the manifold?" Richie rubbed at the offending scar. "That's pretty stupid. Didn't anyone ever tell me you have to wait for it to cool down first?"
"You were a little pressed for time." Methos quipped.
"Oh." Richie realised. "Did I get caught?"
"Not that time." Joe smiled.
"So, why didn't I just go to a Clinic or something and get it looked at?"
"You don't like Doctors." Methos' lips quirked.
"Now he tells me." Richie muttered sourly.
"It got inflected pretty fast." Joe gave him a sympathetic smile. "Its kinda hard to keep things clean when you are living on the streets. It wasn't long before you were getting a temperature and your arm was bothering you some."
"He made me work when I was sick?" Richie protested.
"He didn't know." Joe said loyally. "You wore long sleeved T-shirts and told him it was a head cold."
"And he believed me?" Richie scoffed.
"Not even close." Joe smiled. "Did I tell you he was a Medic in World War One?"
"Not another one! Is there like mandatory medical training for Immortal 101 or something? Cos I'm not doing it." he paused "Although, Amanda as a nurse does have a certain appeal." He waggled his eyebrows.
"Sorry Rich." Joe smiled. "The best I can offer is a belly dancer."
Richie bit back a grin. "Thanks Joe, but Amanda is much more my type."
"Do you want to hear this or not." Joe growled.
"Sorry." Richie held up his hands.
"Anyway. Mac put you to work, just light stuff, moving empty boxes, dusting, that kind of thing. Frankly, you looked so thin and pale I wouldn't haven been surprised if a stiff wind had snapped you in two. Mac must have thought so as well .. because he kept feeding you soup and pasta and stuff .. and using the excuse of pizza and a movie or something to keep you back late so you'd have to crash on the couch."
"Why didn't he just make me go to the Doctors?" Richie wondered.
"Maybe because you wouldn't go?" Methos suggested.
"Besides, it was pretty obvious, you were going to be able to hold out for long." Joe observed. "Frankly, I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did. Mac didn't know whether to be proud of your courage or pissed at your stupidity when he realised just how bad it was."
"How did he find out?" Richie asked quietly.
Methos gave him a sharp look. The kid looked .. scared.
Joe didn't appear to notice anything amiss. He grinned. "You were supposed to be dusting some of the things in the stockroom out the back and .. I don't know .. I guess you got dizzy or something and knocked over a vase .. there was this almighty crash .. and when Macleod came running there you were sitting on the floor with these splinters of a thirty thousand dollar vase all around you and .."
" .. he hit me." Richie whispered.
"Richie?" Methos sat up. He was much too pale.
"I broke the vase and he hit me." Richie continued woodenly. "He took off his belt and he hit me."
Methos swore fervently. In the next instant he was kneeling in front of Richie, taking his face in his hands. The skin was cool and clammy. Damn.
"No way." Joe protested. "Mac would never .."
"Not Mac." Methos informed him tersely. Not taking his eyes off the younger Immortal. "Richie, look at me." He commanded gently.
Richie stared at him through unfocused eyes. "He hit me .. over and over .. it hurt so much and there was blood everywhere and I cried and screamed and begged but he just kept hitting me. I was so scared. I thought .. I thought he was going to kill me."
"Richie!" Methos took his chin in his hands and forced him to meet his eyes. "Look at me." He gave the kid a small shake.
Richie gasped, sucking in air with a huge shuddering breath that wracked his whole body. "Oh shit." He shuddered.
"Are you alright?" Methos demanded.
Richie made a sudden retching sound and Methos had only seconds to scoot around to his side before Richie threw up what little remained of his breakfast and collapsed in a boneless heap.
"I guess that answers that question." Methos murmured.
He looked up at Joe. "Now do you see why I didn't want to tell him?"
