***Burdened Hearts---Present Day***
"Duncan." Tessa's tone told him that, while amused, she was reaching the end of her patience about being brushed off.
He once again managed to stand still and turned to face the Frenchwoman.
"He's going to be fine." She repeated. "What is wrong with you?"
"He could've been killed." He finally replied, not wanting to actually say it aloud. Richie could have been killed. Just the thought of it shook him to his very core. "And he couldn't count on me. I failed him"
As she wrapped her arms around his waist, he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep the emotions inside any longer. There was just something about Tessa that made it impossible to keep his feelings to himself, no matter how hard he tried.
"You couldn't have known." Tessa told him softly. "He's fine. You can start breathing again." Her intuition never ceased to amaze him. Her ability to recognize his lingering fear was unbelievable. And one of the reasons he loved her.
She was right, of course. There was no way he could have anticipated that Richie was in danger.
And according to all good reason, he could relax. There were no grounds for worrying about Richie's future. The injuries weren't permanent and he knew with every fiber in his being that the boy would be well cared for. He would see to that personally. The only consequence of Richie's failure to tell them about the attack was a few unnecessary hours of pain for the boy and those were now over. Only two rooms away, Richie was safely tucked into bed.
But just because he knew in his head didn't mean that his heart would listen. As soon as he found out that Richie was injured, his heart stopped hearing all reason. Only when Richie was fully recovered would that particular appendage be able to process logic again.
Tessa's voice interrupted his thoughts. "He's been there dozens of times, Duncan. It's always been perfectly safe. You have to stop feeling guilty about letting him go. You didn't cause this."
"I know, Tess. That isn't it." He told her softly.
"Then what is it?" She questioned as she pulled him even closer. "How can you blame yourself for this?"
He shook his head impatiently at the question, moved her back to arm's length and looked her in the eye. "The injury isn't the issue."
Before she could argue, he quickly amended the statement. "Yes, I'm upset he's hurt but I know that wasn't my doing. It's the secrecy that I can't handle."
He stepped away from her now, finally voicing the failure that filled him with guilt. "I've tried so damn hard, Tessa. I've always protected him. Taken care of him. From day one all I've ever tried to do was show him he could depend on me. But even after everything, he still didn't come to me with this. Why can't I get him to trust me?"
***Flashback---Duncan's perspective***
"A bee sting?" Duncan skeptically repeated. "What about the scratches?"
At this the doctor looked towards the boy, apparently preferring the young man explain for himself.
"When I realized I was stung I sorta panicked." The teen mumbled softly.
"Panicked?" Duncan repeated in a tone that made it quite clear that he was going to require more explanation.
The child sighed and remained silent under Duncan's gaze for a few moments before he finally elaborated. "I knew the stinger had to come out so I pulled out my pocket knife." He shrugged before adding defensively. "I was upset, okay?"
"So you sliced yourself up trying to get it out." It wasn't really a question. The picture had become perfectly clear to Duncan.
"Yeah, and it hurt like hell, so if you don't mind." The boy looked at him expectantly.
But Duncan was at a loss as to what he wasn't to mind. "What?" He finally asked.
"I'd like to keep the other hand." The teen shot back.
Now he was getting really frustrated. "What are you talking about?"
"Ease up, man." Richie gritted out.
Duncan immediately loosened his grip on the boy. He had no idea how hard he had started squeezing the boy's good hand when Richie told him that the cuts were self-inflicted. The instinct to cling to him tighter when he realized how frightened the child had been was subconscious.
Come to think of it, the desire to cling to him at all had been subconscious. Duncan began to wonder when he had grasped the boy's hand to begin with and why it was that he felt compelled to only loosen his hold on the child and not release it entirely.
But these questions were forgotten as soon as the doctor approached them holding a large needle.
"What is it?" Duncan questioned.
"Kenalog." The doctor replied as he reached out for Richie's injured hand. "One shot of this and Richie will be as good as new."
But Duncan wasn't convinced that easily. "Side effects?" He questioned, gently moving the hand away from the doctor before he could administer the injection.
Annoyed, the doctor replied. "Well, he will bruise more easily for awhile. And injuries will take a bit longer to heal. That's a guarantee. But other than that, side effects are uncommon."
"But include?" Duncan responded, still shielding the hand.
"Very rarely there is nausea, diarrhea or vomiting. If anything, he'll be a bit tired and weak. Possibly dizzy. But it won't last long." The doctor tried to reassure.
"Do you have any side effects?" He turned to the boy finally.
But the response was too quick. "Nope."
"Richie." He said in a tone that made the child tremor slightly.
"Tired and weak." He replied quickly. "And sorta dizzy."
"That's it?" Duncan probed.
"I swear."
The Immortal was still unconvinced. "I'm not sure this is a good idea."
But the doctor was. "Mr. MacLeod, if Richie doesn't get this medication, he will end up with permanent tissue damage. And that's the best-case scenario. I'll give him the shot and you can take him home and tuck him into bed. A good night's sleep will be all he needs."
Duncan simply nodded and released Richie's injured hand. As the doctor stuck the needle in the most swollen area, Duncan felt the boy's good hand begin to squeeze his fiercely. He moved his free hand to the back of the boy's neck and massaged it. It was minutes after the doctor had finished his work and left the nurse in his place before the child opened his eyes again.
Duncan helped him off the table and smiled at the nurse as he led the teenager towards the doorway. "Let's get you back to the house."
Richie stopped in the middle of the hallway. "I'm not going home with you."
"Oh, yes, you are." Duncan told him flatly.
But Richie was stubborn. "What the hell for?"
"For the night, at the very least." Duncan retorted. "Look, you're hurt. We'll take you home, tuck you into bed and figure everything else out in the morning."
"How do I know you won't chop my head off in my sleep?" The teen questioned, only half-joking.
"If that was my intent, do you really think you'd still be standing here?"
When he got no response, Duncan continued. "You're just going to have to learn to trust me."
"Duncan." Tessa's tone told him that, while amused, she was reaching the end of her patience about being brushed off.
He once again managed to stand still and turned to face the Frenchwoman.
"He's going to be fine." She repeated. "What is wrong with you?"
"He could've been killed." He finally replied, not wanting to actually say it aloud. Richie could have been killed. Just the thought of it shook him to his very core. "And he couldn't count on me. I failed him"
As she wrapped her arms around his waist, he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep the emotions inside any longer. There was just something about Tessa that made it impossible to keep his feelings to himself, no matter how hard he tried.
"You couldn't have known." Tessa told him softly. "He's fine. You can start breathing again." Her intuition never ceased to amaze him. Her ability to recognize his lingering fear was unbelievable. And one of the reasons he loved her.
She was right, of course. There was no way he could have anticipated that Richie was in danger.
And according to all good reason, he could relax. There were no grounds for worrying about Richie's future. The injuries weren't permanent and he knew with every fiber in his being that the boy would be well cared for. He would see to that personally. The only consequence of Richie's failure to tell them about the attack was a few unnecessary hours of pain for the boy and those were now over. Only two rooms away, Richie was safely tucked into bed.
But just because he knew in his head didn't mean that his heart would listen. As soon as he found out that Richie was injured, his heart stopped hearing all reason. Only when Richie was fully recovered would that particular appendage be able to process logic again.
Tessa's voice interrupted his thoughts. "He's been there dozens of times, Duncan. It's always been perfectly safe. You have to stop feeling guilty about letting him go. You didn't cause this."
"I know, Tess. That isn't it." He told her softly.
"Then what is it?" She questioned as she pulled him even closer. "How can you blame yourself for this?"
He shook his head impatiently at the question, moved her back to arm's length and looked her in the eye. "The injury isn't the issue."
Before she could argue, he quickly amended the statement. "Yes, I'm upset he's hurt but I know that wasn't my doing. It's the secrecy that I can't handle."
He stepped away from her now, finally voicing the failure that filled him with guilt. "I've tried so damn hard, Tessa. I've always protected him. Taken care of him. From day one all I've ever tried to do was show him he could depend on me. But even after everything, he still didn't come to me with this. Why can't I get him to trust me?"
***Flashback---Duncan's perspective***
"A bee sting?" Duncan skeptically repeated. "What about the scratches?"
At this the doctor looked towards the boy, apparently preferring the young man explain for himself.
"When I realized I was stung I sorta panicked." The teen mumbled softly.
"Panicked?" Duncan repeated in a tone that made it quite clear that he was going to require more explanation.
The child sighed and remained silent under Duncan's gaze for a few moments before he finally elaborated. "I knew the stinger had to come out so I pulled out my pocket knife." He shrugged before adding defensively. "I was upset, okay?"
"So you sliced yourself up trying to get it out." It wasn't really a question. The picture had become perfectly clear to Duncan.
"Yeah, and it hurt like hell, so if you don't mind." The boy looked at him expectantly.
But Duncan was at a loss as to what he wasn't to mind. "What?" He finally asked.
"I'd like to keep the other hand." The teen shot back.
Now he was getting really frustrated. "What are you talking about?"
"Ease up, man." Richie gritted out.
Duncan immediately loosened his grip on the boy. He had no idea how hard he had started squeezing the boy's good hand when Richie told him that the cuts were self-inflicted. The instinct to cling to him tighter when he realized how frightened the child had been was subconscious.
Come to think of it, the desire to cling to him at all had been subconscious. Duncan began to wonder when he had grasped the boy's hand to begin with and why it was that he felt compelled to only loosen his hold on the child and not release it entirely.
But these questions were forgotten as soon as the doctor approached them holding a large needle.
"What is it?" Duncan questioned.
"Kenalog." The doctor replied as he reached out for Richie's injured hand. "One shot of this and Richie will be as good as new."
But Duncan wasn't convinced that easily. "Side effects?" He questioned, gently moving the hand away from the doctor before he could administer the injection.
Annoyed, the doctor replied. "Well, he will bruise more easily for awhile. And injuries will take a bit longer to heal. That's a guarantee. But other than that, side effects are uncommon."
"But include?" Duncan responded, still shielding the hand.
"Very rarely there is nausea, diarrhea or vomiting. If anything, he'll be a bit tired and weak. Possibly dizzy. But it won't last long." The doctor tried to reassure.
"Do you have any side effects?" He turned to the boy finally.
But the response was too quick. "Nope."
"Richie." He said in a tone that made the child tremor slightly.
"Tired and weak." He replied quickly. "And sorta dizzy."
"That's it?" Duncan probed.
"I swear."
The Immortal was still unconvinced. "I'm not sure this is a good idea."
But the doctor was. "Mr. MacLeod, if Richie doesn't get this medication, he will end up with permanent tissue damage. And that's the best-case scenario. I'll give him the shot and you can take him home and tuck him into bed. A good night's sleep will be all he needs."
Duncan simply nodded and released Richie's injured hand. As the doctor stuck the needle in the most swollen area, Duncan felt the boy's good hand begin to squeeze his fiercely. He moved his free hand to the back of the boy's neck and massaged it. It was minutes after the doctor had finished his work and left the nurse in his place before the child opened his eyes again.
Duncan helped him off the table and smiled at the nurse as he led the teenager towards the doorway. "Let's get you back to the house."
Richie stopped in the middle of the hallway. "I'm not going home with you."
"Oh, yes, you are." Duncan told him flatly.
But Richie was stubborn. "What the hell for?"
"For the night, at the very least." Duncan retorted. "Look, you're hurt. We'll take you home, tuck you into bed and figure everything else out in the morning."
"How do I know you won't chop my head off in my sleep?" The teen questioned, only half-joking.
"If that was my intent, do you really think you'd still be standing here?"
When he got no response, Duncan continued. "You're just going to have to learn to trust me."
