***Fearful Failures---Present Day***
What was wrong with her? 'You weren't home.' Tessa knew full well that he would have been there in seconds if Richie had just called him.
"He should've called and you know it."
She once again neared the agitated man and attempted to relax him by wrapping her arms around his waist. "Of course he should have."
This response only elicited a sigh from Duncan. "If you know that and I know that, why doesn't he?"
"He does." She replied flatly. "But with Richie, logic doesn't always rule. He let fear get the better of him."
"What does he have to be afraid of?" Once again, Duncan pulled back from her.
Tessa looked up at him, sadness in her eyes. "Failure."
"He was attacked, Tessa. Robbed. How is that failing?" The very idea of it infuriated him.
Then Tessa's response threw him. "You wouldn't have given up the money."
"Probably not." He allowed, more out of shock at the idea of it than agreement that it was true. "But Richie isn't me."
"Exactly." Tessa replied quietly.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Richie worships you, Duncan. He wants to be like you; believes it's what you expect, too. He thinks he disappointed you." Tessa was truly amazed that her sensitive, protective lover couldn't see for himself what was so painfully obvious to her.
"Disappointed me? Of course he disappointed me." Duncan responded in anger.
Tessa was floored. She couldn't even piece together what she wanted to say. "What? Mac, how can you? What was he?"
"Damn right he disappointed me. Richie should know by now what I expect from him."
***Flashback---Duncan's perspective***
"Honestly?" He questioned, still skeptical.
"Damn, how many times do I have to say it? I'm fine, man." Richie replied irritably.
Duncan sighed. Now that Richie was up he was attempting to return to his original plan of communicating with the boy but it was considerably harder. Nearly a full day had passed and a good deal of the shock surrounding the situation had worn off. He was going to have to deal with the entire breadth of Richie's attitude at once.
"Watch your language."
"Or what?"
Duncan counted to ten. Then he tried again in French. Then Polish.
It was all he could do to keep himself from going off on this boy. He needed to keep his cool if this was going to work.
"Try me."
He suppressed a smirked. Apparently, Richie's fear of him hadn't entirely worn off. It probably wouldn't help him get the boy to trust him but, for now, it was useful in keeping the teen under control. The arguing stopped immediately.
"You're not at all dizzy?" He started his questioning again.
And was happy when Richie's responses seemed much more sincere. "No."
"Nauseous?"
"No."
"Tired?"
"No."
"How's the hand?"
The pause lasted a second or so too long.
"Fine."
"Richie." Duncan surprised himself at the warning note he so easily managed to incorporate into his tone.
"All right, so it's still sore. But really it's a lot better." The boy relented much sooner than Duncan had expected.
He also surprised the Immortal by allowing him to examine the hand, even if he did flinch it back slightly at first.
"Where the shot was or the scrapes are?" Duncan asked, carefully running his thumb up and down the back of the injured appendage.
"Where the stinger was actually, but it really is getting better." The teen replied in a tone that, to Duncan's relief, seemed neither deceptive nor confrontational.
He decided to take the boy's word for it. "Alright, let's get some lunch then."
As Richie began to gratefully climb out of the bed, Duncan stopped him though. "You're word that you'll tell me if it doesn't continue getting better."
The boy looked as though he was about to protest for a moment but simply responded with, "Agreed."
The uneasy truce lasted all the way through lunch, to Duncan's great surprise. And then through dinner. It was not until nighttime fell that the inevitable confrontation occurred.
The Scotsman looked up from his magazine when Richie flipped off the television and rose from the couch.
"Bored?"
He was surprised to see how uncomfortable the boy looked. Only minutes earlier he had seemed relaxed, staring intently at the television.
"It's getting late." Richie responded, not really acknowledging the question.
Duncan decided to let the teen lead the conversation's direction. "I guess."
"So." The tone was too hesitant and the pause too long. "Thanks."
He smiled, relieved that awkwardness over expressing gratitude was all that was bothering Richie. "Your welcome."
When the boy started to walk out of the room, he was a bit thrown. "Where're you headed?"
"Home."
Ahh. Duncan understood the full implication of the thanks.
"Where's that?" He decided to keep things casual as long as possible.
But the calm, even tone didn't really help. "What's it to you?"
Duncan shrugged. "Maybe I want to know where to send your doctor's bill."
"Oh." Richie blushed. "Look, I'll pay you back. I just need a couple of days."
"Of course. I'm not worried." Duncan replied nonchalantly. "Why don't you just give me the address and I'll mail your parents the bill?"
Richie turned bright red. "I'm sort of between addresses right now. Could I just stop by in a couple of days and pick it up?"
"I'm afraid I'm going to need an address."
Now the boy just looked downright frightened. "Or what?"
"Or you'll just have to use this one."
"Say what?" The teen certainly hadn't expected that as a consequence.
But Duncan already knew he would be shocked. "If you don't have an address, I guess you're stuck with this one."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Richie was entirely on the defensive now.
But Duncan had no intention of backing down. After watching Richie toss and turn in his sleep for hours, Tessa was even more resolute than he was. Richie was not leaving their home until a parent came to claim him or he turned 21. Since Duncan already knew the boy was an orphan, it didn't look like he was leaving anytime soon.
"Didn't we already discuss your language?" He asked flatly.
"Fine. What the heck are you talking about?" Richie retorted.
"Unless you can convince me there is someone taking care of you, you're stuck with Tessa and I." Duncan replied. "Oh, and keep in mind that I've had four hundred years of practice deciphering lies."
"Why?"
The question momentarily confused Duncan. "Why what?"
"Why would I stay here?" Richie replied.
Duncan paused for a moment to think about that one. He considered trying to reason with him. Maybe he should explain the advantages. Or the dangers that awaited Richie on the streets. "You're a kid."
"So?" Richie replied.
"I'm an adult."
"And?"
"And I said so."
"Wonderful." Richie replied. "That is terrific logic."
"Look, you'll be safe here." Duncan explained.
But that probably wasn't the best argument to use on someone who had watched him chop a head off. "Ya think?"
"I know." Duncan replied firmly. "Look, you can trust us. We want to help you."
"What would I do here?" The question pleased and surprised Duncan. It showed that Richie was already considering the idea. He had thought it would take a lot longer to reach that point.
"Sleep. Eat. Help out in the store if you want. Go to school. Anything really, within reason. We can figure it out as we go."
"And what do you get out of it?" Richie questioned suspiciously.
But Duncan had his answer well prepared for that particular question. "You."
"Me? And what, exactly, are you planning to do once you have me?" The teen hadn't taken the response in the manner Duncan had meant it.
He needed to correct that misunderstanding immediately. "Help you, Richie. Just help you. Nothing else." He said adamantly.
But Richie apparently had lived through enough to be skeptical. "So what, exactly, would my 'job' be?"
"Being a teenager." Duncan replied quickly. He had contemplated saying child, but thought better of it before the word was out of his mouth.
Richie, unfortunately, wasn't entirely convinced his true motivations were pure yet. "And the expectations for that job would include?"
Duncan had to think about that one for a minute. He quickly decided that they could get into rules later; Richie wasn't looking for details. Trust, honesty and respect would have to come with time. He was going to earn those. He knew he couldn't just demand them. He looked over at Richie. The teen was cocky. He took unnecessary risks with his health, his life and his head. Suddenly, he could only think of one thing he wanted the boy to do. "Stay alive."
What was wrong with her? 'You weren't home.' Tessa knew full well that he would have been there in seconds if Richie had just called him.
"He should've called and you know it."
She once again neared the agitated man and attempted to relax him by wrapping her arms around his waist. "Of course he should have."
This response only elicited a sigh from Duncan. "If you know that and I know that, why doesn't he?"
"He does." She replied flatly. "But with Richie, logic doesn't always rule. He let fear get the better of him."
"What does he have to be afraid of?" Once again, Duncan pulled back from her.
Tessa looked up at him, sadness in her eyes. "Failure."
"He was attacked, Tessa. Robbed. How is that failing?" The very idea of it infuriated him.
Then Tessa's response threw him. "You wouldn't have given up the money."
"Probably not." He allowed, more out of shock at the idea of it than agreement that it was true. "But Richie isn't me."
"Exactly." Tessa replied quietly.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Richie worships you, Duncan. He wants to be like you; believes it's what you expect, too. He thinks he disappointed you." Tessa was truly amazed that her sensitive, protective lover couldn't see for himself what was so painfully obvious to her.
"Disappointed me? Of course he disappointed me." Duncan responded in anger.
Tessa was floored. She couldn't even piece together what she wanted to say. "What? Mac, how can you? What was he?"
"Damn right he disappointed me. Richie should know by now what I expect from him."
***Flashback---Duncan's perspective***
"Honestly?" He questioned, still skeptical.
"Damn, how many times do I have to say it? I'm fine, man." Richie replied irritably.
Duncan sighed. Now that Richie was up he was attempting to return to his original plan of communicating with the boy but it was considerably harder. Nearly a full day had passed and a good deal of the shock surrounding the situation had worn off. He was going to have to deal with the entire breadth of Richie's attitude at once.
"Watch your language."
"Or what?"
Duncan counted to ten. Then he tried again in French. Then Polish.
It was all he could do to keep himself from going off on this boy. He needed to keep his cool if this was going to work.
"Try me."
He suppressed a smirked. Apparently, Richie's fear of him hadn't entirely worn off. It probably wouldn't help him get the boy to trust him but, for now, it was useful in keeping the teen under control. The arguing stopped immediately.
"You're not at all dizzy?" He started his questioning again.
And was happy when Richie's responses seemed much more sincere. "No."
"Nauseous?"
"No."
"Tired?"
"No."
"How's the hand?"
The pause lasted a second or so too long.
"Fine."
"Richie." Duncan surprised himself at the warning note he so easily managed to incorporate into his tone.
"All right, so it's still sore. But really it's a lot better." The boy relented much sooner than Duncan had expected.
He also surprised the Immortal by allowing him to examine the hand, even if he did flinch it back slightly at first.
"Where the shot was or the scrapes are?" Duncan asked, carefully running his thumb up and down the back of the injured appendage.
"Where the stinger was actually, but it really is getting better." The teen replied in a tone that, to Duncan's relief, seemed neither deceptive nor confrontational.
He decided to take the boy's word for it. "Alright, let's get some lunch then."
As Richie began to gratefully climb out of the bed, Duncan stopped him though. "You're word that you'll tell me if it doesn't continue getting better."
The boy looked as though he was about to protest for a moment but simply responded with, "Agreed."
The uneasy truce lasted all the way through lunch, to Duncan's great surprise. And then through dinner. It was not until nighttime fell that the inevitable confrontation occurred.
The Scotsman looked up from his magazine when Richie flipped off the television and rose from the couch.
"Bored?"
He was surprised to see how uncomfortable the boy looked. Only minutes earlier he had seemed relaxed, staring intently at the television.
"It's getting late." Richie responded, not really acknowledging the question.
Duncan decided to let the teen lead the conversation's direction. "I guess."
"So." The tone was too hesitant and the pause too long. "Thanks."
He smiled, relieved that awkwardness over expressing gratitude was all that was bothering Richie. "Your welcome."
When the boy started to walk out of the room, he was a bit thrown. "Where're you headed?"
"Home."
Ahh. Duncan understood the full implication of the thanks.
"Where's that?" He decided to keep things casual as long as possible.
But the calm, even tone didn't really help. "What's it to you?"
Duncan shrugged. "Maybe I want to know where to send your doctor's bill."
"Oh." Richie blushed. "Look, I'll pay you back. I just need a couple of days."
"Of course. I'm not worried." Duncan replied nonchalantly. "Why don't you just give me the address and I'll mail your parents the bill?"
Richie turned bright red. "I'm sort of between addresses right now. Could I just stop by in a couple of days and pick it up?"
"I'm afraid I'm going to need an address."
Now the boy just looked downright frightened. "Or what?"
"Or you'll just have to use this one."
"Say what?" The teen certainly hadn't expected that as a consequence.
But Duncan already knew he would be shocked. "If you don't have an address, I guess you're stuck with this one."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Richie was entirely on the defensive now.
But Duncan had no intention of backing down. After watching Richie toss and turn in his sleep for hours, Tessa was even more resolute than he was. Richie was not leaving their home until a parent came to claim him or he turned 21. Since Duncan already knew the boy was an orphan, it didn't look like he was leaving anytime soon.
"Didn't we already discuss your language?" He asked flatly.
"Fine. What the heck are you talking about?" Richie retorted.
"Unless you can convince me there is someone taking care of you, you're stuck with Tessa and I." Duncan replied. "Oh, and keep in mind that I've had four hundred years of practice deciphering lies."
"Why?"
The question momentarily confused Duncan. "Why what?"
"Why would I stay here?" Richie replied.
Duncan paused for a moment to think about that one. He considered trying to reason with him. Maybe he should explain the advantages. Or the dangers that awaited Richie on the streets. "You're a kid."
"So?" Richie replied.
"I'm an adult."
"And?"
"And I said so."
"Wonderful." Richie replied. "That is terrific logic."
"Look, you'll be safe here." Duncan explained.
But that probably wasn't the best argument to use on someone who had watched him chop a head off. "Ya think?"
"I know." Duncan replied firmly. "Look, you can trust us. We want to help you."
"What would I do here?" The question pleased and surprised Duncan. It showed that Richie was already considering the idea. He had thought it would take a lot longer to reach that point.
"Sleep. Eat. Help out in the store if you want. Go to school. Anything really, within reason. We can figure it out as we go."
"And what do you get out of it?" Richie questioned suspiciously.
But Duncan had his answer well prepared for that particular question. "You."
"Me? And what, exactly, are you planning to do once you have me?" The teen hadn't taken the response in the manner Duncan had meant it.
He needed to correct that misunderstanding immediately. "Help you, Richie. Just help you. Nothing else." He said adamantly.
But Richie apparently had lived through enough to be skeptical. "So what, exactly, would my 'job' be?"
"Being a teenager." Duncan replied quickly. He had contemplated saying child, but thought better of it before the word was out of his mouth.
Richie, unfortunately, wasn't entirely convinced his true motivations were pure yet. "And the expectations for that job would include?"
Duncan had to think about that one for a minute. He quickly decided that they could get into rules later; Richie wasn't looking for details. Trust, honesty and respect would have to come with time. He was going to earn those. He knew he couldn't just demand them. He looked over at Richie. The teen was cocky. He took unnecessary risks with his health, his life and his head. Suddenly, he could only think of one thing he wanted the boy to do. "Stay alive."
