***Anticipated Meetings---Present Day***
He had changed his mind. He would now welcome the pacing. For what seemed like hours, but had more likely been a few minutes, there had been only silence. He couldn't even make out any portion of the muffled conversation any longer. He was sore. And bored. And he could no longer handle simply waiting for Duncan to come see him. He had to know what was going on in the world outside his bedroom.
Call it claustrophobia. Call it fear. Call it stupidity.
He eased himself out of the bed slowly and was pleasantly surprised that he managed to get himself in a semi-upright position without an excruciating amount of pain. And of course his luck would have it that only when he had straightened himself fully, and was desperately fighting to keep from screaming out, that Duncan walked into the room.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Duncan was not happy. He crossed the space between them at lightning speed and eased Richie gently back down.
Now somewhat awkwardly positioned sideways on the bed, with his legs sprawled over the edge, Richie attempted to regain his ability to breath before gasping out. "Going for a stroll?"
"I think you've strolled quite enough for one day, don't you?" Duncan replied darkly as he eased Richie's legs back onto the mattress and carefully repositioned the boy.
Richie grimaced. Partly at the movement. Partly at Duncan's tone. "It's not like I planned on getting mugged."
"I know you didn't." Duncan sighed as he pulled the blanket over his young charge. "But your tendency to roam all over creation with a serious injury isn't exactly comforting."
"I wasn't going to leave the house." Richie defended the action Duncan was least concerned about. "I just wanted to see where you and Tessa where."
"You should've just called for us and you know it." Duncan scolded as he gently sat down on the bed next to the boy. "And you know full well that isn't what I meant. What were you thinking, running around town with broken ribs?"
"I couldn't just lie there." Richie knew his defense wouldn't cut it. But he had to try. "I had to get home somehow."
"You should've called me, Richie. You and I both know there are stores all over that neighborhood that would've let you use the phone." Duncan replied as he leaned over to grab the water glass off the bedside table.
The teen reached out to take the glass from Duncan as he responded, "You weren't home."
"Don't even start with that." Duncan fumed as he shooed Richie's hands away and leaned down to lift the boy's head up. "Don't insult my intelligence by acting like I'm going to buy that pathetic argument."
"Yes, sir." Richie mumbled poutily before gratefully gulping the water from the glass Duncan held.
Even before he had finished easing Richie's head back onto the pillow, Duncan found himself asking the one question that had been plaguing him since Tessa had first called to tell him the child was hurt. "Why didn't you call me, Rich?"
"You were busy." Richie shrugged. "I figured I could get home on my own."
"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if you had internal damage? What if you had passed out somewhere and no one came along? What would have happened then? How could you be so foolish?" Duncan was beyond angry; he was terrified at the danger Richie had been in.
And Richie was beyond scared. He was guilty. "I'm sorry, Mac."
"Damn it, Richie." Duncan sighed at the pathetic tone the teen used. As he looked down at the injured boy he loved more than he ever thought was possible, he found his anger giving way to grief. "What do I have to do to get you to trust me?"
"What?" Richie asked, genuinely shocked by the question. He had no idea what trust had to do with his injury.
"You hide this from me, Rich. Why would you try to hide this from me? No matter what, you can always count on me. I thought you would know that by now. What do I have to do to earn your trust?" Duncan subconsciously adjusted the blankets around Richie as he voiced his disappointment that the teen didn't think he could depend on him.
"God, Mac, that isn't true. I trust you with my life." The boy gasped out, horrified at the idea that Duncan thought he had somehow failed.
But the ancient wasn't able to accept Richie's reassurance. "How am I supposed to believe that when you risk your life rather than call me?"
"That had nothing to do with me not trusting you." Richie insisted as he struggled to sit up on his elbows and look the Immortal in the eye.
Duncan immediately laid him back down again and took the boy's left hand in his own. "Then why Richie? For God's sake, just tell me why you would rather walk around in pain than call me."
"It wasn't your problem." Richie finally admitted, pulling his hand out of Duncan's. "You shouldn't have to drop everything in your life just because I can't get across town without trouble."
"You can't really believe that a meeting is more important than you are, can you?" Duncan asked as he grasped the boy's upper arm. He was horrified that the teen might actually believe he was more concerned about a client than him.
Richie wouldn't even look at him anymore. "You shouldn't have to choose. I should be able to take care of myself. You trusted me to make one simple pickup and I totally screw it up. I'm sorry, Mac."
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Duncan got up at that and began pacing back and forth beside the bed. "Do you honestly think I expect you to risk your life over money? You should've given them whatever they wanted."
"I was carrying over $1,000 dollars, Mac." Richie said quietly as he started picking at his bandage.
Duncan stopped pacing and looked down at the boy again. "I don't care if you're carrying a million dollars, Richie! You always give them the money. I never want you to risk your life over money. There's not enough of it in this world to make up for losing you, Rich." With each word his tone shifted noticeably from angry to urgent.
Richie was near tears now. "You wouldn't have given them the money."
"You don't know that, Richie. It would have depended on the situation. I wouldn't risk anyone getting hurt over money. Even the men who were robbing me." Duncan explained. "And I sure as hell wouldn't have risked you. Do you have any idea how much it terrifies me to know that you would put yourself in that much danger? When Tessa told me what happened, I swear my heart stopped. Do you have any idea how terrifying the idea of losing you is?"
"I just didn't want to disappoint you, Mac." He almost whispered it as he fought desperately to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from overflowing. What had he ever done to deserve having someone like this in his life? "I don't want you to think I'm so weak you can't count on me."
"I've never thought you were weak, Rich." Duncan said as he moved Richie's hand away from the bandage. "Needing help doesn't mean your weak. It means your human."
"You never need help." Richie mumbled.
Duncan couldn't help but smile at the naivety of Richie's thinking. "Of course I do, Rich. Maybe it doesn't seem that way, but I do. I've just lived a lot longer than you have. I might not need help as often as you do but that doesn't mean I never need it."
"Right." Richie said quietly, still looking down.
Duncan firmly gripped his chin and forced the boy to look him in the eye. "You should never feel guilty about needing help, Rich. Especially from me."
"Why especially from you?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.
Duncan sighed in response and sat down gently on the edge of the bed. "When are you going to get it, Richie? You're my kid. Taking care of you just comes naturally to me."
***Flashback---Duncan's perspective***
Duncan eased the door open slowly, still concerned from having seen Richie sleeping uneasily earlier that night. As the room came into full view, the smell of sickness made him realize that his concern was not entirely unfounded. No longer quiet about entering, Duncan headed in the direction of the slightly ajar bathroom door.
"Richie?" He called out as he pushed the door open. Immediately, he turned his full attention to the boy. Resting his head against the cool porcelain of the bathtub, a full shade whiter than when Duncan had last laid eyes on him, Richie sat in a ball on the floor. The teen barely acknowledged Duncan's entrance with a low grunt before expelling what little of his dinner still remained in his stomach.
As Duncan proceeded to flush the evidence and run cool water over the washcloth, Richie forced his eyes open. "Hey, Mac."
He said it quietly, still struggling to catch his breath. When the boy didn't resist the Immortal running the washcloth across his face, Duncan knew he must have really been feeling poorly. Concerned and anxious, the Immortal began his questioning. "Was it something I said?"
"Funny." Richie closed his eyes again and sagged lower against the tub.
This hardly eased Duncan's fears. As he reached out and felt the back of the boy's neck, he was even more disturbed. Heat was radiating from him. "Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere." The mumbled response brought a slight smile to Duncan's lips. There had been an occasion or two where he had given that same, vague response to his mother in times long since past.
"Could you be more specific?"
Richie opened his eyes slightly to give the Immortal a pathetic look. "No."
"It's going to be okay. You'll be as good as new before you know it." As Duncan ran his hand up and down Richie's back, hoping to be of some comfort, he found himself pondering the irony of the situation. For the past two weeks he had been impatiently awaiting the time when Richie would let down his tough exterior around him. Now that he was, the Immortal found himself fervently hoping the boy would put it back up. At least that way he would know Richie was all right.
"Okay." Richie's feeble response was not what he had been hoping for.
But at least Richie wasn't being pessimistic. "How about we get you back to bed, hum?"
"I'm okay here." The boy was beginning to form sentences again, Duncan rationalized.
With a few swift moves, Duncan had the teen back in the bedroom and was adjusting the bedding so that the sheets were not twisted around his feet. "More comfortable?"
"Thanks." Richie nodded his reply.
Duncan walked out at that and realized that his reentrance a few moments later startled Richie. Apparently, the boy thought he was just going to be left to suffer in solitude for the rest of the night. Trying to stay positive, he used what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "Open up."
"Huh?" Richie looked up at him, obviously confused.
But Duncan just smiled as he perched himself on the edge of the bed and held the thermometer he had retrieved from Tessa's medicine cabinet out in front of the boy. As Richie looked bewilderedly at him and reached his hand out to take the device, Duncan withdrew it slightly. He repeated his request again. "Open up."
As Richie lay on the bed, silenced by the thermometer, Duncan could feel the boy's inquisitive eyes on his back as he filled a bowl with water and, retrieving a washcloth, glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol, returned to Richie's side. A few minutes after settling his cargo on the bedside stand, the Immortal decided it was time to check the boy's temperature.
Removing the thermometer and moving towards the bathroom for the bright light, Duncan noticed Richie's drooping eyes. As he stood in the doorway, examining the device, he realized that Richie would be asleep within a few minutes if he just kept quiet. The fever was low and Richie hopefully only had a short-term virus. He would probably sleep through the rest of the night and wake up ready for anything. But as he secured the blankets around his patient and began cleaning up the area, the ancient couldn't shake a touch of lingering concern.
Sitting down in the desk chair, watching the boy's gentle breathing, Duncan realized that it would be perfectly fine if he left. As he shifted himself to a more comfortable position and closed his eyes, he knew it was time for him to head back to his own room.
"Mac?"
Duncan blinked and sat up, rubbing his stiff back as he looked over at the bed.
Squinting from the blinding sun, Richie looked at him with a mixture of confusion and hesitant pleasure on his face.
"How're you feeling?" The Immortal questioned as he moved over to sit on the edge of the bed and reached out to feel the teen's forehead.
Richie looked up at him, not flinching away in the least from the hand. "Better. Have you been here all night?"
"Uh huh." Duncan replied nonplussed. He quickly recouped. "Define better."
"I'm kinda worn out, but I don't feel sick." Richie explained. "You really stayed with me all night?" The child was apparently more interested in discussing Duncan's sleeping arrangements than his own health.
Duncan relented to the change in topic. "Yep."
"You stayed with me because I was sick?" The boy wanted to be clear.
The Immortal smiled at the hint of joy he detected in the question. "Of course."
"I wasn't that sick. Why would you stay?" Richie continued questioning.
The ancient smiled at him broadly. "It seemed like the right thing to do at the time." Getting up off the bed and heading towards the door, Duncan paused briefly. "Brush your teeth before you come out."
He had changed his mind. He would now welcome the pacing. For what seemed like hours, but had more likely been a few minutes, there had been only silence. He couldn't even make out any portion of the muffled conversation any longer. He was sore. And bored. And he could no longer handle simply waiting for Duncan to come see him. He had to know what was going on in the world outside his bedroom.
Call it claustrophobia. Call it fear. Call it stupidity.
He eased himself out of the bed slowly and was pleasantly surprised that he managed to get himself in a semi-upright position without an excruciating amount of pain. And of course his luck would have it that only when he had straightened himself fully, and was desperately fighting to keep from screaming out, that Duncan walked into the room.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Duncan was not happy. He crossed the space between them at lightning speed and eased Richie gently back down.
Now somewhat awkwardly positioned sideways on the bed, with his legs sprawled over the edge, Richie attempted to regain his ability to breath before gasping out. "Going for a stroll?"
"I think you've strolled quite enough for one day, don't you?" Duncan replied darkly as he eased Richie's legs back onto the mattress and carefully repositioned the boy.
Richie grimaced. Partly at the movement. Partly at Duncan's tone. "It's not like I planned on getting mugged."
"I know you didn't." Duncan sighed as he pulled the blanket over his young charge. "But your tendency to roam all over creation with a serious injury isn't exactly comforting."
"I wasn't going to leave the house." Richie defended the action Duncan was least concerned about. "I just wanted to see where you and Tessa where."
"You should've just called for us and you know it." Duncan scolded as he gently sat down on the bed next to the boy. "And you know full well that isn't what I meant. What were you thinking, running around town with broken ribs?"
"I couldn't just lie there." Richie knew his defense wouldn't cut it. But he had to try. "I had to get home somehow."
"You should've called me, Richie. You and I both know there are stores all over that neighborhood that would've let you use the phone." Duncan replied as he leaned over to grab the water glass off the bedside table.
The teen reached out to take the glass from Duncan as he responded, "You weren't home."
"Don't even start with that." Duncan fumed as he shooed Richie's hands away and leaned down to lift the boy's head up. "Don't insult my intelligence by acting like I'm going to buy that pathetic argument."
"Yes, sir." Richie mumbled poutily before gratefully gulping the water from the glass Duncan held.
Even before he had finished easing Richie's head back onto the pillow, Duncan found himself asking the one question that had been plaguing him since Tessa had first called to tell him the child was hurt. "Why didn't you call me, Rich?"
"You were busy." Richie shrugged. "I figured I could get home on my own."
"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? What if you had internal damage? What if you had passed out somewhere and no one came along? What would have happened then? How could you be so foolish?" Duncan was beyond angry; he was terrified at the danger Richie had been in.
And Richie was beyond scared. He was guilty. "I'm sorry, Mac."
"Damn it, Richie." Duncan sighed at the pathetic tone the teen used. As he looked down at the injured boy he loved more than he ever thought was possible, he found his anger giving way to grief. "What do I have to do to get you to trust me?"
"What?" Richie asked, genuinely shocked by the question. He had no idea what trust had to do with his injury.
"You hide this from me, Rich. Why would you try to hide this from me? No matter what, you can always count on me. I thought you would know that by now. What do I have to do to earn your trust?" Duncan subconsciously adjusted the blankets around Richie as he voiced his disappointment that the teen didn't think he could depend on him.
"God, Mac, that isn't true. I trust you with my life." The boy gasped out, horrified at the idea that Duncan thought he had somehow failed.
But the ancient wasn't able to accept Richie's reassurance. "How am I supposed to believe that when you risk your life rather than call me?"
"That had nothing to do with me not trusting you." Richie insisted as he struggled to sit up on his elbows and look the Immortal in the eye.
Duncan immediately laid him back down again and took the boy's left hand in his own. "Then why Richie? For God's sake, just tell me why you would rather walk around in pain than call me."
"It wasn't your problem." Richie finally admitted, pulling his hand out of Duncan's. "You shouldn't have to drop everything in your life just because I can't get across town without trouble."
"You can't really believe that a meeting is more important than you are, can you?" Duncan asked as he grasped the boy's upper arm. He was horrified that the teen might actually believe he was more concerned about a client than him.
Richie wouldn't even look at him anymore. "You shouldn't have to choose. I should be able to take care of myself. You trusted me to make one simple pickup and I totally screw it up. I'm sorry, Mac."
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Duncan got up at that and began pacing back and forth beside the bed. "Do you honestly think I expect you to risk your life over money? You should've given them whatever they wanted."
"I was carrying over $1,000 dollars, Mac." Richie said quietly as he started picking at his bandage.
Duncan stopped pacing and looked down at the boy again. "I don't care if you're carrying a million dollars, Richie! You always give them the money. I never want you to risk your life over money. There's not enough of it in this world to make up for losing you, Rich." With each word his tone shifted noticeably from angry to urgent.
Richie was near tears now. "You wouldn't have given them the money."
"You don't know that, Richie. It would have depended on the situation. I wouldn't risk anyone getting hurt over money. Even the men who were robbing me." Duncan explained. "And I sure as hell wouldn't have risked you. Do you have any idea how much it terrifies me to know that you would put yourself in that much danger? When Tessa told me what happened, I swear my heart stopped. Do you have any idea how terrifying the idea of losing you is?"
"I just didn't want to disappoint you, Mac." He almost whispered it as he fought desperately to keep the tears welling up in his eyes from overflowing. What had he ever done to deserve having someone like this in his life? "I don't want you to think I'm so weak you can't count on me."
"I've never thought you were weak, Rich." Duncan said as he moved Richie's hand away from the bandage. "Needing help doesn't mean your weak. It means your human."
"You never need help." Richie mumbled.
Duncan couldn't help but smile at the naivety of Richie's thinking. "Of course I do, Rich. Maybe it doesn't seem that way, but I do. I've just lived a lot longer than you have. I might not need help as often as you do but that doesn't mean I never need it."
"Right." Richie said quietly, still looking down.
Duncan firmly gripped his chin and forced the boy to look him in the eye. "You should never feel guilty about needing help, Rich. Especially from me."
"Why especially from you?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.
Duncan sighed in response and sat down gently on the edge of the bed. "When are you going to get it, Richie? You're my kid. Taking care of you just comes naturally to me."
***Flashback---Duncan's perspective***
Duncan eased the door open slowly, still concerned from having seen Richie sleeping uneasily earlier that night. As the room came into full view, the smell of sickness made him realize that his concern was not entirely unfounded. No longer quiet about entering, Duncan headed in the direction of the slightly ajar bathroom door.
"Richie?" He called out as he pushed the door open. Immediately, he turned his full attention to the boy. Resting his head against the cool porcelain of the bathtub, a full shade whiter than when Duncan had last laid eyes on him, Richie sat in a ball on the floor. The teen barely acknowledged Duncan's entrance with a low grunt before expelling what little of his dinner still remained in his stomach.
As Duncan proceeded to flush the evidence and run cool water over the washcloth, Richie forced his eyes open. "Hey, Mac."
He said it quietly, still struggling to catch his breath. When the boy didn't resist the Immortal running the washcloth across his face, Duncan knew he must have really been feeling poorly. Concerned and anxious, the Immortal began his questioning. "Was it something I said?"
"Funny." Richie closed his eyes again and sagged lower against the tub.
This hardly eased Duncan's fears. As he reached out and felt the back of the boy's neck, he was even more disturbed. Heat was radiating from him. "Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere." The mumbled response brought a slight smile to Duncan's lips. There had been an occasion or two where he had given that same, vague response to his mother in times long since past.
"Could you be more specific?"
Richie opened his eyes slightly to give the Immortal a pathetic look. "No."
"It's going to be okay. You'll be as good as new before you know it." As Duncan ran his hand up and down Richie's back, hoping to be of some comfort, he found himself pondering the irony of the situation. For the past two weeks he had been impatiently awaiting the time when Richie would let down his tough exterior around him. Now that he was, the Immortal found himself fervently hoping the boy would put it back up. At least that way he would know Richie was all right.
"Okay." Richie's feeble response was not what he had been hoping for.
But at least Richie wasn't being pessimistic. "How about we get you back to bed, hum?"
"I'm okay here." The boy was beginning to form sentences again, Duncan rationalized.
With a few swift moves, Duncan had the teen back in the bedroom and was adjusting the bedding so that the sheets were not twisted around his feet. "More comfortable?"
"Thanks." Richie nodded his reply.
Duncan walked out at that and realized that his reentrance a few moments later startled Richie. Apparently, the boy thought he was just going to be left to suffer in solitude for the rest of the night. Trying to stay positive, he used what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "Open up."
"Huh?" Richie looked up at him, obviously confused.
But Duncan just smiled as he perched himself on the edge of the bed and held the thermometer he had retrieved from Tessa's medicine cabinet out in front of the boy. As Richie looked bewilderedly at him and reached his hand out to take the device, Duncan withdrew it slightly. He repeated his request again. "Open up."
As Richie lay on the bed, silenced by the thermometer, Duncan could feel the boy's inquisitive eyes on his back as he filled a bowl with water and, retrieving a washcloth, glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol, returned to Richie's side. A few minutes after settling his cargo on the bedside stand, the Immortal decided it was time to check the boy's temperature.
Removing the thermometer and moving towards the bathroom for the bright light, Duncan noticed Richie's drooping eyes. As he stood in the doorway, examining the device, he realized that Richie would be asleep within a few minutes if he just kept quiet. The fever was low and Richie hopefully only had a short-term virus. He would probably sleep through the rest of the night and wake up ready for anything. But as he secured the blankets around his patient and began cleaning up the area, the ancient couldn't shake a touch of lingering concern.
Sitting down in the desk chair, watching the boy's gentle breathing, Duncan realized that it would be perfectly fine if he left. As he shifted himself to a more comfortable position and closed his eyes, he knew it was time for him to head back to his own room.
"Mac?"
Duncan blinked and sat up, rubbing his stiff back as he looked over at the bed.
Squinting from the blinding sun, Richie looked at him with a mixture of confusion and hesitant pleasure on his face.
"How're you feeling?" The Immortal questioned as he moved over to sit on the edge of the bed and reached out to feel the teen's forehead.
Richie looked up at him, not flinching away in the least from the hand. "Better. Have you been here all night?"
"Uh huh." Duncan replied nonplussed. He quickly recouped. "Define better."
"I'm kinda worn out, but I don't feel sick." Richie explained. "You really stayed with me all night?" The child was apparently more interested in discussing Duncan's sleeping arrangements than his own health.
Duncan relented to the change in topic. "Yep."
"You stayed with me because I was sick?" The boy wanted to be clear.
The Immortal smiled at the hint of joy he detected in the question. "Of course."
"I wasn't that sick. Why would you stay?" Richie continued questioning.
The ancient smiled at him broadly. "It seemed like the right thing to do at the time." Getting up off the bed and heading towards the door, Duncan paused briefly. "Brush your teeth before you come out."
