Slipping into the loft behind Tessa, Duncan carefully removed Richie's coat as he carried the boy down the hallway. After a brief pause for Tessa to pull back the bedding and take the coat from him, he gently deposited his load into the bed. As he straightened himself, he was surprised to see the gentle way Tessa secured the blankets around the teen and brushed the boy's stray curls from his eyes. He lamented briefly on how wonderful it would be if she gave him such gentle care when the boy was awake.
Following Tessa out of the room, Duncan paused only to partially close the door. As they walked into the living room, he was pleased to see how calm Tessa appeared to be. Settling down with her on the sofa, he momentarily contemplated how to start the conversation he was quite anxious to have.
Fortunately, Tessa provided the perfect segue. "What are we going to do with him, Duncan?"
"He'll be fine, Tess." Duncan supplied.
But Tessa was not impressed. "Of course he will. That isn't what I mean. He is reckless to get himself so sick. And to not tell us he is feeling poorly just hours after our talk; it is almost as bad as running off like he did. How on earth are we going to get through to him?"
"We just need to pay better attention. Spend more time with him and earn his trust." Duncan replied.
That response earned him an annoyed look from the Frenchwoman. "What we need to do is make it clear to him that there are consequences to his actions. He needs to realize that this illness is a direct result of his reckless behavior."
"Tessa." Duncan countered. "He's going to make mistakes. He didn't think he was doing anything wrong by leaving. He genuinely believed it was the best thing."
"Well he was genuinely wrong." Tessa shot back. "He needs to understand that."
"He does, Tess. At least as much as he needs to. He's just afraid." Duncan countered.
The woman rolled her eyes at that. "That is ridiculous. What on earth does he have to be afraid of?"
"Not belonging. Getting thrown out. All sorts of things." Duncan explained. "We need to reassure him, not scare him."
"His head is in the clouds, Duncan. He's a smart boy but I swear sometimes he just doesn't think. Chasing fairytales across bridges, wishing away illness. He needs to get his head on straight."
"He has a right to be childish, Tessa. He's a child. Would you really want him to be completely logical? Personally, I'm glad he hasn't lost his ability to dream. Lord knows he's had to take care of himself for far too long. It's a small miracle that he still has such innocence."
"It's a miracle he's still alive. That's the miracle." Tessa shot back. "Such irrational thinking could get him killed."
"That's why he has us." Duncan replied quietly. "To protect him from the world while he has a chance to grow up gradually."
"You can't protect him forever." Tessa countered.
Which simply earned her an annoyed look. "Of course not. And you know as well as I do that he hardly requires constant supervision. He just needs guidance."
"What he needs is discipline." The woman replied.
Duncan was far from happy with that response. "He needs love and attention, so he understands that we want to take care of him. That way he'll trust us and not be afraid to come to us."
"You've just got all the answers, don't you?" Tessa finally spat. "It isn't that simple, Duncan. The world is a lot more complicated than it was when you were a child. You of all people should know how much things have changed. It isn't safe to be innocent anymore."
"Tessa." Duncan breathed her name, finally beginning to see that her uncharacteristic hardness was coming from fear for the teen. "No matter what we do, there's no way to guarantee he'll always be safe. You know that. We just do what we can to protect him."
"He almost died, Duncan." She said quietly.
The Immortal frowned. "He's all right now."
"If you hadn't found him, though. When I was just imagining what could have happened it was awful enough, but for him to get so sick. If he had been on his own, he never would have gotten to the hospital." Tessa stopped momentarily, blinking back tears. "It just hurts too much to even think about."
"I know." Duncan replied, wrapping his arms around her. "But he's with us now and he's fine. Everything's going to be all right."
Gently pushing the cracked door all the way open, Duncan immediately realized there was no need for him to continue trying to be quiet. Richie was wide-awake and watching him enter. "Hey, there. What are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep." The teen replied with a shrug, despite the bags under his eyes. "What's up?"
"Anything but your fever, I'm hoping." The Immortal replied, holding out a thermometer for the teen to see as he spoke.
Richie was not exactly thrilled by its appearance. Rolling his eyes, he looked up at the man. "Mac, I'm fine. You don't have to."
Cut off by the instrument being stuck under his tongue, Richie contented himself with just giving the Immortal a dirty look for his troubles. He was startled when it resulted in the man leaving the room. He had never meant to offend him that much.
Fortunately for the boy's fears of abandonment, Duncan reappeared quickly holding a bottle of medicine, a spoon and a glass of water. Fortunate for his fears all right. Not so much so for his taste buds, however. Richie knew firsthand how awful the purple slim in the bottle tasted. Suddenly, he was dreading Duncan removing the thermometer from his mouth.
That moment came all too soon. "100.2." Duncan announced. "Not great, but I'll take it. How are you feeling?"
"Fine." The teen replied quickly, hoping to convince the man he was well enough to do without the liquid that now sat in a bottle on his nightstand.
It was a completely unrealistic fantasy. As soon as the Immortal sat down the thermometer, he was twisting the lid off the bottle. Richie decided to take on the challenge. "Mac, really, I feel a lot better."
"Good." Duncan replied as he carefully poured the liquid onto the spoon.
Much to the teen's dismay. "Completely better."
"You still have a fever." Duncan said flatly, as he carefully offered the teen the spoon.
Richie had no intention of accepting the offering. "But it's a lot lower now."
"Uh-huh." Duncan replied and moved the spoon towards the teen's mouth when Richie continued to not take it from him. "All right now, open up."
"Come on, Mac. I really." He never should have opened his big mouth. Literally. Quickly swallowing, he grabbed the glass of water Duncan calmly offered him, giving the man a dirty look for his troubles.
Duncan couldn't help but beam at Richie's reaction. His pouting, fussing, funny faces and general dramatics would have tried another man's patience. But for Duncan, it provided peace of mind that Richie was getting more comfortable with him and not completely terrified of driving the Immortal away. Yes, Richie's childishness was definitely something to revel in.
As the teen finished his water and settled back into the pillow, Duncan was surprised when he groggily leaned over and grabbed the bottle off the nightstand. After a few moments of watching the teen stare at it, Duncan's curiosity got the better of him. "Rich? What're you looking at?"
"I am so sorry." Richie said quietly, turning to look at him with wide eyes. "I swear I'll pay you back."
"What?" Suddenly, the Immortal realized what it was that had captured the teen's attention. The price. "Richie, you're not going to pay me back."
"I swear I will." Richie said seriously. "For all of it: the hospital, the medicine, whatever you lost from having the store closed. I swear I'll pay you back."
"Richie, just stop it." Duncan retorted. "You are not paying me anything."
"Mac, I." Richie started to protest, but was startled into silence when Duncan quickly leaned over and grabbed the bottle from him.
Studying the bottle briefly, Duncan found what he was looking for and turned back to the teen. "What does that say?" He asked, pointing at the label on the bottle.
Richie looked up at him, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face at the unexpected question. "What?"
"Right there." Duncan replied impatiently, pointing at the exact line he wanted Richie to read. "What does that say?"
"Richard MacLeod." Richie finally read aloud. Looking up at the man again, it took him a few seconds to register what he had read.
As soon as Duncan saw the realization on the teen's face, he continued. "Who is that?"
"Me?" Richie replied, questioning the man as much as he was answering the question directed at him.
He received a nod in response. "That's right, you. And the last name, does it seem vaguely familiar to you?"
"It's yours." Richie replied automatically.
Which earned him yet another nod. "Uh huh. Which means when you became my son, your name became mine, just like you did. When I became your father it was because I wanted to be responsible for you, Richie. All of you. Even your bills."
"Why did you?" Richie finally asked, vulnerability evident in his voice.
Duncan looked down at him intently. "Why did I what, Rich?"
"Adopt me. Why would you do that?" Richie responded.
The Immortal wrapped a hand around each of the teen's arms. "Because I want you, Rich. You deserve a family and I wanted to give it to you."
"How come you didn't tell me first?" Richie questioned, eyes brimming with tears.
Which Duncan chose to ignore momentarily. "That I was adopting you?"
When the teen nodded silently in response, the ancient explained his reasoning. "It wouldn't have been fair to you. Adults decide to have kids. Not the other way around. You shouldn't have to decide whether or not to have someone love you and take care of you. It's your right."
"Thanks, Mac." The teen replied quietly, allowing the tears to flow over.
Leaning over to plant a kiss on the boy's cheek, Duncan rested his hand on the back of the boy's neck. "You don't ever have to be grateful for me, Richie."
Rubbing the back of the teen's neck gently, Duncan allowed the boy a few moments to relax before addressing him again. "You look beat, partner. Think you can get some sleep?"
"Sure." Richie replied quickly.
Too quickly. Duncan wasn't convinced. "All right. Ready for a bed time story?"
"Mac." Richie whined, blushing for the first time since the Immortal had come in. "I'm way too old for that."
"You are not." Duncan told him flatly.
But Richie wasn't convinced. "Yes, I really am. Seriously."
"Fine." Duncan replied. "I'm not though."
"What?" The teen questioned.
Duncan smiled. "If you don't want me to tell you a story, you'll just have to tell me one."
"Me? Tell you a story?" Richie repeated skeptically.
When Duncan nodded resolutely, Richie shook his head. "I don't know any stories."
"Sure you do." Duncan replied calmly. "Tell me the one about the bridge."
"The bridge?" Richie repeated hesitantly.
But Duncan was feeling persistent. "The Tacoma Narrows. Tell me what drew you there. I know there's a good story behind it."