AN- Thanks for the reviews and all the e-mail feedback, this is very much a moral dilemma type story, so there'll be a few twists and turns before its fully resolved, hopefully to everyone's satisfaction!
***
Keeping his arm around the teenager's shoulders, Duncan guided him back out into the reception area.
He told himself that the slight trembling he could feel from the lad was only natural after such an ordeal.
No cause for concern.
"Mr Macleod," a nurse appeared apologetically at his elbow. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you to fill these out before you can go."
"Oh, of course."
Duncan steered Richie to a nearby armchair.
"You stay put, OK?"
"Yes sir." Richie acknowledged quietly.
Duncan's head came up sharply, at the dutiful tone.
The lad must still be in shock. Perfectly normal, in the circumstances. That was all it was.
Fishing in his pocket for some loose change, he bought a cardboard cup of some brown liquid, claiming to be tea, from a vending machine.
"Here," he offered it. "Drink that. Its hot and sweet, and it'll make you feel better."
He braced himself for an argument, well aware that, even tried and dehydrated, Richie would favor a soda.
"Thanks." Wide eyed and grateful, Richie accepted the cup.
Alright, so the lad was simply too tired to care.
He'd be fine after a good night's rest.
Duncan made short work of the forms, mentally blessing Connor for ensuring that they knew Richie's blood group and the like. For once, the arrival of the orderly, pushing the regulation wheelchair down the corridor, was a welcome sight.
Now Richie would whine and complain at being treated like an invalid, protesting that it was hand that was hurt and his feet were just fine, thank you and Duncan would have to threaten to carry him, or some such nonsense, and all would be back to normal.
Well, as close to normal as this family ever got.
Except that, Richie just climbed meekly into the chair.
Duncan sighed. No longer able to ignore the blindingly obvious.
The idea that the Immortal might punish him, had clearly never occurred to Richie before.
And he was plainly terrified by the prospect.
***
Richie sat quietly in the wheelchair, trying to attract as little attention as possible, as the orderly delivered them to the door.
"Doesn't talk much, does he?" the orderly commented cheerfully.
"He's had a busy day." Mac's dry tone set a shiver down Richie's spine.
Let's see, he'd managed to neglect the man's business, probably alienating some valued customers in the process, played hooky from the job he was paid, handsomely, to do, courtesy of a bunch of lock picks he'd definitely allowed the Immortal to believe he didn't have any more, no doubt blunting the edge of a very expensive and possibly irreplaceable Antique sword, to play with a deadly weapon that the Immortal had strictly forbidden him to touch without permission.
Oh yeah, a really busy day.
"Well, you take care of him." The orderly grinned in farewell, as Richie clamoured out of the wheelchair, not daring to look the Immortal in the eye.
"Oh aye, I intend to."
Richie's heart sank. This was gonna be bad.
"C'mon, Richie," Duncan's tone was clipped. "Get in the car. You're dead on your feet here."
Or maybe I'm just dead, Richie shuddered visibly, as he moved to obey.
"For Lord's sake lad. That jacket of yours is neither use nor ornament." Duncan scolded.
Richie tensed at the exasperation in his voice. Fully expecting it to be followed by a blow.
The next thing Richie knew, the Immortal had shrugged out of his heavy coat, dropped his sword behind the seats, and wrapped the soft wool around Richie's shoulders.
"There, warmer now?" Mac ruffled his hair.
Richie felt the tears well up at the unexpected, kindness.
"I thought I was in trouble?" He managed.
"And that's reason enough to let you catch your death?" the Immortal gave him a odd look.
"Wouldn't blame you," Richie managed tightly, "All the trouble I've caused."
"Rich, if I though for one second you'd remember this conversation in the morning .." Duncan cupped his hand around his neck in a now familiar gesture of affection.
"I'm sorry," Richie quavered.
"Aye lad. So am I." Duncan offered cryptically. "C'mon. Let's get you home."
***
"Oh my goodness," Tessa put her hand to her mouth, as Duncan carried the unconscious teen into the apartment. "Your note said it was just a cut."
"It is," Duncan assured her. Then grimaced. "Its just a very big cut."
"How is he? What did the Doctor say? Why is he not conscious?" Tessa fired questions at him, as he headed towards Richie's room.
"He'll be fine. He's had a few stitches, quite a few pills and he's sound asleep."
"Stitches?" Tessa began clearing clothes and CDs off the bed. "How many stitches?"
"There won't be any scarring." Duncan evaded her question, as he laid the teen on the bed, quickly stripping him down to shorts and T-shirt, before tucking the comforter around him and dropping a soft kiss on his forehead.
"He is so pale." Tessa worried.
"It's the blood loss." Duncan said absently.
"How much blood?" Tessa demanded. "There is no blood in the kitchen!"
"Ah," Duncan realised.
"Ah?" Tessa repeated. Her voice rising. "What do you mean .. Ah?"
"Shh, .. you'll wake him." Duncan took her arm and led her down the corridor to their bedroom, firmly shutting the door.
"The second coming would not wake that boy, right now." Tessa did not look pleased. "What happened to him?"
"You haven't been into the Store?" Duncan asked.
"No, I came in the other way," Tessa told him. "Why would ..?" she froze. "A sword? He did this with a sword? Duncan! What were you thinking?"
"Me?" Duncan spluttered. "I wasna even here! Yon fine laddie did this all by himself."
"But those cases are locked!" Tessa protested. "He would not be .." she trailed off.
"You won't have to worry about being locked out of the house anymore." Duncan shrugged.
"But what if you had not come home early," Tessa protested. "He could have bled to death!"
"Aye," Duncan let his worry show. "There is that."
***
"He is already badly hurt," Tessa pointed out, "Is it fair to punish him also?"
"I think we have to Tess. Otherwise he's going to be walking on eggshells around us for weeks, waiting for me to blow up at him, or you to demand that he goes back to Social Services."
"So, punishing him will make him feel better?" Tessa raised a sceptical brow.
"And, it will stop him doing anything so dammed fool hardy ever again," Duncan continued. "Lord knows the lad is reckless enough, I'll not have him thinking that his safety is a matter of indifference to us."
"What should we do?" Tessa gave her support.
"I was hoping you could tell me." Duncan sighed.
"Mac?" Tessa said gently.
"You should have seen him, Tess," Duncan said quietly. "As soon as the Doctor raised the spectre of punishment, he just shut down."
"That does not sound like Richie." Tessa frowned. "Usually, he is one to try and talk his way out of trouble."
"I know." Duncan rolled his mug between his hands. "But I guess things are different now."
"What do you mean?" Tessa was confused.
"We know he's only sixteen." Duncan shrugged. "And we're his parents. Or God knows we're trying to be."
"But this is a good thing, non?"
"That depends," Duncan scrubbed at his face. "I know how my parents would have handled this."
"And this is what Richie expects of us now?" Tessa asked.
"I don't think he knows what to expect." Duncan sighed. "That's the problem."
"We know so little of his life, before." Tessa worried.
"I know," Duncan sighed. "Lord knows, he has enough demons. If we come down too hard on him, we could do more harm than good."
"But if we are too lenient, next time he may be permanently injured." Tessa worried. "Or maybe even killed!"
"I know." Duncan pressed his lips together.
"Duncan," Tessa asked warily, after a moment. "What are you thinking?"
"I think," Duncan let out a breathe. "We should let Richie decide his own punishment."
"That's your solution?" Tessa scoffed. "Perhaps we should take him out for ice-cream as well. Just to be sure that he really learns his lesson!"
"Tessa, I'm serious," Duncan cut in. "This way, he will have to consider the consequences of his actions. And maybe we'll get a clue to what's going on inside that head of his."
"And you seriously think a sixteen year old boy, will arrive at a suitable punishment?" Tessa challenged.
"I think," Duncan looked up, his eyes dark and deadly serious, "That you will be amazed at what Richie considers to be suitable punishment."