AN- This chapter contains references to physical abuse in Richie's past. Please don't read it if you find that kind of thing in any way upsetting.
***
For a few moment no one spoke.
Then Tessa's expression hardened and she said something to Mac in terse, clipped, French.
He cast a concerned look at Richie, before responding with something that was obviously supposed to be soothing.
Instead, it seemed only to enflame the Frenchwoman further, evoking a rapid torrent of angry words, that caused Mac's features to darken into a hard mask.
"Give us a minute, will you Rich?"
Mac ushered a clearly protesting Tessa out of the room, and down the corridor into their bedroom, where he firmly shut the door.
Which did absolutely nothing to quell the sound of their raised voices.
Richie scooted miserably down in the bedclothes. He had never known Mac and Tessa to fight like this before. And it was clearly all his fault.
He just wished he knew what they were arguing about.
Tessa was clearly insisting on something.
And Mac was protesting. Or maybe defending himself?
Or defending Richie?
His heart sank. He should have seen this coming. It was only a matter of time until the couple realised that he was more trouble than he was worth. Right now, Tessa was probably insisting to Mac that they wash their hands of him, and find some nice, obedient, kid, who deserved such a loving home. Mac might argue for a bit. But in the end he'd do what Tessa wanted. He should never have allowed himself to believe that this could last. He should have known better.
He did know better.
If he had been their real kid, Mac would just have put him over his knee and given him a spanking to remember.
That was what he would have done.
Hope flared in Richie's chest.
Maybe there was a way out of this mess, after all.
***
"You knew!" Tessa's fury as she hurled the angry words at him, knew no bounds. "You knew about this, and you did not tell me!"
"Will you keep your voice down?" Duncan cast a worried look at the door. "The lad is skittish enough already."
"Richie does not speak French." Tessa reminded him icily.
"But he can still hear us fighting," Duncan pointed out. "And he knows its about him."
"This is not about him, Duncan Macleod," With something of an effort, Tessa lowered her voice. "This is about you, and the fact that you did not see fit to tell me that our son had been abused."
"Tess, it wasn't my place to tell," Duncan spread his hands. "Lord knows, it isn't as if Richie has been that willing to share pieces of his past with us."
"All the more reason that you should have told me of this!" Tessa protested.
"And what would you have done?" Duncan challenged.
"I would have spoken to Richie, of course," Tessa retorted. "Such a thing should be addressed. He should know that we are there for him and that there are counsellors and such people who can help him."
"And how exactly would you have explained this sudden interest in his welfare?" Duncan threw at her.
"We are his parents!" Tessa threw up our arms. "We are supposed to be interested in his welfare."
"Oh come on Tess, you know as well as I do how Richie would have reacted if we had just confronted him with this," Duncan shook his head. "Why do you think I didn't talk to him when I first noticed the scars?"
"Scars?" Tessa's voice rose. "There are scars?"
"On the backs of his legs." Duncan acknowledged reluctantly..
"How long have you known of this?" Tessa's tone did not bode well for the Immortal.
"Since the first time I had to put him to bed." Duncan admitted.
"But you suspected before." Tessa pressed.
"Aye," Duncan sighed. "I've lived too long not to recognise the signs my love."
***
Richie hovered uncertainly outside the couple's bedroom door.
He wasn't at all sure that he had the courage to do this.
In the past Mac had somehow always seemed to know when he needed something. It would be really, really, cool if ..
As if on cue, the Immortal appeared at the door.
"Richie? What's wrong? Are you OK?"
The genuine concern in the Immortal's voice steeled his resolve.
"I .. um .. its about my punishment .. I've made my decision." He stuttered.
Duncan looked at the pale, nervous, teen and didn't bother to point out that he wasn't supposed to be out of his bed.
"Come and sit down." he guided him over to the bed and gently pushed him down, reaching an arm behind him to pull up the armchair.
"Are you sure you do not want more time to think about this?" Tessa asked, coming over to sit by Richie.
"No," Richie shook his head firmly. "I've decided."
"Rich .." Duncan began uncertainly.
"No, Mac, You were right," Richie cut in. "I had to work this out for myself. I .. mean .. the choice is, there really is no choice, right?"
"There's always a choice Rich." Duncan said.
"Not this time," Richie shook his head. "I screwed up, big time. That means a spanking."
But he wasn't looking at either of them when he said it.
Instead, his eyes were fixed on the thick, leather, belt, which lay draped over the back of the armchair.
***
"That's your decision?" Duncan asked, when he could find his voice. "You want me to spank you .. with my belt?"
"You don't gotta sound so surprised," Richie protested quietly. "I do know how to do the right thing, you know."
"And you think this is the right thing?" Duncan raised a brow.
"Its what your old man would do, isn't it?"
"It is," Duncan agreed. "But then, he would also have run a man through simply for being English and urinated in public. I like to think we've moved on a bit since then."
Richie pressed his lips together and looked at the floor.
"Its necessary." He whispered
"Necessary?" Tessa queried, with a frown. "What do you mean, necessary?"
"Look, can we just get it over with please?" Richie begged.
Duncan and Tessa exchanged a look.
"So, how many times should I hit you?" Duncan asked.
"What?" Richie's head came up sharply.
"I've never done this before," Duncan told him. "How many times will it take, before you learn your lesson?"
"I dunno," Richie looked baffled. "Until I'm crying some, I guess."
"Crying?" Tessa looked shocked.
"Alright, Richie," Duncan sighed. "Come here." He patted his lap.
Nervously, Richie went to drape himself across the Immortal's knee, only to find his descent gently halted.
"No, come here," Duncan pulled him down so that he was sitting in his lap. Then he reached out and lifted up his chin, bringing his too bright blue eyes, to meet his own warm dark brown ones.
"First, tell me why you think this is so necessary?"
***
Fourteen year old Richie sat back against the headboard and contemplated his sneakers. He figured he had really done it this time. She had been so mad that she had sent him to his room until he got home. Right now she'd be telling him about his latest escapade. And then it would all be over. He'd send him back to the Orphanage for sure.
"Richie, come down here, please." His voice called up the stairs.
With a sigh Richie levered himself off the bed and headed downstairs.
Less than a week. That had to be a record.
Even for him.
He was sitting at the table in the kitchen. She was doing something over the stove.
"Your mother has told me what happened today," he said calmly. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Maybe he would get sent back to the old neighbourhood, and he could hook up with Maria, and Angie and Gary and the rest.
"No," he sighed.
"I beg your pardon?" he raised a brow.
Richie blinked. Surprised that he would care anymore.
"No, Dad." He amended.
"Then I suppose the only thing we need to discuss is your punishment." He said.
"Punishment?" Richie echoed.
"We have been patient with you," He pointed out. "Given you a chance to settle in. We understand that you were angry and disappointed that the adoption didn't go through. But you are our son now. Surely, you did not expect that your behaviour could go unchecked indefinitely?"
Richie said nothing. It had never occurred to him that they might do anything other than just send him back.
"Richie, your father asked you a question." She prompted gently.
Looking up, Richie realised that both adults were waiting for an answer.
"You really think of me as your kid?" he asked uncertainly.
"Of course," He looked surprised. "Haven't we treated you just like we would our own son?"
Richie considered that. They had been real good to him, buying him clothes and stuff and taking him on outings. But lots of foster parents were like that until the novelty of a new kid wore off. It didn't necessary mean anything.
Except that, just maybe, this time it did.
"Yes sir." He answered, knowing it would please the man.
"And do you know what would have happened to our son if he had behaved as you have done this week?" He asked.
Richie flicked a quick glance at the photo of the blonde teenager, who had been so tragically killed in a hit and run accident on his way home from school.
"You would have punished him." Richie realised.
Real kids got punished. They didn't get sent back like unwanted parcels.
"I would have put him over my knee and given him a spanking that would leave him in no doubt that he was my child and I will not tolerate such behaviour." He agreed unfastened his belt.
"Um, what are you doing?" Richie asked.
***
"I couldn't believe it," Richie continued. "I mean, I'd never been put over anyone's knee before."
"Not even when you were small?" Tessa asked.
"I'd get turned around for a swat or two, if I was real annoying, or a quick cuff round the ear, maybe," Richie acknowledged. "But its amazing what you can get away with when nobody actually cares enough to look."
"But this man was different?" Tessa prompted.
"Oh man, was he," Richie breathed. "He'd go through my homework with me, come to practices, monitor what I ate, what I wore, where I went, he'd even have my friends parents over to check that they were the right sort of people. It was like I was the most important thing in his life."
"Yet, when you crossed him, he beat you, until you cried, and blood ran down your legs, if I'm any judge." Duncan said flatly.
"He said spankings were supposed to hurt." Richie shrugged off the severity. "And he was always real kind afterwards. We'd play a game or he'd read me a story, I mean, I was too old for all that stuff really, but you don't argue with a guy who has just rescinded your sitting down privileges for the foreseeable future .. and besides .."
"You craved his attention." Duncan said softly. "And you would endure anything to ensure his continued approval."
"Yeah," Richie agreed. "I guess. I didn't get much of that male bonding stuff when I was growing up. The occasional spanking didn't seem like such a high price to pay, for finally having a real Dad."
"You can call such a monster a real Father?" Tessa scoffed.
"C'mon Tess, didn't your folks ever spank you when you were a kid?" Richie sounded slightly less certain of himself.
"But this beating with a belt .. this is not spanking!" Tessa protested. "This is child abuse."
"Rich, you have scars." Duncan pointed out gently.
"And you don't?" Richie scoffed. "That's just the way it is, right? Gotta be sure you've made a real impression."
"Rich, I can count on one hand the number of times my father took a belt to me, all the time I was growing up, and he never left any permanent marks," Duncan told him. "You were with this man for less than six months and the back of your legs, they .. " his throat closed with emotion, as the tears split down his cheeks.
***
"Hey," Duncan knocked lightly on the door. "You awake?"
"Mac. How are you feeling?" Richie rolled over to look at the Immortal.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Duncan smiled, as he settled himself on the bed, and reached out a hand to check the lad for fever.
Richie swatted it impatiently away.
"Tessa has already, taken my temperature, checked I'm taking enough fluids, dosed me with painkillers, served up a nutrias lunch and .." Richie rolled his eyes. "Given me my antibiotics."
"You didn't like taking the tablets." Duncan shrugged.
"Sally Strawberry Flavoured Syrup?" Richie raised a brow.
"I just said it was for my kid." Duncan grinned.
"Yeah, well," Richie huffed, secretly pleased that the Immortal would go to the trouble of changing the hated medication. "If my hand falls off, because, I'm not getting the proper adult dosage .."
"Don't worry, I checked with the Pharmacist," Duncan assured him.
"Then you don't have any excuse for avoiding my question," Richie crossed his arms and waited.
"I could just wait until you fall asleep again." Duncan pointed out.
"But you won't," Richie countered, "Because you love me and you care what happens to me."
"You've been talking to Tessa."
"Actually, Tessa talked to me," Richie picked at the bedclothes. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I guess, I never thought how you might feel about .."
"Being expected to thrash the living daylights out of you?" Duncan supplied.
"I guess I have a pretty screwed up idea of what it means to be loved, huh? Richie squirmed.
"You'll learn," Duncan assured him. "You just haven't had enough practice yet."
"And in the end none of it mattered. He still sent me back to the Orphanage, because I couldn't be the kind of kid he wanted me to be." Richie bit his lip.
"What matters Richie, is whether you are the kind of kid, that you want to be." Duncan leant over and kissed him. "Although .."
"Oh Mac, please .." Richie flopped back. "Can't you just ground me or something?"
"Sorry, Tough Guy," Duncan shook his head. "You still have to come up with a suitable punishment."
"You could just give me a token swat on my butt, to prove that you would never beat on me like that, and all could be forgiven." Richie suggested with what he hoped was his most winning smile.
"That might work .. if you were six," Duncan gave him a tight grin. "But I think, a lad of sixteen should take a little more responsibility for his actions. Don't you?"
"Aw, Mac." Richie protested. "C'mon, a little help here?"
"You're a bright boy Richie," Duncan tousled his hair and headed towards the door. "I'm sure you'll think of something."
Richie nestled comfortably under the bedclothes. What on earth could he come up with that would make this right?
And then it came to him.