Richie was stuck in the shift that never ended. He could have sworn that it had been over an hour but according to his watch it had been less than twenty minutes.

"What time do you have?" Richie asked the goalie of the girl's soccer team.

"3:47," she answered. "Why?"

"I was praying my watch had stopped. Apparently I don't go to Temple enough," he smiled at her as he went to collect an order. "Would you mind making it quick?" Richie asked handing Jeremy, one of the cooks on duty, the biggest knife he could find. "Just through the heart; try not to make a mess."

"What happened?"

"Time froze but the customers didn't. You got table twenty-six done?"

"Two minutes. Long shift?"

"I've been here since breakfast," Richie explained. "I opened and I'm still here." He reached for the hamburger Jeremy was handing over the half wall that divided the kitchen from the pick-up area.

"One of the reason's I'll only have one year as captain. You guys get stuck will all the cruddy shifts."

"Worse than the freshman," he agreed. "But it's the price we pay for getting it good everywhere else. Do you think in about thirty minutes if you have a lull you could pop in some cheese fries for me?" He arranged the salad and chicken fingers around the onion rings on his tray.

"I thought tonight you were going to the girlfriend's house?"

"I am, but I'm starving and I won't make it. I just won't change; I've gone in work stuff before."

"Maybe because the only difference between your work stuff and your everyday stuff is the apron," Jeremy suggested as Richie went off to deliver the food.

"Can I get you anything else?" Richie asked pleasantly clearing the table of empty sugar wrappers so he would have less to deal with later.

"Ranch dressing," one girl said. "More water," added another. "How long would some fries take to get?" the third asked.

"I dunno," Richie shrugged. "Five minutes? You want some?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, ranch dressing, water and an order of fries. Be back in a sec." He asked another waiter who was making the rounds in their section, which neighbored Richie's, to fill their water as he went back into the kitchen to order the fries and get the ranch dressing.

"Twenty-three is up," Morgan, another cook, announced when she saw him. "That's you, right?"

"Yeah, thanks," Richie took the food and put it on the tray that seemed to have been glued to his hand all night. "Got any fries made?"

"Sure." She put some on a plate and handed it to him. "Fresh out of the grease."

"Thanks." He filled a cup with ranch and went back out to face the masses. Saturday afternoons were the busiest shift you could get. Unfortunately this particular crowd was known among the staff as being picky and lousy tippers. First Richie dropped off the extras for table twenty-six and got a request for a beer. He checked her ID insisting that even if she was in one of his classes he had to look. Dropped off table twenty-three's order and got requests for extra ketchup and more napkins before going to the bar to get the beer.

"Wanna make some money?" Richie asked the bartender who was lounging behind the bar.

"Busy out there?"

"Hell. Looks like this is the job I want."

"Come back tonight and tell me that," the bartender laughed. "But I can't complain, drunk people tip well."

"Hungry people don't. Trade ya."

"No thanks."

"Beer," Richie announced placing it on the table. He turned around. "Ketchup, napkins. Anything else?" Relieved that for the first time that night the answer was no, Richie made the rounds to refill drinks and went back into the kitchen. "What time is it?"

"4-ish," Jeremy answered.

"As soon as my tables clear, I'm a free man," Richie grinned happily. "Ten minutes on the fries good for you?"

"Uh." Jeremy looked at the order slips waiting for him.

"You put them in, I'll take them out," Richie told him.

"Yeah, that works."

"Sweet."

Thirty minutes later the hunger pain in Richie's stomach had lessened and he was on his way to Heather's parent's house.

"We hab a dog!" Brandon announced opening the door.

"You forgot to ask who it was," Richie reminded him.

"Oh, yeah!" Brandon closed the door with Richie still on the porch. "Who is it?" he yelled through the door.

Grinning Richie answered and Brandon once again opened the door and this time Richie went in. "Heather here yet?" he asked.

"We hab a dog," Brandon repeated.

"Okay," Richie drawled figuring that meant no. "Where's your dog?"

"GiGi!" Courtney shrieked from around the corner. "That's so gross! Mom, she's drooling again!"

Richie followed Brandon into the living room and froze in the doorway. Melinda and Courtney were wiping drool off the jowls of the largest creature Richie had ever seen. Melinda got a good look at Richie's face and hurried over to him.

"You're not scared of dogs are you?" she asked in an urgent whisper, feeling amazingly guilty.

"Dogs? No. What's that?"

"She's a Newffie," Courtney explained.

"A whatie?"

"New Finland hound," Melinda clarified. "One of the largest breeds of dogs."

"One of? Not THE?" Richie asked.

"Maybe, I'm not sure. Great Danes might be bigger."

Richie swallowed. "There's something bigger?"

"Do you want me to put GiGi in the yard?" Melinda whispered.

"No," Richie shook his head slightly. "Just caught me off guard that's all. I'm fine, really."

Ten minutes later Heather came home and found Richie in the kitchen set to his usual task of tearing the lettuce for the salad.

"Hey," she greeted him kissing his cheek in an unsuccessful attempt to distract him as she stole an olive. He slapped at her hand and otherwise ignored the theft.

"I met your horse today," he told her.

"We have a horse?" Heather asked smelling the gumbo simmering on the stove.

"That's what I think it is," Richie shrugged. "They tell me it's a dog, but I don't believe them. Happy anniversary next week, by the way," he added. Tessa had taught him that remembering dates would be a sure-fire way to impress any girl he got serious with.

Heather grinned approvingly. "You remembered."

"Of course," he smiled back. "You're not working Friday are you?"

"No."

"Good because there's a game Thursday and Saturday so I was going to take you out then, although the technical anniversary is Wednesday."

"You picked out a good one," Melinda whispered as she passed Heather. "I'm impressed," she added as she took the salad from Richie. He blushed and hid his face using the excuse of getting down the glasses to get some drinks for everyone.

"So what are you two going to do for your anniversary?" Steven asked at dinner.

"I'm taking her to a sleazy motel, sir," Richie said with a grin. Alex started choking on his coke. Richie tried not to laugh. "I can't tell you, it's a secret," he tried. "Heather can tell you later."

"Richie, you're positively evil," Melinda said. "Can you tell me after dinner?"

"And risk you blowing the secret? Not a chance!" Richie protested. "All I'll say is I hope your bride's maid's dress is clean, cause you'll need it."

"Wishie?" Brandon asked after a few minutes.

"Yes?" Richie inquired politely.

"Can you come to my church tomowo?"

"Brandon, I'm sure Richie goes to his own church Sunday mornings," Steven answered gently, hinting that it wasn't an appropriate question. "There's a little skit that his Sunday school class is putting on tomorrow."

"I'll come," Richie shrugged. "I don't have any plans."

"Richie, you don't have to," Melinda told him softly. "You don't have to indulge him."

"I'm serious; I don't have any plans. I don't mind coming."

They invited Richie to spend the night and he accepted. And because they were going to the later, more causal, service, Alex, who seemed to have forgiven Richie for whatever he had done to make him so mad, offered to let Richie borrow a shirt and he could wear his own jeans.

They had discovered over the past two years that it was easier to put Brandon to bed if Richie was out of sight. So when dinner was over and it was time for Brandon's bath, Melinda nodded to her husband. A silent signal that it was time for Richie to disappear.

"Richie, can I talk to you for a minute?" Steven asked opening the back door.

"Um. sure," Richie said wondering what he had done to merit such a serious tone. He cast Heather a confused look who shrugged and cast a similar look at her father.

"I'm not going to hurt him," Steven said rolling his eyes. "I just want to talk."

Richie joined Steven on the porch swig at the older man's silent invitation. "I was just joking about the motel," Richie insisted. "If you really want to know I'm taking her-"

"That's not what this is about," Steven interrupted.

"Oh. What did I do?" he asked. The motel joke was the only thing he could think of to earn such a serious talking to.

"It's what you said about tomorrow."

"Do you not want me to come?" Richie asked. "I didn't mean to interfere. I just thought it would be fun."

"You wanting to come is not what bothers me.it's that you could so easily make room for it in your schedule."

Richie looked at him. "I don't understand."

"I know this isn't my place; I'm not your father, but I feel I need to say something."

"About what?"

Steven took a deep breath. "Are you religious?"

"If you mean do I believe in God, yes. If you mean do I go to services regularly, no."

"Do you mind me asking what religion you practice? This has no affect on my opinion of you," he added. "You have already proved you are a very nice and caring boy. I'd just like to know."

Richie thought about his answer for a minute. "Honestly, I don't really practice anything. although I guess technically I'm Jewish. Whenever I did have a religion, I was Jewish," he admitted.

"When did you stop?"

Richie paused again. "Um. Where to begin."

"You don't have to tell me anything," Steven told him.

"No. if it worries you this much, you have a right to know. I just have to think of how to put it. I've never really talked about it." Richie thought for a few seconds. "Brandon and I have a lot in common; I'm adopted. Greg is atheist, but before him I was raised Jewish," he told him. "But I haven't been to Temple in forever."

"He wouldn't let you?" Steve asked trying to hide his disgust.

"I refused," Richie told him. "I was eight and tired of getting passed around. I wanted to blend into the family. After awhile, Dad and my social worker talked it out and decided not to force me, that's all. I made the decision."

"And you haven't been since?"

"Nope."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two," Richie answered automatically not sure how the question was relevant.

"Have you ever thought about going back?"

"To Temple?" Richie asked cocking his head to one side. Nobody had ever got him talking about religion before; Duncan had once mentioned it to him in passing but they had never had a serious discussion about it. He seemed to trust him to make a decision when the time suited him. Richie had never complained about being taken to various services when Duncan or Tessa had deemed a certain holiday or occasion important enough and that seemed to suit Duncan just fine.

"Yes, or just a church in general. Just get some religion in your life again. I assume at some point someone took you regularly."

"My first foster mom did, she's the one that was Jewish."

"Not your real mom?"

Richie shook his head. "Long story. Suffice it to say, I don't really have a real mom."

"You and Brandon have more in common than you realize, then," Steven told him. "Neither does Brandon. We actually found him."

Richie raised an eyebrow. "I'll initiate him into the club," he laughed not realizing how prophetic his words would someday be. "Does he know?" he asked.

"Not yet.well, he knows we're not his biological parents, just not how we came to get him. How old were you when you found out?"

"Found out what?"

"That you were adopted."

"I was never actually adopted, I did foster homes my whole life."

"Greg was the last one?"

Richie smiled weakly, this conversation was getting a little too personal for his liking. "Again, long story but no. But he was as close to getting adopted I ever got," Richie explained not wanting to get into his relationship with Duncan. As far as the O'Neal's knew, he was just another foster father in a long line and a really close friend.

"Did you always know that you were." Steve let the question hang in the air unfinished.

"Abandoned?" Richie supplied. Steven nodded. Richie didn't like letting Steven feel sorry for him. He had learned years ago that he didn't have any parents and was therefore not abandoned, because there was never anyone there to abandon him. But unless he wanted to get into the particulars about immortals he would leave it at that he had accepted the fact and refused to think anything of it. "I was seventeen and I found out by accident. I suggest you tell Brandon whenever he asks you about his birthparents, which he will."

"How should we tell him?" Steven asked glad to have someone with personal experience giving advice, even though he didn't like the idea that abandoning babies seemed to be a bit of an epidemic.

"Just tell him the truth; you don't know. Ask him if he wants to know how it happened, and tell him if he says yes. Be as honest as you can. The truth sucks and it hurts, but it's better to have someone you know tell you than to read it in a file like I did." Again Richie omitted the details on exactly how he got a hold of the file not wanting to tell more than he felt obligated to. Steven seemed okay with his decision.

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Steven sighed. "How do you tell someone you love, something so painful?"

"You have to," Richie shrugged starting to feel awkward in his knowledge of the situation. "I have a lot of friends who all got put into the system one way or another; and the general consensus is that it's better to be told when you want to know and not have the knowledge forced on you when you're not ready. Just remind him that genetics have nothing to do with family and you still love him no matter what."

"You sound a lot wiser than a mere twenty-two," Steven smiled.

"I've gotten the speech a time or two," Richie admitted with a smile. "Dad and Mac seem to feel guilty about the whole thing. But he'll understand. Maybe not at first, but he will."

"Am I interrupting?" Heather asked opening the back door and looking at the two serious faces deep in discussion.

Steven was the first to answer. "No, we're done here I think. We were just swapping advice." He shifted his gaze to Richie. "I know we got a little side tracked, but I think it would be a good idea if you started up again," he said cryptically. "It's up to you and it's none of my business, but I think something like that can come in handy sometimes."

"I'll check on campus," Richie told him sincerely. "See what the schedule is there and see if I can go and try it out again."

"Is this a boys only thing or can I ask what you were talking about?" Heather asked, stepping further out onto the back porch.

"Religion and adoption," Richie answered after Steven gave him a nod of consent.

"Daddy!" Heather groaned. "That's none of your business!"

"I know," Steven started but Richie interrupted him.

"It's fine, really," he insisted. "What he said made sense and I think I needed to hear it. Nobody has ever really talked to me about it before, but I'm kinda glad he did," he said more to Steven than Heather.

"Just thought I'd stick my nose in where it didn't belong," Steven joked getting up.

Richie and Steven parted ways with a simple nod. Richie followed Heather to her room. Upstairs, there was a knock on Heather's door and Alex came in holding a nice polo shirt.

"Here," he offered handing it to Richie. "It's the smallest one I could find; it should fit you decently."

Richie smirked at the comment and took the shirt. "Thanks for the consideration," he said looking the shirt over. "I was half expecting something pink and fluffy."

"I have this wonderful little baby blue number if you'd like," Alex said slipping into a stereotypical gay accent.

"I think you would look nice in blue," Heather said smiling.

"This will be fine, thanks," Richie answered tossing the shirt onto her desk chair.

"I better not hear anything from in here," Alex said winking at Heather before he left.

"Did he have any major brain surgery over the summer that I should know about?" Richie asked.

Heather grinned. "He's usually like that. He just has boyfriend issues. Apparently he deemed you worthy for defending my honor last year."

"Glad to know that little confrontation was good for something, I felt a bit like an ass," Richie admitted. "But a justified one," he added.

"Completely," Heather agreed. "Brandon's really excited that you're coming tomorrow," she changed the subject. "I don't know what his fixation is on you, but it's really cute."

Richie shrugged. "Who knows," he said oblivious to all the clues that Steven had unwittingly given him earlier.

Not feeling any need to push the mystery any farther, they settled down to watch a movie and feel asleep long before it was over.