Richie woke up without an attempt at stretching. He had one day left, then Duncan would come kill Chuck and life could go back to normal. After what Richie judged was twenty minutes of no speaking, he decided to say something,

"Marco!" he called into the room.

"What the hell do you want, now?"

"You're supposed to say 'Polo'," Richie complained. "I'm bored and I have to go to."

"I don't care," Chuck interrupted. "Today, you're stuck. So shut up and stay off my nerves."

"Testy!" Richie scoffed.

Without warning, Chuck backhanded him. "You know what? I'm really sick of you and all your little jokes! So shut up before I make you! Do you understand?"

"Why does everyone always ask if I." Richie cut off as he heard duct tape being pulled off the roll. "Fine, I'll shut up!" he insisted quickly.

. . . . . .

"We go in at midnight," Duncan decided. "I go in, get the kidnapper away from Richie, then you go get him. Simple as that. In and out in ten minutes."

"What about the money?" Greg asked.

"I have it and I'll take it. If worse comes to worse, they get the money and you get Richie."

"Do you think it's going to come to that?"

"Probably not, but there's always the possibility. This guy has to be above average to get Richie, he's a tough fighter. I tried to kidnap him once for a surprise party and it didn't go over well," Duncan smiled at the memory.

"What happened?"

"I ended up with a black eye, a bloody nose and a broken foot. Then I had to explain what I was trying to do."

"So you ruined the surprise?" Greg asked with a hint of superiority.

"I told him it was a test, he passed, and did he want to go for a beer. Took him to the bar and. surprise!"

"So now what?" Greg got up to refill his coffee. "We have a plan for what we do now?"

"We go to the store," Duncan said.

"The store?" Greg repeated.

"Richie has a. a routine when he comes home."

"This has happened often enough to develop a routine!" Greg fumed. "Do you not take care of him?!"

"I took care of him," Duncan countered. "Now it's your job. And it's only happened a couple times."

"So what do we need for this little routine of his?"

"Sourdough bread, bacon, cheese, ground beef, potatoes, lots of ketchup and lots of hot sauce." Duncan ticked each item off on his fingers.

. . . . . .

"Hello?" John answered the phone at the team house.

"Hey, John, is Richie home yet?" Heather's voice asked.

"No, not yet. Any day now, though."

"I'm getting a little worried, he hasn't called at all."

"I'm sure he's fine," John said in what he hoped was an assuring voice. "Just caught up in stuff. I'll have him call as soon as he can," he added.

"Thanks," Heather replied. "I don't mean to be such a pain. this just isn't like him."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Thanks, John. Bye."

"Bye."

. . . . . .

Richie was very hungry and thirsty and to top it all off, his bladder felt like it was going to explode any minute now. He had spent nearly the entire day in self-imposed silence. Every hour or so, he would get the over whelming urge to scream out something random or start singing, or starting up some stand up routine, but he continually fought the urges hoping that he would get some reward for behaving. Finally, just as Richie was about to drift off to sleep for lack of anything better to do, the reward came in the form of a beer. His dry mouth and throat gladly accepted the moisture while his bladder started a count down to forced liquid evacuation procedure number three. wetting his pants.

"Look," Richie pleaded. "I really gotta go."

"I don't care."

"You will when I go anyway," Richie assured him. "It's gonna smell like a litter box in here."

Five minutes later, Richie was standing in the bathroom stall, blindfolded and hands tied. At least this time, his hands were in front of him. "It's not my fault if I miss," Richie announced, relieving the pressure on his bladder. To his surprise, it at least sounded like it was a direct hit.

After he was finished, he was led back to his table and secured down. The blindfold was left on this time. Once again, Richie didn't question the decision and went back to fighting the urge to speak. A phone rang, startling both of them. Richie had never noticed a phone in the room before. But then again, all he could comfortably notice was the ceiling right above him.

"Yeah?" Chuck answered. "He's worse than you told me. Yeah I fed him; don't know why you wanted me to though. All it did was give him energy to be annoying. when? Okay, fine. yeah, I'll take care of him. You have nothing to worry about. I just want my money." He hung up. "Guess what kid, at midnight, you're going to be liberated."

"Finally," Richie mumbled. He felt the top two straps being undone. Then Chuck yanked him into a sitting position.

"Drink up, kid."

"What is it?" Richie asked pulling away as something touched his lips.

"A beer. This is my last offer. Take it."

The bottle was put to Richie's lips again. He was thirsty and his bladder could hold one beer for a while. Richie decided to take it. That was the last thing he remembered doing.

. . . . . .

At midnight, Duncan walked through the doors of the old high school; bag of money in hand. "Hello?" he called into the empty building. The school was huge and there was no telling where Richie had been hidden. He began to walk the corridors waiting for a familiar buzz to hit him. Halfway down a hall of science labs, he got the buzz. He drew his sword and approached the other immortal.

"I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod," he announced. "And I want my friend back."

"I am Michael Plattman of Virginia, originally," the other immortal answered. "And I want my money."

"Here, take it," Duncan tossed him the bag. "Where's Richie?"

"He's fine. Don't worry; I promise to let him go once I'm done with you." Michael put the bag down and started toward Duncan, sword at the ready.

. . . . . .

As soon as Duncan was out of the car, Greg drove around the school to sense Richie's buzz. He drove directly to the side of the school with the gym and pulled to a stop. He got out of the car and went in through the back door. Richie was passed out, secured to a table and blindfolded. He walked over to him.

"Rich?" he asked shaking him gently. "Richie, wake up." Richie didn't respond at all. "Prefect." He felt the buzz of another immortal approaching at the same time he heard Duncan announce his arrival to Michael. "Miller, just in time," Greg smiled pulling a gun out of his waist band.

"What are doing?" Miller asked pulling his sword.

"Saving my son," Greg answered. "You kidnapped him."

"What are you talking about? I got challenged by some guy earlier today."

"How convenient."

"Greg, I have no quarrel with you or your son," Miller insisted, inching his way toward Greg and the gun.

"You leave my son out of this," Greg told him. "This is between me and you." He fired the gun twice; each bullet piercing Miller's skull. Once the professor had fallen to the ground, Greg took out his sword and took his opponent's head.

. . . . . .

Two gun shots echoed through the empty school. Duncan swallowed hard and concentrated on fighting Plattman. He deflected two blows aimed for his kneecaps and responded with a flurry of tightly maneuvered counter attacks, driving Plattman back down the hall. He fought to keep his concentration as the stillness of a quickening enveloped the school. The flashing lights momentarily distracted Plattman long enough for Duncan to get in the final blow.

. . . . . .

As soon as the quickening was over, Greg went to Richie's side. He slowly began to take the straps off. He heard foot steps running towards them and began to work faster.

"Richie!" he called to the unconscious boy. "Rich, wake up!"

"Masters?" Duncan asked pausing momentarily in the doorway. "Is he okay?"

"He's out of it, but he's in one piece."

"What happened in here?" Duncan asked moving to help with the bindings. "Who died?"

"Miller."

"Miller?"

"He was in here when I got here. He was going to kill him. I didn't have a choice."

"I guess not. Who got shot?"

"He did. He had a gun and was going to shoot me, take Richie's head, then mine. We fought over the gun and I got it."

They finished unfastening the straps and restraints and untied the blindfold. They both started for a minute at the still young man lying before them.

"Only one thing to do," Duncan shrugged. He reached down and hoisted Richie into his arms. "Where did you park?"

Greg showed him the way then when back to get the money while Duncan settled Richie in the backseat. He returned to the car with the bag in hand. Richie was lying across the back seat tucked under Duncan's over coat. When they got to Greg's house, Duncan volunteered to carry Richie to his room. Halfway up the stairs, Richie started to wake up.

"Put me down," he protested sleepily, starting to squirm a little.

"Go back to sleep, Rich," Duncan whispered and Richie's movements stopped. He took him into his room and put him on the bed. He took off Richie's shoes and socks silently but when he moved to his jeans and t-shirt he spoke to him so he wouldn't fight it. "You need to shave," he added at the end, running a finger over the stubble that was quickly becoming a beard. "Then come down for some food."

Two hours later, Duncan and Greg were in the living room reading the paper and ignoring each other when a soft thump sounded above them, followed by footsteps. A few seconds later, a rumble of footsteps made the ceiling fan shake.

Duncan chuckled. "He almost fell," he explained when Greg shot him a questioning look. "Guess I'd better get breakfast ready." He got up and went into the kitchen with Greg at his heels.

"We'd better get breakfast ready," Greg corrected.

Twenty minutes later, Richie stumbled down the stairs cleaned up and dressed in boxers and a t-shirt. He plopped down at the table and rested his head on his folded arms.

"Still a little drugged, I see," Duncan laughed transferring the hash browns from the pan to a plate. "Not too tired to eat are you?"

Richie sat up and smiled. "I'm never too anything to eat." He yawned and stretched narrowly missing the plate with his burger and hashbrowns on it. "Oh! Sorry," he apologized, leaning away to finish his stretch.

"How are you feeling?" Greg asked sitting next to him.

"I'll tell you once my brain starts to function," Richie assured him picking up his bacon cheeseburger. Richie made short work of the burger and moved onto the hash browns, smothering them first in ketchup and hot sauce. He gulped three cups of coffee before Duncan deemed him awake enough to answer some questions.

"So, what happened?" he asked.

"Honestly?" Richie asked leaning back in his chair. "You're gonna hate me."

"Why?"

"I don't remember much."

"Well, what do you remember?" Greg practically demanded.

"Dinner with you and Miller, then I woke up at the team house and there was this guy there. I tried to fight him off but I was still doped up. I went down pretty fast. Then I woke up in that gym or wherever."

"High School," Duncan supplied.

"I thought I smelled stale torture," Richie smiled. "Had the worst couple days of my life, then I woke up here. Man, I'm telling ya, not knowing if you're gonna wake up where you went to sleep is pretty damn annoying."

"Watch your language," Greg warned as Duncan laughed. "Must be."

"Anyway," Richie continued casting Greg a look. "I take it everything went down okay?"

"We got them," Duncan nodded.

"Them? Who was the other guy?"

"Which guy did you see?"

"Chuck."

"Who?"

"The guy with the stubble, all black, bad breath, yellow teeth." Richie described. "The guy who nabbed me," he tried.

"Michael Plattman," Duncan corrected him. "I took care of him. Do you know who he was working with?"

"I have a theory."

"Which is?"

"Miller. The way I figure it, something was slipped into my food or drink while I was at dinner. The only immortals there were Dad and Miller. I mean, besides you two, he's the guy here who knows me best. I talked to him all the time."

"You trusted him and he used you," Greg said. "You have to be careful, Richie."

"I was!" Richie protested. "He's harmless. unless he's the guy behind this."

"He was," Greg told him. "He was going to kill you, kill Plattman, and take the money. He just didn't expect me to show up."

"You killed Miller?" Richie asked.

"Before he got the chance to kill you."

"Oh. okay. Guess it's over then, huh?"

"And it will stay over as long as you don't blab to everyone who's willing to pretend to be interested," Greg told him. "This is partly your fault."

"My fault?" Richie asked. "What the hell do you mean, my fault? It's not like I asked to be kidnapped!"

"But you gave him plenty of reason to," Greg pointed out. "How did he know about MacLeod's money, unless you told him?"

"He heard about Mac before I told him anything. Hell, he knew about me! And the only reason I told him anything is because you two are so damn infuriating!" Richie fumed. "I can't tell you anything!" he accused pointing at Greg. "Somehow everything is my fault with you! It's like you don't expect me to be able to do anything! You treat me like I'm still thirteen! Well, I got news for you, I'm not! I am who I am; nothing you can do will change that. I'm sorry if I disappointed you or something because I didn't turn out perfect but that. that is your fault."

"Richard Ryan." Greg started.

"No!" Richie shouted standing up and glaring down at him. "You can't do that! I'm not a little kid! You can't treat me like this! I made some mistakes, fine I'll admit it. I was an idiot! But that's life; shit happens and there's nothing you can do about it! So just deal!" he roared not pausing to take a breath. Greg sat struck dumb by Richie's behavior, just looking up at his son. "And you," Richie started up again turning to face Duncan. "You can stop looking so smug, 'cause you do the same thing. You act like I'm some child who's too young and innocent to be at fault for anything. Well, I'm not as innocent as you'd like to think. You think you know me so well. Kira was not my first, my first was long before I met you."

Greg made a shocked noise from his position next to Richie. "Just what are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything," Richie told him. "I'm not a virgin. Just because I haven't done anything with Heather, doesn't mean there haven't been others. not that you'd know. You don't seem to care. But Mac, Mac cares just a little too much. It's like if I tell you one thing, I have to tell you everything. Well, fine, you wanna know everything? I'll tell you!"

"Richie, calm down, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," Duncan told him.

"You don't mean that," Richie answered. "You wanna know; you wanna know everything. You always want to know everything! Well, here it is. Dad's the reason I didn't know how to swim when we went to the cabin, I had sex for the first time at fifteen with my foster brother's babysitter; I already knew how to install light fixtures, and patch walls, and fix boilers and all that stuff you were so proud to teach me. I already knew. I was just humoring you. Tessa thought it would be a good idea; for some reason, she thought it was just what we needed. When I moved in with you, I was planning on jetting out of there the second Dad showed up. If he ever bothered to keep a promise."

"Hey," Greg protested.

"Oh, that's right, you tried." Richie mimicked. "For pete's sake, you're immortal! You can pretend to be some fancy surgeon in Florida but you can't hack into an orphanage computer system! Come on, I can do that and I'm just a kid! Remember?!"

"Richie calm, down. It's probably just the drugs talking," Duncan suggested.

"Maybe, but it's the truth. And you want some more? I hate that everyone is so damn protective! I'm not an imbecile! I'm not stupid! I can handle myself!"

"Very well demonstrated this last weekend," Greg snorted.

"That's another thing!" Richie continued. "I hate being in your shadows! I'm either Duncan MacLeod's student or Greg Masters' son! No one ever comes after me for me; they come after me to get to you!" The last part was aimed at Duncan. "It's like I'm not good enough to have my own enemies. I have to wait until I become someone worth noticing." his tone softened considerably, as did his expression. "Well, I'm through; I'm not staying in anyone's shadow anymore. I'm a big boy now. I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can," Duncan agreed gently. Adam had been right, Richie was fishing for independence and he was holding him back. "You deserve to be on your own. I won't step in anymore. If you need anything, you can ask. It's all you, tough guy."

"Oh, man," Richie stepped away and slumped against the wall. "I'm sorry, Mac. I didn't mean."

"Of course you did," Duncan assured him getting up and going to him. "You just needed something to give you a push. I told you to stand up to Masters, I didn't think you had a problem standing up to me."

"I didn't think I did either," Richie admitted. "I don't know where all that stuff came from."

"From you," Duncan told him. "You used to tell Tessa everything. Now there's nobody to tell. It all had to come out sooner or later."

"You must hate me."

"I'm not mad, Rich," he assured him. "A little disappointed that you didn't feel you could tell me sooner, but I guess that's my fault."

"No. it.."

"Hey, no arguments, huh?"

"Okay," Richie mumbled, offering a smile. Duncan smiled back and tousled his hair.

"Richie," Greg said standing up.

Richie walked toward him. "Dad, I." he was cut off as Greg slapped him across his face.

"Masters!" Duncan yelled starting toward him.

"Mac!" Richie put an arm out to stop him.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that again," Greg instructed.

"Don't you ever touch him like that again or I'll." Duncan snarled.

"Mac, I can handle it," Richie insisted. "You got your shot; now he had his."

"Richie, I hardly think what just happened is anything like what happened with us," Duncan argued.

"How is it different?" Richie asked. "I went off on you and you hit me, I went off on him and he hit me. To me, the situations are exactly the same." He turned to Greg. "So I'll tell you what I told him. You get one free shot. which you've already had. from here on out, I swing back no questions asked. Got it?"

"You think you have the guts?" Greg challenged.

"You bet I do," Richie returned coldly. "But I don't suggest you test your theory, 'cause I'm a lot tougher than I look." With that he turned and left the kitchen.

"Masters, I'm warning you," Duncan sneered. "He hits pretty damn hard." He turned and went to pack his bag. He went up to Richie's room before he left. "I gotta get going," he told Richie. "I just thought you should know that John found the ransom note and Coach Roberts has your sword."

"Really?" Richie asked, in the middle of packing himself.

"We told him."

"Hey, you need a ride to the airport?" Richie interrupted.

"Sure." Duncan had taken a taxi to Greg's straight from the airport.

"Just let me finish here real quick." Richie shoved books and papers into his backpack and slug in over his shoulder. "Is that the money?" Richie asked, gesturing to a black suite case that was sitting at Duncan's feet.

"Yeah."

"You actually brought it?"

"Of course I did. I didn't know if this guy was mortal or not," he explained. "I wasn't going to risk you like that."

"If he was mortal he couldn't have hurt me," Richie pointed out.

"If he was mortal he wouldn't have gotten you," Duncan added. "So if he was immortal he could have hurt you."

"You really brought fifteen million dollars?"

"I happen to think you're worth it." Duncan turned to the hall. "I also think you can carry it. It's heavy."

"Really?" Richie asked, bending to pick it up. He grunted as the weight hit his shoulders. "Damn."

"We don't want me to miss my plane do we?" Duncan laughed taking the money from Richie.

With a quick "See ya," to Greg, the pair left for the airport. Duncan explained what had been going on while Richie was gone. Then Richie sat at the gate with him, talking about anything that came to mind; their fight forgotten and wounds healed.

AN: If you are asking yourself these questions: "Richie didn't know how to swim?" and "Mac hit Richie? When?" then you need to read (or I suggest you read) the UL companion stories 'A Lesson Learned' (wherein Richie learns to swim ala Mac's teaching style) and/or 'Tough Love' (wherein Mac gives Richie a black eye and a bloody nose). Any other little explanation need as to what happened in this Universe's past? Let me know. I have planned Richie's first trip to Paris that will be out some time soon as well.

Sorry guys but I don't know how soon I can update. School started today. I promise I am not abandoning the story (or Finding Time) but have simply been hit with reality.