Richie stepped off the plane and scanned the crowd. He didn't see Conner. He had wandered out a bit further into the waiting area when he was grabbed from behind and lifted into the air by two strong arms.

"Agh!"

"It's good to see you, lad!" a voice said from behind him.

"Uncle Conner?"

"Who did you think it was?" Conner asked, putting Richie down.

"I don't know," Richie admitted turning around to give Conner a proper hug.

"Let's get your luggage and get you home."

Two hours later, Richie got his first glimpse of Conner's apartment. "It's bigger than our house," he breathed. "It's just you here?"

"You, too, for now. maybe next year. Have they responded?"

"Not yet. I don't know if I'm going to get in."

"Why not, I saw your portfolio; you do great work."

Richie shrugged. "It doesn't matter what you and Mom think; it matters what they think."

"Well, you call me as soon as you get the letter."

"I promise."

"Speaking of promises. you promised me pictures of this dog of yours."

"Yeah, I got 'em right.." Richie dug around in his backpack. "Here." He pulled out a fist full of snap shots. "Mom got a hold of the camera," he apologized.

Conner looked through the pictures of the boy and his dark brown spotted dog. "What kind is he?"

"He's part Dalmatian, part chocolate lab, part Australian shepherd. A real mutt; isn't he cute?"

"What's his name, Buddy?"

"Yeah."

"He is a cute one. Does he going running with you?"

"Yeah, he goes with me and Nathan every morning. Nathan's keeping him while I'm here."

"Can I keep a few of these?" Conner asked.

"Yeah, they're all spares. Mom always gets double prints."

"Great, I'm sure Rachel will want one. She's been dying to meet you."

"Rachel?"

"My daughter."

"I didn't know you had a daughter. How old is she?"

"Much older than you."

"When do I get to meet her?"

"Tonight at dinner. She's meeting us at Corinelli's at seven thirty. Which means we have several hours to kill. Do you want to rest or explore?"

"Explore," Richie answered automatically.

Three hours later, they were back at the apartment to change for dinner. Richie was rambling at top speed as he listed off all the places he wanted to go over the next week.

"Slow down, cowboy. We have all week. Put things in priority so we can get all the important stuff done first. We'll do all we can. Now go change into something nice."

A Forty minute cab ride later.

"This is it?" Richie asked, looking around the dimly lit restaurant. "Looks kinda expensive for a normal dinner."

"This isn't a normal dinner," Conner told him. "It's your first dinner in New York and you and Rachel are meeting for the first time. and it's my favorite." He put an arm around Riche's shoulders. "Besides, I hear you like lobster."

"They have lobster?"

"Sure do; the best in town. MacLeod for three," he told the maitre'd.

"Ah, Mr. MacLeod. Ms. Ellenstein is already here. Right this way."

Conner and Richie followed the man to a secluded corner of the restaurant. An older woman sat at a table waiting for them. "Conner," she got up and hugged him.

"Rachel, how are you?"

"I'm doing well." They let go. "And you must be Richie."

"It's nice to meet you," Richie said politely sticking out his hand.

"Bah!" Rachel pushed his hand away and gave him a hug. "Family doesn't shake hands," she told him.

"Okay," he answered awkwardly.

"Rachel, let the lad breathe," Conner cut in.

Rachel smiled at Richie as she let him go and they took their seats. The waiter came to take their order and Conner took it upon himself to order for the table.

"And he," he said, nodding his head towards Richie. "Will have the lobster tails as it comes and a house salad with French dressing. Sprite to drink. And be sure to bring the desert tray by later."

"Very good, sir." The waiter left.

"Did I get it wrong?" Conner asked at Richie's odd look.

"No, just. nobody's ordered for me since I was a little kid."

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make feel like a child. It's a habit."

"Hey, you got it right, I'm not complaining," Richie assured him. ""Specially not when the desert tray's involved."

Rachel giggled. "Cute and funny, the girls must be coming left and right."

Richie blushed self-consciously. "Not really. They pretty much leave me alone."

"They must figure you're taken. You have to make the first move. Any girls in mind?"

"Eghh. not really. I got to private school so most of the girls are snobs. Not really interested in me. And the public school girls won't look at me because I go to private school. So."

"No girl stands out?"

"Well."

"Yes?"

"Ginger," he admitted. "But we're friends and I made that mistake in Washington. Things were weird for a while."

"Does she seem interested?"

"I don't know. How can you tell?"

"Does she."

"Rachel, the boy doesn't need love advice," Conner cut in.

"Yeah, I do!" Richie insisted. "How can you tell?"

Rachel ticked off the signs until their salads came. Then she made the mistake of asking Richie what he wanted to do while he was in New York and Richie dominated the conversation until the desert came. Once Conner paid the bill, which he refused to let Richie see, they set off for home. Rachel promised to be by later that week.

"Well, lad, I think it's time for all baseball fans to get ready for bed," Conner said as they entered the apartment.

"Bed? It's nine o'clock," he protested.

"The tour starts early," Conner told him.

"Tour?"

"Yes, there's a tour of the stadium before the game."

"Stadium? Yankee stadium?"

"The one and only."

"There's a game?"

"Exhibition."

"And you have tickets?"

"Two right behind the home dugout. Hopefully we can get you some autographs. But."

"But?"

"You need to get some sleep. We have to get up early."

"Okay." Richie started off then stopped. "Um. where do I sleep?"

. . . . . .

"I'm going to need a whole new suitcase for all the stuff you keep getting me," Richie joked as he followed Conner to the check out counter at the mall.

"We still have four days to get you one if we need to," Conner said nonchalantly.

"How come you keep buying me stuff?"

"I have years of birthdays and the like to make up for."

"You don't gotta make up for that stuff, Uncle Conner."

"Well, I was your uncle this past Christmas and I didn't get you anything."

"I wasn't expecting you to. 'Specially not after all that stuff you got me for my birthday. I figured that kinda covered both."

"Nonsense. I didn't send anything for Christmas because I wanted to make sure you got what you wanted. So I decided to wait until you got here to do the shopping."

"Oh," Richie said eyeing the monitor as the clerk rang up their purchases.

"Besides," Conner added, taking Richie's chin in his hand to avert his gaze as the final total appeared. "What good is being an uncle if I can't spoil my nephew and send him home for his parents to deal with?"

"Guess I'm just not used to it," Richie admitted as he picked up two of the five bags they had accumulated while wondering the city.

"So where do you have left on your list to go?" Conner asked.

"Metropolitan Museum of Art."

"That's it?"

"That's it. We've been everywhere else. And I told Mom I'd check it out."

"You know, Richie, you talk a lot about Tessa, but you haven't said much about Duncan. Is everything okay?" Tessa had told Conner about the fights in hopes that he could help Richie feel better about the situation.

"I don't see him much, that's all," Richie shrugged. "Can I have some ice cream?" he asked as they approached a vender.

"Not now. Is everything okay between you and Duncan?"

"There's nothing to be okay about," Richie said. "I never see him, and when I do. it's only when he's out of his office and yelling at me."

"Do you get in trouble a lot?"

"No. he's just. cranky a lot. I get in the way."

"Does your mom get in the way?"

"She kinda puts herself there. See. they fight a lot. Like, every night. It's getting pretty bad."

"Bad how?" Conner asked.

"I wouldn't be surprised if I went home to divorced parents bad. I'm pretty sure someone sleeps in the guestroom every night. I never see them speak to each other; I just hear them yell after I go to bed. Mom knows I can hear it all and she tries to keep it down. it doesn't really work well."

"She says she finds you on the roof a lot."

"I know it scares her. but it's the only place I can't hear them. And now I have to close the window to block them out. Pretty soon the whole neighborhood is gonna be able to hear them. People are gonna start calling the cops on us.," he trailed off. "But hey. at least I'm too old for CPS, right?"

"Richie," Conner stopped walking. "If you're upset about this, just say it."

"What's that gonna change?" Richie asked him. "They risked their own butts, adopted me and moved straight across the country and now all they do is fight."

"Richie, do you think this is your fault?"

"Mom already gave me this speech, okay?"

"Well, you obviously didn't understand. Richie, Duncan is a. once he starts a project. you see, Rich."

"You don't have to defend him, Uncle Conner," Richie said and then started to walk again.

"I just want to make sure you know that you had nothing to do with this."

"Then how come they fight about me?"

"I'm sure it's a lot of things. People have the uncanny ability to hear their names whenever mentioned. I'm sure you've missed a few things."

"Maybe."

Conner got an idea. "Hey, you know we probably want a whole day for the museum. So why don't we do that tomorrow?"

"Okay."

"So that gives us all afternoon to fill. Can you keep a secret?"

"From who?"

"Well, you'd have to keep it from your parents."

"I tell Mom pretty much everything."

"Then we'll do something else," Conner decided.

"What were you gonna say? I mean, if we don't do it, there's no secret, right?"

"But you'd want to do it. And then there'd be a secret. I'm not going to ask you to do that."

"How come I gotta keep it a secret?"

"Because it is something both your parents refused to let me do while I was visiting."

"You mean. Can we? I won't tell."

"Richie, are you sure?"

"Yeah. I promise I won't tell. Please?"

"Okay. but you have to wear the mask."

"Okay."

"And you can't tell."

"Okay."

"And do you know what we're going to do?" Conner asked. Richie was so quick to agree, he wasn't sure.

"Swords right?" Richie asked.

By the time Richie had to leave for school, he didn't want to leave at all. He promised to call as soon as he got his acceptance letter to the New York Art Conservatory. He promised to do his best in all his classes. He promised to be understanding about the situation at home. He promised to call or write once a week. He promised to send him a graduation invitation and a set of senior photos. He promised to work on his paintings for the art auction. He promised to do everything he was asked to do. Even if having Duncan MacLeod as a father was a bust. there was still another MacLeod interested in him. Nathan's father lived in Iowa. and New York was a lot closer than Iowa.

"Bye, Richie!" Conner called out as Richie went through airport security. "Be good, okay!"

"Sure, Uncle Conner. I'm always good!"

Conner laughed as he watched the boy give his ticket to the checker and walk down the ramp toward his plane. He had tried to reassure Richie that Duncan really did care about him and that he and Tessa were fine and would have had problems anyway, but he was positive that Richie didn't believe him. When Duncan came back from Europe, he'd most certainly be getting a wake up call from Conner.

When he could no longer see the boy, Conner gave one last wave and walked out to the car. He had some planning to do if he was to verbally out maneuver Duncan into admitting he was wrong. Perhaps Tessa would have some ideas.