The drive back to the Motel was quiet and uneventful. At least, in the sheltered reaches of Connor's imagination.
"Where are we going?" Richie demanded.
"Back to the Motel, so Connor can settle up." Methos told him.
"Is he a pimp?" Richie asked.
"What?" Connor spluttered.
"Cos, I'm not supposed to talk to him if he is. Margie said so."
"Is Margie, your foster mother?" Methos asked.
"Naw," Richie laughed. "She's one of the Prostitutes who hang out down East Street. She's nice. She buys me hot dogs sometimes."
"I'm not a pimp," Connor protested. "I'm your Uncle Connor."
"So, you're Mac?" Richie looked at Methos.
"Heaven forbid," the ancient Immortal rolled his eyes. "I'm .. um .. Adam. I'm your teacher."
"You mean like in School?" Richie frowned. "Don't I gotta call you Mr Something?"
"We're on vacation." Methos told him.
"OK, cool." Richie sat back.
"How long do you think this will last?" Connor muttered in Gaelic.
"Not that long," Methos shrugged.
"Thank the Lord for that."
"At the very worst he'll grow out of it in a few years."
"You know," Connor said tightly. "Sometimes, I seriously question how you have managed to live so long."
"I'm very wise and ancient."
"Well, oh wise and ancient one, what do you suggest that we do with him?"
Methos considered that.
"Let's take him back to New York. Many a good nights rest will resolve matters."
"Fair enough," Connor agreed. "As addled as his brains are now, he's probably safer away from the livestock anyway."
"And besides," Methos smirked. "Would you really fancy driving all the way to Montana with a ten year old in the back of the car?"
***
"Wow," Richie wandered through the enormous, sunken, living room of Connor's apartment. "I really live here?"
"For now," Connor agreed.
"Oh," Richie sucked in his cheeks. "When, do I have to go back?"
"To Montana?" Connor wondered.
"To the Orphanage." Richie scowled.
Connor cursed himself for a fool. Of course, the lad would think that.
"Richie," Connor told him seriously. "We're family. Family doesn't send each other away."
"Yeah, right. You're the fifth "Uncle" I've had so far this year. It only counts till you and my foster Mom break up." Richie reminded him.
"This isn't like that," Connor shook his head. "I'm your Uncle, as in your Father's kin."
"You know my Dad?" Richie stopped dead. A huge grin blossoming on his face. "Where is he? Is he here? Did he send you to get me? I knew. I knew he'd come back for me. He didn't know my Mom was dead, right? Or he would have come for me before."
"Richie," Connor made a face. "About your father .."
"He's not coming?" As fast as the smile had appeared on Richie's face it disappeared. "He doesn't want me, does he? He dumped me on you guys."
"Don't be daft lad," Connor's no nonsense dismissal probably did far more to reassure Richie than any earnest protestations would have done. "Duncan would no more wash his hands of you than he would cut off his right arm."
"So, where is he?" Richie asked.
"He's in France."
"And they don't have phones there?" Richie crossed his arms.
"Of course, they have phones," Connor was stuck with sudden inspiration. "But you can't call him at work."
Maybe if they stalled long enough, Richie would recover and no-one would have to tell Duncan that they had allowed his precious lad to come to harm.
"Is he like .. a Spy?" Richie bounced on his toes. "You know, like James Bond? On a secret mission?"
Connor looked heavenwards and prayed Methos would hurry up and return..
***
"Hey," Methos came in juggling carrier bags and boxes. "Anyone want to give me a hand here?"
"Where have you been?" Connor hissed.
"Shopping." Methos nodded at the parcels.
"For two hours?" Connor wasn't mollified. "You said you were just popping out to get the lad a few things."
"You said you could handle a spot of baby sitting," Methos reminded him. "At least, he didn't kill you this time. What have you done with him anyway?"
"You name it, we've done it," Connor sighed. "We watched TV, played some ball, tried cooking, worked out for a bit, the lad has boundless energy and the attention span of a goldfish."
"So, where is he now?" Methos wondered.
"Taking a nap." Connor said smugly.
"What did you bribe him with?" Methos asked knowingly.
"Chocolate." Connor admitted.
"Oh yeah, that's gonna calm him down," Methos said sarcastically. "Is this how you raised Rachel ..?"
"Of course not." Connor grinned. "Its the Uncle's job to spoil their nephew. Lord knows, the lads had little enough of it in his life. Speaking of which, what on earth did you buy him?"
"A few videos, some CD's, a Soccer Ball and some books."
"Does Richie like Soccer?" Connor wondered.
"I like Soccer," Methos shrugged. "And if we tell him he does, he won't know any different will he?"
"Is that why you bought him the books?" Connor arched a brow.
"Wait and see." Methos smirked.
Predictably, Richie was excited about the very idea of getting "so many presents" and exclaimed over each and every one. But it was clear which was his favourite.
"Oh, wow, books!" Richie fell on them.
"You like books?" Connor couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.
"I only have three right now," Richie told him. "Cos, they're pretty expensive. But when I'm grown, I'm gonna have a whole roomful."
Connor frowned at some of the titles Methos had picked.
"You don't think they're a little difficult for a twelve year old?"
"I'm pretty bright you know. I got all A's on my last report card." Richie said proudly, already settling down to read.
"The lad's had a knock on the head and no mistake," Connor observed softly, as they pulled the door to behind them. "The Richie we know doesn't own any reading matter but Motorcycle Magazines and the other sort of Magazine. And I'll warrant he's not buying those for the articles."
"He doesn't like reading anymore," Methos agreed. "But he'll listen to a tale for as long as you'll speak."
"So, why doesn't he read?"
"You heard him," Methos shrugged, "Books are expensive. And, they're also difficult to take with you when you run."
***
Connor looked up from his chopping as the intercom went.
"Excepting anyone else for dinner?" Methos asked.
Connor shook his head, as he wiped his hands on a cloth, picked up his sword and went to the door. He felt something in his soul still when he found Joe on his doorstep.
The Watcher looked tired and haggard and his eyes were empty. That could only mean one thing.
Someone had died.
"I'm sorry," Joe managed.
"You'd better come in."
Methos looked up sharply as they came into the kitchen. His expression went blank.
"Who?" he asked flatly.
"Is it Duncan?" Connor asked.
"No," Joe shook his head sharply. "He's .. alive."
"Alive?" Methos clarified.
"Well, I can't imagine he's feeling too good right now," Joe sighed. "Richie's dead."
"Richie?" Connor's voice rose. "That's why you .. because you .. Richie?"
"Yeah, Uncle Connor?" Richie skidded in, breathlessly, looking a bit apprehensive. "I was just looking. I wasn't touching the swords."
"Richie?" Joe blinked.
"Richie, this is Joe," Methos put in quickly. "He just wanted to say hi."
"Hi," Richie gave him an odd look. "Can I go now?"
"Aye lad," Connor allowed. "Leave the swords be." He called after him.
"Is he alright?" Joe wondered. "He seemed a little ..."
"He's fine," Methos nodded. "He's just twelve, right now."
"What?"
"Long story," Methos shrugged.
"Please tell me you haven't told Duncan that his little one is dead?" Connor groaned.
"No, I didn't." Joe shook his head.
"Well, that's a blessing." Connor relaxed.
"But Mike did." Joe winced.
"So, where is he now?" Methos looked up.
Joe shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Um. Well. I imagine he's coming here."
"You imagine?" Methos arched a brow.
"We lost him." Joe sighed. "He was moving pretty fast."
***
Given the speed with which Duncan actually arrived from France, Connor guessed he must have chartered a private jet.
He looked tired and haggard and totally spent.
"Do ye know?" he rasped, swaying slightly on his feet.
"Duncan, he's alive," Connor spoke gently. "Richie's alive. He's right here with us."
"He's no dead?" Duncan blinked at him, like a deer caught in the headlights. "Ma Richie's no dead?"
"No cousin," Connnor pulled him into a hug, "Your bonnie lad will be just fine."
Or, at least, Connor sincerely hoped so.
"Where is he?" Duncan demanded, looking around.
"Well, he was right here a moment ago," Connor assured him. "But Duncan about that .."
He stopped as he saw Duncan's eyes lock on something over his shoulder.
"Richie."
In two quick strides, Duncan crossed to the young man, half hidden by the towering potted plant and wrapped his arms around him. Breathing in the scent of his hair.
"Lord, its good to see you lad."
From the folds of Duncan's coat Richie's voice quavered uncertainly. "D Dad?"