AN – Thanks so much for the reviews. I guess I know where you guys want this to go! I'm up for that. A little plot development first – father/son bonding coming real soon.

***

It wasn't as if Richie had never called him Dad before.

At times, it was a long suffering, Yes Daaaad, when Richie thought he was being overly protective. On other occasions, it was a jokey, but semi-serious, Thanks …Dad,  when Duncan has shared the benefit of his long life and great experience.

But just sometimes, if they were alone, and he was feeling especially safe and well loved, a hint of the lad's true feelings slipped out.

He remembered, vividly, the first time that had happened.

"Hang on, just a sec," Richie had said into the phone, "Do you want anchovies on your half Dad?"

Mac had just stood in the corner of the kitchen, trying to pick his jaw off the floor.

"Um. Earth to Mac?" Richie had teased, apparently completely oblivious to what he had just said. "Do you want anchovies on your  pizza, or not?"

This wasn't like that.

Duncan's first reaction, was to the hesitant, almost fearful, tone. Hugging the lad well, in reassurance, before pulling back, keeping a hand on each shoulder, to search his face.

He saw absolutely nothing in the child's shy, uncertain, expression, that he recognised.

"Richie," he cupped the lad's chin gently. "What's wrong?"

"This, might take a while." Methos, spoke up. "You'll probably need a beer .. or three."

"Can I have one?" Richie piped up.

"No, you can't." Connor cut in.

"Soda?" Richie bargained.

"Cola? At this time of night?" Connor shook his head. "You'll have milk and cookies my lad and like it."

"Milk?" Richie said the word like it was poison.

"You want to make it warm milk?" Connor arched a brow.

"Yucky." Richie made a face.

"Alright," Duncan finally found his voice. "What exactly is going on here?"

***

"He really thinks he's twelve?" Duncan breathed. "But  .. how?"

"I think," Methos mused. "The question we need to be asking, is why?"

"And the difference is?" Connor put in.

"Why twelve?" Methos clarified. "Why not ten? Or fourteen? Or eight?"

"Could it have something to do with the nightmare?" Connor asked.

"He had a nightmare?" Duncan looked worried.

"At the Motel. He seemed to be sleeping sounding enough. At least, at first. Then he started getting restless and saying .. things."

"What kind of things?" Duncan insisted.

Connor told him.

"Damn," Duncan looked away. "Its been years since he had that one. I'd hoped .."

He looked back at his teacher.

"What were you doing in a Motel?"

"You couldn't just have asked me, how I woke him?" Connor sighed.

"No, I .." Duncan frowned. "Why how did you wake him?"

"Badly," Methos put in. "Richie killed him. The great Connor Macloed, bested by a slip of a lad." He adopted a fake Scottish accent.

"Really?" In spite of himself, Duncan's lip quirked.

"He had a knife under his pillow. I guess we all know who taught him that little trick." Connor scowled at Methos.

"It wasn't Methos," Duncan said woodenly. "Richie learnt that trick long before he met any of us."

 "And you just turned a blind eye?" Connor scolded. "I taught you better than that."

"He just needed a sense of security .."

"You couldn't have bought him a Teddy Bear?" Connor shot back.

"I figured he's grow out of it as soon as he realised he could trust us." Duncan said. "And he did."

"Which begs the question, why did he feel it needed it the other night?" Connor wondered. "He knows he's safe with us."

"Maybe he was afraid of the wallpaper," Methos joked.

At Duncan's quizzical look he clarified.

"It was from the 1970's. Anyone would be scared."

"Or maybe it had something to do with the Quickening?" Connor tried to get things back on track.

"He took a Quickening?" Duncan frowned. "Whose?"

"Now you come to mention it .." Connor frowned. "I never thought to ask."

"I was just happy he's dead," Methos said. "Of course, that was before I knew we were going to have to stock up on peanut butter and jelly."

"I'm going to call Joe." Duncan looked for the phone.

"You don't have to," Connor smiled. "He's in the spare room."

***

If Joe was surprised to be woken at such a late hour, he was feeling too guilty to complain about it.

"He name was Simon Franklin," Joe looked at his notes. "Look, Mac, I'm really, sorry about before ..."

"He's alive Joe. That's all that matters." Duncan said flatly.

Joe winced. It was clearly going to take himself some time to work his way back into the Immortal's good books. And what he was about to tell him wasn't going to help.

"Franklin?" Connor frowned. "Never heard of him."

"Not surprising," Joe put in. "He's only been Immortal a few years. Found himself a good enough teacher. But he's only taken one Quickening in that time. He seems to spend most of his times trying to avoid fighting."

"So, Richie challenged him?" Methos frowned.

Duncan and Methos exchanged a look. Richie could be hot headed, but both his teachers had drummed into him that you didn't take a challenge unless you had to, and the lad was no head hunter to seek the pleasure of the kill.

"No," Joe took a deep breath. "As far as we can tell Franklin issued the challenge."

"He thought Richie was an easy kill." Duncan realised.

"And he cheated." Methos put in.

"Methos," Connor looked at him. "This may come as a surprise to you. But not everyone cheats."

"This isn't about me," Methos defended himself. "This is about Richie. There is no way a novice like Franklin could have inflicted that kind of damage on him in  a fair fight."

"Damage?" Duncan frowned. "What damage?"

"Bad," Methos told him.

"How bad?" Duncan insisted.

"Allowed himself to be given a bath and put to bed, bad," Methos shrugged. "Of course, he was unconscious some of the time .."

"Only some of it?" Duncan shook his head, glancing over fondly, to where Richie, who had declared himself to be "not even a bit tired" was sleeping on the couch.

"It wasn't Franklin," Joe sighed. "Richie took him in a fair fight, even gave him a chance to walk away, it was during the Quickening."

"Oh, not again .." Duncan paled.

"No," Methos shook his head. "He was definitely himself when we collected him from the Police Station."

"Police Station?" Duncan was not having a good day.

"Duncan, hush." Connor scolded. "What about the Quickening, Joseph?"

Joe swallowed. This wasn't a fate he'd wish on his worst enemy. Never mind a friend.

"The building fell on him."

***

"He had to dig himself out?" Connor was the first one to find his voice.

It wasn't something he had ever had to endure. But he could imagine the scenario. Trapped alone in the dark. Never knowing when the next piece you move might kill you yet again. Fearing that it might cause an injury from which you couldn't revive. Hungry. Thirsty. Increasingly exhausted.

Scared and alone.

"How long?"

Something about the quality of Methos voice suggested that he knew exactly what the experience was like.

And he wasn't about to share.

"His Watcher was new," Joe admitted reluctantly. "When the building came down he just assumed that Richie wasn't going anywhere .. so it wouldn't matter if he took a little holiday before he filled his report."

"How long Joseph?" Duncan added his voice to Methos.

"A week."

"Is he dead yet?" Methos asked.

"Adam .." Joe appealed to the Watcher.

"Then you'd better send him to Siberia. Because if he ever crosses my path, its not just his employment that will be terminated." The ancient Immortal replied.

"Stand in line." Duncan told him.

"I'll .. deal with it," Joe promised them. "You guys take care of Richie."

"Sure," Methos murmured. "Give us the easy part."

***

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The beer that appeared in Methos field of vision made it a fair bet that he wasn't about to tell Duncan to leave. At least, not immediately..

But that didn't mean that he was ready to talk.

"I dealt with my demons a long time ago, Macleod," Methos deflected. "Right now, we need to worry about Richie."

"We always need to worry about Richie." Duncan smiled.

"He is a full time job, isn't he?" Methos smiled fondly.

"I dinna want to say this in front of Joe, but did Richie ever tell you ..?" Duncan hesitated, uncomfortable at sharing anything the lad might see as a confidence.

"That he's terrified of the dark?" Methos finished for him. "I found out."

"Camping?" Duncan teased.

"Please." Methos shuddered.

Duncan looked pensively over the brightly skyline. "Its almost never dark these days. Especially in cities .."

He let the thought trail off.

But beside him, he felt the ancient Immortal tense.

There were any number of reasons that Richie might be afraid of the dark.

None of them good.

"Go and wake Richie and put him to bed," Methos shook his head. "You know, you're dying to."

"Brush his teeth and put on his jammies?" Duncan grinned. "He'll no let me."

"He's twelve," Methos smirked. "He'll do as he's told, or you can ground him."

"It would be wrong, wouldn't it?" Duncan's lips quirked. "To enjoy the lad's infirmity too much?"

Methos gave that serious consideration.

For all of about thirty seconds.

"But think of all the fun we can have."