AN- Thanks as ever for the reviews, hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

***

The sudden silence spurred Duncan into action. Casting a dark look at Joe, that promised future retribution, he pushed open the door and disappeared in the bedroom.

Left outside Methos, Joe and Connor looked awkwardly at each other.

"I'm sorry," Joe apologised. "I didn't know .."

"I thought you people were trained in observation?" Connor's tone was clipped. "Isn't this in his Watcher file?"

"Well, it will be now." Methos put in.

"Hey, Richie's a friend .." Joe replied, stung. "And we talk all the time. He's never mentioned that he was afraid of the dark."

"Generally, with Richie, its the things he doesn't talk about that you need to pay attention to." Methos observed.

"Haven't you noticed how he always has at least a couple of lights burning?" Connor demanded. "Or the way he always has a flashlight in his pocket?"

"And there was I, thinking he was just pleased to see me." Methos murmured.

Connor gave him a quelling look.

"I just thought .." Joe trailed off. "I guess, I didn't think. God .." he scrubbed at his face. "What do we do now?"

"We let Duncan handle it." Connor said, with grim finality.

"But .." Joe looked worriedly in the direction of the closed bedroom door.

"Go back to bed Joe," Methos advised. "Duncan will feel guilty enough, when he calms down, without you standing out here in the cold all night."

"I suppose you're right," Joe sighed. "Goodnight all."

"And are you going to take your own advice?" Connor quirked a knowing brow at the ancient Immortal.

"The difference is, I like making Duncan feel guilty." Methos replied lightly.

Connor snorted his opinion of that.

"Admit it, you have a soft spot for the lad."

Methos wrinkled his nose.

"Can you smell burning?"

"Oh, lord," Connor exclaimed. "I left the soup pan on the stove."

"This is what happens when you take the batteries out of the smoke alarm to put them in the TV remote." Methos pointed out.

"As I recall, that was your idea." Connor said testily, as he sped towards the stairs. "By the way, nice boxers." He threw back over his shoulder.

Methos looked down at the red silk boxers, decorated with little black devils, as if he had forgotten that he was even wearing them.

"They were a present." He announced to the empty hallway.

***
Inside the room Duncan snapped on the light and was not surprised to see that the bed was empty, its covers strewn across the floor as if its occupant had fought and struggled to escape from the bedding's clutches.

He couldn't see Richie anywhere.

But he didn't need the steady buzz of an Immortal presence to locate the lad, the soft whimpers and snuffling breathes of a distressed child were indication enough.

"Hey." He spoke softly.

Large blue eyes lifted to blink fuzzily at him. Richie had pressed himself back into the farthest corner of the room, in the small gap between the dresser and the wall. With his knees pulled up hard against his chest and his bare arms wrapped around them, he looked uncannily like the child he remembered himself to be.

"Did you have a bit of a scare?" Duncan asked kindly, hunkering down on one knee a few feet from the lad. Lord knows, the last thing he needed was to spook him any further.

Richie took a shallow, quavering, breath, but didn't speak.

"Its alright now," Duncan soothed. "See? I've put the light on for you. You're safe now."

If anything, Richie whimpered even more loudly, his evident distress cutting Duncan to the soul.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he encouraged.

"Not safe … Smoke .." Richie tried to press himself a little further into the wall.

It was on the tip of Duncan's tongue to tell him that all was well, when he realised that he too could smell smoke.

"For Lord's sake Connor," he muttered at his absent teacher.

For Richie, he mustered a reassuring smile. "Its alright Rich, its just your Uncle Connor, burning the soup. Serves him right, he spent years thinking cooking was nothing but woman's work, you know."

To be fair, Duncan had also been raised that way.

But he didn't think Richie needed to know that right now.

"Its nothing to worry about." He tried to ally the lad's fears. He looked worryingly pale for an Immortal.

"Please .. don't leave me .." Richie hiccupped. "Please .. I'll be good."

"Rich," Duncan hastened to reassure. "I'm right here and I'm not leaving you."

Inwardly, he cursed himself. Hadn't he just done exactly that? No wonder the lad was upset, waking up in the dark in a strange place, with no ..

"He did," Richie's hesitant voice cut into his thoughts. "He locked me in my room and then he left me."

"What?" Duncan blinked.

"There was this big noise and the whole building shook and I could smell the smoke but I couldn't get out .. I tried real hard but I just couldn't .. and then it was real dark ..and I was all alone." Richie's voice rose in sheer panic.

Duncan could stand it no longer, he reached out and pulled the almost hysterical child, for it was difficult to think of Richie as anything but a frightened child right now, into his lap and wrapped his arms around him.

"Sh, laddie, Da's here," he soothed. "You're safe. I've got you," He kissed the top of the blonde curls. "And I'm not leaving you."

***

 "What did you put in that Hot Chocolate?" Duncan asked, as he absently stroked the sweat soaked blonde hair back from Richie's brow, as he tucked him into his own bed in Connor's ground floor den.

Methos turned around from opening the window, to dispel the last of the lingering smell of smoke, to look at the young Immortal, who had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep.

"Does it matter? It did the trick and it can't kill him."

"I wasn't aware that your license to dispense was still current." Duncan said dryly.

"Actually," Methos busied himself, unnecessarily straightening the covers on Richie's bed, refusing to meet Duncan's eyes. "I got it renewed."

"Oh?" Duncan pulled the armchair a little closer to the foldaway bed.

"Teaching your student, I thought I might need it," Methos grumbled. "I've never known anyone who manages to get himself hurt or injured on such a regular basis."

"He's Immortal." Duncan reminded him.

"And that will be $200 for the house call." Methos nodded at Richie's empty mug.

"Point taken," Duncan gave a rueful grin. "So, is this one of those postal diplomas, from the University of Mastercard?"

"Of course not!" Methos looked faintly shocked. "Do you have any idea how many advances there have been in medical science over the last decade alone?"

Duncan sat up a little straighter.

"So, all those times you've been running Rich to College, you've actually been going to Medical School?"

"Pre-med." Methos made a face. "There have been a lot of changes."

"Well, I suppose if you can spend a decade being an eternal History Post Graduate, or whatever it was, you can afford to spend a few years putting yourself through med school," Duncan grinned, as a thought occurred to him. "Are you going to have to get a job? I hear the local burger bar is looking for staff. Those little hats would really suit you."

"Dream on, Macleod." Methos wandered over to the sideboard, and pulled out a beer. "Ben Adams has a nice fat legacy, from an extremely wealthy maiden Aunt. The way Richie eats I thought I'd need the extra income."

"Do you have any idea what he talking about tonight?" Duncan asked quietly. "Has he ever said anything to you about anything like that?"

"No," Methos shrugged, "But I'd say he was most likely locked in his room when there was a fire or accident of some sort."

"That's what I thought too," Duncan sighed. "How do you think he got out?"

Methos looked at him seriously over the top of his beer bottle.

"My guess is, he didn't."