AN – Thanks so much for the reviews. Sorry for the delay, I've been really sick. Luckily this was mostly written already, so I've only had to tweak bits. And yes – Richie will remember everything! And I mean, everything. (You'll see)

***

"I take it, Amanda is still not answering her phone?" Connor raised a brow, as Duncan slammed down the phone with a growl.

"No," Duncan scrubbed at his face and tried to collect himself.

"I told you," Methos didn't take off his headphones, which were tinily hissing rock music. "She'll be on the plane by now."

"So, you've said. More than once." Duncan glared at him. "How can you hear what we're saying with that stuff blasting away, anyway?"

"I'm lip reading," Methos shrugged. "And this stuff is R.E.M. which I have it on good authority that you quite like."

"You do?" Connor raised a brow. "I taught you better than that kinsman." He teased.

"I can tolerate it, at a low volume," Duncan huffed. "Speaking of which, I thought you bought that for Richie?"

"I did," Methos shrugged. "I just haven't given it to him yet."

"You'd better go face the music, Duncan," Connor advised. "The traffic can be a nightmare at this time of day. No sense in compounding your sins by being late picking her up at the airport."

"Maybe, I can pick up some trinket to soothe her ruffled feathers on the way." Duncan reached for his coat. "I just need to tell Richie where I'm going."

"Hang on," Methos pulled off the headphones. "You stay here. I'll go and collect Amanda."

"What? Why?" Duncan asked.

"Because, cute as Richie is when he gets all pouty and jealous, I think he's had enough upsets in his life these last few days."

"Richie isn't jealous of Amanda."

"Your Richie isn't," Methos assured him. "But this Richie isn't going to take too kindly to dear old Dad coming home with a new pretty lady friend on his arm."

"He has a point," Connor put in. "The boy just found you, he isn't going to want to share."

"Somehow, I don't see Amanda as a visiting maiden Aunt." Duncan pointed out.

"So, we'll tell him she's my girlfriend." Methos suggested.

"You'll what ..?" Duncan spluttered.

"Its not like it'll be the first time." Methos shrugged.

Duncan's jaw dropped.

"You never did tell us how you two first met?" Connor enquired with a grin.

"Didn't I?" Methos said. He picked up the keys to Connor's car and left.

***

"And he's coming down the court .. and there's just one man between him and the net .." Richie kept up a running commentary as he dribbled the basketball down the hallway.

Duncan bit back a grin. When he was first training Richie, he had occasionally chided the lad for talking when he should be saving his breath for fighting, but as his stamina grew, he had encouraged him to taunt his opponents with his wisecracks, people who lost control of there emotions made more mistakes. Richie's sharp wit and fast tongue was one of his best weapons.

"And he feints to the left .." Richie went right, "and he's approaching the hoop .."

Laughing, Duncan made a token effort to block the lad, unfortunately, Richie's momentum was too great to allow him to stop in his stocking feet on the polished wooden floor and he kept right on sliding, bring the coat rack that they were using as a basketball hoop crashing down onto the hall table, with enough force to smash a large china vase.

"Oh shit," Richie looked up at Duncan with worry and consternation.

Before he could rebuke the lad for his language, Duncan realised that he had other things to worry about. Attracted by the noise, Connor was standing in the doorway, and his teacher did not look pleased.

"Sorry," Duncan shrugged sheepishly. "I'll pay for the vase."

"Remind me again which one of you is supposed to be twelve?" Connor scowled.

"Maybe we could stick it back together?" Richie offered nervously.

Connor pursed his lips, looking down at the shattered pieces and then up at the lad's anxious pinched face.

"Oh, what the … I never liked the dammed monstrosity anyway." He looked at Richie, "I looked out some books you might like, they're on the coffee table. Why don't you go and take a look?"

"Books?" Richie was on his feet in a single bound, which had Duncan casting a smug look at his teacher, he took three steps towards the living room, before turning back on his heel. "Um.. don't you want I should help clean this up?"

"If I let you clean this up, you'd like as not cut yourself my lad," Connor scoffed. "Away with you."

"I suppose that means I get stuck with clean up duty." Duncan groused, once Richie was out of earshot.

"You'd be as like to cut yourself as the boy," Connor shook his head, as he headed towards the closet for a broom. "Just get out from under my feet."

Surprised to be let off so easily, Duncan just shrugged. "OK."

He almost made it to the door.

Almost.

"Although, if you were of a mind to do me a favour .." Connor's voice drifted back.

***

"So, why exactly am I doing this?," Duncan chewed his pencil and looked again at his list.

"Think of it as penance," Connor chuckled, as he tipped the last of the shards of pottery into the refuge sack. "Good for the soul."

"Yeah, but why this?" Duncan scribbled something else on his list.

"The boy needs some new clothes."

"What happened to the clothes Methos bought him?"

"Chocolate cake, Cola, Melted Butter, and Ketchup," Connor ticked them off. "These modern detergents aren't always as good as they claim."

"Oh," Duncan grinned. "Well, I think that about covers it." He offered Connor the list.

Connor took it from him.

"You missed something." He handed it back.

"I did?" Duncan frowned, scrutinising the list. "What?"

"The part where you go out and buy them."

"I couldn't just pay for the vase?" Duncan offered mournfully.

"No."

"I still don't see why I have to be the errand boy." Duncan grumbled. "You know Richie's size as well as I do."

Connor didn't reply.

"You already chose him some clothes, didn't you?" Duncan guessed.

"The boy couldn't abide them," Connor huffed. "He said they were ..geeky."

***

Connor came into the living room and looked around. Everything was in its place. Which meant something was definitely missing.

"Joseph, where's Richie?"

Joe looked up from typing on his computer.

"I thought he was with you."

For a moment Connor debated the possibility that the boy was pursuing some relatively harmless pursuit, like playing with the swords, rather than the one thing that had been strictly forbidden to him.

And then he remembered who he was dealing with.

"Richard, Ryan Macleod, I swear you live to test the patience of your elders." He muttered, as he headed towards the front door.

Sure enough, the boy was playing with his basketball in the alleyway, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

At least, not until he spotted Connor glowering at him.

"Um, You wanna play?" he offered. His usual glib tongue deserting him when he saw the fierce look on his Uncle's face.

"I thought you Father made it very clear that you were not allowed out here by yourself." Connor scolded.

Richie bristled at the sheer unfairness of that.

"He said it was dangerous, he never said I couldn't do it."

Connor opened his mouth to make a sharp retort, only to realise that the lad was probably speaking no more than the truth. And if he had grown up in a neighbourhood where going to school or the drugstore was a peril in itself, then who could blame him if he was a little cavalier with his personal safety.

"Alright then," Connor put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Just so we are clear on this. You are not to go out that front door unless you have an adult with you, alright?"

"Geez, you guys are acting like I don't know how to cross the street by myself. I'm not a baby," Richie protested. "I know my way around."

"Not in New York, you don't," Connor started to propel him back inside. "There are bad people about."

"I ain't exactly a boy scout, in case you hadn't noticed," Richie pointed out. "The first time I was arrested, I was ten."

"And you think that's something to be proud of, do you?" Connor raised a brow.

"Tis where I come from." Richie boasted.

"Really?" Connor made his way back into the lounge room.  "Personally, I would have been more impressed if you hadn't been caught."

Richie's jaw dropped.

Connor took advantage of the lad's, no doubt temporary, speechless, to drive his point home.

"You have to stay inside, where either I or Joe can see you."

Richie nodded earnestly. "I'll just go sit right over here on the sofa and read my book."

To show his good intentions he went over to the sofa and sat down, holding the book out in front of him.

"See?" he grinned.

And in that moment he truly meant it.

***

"Whatcha doin' Joe?" Richie lolled against the table.

"Um ..er .." Joe quickly closed down the screen displaying the Watcher information. "I'm just checking on my e-mail."

"What's an email?" Richie stumbled over the word.

Joe frantically tried to think how widespread public access to e-mail accounts was by the mid 1980's.

"It's a spy thing ain't it?" Richie bounced on his toes. "Is that why there was a picture of a sword?"

Oh lord. Joe had really hoped that Richie hadn't seen that.

"My Dad has a sword." Richie confided.

"Did he show you that?" Joe was surprised.

"Naw, I saw it in his coat."

Time to change the subject, Joe decided.

Too late.

"Why does my Dad have a sword?"

Joe swallowed hard. Mac would have his guts if he let anything slip.

"I think you should ask him."

"I would," Richie nodded. "But he ain't here. You know, dontcha?"

"Well, its kind of a Game," Joe figured that was safe enough. "Your Dad and Adam and Uncle Connor  .. are like the good guys .."

"What about you?" Richie cut in. "Aren't you a good guy?"

"Well, yeah," Joe was beginning to see why Duncan had decided to just cut to the chase and had simply told Richie about Immortals when he had first broken into the Store. The kid never ran out of questions. "But .. I'm in a different kind of organisation .."

"Are you in the Mob, or something?"

"No, I'm not in the Mob." Joe shook his head. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Its only 8.30." Richie laughed. "Sides, I don't have a bedtime. I just stay up until I get tired."

Joe frowned, that was no way to look after a child. Unless, of course.

"That's a lie, isn't it?"

***

Connor didn't know what scared him the most. The immediate and unmistakable hum of an Immortal ringing his doorbell. Or the fact that the boy was no-where to be seen.

Neither boded at all well for young Risteard. Connor Macleod of the Clan Macleod, did not like being scared.

"Amanda." He greeted his visitor and didn't know whether to feel better or worse.

"Hello Connor," she offered up her cheek to for a kiss.

"Methos went to pick you up from the airport."

"Oh, I got an earlier flight." Amanda swept in.

"And you didn't think to call?"

"I thought about it. Aren't you going to offer a lady a drink?" Amanda pouted. "Oh and leave the door, Richard is bringing the rest of my bags."

"Is he indeed?"

"He's cute when he's twelve. Although, I really think you should be more careful, letting him out on his own like that. Duncan's usually more cautious."

"Duncan isn't here right now." Connor said tightly.

"I think this is everything," Richie dropped Amanda's four bags onto the hardwood floor.

"Thank you Richard," Amanda purred. "Such muscles. Have you been working out?"

"Nice try lady," Richie held his hand. "You promised me a fifty."

"A fifty?" Amanda was shocked. "It was a twenty and not a cent more."

"So pay up then." Richie gave her a cheeky grin. "I got witnesses now."

"What you've got young man, is trouble," Connor cut in. "Didn't you hear me tell you not to go outside?"

"You said I wasn't to go out the front door." Richie said, looking far too smug for Connor's liking.

"And?" he growled.

"An' I went out the window." Richie grinned at his own cleverness.

"You don't go on your own, at all my lad. Under any circumstances. Do I make myself clear?"

"Geez, yeah. You don't gotta get so uptight about it."

"Oh, I think I do," Connor turned him around and gave him a swat on the rear, hard enough to show he meant business. "Now, go and sit on the couch, and read your book. And, don't move, until I say so."

Richie gave him a mutinous glare, but walked slowly over to the couch, throwing a sulky look over his shoulder at Connor as one hand rubbed his smarting backside. He sat down carefully and tucked his legs under him, picking up his discarded book, all the while glaring resentfully at the older Immortal.

"Good lad." Connor said mildly.

***

"Do you think that was such a good idea?" Amanda asked.

"You'd rather I'd told our "twelve" year old he was Immortal, and he mustn't go out to play in case someone cuts off his head, I suppose?" Connor scoffed.

"Of course not, but .."

"Amanda," Joe came in, his smile of welcome turning to a frown as he saw Richie on the couch. "I thought I sent him to bed?"

"You sent him to bed?" Amanda looked in disbelief at the clock. It was still early.

"He was asking all these questions that I couldn't answer .." Joe confessed. "So, when he lied to me, I just thought, what the heck. He went didn't he?"

"Oh he went alright," Connor agreed. "Then he went someplace else."

"Oh no," Joe groaned, as realisation dawned. "He went outside again didn't he? Is he OK? Was he hurt?"

"Only his pride." Connor dismissed that.

"Oh, I think you're going to find you made quite the impression," Amanda corrected.

"So, he's a mite sulky right now. He'll get over it soon enough." Connor shrugged.

"He's twelve now," Amanda reminded him. "What are you going to do when he gets over that?"

Joe paled. "Um. You don't actually think there's a chance that he's going to remember any of this, do you?"

"I honestly have no idea," Amanda admitted. "But I wouldn't want to be in either of your shoes if he does."