Wow, thanks for all the reviews. So very glad you like it. One more chapter after this.

***

Duncan was out of bed and halfway up the stairs before he even realised what had woken him.

Richie's scream.

Methos met him on the landing, hastily pulling a sweat shirt over his head against the night chill.

"Amanda's with him," he explained quickly. "He's .. a little disorientated right now."

"Took a swing at you, did he?" Duncan surmised.

"No," Methos scowled. "He bit me."

"Ah," Duncan's face twisted sympathetically. "After a time or two, I realised that Tessa had the surer touch, for bringing him out of a really bad nightmare."

"And you couldn't have told me that before?" Methos grumbled.

"I had to work it out for myself," Duncan shrugged. "I didn't want to spoil the surprise."

"He was dreaming about the fire."

"I thought as much," Duncan sighed. "Looks like it couldn't wait until morning, after all."

"Apparently not," Methos agreed. "Are you planning on using that?"

Duncan looked down in surprise at the Katana in his right hand. "Force of habit." he muttered, laying the sword down

At the buzz of an Immortal, they both turned to see Connor approaching, tying the belt on his black silk robe, with Joe following anxiously on his heels. "I take it the lad had another nightmare?"

"Aye." Duncan agreed.

"Then why are we standing out here?" Joe wondered.

"We were waiting for Connor to go in and wake him," Methos smirked.

"Humpf," Connor snorted. "I'm going back to bed. The lad's not a sideshow. He'll not welcome an audience."

"I'm sure you guys can handle this." Joe agreed.

Left alone outside Richie's door, Methos and Duncan looked at each other.

"Want to draw straws?" Duncan asked.

"For who goes back to bed?" Methos suggested.

"For who talks to Richie." Duncan rolled his eyes.

"I don't think he's going to be up to doing a Kata, right now," Methos scoffed. "I'm his Teacher, not his nursemaid."

"This from the person who was reading him the Jungle Book, the other night." Duncan grinned. "With voices."

"That is a great work of literature," Methos said loftily. "You can't possibly read it without voices."

***

Duncan collected what he needed and without knocking pushed the door fully open. Amanda was sitting on the bed, talking softly, Richie sat up against the headboard, with the covers splayed around him in disarray. They both looked up as Duncan entered.

"Did you lose the draw?" Richie enquired, with a soft smile.

"You heard that, huh?" Duncan wasn't fazed. "Naw, Methos went off to find the straws .."

"And never came back?" Amanda suggested mischievously.

"Noo," Duncan rolled his eyes at her. "I skipped the line and ducked in here when he wasn't looking."

"Well," Amanda leaned over and kissed Richie's cheek. "I'll leave you boys to talk."

Duncan waited until she had brushed past him before settling his gaze on Richie. "Well, looks like you're stuck with me."

"Who's your friend?" Richie raised a brow at the bottle of whiskey in Duncan's right hand.

"A very old, and dear, friend," Duncan eyed the bottle lovingly, before pouring a generous measure into one of the two glasses in his left hand and offering it to Richie.

"Uh. I dunno," Richie demurred. "My stomach's kinda queasy, you old friend might just make a return visit. You know?"

"Take small sips," Duncan instructed quietly. "It'll help."

Richie obediently sipped, and coughed appreciatively. "Wow"

"Good, isn't it?" Duncan smiled, as he savoured his own glass.

"You couldn't have given me some of this before?"

"You were twelve."

"No, I wasn't. I just thought I was," Richie pointed out. "Methos gave me a beer."

"Figures." Duncan chuckled. He shot a sideways glance at Richie. "You know, I burnt to death once .." Duncan said softly. "Not one of my favourite memories but .."

Richie bit his lip. "I didn't burnt to death. At least, not really. The explosion was pretty close. It knocked me flying. I don't remember anything after that till I woke up again."

"You think you hit your head?"

"Maybe," Richie didn't much care. Dead was dead. "So, anyway, when I woke up, I figured I'd better grab the little boy and make tracks before anything else could go wrong. So I did."

"Girl." Duncan said quietly.

"Huh?"

"It was a little girl."

"Yeah. That's what I said." Richie frowned at him.

***

"Maac," Richie slurred. They were more than half way down the bottle of Scotch and the lack of decent food and rest in recent weeks, not to mention the repeated resurrections, were beginning to take their toll on the lad. "What are you doing with that?"

"I'm putting it on the bed," Duncan fussed with the comforter, making sure it was arranged just right. He was still pretty sober.

"You're putting it all on the wrong side of the bed." Richie complained.

"I'm putting it on my side of the bed," Duncan corrected. "Because you always hog the covers."

"Do not." Richie scooted down further under the bedclothes, drawing then close around him with a tug.

"Course you don't." Duncan muttered fondly, pulling back the covers and slipping in beside the lad.

Richie blinked fuzzily at him.

"You're in my bed." He observed.

"That I am." Duncan agreed.

"Oh," Richie considered that. "OK."

Duncan bit back a grin at the easy acceptance. Usually he had to fight his corner to get Richie to accept anything that might remotely be construed as cosseting.

"Did you know that the only part of your body that survives being cremated is these little bones in your ears?" Richie surprised him.

"How do you know that?"

"One of the other kids told me. At the Hospital."

"One of the other kids?" Duncan was confused.

"Yeah. I think, they were just trying to scare me though. That's not true, right?"

"Well. Actually." Duncan made a face.

"Oh," Richie said woodenly. "Still, At least this time I knew I couldn't die."

Duncan went very still.

"This time?"

***
"I was twelve," Richie recalled, taking strengthen from Duncan's comforting hand rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't even remember what it was that I did wrong. But he took me by the arm and he marched me to my room and told me I couldn't come out until I learnt to be good."

"And you just stayed put?" Duncan asked sceptically. The Richie Ryan he knew was too slick an escape artist to stay confined for long.

"I had to. The first time I ran away he'd put a bolt on the outside of the door. The windows had been painted over so many times you couldn't have shifted them with a crow bar. Even if I had broken them, we were on the fifth floor and the fire escape was pretty much coming away from the walls there was so much subsidence in the building."

"How long did he leave you there?"

"Long enough for me to get hungry." Richie gave him a quick grin.

"So, at least twenty minutes." Duncan teased, playing along.

"And to hate that damn wallpaper." Richie said more bitterly.

"The one with the swirls?"

"Yeah," Richie sighed. "And then I needed to go the bathroom, real bad. So I banged on the door and hollered. But he just yelled that I should shut up, or else. He sounded pretty drunk."

"What happened?" Duncan kept his tone level. No sense in taking his anger out on the lad.

"They said .." Richie swallowed. "He was smoking. That he must have passed out or something. They said he didn't suffer. That the smoke killed him."

Duncan tried to feel something for the man. But he was far more concerned about Richie.

"How long before you realised there was a fire?"

"I wasn't sure at first. He was always burning pizzas and stuff. . Then it started to get really hot. I stuffed some clothes and things at the bottom of the door, I'd seen that in a movie once, and I tried to get out of the window,  .. I banged and yelled and cried .. but I couldn't make anyone hear me."

Duncan slipped his arm around him. He couldn't imagine how frightening that must have been for a child.

"So, what did you do?"

"I used my chair to break down the door. I figure the heat had buckled it or something because when I tried to get out through the apartment,  the fire was pretty bad by then and all the furniture and stuff were burning, and the smoke was so thick. And then I couldn't do it anymore and I knew I was gonna die."

"Oh Rich .." Duncan sympathised.

"I guess I passed out, because when I woke up .. I was in the Hospital. The Fire crews broke down the door or something. I mean, my life wasn't so great and I knew I'd be with my Mom .. with Emily .. but I wished .. I really wished I'd had the chance to meet my Dad ..." Richie managed a brief smile. "But I was scared. Really scared, you know?"  He rubbed tiredly at his face. "I guess that's why I still have these crappy nightmares."

"Maybe they'll stop now."

"You think?" Richie didn't sound too sure.

"Talking about things is always the first step," Duncan reminded him. "And in saving that little girl you've done a lot to lay your own demons to rest. You faced your fear and you survived."

"Well, duh. Hands up everyone who is Immortal."

Duncan shook his head. "Rich, you know as well as anyone, survival isn't just about staying alive, its about hope and joy and faith and love and all those qualities we have to keep unless we are going to feel dead inside. No matter how bad things have been you've always had that."

"I guess," Richie brightened. "Afterwards, my throat was so sore all I could eat for the next week was ice-cream."

"No wonder you almost died." Duncan scoffed lightly.

"Funny Mac." Richie yawned so widely he almost dislocated his jaw.

"Go to sleep Rich," Duncan ordered fondly. "I'll keep watch."

"Kay," Richie settled more comfortably on Duncan's shoulder. "Gotta get my rest. I have big plans for tomorrow."

"Oh?" Duncan shifted him slightly so he could lay down more fully in the bed.

"Told you earlier," Richie said drowsily. "I'm gonna kill Connor."

"You can try," Duncan chuckled. "It took me almost a century to best him and that was close on 300 years ago. And," he bent his head to whisper conspiratorially in Richie's ear. "I hear he's been practising."

"Not gonna help." Richie murmured.

"Richie," Duncan asked warily. "What are you thinking?"