Duncan got Richie seatbelted in and had just sat down himself when the
engines started up. Richie, who had calmed down for a minute, started up
again; this time fighting so hard Duncan was pretty sure he heard the boy's
arm break somewhere.
"Conner, he's hurting himself!" he called through the open cockpit door.
"Just keep him quiet until I get this thing off the ground!"
"It's okay, Rich," Duncan said soothingly putting his arm around Richie's shoulders. "You can calm down; no one's going to hurt you." He hugged him awkwardly as they taxied. "You're safe now. And if you keep quiet we can untie you." To his mild surprise, Richie did indeed calm down and rested in Duncan's arms. Until they started their take off. Then he started screaming and struggling again.
Duncan reached up and took off Richie's blindfold. He blinked a few times to get used to the sudden light.
"You're okay. See? We're going home," Duncan told him.
Richie's eyes wildly scanned his surroundings. Where was he? What was he doing here? Master was going to be furious when he found out he had left the Manor. Not only had he gone outside, but he was leaving. His eyes rested on Duncan who was watching him closely.
"Are you okay?" Duncan asked him. Richie didn't answer. "I can't stand looking at this thing," he mumbled removing the ball gag.
"Take me back," Richie whispered.
"What?"
"Take me back, please," he said a little louder.
"I'm taking you home."
"Take me back."
"You're going to be okay."
"Take me back," he demanded loudly.
"Richie, keep your voice down."
"Take me back!"
"Duncan!" Conner called from the cockpit. "Keep him quiet! I haven't flown a plane in a long time."
"Richie, I know you're scared."
"TAKE ME BACK!"
"But you need to stay quiet."
"I WANT MAMMA!"
"Duncan!"
"Richie, please."
"I WANT MY MASTER!"
"Will you shut him up?!"
"Richie, don't make me do this," Duncan pleaded pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket. "Just be quiet."
"I WA-MMMM!" Duncan clamped his hand over Richie's mouth.
"One more chance. Will you keep your voice down?" Richie screamed into his hand. "Richie.." He kept yelling and started to struggle again.
"Duncan, just do it!"
"I can't!"
"Oh for cryin' out. you come and take the wheel, I'll take care of the child."
Duncan took his hand from Richie's mouth. "Don't you dare hurt him," he said going into the cockpit.
"I won't." Conner promised over Richie's demands to go home. He went into the back of the plane and stood over the yelling boy. He took out his own handkerchief and quickly gagged the boy with both and blindfolded him again.
"What did you do?" Duncan asked.
"Nothing. Just shut him up. I always thought there was nothing worse than being stuck on a plane with a screaming baby behind you."
"And?" Duncan asked, not sure where this was going.
"I was wrong."
. . . . . .
Every time the phone rang, Tessa jumped to answer it. After enough let downs, she calmed down. But when the phone rang in the middle of the night, she jumped to answer.
"Hello?"
"Tessa, we found him."
She broke down in tears. "Is he okay?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"What does that mean?"
"Look, can you just open the door to your workshop? We need to park in there."
"What's going on?"
"We're just down the street. Just open the doors."
She didn't even stop to put on her robe. She ran down the stairs and opened the big gate like doors to her workshop. A few seconds later, Conner drove his SUV in. He got out and helped her close the doors again.
"What's wrong with him?" Tessa demanded.
"He's a little out of it."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't expect your happy reunion yet."
"Conner, can you help me?" Duncan grunted trying to pull Richie out of the back seat. They had taken off the blindfold again and had kept the replacements for the ball gag. They wrestled him into a pair of sweat pants, but he was fighting so hard they didn't want to try to get him out of the jacket. "You get the right; I'll get the left." They both reached in and grabbed an ankle. Tessa couldn't see what was going on through the dark tinted glass. She could see as Duncan and Conner grabbed a hold of something and as they started pulling, heard muffled screams that came from the car.
"What are you doing.?" Tessa's demand faded away as she caught site of the struggling boy. "You're frightening him!" She pushed the men away. "No wonder he's being so difficult. You have him all tied up." She stepped closer and Richie scooted his way to the other side of the bench seat. "It's okay, Richie, I'm not going to hurt you." She got in next to him. She reached for the gag and he pulled away. "I just want to take it off, now sit still." He let her untie the handkerchief. "Are you okay?"
"I wanna go home," he whispered.
"You are home," she told him gently.
"No. My place is with my master," he insisted. "They stole me."
Tessa paused, "I know you're scared and confused. I am, too."
"Did they take you from your master?"
"No. I understand what it's like to be in a new place."
"I don't wanna be in a new place; I wanna go home. Make them take me home."
"Well, you can't go home today; it's night time. You should be in bed," She told him casting Duncan and Conner a slightly confused glance. 'Long story,' Duncan mouthed to her.
"Do I have to stay?"
"Yes. You'll understand why soon. Now, I know you don't want to sleep in this car all tied up. Will you let them help you out and we can untie you and I'll take you to your room."
Richie looked away, not in defiance, but to think. "Okay," he finally answered. "But I want to go home tomorrow."
"We'll see." She got out. "Be gentle, let me do the talking." She turned to the frightened boy in the car. "You have to come closer, we can't reach."
"We can just go."
"We can't reach him," she repeated firmly over Duncan's suggestion. "Come on, Richie; come closer so we can help you out." Richie struggled over towards them. Tessa reached in and gently helped him out. "Duncan and Conner will get you out of this."
"Okay, stand still," Duncan said gently as he and Conner set to work on the buckles and straps. Finally he was free. Once out of the jacket, he stepped away from the men and closer to Tessa.
"Do you want something to eat?" she offered. "Drink maybe?"
"I want to go home. Master will be looking for me."
"I already told you it's too late to travel. If you aren't hungry or thirsty, it's time for bed. Are you tired?" He nodded slowly. "Then I will show you to your room." She took him back to his old room, reverently wishing they had never gotten rid of all his things. She settled him into bed and quietly closed the door. As soon as she was in the hall, her resolve left her and she broke down in strong sobs.
"Tess." Duncan opened his arms and she hugged him for dear life.
"What happened to him?" she sobbed. "Why is he scared of us?"
"Because he's confused. We'll fix it. He'll be back to his old self. It's going to take some time. But I won't give up on him."
"What happened?"
"He was brainwashed," Conner told her. "Forced into slavery. He has no idea who he is, much less who we are."
"Oh, Duncan." She turned to the comfort of her lover's arms.
"Tess, we'll help him."
"What did they do to him?" she asked suddenly.
"They brainwashed."
"No. What did they make him do?"
"Tessa," Conner spoke up. "It's nothing to be said in mixed company."
"Don't tiptoe around me because I'm a woman, Conner MacLeod!" she yelled. "I have a right to know! I care about him just as much as anyone else! I want to know what he went through!"
Duncan took a deep breath. "Imagine the worst," he told her. "That's what happened."
"They beat him?" she asked. He nodded. "Did they rape him?"
"That's all he was there for," Conner admitted. "He even put the moves on Duncan," he added, trying to lighten the mood. Instead of laughing, Tessa let out a loud sob.
"I'm sorry, Tess," Duncan said taking her in his arms again. "We got him out of there as soon as we could."
"He was just a baby!"
"Don't call him that," Duncan told her.
"Why not? He was!"
"That's what that man called him. He was sick, twisted and mentally ill. It was all I could do not to take his head right there."
"Why didn't you?" Tessa almost accused.
"Because it wouldn't have helped. We know where the island is now; we can go back and take care of it."
"Why don't you call to police, FBI, CIA."
"Because half of the slaves are immortal. When they get freed, they need someone to teach them and look after them."
"How many were there?" she asked softly. She had never thought about other slaves.
"Over one hundred, easily."
"Duncan, those messages we got from. from, from the families who lost children who never came home. How many of families lost their children to that man?"
"We'll never know."
. . . . . .
The next morning, Richie was awake, undressed and kneeling by the door when Duncan came out to make some coffee.
"Morning, Richie."
Richie watched him with anxious eyes as he moved around the kitchen and even dared to follow him down the hall and stand outside their bedroom as Duncan and Tessa got dressed.
"Good morning, Richie," Tessa greeted him when she ran into him in the hall. "Did you sleep well?" He nodded slightly. "Are you ready for breakfast?" she asked, careful not to look down.
He followed her into the kitchen and knelt by the door as she prepared the oatmeal. As she was dishing it out into bowls, she looked over at him. "If you want to eat, you have to get dressed," she told him. "At least put your pants back on."
"Master says that children should not be shy about their bodies," Richie answered, jutting out his chin defiantly.
"You are not a child. You need to be dressed."
"I am a child," he insisted. "I'm Master's baby boy. Ask him." He pointed to Duncan who had just walked into the kitchen. "He knows."
"Duncan, Richie needs to be dressed, don't you agree?"
"I do. Come with me, Richie. We'll get you dressed."
"Master says."
"Richie, you don't have to worry about what he says. You're not going back," Duncan told him sternly. "You're home now."
"A child's place is with his master," Richie told him.
"You're not a child and you're not going back. You're staying here."
"Master will come for me and he'll kill you!" Richie threatened.
"But you don't want to go back there."
"I'm loyal to my master."
"You are. But you don't have to be anymore. You're going to stay here."
"I don't want to stay here! I want to go home!"
"You're staying here, Richie. You used to live here and you're going to live here again," Duncan told him as gently as he could. "You liked it here."
"I don't remember it here."
"You will. You just have to give it time," Tessa told him. "Just give us a chance."
Richie looked away from her pleading eyes and focused on the floor. "I don't feel good," he mumbled after a minute.
"Then maybe you should go back to bed." Duncan offered him a hand up, which Richie refused.
"No miraculous recovery?" Conner asked, looking back at Duncan and Richie who he had passed on his way from the guestroom to the kitchen.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I think you are expecting too much from the boy, that's all."
"If you're so against this why did you help bring him home?"
"Because I'd rather see that boy dead than living for centuries as a slave."
Tessa stalked to where Conner stood and glared at him hard. "If you lay one hand on that boy, I will take your head myself," she threatened.
. . . . . .
The next day, Richie flat out refused to leave his bed, much less the room. He just laid there under the covers, staring at the wall, just shaking his head whenever anyone spoke to him. The news he was not returning to his master's house seemed to have sent him into a depression.
"Are you hungry, Richie?" Tessa asked him late afternoon. He hadn't eaten for almost two days. He shook his head. "You must be hungry. I can make you some macaroni and cheese, I know it's your favorite," she offered. He shifted to look at her. "Ah ha! You are hungry. I knew you would be. You were always hungry."
"Do I have to go out there to eat it?" he asked quietly.
She smiled at him. "No. You can eat here. But can I sit with you?" He looked away and shrugged. "I'll take that as a yes unless you tell me no." He shrugged again. "Alright. I'll make you some supper and bring it in here."
Half an hour later, she came in carrying a tray with a large bowl of the pasta and a tall glass of milk. She waited from him to sit up and put the tray on his lap. "Be careful it's hot," she warned.
Richie regarded her very seriously before folding his hands and bowing his head. "Holy Master," he started. "Thank you for the food. Bless my master, bless my brothers, bless my sisters, bless Mamma, and help me to be a good boy," he recited. "And help me to go home," he added. "Amen." He looked up at her. She took a deep breath and looked back.
"Go ahead. Eat."
"Aren't you going to feed it to me?" he asked expectantly.
She paused. She really wanted to cave in a do it for him. All he had to do was ask and she'd do anything for him. "You aren't a baby, you can do it yourself," she finally told him.
"Mamma always fed me."
"I'm not Mamma; I'm Tessa." He stared at her for a few seconds. "It's getting cold." He looked at her for a bit more and just when she was expecting him to refuse to eat, he picked up the spoon. She sat next to him and talked about little pointless things as he ate. She was just happy to see him and hear him mumble a few words every now and then. When he was done, he looked from her to the tray as if he were not quite sure what to do with it. "Do you want more?" she asked picking up the tray.
"No, ma'am."
"You can call me Tessa. You've always called me Tessa."
Richie sat up a little straighter. "I've never met you before," he told her matter of factly.
Tears threatened Tessa's eyes. "I have work to do." She turned and left.
. . . . . .
"I'm not going to do that, Conner," Duncan insisted.
"He may be too far gone."
"That's no reason to kill him. It's not even been a week. He has to get used to us, then we can work on figuring this out."
"Is that what that Burns fellow told you?"
"Sean Burns is a good and trusted friend. He's been practicing psychology for hundreds of years. Just because you think this is a waste of time, doesn't mean it is."
"No need to get testy. I just want to make sure you don't waste your whole life looking for a boy that isn't coming back," Conner said gently.
"His body is here. That's the first step. All we have to do is keep reminding him of his past."
"And what if it doesn't work?"
"Then Sean will come early."
"Early? So he's already coming?"
"If...when, WHEN Richie remembers, he'll probably need someone to talk to and work things out with, someone he's not close to. That's when Sean was planning on coming. And by that time, if he hasn't snapped out of it, Sean can hypnotize him."
"And if none of this works?"
"It will. I didn't get this far just to lose him again," Duncan grimly stated, giving no room for Conner to argue.
"Conner, he's hurting himself!" he called through the open cockpit door.
"Just keep him quiet until I get this thing off the ground!"
"It's okay, Rich," Duncan said soothingly putting his arm around Richie's shoulders. "You can calm down; no one's going to hurt you." He hugged him awkwardly as they taxied. "You're safe now. And if you keep quiet we can untie you." To his mild surprise, Richie did indeed calm down and rested in Duncan's arms. Until they started their take off. Then he started screaming and struggling again.
Duncan reached up and took off Richie's blindfold. He blinked a few times to get used to the sudden light.
"You're okay. See? We're going home," Duncan told him.
Richie's eyes wildly scanned his surroundings. Where was he? What was he doing here? Master was going to be furious when he found out he had left the Manor. Not only had he gone outside, but he was leaving. His eyes rested on Duncan who was watching him closely.
"Are you okay?" Duncan asked him. Richie didn't answer. "I can't stand looking at this thing," he mumbled removing the ball gag.
"Take me back," Richie whispered.
"What?"
"Take me back, please," he said a little louder.
"I'm taking you home."
"Take me back."
"You're going to be okay."
"Take me back," he demanded loudly.
"Richie, keep your voice down."
"Take me back!"
"Duncan!" Conner called from the cockpit. "Keep him quiet! I haven't flown a plane in a long time."
"Richie, I know you're scared."
"TAKE ME BACK!"
"But you need to stay quiet."
"I WANT MAMMA!"
"Duncan!"
"Richie, please."
"I WANT MY MASTER!"
"Will you shut him up?!"
"Richie, don't make me do this," Duncan pleaded pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket. "Just be quiet."
"I WA-MMMM!" Duncan clamped his hand over Richie's mouth.
"One more chance. Will you keep your voice down?" Richie screamed into his hand. "Richie.." He kept yelling and started to struggle again.
"Duncan, just do it!"
"I can't!"
"Oh for cryin' out. you come and take the wheel, I'll take care of the child."
Duncan took his hand from Richie's mouth. "Don't you dare hurt him," he said going into the cockpit.
"I won't." Conner promised over Richie's demands to go home. He went into the back of the plane and stood over the yelling boy. He took out his own handkerchief and quickly gagged the boy with both and blindfolded him again.
"What did you do?" Duncan asked.
"Nothing. Just shut him up. I always thought there was nothing worse than being stuck on a plane with a screaming baby behind you."
"And?" Duncan asked, not sure where this was going.
"I was wrong."
. . . . . .
Every time the phone rang, Tessa jumped to answer it. After enough let downs, she calmed down. But when the phone rang in the middle of the night, she jumped to answer.
"Hello?"
"Tessa, we found him."
She broke down in tears. "Is he okay?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"What does that mean?"
"Look, can you just open the door to your workshop? We need to park in there."
"What's going on?"
"We're just down the street. Just open the doors."
She didn't even stop to put on her robe. She ran down the stairs and opened the big gate like doors to her workshop. A few seconds later, Conner drove his SUV in. He got out and helped her close the doors again.
"What's wrong with him?" Tessa demanded.
"He's a little out of it."
"What do you mean?"
"Don't expect your happy reunion yet."
"Conner, can you help me?" Duncan grunted trying to pull Richie out of the back seat. They had taken off the blindfold again and had kept the replacements for the ball gag. They wrestled him into a pair of sweat pants, but he was fighting so hard they didn't want to try to get him out of the jacket. "You get the right; I'll get the left." They both reached in and grabbed an ankle. Tessa couldn't see what was going on through the dark tinted glass. She could see as Duncan and Conner grabbed a hold of something and as they started pulling, heard muffled screams that came from the car.
"What are you doing.?" Tessa's demand faded away as she caught site of the struggling boy. "You're frightening him!" She pushed the men away. "No wonder he's being so difficult. You have him all tied up." She stepped closer and Richie scooted his way to the other side of the bench seat. "It's okay, Richie, I'm not going to hurt you." She got in next to him. She reached for the gag and he pulled away. "I just want to take it off, now sit still." He let her untie the handkerchief. "Are you okay?"
"I wanna go home," he whispered.
"You are home," she told him gently.
"No. My place is with my master," he insisted. "They stole me."
Tessa paused, "I know you're scared and confused. I am, too."
"Did they take you from your master?"
"No. I understand what it's like to be in a new place."
"I don't wanna be in a new place; I wanna go home. Make them take me home."
"Well, you can't go home today; it's night time. You should be in bed," She told him casting Duncan and Conner a slightly confused glance. 'Long story,' Duncan mouthed to her.
"Do I have to stay?"
"Yes. You'll understand why soon. Now, I know you don't want to sleep in this car all tied up. Will you let them help you out and we can untie you and I'll take you to your room."
Richie looked away, not in defiance, but to think. "Okay," he finally answered. "But I want to go home tomorrow."
"We'll see." She got out. "Be gentle, let me do the talking." She turned to the frightened boy in the car. "You have to come closer, we can't reach."
"We can just go."
"We can't reach him," she repeated firmly over Duncan's suggestion. "Come on, Richie; come closer so we can help you out." Richie struggled over towards them. Tessa reached in and gently helped him out. "Duncan and Conner will get you out of this."
"Okay, stand still," Duncan said gently as he and Conner set to work on the buckles and straps. Finally he was free. Once out of the jacket, he stepped away from the men and closer to Tessa.
"Do you want something to eat?" she offered. "Drink maybe?"
"I want to go home. Master will be looking for me."
"I already told you it's too late to travel. If you aren't hungry or thirsty, it's time for bed. Are you tired?" He nodded slowly. "Then I will show you to your room." She took him back to his old room, reverently wishing they had never gotten rid of all his things. She settled him into bed and quietly closed the door. As soon as she was in the hall, her resolve left her and she broke down in strong sobs.
"Tess." Duncan opened his arms and she hugged him for dear life.
"What happened to him?" she sobbed. "Why is he scared of us?"
"Because he's confused. We'll fix it. He'll be back to his old self. It's going to take some time. But I won't give up on him."
"What happened?"
"He was brainwashed," Conner told her. "Forced into slavery. He has no idea who he is, much less who we are."
"Oh, Duncan." She turned to the comfort of her lover's arms.
"Tess, we'll help him."
"What did they do to him?" she asked suddenly.
"They brainwashed."
"No. What did they make him do?"
"Tessa," Conner spoke up. "It's nothing to be said in mixed company."
"Don't tiptoe around me because I'm a woman, Conner MacLeod!" she yelled. "I have a right to know! I care about him just as much as anyone else! I want to know what he went through!"
Duncan took a deep breath. "Imagine the worst," he told her. "That's what happened."
"They beat him?" she asked. He nodded. "Did they rape him?"
"That's all he was there for," Conner admitted. "He even put the moves on Duncan," he added, trying to lighten the mood. Instead of laughing, Tessa let out a loud sob.
"I'm sorry, Tess," Duncan said taking her in his arms again. "We got him out of there as soon as we could."
"He was just a baby!"
"Don't call him that," Duncan told her.
"Why not? He was!"
"That's what that man called him. He was sick, twisted and mentally ill. It was all I could do not to take his head right there."
"Why didn't you?" Tessa almost accused.
"Because it wouldn't have helped. We know where the island is now; we can go back and take care of it."
"Why don't you call to police, FBI, CIA."
"Because half of the slaves are immortal. When they get freed, they need someone to teach them and look after them."
"How many were there?" she asked softly. She had never thought about other slaves.
"Over one hundred, easily."
"Duncan, those messages we got from. from, from the families who lost children who never came home. How many of families lost their children to that man?"
"We'll never know."
. . . . . .
The next morning, Richie was awake, undressed and kneeling by the door when Duncan came out to make some coffee.
"Morning, Richie."
Richie watched him with anxious eyes as he moved around the kitchen and even dared to follow him down the hall and stand outside their bedroom as Duncan and Tessa got dressed.
"Good morning, Richie," Tessa greeted him when she ran into him in the hall. "Did you sleep well?" He nodded slightly. "Are you ready for breakfast?" she asked, careful not to look down.
He followed her into the kitchen and knelt by the door as she prepared the oatmeal. As she was dishing it out into bowls, she looked over at him. "If you want to eat, you have to get dressed," she told him. "At least put your pants back on."
"Master says that children should not be shy about their bodies," Richie answered, jutting out his chin defiantly.
"You are not a child. You need to be dressed."
"I am a child," he insisted. "I'm Master's baby boy. Ask him." He pointed to Duncan who had just walked into the kitchen. "He knows."
"Duncan, Richie needs to be dressed, don't you agree?"
"I do. Come with me, Richie. We'll get you dressed."
"Master says."
"Richie, you don't have to worry about what he says. You're not going back," Duncan told him sternly. "You're home now."
"A child's place is with his master," Richie told him.
"You're not a child and you're not going back. You're staying here."
"Master will come for me and he'll kill you!" Richie threatened.
"But you don't want to go back there."
"I'm loyal to my master."
"You are. But you don't have to be anymore. You're going to stay here."
"I don't want to stay here! I want to go home!"
"You're staying here, Richie. You used to live here and you're going to live here again," Duncan told him as gently as he could. "You liked it here."
"I don't remember it here."
"You will. You just have to give it time," Tessa told him. "Just give us a chance."
Richie looked away from her pleading eyes and focused on the floor. "I don't feel good," he mumbled after a minute.
"Then maybe you should go back to bed." Duncan offered him a hand up, which Richie refused.
"No miraculous recovery?" Conner asked, looking back at Duncan and Richie who he had passed on his way from the guestroom to the kitchen.
"What does that mean?"
"It means I think you are expecting too much from the boy, that's all."
"If you're so against this why did you help bring him home?"
"Because I'd rather see that boy dead than living for centuries as a slave."
Tessa stalked to where Conner stood and glared at him hard. "If you lay one hand on that boy, I will take your head myself," she threatened.
. . . . . .
The next day, Richie flat out refused to leave his bed, much less the room. He just laid there under the covers, staring at the wall, just shaking his head whenever anyone spoke to him. The news he was not returning to his master's house seemed to have sent him into a depression.
"Are you hungry, Richie?" Tessa asked him late afternoon. He hadn't eaten for almost two days. He shook his head. "You must be hungry. I can make you some macaroni and cheese, I know it's your favorite," she offered. He shifted to look at her. "Ah ha! You are hungry. I knew you would be. You were always hungry."
"Do I have to go out there to eat it?" he asked quietly.
She smiled at him. "No. You can eat here. But can I sit with you?" He looked away and shrugged. "I'll take that as a yes unless you tell me no." He shrugged again. "Alright. I'll make you some supper and bring it in here."
Half an hour later, she came in carrying a tray with a large bowl of the pasta and a tall glass of milk. She waited from him to sit up and put the tray on his lap. "Be careful it's hot," she warned.
Richie regarded her very seriously before folding his hands and bowing his head. "Holy Master," he started. "Thank you for the food. Bless my master, bless my brothers, bless my sisters, bless Mamma, and help me to be a good boy," he recited. "And help me to go home," he added. "Amen." He looked up at her. She took a deep breath and looked back.
"Go ahead. Eat."
"Aren't you going to feed it to me?" he asked expectantly.
She paused. She really wanted to cave in a do it for him. All he had to do was ask and she'd do anything for him. "You aren't a baby, you can do it yourself," she finally told him.
"Mamma always fed me."
"I'm not Mamma; I'm Tessa." He stared at her for a few seconds. "It's getting cold." He looked at her for a bit more and just when she was expecting him to refuse to eat, he picked up the spoon. She sat next to him and talked about little pointless things as he ate. She was just happy to see him and hear him mumble a few words every now and then. When he was done, he looked from her to the tray as if he were not quite sure what to do with it. "Do you want more?" she asked picking up the tray.
"No, ma'am."
"You can call me Tessa. You've always called me Tessa."
Richie sat up a little straighter. "I've never met you before," he told her matter of factly.
Tears threatened Tessa's eyes. "I have work to do." She turned and left.
. . . . . .
"I'm not going to do that, Conner," Duncan insisted.
"He may be too far gone."
"That's no reason to kill him. It's not even been a week. He has to get used to us, then we can work on figuring this out."
"Is that what that Burns fellow told you?"
"Sean Burns is a good and trusted friend. He's been practicing psychology for hundreds of years. Just because you think this is a waste of time, doesn't mean it is."
"No need to get testy. I just want to make sure you don't waste your whole life looking for a boy that isn't coming back," Conner said gently.
"His body is here. That's the first step. All we have to do is keep reminding him of his past."
"And what if it doesn't work?"
"Then Sean will come early."
"Early? So he's already coming?"
"If...when, WHEN Richie remembers, he'll probably need someone to talk to and work things out with, someone he's not close to. That's when Sean was planning on coming. And by that time, if he hasn't snapped out of it, Sean can hypnotize him."
"And if none of this works?"
"It will. I didn't get this far just to lose him again," Duncan grimly stated, giving no room for Conner to argue.