"Okay, Richie." Duncan stood up and started to collect the dinner dishes. "It's time to go talk with Sean."

Richie looked from Duncan to Sean and back. "Do I have to, sir?" he asked quietly.

"Afraid so. You'll understand why later."

"When I'm bigger?"

"Sooner than that, hopefully." He put his hand on the boy's shoulder. He and Sean had been talking every night for three days. "So will you go talk to him?"

With an antsy glance toward Sean, Richie beckoned Duncan closer so he could whisper. "I don't like him. I can never remember what he does to me."

Duncan looked him in the eye. "I promise he isn't doing anything bad. He's just talking to you."

"I don't like him. Please don't make me go."

"Do you want me to go with you? This is really important."

"Will he be mad?"

"No. I'll just tell him. So you go wait in your room. I'll talk to him."

"Thank you, sir." Richie left to go wait.

"Sean, we need to talk. Can you two finish this?" he asked Tessa and Conner. They nodded their agreement. He and Sean went out into the living room. "Richie's not liking this."

"Is that what he was saying to you?"

"He doesn't like it because he can't remember what happens. You've been doing this for three days, is it working or not?"

"It's working," Sean assured him. "Richie trusts me when I have him sedated. He's battling himself right now. He'll get worse before he gets better."

"He seems to be getting better. He trusts me more."

"I'm afraid that's more of him accepting you as the master of the house."

"What have you gotten out of him?" Duncan asked.

Sean took a deep breath. "Usually I wouldn't speak about a patient to someone else, but these are unusual circumstances. So far all I've accomplished is gaining his trust. Tonight I was going to get into why he's done what he's done."

"You've been doing this for three days and all you've done is introduce yourself?"

"The boy has been hurt, Duncan. He's had no one to trust but himself for years, though he seems to think someone he calls Mamma wasn't so bad."

"Look, he's not comfortable with this, but he seemed okay with the idea of me being there. Will that upset anything?"

"Actually. I think that might help."

They went into Richie's room, where he was kneeling by his bed. They got him undressed and in bed.

"No!" Richie protested when Sean brought out the needle. He curled into Duncan, who had sat next to him on the bed.

"Shh, it's okay, Rich," he assured him.

"Don't let him, please, Master, don't let him!" Richie begged. "It hurts."

Duncan's voice caught in his throat. "It'll be okay, Rich," he finally managed. "Come here." He put his arms around him and Richie did his best to hide himself from Sean and his needle. Sean gave Duncan and slight nod. "Okay, Richie, Sean's going to give you a shot. And it will hurt for just a second." Richie looked up at him. "It will only be a minute, I promise. Are you ready?" Slowly Richie nodded.

After Sean gave him the shot, Richie didn't want to leave the relative safety of Duncan's lap. No amount of coaxing would get him to move. So, Duncan decided that Richie would stay where he was. He held onto the small, frightened boy as he drifted off slowly.

Sean looked at his watch. "We'll give him another minute then get started."

"I forgot he was scared of needles," Duncan said quietly. "You should have seen him when he had to get stitches. It took me and Tessa to calm him down. She held his free hand and I covered his eyes so he couldn't look at it. He was trying really hard not to cry. I'm surprised he didn't pass out."

"Maybe we can find out why he's so scared of needles when we're through." Sean gave him a reassuring smile. "For today, I need you to stay quiet. Maybe in a day or two he'll want to talk to you. But if he doesn't ask, I'm going to keep this between the two of us as much as possible. Are you ready?" Duncan nodded. "Richie. Richie, it's Sean."

"Ugh," Richie groaned. "Wha'd ya wan'?"

"To talk some more."

"Why?"

"Because Duncan MacLeod is worried about you."

"Mac?" Richie whispered.

"Tessa Noel, too."

"Tess?"

"Yes, they're worried about you."

"Why?"

"They don't know where you are. They've found your body, but not you."

"My body?"

"Where are you, Richie?"

"Hiding."

"You're hiding? From what?"

"Them."

"Who?"

"The people."

"Why are you hiding from them?"

"Scared."

"Of them or what they do to you?"

"Yeah."

"What do they do to you?"

"Can't tell."

"Can't tell me?"

"Mac."

"You can't tell Duncan."

"No."

"Why not?"

"He's mad."

"Duncan's mad?"

"Yes."

"Why do you think he's mad?"

"'Cause."

"Richie, he's worried about you. He's not mad."

There was a long pause, as if Richie was thinking about the statement. "No?"

"No, Richie," Duncan cut in.

"Duncan," Sean warned.

Duncan ignored him. "Richie, I'm not mad at you." He hugged him tightly. "I'm worried about you, Tessa, too. You're scaring us."

"Mac?"

"Yeah, Rich, it's me."

"Maa-aac," he groaned softly, rolling in his arms so his face was up against his chest.

"It's okay, Rich. Everything's okay now. You're safe."

"Master."

"No, he's gone Rich, you don't have to worry about him."

"I'm sorry, Master." He weakly pushed against Duncan.

"Rich? Richie? Sean, what's going on?" Duncan looked at his friend.

"You woke him up."

"What? Then what was the shot for?"

"To get him to relax and put his guard down. You got him all worked up, you got his adrenaline going, and you woke him up."

"Now what?"

"Now we leave him alone. I'll try again tomorrow."

. . . . . .

Duncan woke up to the strong feeling that someone was watching him while he slept. He rolled over and found Richie, naked, standing in the doorway.

"Everything okay?" he asked sleepily. Richie nervously bit his lower lip and took a tentative step forward. "Is something wrong, Richie?"

"I had a bad dream, sir," Richie said quietly.

"It was just a dream, you're okay. Go back to sleep."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm scared." Richie walked forward and stopped at the foot of the bed. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"What?" he sputtered.

"Please, sir?"

Sean woke up to a knocking on his door. "Sean, we have a. situation," Duncan said coming in.

"What's wrong?"

"Well. Richie wants to.uh; sleep with Tess and me tonight."

"He asked you?"

"Yeah. He came into our room and said he had a bad dream then asked to sleep with us."

"Has he ever done that before?"

"He's never asked. He did once, though, before the kidnapping. There was a storm and.he did once."

Sean smiled. "Maybe I should have let you talk to him sooner. Let the boy stay with you. Do you remember where he slept?"

"We just woke up and he was at the foot of the bed."

"Let him sleep there tonight. We may have him back sooner than I thought."

Duncan agreed but insisted Richie put some clothes on before they went to bed.

. . . . . .

The next morning when Duncan woke up he was surprised to see that Richie wasn't curled at the foot of the bed like he had been a few hours before. The boy never woke up until you told him to, so him getting up on his own was a big step forward. He found the boy in the kitchen stirring eggs in a skillet.

"Good morning, Richie."

The boy turned around, his face a mix of shame and excitement. "Good morning," he replied carefully.

Duncan noted that he had not addressed him as 'sir', another big step. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I wanted to make you all breakfast."

Duncan smiled. "That's very nice of you."

Richie smiled back, the small traces of shame disappearing from his face. "I have pleased you?"

"I think it is very nice of you to want to make breakfast for everybody," Duncan told him. "I can't wait to taste it."

"I'm not a kitchen child," Richie confessed. "But I know how to make some things. My master.my former master," he corrected. "Used to let me help him make meals when he took me on picnics. Can we do that?" he ventured.

"What cook or picnic?"

"Either or both. I know it's forward of me, but you seem to like that."

"Richie, we don't hide behind titles and roles here. We're friends, not master and slave."

"I'm not a slave!" Richie suddenly yelled.

Duncan took a few seconds to recover from the sudden out burst then, "I know you're not. That's what I just said. We're friends." He put his hand on the boy's shoulder and bent forward a bit so they were eye to eye. "We've been friends a long time. Do you remember yet?"

"Yes," Richie answered softly. Before Duncan could absorb the confession he quickly corrected himself. "No! No! I don't remember! I don't know what you're talking about!" He pulled himself out of Duncan's grip and ran back to his room.

Duncan started to follow him, but was stopped by Sean who was apparently listening in the living room. "I need to talk to him," Duncan said, trying to continue after him.

"Give him a few minutes," Sean told him.

"He just admitted that he remembered me, Sean. I can't let that slip away."

"It won't. Just give him a minute."

"It's finally working. All those talks are finally helping."

"They were always helping. It's just showing more now. Richie may be back sooner than I had hoped."

Duncan looked at him with a child's hope. "You really think so?"

"I do. Did you happen to notice what he was wearing?"

He shrugged. "Flannel pants and a T-shirt." Sean nodded and waited for him to put it together. "Flannel pants and a." a wide grin broke out on Duncan's face. "He dressed himself. He's wearing clothes again!"

"You don't have to force him into overalls anymore," Sean agreed. "That's Richie."

"Then why is he denying that he remembers after he admitted it?"

"I told you that he was battling himself. The best way to describe what is happening with him is that he has two personalities right now, Richie and the slave, but they share one body. A long time ago, Richie gave the slave control of his body. And now Richie wants control again, but the slave won't let him have it. So chances are the two will go back and forth. He will be Richie one minute and the next the slave will be back. The changes in control won't always be as obvious as what just happened. All we can do is treat him as normally as possible. Let him have his way unless it is a submissive behavior. If he wants to be alone, let him. If he asks for a drink, get him one. If he tries to bow, correct him. I will speak with him again tonight after dinner and let him know that we are supporting his attempts of control and we're here for him."

"So just more waiting?"

"More waiting."

. . . . . .

That night at dinner was the first time Richie ventured out of his room. He had oddly enough dressed himself back in the overalls. He took his seat at the table, but kept his head bowed and kept trying to refill drinks and serve people more servings as they finished their food. Sean had explained to everyone what he had explained to Duncan that morning and they all patiently continued their work with the boy.

After the dishes were done, Richie went straight to the living room, sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV. He had not touched any of the electronics since his arrival. Tears swam to Tessa's eyes and Duncan could feel them burning at his own.

"He used to do that every night," she whispered to no one in particular. She and Duncan watched as Richie flipped through the channels, eventually landing on a rerun of his favorite sitcom that had be cancelled years before. With a deep, determined breath, Tessa went out into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. He slid down to sit on the floor at her feet, but did not give up control of the remote.

"It's amazing," Sean commented to Duncan and Conner, who were also watching. "He's making rapid progress. I didn't expect anything like this for at least a few more days, if not a week."

"What do you mean?" Conner asked.

"He's already compromising with himself. He took a submissive seat, but kept the remote control."

"That's progress?"

"That is substantial progress."