Duncan entered the loft through the store entrance. The sign in the window said 'closed' but the door itself was unlocked. Once inside, he found Tessa seated on the stairs that lead from the store to the loft, twirling a tissue through her hands with nervous tension.
"Duncan!"
Tessa's voice was hoarse, either from crying or illness, or both. She swiftly stood and bounded down the stairs two at a time in her excitement, but she misstepped the last few and went sailing ungracefully forward. Only Duncan's immortal reflexes were able to stop the descent. He grabbed her upper arms when they flew forward as her foot slipped off the stair. He held onto her as the rest of her body caught up to her. Tessa didn't weigh much, but her momentum made her too heavy for the grip he had on her. She nearly pulled him over as she sank to the ground, her shins lightly dusting the floor because she wasn't fast enough to land on her feet once Duncan had full support of her upper body. Immediately after her shins lighted down she jerked her feet out, winding up in a rather unflattering squat with Duncan still holding her upper arms, bent over her nearly to the point of falling on top of her. This he compensated for by swiftly dropping to one knee, making him roughly eye level with her.
"Are you all right?" Duncan asked, the concern in his voice tinted by the sudden adrenaline rush. Tessa sat dazed for a moment before suddenly snapping out of it.
"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Duncan—"
"It's all right," he said, helping her to stand. He still held one of her arms, but his other hand wrapped around her shoulders and held her close, protectively.
Tessa pushed away slightly to be able to address him directly. "No, Duncan. When I realized that you'd gone, but hadn't taken my car—"
"I just walked to the body shop to get my car," he said to reassure her that his intentions were completely legitimate and honorable.
"But when I discovered you gone… Duncan, those things I said—"
"It's ok, Tess. I'm not leaving you," he reassured again. "Not again. Not unless you want me to."
"I just thought that, earlier, it looked like you were keeping me at arm's length. You kept secrets from me, even after… You promised." Tessa's voice was a harsh yet soft whisper, choked by illness and tears, and her eyes were bright.
"I know, Tessa. It's just that, with everything that's happened recently, I honestly just forgot to tell you about the boy being at the bridge. I was more concerned with you at the time," Duncan admitted honestly.
"I know," Tessa was still on the verge of tears. "I just thought that, your leaving me out of your dealings with the boy—your not even mentioning him to me, it was like you were trying to keep me out of your life. Out of the immortal part of your life. I felt like Lois Lane. I want all of you, Duncan MacLeod. Not just the mild-mannered antique dealer. I don't want to go back to only being in half your life."
The tears fell as Tessa finished her speech. Duncan pulled her in close and just held her for a time, letting her get it out of her system.
"You listen to me young lady," he said at last, tipping her chin up so she would look him in the eye. "I didn't tell you the whole truth before because I thought that I could stay out of the game. That was a stupid and naïve thought and I was wrong. Now you know the whole truth, about the gathering and other immortals coming for my head. I wanted to protect you from this, but I can't. I'm sorry."
Tessa nodded slightly, regaining some of her composure. She understood why Duncan had decided to leave her; Connor had explained it during the drive to the island. Duncan couldn't protect her from the game, and she would only be a target to be used against him if she stayed with him. It was the risk all immortals took when they chanced to take a mortal lover. She knew that he desperately needed to protect her, and that in his mind, her living and hating him for walking out after twelve years was better than her being dead because of him.
Knowing all this didn't make her like or accept the idea of his leaving, however. She convinced him that now that she knew the truth it should be her choice whether or not she stayed with him. After all, she was an adult and fully aware of the dangers they may face. Slan Quince left no illusions in her mind.
"I love you, Tess," Duncan continued. "And like you said, you know the risks of staying with me, and you're right it should be your choice to make. But I promised you that I would never try to leave you again. I meant it." Duncan felt tears welling up in his own eyes towards the end.
"Oh Duncan," Tessa sobbed as she renewed her embrace, holding him as tightly as her tired muscles were capable of. They held each other there in the store, feeling the reassurance that they each knew the other would die first before walking out of this relationship voluntarily.
"How's the boy?" Tessa asked. She was snuggled into the crook of Duncan's arm, her head resting on his chest.
"Well he's awake," Duncan offered. In truth he wasn't sure how Richie was doing. Physically he was recovering, but otherwise…
"Did you talk to him?"
"We talked," Duncan answered, not-committed.
"And?" Tessa prodded, tilting her head to see his face.
"And I told him what happened that night at the store," he admitted finally.
Tessa sat up and stared down at him gravely. "What exactly did you tell him?" She asked, her tone serious.
"The truth," Duncan answered. Then, before she could interject he added: "That Slan came to the store looking to kill me, and because I'd never met him I confused the two of them, considering he was holding a sword at the time." Duncan laughed slightly in spite of himself. "I told him that Connor is my cousin who found out that Slan was after me and had come to warn me, and we all wound up in the store that night, and boy did he pick the wrong night to break in!" Duncan laughed again, and this time Tessa joined him, but her heart wasn't in it.
"Well technically that is the truth, Duncan," she said. "But what of the rest of it?"
"Ah, that." Duncan hated the lies he had to tell the boy for the interim. "I told him that we were all members of the Society for Creative Anachronism, so that's how we were able to all fight so well with swords."
This time Tessa laughed. "You didn't!"
Duncan just shrugged, half smiling.
Tessa renewed her laughter. Then she stopped and her face turned serious again. "But Duncan, you said that he saw you kill Slan on the bridge."
Duncan sighed, weighing just how to tell her what he'd told Richie, and why.
"I told him that Slan was after me, and that he wanted to kill me. I told him that Connor, being my older cousin, wanted to protect me. I left the parts about immortality, and Richie believed that Connor must have survived the fall from the bridge because ordinary people don't rise from the dead."
"I see," said Tessa, following the logic. "But, if you didn't tell him about immortals, how did you explain away the beheading?"
"I didn't."
"Pardon?" Tessa asked with French inflection. "But Duncan, he saw you kill a man."
"I know, Tess," Duncan sighed, defeated. "I told him that Slan would have killed me if I didn't kill him, and that it was self defense. And that at the time I had thought he'd killed Connor."
"But, you told me that you saw Connor fall off the bridge as you drove up?"
"I did."
"Then, if you knew he was ok—"
"Revenge, Tess," Duncan interjected. Then, in response to her quizzical expression: "Self defense, and avenging my cousin. Those are the reasons I gave Richie for killing Slan Quince."
"But, why?" She asked, still not understanding.
"Because those are things he can understand, Tess."
"But, how could a seventeen year old boy just accept that. To him it was murder!"
Duncan sighed. "He's eighteen," he corrected. "And no, it wasn't murder. It was self defense and revenge. In his mind that isn't murder, it's justifiable homicide."
"I don't care if he is eighteen. He's still just a boy. How can he see killing as justified?"
Duncan sighed, not liking the turn of this conversation. "Do you see it as justified?" He asked.
Tessa opened her mouth to answer, but caught herself. She paused as if she were considering the question more closely.
Unbeknownst to her, Duncan was holding his breath.
"Yes," she said at length. "But only because I know about immortals. I know what the gathering is, and that you had no choice. He doesn't know that."
"Do you think I should have told him the truth?" Duncan asked honestly.
Tessa didn't appear to have an answer to that.
"But he believed you? He accepted what you told him?" She answered his question with one of her own.
"I think so, Tess. I'm pretty sure he did," Duncan said, sounding more confident than he was feeling.
Tessa seem to accept this and lied back down again, curling into him. "I love you so much Duncan," she said.
"I love you too sweetheart." They held each other for a few moments, just content to be in each other's company. It felt right, like home.
In the back of his mind Duncan wanted to ask her if she would ever accept the times in his past when killing wasn't in self defense. He wondered if he could share the more violent parts of his past with her, or of the times he's been the one to issue challenges to other immortals on the belief that something they have done makes it justifiable for him to judge them deserving to die. Yes Slan left him no choice, but there are plenty of times when he has had the choice, and he chose to kill. Some of those times he regretted, but still others he knew that, given the right circumstances, he would make the same choice, and make similar choices now. Would she accept his Highland code of honor as a proper reason? Or that the game makes revenge fully expected and appreciated?
These thoughts were chased from his mind when Tessa's hands gave him reason to think of the immediate future. When their passions had finally exhausted them and they finally fell asleep, their thoughts were on much happier things.
The next morning Tessa accompanied Duncan to the hospital. They made a brief pit stop at the local Wonder Burger, Duncan surmising that Richie would have had just about enough of the hospital food by now. When the arrived they found that the visitors' parking lot was full.
"Why don't you head up ahead of me?" Tessa suggested. "I'll go park the car and then come find you."
Duncan debated for a moment before agreeing. "Room 304," he said. He gave her a quick kiss before getting out of the car and making his way into the hospital. Tessa drove off in search of a parking space as Duncan made his way to the elevators and up to the third floor.
"Morning, tough guy," he greeted after knocking twice on the open door to announce his presence.
Richie sat up straighter in bed and smiled brightly at the prospect of having his visitor return. "Good morning, Mr. MacLeod," he greeted warmly. Then, as if he caught himself, he restrained the delight on his face and put it behind a mask of casual apathy.
"What brings you back here?" He asked, "It can't be the food."
Duncan smiled. Richie had said exactly what Duncan was hoping he'd say.
"Funny you're mentioning that," he said as he removed the takeout bag from the folds of his coat. He was smart enough this time to wear the shorter leather one.
"What is this, MacLeod?" Richie asked as Duncan set the bag on the food tray and slid the tray in front of him. "Cheeseburger and fries!" Richie abandoned his façade as pure, unadulterated joy shone on his young face. "You shouldn't have." He unwrapped the cheeseburger and shoved a large bite in his mouth. "Mmm, heavenly.""Easy there, Richie," Duncan directed. "If you choke on that I get in trouble."
Richie nodded because he was too busy stuffing his face to take time to speak. He practically inhaled the cheeseburger. Duncan meanwhile had poured a glass of water from the neglected picture on the tray. He handed it to Richie, who gulped it to wash the cheeseburger down.
"Thanks MacLeod. My taste buds are forever in your debt." Richie then began fishing fries out of the takeout bag.
"So how are you feeling?" Duncan asked after Richie had helped himself to several handfuls of fries. "I mean besides hungry."
Richie grinned sheepishly and half shrugged through chewing. "Much better now," he said as he poured himself another glass of water. "The doctors say my kidney output is almost back to normal," he added, figuring that Duncan would want the medical opinion as well.
"That's wonderful, Richie," said Duncan, masking his relief with happiness.
"They think they'll be able to let me outta here the day after tomorrow."
"Not a moment too soon, I bet," Duncan offered. What he really wanted to do was ask Richie where he would be going once he was discharged from the hospital, but he decided against it. He figured that Richie wouldn't just tell him, and undue strife between them was something to be avoided.
"Yeah, tell me about it," Richie said as he balled up the takeout bag and threw it at the trash bin on the other side of the room. It bounced off the rim of the basket and fell on the floor. "Damn."
Duncan got up and put it in the trash.
"Think I can make the cup?" Richie asked, holding the disposable water cup in readiness.
Duncan paused half-crouched from picking up bag and eyed Richie critically, waiting for him to make his decision. In the end he went for it, landing the cup squarely in the bin. "Swish!" He exclaimed, pumping a fist. "Oh yeah, nothing but net."
"Nice shot."
Startled, Richie looked over and saw Tessa standing in the doorway and suddenly all the amusement washed clean off his face. His expression was quickly schooled to neutrality as he looked quickly from Tessa to Duncan, then back again.
"Hey, sweetheart," said Duncan as he crossed the room to where she stood. He gave her a quick kiss then led her in by the hand to show Richie that he trusted her, and ergo that he should too. "
Richie Ryan, this is Tessa Noel. Tess, this is Richie." Duncan introduced the two as informally as he could, sensing the awkwardness of the situation. Tessa had been there that night when Richie broke in, although she was wearing a lot less clothing. And Richie had just been the petty thief.
"Hello, Richie," said Tessa, smiling. However the smile did not quite reach her eyes. The boy looked even younger than she remembered, and even smaller. Now she knew why Duncan had insisted they stop for takeout on the way over. She too shared his opinion that he looked like a lost little boy, in no way resembling the smooth-talking petty criminal Duncan had described he struck a bargain with at the police station. She also noted the lack of personal touches in the room. No one but Duncan had been visiting Richie, nor did they send him any well wishes. Indeed, it was difficult for her to remind herself that this neglected child was the same one who broke into their antique store a few weeks ago.
However, Richie picked up on the smallest hint of insincerity in her demeanor from a lifetime of practice, and unfortunately he missed the real reasons why.
"The lady from the antique store," Richie declared, his voice and expression remaining perfectly neutral.
"The boy from the antique store," Tessa echoed with a slight laugh. Richie surmised why she was here. He was supposed to apologize.
"What are you doing here?" He tried to keep the harsh sarcasm and suspicion out of his voice.
"I wanted to see for myself that you were ok," she answered.
At least that sentiment was sincere. Richie was quiet a moment, not knowing how to respond.
"She would have come by sooner, but she's been laid up with the flu," Duncan explained.
Richie looked at him with heavy scrutiny to see if he could spot a lie. He couldn't. "Well the doctors say I should be turning handsprings any day now," he informed her, his voice cool and distant.
"I'm glad to hear it," answered Tessa with a smile, ignoring Richie's tone.
Richie could tell that she meant it. He didn't know what to make of her or her presence here. MacLeod was easy to figure out: he had saved his life so naturally he wanted to check up on him. Also, he came to tell him the truth about what had happened back on Soldier's Bridge. Richie believed that Duncan felt that if he knew the truth he'd be more willing to keep quiet; or at least it would be easier for him to do so now that he knew what had really happened. But now MacLeod has brought his woman. What did she want? It can't be as simple as just checking up on him.
Richie didn't know what else to say, so he said nothing. He shifted his gaze from Duncan and Tessa and turned to look out the window. Duncan, sensing the slight tension in the air, felt it best to end the visit here.
"Get some rest," he said as he led Tessa out of the room.
Richie didn't answer him. He didn't even turn around.
"Did you see how bare his room was?" Tessa asked once they were out of earshot of Richie's room.
"I noticed," Duncan acknowledged as he swiftly made his way towards the elevator.
"I didn't remember him looking so young," she added once they had arrived.
Duncan pushed the 'down' button. "Well he was wearing a bulky jacket and a bandana at the time," he said. "And I do recall you telling me that he was 'just a boy.'"
Just then the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Duncan hit the button for the first floor.
"Well you were about to cut his head off at the time!" Tessa defended. "And even still, he looked a lot younger in that hospital bed than he did that night in the store."
"Well I'd sensed other immortals about and there he was playing with swords," Duncan said in his defense. "Of course, by the time I noticed the inexperienced way he held the sword and the real fear in his eyes, I didn't have time to do anything before our other guests arrived."
Duncan hated having to lie to Tessa, but Slan's immortal presence he washed out Richie's weaker pre-immortal one. He had truly thought that Richie was a full-fledged immortal. Of course, he couldn't tell Tessa that without revealing who Richie was, and he hadn't even considered that possibility yet.
"Who'd have thought that it was just a random coincidence," said Tessa with a slight laugh.
"Amen to that," Duncan agreed as the elevator doors opened again. The two of them made their way out of the hospital hand in hand. "So where'd you park?" He asked as soon as they hit the parking lot.
"This way," Tessa said as she guided him through the rows of cars to the back left corner of the lot.
"I don't think you could have parked any further away if you tried," said Duncan once they finally reached the car.
"The lot was full," Tessa stated plainly as she unlocked the door and climbed in. Then she reached across and unlocked the passenger side so Duncan could get in also.
"So what do you think of our little thief?" Duncan asked finally. They had driven most of the way in amicable silence.
"Well aside from the fact that he doesn't look eighteen or even capable of bypassing our alarm the way he did?" Tessa answered as though she was stating the obvious. Then she sighed slightly to give the question more serious consideration. "I don't think he's eating right."
"Yeah I picked up on that," Duncan agreed. Silence resumed once more, but only briefly.
"Why?" Tessa asked suspiciously, regarding her lover with as much scrutiny as possible in her peripheral vision.
"Why what?" Duncan asked, trying his best not to sound self-incriminating.
"Why did you ask me what I thought?" She asked, her voice losing none of its questioning tone.
"Well, you insisted on going to see him," said Duncan. "I was just wondering if he's what you expected."
"Well, he isn't what I expected," Tessa admitted after a brief pause. "I was expecting—well I don't know what I was expecting, but he certainly wasn't it."
"I know what you mean," Duncan agreed. Silence returned, but again, only briefly.
"So are you going to tell me the other reason?" Tessa asked as she pulled into the back lot of the antique store.
"What other reason?" Duncan asked innocently as he got out of the car.
"The other reason you're so interested in what I think of Robby Ryan."
"Richie," Duncan corrected.
Tessa groaned in frustration. "Fine. Why are you so interested in Richie Ryan?"
"Hey, don't get mad at me just because you didn't remember his name," Duncan protested as they entered through the back into Tessa's workshop.
"I'm not mad!" Tessa snapped.
Duncan arched an eyebrow at her.
Tessa took a deep, calming breath before beginning again. "Look, Duncan. I've known you for twelve years. I know that might not seem like a long time to your four hundred year old Scottish ass, but it is for me. I know you well enough to know when you've got something on your mind. You gave yourself away when you asked me about Richie. Now are you going to tell me what it is?"
Duncan sighed and took her into his arms. After a quick embrace the separated so that he could look her in the eyes.
"Am I really that predictable?" He asked sincerely, his lips faintly quirking into a smile.
Whatever anger Tessa felt melted away as she smiled at him. "You've become a creature of habit, Duncan MacLeod," she announced.
Without warning, Duncan took her back into his arms and kissed her passionately, dipping her back slightly as she melted into his embrace.
"Did you see that coming?" He asked when their lips parted. He still held her at the awkward angle.
Tessa took a moment to regain her composure. "Men are always thinking about sex, Duncan," Tessa answered with an impish grin. "Every woman knows that, and expects it."
Duncan just shook his head and kissed her again.
"Well if you know what's going to happen, then this is your last chance to object," he said, tracing kisses down her neck.
"When in twelve years have I ever objected?" Tessa asked, running her fingers through his hair, pulling out his hair tie.
"I know," said Duncan as he lowered her to the floor. "You're so predictable."
The question Duncan was hesitating to ask and the answers that Tessa was seeking were forgotten as they once again gave into their passions.
"You never did tell me why you're so interested in Richie," Tessa reminded Duncan as she began clearing the table. Tonight was his turn to cook, so it was her turn to do the dishes.
Duncan sighed as he stood. "You wash, I'll dry," he said, bringing the rest of the dishes over to the sink and grabbing a dishtowel.
"So, about Richie?" Tessa asked again, handing him a glass.
Duncan wiped it down and put it back in the cabinet where it belonged. He knew that he had to approach Tessa with this because she'd be furious if he acted without consulting her first. However, that didn't make asking her any easier.
"Right, about Richie," he said, taking a plate from Tessa to dry and thinking of the best way to broach the subject. "Well, he's eighteen now. That makes him a legal adult."
"Aside from the fact that he in no way looks his age, Duncan, what's your point?" She asked as she handed him another glass.
"Well being an underage thief is one thing. They seal your records when you turn eighteen. It's like getting a clean slate."
"Yes, I am familiar with the American judiciary system," Tessa informed him disinterestedly as she handed him a bowl.
"Well, if he continues down this path, he'll eventually be caught. He could easily do ten years or more if he broke into some jewelry store the way he broke in here."
"I'm sure Richie's very well aware of that fact, Duncan," Tessa declared as she handed him another plate. "None of this explains your keen interest in his welfare."
"Oh I know he's aware of it, Tess," Duncan admitted. "But I don't think that means he's going to quit stealing."
Tessa put the down the serving plate she was scrubbing and turned to face her lover.
"You saw the boy, Tess. Does he look like the type that would survive in prison?"
"It would teach the boy not to break the law," she said matter-of-factly.
"Why do you think he steals, Tess?" Duncan asked in the tone of one who already knows the answer.
"Because he was a minor living as a ward of the state, and he knew that the DSS would try and cover his tracks as best they could because it helps his chance at fostering or adoption, which is what's best for them."
Duncan was momentarily thrown by the logic to her explanation.
"So you think he's stealing because he can get away with it?" He asked at last.
"Don't you?" Tessa asked in return.
"But why stealing? What's the allure?"
"Duncan, I know it's been a long time since you were a teenager, but they are known to do things for the simple fact that they can get away with them."
Duncan sighed; she had a point.
"Tessa, the boy grew up a ward of the state, in and out of foster homes. You say that teenagers do things just because they can, and I agree with you. Teenagers who don't like the way their life is going blame the authority figures around them. Then the blame turns into rebellion."
"What do you mean?" Tessa asked, needing clarification.
"Some things haven't changed in four hundred years," Duncan said with surprising sincerity. "Tess, the boy's angry, angry at his parents for not being there, angry at the DSS for shipping him between foster families, angry at the foster families for not being a real family, and for any number of other reasons."
"How do you know so much about his life?" Tessa questioned.
"Connor checked him out," Duncan admitted finally.
"Connor?"
"I didn't ask him to," Duncan defended. "But, like you said, I've become a creature of habit."
"Connor knew you'd want to help the boy," said Tessa in realization.
Duncan just grinned and half shrugged, not refuting the statement. "After what Connor told me about him, and after talking to him these past few days… Well, I don't think he's a hardened criminal by any means."
"He's well on his way," Tessa added.
"Yes he is," Duncan conceded. "He's just a kid who never caught a break in his life. He's never had a real home or a real family. He's angry at the world and probably has abysmal self esteem on top of it."
"He seemed confident enough to me," Tessa contradicted.
"Honestly Tessa, do you think that there was more substance there than bravado?" Tessa sighed, shaking her head after a moment's pause. She agreed with Duncan on that.
"So what are you saying?" She asked, hoping that Duncan would just come right out with what she was expecting him to say.
Duncan sighed. It was now or never.
"I'm saying that Richie's not a bad kid. He's just never really been given a chance to be anything other than what his self esteem and probably his foster families, teachers, and the police have told him he was: worthless, and then a worthless criminal. He's spent his life living to those expectations because that's all he's been given."
"I've taken introductory psychology courses too, Duncan," Tessa interjected lovingly but still impatiently.
"Well, now that he's eighteen all the rules have changed. The next guy isn't going to withhold charges because he wants Richie to keep his mouth shut about a few swordfights," Duncan told her plainly, continuing as though Tessa hadn't interrupted him. "And he doesn't deserve that."
"He deserves the consequences for his actions, Duncan, like everyone else," Tessa told him just as plainly.
"Yes," Duncan admitted, "But I think that if given the chance he'll decide not to take such risky actions."
Tessa sighed. She'd been right. "And you want to give him that chance," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I want to offer him a job working in the store."
Tessa's eyes widened in disbelief.
"He'll work off what he owes us for the window and the alarm, doesn't that sound appropriate?" Duncan appealed to her sense of justice.
"Duncan, the boy's a thief!" Tessa objected. "You're just going to give him free reign of the store he tried to rob? How do you know he won't just decide to liberate some of our merchandise once the coast is clear?"
"I'm not going to give him free reign of the store," Duncan clarified, sounding like Tessa had just insulted his intelligence. "He'll probably hate the job anyway. But since he's eighteen he'll need to get the money to pay rent somehow, and I'd rather that it be legitimate."
"So he can get a job somewhere," said Tessa.
"Who would hire him at a job that pays enough to live off of? Or that would give him enough hours if it did? He'd still be stealing to make up for the difference."
"So you'll give him a job and pay him generously to do it? Who'd have thought that attempting to rip off Duncan MacLeod would be so profitable," Tessa said with mild sarcasm.
Duncan sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. "Only long enough for him to build a decent resume reference. Then he'll probably apply for another job somewhere that's more to his tastes."
"You really have your heart set on helping this boy," Tessa said, shaking her head.
"Don't you?" Duncan asked, appealing to her sympathies this time.
"You can't right all the wrongs of the world, you know," she said. The honest sincerity in her voice was compelling.
"Not ever wrong," he conceded. "Just this one."
Tessa laughed and shook her head again. Duncan scooped her up and twirled her around, kissing her passionately before putting her down. After twelve years Tessa had become a creature of habit as well. He knew when she had agreed to something.
Now the only problem was convincing Richie.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), the next day Tessa had an appointment with the bicentennial committee. She was up for the commission on a commemorative sculpture to honor the past two hundred years of philanthropy by Seacouver's founding family (even though the city itself was considerably younger than that). That left Duncan to watch the store all day. After being closed for several days in a row with no advanced notice, it was not a good idea to close it again today. Duncan decided that Richie could wait until tomorrow.
A quick phone call to the hospital the next day confirmed that Richie was scheduled for discharge that morning. Duncan grabbed a pair of old sweats and put them in a plastic bag, figuring that Richie didn't have a change of clothes and would therefore have to manage to get from the hospital to wherever he lived in a hospital gown. Not a pleasant prospect by any means. He left Tessa in charge of the store and headed for the hospital.
He arrived in time to see Richie attempting to put his sneakers on, but he couldn't bend down quite far enough to tie the laces with the stitches in.
"Knock-knock," Duncan called out as he entered.
Richie turned around in mild surprise. Since Duncan hadn't visited him yesterday Richie figured that he was done taking an interest in him. After all Duncan had no real responsibility to him. It was nice that he cared enough to visit the first few times to be sure that Richie would pull through and all that. Once he had assurances that he would be just fine, what other reason could he possibly have for visiting him?
"Hey Mr. MacLeod," Richie answered, abandoning the efforts to tie his shoes. He stood up and turned around to face Duncan across the bed.
Duncan tried not to smile; Richie was wearing two hospital gowns tied together. "They've finally discharged me."
"Congratulations," said Duncan as he put the bag on the bed.
"What's that?" Richie asked, indicating the bag.
"Well I figured that your clothes wouldn't have survived your trip to the ER," Duncan explained as Richie looked in the bag. "They'll probably be a little big on you, but it beats trying to get across town dressed like that."
Richie blushed slightly when Duncan pointed out his attire.
"Well, go on." Richie gave Duncan a look that was somehow a combination of relief, suspicion, and gratitude as he headed into the bathroom to change into the sweats. Duncan noted how incredibly expressive the boys face and eyes could be.
"Just a little big, MacLeod," he said amusedly when he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later. The pant legs hung on the floor several inches to spite how high Richie had the waist pulled. The waist itself was also too big, but the elastic should keep the pants from falling down. The sweatshirt looked baggy because Richie's shoulders were nowhere near as broad as the Hghlander's, and the sleeves practically covered his hands. If anything they made the boy look even smaller than he already was.
"Yeah," Duncan agreed. "But not nearly as drafty."
That brokered a laugh that they both shared.
"Thank you," Richie said with surprising earnest.
"You're welcome," Duncan replied, slightly surprised and trying not to let it show. "Well, let's go."
"Go? Go where?"
"You've been discharged, I take that to mean that you don't have to hang around the hospital anymore," said Duncan in a slightly sarcastic tone.
"Yes, but…" Richie faltered, suddenly unsure of himself and the man in front of him.
Duncan sighed. Was it so hard for Richie to assume that people might just want to help him? "I'll give you a ride," Duncan offered, slightly exasperated.
"You don't have to," Richie said almost immediately. "I can take the bus."
"I don't see any change lying around. How were you going to afford it?" Duncan challenged.
"Hey, I can panhandle for it," Richie defended.
"I'm sure you can, now let's go," said Duncan as he turned around and headed for the door. He was not going to take no for an answer.
"Hey, look, Mr. MacLeod," Richie tried again, catching up to him. "If you wanna loan me fifty cents for the bus that's fine. You don't need to give me a ride."
Duncan turned around and tried his best to look patient. "The bus will bounce you around too much. You don't want to pull your stitches and wind up having to come back here, do you?"
Richie looked thoroughly miserable before hanging his head in defeat.
"Good, now let's go."
Duncan led them out of the hospital and to the parking lot. Thankfully he was able to park a bit closer this time.
"You've had this thing cleaned," Richie said when he climbed into the T-bird on the passenger side. "I can smell it."
"Well I had to get the blood stains out of it," Duncan said plainly as he started the engine. "Now, where can I drop you?"
"Head over towards Pauling," Richie directed.
Duncan shifted the car in gear and did as he was instructed. They spent the twenty-minute drive in amicable silence.
"Ok, Pauling," Duncan said as he stopped at a red light. "Now where?"
"Uh, where is this?" Richie looked around to get his bearings. "River Street," he said, noticing the signs. "Left."
Duncan flicked on his turn signal and went left as soon as the light changed.
"Up two more blocks," Richie directed. Duncan took them through two more traffic lights. "It's 254, the red townhouse on the right here."
Duncan pulled over in front of the townhouse grateful that he didn't need to parallel-park.
"This is your apartment?" Duncan asked, surveying the building. To say that it was in desperate need of renovations was an understatement.
"Yeah, upstairs," Richie admitted. "The landlord lives on the first floor."
Duncan merely nodded. "When do you get your stitches out?"
"Week from tomorrow," Richie answered. "But don't even think about it. I can find my own ride to the hospital."
"Sure you can," Duncan agreed amicably. He noticed how Richie was assuming that he wanted to help him. That's a start.
"Look, mister," Richie began, "you've been really great to me, and I know I don't deserve it. But really, I don't need any more help. I can take care of myself." He tried his best to get his point across without sounding ungrateful.
"Of course," said Duncan. He wasn't going to point out the fact that Richie was recently a thief who gets caught and a victim of gangland violence.
Richie noted the disbelief in Duncan's voice but didn't quite feel like arguing the point. "Well, thanks for the lift," he said instead. "See ya round, Mr. MacLeod."
Unfortunately Richie did the absolute worst thing he could have done in that situation. The T-bird top was down, so Richie decided to vault over the car door without opening it. He landed on the sidewalk with a grace and agility that Duncan would have thought impossible from an injured boy. That was, of course, until Richie's face contorted in pain and he collapsed in a heap. Duncan quickly climbed over the seats and jumped over the car door, landing next to Richie.
"You know, that's what doors are for," he said, squatting down next to Richie.
Richie just glared at him through gritted teeth as he clutched his midsection.
"Let me see," Duncan said gently.
Richie continued glared suspiciously for a moment longer before moving his hands out of the way. He flinched slightly in reflex when Duncan lifted the sweatshirt to examine the wound. This was not unnoticed.
"Well, you aggravated it, but you didn't pull the stitches," Duncan informed him, prodding the surrounding skin gently with his fingers.
Richie just grunted.
"I don't think you pulled the internal stitches, but we should take you back to the hospital, just to be sure."
"No way, man." Richie insisted. "No more hospitals!" He tried to sit up straighter but was prevented by pain.
"Are you sure?" Asked Duncan as he lowered the sweatshirt.
"I just want to sleep in my own bed," Richie said, or rather, he whined. At Duncan's skeptical look he added: "If I were bleeding inside, trust me, I'd feel it. And besides, there'd be bruising."
Duncan nodded through his surprise at Richie's statement. He was correct, but the only way he'd know that was if he'd experienced it before. Duncan was at the point where he could tell you exactly which organ or major blood vessel was damaged, but then he's had four hundred years of practice.
"Ok," Duncan agreed at last. He offered Richie both hands, which the teenager took after only a brief hesitation. Duncan pulled him to his feet almost effortlessly. Richie reclined against the side of the car to catch his breath. Duncan gave him the moment's pause. "Feel better?" He asked at length.
"Yeah," Richie admitted, his breathing returning to normal. "That probably wasn't the smartest stunt to pull," he added a moment later, rather sheepishly.
"No kidding," Duncan chided rather forcefully. Quickly he changed tactics. "You've got to remember that you're still injured," he added, much more gently this time.
"I'll work on that," Richie conceded, laughing slightly until the pain forced him to stop.
"Now, you said you apartment is on the second floor?"
Richie nodded. "Yeah."
Duncan held his arm out to the teenager, who appeared to weigh the decision to take it as though it were life and death. With a heavy sigh he took Duncan's arm while refusing to meet his eye. With the offered help he hobbled over to the front door, taking the few front steps slowly and one at a time, putting nearly all his weight on Duncan's arm, which the Highlander keep rigid like a crutch.
"Front door's unlocked during the day," said Richie, about to grab the doorknob, but Duncan beat him to it. What they found on the inside was a dimly lit staircase and a narrow hallway that ended with a door, probably to the landlord's apartment. The stairs were too narrow for the both of them to stand side by side, so Duncan stood slightly behind Richie, who was using both Duncan's arm and the handrail to help himself climb the stairs.
They had made it about a quarter of the way there when suddenly Richie's hand shot away from the railing. Duncan had to suddenly brace himself against the wall to keep from losing his balance and taking them both tumbling down the stairs.
"Splinter," Richie said, showing Duncan his hand the way a five-year-old shows off such injuries.
Duncan's glare softened at that. "Right," he said, taking Richie's hand and trying to hold it in better light. "I can't see it well enough from here," he admitted. "You might want to invest in a light for the hallway."
"It's on my to-do list," Richie said dismissively. He tried to use Duncan's arm to help him up the stairs, but quickly discovered that they were too steep for him to get the leverage he needed. Before he could say anything, however, Duncan scooped him up into his arms and proceeded to carry him up the stairs.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Richie protested.
"What's it look like?"
"Hey, put me down!"
"Sure thing tough guy." Duncan eased Richie down on the landing at the top of the staircase. They had fully ascended the stairs while Richie had been protesting.
Duncan tried the knob, but the door was locked. He looked expectantly at Richie, who leaned his head against the door in defeat.
"Romeo and them, they took my wallet. My key was in it."
"They have a key to your apartment?" Duncan asked, concerned.
"Yeah, but they don't know where I live," Richie reassured. "I guess I have to go bug the landlord for the spare. I hope he's home."
Duncan sighed heavily in exasperation. "Wait," he said as he pulled out his own wallet. He then proceeded to deftly pick the lock with a credit card.
"Wow man, you got that on the first try!" Richie was highly impressed.
Duncan hated the irony but didn't see that he had much choice. He nearly told Richie that all he has to do is practice at something to get good at it, but the reality of what it was they were referring to quickly set in and Duncan changed his mind in the last minute. Instead he turned the knob and swung the door open. Richie hobbled inside and turned on the light in the kitchen.
Duncan was surprised to see a cluttered order about the place, even though it appeared to not have been thoroughly cleaned in eons. The dishes were clean and dry on the drying rack, there was no trash or leftover food lying around, and even the small table was relatively clear. The place didn't smell too appealing, but it wasn't overpowering. Duncan surmised it to be mold.
"I'd offer you a drink, but I'm afraid I'm down to my last six-pack," Richie told him. "Of soda," he added quickly upon seeing the look on Duncan's face. "Look for yourself," he said as he swung open the refrigerator door.
Duncan saw that the boy wasn't lying. There was a six-pack of store brand discount cola sitting there, next to a quarter of a gallon of milk that had another two days before going bad. Other than that the fridge was bare.
"So I haven't gone shopping yet," Richie offered when Duncan shut the refrigerator door. He opened the freezer door and was relieved to see a few TV dinners and a gallon of ice cream. They boy was only eating meager meals, but at least he wasn't starving.
"I can see that," Duncan said as he shut the door. "You have this place all to yourself?"
"Yeah," Richie said with a hint of pride. "Happened kind of accidentally, actually. My last foster father was a real winner. I'd only been with him three months. I came home one night, and found him lying on the kitchen floor. Turns out his liver couldn't handle his drinking problem."
Duncan blinked. "You mean he's dead?"
"Yep," said Richie, not showing a bit of remorse. "Guy was an asshole, used the foster checks to buy beer so he could use his paychecks for the rent and stuff. Left me on my own to do the shopping. If I didn't buy food, and cook it, we wouldn't eat. He also trashed the place. That's the smell of stale beer."
Duncan nodded, finally being able to place the one smell he couldn't identify when he entered.
"I cleaned up as best I could," Richie continued. "A mop is also on my to-do list though. Anyway, his equally alcoholic brother came by a while later. His family made all the arrangements. Didn't even notice that I was living here. Thought I was just an errand boy or something. They didn't call the DSS, and neither did I."
"You mean no one knew that your foster father was dead?" Duncan asked, shocked but not all that surprised.
"Not at first," said Richie. "I had barely two months before I turned eighteen. I was able to convince the landlord to transfer my name to the lease. He's been pretty lenient with the rent, too. I pay him what I can when I can. It equals the grand total each month, but I can't afford to give it to him in a lump sum and he's cool with that."
"What about social services?" Duncan asked.
"Oh them?" Richie asked dismissively. "Somebody must have forgotten to forward them the memo. They showed up here the day after I turned eighteen. I showed them my name on the lease and legally told them to get lost or I'd call the cops on them for trespassing and harassment," he finished with a grin.
"You got lucky," Duncan told him.
Richie couldn't read his tone of voice. "Tell me about it," he agreed.
Duncan sighed. Time to bring up the matter of Richie's employment.
"Well you must not have a steady job or else you'd have a set rent schedule."
Richie eyed him suspiciously, suddenly on the defensive. "I do odd jobs for people, here and there," he said elusively, not even sure why he bothered to dignify that comment with an answer.
"What sort of odd jobs?" Duncan persisted. Richie seriously debated telling him to fuck off, but decided against it. After all, he owed the man his life.
"I'm pretty good with cars," he offered. "And lots of people will pay what they can for a strong back for an afternoon."
Duncan nodded. He'd seen the boy's rap sheet. 'Good with cars' meant stealing stereos and hubcaps and his 'strong back' was more often used to carry the loot from petty theft. There were also many reported incidents of assault, mostly for street fighting. Duncan assumed it was for incidents like the one a few days ago, and that the boy was short tempered.
"Well," he said, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a business card. "If you decide you're in the market for steady employment…"
After a brief pause Richie took the card offered to him, inspecting it briefly before putting it on the table. "What do you want?" He asked suspiciously.
"I could use a hand around the store," Duncan explained. "A strong back, as you put it."
Richie still looked skeptical.
"You could work off the window and the alarm," he continued. "I'll pay you of course."
"Why are you doing this?" Richie asked seriously after a moment's pause.
"Well, like I'm in the market for a store hand, and you're in the market for a steady job."
"So naturally you offer it to me," said Richie skeptically.
"Why not?"
"Why not?" Richie repeated as though Duncan had voiced the stupidest question on earth. "I'm the thief who tried to rob you, remember?"
"Which is why I said you'd also be working off what you did to my window and alarm system," Duncan reminded him. He couldn't keep from smiling.
"What's to stop me from just robbing you blind while your back is turned?" Richie challenged.
"You try that again, as an adult, and the courts will try you, as an adult. You could do ten years for that." Duncan's tone was serious and held a hint of warning. "And besides, you won't do it. You need the steady, legitimate income, and you owe me."
"You'd be a fool to trust me," Richie informed him, favoring the linoleum over eye contact.
"And you'd be a fool not to take the job," Duncan countered with a smirk.
There was a brief, awkward pause.
"Look, take a few days to rest and recover," Duncan said at length. "If you want the job, we open at eight a.m. on Monday. Show up any time before six."
"You're serious, aren't you," said Richie quietly, looking up.
Duncan grinned. "Gave you a business card, didn't I?"
Richie laughed slightly.
"Take it easy," Duncan directed, heading for the door. "Hopefully I'll see you Monday. If not, well, it's your choice." Duncan was about to pull the door shut behind him when he turned back. "You have my number there if you need anything."
"Right," said Richie absently. "Thanks."
"No problem."
With that Duncan shut the door and headed back down to the T-bird, fairly certain that he would see Richie at the store at some point on Monday.