Richie moaned, stirring finally. Once again he found his movement impeded by both pain and numerous monitoring devices. This time, however, he remembered where he was.
"I really hate the hospital," he whined, his voice harsh from sleep and lack of moisture.
Duncan stirred at the sound of Richie's voice. He had been dozing in the chair next to the hospital bed. "One wouldn't know it to look at you." The relief in his voice was tempered both by his own exhaustion and by his amusement at Richie's statement.
Richie merely moaned his response.
Duncan got up and made his way to the dinner tray to pour Richie a glass of water. "Here," he said, handing it over.
Richie took the glass and drank deeply.
"Easy," Duncan corrected.
Soon Richie had downed the entire glass. "Heavenly," he declared, lying back and closing his eyes for a moment.
"You sound better, too," Duncan appraised, gazing down at the teen.
Richie then opened his eyes and surveyed his employer. "You look like hell," he observed.
"That's because he spent the night in that wretched visitor's chair," came Tessa's voice from the doorway. She was holding two cups of what the cafeteria claimed to be coffee.
"Night?" Richie asked, more fearful than confused.
"Yes," Tessa affirmed as she entered the room and handed a cup to Duncan. "It's now Sunday morning."
Richie groaned and closed his eyes again. He didn't know which bothered him more: the fact that he'd spent yet another night in the hospital or the fact that MacLeod had spent the night with him in the hospital.
"I'll go find the doctor and tell him Richie's awake," said Tessa as she left the room.
Duncan took a long swig of his coffee and sat down again. He had long since lost track of how many cups of this vile liquid he's consumed so far.
"I'm sorry," Richie said at last, his eyes downcast.
"For what?"
"For being so much trouble." Richie kept his eyes on the blanket as his hands absently played with the hem of it.
"Don't worry about it," Duncan said dismissively. "I'd rather have to bring you back to the hospital than deal with the consequences of not knowing about the infection."
"I should have checked it," Richie said, still avoiding looking at his employer. "I usually wash it off when it gets like that."
"It's done that before?" Duncan asked seriously, shocked.
"It's never been that bad," Richie defended, this time stealing a glance in the Highlander's direction before returning his gaze to the blanket.
Duncan was intently serious. "Richie, when has it done that before?"
"Just about every evening," Richie admitted. "Sometimes when I wake up in the mornings, too."
Duncan forced his sharp intake of breath into silence and bit his tongue against a choice comment. Now was not the time for insensitivity.
"Why didn't you tell someone?" He asked, deciding at the last minute to replace 'me' with 'someone.'
"What's there to tell?" Richie asked, finally making eye contact with the Highlander. "It would puss a bit, and sometimes bleed a little. I'd wash it off and it would be fine. A little stiff and sore maybe, but totally fine."
"The infection's so bad they've got you on straight penicillin," Duncan informed the teenager. "I'd hardly call that 'fine.'"
Richie quickly disguised his shock with his most charming grin. "Well it's a good thing I'm not allergic to it then!" He declared.
Once again Duncan bit back a choice comment.
"They figured the amoxicillin they prescribed you wasn't strong enough," Duncan ventured.
Richie immediately broke eye contact. "I wouldn't know," he said quietly.
"Why wouldn't you know?" Duncan asked carefully, though he already knew the answer.
Richie mumbled something inaudibly.
"What?"
"I said that's because I haven't been taking them!" He said, rather forcefully this time.
"Why not?" Duncan feared he already knew the answer to this, too.
"Because I can't afford it, ok?" Richie blurted out, turning his gaze to Duncan. However, his defenses came crashing into place. There was open defiance in his eyes now.
"Richie—"
"What the hell do you want from me?" He asked angrily. "I'm eighteen, no longer anyone's responsibility. Do you have any idea how much those drugs cost without insurance?"
"That doesn't explain why you didn't re-dress the wound," Duncan said, meeting the anger in Richie's voice before he could stop himself.
"Yeah, well, gauze and medical tape aren't something I have just lying around the house, and I don't have band-aids big enough," Richie declared with easy sarcasm.
"Were you doing anything at all to make sure it didn't get infected?" Duncan asked, his feelings on the matter clear in his tone of voice.
"Look mister, on my budget all I could do was wash it three times a day with anti-bacterial soap, and pray."
"There's still Medicare and Medicaid," Duncan said, his tone finally softening.
"Yeah, well, those are for the handicapped and retirees without pension plans. Richie Ryan, eighteen years old and perfectly healthy, is fully capable of holding a full time job and therefore eligible for company health benefits." The sarcasm dripped from his voice.
"You were turned down?"
"I know how the system works," Richie admitted, this time tiredness replacing the angry, biting sarcasm. "Plenty of my foster families have been told the same thing. You have no idea how many times I've had to fake sick for the doctors so they could get a prescription for one of their own children."
Duncan nodded, fully believing Richie's claim and once again openly wishing that they were in Paris where everyone's entitled to basic healthcare.
All of a sudden Richie's expression changed again. "Wait, you brought me in through emergency."
"Yes," Duncan admitted, unsure of what Richie was getting at.
"I remember having to wait in the ER forever before we were seen."
"The ER is worse than the DMV when it comes to waiting," said Duncan lightly, still unsure.
"Then how'd I get admitted?" Richie asked. "I have no insurance and this wasn't an emergency."
Duncan quirked a small smile and half shrugged, having been caught in the act.
Richie's expression then shifted to one of abject horror. However, he was saved from having to comment by the arrival of the doctor.
"Sorry that took so long," the doctor said as he entered.
"Take it easy," Duncan said to Richie as he left the teen and the doctor alone. He met Tessa in the hallway.
"That went well," she said sarcastically.
Duncan gave her a withered look. "How much did you hear?" He asked.
"Enough," she answered. "Did you have to fight with the boy?"
"We weren't fighting," Duncan defended.
"Uh huh," Tessa's voice still held sarcasm. "Then what would you call that in there?"
Duncan sighed heavily, unable to answer her.
"Healthcare in this country is a sick joke," he said at length, changing the subject.
Tessa softened at the remark. "I agree," she said. "I'm glad my government reimburses us for my own health expenses."
"Is that why you complain so much when you fill out the paperwork?" Duncan asked with a smile.
This time it was Tessa who gave the withered look. "Let's just wait to see what the doctor says," she said, changing the subject. "Then you can go home and get some rest."
"I'm fine," Duncan lied.
"Duncan, after a fight yesterday morning, then taking Richie here in the afternoon and spending the night in that chair, no one would be 'fine.'"
Duncan sighed. She was right because he didn't have the energy to argue with her. Just then the doctor reemerged from Richie's room.
"Well?" Duncan asked.
"Well he's responding nicely to the treatment," said the doctor. "His fever's lessened and the visible signs of the infection are greatly reduced."
"Thank God," Tessa breathed, relieved. Although no one had mentioned it, she knew that she caused the internal bleeding when she accidentally hit Richie with the sack of coins. Her guilt over the situation was immense and unspoken as she chose to focus on abject worry instead.
"Did the infection cause any permanent damage?" Duncan asked, the importance of the matter negating any beating around the bush.
"It doesn't look like it at this point," the doctor answered. "We're going to continue to monitor his kidney function for the next twenty-four hours. I doubt any new complications will develop, but we need to keep checking, just in case."
Duncan nodded. It looked like another night in the hospital for Richie.
"When will he be able to go home?" Tessa asked.
"If all goes well we'll be able to release him tomorrow evening," said the doctor. "Along with a prescription for penicillin, which someone had better make sure he takes this time."
"Oh he'll take it this time, doctor. Don't worry," Duncan said seriously.
"Good," said the doctor. "Right now the boy needs his rest, and from the looks of it you folks do, too. I'll see you tomorrow." The doctor regarded them both critically for a moment, hoping they'd take the hint and go home for some much-needed rest, before leaving to continue with his rounds.
Once the doctor departed, Tessa made to head over to Richie's room. Duncan's grabbing her arm stopped her.
"I want to see him," she insisted.
"You heard the doctor," said Duncan. "Richie needs to rest."
"I won't be long. I just want to apologize," said Tessa sincerely.
"You can do that tomorrow when he's not going to be tired and irritable."
"Well he wouldn't be quite so irritable if you hadn't picked a fight with him!" Tessa hissed, wrenching herself free from Duncan's grasp.
"Tess," Duncan started, but he couldn't find a way to finish the statement. She was right of course. Lecturing the boy on his carelessness, or rather, on his greater concern with money than his own welfare, er, on his stubborn pride getting in the way of his admitting there was a problem or asking them for help.
Duncan sighed heavily, defeated. "He didn't trust us enough to admit anything was wrong. He felt obligated to help out at the store to pay for the window, and to repay a debt he thinks he owes me for saving his life." He left the private hurt those realizations caused unsaid as he searched Tessa's face for some sort of response.
Her gaze was unyielding at first, but then softened as she regarded the look in her lover's eyes. "Only you, Duncan, would turn this into a matter of trust," she said lightly, dismissively, forgivingly.
He blinked in surprise, so she continued: "He couldn't afford the prescription, so he self-medicated as best he could, waiting for you to pay him so he could go buy what he needed. You're his employer and he was waiting for his wages. That has nothing to do with trust."
"He could have asked for an advance on his paycheck," Duncan defended.
"Duncan, I know it's been frightfully long since you've had to work for anyone but yourself, but think: is it appropriate to ask your employer for a loan against your first paycheck when you haven't even started working there yet?"
The Highlander sighed, she was right about that.
"If he had told me why he needed it I would have given it to him," he said at last, and it was the truth. Even if she was right in assuming that he would have been more than suspicious if Richie had asked for a handout on the first day, it goes without saying that he would have agreed to the loan if it would help ensure the teen's health.
"I know that, but does he?" Tessa asked.
It was a simple question, and Duncan opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came out as another realization struck him.
"Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod may look at the world in terms of honor, trust, loyalty, and all sorts of romantic ideals, but an eighteen-year-old boy who grew up in the foster system does not," Tessa continued. "For him it has nothing to do with trust, or some romanticized idea about selflessly repaying a life debt. It's about propriety."
Duncan blinked. "Propriety?"
Tessa sighed. For a man of nearly four hundred years, Duncan could be denser than a fencepost sometimes.
"Duncan, you saved his life and offered him a job, asking nothing in return, all the while knowing he's a thief. Think about it for a moment. Would a boy like that understand your motives? I know you Duncan, the way you need to help people. But Richie, he comes from a world where no one helps anyone unless they stand something to gain."
"I already told him why I did those things," said Duncan, confused.
"I'm sure you did," said Tessa, "but altruism isn't something his mind can fathom. He's still trying to figure out why you've been so nice to him, something in and of itself he's probably not used to, either. Why would he do anything to jeopardize the opportunity you've given him?"
"Winding up back in the hospital doesn't count as jeopardizing?" Duncan asked incredulously.
Tessa forced herself to remain patient. "He didn't know he'd wind up in the hospital," she said. "He wouldn't have if I hadn't hit him."
Duncan could easily hear the guilt in her voice. "Tess—"
"Even still," she said, cutting him off. "He didn't tell you because asking for a loan would have been inappropriate considering his position, and dangerous to that position considering the way he is programmed to think."
It took a few moments but the light of realization began to dawn in Duncan's eyes.
Tessa smiled triumphantly. "In his mind, he didn't do anything wrong."
"And like an idiot I had to confront him about it," Duncan admitted.
Tessa's smile quirked into a smirk and she didn't refute the statement. "He didn't do anything wrong," she restated. "But it would all be moot if I hadn't re-injured him."
"Tessa—"
Once again she cut him off. "If it weren't for me he wouldn't be here, we all three of us know that. I caused him to be here, and then you lecture him about it when he doesn't even believe it's his fault."
"But Tess—"
"He blames me, and then you and your argument, and he must hate me terribly now. So yes, Duncan, I want to go apologize."
"Tess, listen to me," Duncan said at last, finally able to get a word in edgewise. "He still had the infection, but even he probably didn't know how bad it was. All you did was cause everyone to notice it so we could get it treated."
"But, the bruising—"
This time Duncan was the one to cut her off. "Wouldn't have been nearly so bad if it weren't for the infection," he finished. "Tess, I've seen men die from infections like that. Believe me, Richie is better off having to come back to the hospital. You may want to apologize for your insensitivity, but I'm pretty sure that insensitivity saved his life."
Tessa's eyes widened in surprise. Through her guilt and worry she hadn't even considered that possibility. She searched Duncan's face to be sure that he was telling the truth, and she found that he was.
"Let's go home," he said tiredly. "You can apologize tomorrow. He'll be in a better mood the closer he is to discharge anyway."
Tessa was about to protest again when it suddenly struck her how tired he looked. He had spent the night in a chair in Richie's room, and the day before had been no picnic either. Her lover's tired, almost pleading eyes were enough to make her reconsider.
"Alright," she acquiesced at last.
Duncan couldn't stop himself from sighing in relief, and Tessa couldn't stop herself from laughing at him. She put her arm through his, saying: "Let's go home then, Duncan."
Gratefully the Highlander let himself be led back towards the elevators.
When they got back to the loft, Tessa insisted that Duncan take a nap, which he agreed to readily once he had showered. He slept fitfully and only the smell of something baking in the oven was able to rouse him. He stumbled into the kitchen in boxers and a tee shirt, barefoot, hair all in tangles.
"What's for dinner?" He asked blearily.
Tessa turned from the pot on the stove she was tending and laughed out lout at her lover's appearance. "It will be beef stew when it's ready," she said once her laughter died down.
"Then what's in the oven?" Duncan asked, pointing.
"Oh that?" Tessa dismissed lightly as she returned her ministrations to the pot. "Just a chocolate cake."
"Dessert tonight? What's the special occasion?" Duncan asked as he came up behind her and snaked his arms around her middle.
"Actually," Tessa said as she wormed her way out of his embrace so she could reach the salt, "it's for Richie."
Now it was Duncan's turn to laugh. "A peace offering?"
"Something like that," she admitted as she opened the oven to get a better view of her creation. The smell of freshly baked chocolate cake suddenly assaulted them in the kitchen. Duncan backed off as she opened the oven door the rest of the way. Sliding her hands into oven mitts, Tessa removed the cake from the oven and set it down on a back stove burner to cool.
"Are you going to give him the whole cake?" Duncan asked, regarding the dessert longingly.
"I was going to bring a sizeable piece of it to the hospital tomorrow," she answered.
"Then, can we—"
"Yes Duncan, we can have it for dessert tonight."
Duncan's lopsided grin as he tried to voice his thanks struck Tessa as something she might expect from someone like Richie and not from a four hundred year old immortal, and the thought made her laugh.
"Why don't you go make yourself presentable," she said, shooing him out of the kitchen. "I'll call you when it's ready?"
"The cake?"
"The stew! Now go!"
Duncan kissed her playfully before doing as he was told. Not ten minutes later Tessa was calling him back to the table. He reemerged wearing a decent pair of sweats and with his hair freshly combed and tied back. Tessa handed him a bowl of stew and a soupspoon when he entered. A moment later and they were seated at the dinner table enjoying Tessa's satisfactory cooking.
"Mr. Borton picked up the sculpture today, while you were asleep," Tessa told, blushing slightly as she grinned.
Duncan looked up at her expectantly. "Well, what did he say? Did he like it?"
"He said he loved it," she said, beaming. "He wrote out a check to cover what he hasn't already paid me, and he threw in a little something on top, too."
"Oh, sweetheart, that's wonderful!"
"He said he's going to make it one of the centerpieces in his garden. He plans to use it as a hold for morning glories."
"Well I hope he lets you see it," said Duncan. "Morning glory flowers are beautiful in bloom."
"I know," said Tessa wistfully.
"Do you have any other commissions in the works?"
When the smile faded from her face Duncan already knew the answer.
"Just the bicentennial piece," she answered, trying to sound disinterested.
"Well just so long as you don't accept any more commissions for a while you should be able to finish it on time."
Tessa nodded but returned her gaze to her stew. Duncan figured that it was best to let it lie for now. The bicentennial celebration was still nearly four months away. He knew that Tessa's artist's perfectionism coupled with the sheer grand scale of her design concepts would mean that the project could easily take all that time and then some, so the need for her to actually start working on it was considerable. However, Duncan decided not to point that out to her tonight. She was still uncharacteristically sensitive about the entire topic, and Duncan had a more immediate concern he wanted to raise with her. He let the silence stretch for a while as they ate, trying to come up with the best way to broach the subject.
He eventually settled on the direct approach.
Meanwhile Tessa had gone back to the pot on the stove for a second helping, taking Duncan's bowl with her.
"Ah, Tess?" He began, slightly unsure of himself.
She looked over at him expectantly from the stove.
"There's something I'd like to talk about."
Tessa's brow furrowed slightly in curiosity. "What is it?"
"Richie."
Tessa let out a breath that neither knew she had been holding. She was grateful that it didn't have to do with another immortal, or so she told herself, and it was the truth, just not all of it. She also knew that they would be talking about Richie some time before they went to the hospital tomorrow.
"What about Richie?" She asked cautiously, setting his bowl in front of him before regaining her seat at the table.
"Even if they release him tomorrow, the infection isn't going to be gone."
"Isn't that why they're prescribing him penicillin?"
"Yes," Duncan admitted. "But straight penicillin is powerful stuff."
"He seems to be doing fine with it." Tessa was unsure of where this was going, but she had a few guesses.
"Yes, but he's in the hospital, and he's taking it intravenously. When he gets out, he'll be back at his apartment alone, with a bottle of pills."
"So?" Tessa ventured. She didn't want to tip her hand just yet that she had figured out what Duncan was getting at.
"So there are a lot of rules to follow when taking penicillin pills," Duncan answered.
"And you're worried about him following those rules," Tessa stated.
Duncan nodded. "If he doesn't he could wind up doing more harm than good."
"But Duncan," Tessa interjected. "What makes you think he's even going to be taking them? After all, he didn't fill the last prescription they gave him."
"Because I'm filling the prescription for him tomorrow before he's released," Duncan said flatly.
Tessa smiled at him. "Alright," she said, both amused and brightened by her lover's attitude. "So you'll make sure that he has the pills. How are you going to ensure that he takes them, and takes them correctly?"
This time it was Duncan who smiled: the sixty-four thousand dollar question. "I want Richie to stay with us for a while," he answered. "Just until he's healed."
Tessa smiled at her lover, and that smile quickly turned to laughter. Duncan paused, worried for a moment that she was laughing at him for even suggesting such a thing. Truth be told she was indeed laughing at him, but not for that reason.
"You are entirely too predictable, Duncan MacLeod," she said through her laughter.
"Excuse me?" Duncan asked cautiously.
At the look on his face Tessa forced an end to her laughing fit. She couldn't stop from smiling though as she regained her composure. "I knew you were going to ask that," she answered. "I've already taken the liberty of preparing the guest room."
"Oh, sweetheart…"
Dinner was finished quickly after that and cleanup was left for another time. These two had more important things to do right now.
The next afternoon they returned to the hospital with a sizeable slice of chocolate cake. Duncan reluctantly agreed to let Tessa go see Richie alone while he went searching for the doctor.
"Good afternoon," she said brightly when she entered the room. Richie had been watching something on the television, but it was in black and white and the reception was poor.
"Ms. Noel?" Richie was definitely surprised to see her.
"That's my mother's name," she said dismissively as she made her way to the dinner tray. She deposited the cake on the tray and swung it in front of Richie. "Please, call me Tessa."
"If you say so Ms.—Tessa." Richie stuttered, scooting up in bed when the tray appeared before him. "What's this?"
"I figured you were getting tired of crackers and jell-o," Tessa explained as she popped the lid off the Tupperware container. Inside Richie saw a large piece of chocolate cake, complete with chocolate icing, a fork, and some napkins.
"Chocolate cake!" He exclaimed, eyes wide, as though it would disappear with a poof at any moment. He grabbed the fork and was about to dive in, but stopped suddenly and regarded Tessa with a confused suspicion. "What's this for?"
"Well I'm not sure but I think you're supposed to eat it," said Tessa with a smile.
"I know what to do with cake," Richie replied, a biting tone in his sarcasm. "Why'd you bring me some?"
Tessa sighed, trying to find the courage to do what she came there to do.
"Richie," she began, but then paused again. "Richie, I'm sorry about the coins."
"Sorry?"
"I had something else on my mind and I forgot that you were injured. I didn't mean for this to happen."
Richie blinked a few times, as though trying to force the pained expression on Tessa's face to magically change.
"So you came here to bribe me with cake?" Richie offered. Bribes he knew.
"I didn't know what else to do," she admitted. "I figured you'd listen to me if I brought you a peace offering first."
Richie just stared at her, not knowing what to make of the situation. Because she had forgotten his previous injury she had accidentally re-injured him. This didn't bother him, people forgot about him and his needs or conditions all the time, he was used to it. Sometimes they would apologize and try and make up for what they'd done, that too he was used to. Yet none of them ever looked at him so expectantly, the way this Noel woman was looking at him now. It was as though she actually needed him to forgive her, and in fact was waiting on it. She actually seemed to care about what happened, actually seemed sorry for it, but more than that she was waiting to see if he forgave her for it. Since when did his thoughts, feelings, and opinions matter so much to someone? And she was his employer no less! The whole thing just confused Richie. All he could do was shake his head slightly and half shrug.
"What's to forgive?" He asked softly, not making eye contact.
"What do you mean, what's to forgive?" Tessa asked incredulously. "How about landing you in the hospital again?"
Richie was thrown. He hadn't expected an answer. Actually, he had expected her to just say 'good' and leave him to his cake. That's what everyone else has done. Now he was forced to answer her question, the whole situation making him feel more and more uncomfortable.
"Look, lady," he said, sounding more annoyed than he felt.
"Tessa," she corrected.
"Look, Tessa," he amended, the annoyance in his voice now matching his feelings. "I have an infection, that's what all these tubes in my arm are for," he said, waving the IV-ed hand in her direction. "Sure what you did hurt like hell and got my ass sent back here, but apparently I'm told that if the infection had spread any further it probably would have killed me. I get that you're sorry and are trying to buy my forgiveness with chocolate cake, but really, there's nothing to forgive." Richie held her eye contact defiantly and was startled when she was the one who broke first. She wasn't trying to stare him down, another thing he had miscalculated.
Tessa blinked a few times, stung, and averted her eyes. Was I trying to buy his forgiveness? She didn't like the sound of that, especially since he might be right. However, it wasn't the biting, negatively spun truth that hurt her; it was the tired, annoyed distain in Richie's voice. He saw right through her and took everything laid before him and threw it all back in her face. What had she expected anyway? A few kind and apologetic words and a slice of cake and all would be well between them? That must have been what everyone else expected.
"Get some rest," she said quietly as she left the room, not daring to look him in the eye. Richie's victory was total and complete, and that left him all the more confused.
Richie had the sinking suspicion that he just leveled the only person who had attempted to be sincere with him. Now he felt himself concerned with the repercussions of what just transpired. His intentions were to let it be known that he knew exactly her intentions, but apparently he grievously misjudged. To a sincere person his words would have sounded cruel, and Richie Ryan was never deliberately cruel. Sure his tongue would get him into trouble with people, but it was always automatic and in self-defense. Right now he wasn't defending, he was attacking Tessa and her motives. Unfortunately, it appeared that the attack was unwarranted and now he felt guilty about it.
Tessa, meanwhile, had run into Duncan in the hallway.
"The doctor says he's already put in Richie's discharge paperwork," he said with a grin. Then he noticed Tessa's expression. "What?"
"Oh Duncan, le pauvre enfant!" Tessa exclaimed, on the verge of tears.
Duncan put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "What is it? What happened?"
"So much anger, so much… pain," she said, shaking her head. "Duncan, what kind of life has that boy lead? Everyone's against him, everyone's out to get him. He sees condescendence and subterfuge in everyone he meets!"
"Shhh, sweetheart," Duncan soothed, drawing her into an embrace.
"Duncan, he's just a boy. How can one so young be so—"
"Jaded?"
Tessa nodded. "Cynical, sarcastic, negative, jaded—take your pick Duncan. How his life must have been if this is the way he sees the world!"
"I know, Tess," Duncan agreed, holding her tight.
Eventually she pushed back to regard him eye to eye. "What do we do about it?" She asked with quiet sincerity.
Duncan smiled. "Well, for right now we get him out of the hospital and back to the loft."
Tessa nodded. "You go on. Somehow I think he won't want to see me."
"Tessa—"
"No, you go Duncan. I'll wait in the car."
Duncan sighed heavily and then nodded. He still remembered his earlier argument with Richie and didn't relish having to convince him to move in with them right after he apparently had another argument with Tessa.
"Fine," he agreed at last. "Actually, why don't you go get this filled?" He suggested, handing her Richie's prescription. She took it from him and read it over, then nodded.
"The pharmacy's not far from here, I'll walk," she said, pocketing the script. "I can get a cab home from there."
Duncan nodded. "Do you have enough cash?"
"I have the checkbook."
"Ok." They kissed briefly, then Tessa made her way back towards the elevator.
Duncan steeled himself for another encounter with Richie and headed in the direction of his room.
Back in his room, Richie's thoughts turned from guilt over what just transpired to worry about the consequences. Tessa probably ran and told MacLeod what had just happened. She probably told him all sorts of unpleasant things about the way he had mouthed off to her, and if that was the case he could most likely kiss his new job goodbye. He liked his job, and he and MacLeod seemed to be getting along alright (aside from what transpired the day before, which he had nearly forgotten about in light of this latest development). That's a strike against him from both of his employers. It did not bode well.
"Are you going to eat that?" Richie looked up, startled, to find that MacLeod had once again taken residence in the bedside chair. He had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he hadn't heard the Highlander enter.
"What?" Richie asked, confused.
"Well you seem to be staring intently into your chocolate cake. I was just wondering if you were planning on eating it."
Richie blushed and shied away, not knowing what was expected of him to do.
"Would be a shame to waste it, it's quite good," Duncan continued. "Unless of course you're allergic to chocolate."
"No-no, I can eat it," Richie stammered at last. As if to prove his point he sunk the plastic fork into the moist, dark chocolate. Tentatively he took a bite, half-expecting it to be poisoned or something like that. He was genuinely and pleasantly surprised at how good it tasted.
"Good cake," he said once he had managed to swallow it.
Once again Duncan stood and fetched the teen a glass of water.
"This is familiar," Richie announced, taking the plastic cup from Duncan.
"Yeah," he agreed. "You don't seem to like getting your own water."
They both laughed slightly and Richie continued to eat the cake. He polished it off in barely a few minutes with generous help from several glasses of water. Neither of them spoke during this time, Duncan content to just watch the teen enjoy the cake, and Richie too afraid to try for conversation. Only when the teen had finished the cake did Duncan decide to break the silence.
"The doctors say you should be sprung any minute now."
"So they tell me," Richie answered, his voice neutral.
"They've given you a prescription for penicillin," Duncan continued.
Richie's expression suddenly paled.
"It's in pill form," the Highlander quickly added, and the teen visibly relaxed.
"That doesn't sound so bad," he ventured.
"You have to take it with lots of water on an empty stomach. Then you can't eat anything for an hour or so afterwards. You probably won't want to though, chances are they'll make you sick for a while," Duncan explained.
"Sounds like fun," Richie answered blithely.
Duncan wasn't fooled. "You have to take them this time, or else you'll just wind up straight back here again."
"So I've been told," Richie said dismissively.
"This is serious Richie," said Duncan weightily. "Each time you stop medicating it the infection returns stronger than before because only the more resistant bacteria are left to reproduce and spread through your system. You were lucky once, next time, if you survive, you'll probably wind up in the ICU again with more permanent damage."
Richie just hung his head, avoiding eye contact. He was ashamed to have to remind MacLeod that he couldn't possibly afford the prescription, but it looked like he'd be forced to do just that. Contrary to all evidence displayed thus far, Richie really did not want to die, and Duncan's speech scared him that he might.
"Unless the insurance fairy visited me during the night and left a big fat policy under my pillow, there's still no way I can afford the pills," he said at last, sarcasm trying unsuccessfully to mask the shame.
"I've already sent Tessa to the pharmacy," Duncan informed him gently. "You don't have to worry about that."
Richie's eyes widened in surprise. "You really shouldn't have done that, MacLeod," he said softly. He reminded Duncan of a boy much younger than eighteen.
"You need the medicine," Duncan countered, keeping his voice soft and even. "Can you think of another way you could have gotten it?"
Richie was silent. He didn't have an answer to that.
"I guess you can just add that to my bill," he said at very long last. "Along with the window, the alarm, and the hospital bills." The sad, detached tone in Richie's voice would have melted the hardest of hearts, so Duncan didn't stand a chance.
"We'll talk about it later," he said, straining to keep his emotions from showing in his voice. "After you've recovered."
Richie just nodded silently. He hadn't looked at his employer since Duncan's speech about the penicillin. He hated feeling beholden to anyone, and he was tethered in debt to this man MacLeod for even more than he owed Romeo. Richie Ryan was drowning in red ink and didn't see any possible ways out of it.
Somehow Duncan must have sensed what was on Richie's mind.
"That reminds me," he said lightly. "I have your first paycheck ready."
That statement got Richie's attention. He turned bright eyes on the highlander.
"You worked thirty-three hours at eight dollars an hour, and since I'm paying you under the table that means you made 264 dollars."
Richie tried to follow the math in his head but lost track somewhere along the line so he just looked back at MacLeod and smiled.
"The window cost 120 to replace, so that means you get to keep 144 dollars of your paycheck."
Richie's smile grew brighter at that statement. Indeed, his entire mood was lifted. If he took thirty out of that for food and laundry (he needed to give MacLeod his clothes back anyway) then he still made 124 dollars that he could set aside for rent. That meant a hundred went into the rent fund and twenty-four went into the 'buy off Romeo' fund. Two more weeks' work and he could pay off his rent in full for the month and then direct the rest of his earnings towards the Romeo. Perhaps things were as bad as they seemed? Richie just needed to get back on his feet and back to work as soon as possible.
"I thought that would cheer you up," said Duncan with a smile.
"How much did the alarm cost?" Richie asked, sobering slightly but not completely.
"I said we'd worry about that later," Duncan answered.
Richie was forced to accept this, and allowed silence to return.
To Duncan it appeared that Richie was in slightly better spirits. He knew better than to assume that anything was resolved, however. Still, he knew that he needed to convince Richie to agree to move into the loft where he and Tessa could keep an eye on him and make sure his infection cleared up and the wound healed properly.
Unfortunately, the Highlander was at a loss for how to proceed.
"I'm sorry." Duncan's thoughts were interrupted by Richie's sudden apology.
The teenager had gone back to absently playing with the blanket.
"For what?"
"I've caused you a lot of trouble."
Duncan bit back his immediate response and thought more carefully. "Yes," he admitted truthfully. "But you've also saved us lots of trouble by helping out in the store."
Richie turned to face him, but still didn't make eye contact. Logically what Duncan said made sense, but logic wasn't something Richie was well versed in at times like these.
"If you give me the chance, I'll pay back what I owe you," Richie said cautiously. "All of it."
"I don't doubt that," Duncan acknowledged. He sighed silently; it was now or never. "I really hope this doesn't become a habit, though."
"Yeah, me neither," Richie agreed. "I hate hospitals."
"The best thing you can do is take it easy for a while and let your body heal."
"Oh believe me, I intend to."
While Duncan didn't doubt that Richie meant what he said, he had some doubts as to his definition of 'taking it easy.'
"I mean, you've proven yourself to be a valuable asset to the store. I can't have my best employee laid up all the time because he doesn't follow doctor's orders."
Richie's expression changed again. Did MacLeod just say 'asset' and 'best employee' when referring to him? That can't be right, can it?
"Hey, I won't let you down MacLeod. Just give me those pills and a few days off and I'll be good as new," Richie said with a grin, spurred on by what he perceived to be Duncan's off-hand comment.
"Oh, I don't doubt that," Duncan agreed, returning the grin.
Richie could hardly believe his ears. Unfortunately, that which seems too good to be true usually is, and all of Richie's defenses snapped into place as soon as Duncan's expression changed. "There's one slight complication, however," Duncan continued said seriously.
"And what's that?" Richie asked, the defiance returning to his voice, barely concealed by caution.
"I'm afraid your lifestyle isn't exactly conducive to taking it easy."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Richie asked defensively.
"It means that when the doctors say 'take it easy for a while' they mean lots of bed rest, plenty of good food, fluids, and absolutely no extraneous expenditure of energy. Quite frankly Richie, I don't see you as being capable of complying in that tiny second floor apartment of yours."
Richie opened his mouth as if to protest, but no words formed. He hated to admit it but MacLeod was right. He needed to go shopping, do laundry, clean, patch the ceiling in the kitchen from when the roof leaked—the list seemed endless, and he couldn't go home and ignore what needed to be done. He also hated MacLeod for seeing that about him and his living situation.
"I'm quite capable of taking it easy, thank you," he said sarcastically instead.
"Sure you are," Duncan returned matter-of-factly.
"Just give me some pills, a pillow, and the remote control and I'll write the book on taking it easy."
"Sure you will."
"Damn straight."
"From the loft."
Richie's constant flow of sarcastic remarks was suddenly violently derailed. Did he just say what I think he said?
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Duncan held his breath, prepared to hold his ground. Richie wasn't leaving the hospital unless it was to the loft.
"Yeah I heard you, but, what do you mean?" Richie asked, frightened, excited, disbelieving, and hopeful all at once, but mostly just confused. Why would the man open his home to me? I'm just the employee, and a thief.
"I mean I've got too much invested in you to leave you to your own devices," Duncan explained. He hoped that explaining his concern to Richie on this level would get though to the teen. "When you're discharged you'll be staying at the loft until with us you're back on your feet again."
"You want me to stay with you guys?" Richie asked for clarification.
"Just 'til you're over your infection. Then you can move back into your apartment."
"But, why?"
Duncan could tell that there was a lot more tagged to that simple question than simply the face value of it. However, now was not the time nor place to discuss such things. Hopefully, as Richie got to know Duncan better, and therefore grew to trust him more, he'd be able to answer his own questions about why.
"Because I'm tired of rushing you to the hospital. Its time consuming and expensive, and I don't want your luck to run out. You can worry about paying me back or whatever else you feel is necessary some other time. Right now, as your employer, I want to make sure you get better. You do excellent work in the store but you're talents are being wasted while you're flat on your back. I want you on your feet again as soon as possible, and the best way to ensure that is to keep an eye on you myself."
Duncan felt physically ill saying those words. He sounded cold, unfeeling, and completely separate from himself and his true meanings. However, such steps were necessary. Richie's health had to come first. Hopefully living under the same roof for a while will let Richie see that he truly cares about him and on a level greater than the exploitation of an employee. Once back in the loft Duncan could worry about cultivating the type of relationship he wants with the boy. Right now, he just had to make sure that he got him there.
"What does Tessa think?" Richie asked at length, trying to keep his voice neutral. Everything MacLeod said had made sense. Richie kept screwing up and MacLeod was justified in tiring of it. Actually, Richie had to give him props for lasting this long before voicing his annoyance, considering the headache he's been to the man. Now MacLeod was tired of picking up the pieces of Richie's too many mistakes and wanted to ensure that nothing else happened before he was able to pay back his debts. Richie could understand that. In fact, he was secretly grateful for it. No one else would bother to take the time to ensure that he followed the doctor's orders. Everyone else would have either left him to die the first time, abandoned him after saving his life, let him suffer through the raging infection, or fired him, or not cared about what happened upon his release from the hospital this time around. MacLeod kept defying conventions by caring so much about his welfare. Even if the concern was based on purely business reasons, it was concern nonetheless, and Richie had never had someone so constantly concerned with him in his entire life. He was simultaneously delighted, suspicious, and frightened by the prospect.
"I've talked it over with her and she agrees with me," Duncan answered.
Richie nodded. "You're sure that this is for the best?" He asked weakly.
"We're sure," Duncan answered seriously.
Richie just nodded again. "Ok," he said. His voice was quiet and his tone was warring between forced neutrality and sagging defeat, but that didn't matter. Richie had just agreed. Duncan couldn't keep himself from smiling.
"I'm going to see if I can find the doctor and speed things up a bit," he said, standing and heading towards the door. "Don't go anywhere."
Richie half smiled and bobbed his head in an awkward nod at Duncan's comment as the Highlander left the room.
Walking down the hallway Duncan could have skipped and jumped for joy. Richie was moving in with them, at least temporarily. He would be able to build their relationship into friendship, moving beyond simply one of business. Richie could make amends with Tessa, too, and a unified front was the most preferable. Richie far from trusted them yet (and Duncan suspected that the teen had more layers and levels of trust than most immortals do), but he could work on that. He was just given the golden opportunity to. Now all he needed to do was find that doctor.