The water was cold. Much colder than Richie had imagined. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, feeling the water wash past them, as Duncan propelled them both through the narrow tunnel. His chest ached, with the effort not to breath, with cold, .. and fear.

And then it was over.

Breaking through the surface of the water, he took great, gasping breaths, that had as much to do with the release of his terror, as his body's need for oxygen.

"Oh mi God, oh mi God.." he managed.

"Easy Rich, slow it down, take deep breaths." Duncan's voice coached in his ear.

With an effort Richie complied, gradually bringing his panic under control.

"That's the way," Duncan praised. "Nice deep breaths."

"That was a minute?" Richie coughed.

"You did fine Rich, just fine." Duncan soothed.

Richie opened his eyes to find himself in utter blackness

"Whoa!" he splashed, wildly.

"Richie!" Duncan's hand tightened, around his chin, keeping his face clear of the water. "Calm down! You'll hurt yourself."

Sacrificing buoyancy for the moment, he pulled Richie back into his chest and wrapped his arms, around him, hugging him as best he could whilst treading water. Richie, wrapped his own arms around him, holding onto him for dear life a life buoy.

"Alright, alright, I'm calm, I'm calm." Richie repeated, like a mantra.

"You don't sound it." Duncan couldn't help himself.

"I tried drowning once before," Richie coughed. "Didn't like it much."

"What?" Duncan managed.

"Um. Nothing," Richie hastily changed the subject. "Fun as this is Mac, what do you say we get out of here ..?"

"Alright," Duncan really didn't want to keep Richie in this cold water any longer than was absolutely necessary. "This next one is a little bit longer."

"Longer!" Richie's voice went up a whole octave. "How much longer?"

"Not too much," Duncan assured him. "Just take a nice, deep, breathe and hold it, OK?"

"Deep breath," Richie shifted slightly against his chest as he nodded. "Got it."

***

This time the cold did not seem so bad. Or maybe, it was just because he couldn't feel very much anymore. But it was hard, holding his breath. His chest started to burn. He tried counting .. one hippopotamus, two hippopotamus .. Please let it be over soon .. Please let it be over ..

And, at last, it was. And he was sucking in the damp, musty air, in desperate mouthfuls.

"Alright Richie," he could feel the Immortal's strong arm, wrapped around his chest, supporting him. "Just like before. Nice, slow breaths."

"Hurts .." Richie managed. His chest felt like it was about to explode.

"I know, Tough Guy," Duncan's voice soothed. "Just give it a minute. It'll pass."

Richie swallowed hard. He didn't know how Mac managed it. It seemed that even in the middle of the most dangerous situations, the Immortal always managed to sound calm and unruffled. He'd always figured it had something to do with knowing that he couldn't really die.

But here he was, knowing just that, and he was still scared stupid.

He wondered if it was the sort of thing that got easier with practice.

"There's just this next one .." Duncan was talking to him.

"Another?"

He no longer cared if the Immortal could hear the fear in his voice. The mere thought of going back under that black, icy cold, water, terrified him.

"Last one," Duncan assured him. "Then we're home free. All the way to the beach."

"A beach, huh?" Richie managed, struggling manfully to keep his tone even. "You gonna buy me a ice-cream, huh?"

"An ice-cream?" he could hear the surprise in the Immortal's voice.

"N never m mind ..." Richie's teeth chattered. He probably looked like a popsicle. He'd be lucky to get anything but tea, soup and gruel for the next few days.

But the soft, warm, breath of the Immortal, on his ear surprised him.

"I'll buy you the biggest ice-cream you've ever seen in your life, my brave, bonnie, lad."

***

The last one was the worst. By far the longest, Richie could feel his pulse beating in his ears. His chest was tight with pain. His limbs were cold and stiff, no longer seeming a part of his own body. Soon it would be over. Soon. Soon. Soon.

But this time, it wasn't.

The pressure in his chest grew, Richie wanted to cry, to scream, to breath. But he dared not. The harsh grazing of his numb arms and legs along the wall of the tunnels made him want to kick and twist in terror. But he could not.

He needed to breathe.

The ringing in his eyes made him feel like his head was going to explode. He clenched his jaw tight, but instinct overrode intellect. He opened his mouth and cold, foul, water, seeped in, filling his mouth, his throat, his lungs ... and spots started to appear in front of his eyes.

"Dear God, no .." Mac's voice sounded close to panic.

Richie's face, was turned, none too gently, to one side, his cheek, pressed hard into soft, scratchy, sand. He wondered, distractedly, when they had got out of the water.

"C'mon Richie. Breathe!" Mac's voice was pure command.

Richie coughed hard, and spat foul smelling water from his mouth, wheezing in a deep breath, and coughing again. Dimly he was aware, of the Immortal's arm helping him to sit up and gently pushing him forward, to help clear his lungs. Totally spent, he sagged against the Immortal's chest.

"Richie? Are you alrite lad?"

The worry in the Immortal's tone was oddly comforting.

Then he shifted slightly and Richie heard the soft hiss of the Katana being drawn from the scabbard slung across the Immortal's back.

"Its just me," A slightly peeved voice declared. "How's the boy? And why are you so wet?"

"Long story, did you deal with Walker?"

"Long story." The other voice sounded apologetic.

"What?" Mac growled, dangerously.

"Can we talk about this somewhere warm and dry?" the other voice suggested.

"No." Mac said flatly.

"Oh, alright. I …. Is he supposed to be that strange blue colour?" the other voice deflected neatly.

"I drown'd," Richie slurred.

Beneath him Mac shifted slightly and Richie realised he was being picked up and carried.

It felt kinda nice.

"You're alright now," Mac's voice assured him. "Did you at least bring the car?"

"This way," the man's voice started to move away.

"Not now," he frowned in concentration, needing to get this right "B'fore."

 "You'd drowned before, I think I would have noticed my lad." Mac said wryly.

 "The cops chasin us." Richie screwed up his face as he struggled to remember.

"Its alright, Richie," Mac's voice soothed. "There's no one chasing us."

"Yeah," Richie insisted. "Going too fast. R r r ight off the pier." He made zooming noises, then gulped and looked up at Mac with large, unfocused eyes. "Can't swim."

"I know you can't swim, Tough Guy." Mac's tone was patient. "But you .."

"Nuh uh. The car couldn't swim. It sank .." Richie gave a slightly hysterical giggle. " .. it was all dark and cold, Mac? How do fish see in the dark?".

 "The car couldn't swim?" the other voice asked.

"He's had a long week." Mac sounded resigned.

A thought occurred to Richie.

"Would I still be fifteen? Like for ever and ever?"

"Dammit Adam, will you watch where you are going?" Richie was jolted slightly as Mac stopped abruptly. "I almost ran into you."

"You told him?" the tone was cold as ice.

"No, of course not ..I wouldna .." Mac's voice rose as he defended himself.

"Well, someone clearly has." The voice was clipped and angry.

Richie knew that tone. Someone was going to get hurt. He tried to burrow into the Immortal's chest. If there was going to be yelling, he wanted to be as close to the Immortal as possible.

Mac wouldn't hit him.

Mac wouldn't let anyone else hit him either.

"Easy Richie," Mac's voice was kind. "No one's shouting at you."

"Oh, bloody hell. Sorry Macleod."

"For accusing me or scaring Richie?" Mac asked in that conversational tone, that Richie recognised as really pissed off.

"You're not going to like it ." the man said uncomfortably.

"In case you hadn't notice .." Mac said sarcastically. "I'm already not liking it."

"When Richie was fifteen, he and two so-called friends went joyriding along the boardwalk. The Police report says the car suddenly lost control, although I don't expect being chased at high speeds helped matters much. The car went off the pier. The friends got out. Richie didn't. The rescue services had to go in after him. They did CPR at the scene."

"He stopped breathing?" Mac sounded shocked.

"Which would have made him fifteen, for ever and ever. Or at least until he lost his head." The man's voice sounded pragmatic.

"Oh hell," Mac breathed in sudden realisation. "That's what he was talking about before .. I thought .. damn Walker. He had no right .."

"I take it the boy's not too pleased with you?"

"That would be putting it mildly." Mac sounded rueful. "It took me long enough to win his trust. What on earth do I do now?" he wondered aloud.

"Don't tell him you know," the man suggested. "At least, until he's strong enough to talk it through properly."

"He's damp, not deaf." Mac pointed out. "And he's right here."

"The state he's in?" the man sounded amused, as Richie heard the familiar sound of the T-Bird door opening. "He won't remember anything much past that knock on the head that Walker gave him."

"Is that your professional medical opinion?" Mac scoffed.

"Yes," the man sounded smug. "Actually, it is."