AN – Thanks to everyone who has ever reviewed, e-mailed, enquired, begged and pleaded, about the continuation of this story especially RRyanForever, Jodi, and Trecia for making sure I kept thinking about it! (See, feedback really does work!) Especial thanks go the inventors of instant messaging and Southern Chickie for providing the prompting, ideas and inspiration that finally got me back into it. I'm sorry it took so long, but I didn't want to post until I was sure how it would pan out. There will be three more chapters after this. Hope you enjoy ..
***
"Are you sure about this?" Duncan demanded, as he gently lifted Richie's battered body from the car.
"You've not that naïve Macleod," Adam got out of the other side and came around to lead the way down the gang plank to the barge. "You must have some idea of what kind of injuries we'll find. Do you really what to spend the next few months trying to explain those away to the authorities? Its not like his condition is life threatening."
"How can you know that?"
"Because I'm a Doctor," Adam answered with exaggerated patience. "And in my experience, if a patient is well enough to be up and about, and doing battle, then there's nothing dangerously wrong with him. He'll be stiff and sore, and dammed uncomfortable for the next few days, but that's all."
"He lost consciousness." Duncan insisted stubbornly. "That's always dangerous."
"So, we check for signs of concussion." Adam agreed.
"You told me to take him to a Hospital." Duncan reminded him.
"Yes. I know," Adam's patience was wearing thin. "But that was before I decided to help."
In truth, he hadn't anticipated that Walker would still be a very real and present danger. Not so much a loose end as a loose cannon. The type of Immortal that was dangerous to all.
"Do you even know what you are doing?" Duncan interrupted his thoughts.
"In helping you?" Adam shook his head. "No, I probably need my head examined. You are infamous at the Watcher Academy for attracting an almost weekly quota of evil Immortals. Whereas, other people can go centuries without a challenge."
"I meant, as a Doctor. He's too young to join the Game."
"Oh, I don't know," Adam smirked, "He's a dab hand with a metal pole already. You must be very proud."
Duncan decided to ignore that and concentrate on not jostling Richie's battered body as he transferred him onto the barge.
"Damn," he stopped short, at the front door, looking at the unconscious teenager in his arms, "My keys are in my front jeans pocket."
"Here, let me." Adam offered.
Instinctively Duncan took a step back at the thought of the virtual stranger rummaging around .. down there.
"Sorry, Macleod, you're not my type." Adam smirked. With a skill that put him easily in the same league as Amanda, the dark haired Immortal picked the lock.
"Are there no end to your talents?" Duncan raised a brow.
"Would you rather stand out here in the cold?" Adam made his way inside.
"Come in why don't you?" Duncan muttered to empty air. "Make yourself at home. Mi casa est su casa."
"Do you have any beer?" a voice drifted back.
***
Duncan struggled to keep his temper as he carefully pulled the covers up and tucked them securely around Richie's sleeping form. Reaching out to stroke the still slightly damp blonde curls, he felt another surge of anger at Walker.
"Its not as bad as it looks." Adam's voice came from behind him.
"He cut his hair." Duncan managed fiercely. "Like he was some damn drill sergeant and Richie a recruit at his own personal military school."
"Its just hair. It'll grow back."
Duncan straightened and turned the full force of his fury on the other man.
"And the skin off his back? That'll grow back too, I suppose?"
"Yes," Adam countered, without flinching. "He's strong Highlander. He'll survive this. He's survived worse."
Duncan sighed. He knew that was true.
"And now he has you to help him." Adam added more gently.
The trouble was, looking at the pale, still, form, Duncan felt painfully unequal to the task. They had got Richie in and out of the bath while he was still out of it, but the task of cleaning and dressing his wounds had stirred him to consciousness, struggling weakly against the hands that held him, with soft cries of pain. It has taken a double dose of Darius' special tea to ease him back into sleep.
"I'm going to call Tessa." Duncan decided.
"Do you think that's such a good idea?"
"She'd want to be here."
"Walker's still out there somewhere and he won't hesitate to use Tessa to get the boy. Do you want to make that choice?"
"But .. Richie needs her." Duncan protested more weakly.
"What Richie needs right now is your undivided attention. How do you think Tessa is going to react, when she finds out Richie is gong to be Immortal one day?"
"How do you know I haven't already told her?"
"Have you?"
"No." Duncan admitted.
"I rest my case. Richie's physical injuries will heal soon enough, but his emotional state is a different matter. He's had a difficult week and he's made a fairly earth shattering discovery. You'll need to be patient with him, he might be tearful and clingy one minute and pushing you away the next."
"He's tried pushing me away before," Duncan recalled fondly. "Time he learnt I'm not going anywhere."
***
The first thing Richie was aware of was the scent the of clean, fresh, sheets. He murmured contentedly and
snuggled a little deeper into the bedding, sending a firebrand of pain shooting
across his back.
"Argh!"
His eyes snapped open and he shot upright in bed, causing him to hiss sharply and immediately screw his eyes tight shut as a dozen other pains woke up and made themselves known.
"Easy Rich,"
Warm, gentle hands, grasped his shoulders and eased him back down onto soft pillows, one hand slipped up to support his head, and a warm cup was pressed to his lips.
"Here, drink this, it'll help the pain."
Richie had little choice but to swallow the honey sweet liquid that washed its way around his teeth. It was kinda nice.
"Alright," the mug was removed. "Can you open your eyes for me?"
"Hurts."
"Your eyes hurt?" the voice sounded concerned.
"No, it hurts." Richie managed.
"Aye lad, it will." the voice sounded tired and angry. Richie tried to make himself as small as possible. He didn't want to get smacked again.
"Richie, its me, Mac. You're safe. No one is going to smack you."
Had he said that out loud?
"C'mon Tough Guy. Open your eyes for me? Please?"
Something deep inside Richie responded to the unaccustomed note of pleading in the Immortal's voice. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked cautiously around the small, wooden, cabin.
"Walker's not here, Rich," Duncan assured him. "You're home. You're safe."
"Safe?" Richie needed to be sure.
"Aye lad," a strong hand stroked his hair gently. "You still pretty tired, huh?"
"Mmm."
"Go back to sleep, I'll keep watch."
"May I?" Richie asked wistfully. "I'm really sleepy. I'll do my chores in the morning. Honest."
"Shhh. Don't fret yourself. Rest now."
"Kay. Night."
"Sleep well, my bonnie lad."
***
"You aren't going to make him wake up any faster by staring at him." Adam
observed from the door way.
"Its been almost two days," Duncan protested. "He's done nothing but sleep."
"That's not true," Adam corrected. "He's eaten a few bowls of broth and staggered to the bathroom and back, once or twice he's even managed to hold at least half a conversation, before he falls asleep again."
"He still hasn't told me what happened."
"He needs to rest. He doesn't need the Spanish Inquisition. He'll tell you when he's ready."
"But I need to know," Duncan protested, trying to keep his voice even. "For two days now, he's been nothing but yes sir and no sir. He doesn't speak unless he's spoken to. He does exactly what I tell him, when I tell him, without question. He's not even mentioned the fact that Walker told him he was pre-immortal and yesterday, when he knocked his shoulder on the doorframe, it must have hurt like hell and he said shoot."
"I take it he's usually a little more colourful?" Adam raised a brow.
"Its like living with .." Duncan broke off as Richie stirred. "Rich? Are you awake?"
Blue eyes opened to regard him steadily.
"Hey," Duncan smoothed his hair. "Can I get you anything?"
"Please may I have a drink of water?" Richie asked politely.
"Sure," Duncan reached over for the glass and helped him to drink. "How are you feeling?"
He held his breath, hoping for some typical smart mouthed Richie answer.
"Better. Thank you, for taking such good care of me." Richie assured him meekly.
"You feel ready for some real food yet?" Duncan encouraged. "How about a nice roast beef sandwich?"
Richie agreed, but he only managed to nibble at one quarter before casting worried looks at the Immortal.
"Its alright, Rich," Duncan sighed. "You don't have to finish it, if you don't want to."
***
"How is he?" The worry in Tessa's voice came clearly down the phone line. "Its been almost a week now."
"The physical wounds are healing," Duncan sighed, stood on the deck of the barge, looking out over the Seine. "He was well enough to rest on the couch for a few hours today."
"But he is still not himself?" Tessa surmised.
"Not even close," Duncan shook his head, even though Tessa couldn't see him. "Although, I suppose there has been some improvement." Duncan allowed himself a small smile. The healing wounds had been itchy and stiff, and the resulting discomfort had caused the teen to feel tetchy and irritable. The Immortal's steady presence, coupled with the comfort of familiar surroundings, had encouraged the odd spark, of the old Richie to surface. "He's being stubborn, again." He told Tessa with satisfaction.
She laughed, grateful for the small amusement. "I did not think I would ever see the day when you would say this was a good thing."
"No," Duncan agreed. "I should go, its time for his nap."
"Duncan!" Tessa laughed.
"Miss you, sweetheart."
"I miss you too, mon amour, " Tessa replied. "Give my love to Richie, too, will you?" she added a little sadly.
"I will," Duncan assured her.
Hanging up, he went in search of the teenager, who had again retreated to his room, curling up on his bed, with some of the motorcycle magazines Duncan had bought him.
"Hey, Tough Guy, Tessa sends her love."
Richie nodded, but didn't reply.
"Are you sure that you don't want to speak with her?" Duncan suggested, folding his arms. "She'd love to hear from you."
"Maybe, .. tomorrow." Richie hedged, as he had every day so far.
"Rich," Duncan sat down on the bed. Richie's colour was a lot better, and he looked far more alert. It was time to get a little more serious. "You know, you're going to have to talk about what happened sooner or later?"
"Why?" Richie asked quietly.
"Because you need to."
"No, I don't." Richie shook his head. "Walker is dead. Its over."
Duncan felt like he had been kicked in the gut. Of course, the lad would assume that Walker was safely dead.
"He is dead, you took his head, right?" Richie looked up.
Duncan swallowed hard, unwilling to admit the truth to Richie, or himself.
"Mac?" Richie's voice took on an edge of panic. "Please, tell me he's dead."
"I'm sorry, Rich," Duncan managed hoarsely, as all the colour drained from Richie's face. "Walker's still alive."