AN – Thank you all much for the emails and the reviews. Thanks especially to Southern Chickie for keeping me going when Richie was being very stubborn. This was not an easy chapter to write. I hope that I've resolved the issue to most peoples satisfaction. I'd love to know what you think. After this, offing Walker will be easy.
***
"Mac?" Richie pulled away from him and sat up, so he could look him in the eye. "Is it true? Am I going to be like you?"
Duncan closed his eyes. It would be so easily to lie to him. To tell him that it was just a ploy by Walker to turn them against each other. They could go on just as they were. Richie would believe him. He trusted him.
He wanted to, Lord how he wanted to.
"Not yet," He swallowed hard and opened his eyes. "But you will be .. one day."
Richie pressed his lips together tightly, and looked away, but not before Duncan had seen the glint of tears in his eyes. "Is that why you took me in?" he asked tightly.
"If it was, you'd have at least two sisters, right now." Duncan gave an awkward shrug.
"You know other people like me?" A touch of surprise.
"Rich, I don't know anyone else like you, but in four hundred years, I've met a lot of pre-immortals. I've never taken them into my home, into my heart, as I have you."
"So, where are they?" Richie asked flatly.
Duncan winced. This wasn't going well.
"I can't tell you that .."
Richie's head snapped around, his face tight with hurt and anger.
"I told you things .. things I've never told anyone, about school, my foster homes, juvie .. and all that time you were laughing at me .."
"Richie, I would never, .."
"But you did. You let me believe that you trusted me .. "
"I do trust you."
"Yeah, just not enough to tell me about my own life!"
"Its what we do .." Duncan shrugged helplessly.
"That's your answer?" Richie looked at him incredulously, his voice rising. "Its what we do? You know, something, Macleod, you're just like every social worker I ever had. Its procedure. Its how things work. Its for your own good .."
"Richie, You're not listening to me!"
"Damn right, I'm not listening to you. I wish I'd never even met you," Richie turned his back on the Immortal. "Leave me alone!"
***
The Immortal presently masquerading as Adam Pierson mild mannered Watcher, sighed as he carefully, checked Richie's healing wounds. The kid's back was nicely pink, which meant there would be only minimal scarring. However, the boy's tense, stiff, posture indicated they had other problems.
"So, how long are you planning on punishing him for?" he asked, casually as he carefully pulled the T-shirt back down. "Days? Weeks? Months? Centuries?"
Richie flinched at that last. It was true. He could live for Centuries. So, long as no-one took his head.
God, he was scared.
"I'm not trying to punish him."
"You're not eating, you're not sleeping and you've barely said two words since he told you," He could have added, and even a blind man could see you've been crying.
"So, I'm having a bad day," Richie shrugged. "So, sue me."
"You must know by now that what hurts you, hurts Macleod. He's been up on deck for the past two hours, staring into the bottom of a glass of Scotch. If he goes up against Walker like that, he'll loose. Is that that you want?"
"It doesn't matter what I want," Richie retorted, "It never .." he stopped
"Used to?" Adam suggested.
Richie realised that the annoying Immortal was right. What
he wanted mattered a great deal to Mac He knew that. Or, at least he used to.
"He lied to me."
"He's never lied to you," Adam tried to be reasonable. "He just didn't tell you the whole truth."
"Like that line ever works when I use it." Richie scoffed.
"This isn't about sneaking the odd beer or two at some teenage orgy ..."
"I know that!" Richie snapped. "Don't you think I know that? I've seen enough Challenges since I've been hanging around with Mac."
"Then you should be able to see that Macleod was just trying to protest you."
"Protect me? If he wants to protect me, why I am wasting my time learning about Ming Vases? He should put a sword in my hand and teach me to fight!" Richie retorted. "At least, Walker gave Marc that chance."
"Walker was a blind fool," Adam corrected. "Putting a sword in the hands of a pre-immortal, is tantamount to signing his death warrant. When Immortals fight, we fight to the death. Every stroke needs to count, even in practise wounds are common and death is a definite possibility. If you learn to fight as a pre-immortal, you're taught to pull your blade before you inflict harm. Those instincts, once ingrained, are bloody hard to undo. Not to mention that it attracts entirely the wrong sort of attention."
"Mac learnt to fight when he was mortal." Richie said sulkily.
"And then had four centuries to perfect his technique. With the Gathering upon us, you don't have that luxury. You need to get it right, first time."
"That's comforting." Richie gave him a sour look.
"Macleod is an excellent teacher," Adam assured him. "One who will do whatever it takes to ensure you survive .. even if it means you end up hating him."
"I don't hate him." Richie managed softly. "I just .." he struggled to explain his feelings. "I can't die! He knows I can't die. Its like all those times that he worried over me when I was hurt or in danger were such a crock."
"A crock?" Adam raised a brow.
"Yeah, dumb, huh?" Richie looked away. "But it still hurts."
"You die at seventeen, your body hasn't finished growing," Adam told him bluntly. "You'll never have the weight, or the mass, of a fully grown adult. It'll make you smaller and weaker than your opponents, and it'll only be a matter of time before someone takes your head."
"Oh." Richie swallowed hard.
Belatedly, Adam realised. Macleod wouldn't thank him for scaring the kid out of his wits. "Macleod's kept himself alive for four hundred years. I'm sure he can manage to get you past puberty." He smirked.
"Gee, you think?" Richie scowled.
"Why don't you go and talk to him?" Adam suggested.
"I still don't understand, why he didn't just tell me," Richie complained. "Its not like I didn't already know about the Game .. about Immortals."
"Maybe because he was afraid of how you would react?" Adam arched a brow.
"That's not fair," Richie protested. "If he had just told me in the beginning .."
"You would never have believed him."
"Well, OK, maybe not right at the beginning, but he could have told me before now .."
"This isn't a conversation you can have over your Wheaties," Adam scoffed. "And besides, what good would it have done? Made you more reckless than you already are? Convinced you that Macleod was just out for your head? Or robbed you of your last chance at a relatively normal family life?"
"But, I would have known .." Richie insisted, half heartedly.
"And are you better off, now that you do know?" Adam asked, eying the kid's drawn expression sceptically.
Richie gave him a quick, terrified, glance, and looked away.
"Thought not." Adam sighed. "You need to talk to Macleod."
"What makes you think I'm over being mad at him, yet?"
"Because, I'm very old and wise." Adam said loftily.
"Yeah?" Richie perked up. "How old?"
Oh Buggar.
"Older than Macleod." Adam thought that would cover it.
"How much older?"
Or maybe not.
***
"Mac?" Richie hovered uncertainly behind the brooding Immortal. "Is this a good time?"
"Go inside Richie," Duncan told him shortly. "Its too cold for you to be out here."
"You're out here," Richie sat down beside him. "Besides, it can't kill me, right?"
"It can still kill you," Duncan retorted gruffly, shrugging out of his thick leather coat and wrapping it brusquely around the teen's shoulders. "Just not permanently."
Richie bit his lip and tried not to wince as the stiff material scraped across tender new skin. The fervent Gaelic curse from beside him, suggested that he had not been entirely successful in hiding his reaction. The next thing he knew, he felt an icy blast of air on his back as both jacket and shirt was pulled up to check the healing welts.
"Mac, its OK .." he tried to twist around, to look at the Immortal.
"Hold still," Duncan ordered, his hands warm and gentle across Richie's shoulders.
"Mac, I'm fine .." Richie winced as Duncan's fingers probed a particularly sensitive spot. "Or, I would be if you'd stop poking at me. C'mon Mac, I'm freezing to death here."
"What are you doing out here, Richie?" Duncan tucked his clothes back into place.
"I wanted to give you these."
Richie reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small leather rolled bundle.
"Its your lock picks." Duncan realised.
"Actually, it's an apology," Richie confessed. "Sort of."
"Rich .."
"I know you thought, I didn't have them anymore. But .. well I wasn't all that sure that I wouldn't need them again one day. So, I hung onto them, kind of an insurance policy .. in case things didn't work out. Then, I realised that it was gonna work out, but I didn't know how to tell you I still had them, cos then you'd know that I thought maybe it wouldn't."
"You wanted to tell me, but it never seemed like the right time?" Duncan's heart leap with hope as he thought he saw where the lad was going with this.
"Yeah," Richie gave a rueful shrug. "I guess, sometimes, there's never a right time, huh?"
"Rich .." Duncan had to swallow hard. Impressed beyond measure that the teenager could see beyond his own anger, pain and fear to consider the Immortal's position.
"No, hear me out," Richie asked. "All my life I've been surrounded by people who thought they knew what was best for me. They made the decisions, but I had to live with the consequences. They never thought about what I needed. That's not you Mac."
"You had a right to be upset, Richie."
"Did I?" Richie asked softly. "You're a good guy Mac. The best. You've never done anything but look out for me. You've always trusted me. How many times do you have to prove that? I'm angry with every foster parent or social worker who ever made me feel that I wasn't someone whose opinion you asked. Not with you. And I'll be dammed if I'll let the likes of Walker or Mrs Fraser, or any other adult who ever screwed me over, stop me from seeing that what we have is different."
"You know, you're growing up pretty fast," Duncan complimented him..
"Does that mean you'll put in a good word for me with Amanda?" Richie managed, aware that his ears had turned bright pink.
"Ask me in a century or two." Duncan ruffled his hair. "Here," he pressed the lock picks back into his hand. "You keep them. Our kind don't always have the luxury of full disclosure with the authorities. You never know when you might need them."
***
Duncan studied Richie carefully, as he carried the two mugs of hot chocolate over to the sofa. Methos had tactfully made himself scare in the small galley, chopping and peeling with almost manic precision, as he made something hot and Mexican for dinner.
"Here," Duncan offered the cup, not missing the way that Richie started slightly.
"Thanks." Richie said, reaching out to wrap his chilled hands around the warm mug gratefully.
"You're welcome."
Duncan sank down on the sofa, beside him and took a sip of his own drink before looking over at Richie.
"So, how are you doing with this?"
"We're cool, Mac," Richie assured him. "I mean, Walker never told Marc squat. You told me you were Immortal. You told me about the Game. Not to mention you seem hell bent on introducing me to every Immortal friend you've ever met .."
"And a few of my enemies." Duncan murmured.
"I saw Walker first."
"I'll give you that," Duncan conceded. "Although, that does not mean that you have to take matters into your own hands .."
"Ah, about that," Richie blushed slightly. "I never meant you couldn't beat him .. not as such .."
"Richie. I'll deal with it."
"He's dangerous Mac."
"Yeah? So am I." Duncan vowed darkly. "But, that's not what I meant before, and you know it."
Richie shifted slightly on the sofa and looked down at the mug in is hands.
"If I didn't die .. I mean if I lived to be about seventy or something, could I die in my sleep and not be Immortal?"
"Is that what you want?"
"I don't know what I what," Richie ran a hand through his hair. "I always thought it would be so cool to be Immortal. The things I'd do. The places I'd see. The people I'd meet."
"You mean girls don't you?" Duncan rolled his eyes.
"It was a teenage fantasy," Richie defended himself. "Pretty girls, in teeny tiny bikinis come with the territory. I never actually thought it would happen. Immortals are guys like you and Connor. Born to the sword, able to take the wings off a gnat at forty paces, With centuries of experience under your belts. Not me."
"No one is born with centuries of experience under their belts." Duncan reassured.
"Will you be my teacher?" Richie asked shyly. "Like Connor was yours?"
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Will you teach me to kill?" Richie asked, blankly.
"I'll teach you to survive," Duncan corrected. "And rule number one, is if you don't have to fight, then don't. But sometimes, there is no alternative."
"What if I can't?" Richie looked up at him, his eyes wide. "What if I'm standing there with my sword at their neck and I just .. can't do it?"
"Richie, none of us were born Immortal. And we all had to learn to kill in the way of our kind."
"That's something to look forward to." Richie looked slightly green.
"Hey," Duncan nudged him fondly. "You .."
Suddenly, he broke off, eyes scanning the immediate vicinity with an intensity that Richie recognised all too well.
"Oh man," Richie realised. "Please tell me it isn't .."
Duncan was already surging to his feet.
"Walker." He hissed.