AN – Sorry this has taken soooo long to update. Right now I can only cope with one story at a time. So now I've finally finished R of P this one will be getting my full attention from now on. Honest!

***

"I don't know why you made me change into this." For about the hundredth time, since they had left Richie pulled at his suit jacket, trying, unsuccessfully, to get comfortable.

"It makes you look smart." Duncan didn't take his eyes off the road as he pulled away at the intersection..

"It makes me look stupid," Richie countered. "This jacket of yours is huge. You could fit two of me in here. I can't even see my hands."

"You didn't seem to have any problems changing the channel on the radio." Duncan observed dryly.

"Survival instinct," Richie huffed, sinking a little lower into his seat. "Besides, you changed it back."

"You're grounded, remember? That means you have to listen to what I want."

"You know this classical stuff will stunt my growth don't you? Scientists have made studies."

"This music was around long before scientists," Duncan smiled. "You could try listening to it, rather than complaining. Who knows? You might even like it."

They rode in silence for a while.

"Um. Mac," Richie shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Are we nearly there yet?"

Duncan blinked.

"I cannot believe you actually just said that."

"I'm serious. Are we almost there?"

"About another ten minutes." He looked over at the teen. Richie was slightly pale and shifting around in his seat as if he was in pain.

"What's wrong?" He asked, in concern.

"Um. Nothing," Richie squirmed. "Just, can you drive any faster?"

"Richie," Even as he pressed down on the gas a little harder, Duncan shot him a concerned glance. "What's wrong? Did you pull a muscle or something when we were running?"

Duncan didn't think so. He'd be very careful to ensure that Richie had down the proper warm ups and cooled down slowly after their run. But he was still a novice and accidents happened. And something was definitely wrong with him.

"No," Richie hissed, between clenched teeth. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." Duncan worried. "C'mon, Tough Guy, tell me what's wrong."

A bright pink spot appeared in each of Richie's cheeks.

"Its nothing. I just really, really, need to go to the bathroom."

He looked miserably out of the window, waiting for the Immortal to laugh at his childish predicament, or maybe yell at him for drinking so much coffee in the first place.

"Just hold on," Duncan meant to be reassuring, but winced at the unintended pun. "We're almost there."

***

"Better now?" Duncan greeted him as he emerged from the immense marble bathroom, putting aside his newspaper and rose gracefully out of one of the black leather armchairs scattered around the lobby.

Richie shot a swift glance at the Immortal to see if he was teasing him. But he saw only honest concern.

"Yeah, thanks." He shrugged, self consciously. "Sorry."

"Will you stop apologising?" Duncan shook his head, reaching over to straighten Richie's jacket collar with affectionate exasperation, the warm of his fingers brushing Richie's neck, making him feel unaccustomedly cared for and looked after.

"Sorry."  Richie joked, as he risked a shy smile.

Just as Mac opened his mouth to reply, a large dark haired man, in black jeans and a leather jacket hailed him from across the lobby. Richie distinctly heard the words Duncan Macleod, but everything after that was gibberish.

Oh, please no.

But sure enough, Duncan was shaking the man by the hand and obviously asking after his flight. Then he was turning to introduce Richie, who smiled and nodded in what he hoped was a suitable manner. Although, Mac could just have told leather jacket that he was the pizza delivery boy for all Richie knew. Then they were heading off towards the elevators, presumably to meet with the others upstairs. Mac was pressed a large leather notebook and a pen into his hands.

"Why are you giving me these?" Richie hissed, under his breath even though leather jacket showed no sign of understanding him.

Catching his eye, Richie smiled and nodded at him.

"Because," Mac got in beside him in the elevator and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. "You're going to take the minutes."

"What!" Richie kept his voice low. "Mac, I can't understand a word this guy says."

"He doesn't know that," Duncan shrugged. "Just look interested and keep writing."

"What's the point in that?" Richie huffed.

Duncan leant over slightly, so close that Richie could feel the warmth of his breath against his ear.

"Or you could just write out I will not stay out past my curfew 100 times."

"Oh," Richie swallowed, truth be told, Mac had been so cool, he had kinda forgotten he was supposed to be being punished. "Right." He nodded earnestly.

Still. He couldn't resist one last point.

"How come he isn't wearing a suit?"

"Because," Mac told him with sweet reason as they all exited the elevator. "He's not grounded. And he's a millionaire."

There was, Richie decided, no arguing with that.

Except.

"Mac? How rich are you?"

***

Three hours and forty five and a half minutes Richie was almost ready to fall on his pen, when Mac and Herr Schultz, suddenly stood up. There was a quick flurry of handshakes all round, and then he and Mac were alone in the boardroom.

"I'm sorry." Richie said instantly.

"What exactly are you sorry for Richie?" Duncan asked, with deceptive calm.

Richie winced. This was bad.

"You can't blame me for the water jug," he protested. "That was an accident."

"An accident that would never have happened if you had been paying attention to what you were doing instead of looking at that secretary's .. credentials."

"OK, so I got a little distracted. But the ink thing, that wasn't my fault at all. Your pen is defective."

"My pen has worked perfectly well as a quality writing instrument for the last eighty years." Duncan corrected.

"Mac, the end came off. Balding guy over there got ink all over his four figure suit."

"That is because the manufacturers never envisaged it being employed as a drumstick. What was that tune you were playing anyway?"

The Immortal was sure he had recognised it. But, right now for the life of him he couldn't quite place it. Richie looked away and muttered something Duncan didn't catch.

"What was that?"

Richie flicked him a quick, awkward, glance.

"Um. The Great Escape."

The …" Duncan had to take a deep breath to calm himself. He only hoped that the German businessmen were not familiar with that particular World War II  movie.

"Aw, c'mon Mac, what else was I gonna do? Boardroom is right," Richie protested. "I was going out of my mind here."

"Didn't you learn anything from this morning's experience?" Duncan demanded, exasperated.

"Yeah," Richie looked back at his notes. "Mr Schultz there," he nodded to where leather jacket had been sitting, "Has a collection of paintings that he inherited from his Grandfather, big name dudes, Monet, Reuben and the like, and he wants you to sell them for him in the States, cos he thinks he'll get a better price here, but you want to check something .. I missed that .." Richie frowned. ".. so you know its all above board."

"The provenance," Duncan spoke slowly. "I want to make sure that his Grandfather had legal title to the pictures. During the war so many things were stolen or sold on the black market. I just want to make sure they are really his to sell. How do you know all that?  I thought you didn't speak German?"

"I don't," Richie shrugged. "I don't speak Spanish or Mexican either, but I can tell when a deal's going down. You need to in my neighbourhood."

"You old neighbourhood," Duncan corrected.

"I fit in better there than I do with dudes like that."

"Oh, and how many Reuben's are there in your old neighbourhood?" Duncan challenged.

"Depends how many heists there have been lately." Richie shrugged. "Besides, all it took was to recognise the names."

Duncan decided not to point out that he wouldn't have been able to do that a few months ago.

"And some of the words weren't that different from Polish." Richie finished. "It wasn't that hard to put it all together."

"C'mon," Duncan grinned at him as he pulled his jacket off the back of his chair and stood up. "You can pick where we go for lunch."

 "I can? But I thought you were mad at me," Richie trailed after him, confused.

"That was when I thought you weren't paying attention."

***

"You took him out to lunch?" Tessa raised a sceptical brow. "And what will you do this afternoon? Torture him with actions movies? Or force feed him hot fudge sundaes?"

 "It wasn't like that."

Across the room, Richie paused in his dusting and looked anxiously over his shoulder, causing Tessa to drop her voice.

"Oh, I know exactly what it was like, Duncan Macleod," she whispered. "He is supposed to be on punishment."

"He's a teenager. Wearing a suit and sitting still for almost four hours, is punishment," Duncan hissed back. "And he showed a great deal of initiative working out what was going on. Don't you think that deserved some reward?"

"If you cannot be firm with him. Then you can watch the Store this afternoon. I will take him with me."

"You're going to take him to the Gallery?" Duncan was so surprised, he didn't realise that he had spoken so loudly until Richie appeared at his elbow.

"The Gallery? Cool, will Carole be there?"

Duncan winced. Sometimes Richie seemed like such a bright lad. And then there were the other times.

"Why?" Tessa asked sternly. "So, you can tell her you are grounded?"

"Ah, maybe not." Richie looked at his feet. "Do you want me to put Mac's suit on again?"

"No," Tessa looked him up and down. "You'll be fine as you are."

"Are you sure?" Richie glanced up. "You normally hate these clothes."

"Richie, go and put on something you won't mind getting dirty," Duncan rescued him.

Richie glanced over at Tessa. "Hard labour, huh?"

"We are leaving in ten minutes." Tessa told him.

"Right." Richie nodded.

"Sweetheart, I don't think this is a very good idea." Duncan tried again.

"That, is because you worry too much," Tessa leant over and kissed him on the nose. "Richie and I will be just fine."