AN: Thanks to all who pointed out my little blunders last chap. I think I got them all fixed. And to those of you looking for no angst...all I can say is I'll try to take it easy, but in this situation you know there's gonna be some.

CHAPTER FIVE

"Well, I have good news and bad news," Richie said returning to the table at Lori's Diner after stepping out to check on Duncan's flight's status. "The good news is Mac's flight was delayed so we have plenty of time to eat and relax. The bad news is we have enough time to relax and eat but not enough time to relax, eat and then do something."

"So what are we going to do?" Heather asked.

"That's up to you guys. I am perfectly happy sitting in the sun reading for an hour or so until he lands. But that would be terribly antisocial of me. So...I can take you back to my place or the Village or the city or we can come up with something to talk about while we wait at the airport."

"What's The Village?" Brandon asked.

"It's where I work. It's a resort that has all sorts of shops and pools and a beach and all sorts of junk."

"That sounds cool."

Their food came and they talked about their options; ultimately it was decided that Richie was going to drop them back at his house before going to the airport alone to get Duncan. After Richie paid the check, they went back to his house. Brandon settled himself on Richie's computer while David and Heather settled together in front of the TV. Richie wrote his cell number on the freezer door before heading out.

Once again he parked and sat down on the luggage carousel, this time with his copy of "The Literary Offences of Fenimore Cooper" in hand. He laughed out loud at one point, attracting the attention of one of the workers.

"Twain," he explained holding up his book. The man just nodded and proceeded to ignore Richie as he finished his work.

Nearly an hour after Richie had arrived, the flight's arrival was announced. From experience Richie knew Duncan would be the last off the plane because he had to help anyone and everyone he could first. So Richie moved off the carousel and settled on the ground against a pillar to wait some more. He had barely read a paragraph when the buzz hit him. He took a minute to collect himself before standing up and searching the crowd for a familiar face. He found the source of the buzz, but it wasn't Duncan. Richie was about to blow it off as an immortal on vacation when a light haired teen bounded toward him.

"Wow! You look so different!" the teen exclaimed coming to a stop in front of him.

"Excuse me?" Richie asked.

"Wow, I thought you'd be a bit taller, though. But it's so cool to finally meet you!" He grabbed Richie's hand and shook it almost violently.

"Who are you?"

"Anthony Gibbs."

"Do I know you?" Richie asked, slightly stunned by the British boy's enthusiasm.

"Oh, um, I suppose not. I'm Anthony Gibbs," he shook Richie's hand, which he had held onto the entire time, again.

"Uh-huh. And you know me...how, exactly?"

"MacLeod," Anthony answered happily.

"Mac?"

"Nice hair." Richie turned around and found Duncan standing behind him.

"Hey, Mac."

"Hey, yourself." The looked each other over for a few awkward minutes. "Where is everyone else?"

"Oh, uh." Richie snapped out of his trance like state. "Back at my place. I guess we'd better get your stuff and get headed out, huh?" He started toward the luggage carousel. "So... You're in the UK now, huh?" he tried to make conversation.

"What makes you say that?"

"Anthony's accent...but I guess with you I should know better."

"Cardiff," Duncan answered. "West of London on the coast."

"Oh, cool. Is it nice?"

"Yeah, it's nice."

They stood by the carousel waiting for the bags to come around. When one did, Duncan merely pointed it out for Richie to get, which he did. In silence, they got the bags and headed for the car.

"Wow, is this your car?" Anthony asked while Richie put the bags in the trunk of the jeep.

"No, I thought I'd steal it because I've always wanted one." He rolled his eyes.

"Do you really know how to pick locks and hot wire cars?"

"You have a lot of energy, don't you?" Richie mumbled getting into the driver's seat.

"Mac says I'm a lot like you were at my age."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, he says it all the time."

"Lucky me." Richie backed the car out of the parking space and didn't miss Duncan's "be nice" glare as he turned back around to drive forward.

The ride to Richie's house was silent, except for Anthony's constant chatter in the back seat as he commented on anything his eyes happened to land upon. "Where are all the palm trees? Where's the beach? What's all this black stuff? Why do people spell out their names in white rocks on the black stuff? Where do you live? Do you surf? Wow, there are a lot of convertibles out here."

Richie was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white. He wasn't quite sure what had him so tense. He wanted to say it was the constant chatter of the young immortal behind him, but he knew that wasn't it. It was simply that the young immortal what's-his-name was there at all. Richie knew it was pathetic that he was jealous of a...well, younger immortal that he's only known for all of twenty minutes, if that. But it was more pathetic, he realized, that he was fully aware of his unwarranted jealousy and had no means or desire to get rid of the feeling. He was childishly content being possessive of his teacher.

"Richie?"

"Huh?" Richie shook his head. "What'd you say, Mac?"

"I was apologizing for not telling you about Anthony. He slipped my mind while I was talking to you. I only realized when he ran off to find you that you had no idea he was coming."

"Oh, it's cool. There's plenty of room in the inn."

Silence once again reigned in the jeep. It was broken when Richie honked the horn as he pulled into the driveway.

"This is it." In a repeat of yesterday, he got out of the car and headed for the trunk, handing the smallest bag to the smallest immortal and keeping what he assumed was Duncan's for himself to carry. "Just us good guys," he assured Brandon as they entered the living room, where the teen sat still surfing the net on Richie's computer.

"Mac, I'm sure you remember Heather," he started the introductions. "And this is Brandon. And Heather's husband, David." Nice to meet you's were passed around. "And this is Anthony, Mac's...uh, new student."

Awkward silence settled on the group as they searched for something to say. Slowly small talk started to take over and a little after that the teenagers got bored and Richie casually mentioned the video games in his bedroom. A split second later the adults were the only ones left in the living room. They were all at a loss for what to do or say. Finally, Richie decided to play the good host.

"Would anyone like a drink?" he offered, standing up.

"What do you have?" Duncan asked.

"Lemme check." He disappeared into the kitchen only to return a few minutes later with a pad of paper and a pen. "Well, once again my lack of total preparedness shines through. I have water, water with ice, one Pepsi and some pretty nasty, most likely gone bad lemon-aid. So, tell me what you like and you can have it in an hour or so, until then you can fight over the soda or have water." Laughing, Heather made a few suggestions, which Richie scribbled down on the pad before turning his attention to David, then Duncan. "Oh," he said in slight surprise to Duncan's suggestion to beer. "Someone will have to come with me then. As far as I can prove, I'm only 20 now."

"I'll go," Heather offered.

"Groovy. So what does everyone want around here as far as food goes?" He wrote down the suggestions then went to go ask the boys what they wanted. Once he had his list ready, he and Heather left for the store.

"So, are you immortal?" David asked Duncan.

"Yes, I was Richie's first teacher."

"So, what are you, a hundred years old?"

"Close...420. Well, 418."

David stared at him. "Richie really is serious. Brandon can live to be hundreds of years old?"

"Brandon can live to be thousands of years old. It all depends on how good he is with a sword."

"He doesn't have one."

Duncan smiled. "Most immortals don't come sword in hand these days. Either Richie or I will get him one. Until then I brought him something to practice with."

"Is that one of the things a teacher does?"

"I'm not going to teach Brandon. I'm teaching Anthony right now. Two immortal teenagers is something no one should have to suffer through."

"They seem to get along," David observed, hearing the playful jabs coming from down the hall.

"They probably will become friends," Duncan agreed. "But I've dealt with Richie at this age and have no intention of putting myself in the position of taking care of two of him. It's easier to teach one teenager at a time. I am, however, willing to take care of Brandon if Richie can't until we find him a teacher."

"What about his sword? Doesn't he need a good one now?"

"When I said I brought him a practice sword, I didn't mean I brought him one that can't serve him well. But, it is his teacher's job to give him the sword he will use for the rest of his life."

"You've had the same sword since you became immortal?"

"Well, no. My first one eventually broke, so got myself a new one. Then a friend gave me one as a very special gift and I've had that one ever since. As far as I know, Richie still uses the same sword I gave him when he was 19."

"So this is all true. Immortals, swords, beheadings?"

"It is. Sometimes it can be a curse, but in the long run it is a great gift. I've seen things that children only read about in books. I've stood five feet away from Hitler; I've met royalty; I've served in many wars. I've seen the times come and go. I know languages that haven't been spoken in thousands of years. I've met people who can remember Caesar, Cleopatra, William the Conqueror, Queen Elizabeth the first. I've lived history. The first time I came to America, it wasn't half this size."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. Brandon can do that too. In a few thousand years, he may be telling stories of what it's like now to kids who only know what their history books tell them."

At the store, Heather and Richie meandered up and down the aisles tossing anything that looked appealing into the basket Richie was pushing.

"It's really good to see you again," Richie said, jumping to get some double stuffed Oreos off the top shelf. "I've been wondering how you've been doing."

"I've been doing really well, actually," she answered. "David and I..." she trailed off. "I really like the theater."

"Cool." They started up the soup aisle. "How are your parents and Courtney?"

"Their doing fine, considering. Courtney is about to graduate from Somo."

Richie grinned. "That's awesome. Good for her. What's her major?"

"History. She really likes Alex's job."

"What? Does she know about...?"

"No. But all she knows is Alex is a historian and gets to travel all over the world."

"You don't think he's going to get her into the Watchers, do you?"

"I don't know. Is it dangerous?"

"Depends on what she'd be doing. Research isn't dangerous. Tailing someone may be depending on who she's assigned to."

"What do you mean?"

"Not all of us are good, Heather. Can you grab a couple boxes of those?" He pointed to the rare boxes of Matzos on the shelf. "We're just like you guys. Some good, some bad, some interesting, some boring. Being a field Watcher is like being an undercover cop. You never know who you're following and what may happen."

"Is it dangerous for Alex to follow you?"

Richie snorted as he picked through the tomatoes. "Yeah, right. My life is totally boring. I wake up, run, go to school, go to work and go home. Sometimes you can throw in something exciting like soccer practice or temple. The people I run into around here are on vacation and want nothing to do with me, unless I happen to be doing room service that night."

"Is Brandon in danger?"

"I suppose. I mean, there's always the possibility that some whack job head hunter may pop out of the shadows."

"Really?"

"Sure, you remember that power outage at your cousin's wedding?"

"Mary Beth's?"

"Yeah. That was from a Quickening. A head hunter picked a fight with me and I beat him."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Do you like red or green apples?"

. . . . . .

"Die Emperial scum!!" Brandon yelled thrashing his controller around in an attempt to somehow manipulate his Jedi on the screen.

"Not a chance, pathetic Jedi. My Force is strong!"

"The Dark Side will never win!"

"Oh, but it will, you'll see. Your Muppet of a master has taught you nothing!"

"Yoda is not a Muppet!"

"Might as well be!" Brandon's Jedi fall to his knees and Anthony started a little victory dance. "Told you!"

Brandon put down this controller. "So where are you from?" he asked.

"England. What about you?"

"Missouri."

"How old are you?"

"18."

"Me, too! I died about five months ago. What about you?"

"A couple weeks."

"Wow, you are new!"

"Yeah."

"So you've never used a sword, have you?"

"Nope."

"If you're anything like me, you'll love it. It's a lot of fun. Though, Mac does tend to get a little intense at times."

"What do you mean?" Brandon shifted his weight so he was sitting cross- legged on the bed facing Anthony.

"He yells, doesn't hold back at all. He'll slam you around like it's the real thing if he thinks you're not paying attention."

"Really? Even when you're just starting?"

Anthony shrugged. "I think it depends on the situation. I thought he was pretty rough with me at first and when I called him on it, he said he was a lot easier on me than he was on Richie. Apparently not a week after he became immortal Richie had some old girl after him."

"That soon?"

"Yeah, he was trying to stop her from killing some diplomat or something, and accidentally killed her husband."

"Did he take her head?"

"No. He wasn't ready yet."

"Oh. Have you taken a head yet?"

"Me? Of course not! Mac still takes up any of my challenges. He says I'm no where near ready yet."

A buzz hit both boys, stopping their conversation. "Hey, guys," Richie came into the room. "Groceries in the car. Have at it." He turned and left again.

Brandon looked at Anthony. "How uncool was that?" he complained.

Anthony smiled. "You'll get used to it."

"Are people going to start ordering me around now?"

"Certain ones. See, there's a hierarchy with immortals. See, as a student you do what your teacher tells you," he explained turning off the TV and game system.

"But Richie said he's not going to be my teacher."

"But he is protecting you, which puts you in the same situation."

"So why do you have to listen to him?"

"Because he was my teacher's student before I was. So I'm supposed to give him the same respect I would Mac. It's kinda complicated. What it really boils down to is who's older."

"Oh." Brandon followed Anthony down the hall and out to the car. "So does that mean that Richie has to listen to Mac?"

"Of course, Mac was his teacher."

Anthony's point was proven a few minutes later as the boys started to unload the sacks of food they hand brought in from the car.

"Richie," Duncan looked at him from across the table. "What are you making them do that for?" Richie just looked at him. "Go help them."

"But..." Richie started.

"It's your house; you know where everything goes."

Rolling his eyes, Richie got up and took a six pack of soda out of a bag.

"Forgot it goes both ways, eh?" Anthony asked.

Richie handed him the sodas. "The fridge in the garage, bottom shelf... Oh," he handed him a bag of frozen food. "Put these in the freezer while you're at it," he instructed with a don't-get-smart-with-me-I-can-still-boss-you- around grin.

While the two youngest immortals put the food away while Richie directed them, Richie and the other adults made plans for the night. Once the boys were done putting the food away, they headed out for a late lunch so Richie could take them on a tour of The Village before the luau there later that night.