"Duncan, what are you doing here?" Conner asked as they found each other at the baggage claim.

"Giving you a ride."

"I was expecting the lad," he said into Duncan's shoulder as they shared a manly embrace.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"I see. Something bothering you?"

Duncan spotted Conner's luggage coming round on the belt and grabbed it. "Nothing more than the usual."

"Richie?"

"How did you guess?" They started towards the parking lot.

"So what is the problem this time?" Duncan didn't respond. "You two still fighting over nothing?"

"Not nothing... just. I don't know how to react to him."

"And?"

"And I can never tell what he's thinking."

"And?"

"And I always seem to say the wrong thing."

"And?"

"And nothing."

Conner smiled a knowing smile. "And you still feel protective of him though you both know he is a capable adult who doesn't need Duncan MacLeod hovering around him. You trying to protect him makes him feel like you think he's still a kid. So he's moody."

Duncan put Conner's suitcase in the trunk of the jeep. "So..."

"So what?"

"So tell me what ever it is you're going to tell me."

"What makes you think I have something to say?"

"Because I know you and I know that smile."

"What smile?" Conner asked innocently.

"That one." Duncan started the car.

"I was just thinking that we had this conversation twelve years ago while he was still in school."

"Did we now?"

"Well, same song, different verse. Duncan, you have to understand that Richie is a stubborn, moody, independent, yet very loyal and protective man...unfortunately so are you. You two are exactly alike, which is what pulls you together and what drives you two insane about each other."

"I don't think that's the entire problem, Conner. Richie seems hell bent on showing off how well he made it without me."

"That's your problem?" the elder immortal laughed.

"What's so funny? I can't try to give him a single piece of advice without him assuming that I think he's still a kid."

"So don't give him advice unless he asks for it."

"It's not that easy; the kid made a pretty stupid mistake just the other day."

"Duncan, let him make his mistakes; let him handle it on his own. And if he wants to show off for you, let him. He just wants to prove himself."

"He doesn't have to."

"You know that; I know that. Hell, he probably knows that. But that doesn't mean he doesn't want to show you what he's done."

"Why?"

"Why do toddlers have to show mommy and daddy every little picture they draw?"

"Conner, Richie's not a toddler."

"But he is someone who likes to be told he did a good job. My guess is all he wanted was for you to tell him that he did everything right."

"Richie's not a teenager anymore," Duncan insisted. "He's too old for that."

"Part of him is," Conner agreed. "But there is always some part of us that wants to be praised. Even you."

"I do not!"

"Then why did I get constant updates on how Richie's training was going when he first became one of us?"

"I thought you would be interested."

"Why did you invite me down to help you set up the antique store in Washington? Or to sit in on one of your classes at the university?" Duncan didn't answer. "Because you wanted to show me how well you were doing."

"I don't think that was the case."

"Maybe not, but I've had similar experiences with you."

They drove in silence for a few miles. "You really think he just wants my approval?" Duncan asked.

"Not just your approval, but I'm sure it's on the list."

. . . . . .

Richie and the boys were waiting on the porch when Duncan and Conner pulled up in the Jeep.

"Conner!" Anthony called and waived.

"Hey!" Richie greeted standing up and wiping off the back of his jean shorts. Brandon stood as well, but hung in the back of the small pack of immortals.

Conner climbed out of the car and went to greet the young immortals, leaving Duncan to take care of his bags.

"How are you doing, Anthony?" he asked jabbing him playfully in the jaw.

"I'm good."

"Richie," he looked him up and down. "You've been spending too much time with Duncan."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Richie asked even as he grinned.

"You need a hair cut, lad."

"I like it."

"It looks good on you."

"Wait until you see what he did to himself," Duncan warned coming out of the house.

"What did he do?" Conner asked.

"Show him."

"What?" Richie asked. Duncan reached out and turned Richie around so his back was facing Conner. "Oh, that."

"Look what he did." Duncan lifted up the back of Richie's shirt so his tattoo was showing.

"I ought to take the flat of my sword to your backside for this!" Conner scolded.

"Why?" Richie squirmed out of Duncan's grip and pulled down his shirt.

"Didn't Duncan and I forbid you to do such things?"

Richie smirked. "Since when did I listen to you two anyway?"

"You'll learn to, lad."

Richie just laughed. "Sure I will."

Conner smiled at him, then caught Brandon's eye. "And you are?"

"Uh...Brandon...O'Neal," the teen stuttered.

"You're the reason for all this, then?"

"I guess."

"Brandon," Richie stepped in, putting an arm around his shoulders. "This is Conner MacLoed. I told you about him this morning." Brandon nodded. "He's going to be your teacher. You'll like him, trust me. And he's gonna like you."

"It's nice to meet you, Brandon." Conner extended his hand and Brandon took it. "I think we'll get along just fine."

"Well, why don't we all get acquainted over dinner," Richie suggested. "Which is not here, because I burned it...horribly."

"Smooth, Rich," Duncan chided.

"But, I made us dinner reservations at Big Bowl and if we leave now we should be right on time. So, everyone in the car."

They all piled into the station wagon and Richie drove across the island to the restaurant.

"This place is awesome," he told everyone as he pulled into a parking space. "The stir fry bar is the best."

"How many?" the hostess asked as they filed in.

"We have a reservation," Richie said.

"Name?"

"Rick Noel."

The hostess checked the list. "Ah, your table should be ready in just a minute."

"Thanks."

"Rick Noel?" Duncan asked when Richie turned to relay the news, not having noticed him standing behind him.

"Yeah...that's my name here."

Duncan couldn't help but smile. "It's a good name."

Richie smiled back. "Thanks."

"I think Tessa would be proud to hear you took her name as your first new identity."

"Thanks, Mac. That actually means a lot to me to hear you say that."

Duncan gave him a one armed hug as they went over to join the group to wait for their table. Conner caught his eye and gave him a kind, but smug told- you-so look.

Less than a minute later, the hostess showed them to their table. Conner caught up with Richie and put his arm around his shoulders.

"Relax," he told him.

"What?" Richie gave him a confused look.

"He's noticed. Stop trying so hard. Just be yourself." Conner hooked a finger under the chain of Richie's necklace. "Wear it proud, lad."

"You are so weird sometimes," Richie laughed.

"Just listen to me; its sound advice."

"If only I knew what you were talking about."

They were seated at a big round table in a secluded corner of the restaurant.

"What's a stir fry bar?" Anthony asked.

"Here, I'll show you." Richie got up and led the teen to the table right in front of the kitchen with large bowls of vegetables on it.

"You tell the waiter what meat and sauce you want, they give you a bowl and you put however much of what you want in it, put it on the lazy susan with your ticket and they cook it for you."

While they were gone, Conner turned to Brandon. "How old are you, Brandon?"

"Um...18."

"Young age to become one of us."

"Anthony and Richie were the same age," he defended.

"And they were young." Brandon shifted his gaze to his menu.

"Lad, I'm not scolding you," Conner said leaning in so their conversation was private. "If you ask me, the younger ones are more fun then the old sticks in the mud." He jerked a thumb toward Duncan. "We'll have to work hard, but word on the street is you're not half bad." Brandon looked up at him. "I have something for you when we get back to the house."

Brandon quirked a grin. "What is it?"

Conner leaned back in his chair with a wicked smile. "A surprise."

Duncan chuckled. "I think we found a match."

Richie and Anthony came back in time for the waiter to come by for drink and appetizer orders. They got a sampler platter and order of dumplings to share.

"So, Conner," Richie started when the silence got too awkward. "Brandon is a black belt in karate."

"Really?"

"He taught classes at his old dojo."

"That will come in handy. We may fight with swords, but unarmed battle is very important. If you can defend yourself without a weapon, you will do better with one," he told the teen.

The waiter came back with the appetizers and took their orders. A minute later, he came back with five bowls. The two teens went first with orders to get a good amount of vegetables. When the boys got back, Conner decided Richie and Duncan should go together. They got up and walked to the vegetable bar. Duncan hung back for a just a second, but long enough for Richie to notice.

"You never done this before?" Richie asked.

"I think I can figure it out."

"I dunno, Mac, it's a bit complicated."

"I think I'll manage." He reached for the tongs in the bean sprouts and managed to knock over the bowl of baby corn in the process. Luckily it just tipped and only a few of the cobs fell out. No one noticed, until Richie burst out laughing.

"Smooth, Mac!"

"Would you shut up," Duncan hissed, now completely flustered and missing his bowl when he tried to continue on as normal.

Richie tried to smother his laughter, but wasn't successful. "I'm sorry," he gasped. "I don't know why I think it's so funny."

"Rick?" a man asked coming up behind Richie.

Richie only laughed harder. "Hi."

"Have you been eating too much sugar again?" the man asked.

"No," Richie said, finally calming down. "Uh, Mac...this is my Rabbi, Joel Rosenberg. This is Duncan MacLeod."

"A word of advice," Rabbi Rosenberg told Duncan as he shook his hand. "Keep this one away from anything with sugar in it, he gets a little crazy."

Duncan smiled. "I know, I practically raised him."

Rabbi Rosenberg frowned. "Are you his uncle?"

"No," Richie cut in. "Just close family. I spent my summers with him a lot."

"Oh, I see. I was about to say, you don't look much like Richie Ryan. I assume I'll see you at service this week?" he asked Richie.

"Of course."

"I should go join my family. It was nice to meet you." He walked away.

"You are your own uncle?" Duncan asked.

Richie shrugged. "Someone noticed, I had to think of something."

"That can get a little complicated, Rich."

"Didn't you claim to be your own grandson once?"

"But my 'grandfather' was dead. You're still alive."

"No one mentions it anymore, Mac, it's fine."

"Just be careful with things like that."

"I will."

They went back to the table. Dinner was uneventful after Richie's outburst though he did get a second lecture about trying to live two identities at once from Conner as well. Which then led to lecturing the boys about cover- up ideas that sound appealing at the time, but are actually bad ideas. After that, they spent time getting Conner and Brandon acquainted. Duncan and Richie could tell that they had come up with a good match. Brandon was disciplined enough to be a model student, but free spirited enough to give Conner a challenge. Conner was understanding enough to know when to give Brandon his space, but demanding enough to keep him in line and out of danger.

On the way home, everyone shared training stories, most of which featured Duncan because both Richie and Anthony demanded to hear them.

"Well, I believe we have something rather important to do right now," Conner said as Richie pulled the station wagon into the drive way.

"I suppose we do," Duncan agreed.

"I think we should leave him in suspense until morning," Richie piped up.

"I have presents for everybody," Conner said.

"Then we should do it now," Richie decided.

"Then we will."

They all filed into the living room and took a seat where they could, Duncan in the arm chair, the boys on the couch, Richie on the arm rest with his shoes up on the coffee table and Conner on the love seat with a small pile of gifts at his feet.

"Duncan." Conner handed him a small package.

"Book," Richie and Anthony announced in unison.

"Be quiet," Duncan scolded with a smile, opening the package. "Conner, where did you find this?" It was a book of scores by his favorite composer Ian MacDuff, an old Scottish composer from the seventeenth century.

"Luck. Anthony?"

Anthony got a set of throwing stars and knifes. "I love it!"

"Thanks, Conner," Duncan groused.

"And for Richie. Something every immortal needs as he gets older." He handed Richie an envelope.

With an odd expression, Richie opened it and looked inside. "I get a piece of paper?"

"Read it."

Richie took the paper out and unfolded it. His jaw dropped as he read the page. "You're giving me an island?"

"A retreat," Conner told him. "The land is yours as is the cottage. It's on holy ground."

A faint smile played across Richie's lips. "Just like Mac's."

"Only in the tropics. A bit harder to get to."

"Thanks, Conner."

"And now for the reason we're all here." Conner stood up and motioned for Brandon to do the same. He opened a long oak box and took out a Spanish Calvary sword. "Take this." He handed it, hilt first, over to the young immortal, but held onto it as he made his speech. "Learn with it, live with it, make it part of you. Sometimes it will be your only friend. Serve it well and it will serve you well. Our clan has grown over the years. And you are now a part of it. MacLeods always serve as allies. Sitting in this room are your allies. You can always turn to them in a time of need and they to you. Learn, grow and make us proud." He released the sword. "Welcome to the clan MacLeod."