AN- Yeah, I know I said that this would be the last chapter, but it was getting too long so I decided to break it up. I'll post the rest of it fairly soon, but now it's after 1 am and I'm beat. I would like to take the time to thank SouthernChickie, my only reviewer for the last chapter. I will say that I'm glad this fic is over, even though stirring up controversy was a lot of fun. Once I get around to proofreading and posting the final bit I will be taking a break from Richie stories to focus on some other areas of HL fiction (mainly Methos) and also to work in other fandoms, so if you're one of the many out there who prefer Richie stories I don't know when you'll hear from me again. It's been fun though.
AN2- There's a bit of French in this chapter that's a bit more involved than one or two word exclamations. I have written translations that follow each line in parentheses. I apologize if my translations are off, but it's been 2 years since I last studied French.
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"Why did you do that?" Duncan asked once he and Tessa had reached the safety of the parking lot.
"Do what?" She retorted, her tone clipped. She knew exactly what he was referring to.
"Why did you lie to him?" Duncan asked, his voice surprisingly sincere given his current mood.
"I didn't lie to him," Tessa answered. Her continuation cut off any protests. "His sortie to Emily's grave happened after he left Mrs. Burke's apartment. She did call to tell me that she was worried about him, and she did say where I could find him."
"Yes," Duncan agreed hesitantly, "but you neglected to mention what happened between Mrs. Burke's house and his going to the cemetery, and you also failed to say that Mrs. Burke called twice concerning Richie."
"But I didn't lie," Tessa responded resolutely, convincing herself that she was convinced.
"You've never heard of lies by omission?" Duncan asked incredulously. Tessa spun on her heels to address him directly.
"Don't you dare lecture to me about lies of omission, Duncan MacLeod!" She spat angrily. A tense moment hung between them while Duncan pondered his response.
"And what happens when Richie remembers what really happened?" He asked quietly at last. Tessa's eyes flashed briefly in anger before she violently shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. She turned and walked quickly away, cursing vehemently in French as she went. Duncan sped up his pace to walk in quick steps beside her.
"Tessa," he called, trying to get her attention. She shook her head again and continued her French tirade. By now they had reached the car and Tessa threw the driver's side door open with such force that Duncan thought she might have broken the handle. For lack of a better plan, he climbed into the car on the passenger's side. However, instead of fishing through her purse for her keys, as Duncan expected her to do,
Tessa just sat there, lips pursed and quietly fuming, staring intently at nothing on the dashboard.
"Tessa?" He tried again. Tessa screwed her eyes shut in response, her jaw clenching. "Tess?" Cautiously Duncan reached out for her, laying a hand tentatively on her shoulder. Despite Tessa's strong resolve, the tears finally escaped her eyes. Upon seeing this, Duncan threw caution to the wind and gathered his distraught lover into his arms. She cried angrily for a few moments, a groan of frustration escaping her at last only to be muffled by Duncan's sweater.
"Il tombant tout en morceaux" She said, despair evident in her voice. (It's all falling apart)
"Que?" Duncan asked, slipping into French with her. (What?)
"Nous sommes," she answered. "Ma famille." Duncan tensed even as he held her, but then forced himself to relax. (We are… My family).
"Tess..."
"First Darius dies, and now... now this!" Tessa lamented, finally pulling her face out of her lover's chest so that she could look him in the eye. "And it's all happening again," she continued. "Maybe it's best that this time he forgets!" Duncan was silent a moment as he pondered this, but the inevitable question begged to be asked.
"Best for whom?" Tessa pushed herself completely away from him, wiping her tears away with one hand as she sat up straight.
"And what good would the truth do?" She asked honestly. "He doesn't need the guilt." Duncan half-smiled, but even in her distressed state Tessa could see the bitterness in it.
"And if he doesn't feel guilty?" Tessa looked away, unable to maintain eye contact for she was unable to deny that such a fear also played upon her own mind. Her indecision lasted barely a moment however, and she then looked up to him with certainty.
"Then he doesn't need to remember it," she said definitively.
"And if he does anyway?" Tessa bit her lip but refused to turn away a second time.
"I will not lose this family, Duncan," she reassured with quiet steel. "We have come through too much together to be torn apart from the inside."
"He's not our son," said Duncan, his voice tinged with regret. Tessa didn't even flinch as she said,
"I don't care."
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Duncan and Tessa had deftly managed to avoid their new favorite topic for most of the evening. Tessa had disappeared into her workshop as soon as they arrived home from the hospital and didn't even bother to change her clothes before expending what was left of her anger on metal. Duncan, for his part, thought that she was deriving entirely too much enjoyment from the use of the blowtorch and kept a respectable distance.
Tessa wound up working well through dinner and on late into the night. Duncan also wasn't hungry and thought better of disturbing his lover with such a frivolous thought as food and so he didn't see her again until nearly midnight. Tessa had stopped working just after eleven, and upon realizing the time, decided to call it quits for the day. She truly was exhausted.
Tessa entered their bedroom to find it completely dark. Her extra-long shower had worked wonders for the tension in her aching muscles, but, anger and adrenaline spent, she wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed beside her lover and sleep the following day away.
"I was beginning to think you'd work through the night." Tessa mentally cursed. Of course Duncan would have waited up for her.
"I'm too tired for that," she answered, her tone of voice lending truth to her words. She didn't protest when Duncan snaked his arms about her and pulled her close. Her back was pressed firmly to his chest and the top of her head was caught gently beneath his chin. She could tell that this gesture was for his own comfort as well as hers. "You're worried, Duncan," she said, her tiredness also speaking of amusement. "I can tell."
"So are you," he retorted, but not harshly. Tessa allowed him this before speaking again.
"You're worried that he wouldn't regret killing you the way he did," Tessa probed after a moment. In her exhaustion, her tone bespoke of disappointment and
Duncan didn't answer. She continued, "You worry that he won't forgive you." Tessa felt Duncan tense behind her and smiled despite herself.
"Maybe I don't deserve his forgiveness," he said, self-loathing coloring his voice. Tessa squeezed the arm in front of her in comforting reassurance.
"Do not look for his forgiveness, Duncan, when you haven't done anything wrong." Duncan laughed behind her, but that too was full of self-loathing.
"Haven't I?" He asked rhetorically. "I took him half way round the world becuase I needed to avenge Darius. I never bothered to ask how he felt, or what his opinions were. I didn't even notice the severity of his illness! I just expected him to follow, just... happily trail along after me like a little-"
"Son?" Tessa interjected, and once again she felt Duncan tense behind her.
"I was going to say lost puppy," he said, defeated.
"I know." There was a moment of thick silence before Tessa continued. "Duncan, children either worship their parents, or battle against them. It's natural.
But always they know in their hearts that their parents are making the right decisions for them, even if they don't like them." Duncan let out a long-suffering sigh.
"But did I act in his best interests?" He asked. "Avenging Darius way my choice. It was my selfishness that brought us here."
"Duncan, how could you possibly know that coming back to the states would affect Richie so?" Duncan opened his mouth to answer her, and that's when sudden realization dawned. Because I'm his father, it's my job to know!
"Like you said, Duncan. We aren't his parents. We may love him as a son, and maybe that is selfish on our part, to try and put him into shoes that don't really fit. But there are times when he's needed us to be his parents, too."
"Times like Paris," Duncan concluded. He felt Tessa nod beneath his chin.
"Most often in Paris," she agreed. Then a brief pause while she gathered her thoughts for her next point. "But Duncan, you also know that there were times when he didn't want us to act as parents, times when he claimed he didn't need us... like that."
"And we would let him pull away from us," Duncan added. "Because he's an adult and not our son."
"And we always knew that he'd come back when he needed parents again," Tessa finished. This time it was Duncan who took the long pause to gather his thoughts.
He took so long, in fact, that Tessa had thought the conversation over, and had nearly drifted off to sleep.
"We were always what he needed," he said softly, but right above her ear and thus her eyes snapped open again. Duncan felt her jump slightly and knew that he startled her, so he cuddled her closer to him in apology. "Now, he feels we—I, am not." Tessa squeezed his arm again.
"You needed him to be the loving, supportive son who would follow you anywhere when you took us back to Seacouver," said Tessa. "And he needed you to be the loving, supportive father who wouldn't make such decisions without asking him of his opinions." Duncan snorted a laugh.
"I needed a son, and he needed a father, and still we managed to get... here."
"So you see, Duncan, there is no blame here. Parents and teenagers fight. It's not your fault, nor his."
"Fault or no," said Duncan. "He still blames me." Tessa sighed audibly before speaking.
"And that's something we need to address," she said with quiet resolution. "I will not watch this family break apart." Duncan squeezed her close for a moment.
"Aye, love," he said, his voice thick with emotion. He was eternally grateful to have such a wonderful person in his life.
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Duncan awoke early and went for his morning run. He needed it to focus his thoughts. Somehow the world just makes more sense when he's punishing his body with physical activity. He realized that it was the same for Richie when he went riding and for Tessa when she buried herself in her art.
And thus Tessa awoke to an empty bed. She wasn't all that surprised, however. In fact, she was rather grateful. If she knew her lover at all, he would be gone for most of the morning. This left her plenty of time to hurry over to the hospital and have a clandestine chat with Richie. She couldn't have Duncan blaming himself for the teen's emotions and behaviors, and she couldn't have Richie blaming Duncan for the same. She needed to address his feeling with him and get him to finally be open and honest with her or else reconciliation would be impossible. Tessa flat-out refused to let her family be torn apart over such a trivial issue as location. Family was immutable!
Richie was awake when she arrived, staring at the snow-static on the television in frustration.
"Good morning," she greeted as cheerfully as she could. Richie turned suddenly and smiled when he saw her.
"Hey, Tessa! What brings you here this early? … By yourself?" Tessa forced the smile to remain as Richie shut off the television.
"Duncan was still off on his morning run when I woke up," she explained. "So I decided to take the morning off and come down here and visit with you." Richie grinned again as Tessa sat in the well-worn chair.
"Mac does like his runs," said Richie absently, wishing at that very moment to have the option himself. He really, really hated being cooped up in hospitals.
"Yes," Tessa agreed almost absently. Already her mind was formulating ways of dealing with the situation at hand. Richie's smile slowly fell as he studied her face intently.
"Tess?" He questioned tentatively.
"Hum?" Tessa was suddenly startled out of her reverie, and her smile wasn't quite as convincing as it should have been.
"Ok Tess, what gives?" Richie asked point-blank.
"What do you mean?"
"You never come to visit me without Mac," Richie explained. "What happened? Did you two have a fight?" Tessa was touched by Richie's sincerity and thus strove not to laugh.
"No, Richie. We didn't have a fight." She answered truthfully.
"Then why are you so distracted?" Richie asked, his sincerity taking the edge of the accusation. Tessa sighed heavily. It was now or never.
"Richie, have you remembered anything else about what happened before?" She asked at last, her tone guarded. Richie's face fell and he shyly looked away. "Richie?"
"I remember that I was a big jerk to you guys," he said quietly to his blankets.
"And?" Tessa probed further. Richie bit the inside of his lip. He remembered the large chip he had on his shoulder, and some of the less favorable things he had done. Of course the doctors had assured him that it was because of the fevers, but that was no excuse. He'd been sick before, and he'd never behaved like that!
"And what?" He asked eventually, slightly defensive. Even if he was deserving of a reprimand, old habits were hard to break. "I mouthed off a lot and treated you guys like crap." Tessa sighed inaudibly in relief that he didn't seem to remember the knife incident.
"You were troubled," she answered naturally. Richie snorted and nodded slightly.
"That still didn't give me the right to say those things, or to storm off all the time," he returned. Tessa saw her chance.
"Why not?" Richie blinked and turned to face her once again.
"Because," was his natural stubborn teenager answer. Tessa wasn't about to let him get away with it though.
"Because why?"
"Because!" He repeated rather passionately. Tessa merely raised an eyebrow. Richie released a long-suffering sigh. He felt like he'd just walked right into that one. "I'm sorry," he said, and Tessa detected regret in his voice, as well as self-rebuke.
"Because why?" Tessa asked again, her tone soft and questioning. Richie sighed again.
"Because you guys are…" His voice trailed off as he suddenly didn't know which word to choose. "You guys," he finally repeated. "You're Mac and Tessa! I can't just go around treating you guys like… like… Well, I just can't." Richie looked away again, feeling uncomfortable in this discussion. He fixed his gaze out the window.
"Why can't you?" Tessa probed.
"Because I can't!" Richie snapped. He then all but groaned in frustration and ran his fingers through his hair. "I can't," he repeated. "It's not right."
"Why isn't it right?" Tessa continued. "You make it sound like Duncan and I are an exception to some rule." Richie laughed slightly.
"Because you are," he answered as though it was the most logical thought in the world.
"And what rule is that?" Richie shrugged and didn't answer. "Richie?"
"I have to treat you guys different because you are different," he said at last.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't you know?" Richie met her gaze and found it questioning, yet she would be the one to wait for him to speak more. Finally Richie sighed. "You remember when I first moved in? How I acted? The things I said?" Tessa smiled slightly and nodded. "I'm like that around everyone new," he elaborated, "but I think you knew that." Tessa nodded again. "But then… I dunno. You guys were different from everyone else. You weren't like the others." Tessa smiled again; it was only a ghost of one, but it was genuine.
"Like the other what?" Richie looked away again, trying to choose his words carefully.
"Like the others who took me in."
"Your other families?"
"Forster families!" Richie snapped, turning once again to face Tessa. It took all her strength not to recoil at the outburst. "You guys weren't like my other foster families," he said in clarification, consciously softening his tone. Tessa still eyed him expectantly, seemingly reassured. She was tired of the way things were usually resolved in this family, with Duncan making statements that everyone else would either yay or nay. She needed to hear Richie's thoughts from Richie, not just tell him what he was thinking or feeling. She waited patiently for Richie to speak again, but she was a lot more nervous for this conversation that she let on.
"Do you remember what we talked about when we flew to Paris?" Richie asked after a long and awkward silent moment. Tessa nodded. "That's what I mean. You guys were the best people who ever took me in, and I was too old then to be fostered by anyone. You weren't a foster family, you were…" Richie's voice trailed off, as even now he was afraid to say the words aloud, lest their utterance would shatter his world like pins to a balloon.
"A real family?" Tessa asked, going out on a limb. Richie looked away, embarrassed and ashamed, but he nodded dumbly to the statement. "Richie, look at me." Richie slowly but surely did as he was told. "Richie, I'm a French artist, Duncan is a four hundred year old Scottish antique dealer, and you're the boy who broke into our store. Nevertheless Richie, we three of us are family. Never doubt that, and never be ashamed of it." Richie closed his eyes and made to look away, but Tessa caught him under the chin, gently but firmly, and denied him the privilege. "Oh, mon petit, quelles pensées des diables aviez-vous pensée?" (What thoughts of devils have you been thinking?)
"Mauvaises pensées," Richie admitted, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Je suis désol." (Bad thoughts… I'm sorry)
"Dite-moi." (Tell me.) Richie nodded again and Tessa released his chin. Richie then sank back on the bed and attempted to put his thoughts in order.
"Paris was everything you said it would be," Richie said at last, smiling in memory. "Darius taught me to play chess, you and Mac taught me French. I can watch some of your movies now without subtitles!" Tessa smiled at his enthusiasm. "You took me to museums, showed me famous paintings. Do you remember when that professor dude started that argument with me about the glass pyramid at the Louvre?" Tessa smiled and nodded.
"I think he was surprised to find a teenager so knowledgeable."
"That's because you taught me all about art," Richie said proudly. "And Mac took me sightseeing, told me all about France and how it's changed. I argued so well because Mac taught me about the history of the Louvre itself, too." Richie sighed wistfully. "I learned so much over there."
"You always had an inquisitive mind," Tessa offered. Richie shrugged shyly.
"Don't you see?" he asked. "Paris was everything Seacouver isn't. In Paris I had you and Mac, but nobody knew that I was just the punk thief you guys took pity on." He silenced Tessa's comment with a raise of his hand. "It's true," he reiterated. "You guys were great when I first started working here, but you didn't have to be. I was a thief, and everybody knew it."
"That doesn't matter," Tessa stated firmly. "We know the real you. The Richie Ryan that I know is a thoughtful, diligent, charming young man."
"I know," said Richie. "And in Paris, that's all everyone else knew, too." Realization was beginning to dawn for Tessa, but her thoughts crystallized further as Richie continued. "When I got back to Seacouver, we all just picked up where we left off. You with your art, Mac with the antiques, and me picking fights and copping 'tudes."
"Richie—"
"It was like Paris never happened," he continued, cutting her off. "It was like Oz, and then I woke up, and everything was black and white again."
"Is Seacouver really that bad?" Tessa asked honestly. Richie laughed slightly, mocking.
"Seacouver is where I grew up," he said. "It's where I was in and out of foster homes, orphanages, and juvie. I have a record here. Most of my friends here are dead or in jail. The cops know my face."
"Richie, everything you just said is true, no matter where you are. You were the same Richie in Paris that you were in Seacouver." Richie sighed.
"I was better in Paris," he said weakly.
"Because you could pretend your past did not exist?" Richie looked sharply away again. Tessa once again cupped his chin and turned his head so that he was facing her. Richie's eyes still were downcast though. "Richie, regardez-moi s'il vous plait," she directed with quiet authority. (look at me please) "You cannot keep running from things, Richie. Not your past, and not your emotions." She held his eye contact purposefully and it was all the teen could do to not squirm. "You cannot change who you are simply by moving to a new place, take my word on that." Finally Richie managed to nod and Tessa released him.
"It's not me," he said finally, willing himself to not look down. "It's everyone else."
"Including us?" Richie winced an intake of air and this time succeeded in diverting his attention to anything but the woman in front of him. He picked at the IV in his arm.
"I didn't mean that," he said, but he still didn't look up.
"Then what did you mean?" Richie couldn't answer her. "Did you mean Darius?" Once again Richie remained silent. "The watchers?" Tessa could take the silence any longer, so she decided to be direct. "You're mad at Duncan for going after the watchers," she stated rather than asked. "Because that's what brought you back to Seacouver." Richie released another long-suffering sigh.
"Darius wouldn't have wanted vengeance," he said, his tone detached and sad. "He told me once, after that business with Xavier St. Cloud, that death meant peace, and healing for our souls or some such. And I don't think it was his monk's robes talking." Tessa nodded. "But, at the time, I guess I figured that these watcher people were a threat to Mac, and he was just trying to figure them out, ya know?"
"You don't think so anymore?" Richie shrugged.
"I dunno, Tess. I guess… I guess, now that we know all about their little… secret society… life can return to normal—that's what we've been doing!"
"Is that bad?" Richie shrugged again.
"Life is back to normal, we're back in Seacouver, opening the store, you're working on your art…" Richie's voice trailed off. "And Darius is dead, and it's like Paris never was." Tessa nodded thoughtfully.
"So that's the reason behind your behavior of late? You wish we were still in Paris because of what Seacouver means to you?" Richie nodded, suddenly feeling very young and very foolish. "And you blamed Duncan for it," she continued, "because we all followed him, and he didn't bother to ask us what we felt." Richie's head turned sharply at the last.
"He didn't ask us," he said hotly. "He just up and moved, and then you went with him, and I'm not just going to stay in Paris when my family is going back to the states!" Tessa heard the misdirected anger still present in his voice at these facts.
"And he should have asked us," she said knowingly, "because we're family." Richie nodded. There was a pause in which each was waiting for the other to say something. Soon it drifted into awkwardness, and surprisingly it was Richie to be the first to speak.
"I was a real jerk…" he said, almost to himself. "You guys have been better to me than I could have ever dreamed. I had no right."
"Richie, you have the right to your emotions," said Tessa with a faint smile. "But you have to talk about them with other people. How can Duncan and I know what's wrong if you won't tell us?"
"I know," Richie agreed dejectedly. "I screwed up, I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize," said Tessa, smiling wider now. "Just… remember that we are your family, and we care about you and want to help you, and when you keep us in the dark we don't know how to do that."
"I should have been honest from the start," said Richie. "But with the whole watcher thing, and then Mac… I dunno. I guess I wasn't sure exactly what I was feeling."
"That's ok too, Richie," said Tessa. "You don't have to be omniscient. Just honest." Richie smiled at the statement.
"Well, honestly, nothing gave me the right to treat you guys like I did. Honestly, I should have spoken up instead of acting out. And honestly… I really hate how I always seem to have these conversations from a hospital bed." Tessa laughed.
"Honestly, Richie, if we had all been honest with each other in the beginning, this never would have happened." This time Richie laughed.
"Even Mac?"
"Even Mac." Tessa suddenly turned serious. "Richie, the reason I wanted to get here ahead of him was so that we could have this talk." Richie sat up straighter, listening intently. "He's scared to death that you won't forgive him."
"Forgive him?" Richie asked incredulously. He thought this conversation had been about all that he'd done wrong, not the other way around. Tessa nodded.
"He knows now how you feel about his avenging Darius, and about leaving Paris." Richie paled.
"He thinks I blame him?"
"You told him you did, in an argument you had after returning from Mrs. Burke's. It was after that argument that you went to Emily's grave." Richie was speechless for a moment.
"Oh man…" He croaked out eventually. "I don't remember." Tessa used every last ounce of will power she had to keep her speech neutral.
"You were ill," she pointed out. "The doctors must have told you about your delirium." Richie nodded. "Well, in that delirium, you told Duncan everything about how you felt. I think he's afraid to even look at you." Richie hung his head, tears pricking his eyes.
"Did I tell him everything?" He asked quietly. Tessa nodded gravely, and Richie's spirits fell even further. Now, looking back, he was able to get a handle on exactly what he felt. Of course, now after talking to Tessa, he was able to see his feelings in a new light. He was still hurt by all that had happened, but there was less anger, less blame. And a whole lot of regret towards his own behavior. Now it seems that he has told Mac… everything. If Tessa was correct, than he would have revealed how he had felt that his delusion of Mac and Tessa being different from his foster families was shattered. He would have shown Mac the hurt, and the betrayal felt at such a revelation. He would have shown his disgust. He would have said how he felt that their family was broken. He would have said it all.
And it looks like he did just that, because in his illness he had finally lost his self-control, right before losing consciousness and nearly losing his life as well. Richie still felt that Duncan was wrong to pursue Darius's killers for that fact alone. He needed to learn about the watchers, but it was for the wrong reasons that he went about it. He was still angry and Duncan for just assuming that nothing would be wrong with another sudden relocation. He was hurt that Duncan had taken his trust and friendship… and love… for granted. Oh, Richie still felt hurt, still felt betrayed. But also now he felt saddened at these events. Reality had finally decided to chime in. Mac and Tessa weren't perfect. Mac wasn't always right and Tessa wasn't always willing to stand up for her beliefs. That's the realization that hurt the most: that imperfection could touch even the most perfect of lives.
Mac and Tessa weren't perfect, and it was wrong for Richie to wish that of them. He knew that now. That realization caused the anger, and bitterness, to abate. Sure Mac screwed up, and Tessa went along to get along, and Richie was caught up in the flow. But really, what has come of it? Knowledge of the watchers, such as they are, which is necessary for survival. And they're back in Seacouver, where life will continue, much as it always does. Is it right to condemn this town because it isn't Paris? Or rather, is the loss of Paris the loss of something less tangible?
The loss of the illusion of perfection, that's what tasted so bitter to Richie. And that's what he blamed MacLeod for. His family was still his family, no matter where they lived. Richie had accepted that when he awoke in the hospital frightened and alone and longing for Mac and Tessa. All slights and quarrels were forgotten. The frightened boy that was Richie still longed for his… family… when all the lights went out.
Oh, they weren't his parents. As much as he wanted them to be and as much as he knew they wanted to fill those roles, they weren't his parents. He couldn't expect them to behave as such, and he couldn't be mad at MacLeod for failing at the task with his first error on the side of selfishness. His mistake was in the role of a father, Richie realized now. That's what he had been holding against Duncan. That's why telling Tessa the nature of his unrest of late was so difficult today. On some level, conscious or unconscious, Richie had held Mac and Tessa to the level of a parent. And when they failed in the task, the illusion was shattered, and Paris was abandoned for Seacouver in the process, and Richie was forcibly reminded of the truth that was so easy to forget on the other side of the pond.
Richie had felt these things, and then he had learned them, in the hospital, as he waited alone with nothing but his own thoughts in a now fever-free mind. As much as MacLeod was wrong in his actions, Richie knew that he too was wrong in his reactions. He knew that he should just apologize and be done with it, bury his bad thoughts away and forget he ever felt those things. But Tessa had forced him to reveal them, much to his chagrin. And now it seems that everything he didn't tell her, he had already told MacLeod.
In hindsight now, Richie knows that his betrayal was by far the worst.
"Richie?" Tessa snapped him out of his musings, and he looked up at her distractedly, as though he had clean forgotten she was still there.
"I don't remember what I said," he began. "But I remember what I felt." Tessa nodded in understanding. "You're telling me that Mac knows that stuff? That I said… things?" Tessa nodded again.
"You did," she said. "And now Duncan is using his run to try and come up with ways to beg for your forgiveness." Richie shut his eyes against new tears.
"I should be the one to do that," he said. Tessa shook her head.
"Richie, don't you see? There is no blame here. Both of you were wrong, and yet neither of you were wrong."
"So what do I do?" He asked, sounding in that moment truly lost. Tessa's heart went out to the boy.
"Well, we accept what's happened between us, and then we move on."
"We?" Richie asked, now sounding fearful.
"Yes, we," said Tessa. "Because we're family, and that's what families do." Richie smiled and nodded at that statement even as a few stray tears escaped to scroll down his cheek. Tessa lovingly cupped his chin and wiped them away with her thumb, much as she had done months ago when thoughts of family were shared.
"And families don't hold grudges," said Richie when Tessa released him. "So there's nothing to forgive."
"Exactement!" Tessa exclaimed, before enveloping him in yet another life-threatening hug.
"But I guess I need to talk to Mac," Richie said eventually when Tessa released him. She nodded gratefully.
"I think you two have a lot to discuss," she said. Then she looked at her watch. "He should be here any minute now."