AN – Many thanks for the reviews. Dani – you'll have to wait and see, but I do promise nothing in this is gonna "spoil" anything that comes after (I hope) Lori – Well, I gotta agree, it is a bit sickening that he's sooo good at everything, in 400 years he must have missed a few things!! Yellowvalley, my bad! I just got used to thinking of him as Walker. Beth, so much more fuzzy bonding ahead, I promise! (prob a cliff hanger or two also I'm afraid) And SC I hear you, I love you, I just don't always agree with you!
!!!
"Richie!," Tessa put her hand to her mouth as Richie limped through the door, leaning heavily on the Immortal's shoulder. Her eyes dropped to the tear in his jeans leg and the ragged edges dark with blood. Her eyes flashed as she turned on Duncan. "Whatever did you do to him?"
"It wasn't Mac's fault." Richie defended the Immortal, grunting softly as Duncan lowered him into a chair.
"Sorry." Duncan apologised.
"S'OK." Richie offered him a smile.
"Alright," Duncan quickly pulled the first aid kit out of a nearby drawer and dropped to his knees in front of the teenager. "Let's take a look at you."
Using the bandage scissors he deftly cut the teen's jeans leg away to reveal the painful looking gravel rash, oozing blood, that raked across his right shin.
"Mon Dieu!" Tessa exclaimed, turning her attention to Richie. "What on earth did you think you were doing?"
"I thought, I was making the turn." Richie quipped.
"And I thought you were supposed to be the expert at this?" Tessa challenged.
"Tessa, give him a break," Duncan spoke up, from where he was carefully dabbing at the abrasions. "Even the best riders can hit a patch of gravel now and then."
"It is too dangerous," Tessa declared. "He could have been seriously hurt."
"Yes, he could," Duncan retorted calmly, as he worked, quelling the protest that welled up in the teen, with a single, understanding, glance. "Except that, he kept the bike under control and did everything right."
"So, is it OK?," Richie asked, as he looked anxiously from one adult to the other. "I can still race on Saturday, right?"
It wasn't clear if he meant because of the injury, or Tessa's frowning disapproval. Probably both, Duncan surmised. He spoke up before the Frenchwoman could intervene.
"Sure," he agreed, as he finished cleaning up the abrasions. "After a nap and a spot of dinner and you'll be as right as rain."
"A nap? Yeah, right, Macleod." Richie shook his head in fond amusement.
"Uh huh. Until dinner."
"You're serious?"
"Totally," Duncan retorted calmly, as he packed away the first aid supplies and gave the teen a hand up.
"Won't that make the muscles go all stiff?" Richie tried to protest.
"You need to rest to recoup the blood loss." Duncan was unmoving, as he steered the teen towards the couch.
"C'mon Mac, I'm positively indecent here." Richie flapped the tattered remains of his jeans leg.
"Not if you keep still," Duncan countered smugly. "Besides, its better to let the air get at it."
"If I promise not to move. Can I at least watch, TV?" Richie asked.
"If you like," Duncan agreed, as he settled the lad on the sofa and passed him the remote. Personally, he thought the teen would last about five minutes before he flaked out.
"Mac, if you try to tuck me in, I swear .."
"Shepherd's pie for dinner, OK?"
"So long as you chop the shepherds up nice and small."
"Funny."
"Thanks for today," Richie murmured, still looking at the TV. Then he gathered his courage and turned to face the Immortal. "I had fun."
"Me too," Duncan smiled. "Now, get some rest."
Back in the Kitchen, Tessa had already started dinner was chopping the carrots rather more finely than absolutely necessary.
"Tess, he's fine."
"This time." She countered shortly. "Next time, he might not be so lucky."
"Trust me, luck had nothing to do with it. He really is good."
His tone stilled her knife and she looked over at her lover, a hint of amusement growing in her eyes. "He didn't?"
"Well no," Duncan admitted. "But if he hadn't crashed .."
"He would have won?" Tessa laughed.
"Its not like I have four hundred years experience at everything," Duncan admittedly ruefully. "There are a few skills, I haven't mastered yet."
"The great Duncan Macleod beaten by a teenager?" Tessa came over and put her arms around him. "How can your ego stand such a thing?"
"Maybe," Duncan nuzzled her neck. "You could think of something to restore my confidence?"
"Well, let's see .."
!!!
"Aw, c'mon, Tessa," Richie's voice drifted clearly out of the kitchen as Duncan returned from his run the next morning, "They're fine."
"They do not look fine." Tessa sniffed her disapproval.
"You're not making Mickey's ears pancakes again, are you Rich?" Duncan grinned as he leaned in to kiss Tessa, before catching Richie loosely in a friendly headlock.
"Maac! You stink! Get off me!"" Richie hooked his foot around the Immortal's ankle and tried to trip him. Duncan gave him points for initiative and let go.
"How's the leg?"
"Its OK."
"Uh huh," Duncan opened the fridge and helped himself to an orange juice. "And how is it really?"
"Hasn't dropped off yet."
"Richie." Duncan warned.
"C'mon Mac, I'm walking wounded, how bad can be it be?"
"With you, Rich, who knows?"
"Duncan, take a look at his shoes. They are entirely unsuitable for racing." Tessa returned to her thread of conversation.
"They were good enough the other day," Richie pointed out. "You know, when I won?"
"Does everyone race in trainers?" Duncan asked, already knowing the answer.
"Some people have boots. But its no big deal. And yes, before you ask, I always wear a helmet, Marco has a spare one I use."
"Does it fit?" Tessa challenged.
"You know," Duncan cut in, before the argument could escalate. "What you need is corporate sponsorship."
"Mac.."
"C'mon, Rich. All the big names have it. You said yourself, there'll be cameras there. You'd be doing us a favour."
"You wanna buy me stuff and I'm doing you a favour?"
"Do you know how much a 30 second ad costs on TV?" Duncan didn't want to give the lad the chance to deny him. "Besides, I'm sure there's something about this in your contract."
"Mac. I don't have a contract."
"Well, when I write one I'll be sure and put this in."
!!!
The day of the race dawned bright and clear enough, although summer showers were forecast. Richie emerged from his room, freshly showered and dressed in a faded T-shirt and jeans and carrying his bag to find Duncan slaving over a hot stove.
"Morning, Rich."
"Mac." Richie went over to the cabinet to look out a bowl. "Tess, get away alright?"
Because of her early flight Tessa had said her goodbyes to the teen last night. She had been adamant he shouldn't get up so he could be well rested before the big race.
"Yes, thanks. She left something for you." He nodded towards a small yellow package on the shelf.
"For me?" Putting the bowl down Richie picked up the package and read the card with a broad smile. "She didn't have to. You guys already did so much."
"She wanted to." Duncan assured him.
Richie tore open the package and held up the tooled leather bracelet in awe. "Oh man, that's so cool. She made this?"
"Well, since she couldn't be here .."
"Looks pretty good, huh?" Richie slipped the bracelet onto his wrist and held it out for the Immortal to admire.
"Taking the lady's colour into battle?" Duncan teased, as he set a full plate in front of Richie and took his plate to sit opposite.
"Um. I was just going to have cold cereal." Richie admitted.
"You need the energy." Duncan vetoed that.
Richie looked unhappily at the large portion of bacon, mushrooms, hash browns, pancakes and eggs, as his stomach did nervous flip flops. "Yeah, but .."
"Just try a bite." Duncan encouraged.
"Mac .. I'll be sick."
"C'mon Rich. Just one."
Resigned, Richie forked up a small portion of eggs and put it in his mouth. He chewed. Not so bad. He tried another small forkful. Then another and another.
"Better?" Duncan grinned, when his plate was clean.
"Yeah, much actually. Thanks."
Outside a horn hooted. Richie looked up. "That'll be Marco."
"A bit early, isn't he?" Duncan glanced at his watch. "I thought you said things started at 11."
"The track opens to the public at 11. But the competitors have to be there early to register and run practise laps and the like or they disqualify you." Richie reached for his bag.
"And on a Saturday, it can take an hour to get cross town." Duncan agreed.
Richie hesitated.
"Um, you do still wanna come, right? Cos, you don't gotta, I mean, not if you don't wanna .."
"Hey, I promised, didn't I? And Macleod's never break their word. I have my ticket right here." Duncan smiled and patted his shirt pocket.
"Well, cool." Richie's face blossomed in a rare, genuine, smile.
Outside the car hooted again. A little more insistently this time.
"I gotta go," Richie headed towards the door, then turned to look back, his eyes wide and vulnerable. "I'll see you before the race?"
"You can count on it, Tough Guy."
!!!
Three hours later, Richie looked at himself in the mirror. "Lookin' pretty good, Ryan." He grinned at his reflection, sporting the sturdy leather boots and shiny white helmet that the couple had brought for him tucked under his arm. He'd baulked at the additional expense of leather pants, claiming he wasn't gonna have the Store's logo emblazoned across his butt. The couple had already been too good to him, more than he deserved after he tried to rob them. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago.
If he won today, maybe he could start a whole new life on the pro-circuit. Except, for the first time, he wasn't sure that he wanted that any more. At least, not yet. He had a job here and a home and friends who seemed to care about him.
But who knew how long it would last?
"Rich," Marco appeared in the doorway, a worried look on his face. "Look, I'm really sorry but I've got to split. Sarah's gone into labour."
"But the baby's not due till next week."
"I guess, no one told him that," Marco came over and tugged absently at the collar of Richie's racing jacket. "You take care out there. Watch your knees on those turns."
"Will do." Richie nodded solemnly.
"You win and we'll name him Ryan."
"I'll hold you to that." Richie grinned.
Marco was on old friend. His parents had died in an auto accident when he was twenty one and Marco had taken over running his father's garage and raising his younger brother and sister. Richie had graduated from hanging around the garage and gawking with the other neighbourhood kids, to cleaning parts, tuning engines and finally riding the bikes that were the Mechanic's first love.
"I'd better go," Marco gave him a twisted smile. "Sarah will kill me if I miss the big event. I'll send Frankie over to collect the bikes after the race. You gonna be OK for getting home?"
"You know, you're gonna make a great Dad," Richie grinned, remembering all the other times Marco had worried about him, as a kid. An extra bowl of soup on the table for him, or a blanket left out on the couch. No questions asked. "Its cool. Mac's coming to watch the race. He can give me a ride."
"You sure he's gonna show?" Marco frowned. "He's not here yet."
"I know," Richie wasn't too worried. There was still 30 minutes until the race. "He probably got caught in traffic or something. He'll be here. He promised."
"Yeah, but .."
"No, honestly, it'll be cool. If Mac's says he'll do something. He does it," Richie assured him. "He'll be here."
"If you so say. I gotta go," Marco gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.
"He'll be here." Richie repeated quietly to himself.
!!!
"Riders, ready," Even with the PA system, the Steward's voice could barely be heard over the revving engines. Even as he jockeyed for position on the start line, Richie couldn't help but risk another glance towards the stands, but the seat where the Immortal was supposed to be was still empty.
"He'll be here." Richie repeated like a mantra.
The race itself, passed in a blur. The riders weaving in and around each other as the lead constantly changed in a cloud of dust that had the spectators craning their necks to spot the brightly coloured jackets of the riders, roaring their support and surging to their feet as the bikes crossed the finish line. Mac wasn't one of them.
"He'll be here." Richie promised himself. "He said so."
Almost, mechanically the teen went through the post race motions, his eyes constantly scanning the crowds, for the Immortal.
With no luck.
"Rich. Hey, Richie," Frankie came over and clapped him on the shoulder. "The bikes are all loaded. You sure you don't need a ride?"
"No, I'm good," Richie assured him. "Mac'll be here any minute."
"You sure? The dude already missed the race. Maybe, something more important came up?"
"He said he'd be here," Richie insisted stubbornly. "He musta just got held up or something."
"Well, alright," Frankie climbed up into the trailer. "But if he doesn't show, you call a cab or something, alright? You don't wanna go wandering about in this part of town."
"Hey, I grew up here, remember?"
"Then, you shouldn't need tellin'." Frankie grinned down at him as he pulled away with a wave.
Sinking down on the kerb to wait, Richie began to feel the events of the day catching up with him. Muscles that he didn't even know he had, started to stiffen and ache. He huddled slightly into his jacket as the adrenalin began to ebb and the light wind picked up and the afternoon sun slipped behind the clouds.
"Great, all I need now is for it to begin to rain," Richie cast a sour look up at the sky. "Don't you damn well dare."
Rooting around in his jeans pocket, he found a couple of bills and some loose change. Not nearly enough for a cab.
He sighed and looked at his watch.
Mac had said he would come. He would.
He'd wait a little longer.