Richie Ryan groaned as he turned over in bed, and not just from the bright sunlight pouring into his room, or the large collection of bruises on his torso, that were rapidly taking on various hues of purple and black, but from the sure, certain, knowledge that yesterday hadn't just been all a dream.
Yeah, right. More like a nightmare. In Technicolor, no less.
It should have been the happiest day of his whole, entire, life. College had never really been an option, not for him. It wasn't like he had a trust fund or anything, and they didn't give out academic scholarships to kids who dropped out. He was too short and skinny to be much of a jock either. What with his Juvie record, and without a High School Diploma, even a regular job had been way outta his league. But racing. Now that was something he could do.
Racing was legal. He could earn money. Lots of money. It would get him girls. Real beautiful model type girls. And, most important of all, it had always been his ticket outta Seacouver. Away from those parts of his past that he had spent most of his waking hours trying to forget.
Except that, now things were different.
"Rich?" The soft knock on his door was followed by the Immortal putting his head around the door. "You're awake, at last, then."
"I'll take your word for it," Richie yawned and scrubbed at his face. He was still pretty wiped. "What time is it, anyway?"
"10.30. "
"You're snowing me, right?" Richie turned his head to look at the alarm clock over on the dresser, which he never set, because he was woken up, more regular than clockwork each morning, by the Immortal. He blinked. It was now 10.31.
"Jeez, what happened?" Richie looked back at the Immortal, Duncan never let him sleep this late. "Did someone die?"
The shadow that flashed across the Immortal's face made Richie feel like a complete heel. Of course, someone had died. That psycho Immortal chick and Mac had been the one to kill her. "Oh, hell Mac, I'm sorry, I didn't mean .."
"I know," The Immortal gave him a brief, tight, smile. "If you can make it to the kitchen in twenty minutes, I'll fix breakfast."
"Cool. Thanks Mac. Richie turned on his side and snuggled back down into the covers.
"In order to do that you do need to get up." Duncan commented dryly.
"Aw, c'mon," Richie rolled over, carefully, onto his back to look up at the Immortal. "I don't need twenty minutes to get from here to the kitchen. Two, tops."
"Twenty," Duncan corrected. "Because you're taking a bath first."
"Aw, Maac .."
"It'll help the bruises. Besides, you stink, Tough Guy."
"Hey, teenage hormones, here," Richie sat upright to glare at the Immortal, hissing a little as his various hurts made themselves known.
"A bath would help with that."
Duncan grinned to himself, as the muffled thump of a pillow hitting the wall, followed him down the hall. Time to put the rest of his plan into action.
!!!
Nineteen minutes later, Richie padded barefoot into the kitchen, comfortably dressed in an old pair of jeans and one of his favourite long sleeved T-Shirts, drying his still damp hair on a towel.
"Something sure smells good. Namely, me." He quipped at the Immortal.
"I'm glad to hear it. Take a seat." Duncan lifted the frying pan off the stove and brought the scrambled eggs over to the table, dividing them between the two waiting plates. Warm croissants, jellies, orange juice and coffee, were already on the table. Duncan returned the frying pan to the stove and had just put his hand into the fridge to pull out the chilled Champagne, when the doorbell went.
"You expecting anyone?" Duncan looked over at the teen.
"Who me? No," Richie paled slightly. "You don't think your friend had a friend, do you?"
"Maybe." Duncan closed the fridge and started walking towards the door.
"Whoa, no wait!" Richie shot to his feet and scooted around in front of the Immortal, grabbing hold of his arm. "You can't be thinking of going out there!"
"I have to," Duncan met his eyes. "Its what we do."
"Why?" Richie demanded. "Just stay here. They'll leave. We'll all keep our heads."
"I won't fight unless I have to."
"That's not real comforting, Mac."
"Richie .." Duncan sighed. This was hardly the time or the place. "Look, just stay behind me, OK?"
"What!" Richie backed up a step. "Whatever happened to 'stay here, Richie.' 'Don't follow me, Richie.'"
"Never works," Duncan shrugged. "At least, this way, I'll know where you are and I won't have to worry about you trying to sneak up on us to find out what is going down." He rolled his eyes.
"Funny, Mac."
"Hey, Ryan. Richie Ryan. You in there? Open the door, willya? I don't got all day." A voice drifted up the stairs.
Duncan raised a brow at the teen. "I thought you said you weren't expecting anyone."
"I wasn't .."
"Richie, if this is some irate father, angry because you've deflowered his daughter .." Duncan warned.
"Hey, I'm seeing Chrissy," Richie looked offended. "For, like a whole week now. We're practically going steady."
"My mistake," Duncan shook his head. "Stay behind me, alright?
"Right."
The pair made their way down the stairs and into the Store. Duncan studied the man, clearly visible through the glass door. Not an Immortal. He would have felt the buzz before now. And not in the best of shape, if the slouched posture, beer belly and double chin were any indication. As he was waiting, he was taking large bites out of a grease soaked paper packet and gingerly sipping from a steaming polystyrene cup, as he studied the window display. Duncan knew better than to underestimate potential opponents, someone had been watching the store these last few weeks, after all.
But still.
"Mac," As the Immortal moved towards the door, Richie tugged on his sleeve. "Watch out. That stuff could be laced with some deadly nerve numbing poison or something."
"It is. Its called caffeine. And you watch too many horror movies." He opened the door.
"I'm Duncan Macleod. Can I help you?"
"Harry Blake. How much is that vase?" Blake tipped his head in the direction of the window display. "I think my wife would really like that."
"About $10,000." Duncan told him.
"Whoa," Blake whistled through his teeth. "Who'd figure people would pay that much for second hand?"
"Antique," Duncan corrected. "But you didn't come to buy the vase, did you?"
"Not at that price," Blake shook his head, ruefully. He looked helplessly at his burger and drink, before apologetically offering the polystyrene cup to the Immortal. "D'you mind?"
Duncan gave him a look, but took the cup. If things turned nasty he could always throw the scalding coffee at Blake's crotch. From out of his jacket Blake pulled a sheaf of papers, which he proceeded to frown at.
"Maybe, I have the wrong address. I'm supposed to give these to a Richie Ryan."
"He's being served?" Duncan stood up a little straighter.
"What? No, nothing like that," Blake looked up in surprise. "Its standard policy. He has to get a copy within 24 hours of signing. Course, its Sunday so none of the corporate big shots who were dining in the fancy trackside boxes yesterday are gonna haul their butts across town for this, so here I am. Sign here, willya?" He held out a docket.
"I'm sorry?"
"Yeah, thanks man," Suddenly, before Duncan could curse him for his stupidity, Richie had reached around the Immortal, scrawled his signature on the docket and snatched the papers out of Blake's hand. "We really appreciate you coming all this way and on a Sunday too. Here's a ten. Maybe, you can start saving up for that vase."
"You're Richie Ryan?" Blake asked, looking at the signature. "You look younger than you did on TV."
"Yeah, well, you know what they say," Richie shrugged. "The TV adds ten."
"I thought that was pounds. Not years," Duncan seized the lad firmly by the back of his shirt and pulled him back, holding out his hand for the papers. "Let me see those."
"C'mon, Mac," Richie tried to hide them behind his back. "You want to stand out here all day? Breakfast is getting cold and you know how you hate your eggs when they go all rubbery and .."
"Richie."
"Look, we're probably keeping this nice man from his Sunday lunch. I betcha he has a wife and kids and .. and a dog, yeah definitely a dog, waiting for him. You have a dog, right?" he appealed to Blake.
"Yeah," Blake face softened. "Golden Retriever. Her name's Honey. You want to see a picture?" he offered eagerly.
"No, he does not want to see a picture." Duncan vetoed that, forestalling Blake reaching for his wallet by thrusting the cup of coffee back into his hand.
"C'mon Mac," Richie backed up a few steps, into the Store. "Its not like this is a big deal or anything."
"Not a big deal?" Blake laughed. "You just signed a contract with one of the biggest outfits in pro-biking. This time next year, you're gonna be a superstar, kid.
"Contract?" Duncan asked, his voice expressionless.
"Uh huh, five years," Blake nodded. "Well, gotta go. See you around, kid."
Duncan closed the door carefully behind him before turning to face the teenager.
"You signed a five year contract?"
"Um. Yeah." Richie shifted from foot to foot.
"Is this why you didn't tell me you won the race?"
"It wasn't ... " Richie paused. "You know about that?"
"Not from you." Duncan said coldly.
"Mac, I was gonna tell you." Richie said weakly.
"When? When you'd packed all your bags and were about to walk out the door?"
"No, Yes, I .. I don't know." Richie floundered.
"I thought you liked it here. I thought you were happy here." Duncan bit off the words.
"I do. I am .." Richie assured him.
"Yet the first chance you get, you can't wait to get out of here!"
"It wasn't like that .." Richie felt his own temper rising.
"Well, it sure as hell looks that way to me."
"How would you know? You weren't even there!"
"Is that what all this is about? Richie, I had no choice."
"I know that, don't you think I know that?" Richie clenched his fists as he tried to hold onto his emotions. "That just makes it worse. She could have killed you Mac. You could have been dead and all I was thinking was what a ass hole you were for not turning up. I called you every name under the sun, worse than any of my foster parents, cos I had been so sure you would show."
"Rich," Duncan sighed. "You weren't to know."
"Yeah, I should have. How many times have you shown me that you supported me in this? But the first time things didn't go exactly the way Richie Ryan wanted, this is how I repay you? God, Mac, I feel like such an idiot." He sank down on the steps, feeling the Immortal settle in beside him.
"So," Duncan nudged him. "Is this your version of joining the French foreign legion, then?"
"If that means did I think getting outta dodge would solve all my problems, then yeah. I guess I did," He looked at Duncan and gave him a rueful grin. "Besides, I was pissed."
"And now?"
"And now, its too late, Mac. I already signed the contract."
"Nothing is set in stone, Rich. What do you really want?"
"I do want this," Richie admitted. "I always have. But it didn't feel like I thought it would .. when I signed on the dotted line .. all I could think of was what I was leaving behind. I mean, I have a job now, a cool place to live, my friends are here and .. you guys .. I .. well I'd miss you guys."
"Then don't go. At least, not for a decade or so."
"What about the contract?"
"You let me worry about that," Duncan stood and offered him a hand up. "C'mon let's go and see about breakfast and then you can show me the trophy."
"The t trophy?" Richie stuttered.
"Yeah, you know, the big silver thing they give you when you win?"
"Um .. about that. I .. um .. don't have it."
"Don't have it?" Duncan frowned. "Why don't you have it?"
"Hey, I was mugged, remember?" Richie shrugged akwardly.
"I know," Duncan held his gaze for a moment and then strode towards the kitchen, leaving the teenager to trail in his wake. As they rounded the kitchen island, Duncan stepped aside. Richie gave a small gasp as he saw his boots and his helmet sitting on the floor. They had been thoroughly cleaned and looked as good as new.
"My stuff," Richie looked at the Immortal. "But how ..?"
"You know what they say about the early bird getting the worms," Duncan's tone was expressionless. "Funny thing is, they didn't know anything about a trophy."
"I never said they took it." Richie defended himself.
"You implied it."
"Alright, so I might have got a little creative."
"So," Duncan stepped up so they were eye to eye. "Where is it?"
Richie mumbled something.
Duncan blinked. Surely, he hadn't heard that right. "What?"
"I said, I threw it in the lake."