Guard, sweep, high guard, parry, thrust. Ritchie continued through a series of maneuvers with his blade. He thought about Duncan, when he does this sort of thing. With Duncan, it's a kind meditation. With him, its just practice. Keeping the skills sharp. In fact, he was in the mood for some sparring. He would ask Duncan later if he was up for a few rounds. If not, maybe Methos or Fitz?

Restless energy. Can go stir crazy on this island.

Thrust, parry, retreat...

No...no...he wouldn't.

There was Darius. Who'da thought? He had a big brother that he never had before in the person of Duncan. And now, a little brother.

Darius.

The boy was smart, wow, so damn smart. He never missed anything that happened around him, either. And he didn't ask the kind of fluff questions most kids did. He asked deep, profound questions that, frankly, he sometimes felt inadequate about answering.

Example.

"Ritchie, what is the Quickening?"

"Uh...portable electrical storm?"

"What?"

"Well, that's what happens."

"Why?"

"It's all the power, experience and ability, the essence of an Immortal, released in a moment."

"Why lightning? And why don't mortals have this?"

"Dude...I don't know."

"Does Methos know?"

"I'm sure he's heard things. Has theories. But know, he doesn't know. None of us do."

"Why do you play the Game?"

"Why I play the Game? Because others are. And if I don't, I'll become someone's victim."

"They would want your Quickening."

"Yep."

No questions about why they would want it. He seemed to know.

"Do you want to be the One?"

Ritchie looked at the lad, who appeared to be about eight.

"I'm gonna slug it out. But do I want it? Hell, I don't know what being the 'One' means. All I know right now is, I want to live."

Darius nodded and seemed to gaze at a distant point. He then turned his gaze back to Ritchie and walked up to the Immortal, handing him a towel. He then touched Ritchie's thigh.

"Methos says you're it," Darius chuckled and ran off.

Fitz looked at Rebecca. The little girl blew a lock of dark brown hair away from her ghost blue eyes. She then concentrated on the rock in front of her. Beautiful rocks, a wide range of types. A natural geologist, she seemed to have the aesthetics of a visual artist.

She looked over at a spot in the dirt under a nearby tree, and Fitz could see her in profile. Her delicately turned nose, fine angles, soft lips, she was a beautiful girl. And given time, she was going to be an absolutely devastatingly beautiful woman. Which would be a matter of a couple of weeks, probably.

Which weirded him out. Very much.

Rebecca came back from the tree with another rock. She placed it in her arrangement and said, "I like patterns. Patterns make sense."

Not the sort of thing you hear from eight year olds normally.

"Well, yes, lass, they do. But I'll tell you, love. Not everything allows itself to be sorted into such easy patterns. Some things you just have to accept. The loose strings of our lives."

Most eight year olds would have no idea what he was talking about. But Rebecca nodded and said, "But isn't that what really makes a beautiful pattern? Movement? Dynamism? Motion? Purpose?"

"Well...I'm no artist, Becky, well, not professionally, sometimes, well... I think it's an interaction between the two. And what you are doing there..." indicating the rocks, "...is an abstraction. It's like a painting. You are capturing a moment of beauty. And beauty is truly one of the finest spices of life. Beauty in nature is life celebrating itself."

Rebecca nodded, chewing on that.

"And what about ugliness?"

"Well, sometimes that's in the eye of the beholder, luv. Occasionally, though, when it's the real deal, true hideousness, why, it just makes us appreciate the beauty that much more."

"Fitz, do you think I'm beautiful?", Rebecca asked, looking at him?

Fitz started, but said, "Lass, you are a lovely girl. And when you get older...well, Duncan will probably be more uncomfortable about you being alone with me."

Something about Rebecca just cut through the BS.

"Why? You wouldn't hurt me."

"Of course not, lass," Fitz said emphatically. "But...it's hard to explain."

Rebecca was silent, seeming to stare off into space.

"No, I understand," she said at last. She then looked at Fitz and said, "You have nothing to fear from me, Fitz."

She smiled sweetly.

"Ah yes," said Fitz, returning the smile.

But he knew, the clock was ticking. And at some point, things were going to change.

Somehow.

Static, Dynamic. And so many unknowns to deal with.

For now, though, he was big brother to a lovely, and very unusual little girl, daughter of a good friend.

Was it too much to ask it all to stay that simple?