AN: For this chapter and the next were done with the kind help of Lorilei and Aimless for the medical situations. MUCH THANKS TO BOTH OF YOU!!!!

AN2: I have been told that this chap is best read while not eating. The medical situations are not too graphic, but they are descriptive.

"You still think Richie's involved in this, Powell?" Duncan snarled, stalking past Powell's desk.

"He ain't here, is he?" Powell called after him.

Duncan stopped mid stride and turned around. "Why the hell would he be? He's somewhere scared out of his mind, being held prisoner, because of your men and their... their..."

"Our what?"

"I swear, Powell, the second I can, I am getting you fired. Who do you think you are? Why the hell would Richie do this to us?"

"Maybe he wants the money. Maybe he likes the attention he's getting for it."

"Maybe you need to take this case more seriously."

"Look, MacLeod, I know Ryan. The kid is no good. I would not be surprised at all to find him hiding out in some seedy hotel jerking off at the news coverage."

Duncan grabbed Powell put he collar and pushed the officer back into a wall from in his chair. Other officers jumped to help, but Powell waived them off.

"I'm just looking at the case from a different angle."

"Ass hole," Duncan spat before continuing on to Travett's office. "What do you want?" he demanded.

Travett had a very somber look on his face. "Mr. MacLeod. I have bad news."

"No... Richie's not dead, he-he can't be." Richie couldn't have died. He was immortal.

"We don't know for sure. But we have two John Does that match his description. I need you to come to the morgue with me and see if you can identify either one of the bodies."

Numbly, Duncan nodded. There was nothing he could do but play along. He followed Travett to his car and into the back door of the hospital. The pathologist took Duncan into the pathology lab and pulled two drawers drawing back one sheet, then the other. Duncan breathed a sigh of relief, despite his knowledge. Neither were Richie.

Richie wasn't sure what to make of all the muffled noises around him. He couldn't make anything out enough to figure out what was going on. Why had they moved him? What was wrong with where he was before? Sure, at first the blankets smelled better and were warmer than his room, but the blankets already smelled as bad as he did and all the layers were making it hard to breathe.

Duncan told Tessa what Travett had wanted when he got home.

"It wasn't him, was it?" she asked.

"No, it wasn't Richie. Wherever he is, he's alive. I know he is."

Collin watched the news with satisfaction as the reporter on screen explained the situation.

"Once again, the boy slipped out of reach when the kidnappers did not show up to the scheduled drop early Wednesday morning. The parents had taken painstaking measures to be sure that the Seacouver Police Department was no where near the drop site to assure that they could not foil their second attempt at getting their child back. Turns out the were measures taken in vain."

Mary looked at him from her seat in the corner of the hotel room. "You aren't planning on leaving him there, are you?" she asked.

Collin smirked. "Of course not... at least not permanently. We'll go get him in a day or so."

"What if he dies out there?"

"Not our problem."

"No, we don't want to do an interview," Tessa snapped, slamming the phone down.

"Tess, why don't we just unplug the phone?" Duncan asked. "Reporters are the only people who call."

"What if Richie calls?"

"Tess..."

"Duncan, the kidnappers have always made him write the notes, why wouldn't they make him call?" Duncan didn't answer her question. "He's alive, Duncan. I won't believe differently until I have no choice."

"Tessa, I'm not saying he's dead."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I don't know."

The second phone line rang and Tessa answered it before anyone had a chance to screen it. "Hello? Yes... do you have him?...oh, oh, yes....we'll see you there."

"Travett?" Duncan asked when she hung up.

"Yes. They found a boy that matches Richie's description."

"Which hospital?"

"St. Mary's."

Quietly, they both got in the car and drove across town. Duncan could tell Tessa was really worried that they were going to have to identify Richie. As much as he wanted to tell her that the only reason they would have to worry about finding Richie's body was if they found a headless body, he could jeopardize the secret. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to explain his secrecy for many more years.

They met Lieutenant Travett who took them back to look at the body. Tessa took a deep breath to steady herself as the sheet was pulled back. Laying naked on the table was a teen, with blonde curly hair and soft, pale skin.

Finally she found her voice to say, "It's not him."

They would repeat the process three more times in the next two days.

Richie tried to move...roll, sit up, squirm, anything. He felt some odd pain on his shoulders and arms, but he ignored it. He wiggled and tried to free himself from his poly-cotton blend cocoon. His dry throat let out a few grunts as he tried to work himself free. He yelped and tried to pull away when two pairs of hands gently pushed him back down.

The blankets were unwrapped from around his body and he heard muffled voices as he was lifted up and put on a soft bed. The voices spoke some more and he could feel his bed being moved like it was being carried then it settled down again.

The cotton was taken out of his ears and he heard a voice say. "Lets get all this tape off him."

At first, Richie was glad to feel the tape around his ankels being cut at and loosened, but when they started to gently pull it away it pulled at his hair and skin. He tried to kick the hands away, but a second pair held his leg still. They repeated the process with his hands, and the pain was just as horrible as they pulled the tape off his skin.

The car, which Richie was coherient enough to deduct was an ambulance, started to move and the hands started to cut at the tape around his mouth. Though he would be happy to be rid of it, Richie was not looking forward to the gag coming off.

Dr. Lindsey was talking with a nurse at the ER desk when an ambulance arrived and a stretcher was wheeled in.

"What is this?" Dr. Lindsey asked, looking at the young man on the stretcher, his cheeks red and swollen under a thick layer of grime, dirt and dust; his eyes were still covered with duct tape.

"He was found at the side of the highway bound and gagged. Looked like he had been there for a few days."

"Get him in exam room four! I want him started on a sodium chloride and dextrose drip right now." She issued the orders and she jogged along side the stretcher. "Hey, kiddo, can you hear me?" she asked the kid when they arrived in the exam room. "Is he awake?"

"In and out," an EMT answered. "He hasn't said anything, though he's fought us a bit."

She took his pulse. "Do we know his name?"

"I think he's that kid off the news."

"Richie?" She remembered the name off the flier that had been posted at every desk. "Richie, can you hear me?" she asked taking a pair of scissors off a tray of instruments. The boy turned his head ever so slightly at the sound of her voice. "Is that your name, Richie?" she asked him. He made a slight noise, and nodded his head a bit. "Nurse, get me some water and a lot of wash cloths, we're going to clean Richie up." Then to the teen: "Richie, I want you to stay absolutely still. I'm going to get this blindfold off you." She took the scissors and cut away the tape at his hair line, like they had done with the gag, not wanting to pull any of his hair out. Luckly she found a cloth had been put over his eyes before the tape had been applied, so the skin wasn't damaged or hurt by the removal.

His eyes were matted shut by his dry, crystallized tears. The eye lids twitched as he instinctively tried to open his eyes, despite the crust.

"Okay, keep your eyes closed. I'm going to wash your face then put some gauze over your eyes while we clean you up so the light won't bother you."

She set to work, gently cleaning his face until it was a soft pink. He winced at the contact. The soft washcloth felt rough and abrasive as it ran over his eyes pulling at the crust gluing his eyelashes, his raw skin and the pimples that covered his face.

"Okay, this is just to block the light out while we look at you," she told him, placing two gauze squares over his eyes then securing them with a gauze wrap. His hand weakly came up and tired to push hers away. "It's okay," she told him gently, grasping his hand. "I'm just afraid the light is going to hurt your eyes. I promise I will take it back off soon." She put his hand back down and finished wrapping the gauze.

"Dr. Lindsey..." an attending nurse said as he cut away Richie's boxer shorts.

"Can you get on your side for me?" she asked, helping Richie roll over. His voice meekly protested the movement not to mention the exposure of his body. His hands moved to block himself from view as much as he could.

He had dried, caked fecal matter from his waist that tapered down to nearly his knees.

"We're going to need a lot more towels. Get me all you can. This kid's a mess. And where is my IV?"

The nurse ran off to get towels and warm water. Dr. Lindsey started getting off what she could with the washcloths she had now. She had to frequently stop and move Richie's hands as he tried to push her way, or block her from touching him.

"Calm down," she told him gently. "I'm just cleaning up a bit." She took his hand and held onto to keep him from getting in the way, so he rolled onto his back. "Very clever," she said, careful to keep a smile in her voice. "The more cooperative you are, the faster this will all be over and you can get some rest."

An orderly came over and held Richie in position on his left side, then his right, Richie slapping at him intermittently the whole time.

It took them over an hour and a couple dozen cloths but they got Richie cleaned up and dried off.

"Now for the hair," she told him, gently helping him sit up. "Let's see what we can do with this." She took up the scissors again, had the orderly support Richie's upper body and began to cut away the tape that remained in his hair. "Don't give us any trouble right now," she warned him. "I don't want to accidentally cut you because you're moving around too much."

Richie tried to pull away when his hair got pulled by the tape. He jumped when the scissors nicked his scalp.

"She warned you," the orderly told him with a chuckle. After that, Richie leaned heavily on the orderly's arms and allowed his hair to be cut.

Duncan put down the phone and went to talk to Tessa, who was in their bedroom.

"What now?" she asked.

"That was Lieutenant Travett; we need to meet him at County General."

Tessa sighed. "I don't think I want to go. I can't take this anymore."

"Well, then can you at least help me pack some things for Richie?" Duncan asked. "They told us to bring him his toothbrush, some clean clothes and whatever else he may want."

Tessa looked up at him, hope in her eyes. "He's alive?"

Duncan smiled and nodded. "He'll be asleep when we get there. But he's alive and he's okay."