Richie watched as the Stealth transport landed without so much as a whisper of sound, as it was meant to do. As the cockpit unsealed he raised an eye at the pilot's heavily embroidered robes.
"Nice threads. Hope I didn't tear you away from a hot date."
Connor Macleod disengaged the power and hopped out onto the sand before he answered.
"Only if you still consider the President of the United States to be, what did you call her? A salacious babe."
"The President," Richie stopped. In his need to talk to the elder Macleod, he had never stopped to think that he might have been busy. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting how high powered you are these days."
"Don't be, from your call I gathered it was important."
"You could say that," Richie looked over his shoulder at the Stealth. "Why do the military always have all the best toys?"
"Why are you changing the subject?"
"I'm not, not really." Richie ran a hand through his hair. Connor gave him a long searching look and then seemed to come to a decision.
"Walk with me."
They had gone several hundred yards when Richie could stand the silence no longer. "Its like this .."
"Walk, don't talk," Connor ordered sharply. "You'll never make it in the military if you can't learn to follow orders."
Richie supposed he shouldn't be surprised. That was the trouble with family. They knew you too well. Still.
"Who said I wanted you as my superior officer?"
"Well, you're too young to pass as mine," Connor smirked. "And no one else would put up with your attitude."
"What attitude?" Richie spread his hands defensively. "I'm being nice, whilst you, Uncle Connor, are being a pain in the butt."
"That's Uncle Connor, Sir, to you and you're still talking."
"I .." Richie began, then resolutely clamped down his jaw. If Connor wanted to play this game then he'd bite.
He had to admit it helped, the utter silence of the desert night soothed hisraw nerves and the vast, sparkling universe above, somehow made him feel less like the fate of the world was on his shoulders and more like a small cog, in a much larger, universal design.
"You don't have to do it alone." Connor's voice broke the silence.
"You know?"
"Duncan called me. And Amanda."
Not Methos then. Richie didn't actually voice the thought, but Connor saw it in the way his shoulders tensed.
"I would have done the same thing, you know."
"Which?" Richie's eyes flashed. "Hit me or left me?"
"In those circumstances? Both."
"Alright, so maybe I shouldn't have said what I did. But that doesn't change the fact that he left me," Richie swallowed, hearing the tight tone of raw pain in his voice. "I was just a little kid and he left me. How could he do that?"
"Probably for the same reason that he's getting ready to leave here now," Connor shrugged. "Because he loves you and he will cause himself any amount of pain if that's what's best for you." At Richie's sharp look he continued. "He raised you from a baby. Do you think it was that easy to just walk away?"
A smile played across Amanda's lips as she walked past the horse lines and caught the distinctive earthy smell. She had never understood why some people complained about the odour. Horses were such graceful, beautiful creatures, with those liquid brown eyes and adorable expressions; it seemed a small price to pay. Besides, some of her best memories were in stables, frolicking in the straw with some handsome beau. Or in earlier, harder times, when they were a rare place of warmth and safe obscurity for a cold and frightened child in a harsh world.
She blinked back tears the sudden flash of memory, borne too vividly on the rich, fruity, aroma, of the girl she was, huddled in the straw, a gnawing hunger in her belly and an empty place in her heart where love should be. She wished she could tell the child that love would find her. Rebecca would find her. And Methos.
"Amanda?"
The sudden presence of an Immortal caused her to turn quickly on her heel, aghast at having let her guard down so completely, only to relax in the next instant as she recognised the familiar voice.
"Methos," She looked at the figure emerging from the darkness, pack in one hand and the reins of his horse in the other. "You're leaving?"
"Its for the best." Methos turned away from her as he checked his girth and slung his over the withers of his mount.
"For him or for you?"
He stiffened and she knew she had hit a nerve. But he gave no reply as he put his foot in the stirrup and slung himself smoothly into the saddle gathering up his reigns to urge the bay forward. She put her hand on his thigh, realising that he could ride her down, but knowing that he would not.
"You know, you don't always have to put everyone else's happiness before your own."
He didn't deny it. How could he when she knew him so well.
"This isn't about me. It never has been."
"Just talk to him."
"Oh, of course. That will work." Methos retorted sarcastically. "I mean, look how well things well last time."
"Have you even tried?"
Methos pressed his lips together and looked out towards the darkness. He wanted to. God, of all the horrors he had committed during his life, the look on the face of one small boy as he left him to an uncertain fate burned in his memory.
"Maybe in a decade or two. He's not ready to listen to me right now."
"You don't think so?" Amanda smiled, as she sensed the buzz of an approaching Immortal.
Now he was here Richie had no idea what he was going to say. For once, Methos looked equally ill at ease as he slid off his mount and passed the bay's reigns to Amanda.
"C'mon sweetie," Amanda rubbed the horse's nose. "Let's go find you some nice oats."
As the soft sound of the horses hooves slapping in the sand faded away, Richie swallowed hard and opened his mouth.
"How's your nose?" Methos beat him to it.
"Its OK." Instinctively, Richie wagged the cartilage, even through he had broken his nose enough time over the decades to know that it healed perfectly straight every time.
"Not much of a birthday present."
"Yeah well, its not my birthday for another week or so. You've got time to shop." Richie stalled.
"Actually," Methos looked with mild interest at his left foot. "The authorities were a couple of days out on that."
"They were?" Richie looked up in genuine surprise. "I'll try to remember that the next time I get a new life."
Methos flinched at the caustic edge to his tone. Richie knew he was supposed to be trying to make things better. But after all this time, the certain knowledge that someone could tell him when his birthday was, when he first talked, got his first tooth, all that kid stuff, was kinda overwhelming.
"I need to know," Richie swallowed hard and tried to keep his tone even. "You left me. I was just a little kid and you left me. How could you do that?"
"It was easy," Methos shrugged. "After five thousand years you don't get attached to anything very much."
Richie gave him a sharp look, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I don't buy that."
"Really?" Methos arched a brow that clearly said, 'you could have fooled me.'
Richie supposed he deserved that.
"You gotta understand, all my life I always thought my Dad left me cos he didn't love me. I guess I never figured that he left me because he did."
Methos looked up, not for the first time astonished by the depth of human compassion this youngster was capable of.
"You were five," Methos excused him. "How could you know?"
"I should have, after all these years. Everything you've done for me. I should never have said all that stuff I did. You deserve better."
"Oh, I think I got far better than I deserved." Methos clasped his shoulder. "Rebecca would have been so proud of you."
"I wish I could have met her." Richie sighed.
"You look like her," Methos allowed. "Athough, there's a lot of your father in you."
"Do you mind? About Mac, I mean?"
"Only that he's annoying and insufferable. He has the right to be your father."
"Have you ever? I mean .." Richie hesitated.
"Had children? A few. When I was younger."
Richie wondered what the odds were of any of Methos children surviving this long. Not that great.
"They're all dead now, of course," Methos confirmed his fears. "Although, you met one of them."
"I did?" Richie started. "Who? When?"
"When you were still 'mortal'" You beat him at chess using a move I taught you."
"Darius?" Richie realised. "Darius was your son?"
"One of them," Methos nodded. "One of the few of whom I can be truely proud. The greatest measure of our children is how much they teach us. I raised him to be a warrior. From the age of twelve he fought beside me in the field. When he first changed, I washed my hands of him. What did I want to hear of his ways of peace. But in time, he helped me find myself again."
"He wasn't meant to die, was he?" Richie realised. "I mean, in the Prophacy?"
"Not like that." Methos answered shortly.
"So, it can be changed?" Richie pressed.
Methos gave him a level look. "All things can be changed, the question is, whether they will be changed for the better."
"You don't think not dying is better?"
"It depends," Methos answered cripticaly, slipping an arm around Richie's shoulder. "Come on, I need a beer."
"Out here?" Richie shook his head, as he fell into step beside him. "You'll be lucky."
"I was thinking we could 'borrow' Connor's ride."
"Or we could just behead ourselves and save him the trouble."
"It's a stealth transport, its not like he's going to hear us. Besides, we can be there and back before he even knows it's gone."
Richie considered that.
"You can drive." Methos offered.
"Deal."
…
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Duncan asked as he watched Richie pack up his few belongings.
"Probably not," Richie looked for a place to stuff his socks. "Connor is going to have far too much fun bossing me around."
"Then why do it?" Duncan asked lightly.
Richie knew there was more behind his question than Duncan wanted to admit. Much as Richie had admired the heroism in his elder's stories and admired their efforts to do what was right in times of war, he had never shown the slightest interest in joining the military before.
"You guys can only teach me so much," Richie rolled his shirt into a ball and squeezed it into a gap. "If I'm going to beat Ares, I need to learn to think like a soldier."
"Rich," Duncan waited until his son stopped what he was doing and turned to look at him. "I admire what you are trying to do, but don't loose sight of the fact that your greatest strength is that you are unique. That makes you unpredictable. Which makes you harder to beat."
"I'll try to remember that." Richie nodded. "But I still need to do this."
"I know." Duncan reached out and closed the bag for him.
"Besides, maybe I'll finally find out some of this secret stuff that Connor has been working on these last few years." Richie joked.
"Maybe." Duncan smiled. "But not tonight."
"Mac?
"You didn't think we were going to let you leave without celebrating your birthday, did you?"