AN – Thanks to everyone for the reviews and feedback. If it wasn't for all of you taking an interest there would be no point in writing stories, so thank you. Hope you enjoy the next instalment.

Duncan sat holding Richie's hand and wished he knew what on earth to say to make things better. Except, he didn't. Nothing in his life had prepared him for such a moment. The lad was lying there, looking to him for support and guidance and he had no idea what to say. His one brief attempt at being a father to Kahani had been an idyllic summer of hunting and fishing. He'd never had to face such a crisis. He tried desperately to think what his own father might have said, but nothing appropriate came to mind.

"Richie .." He faltered. Lost.

"Hey," Methos voice cut in. "Bought you a present."

"Should I be afraid?" Richie rasped with a smile in his voice.

"Hold on," Methos ducked down and rummaged in his discarded coat. "Its here somewhere."

He emerged, holding a colourful paper bag, from which he pulled a small white, stuffed horse that he placed on Richie's chest, raising his hand for him so his battered fingers could stroke the soft fur.

"Snowy," Richie sighed happily, his fingers closing weakly around the little horse. "Thought I'd lost him."

"You remember what I told you about him?"

"You mean the bit about him being magic so he wouldn't drown when Mom put him in the washing machine?" Richie murmured.

Beside him Duncan heard Darius chuckle. Methos gave him a quelling look, before turning his attention back to Richie.

"Can you remember the other thing?"

"He means you love me."

The look of surprise that flashed across Methos face was Duncan's only clue that hadn't been exactly the answer Methos had been fishing for. However, he noted that the ancient Immortal didn't dispute the sentiment as he pulled out his flashlight and eased aside the linen bandages to peer into Richie's sightless eyes.

"You're never alone as long as you have people who love you. Maybe they can't be with you right now, but they're still out there loving you and doing their best to take care of you, even if .."

"Even if I can't see them," Richie finished for him. He clutched the little white horse a little tighter, taking comfort from its presence. "I guess if he can get me through the first day of kindergarten, he can do this, huh?"

"Good," Methos spoke with quiet satisfaction as he clicked his flashlight off "Now, how about a cheeseburger?"

"Not mouldy tea?"

"Don't you think you've been tortured enough for one week?"

"Are you insane?" Duncan hissed as soon as he could corner Methos out of earshot of the lad. "You'll not cure what ails him with stuffed animals and greasy burgers."

"But it's a start."

"Oh please. You can see he's in pain, not to mention scared witless besides. Do you want him to suffer?"

"I want him to heal."

"Then give him a bloody great draught of morphine and let him sleep until his body's done its work."

"And in two days time he wakes up as fresh as a daisy and we'll pretend that all this never happened?" Methos shot back, his eyes dark with scorn.

"Of course not. He'll need professional help." Duncan knew enough to know that horrific as they were the physical injuries were only the tip of the iceberg. The metal scars of being held prisoner, captive to another's thoughts and whims, would run deep.

"Your friend Burns, I suppose?"

"Why not? He's well qualified and its not as if the lad would have to hide his Immortality."

"He's also a total stranger, that's why not. Richie's never even met him. If you've learnt anything about him since we've been here surely you must realise he's not going to open up to just anyone."

Duncan opened his mouth to dispute that. The lad had been candid enough with him. Almost from the moment they met. Then closed it. Of course, Richie wouldn't see him as a stranger. He saw him as his father.

Except.

"He called you Daddy." He accused.

"I was married to his Mother for a time," Methos didn't meet his eyes. "He was very young. He barely remembers it."

Duncan crossed his arms. "He remembered the horse."

"Look Macleod, I don't want to fight with you over this. Not again. But you have no idea what we are dealing with here. I know Richie and I know Ares. And Richie doesn't always know what's best for him," Methos spoke tonelessly. "Once he's well enough he'll act like nothing really happened, we need to reach him now whilst he's still vulnerable enough to accept our help. That would be a little difficult to do if he was unconscious, don't you think?"

Duncan watched as Richie slept restlessly, expressions of pain and fear reflected on his battered features. Feeling like the worst kind of fraud he squeezed the lad's hand gently.

"Hey, hey, shh, its alright. You're safe."

Instantly, the blonde quietened, reassured by his continued presence. Duncan sighed. Amanda had come and soothed Richie's aches with oils, perfume and massage. Not to be outdone Tessa had produced a basket of tempting treats to help the invalid regain his strength, which he had apparently allowed her to spoon-feed to him, although not in front of witnesses. Connor had spelled her, producing a stack of superman comics that he read in soothing tones. At Duncan's raised eyebrow he had simply shrugged. He likes them. Even Darius had managed to find common ground over a chessboard, patiently spelling out the moves so Richie could visualise the board.

All he had done was sit here.

"Will you stop that?"

Duncan looked down and saw that Richie was not exactly looking up at him but at any rate conscious and awake.

"I wasn't aware I was doing anything."

"Yeah, you are," Richie made a move to sit up and Duncan reached out to support him as he settled himself with a grimace against the pillows. "You're doing that brooding thing again."

"How do you know what I'm doing?" Duncan asked, smiling in spite of himself. "You can't even see me."

The crassness of what he had just said hit him like a dousing with iced water. He sat slacked jawed in numb shock, wondering how on earth he could have been so thoughtless.

"Who needs to?" Richie titled his head in a manner that Duncan recognised as registering amusement. "Right now you're sitting there looking like someone slapped you with a wet fish. Just chill, Mac. I came a real long way to find you. You don't need to do anything special. Just .. be yourself."

The catch in the blonde's voice almost undid Duncan. Richie had borne the considerable discomfort from his injuries stoically with little more than a murmur. The show of vulnerability spoke volumes.

"I just want to help."

"Well, there is something you could do," Richie glanced up hopefully. "And before you say no, just hear me out. Please?"

"This is madness," Duncan hissed. He had no idea how he had let himself be talked into such foolishness. "You should be resting."

"C'mon Mac," Richie tried hard to disguise the wince of pain that passed across his features and almost succeeded. Almost. "I've been hanging around for the last week. I need to get out some."

"Richie." Duncan rolled his eyes at the dreadful pun. "How you ever lived to be a hundred .."

"See," A ghost of a smile settled across Richie's features as Duncan settled him more comfortably into the front seat of the Citroen. "You know me better already. You say stuff like that all the time."

"If this is your idea of a good plan I can well believe it," Duncan closed the passenger door and walked around to get in on the driver's side. He looked across at the chalk white features. "You alright?" he asked gently.

"I will be." Richie nodded.

"Alright," Duncan put the car into gear and let the Citroen roll gently forward so as not to further damage his precious cargo. "Its not far."

"I know."

"And you're to go straight to bed when we get there."

"Or I could just hang out on the couch for a bit," Richie suggested innocently. "You'd be able to keep a better eye on me that way."

Duncan laughed aloud. This lad was a real piece of work and he knew exactly which buttons to press.

"Aright," he conceded. "You want to order in something for dinner? There's an excellent Italian restaurant that delivers. Or we could get Chinese?"

"Um." Richie hesitated.

"What?" Duncan glanced over at him. "I think there's some leftover pasta sauce in the freezer." He joked.

"Yeah? That would be really great."

"Really?" Duncan swallowed his surprise as a suspicion formed in his mind." We could get a video and some popcorn too, if you like." He offered.

Riche smiled shyly. "Just like old times."

Duncan gently applied the brake and put the car into neutral as he coasted to a stop in front of the barge. He carefully applied the handbrake and took the key out of the ignition before he replied

"Welcome home, Rich."

"Are you sure this is alright?" Tessa worried as she dug around in the linen closet for extra blankets and pillows. "He looks so pale. Perhaps the journey was not good for him?"

"He's Immortal, Tess. It can hardly kill him and who knows, being here might just help."

"And the others agreed?"

"Darius helped me carry him to the car and Connor and Amanda have gone back to the Hotel to make room."

"And Methos?" Tessa gave him a knowing look.

Duncan paused. The ancient Immortal hadn't actually been there, having left on something he called Watcher business and that Connor termed when asked to translate, damage control. To be frank Duncan was getting tired of being kept out of the loop. Richie had come all this way for him. Richie had given himself up to Ares for him. If there was something in his power that he could do for him he wasn't about to deny him.

"We're all on the same side here, Tess."

Or at least he hoped so.

For his part Richie was remarkably patient as they made him comfortable with a mound of pillows and blankets on the couch. Duncan even had a sneaking suspicion that he was enjoying all the fuss. Then again, what wouldn't he give to go back in time and be fussed over by his parents? Lord knows there were times when he had sorely missed it. Despite how he had protested at the time.

"Are you comfortable?" Tessa stepped back surveying the results with a critical eye. "It is not too much?"

Richie smiled. "If you think this is bad, you should have seen yourselves when I broke my ankle ski-ing. You went out and bought a new footstool!"

"This is not fair," Tessa protested, laughing. "You know us so well, but we hardly know you at all."

"So, ask me," Richie offered. "Whatever you like."

"You should be resting," Duncan chided. "I promise Darius you would. It was the only way he would agree to my kidnapping you."

"Hey, I volunteered. Besides, I'm just lying here. See, me lying here? That's resting. And they say laughter is the best medicine, right?"

Duncan gave him an impassive look. The lad knew he too well. He wondered if he had always been able to wrap him around his little finger. "Maybe I should get Methos over here to keep you in line? Or Connor?" he threatened as sternly as he could.

Which wasn't very to be true.

"You'd have better luck with Amanda," Richie grinned. "She can be very persuasive."

"Amanda?" Duncan blinked. "You don't mean? You and her?"

"See? You know you wanna ask."

"Richie." Duncan lowered his voice dangerously.

"Ten questions each," Richie bargained. "Then I'll take a nap. Honest."

"Five." Duncan countered.

"Nine."

"Wanna make it four?"

"Alright then," Duncan paused in the act of lifting a forkful of pasta to his mouth. Now that the moment was at hand he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. Not everything anyway. "How did we meet?"

"You were running an Antique Store in Seacouver. I tried to rob you and ended up in Immortal central. Afterwards you gave me a home and a job."

"How old were you?"

"I was sixteen, course, I told you I was seventeen but you called me on it soon enough."

"What about your parents?" Tessa put in. "Weren't they worried about you?"

"I mostly grew up in foster homes," Riche shrugged. "You guys were my first real family in the longest time."

"Alright," Tessa decided to lighten the mood. "What is your favourite food?"

"Chocolate cake." Richie answered promptly. "We used to have it for breakfast all the time."

"All the time?" Duncan challenged.

"Well, special occasions. But we had a whole lot of 'em."

"What is your best memory of living with us?" Tessa asked.

"Oh man," The pause was gratifying, indicating that the lad had a wealth of good memories to choose from. "My eighteenth birthday. We were living in Paris at the time so you guys arranged to take me to Venice. It was so awesome. I never expected. Then we had dinner at this little café and you gave me this portrait of me in St Mark's square. God, I looked so happy. Then Mac gave me this watch." He paused.

"This watch was special to you, non?" Tessa asked.

"It was one of the things I'd tried to rob that first night, it was worth a whole lot, I never thought I'd ever own anything so beautiful. Mac said .. he told me I'd earned it."

Try as he might, Richie struggled to keep his eyes open. The comforting bustle of Mac and Tessa clearing away the dinner dishes was so normal and familiar that he was lulled to sleep by the sound of her lilting tones and his reassuring baritone. Even so, he came awake with a start, still not quite trusting that his memories weren't just some product of his fevered imagination.

"You're alright." Duncan's voice soothed from close at hand.

"Well that's just fine," Richie turned his head. "Except, it still hurts."

"If you were mortal you'd be dead, several times over. Just give it time. You'll be fine."

"I guess," Richie flexed, gingerly testing out sore limbs and muscles. He was healing. Just not fast enough in his opinion. He lay quietly cataloguing the sounds and smells around him. "Tessa making coffee?"

"It'll be ready in a minute," Duncan agreed. "You're managing pretty well."

"I had a good teacher," Richie smiled at some memory. "Who knew you could see so much with your eyes closed, huh?"

Duncan nodded, recalling his own early lessons. How he'd scoffed when Connor had tied a blindfold over his eyes and told him to fight him, countering that his teacher may as well have done with it and tie one hand behind his back as well. Connor's answer had been a painful slice across his abdomen. So, he'd learnt. That scent could tell you where a man was, sound could tell you when he moved and vibration could tell you how far and how fast. It wasn't exactly like seeing in the dark. But it wasn't helplessness either. He supposed he had been the one to teach Richie the same lessons. He hoped he had been kinder than Connor.

"You were very young when you died."

"Wasn't your fault," The negative came swiftly. "It wasn't anyone's fault. Not even the guy who did it. It just happened."

"We stayed in Seacouver?"

"And Paris off and on. Until I was in my twenties, then we moved out to Montana to raise horses, 'course you had to teach the city boy to ride first."

"Montana? I must have done some pretty fast talking to get Tessa to agree to that. I mean, she grew up with horses, but she's used to Europe. Things are far more compact here."

"Oh yeah," Richie winced at some healing twinge, Duncan supposed. "This is a whole other country."

This time Richie closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He didn't think that Duncan was fooled, but the soft murmur of conversation and retreating footsteps told him that the Scot had taken the hint and given him some privacy anyway. Only Tessa's perfume hung in the air as she pretended to be occupied in the galley in case he should need anything.

He wanted to cry. But Ares had robbed him of even that. His eyes itched and burned and his throat tightened, but the tears couldn't come. He had gained so much in his life, but at such great cost. He really hoped it would all be worth it.

"Duncan and I will be going to bed soon. I made some hot chocolate," Tessa's voice offered gently. "Would you like some?"

"Does it come with whipped cream and marshmallows?"

"Of course. Is there any other way?"

He let her help him sit up and guide his hands around the thick pottery mug, much better for his battered hands than a china cup, smiling as he sipped the sweet concoction and remembering how many times she had soothed his teenage nightmares exactly like this.

"I suppose we have done this before." Tessa offered.

"A few times." Richie agreed.

"I cannot imagine the life you describe," Tessa sounded pensive. "To leave Paris and all my friends and family to start a new life, so far away. It seems so strange. Did I like Seacouver?"

"Yeah. You missed your family sometimes, but you made lots of new friends and you got pretty busy with commissions and stuff."

"They liked my Art?" Tessa sounded pleased. "The American market is very discerning. It is really difficult to break into."

"Tess, they loved your stuff. Right after I moved in, they asked you to make this really prestigious sculpture for the city. You had me and Mac turning it this way and that to get it sited exactly right and I'm telling you that thing was solid. After that you were famous."

"They say no artist truly finds fame until they are dead. But then I suppose in your time I am already dead, non?"

"Tessa." Richie hesitated.

"Just tell me this," Tessa insisted. "I have always worried that when I am old and grey Duncan would stay with me out of duty. I need to know. Was I able to make him happy? Right until the end."

"Always," Richie replied truthfully. "He never loved anyone like he loved you."

Duncan loaded the last few dishes into the dishwasher and set it to run, wiped down the draining board and eying the full bin, decided to take the trash out before he retired. Deftly tying the top off the trash bag, he shrugged into his coat and wary of the present danger, checked his sword was in place, before slipping out the door by the wheelhouse and striding across the quay towards the large municipal bins.

He was just closing the lid after depositing the trash when he felt the buzz.

"Who's there?" he called, looking around.

"What the hell were you thinking, Macleod? Taking him off Holy Ground like that?"

Duncan turned to see Methos standing right behind him, his eyes dark and flashing.

"I'm just as Immortal as you are, remember? I can protect him."

"Ah, of course," Methos nodded dangerously. "Just like you did the other night?"

The barb hit home. Richie had rescued him first. The lad would never have been so vulnerable if it wasn't for him. But still.

"Look, I was just trying to do what was best for him. He wanted to come home."

"And who are you to know what is best for him?" Methos scoffed. "You've only known him five minutes."

"I told you. He asked for this."

"And I told you, Richie doesn't always know what is best for him," Methos stepped up, pulling the Ivanhoe and pressing it against Duncan's chest hard enough to rip the fabric of his shirt. "I on the other hand have spent five thousand years and sacrificed more than you can even imagine to bring that child safely to this point. I will not allow you to jeopardise that, just so you can play at happy families."

"Look, just because you couldn't make it work .."

Duncan's words suddenly halted as he felt the sword pressed up against his throat.

"This is not about me," Methos hissed. "This isn't even about you. This is about Richie."

Duncan felt his mouth go suddenly dry. The man standing in front of him was at least five thousand years old. You didn't get to live that long without being skilled with a sword. To the best of Duncan's knowledge the eldest Immortal he had ever bested had been less than a quarter of Methos' age.

"Not here," Methos decided. "Over there. Under the bridge."

Oh Lord. He intended to challenge him. AndDuncan wasn't at all sure that he could win.