AN – Sorry about the delay. RL is very, very, busy right now. But I'll update when I can.
Sarai – Glad you liked. The ending seemed too good an opportunity to miss.
Supernatural Chick - Thanks for the kind words. This is overall a pretty dark story, being the Gathering and all, but its also a story about the power of dark and light so you need to balance out the two a bit. Sorry, no more Fitz yet. But you will get other Richie and other Duncan very soon.
Tammi – Thanks for the review. You'll probably have more questions before this is all over, but hopefully this chapter will answer some of them.
Neoinean – I was just watching a documentary on the making of Live Aid last night and they showed Roger Daltery performing back then. Boy he looked so young!
Klingbohne – Well, you have your wish. Future Mac isn't dead. Well, not yet. (Grins) Thanks for reading.
SC – Hey, thanks as ever. Hope you enjoy the next chapter.
Ivy – Thanks for your comments. I quite like the idea of weaving everyone into the gathering. You get Connor in this chapter and next chapter .. well what can I say? Its gonna be crowded!
On a better day the drive back to Paris might even have been called scenic. In the summer tourists gladly escaped the heat and traffic of the city to meander along its narrow lanes, taking in the historic chateaus and picturesque villages. The smooth glassy river that made its way through the small valley to their right was a staple of the guidebooks for its clear blue sparkling waters dotted with little sailing ships.
Today it just looked grey and flat under the oppressively dark sky.
Which rather matched the mood.
For the third time in as many minutes Duncan took his eyes off the road to look over at Richie, who continued to stare out of the window at nothing. Once he was more suitably attired in jeans and sports jacket, Fitz had been happy to despatch his lady friend back to her husband and play the genial host. Which had pretty much entailed sitting back while Duncan cooked breakfast for them all. Not that Richie had eaten much. And now he hadn't moved or spoken since they had left the Chateau.
"You alright?" he asked, not really expecting an answer.
"When were you going to tell me?"
Duncan ignored the sudden lurch in his chest. The lad didn't know. He couldn't.
"Tell you what?"
"Fitz thought he was taking mini me to Holy Ground," Richie's tone was much too calm. "He figured he was leaving me with Darius until you could collect me. Something made Darius take me to the barge. Why do you think he did that Mac?"
"Richie."
"I'll tell you why shall I?" Richie turned to look at him, his eyes burning with intensity. "Because you realised you weren't coming back. Because you knew you wouldn't be around to protect me. And there is no-one, not Connor, not Methos, not even Amanda, who you would trust to take care of me as well as you could do it. You made sure I would only deliver that message to you and no-one else. So, again Macleod, when were you going to tell me you were dead?"
"Your Da's not dead."
"Stop the car."
"Richie, no. We have to talk about this."
Before Duncan could react Richie simply unhitched his seatbelt and opened the door rolling out of the speeding car and down the bank. Swearing profusely in Gaelic Duncan brought the car to a shuddering halt and tearing open his open door scrambled down the bank in his turn, desperate to catch the young Immortal.
"Richie, wait!"
Managing to catch the heel of one foot as Richie rolled to a stop, in the next instant he was reeling as Richie kicked him hard in the face, causing red blood to blossom from his now broken nose. Looking stupidly at the odd shoe he was holding, he took a second to swipe his sleeve across his face to mop up the worst of the blood, before taking off after the younger Immortal.
Who was making his way back up the bank towards the empty car.
"Oh no, you don't."
Determined not to be left stranded out here in the countryside Duncan sprinted up the hill, his longer stride giving him sufficient advantage to just catch the sleeve of Richie's leather jacket as he leapt into the driving seat. Yanking hard, Duncan pulled the blonde out of the car and straddled his prone body, effectively pinning him in place.
"Richie, will you just listen to me?"
Only then did he see how the lad's face was screwed up in anguish, the cuts and bruises from his fall out of the car nothing compared to the pain in his soul as the tears coursed down his cheeks.
"What?" He yelled, twisting in his mentors grasp. "So you can lie to me some more? If you weren't dead you would have come back by now. You wouldn't just have left me like this."
"Richie, lad. I swear, he's not dead," There was nothing for it but the truth. "But he's not entirely well either."
Duncan reached a bottle of water out of the trunk and walked back round to slide into the driver's seat beside his rapidly healing passenger who sat with his head tipped back and his eyes closed, resolutely ignoring the little blue flashes of light that fizzed and tingled around his body.
"Here." Duncan nudged him.
Opening one eye Richie accepted the water, unscrewing the top and taking a couple of mouthfuls before passing it back to his mentor, glancing apologetically at his blood smeared face.
"You look like you could use some too."
"Thanks."
Duncan drank some and poured a little onto a handkerchief to wipe his face over, trying to marshal his thoughts for the difficult discussion to come. Sure enough, Richie looked over at him and raised his brow in challenge.
"So?"
"Put your shoe on." Duncan stalled, passing him the item.
"He's dead, isn't he?" Richie answered, as he complied. Obviously determined not to be distracted.
"C'mon Rich. You know he's not dead," There had been no sign of a Quickening and the place had been tidied with everything squared away. "Can't we just leave it at that? When your Da's ready he'll tell you himself."
"No dice, Mac. If you're out there somewhere and hurting then I want to know. Would you leave me hanging?"
"Richie, I'm not him."
"You will be."
"And your seventeen year old self 'will be' Immortal. He's not now. If you'd met me in the 1800's I would have been different again. Who knows what I'll be like in another hundred years?"
"I do."
Duncan ignored that. "Look Rich, if your Da wanted you to know don't you think he would have found a way to tell you himself?"
"He left you a note didn't he?" Richie turned excitedly in his seat. "Some kinda sixteenth century secret Scottish clan thing, right?"
Resigning himself to the inevitable Duncan sighed. "Actually, it was more of seventeenth century French bronze figure thing."
"You mean the fencing dude on the table by the front door?" Richie remembered. "The one that was broken?"
Duncan nodded. Richie paled at the implication.
"It could have been an accident," He grasped at a straw. "Someone could have just dropped it."
"Maybe."
Richie knew as well as he did that solid bronze didn't break that easily. And the last time Duncan had seen that statue it had beenperfectly intact. If it had been hit with a random sword blow the damage would have been much more extensive. This was a precision job. His fingers had felt the saw marks were it had been neatly cut.
"Mac," Richie spoke slowly. "That figure was missing an arm."
Duncan started the car and put it into gear, pulling it back onto the road towards Paris before he answered.
"I know."
As they pulled up at the Quay Duncan looked over at the silent blonde. He wasn't sure what reaction he had expected. The loss of a limb was a traumatic injury for any Immortal, one of only a handful of conditions that they could not regenerate. But it was not in itself a death sentence. A skilled swordsman could learn to compensate. But that took time, which they probably didn't have.
"You okay?"
Richie gave him an unreadable glance as he climbed out of the car. His worry mounting Duncan got out in his turn and walked around the bonnet of the car, stopping the lad in his tracks, by putting a hand on each shoulder. Richie looked up at him, the pain in those blue eyes almost overwhelming, before he glanced away.
"This is all my fault."
"The hell it is," Duncan spoke fiercely, turning Richie's jaw so the lad was forced to look him in the eye. "If I chose to stand by you, it was because I thought you were worth it. I still do."
Desperate for a way to comfort him and not knowing the words, Duncan pulled him into a hug, holding him tight with all the love and reassurance he could muster. It took several moments, but at last Richie hugged him back, acknowledging his enduring place in the other man's affections.
"We'll get through this," Duncan assured him as they pulled back. "Together."
"Then, I guess" Richie dug around in his pocket and produced the little leather bag he had been carrying earlier. "You're gonna need this."
"And its not even my birthday," Duncan tried to lighten the mood, as he tipped the contents of the bag out onto his hand and held up the crystal on its simple leather cord. He did his best to hide his frown, this kind of new age jewalry wasn't really his taste, but he wasn't about to upset the lad. "Its .. um .. different. Thanks Rich."
"You do know what this is, right?"
Now that he looked at it, something about the crystal did seem familiar. Then it clicked. Amanda had shown him a piece just like this one once, which she had received from her mentor Rebecca. The legend was that those who possessed the crystal would achieve eternal life. Or something like that.
"Its one of Rebecca's crystals."
Richie nodded. "In the future, things get pretty intense. The days of going a century or two without taking a Quickening are long gone. Sometimes its two or three in a week. It gets hard, you know?"
Richie looked at him to see if he was following. Duncan understood only to well. Some Quickenings were easier to absorb than others, but they all took time. It took a while before you felt exactly yourself again. Pile too many Quickenings on top of each other and it would be harder and harder to keep that sense of self.
"The crystals act like a kind of conduit," Richie shrugged. "Don't ask me how, but when one of us takes a Quickening some of the energy gets stored inside of it, kinda makes sure we don't get our own circuits overloaded."
"Like in a Dark Quickening?"
"Hope so." Richie gave him a rueful grin.
"Then you need it more than me." Duncan tried to offer it back.
"I already have one," Richie dug around under his shirt and showed it to him. "So, do the others. I just .. , I want you to have this Mac."
Duncan drew in a sharp intake of breath. He knew what this was. It was a parting gift. Richie wanted to do his best to makesure that he was safe if the unthinkable happened.
"You're going to face him, aren't you?"
"I have to," Richie looked away. "Its time. And I'm ready."
"Then you'll have to go through me first." Connor's voice announced as he descended the steps from the road.
"Connor," Duncan watched as his mentor advanced across the Quay. "What are you talking about?"
"You asked me to deal with Ares," Connor shrugged. "I did. Problem solved."
"You can't kill him." Richie said flatly.
"No, but I could take steps to ensure that he wouldn't be bothering any of us for a good long while. Never fear lad, he's safely dead, he won't be harming you or yours anymore."
"Its too late for that. He already sent his goons to take out Mac and you can bet they sure as hell didn't play by the rules." Richie snapped.
Connor paled. "Duncan is dead?"
"Not dead." Duncan rapidly explained.
"So," Richie tipped his head on one side. "Tell me where he is. Cos, I'm gonna go give him a little wake up call."
Connor looked at him in sympathy, but shook his head.
"I'm sorry Risteard, I can't do that. Maybe in a century or so."
"What?""I can't let you fight him. You're not ready."
"Oh, trust me," Richie vowed. "I'm more than ready. And if you won't tell me where he is I'll just go ask Joe. I'm betting he has about a gazillion Watchers on you guys right now." He started to walk away only to be stopped by a vice like grip on his arm.
"I said," Connor spoke quietly as he put his hand meaningfully on the Katana. "If you want to fight him then you'll have to go through me first."
"Connor, no!" Duncan was aghast. "What are you doing, man? You can't challenge him!"
"If yon laddie thinks he's good enough to best a man like Ares, I should be no challenge."
"Aw, c'mon, Connor," Richie stepped back telegraphing his reluctance as clearly as possible. "I don't want to do this."
"Then don't fight Ares."
"You gotta see I can't do that," Richie shook his head. "I have to see this through. I owe it to Mac."
"Then you leave me no choice."
Richie leapt sideways, barely avoiding the swipe Connor aimed at his chest. Swiftly drawing his own sword and bringing it round in a defensive sweep he backed up, his eyes widened with sudden fear as he realised the Highlander was deadly serious.
"For God's sake Connor," Duncan tried to make his kinsman see reason. "Not here. Its broad daylight."
As if to prove his point the sound of clashing blades brought Tessa out onto the roof of the barge, her hand covering her mouth in horror.
"If the lad thinks he's ready, let him prove it." Connor attacked again.
"Killing me won't make me ready." Richie gasped, as he tried, only partially successfully, to avoidanother vicious slash. "C'mon Connor. Just tell me where he is. I don't have time for this."
"Connor, this is madness," Duncan implored. "You'll do him no service if you leave him too spent to fight the enemy. For the Clan's sake yield."
"Do you think Ares will show him any mercy?" Connor hissed through gritted teeth as he lunged again at Richie's thigh. "If he goes up against him now he'll die. If the lad won't listen to reason then maybe he can learn from experience."
"Well you know what they say," Richie countered, as he moved swiftly out of range of Connor's sword. "You're never too old to learn."
The move was so fast, and so smoothly executed that Duncan didn't see it coming. One minute Connor was on the offensive, forcing Richie back. The next he was standing very still with the point of the blonde's sword at his throat.
"This ready enough for you?"