AN- Sorry for the long delay, but it is a long chapter and just in case you wonder when you get to the end, there is another chapter after this!
Macleod swallowed hard as he caught sight of traces of blood on Ares' sword. It couldn't be. In a voice he didn't recognise as his own he forced the word out over the lump in his throat.
"Connor."
Ares smiled, a thin, deadly, smile.
"I told you what would happen if you went after my friends." Richie's voice was like ice.
"Did you?" Ares tipped his head, considering. "It must have slipped my mind. Of course, that could be because you and I have never actually met before. Unless you count that day in the candy store."
"You. Me. Now." Richie hissed, raising his sword into a ready position.
"Of course," Methos stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked up at the ceiling. "Connor's not actually dead. A Quickening that strong would have brought the house down."
A frown marred Ares' features, as if he hadn't expected his audience to be that perceptive. It was quickly replaced by a sneer. "Let's just say I wanted to repay some of his hospitality first." Ares nodded at his future self's injured body.
"Where is he?" Macleod growled trying not to think of the tortures this man might be inflicting on his kinsman.
"Does it matter? He'll die anyway, when I win."
"When you win?" Richie raised a brow in the direction of the future Ares' still inert corpse. "You really think he's big on sharing?"
"I have waited millennia for this," Ares shrugged. "What's another hundred years?"
"Or we could make a deal."
"What could you possibly have to barter that I would have any interest in?" Ares scoffed. "Or were you going to offer me your head?"
"Actually, I was going to offer you your head," Richie nodded at the corpse. "Think about it. This way you don't gotta wait. You just take his head and it's like the next hundred years already happened."
"And while I am weak from the Quickening, you take my head. Do you think I am such a fool?"
"Your head for Connor's. Tell me where he is and I'll leave. We all will."
"What is to stop me challenging you now?"
"Because you might lose." Methos murmured.
Ares looked across at the corpse, obviously tempted. Richie wandered over and pulled out the Ivanhoe, wiping the blood off on the corpse's expensive cashmere coat, before handing it politely back to its owner.
"Clock's ticking," Richie looked at his watch. "Guy of your age. Simple chest wound. We've got what? A couple of minutes before he's all healed? Gonna be a little tricky to explain if he wakes up to see you holding a sword over his head."
"Very well," Ares decided. "Your kinsman is locked in the boot of his hire car." He tossed a bunch of keys at Richie, who deftly snagged them out of the air and passed them to Methos, who nodded his understanding and took the stairs two at a time to check if Ares had indeed been as good as his word.
"So cynical for one so young." Ares sneered.
"From you, I'll take that as a compliment."
"I have him." Methos quickly reappeared in the doorway.
"Is he unharmed?" Macleod growled.
"Unharmed, dead, same thing really," Methos shrugged. "He's still in one piece."
"I believe that's your cue to leave." Deliberately, provocatively, Ares smiled and turned his back as he pulled out his sword. Richie hesitated, his fingers curling around the hilt of his sword. It would be so easy to just take his head when he wasn't looking. Except, he knew that was exactly what Ares wanted. Attacking before the challenge was issued was a sure fire way to tip the Prophecy in Ares' favour and Richie wasn't about to start playing into his hands. Slowly, reluctantly, he uncurled his fingers.
"C'mon Tough Guy, let's get out of here." He felt Macleod's approving hand on his shoulder.
As they ascended the stairs the first rumblings of a Quickening gathered beneath them.
"You'd think he'd have been bright enough to move out of the cellar first." Macleod observed.
"You think maybe the building will fall on him?" Richie asked hopefully.
"I think," Methos smiled as he pulled out a small egg like object from his pocket, which he pitched down the staircase. "It could be arranged."
They decided to make their way back to the barge before pulling the dagger from Connor and allowing him to revive.
"No sense in getting blood on the seats." Methos had observed. Duncan, with Slick hovering behind him, met them on the Quayside, his face tight with worry.
"Connor's missing."
Methos quickly brought them up to speed as he walked around to open the trunk, putting the key in the lock he looked around. "Where are the others?"
"Please tell me you didn't let Amanda take Tessa shopping with my credit card." Macleod groaned.
"Don't worry. You assets are safe enough," Duncan grinned. "I wasn't sure what was happening so I asked Amanda and Rebecca to take Tessa to Darius, for safety. I wanted Slick to go but .." he looked sheepish.
"Looking after Slick is your job." Macleod nodded his understanding.
"And it's always better to keep him close so you can see how much trouble he's getting into." Methos added.
"You guys," Richie looked from one to the other laughing. "Face it, Mac, he flashed those baby blues at you and you caved. Big time."
"I guess you'd know." Duncan agreed.
They all fell silent as Methos popped open the trunk, Slick looked at the body for a long moment before he could find his voice.
"He's really dead?"
The guy sure as hell looked dead. His face was white as chalk and his eyes, staring open, as if caught by surprise, were glassy and empty. Around his jeans was a dark, foul smelling, stain where his body had relaxed its natural functions.
"All you gotta do is pull out that dagger and he'll wake right up. Pretty incredible, huh?" Richie smiled kindly at him.
"Yeah, right." Slick looked warily at the body, clearly not convinced.
"Go on then," Richie encouraged. "Pull it out."
"Me?" Slick squeaked, then looked up at Duncan. "Can I?"
Duncan smiled down at him. "Sure, why not."
"Oookay," Taking a deep breath and seizing the hilt of the dagger in both hands, Richie tugged hard, it shifted a little way and then stopped, so he spread his feet and got a better grip and gave an almighty yank that would have sent him tumbling backwards as the dagger suddenly slipped free, if Duncan hadn't steadied him with a hand.
"Thanks," Richie grinned at him, before looking at the long, vicious, dagger in his hand. "Wow."
"Give me that." Duncan shook his head fondly at him.
They all turned their attention back to the trunk as a low moan announced Connor's return to the living.
"He's gonna be mad as hell, isn't he?" Richie winced.
Macleod gave him a sharp glance. "Rich, none of this is your fault. Connor knows that."
"Oh and being killed always puts him is such a nice, understanding, mood."
"Shit." Slick swore and took three steps back as Connor's blue eyes snapped open.
To everyone's surprise Connor face immediately split into a broad grin. Eschewing Macleod's offer of a hand he practically vaulted out of the trunk. "Risteard! You did it, lad!"
"Umumpf," Richie replied as he was enveloped in a huge bear hug. "Um, yeah, I guess so."
Pulling back and holding him at arms length, Connor continued to regard Richie with such grinning delight that Macleod began to wonder if his characteristically restrained and dour kinsman hadn't taken a knock to the head.
"Lord knows, I had my doubts, it didn't seem right, sending a slip of lad to face someone like Ares, but by God you've done me proud laddie. You've done us all proud."
"Um, Connor." Richie was at a loss.
"So, how are you feeling?" Connor looked him anxiously up and down. "Any after effects from the Quickening?"
"Connor. I didn't kill Ares," Richie realised with an embarrassed shrug. "Either of them."
The elder Scot froze, his eyes going hard as flint.
"Let me get this clear," he hissed. "This man is responsible for centuries of pain. There isn't a single person you love who hasn't suffered at his hands. He tortures you. Attacks Amanda. Mutilates your Da. Has one of his cheating flunkies kill me like a bug and you have him tied up at your mercy and you still didn't take his head?"
Duncan straightened at the look of loss and pain the words put on Richie's face. His head bowed and he didn't even attempt to defend himself.
"For Lord's sake, be reasonable, Connor." Duncan spoke up, the words dying in his throat as his kinsman's fist flashed out and knocked Richie to the ground.
"Connor, what the hell .." That was Macleod, dropping to his knees, to check the blood seeping from Richie's split lip.
"You bastard," Slick raced forward and shoved the surprised Immortal as hard as he could, before he began to pummel on his chest with his fists. "He just saved your sorry butt."
"Slick, take it easy," Duncan reached in and hauled the lad back by his jacket. Even in his anger he didn't think Connor would attack a defenceless child, but he didn't want the boy to harm himself unnecessarily. "Calm down. I'll deal with this."
The boy looked up at him, his desire to trust warring with the anger and suspicion in his eyes.
"Come on," Duncan took him by the shoulder. "You too." He looked across at Connor, his cold tone leaving no room for argument.
Leaving Macleod and Methos to tend to Richie, Duncan took Slick into the salon and led him to a chair, pausing a moment to pick up one of the lad's hands, noting how the boy stiffened and bite his lip as he gently ran his thumb over the bruises forming on his knuckles.
"Looks pretty sore."
"Its okay." Slick shook his head.
"If you're going to lead with your fists, turn your hand this way," Duncan demonstrated, gently swivelling the boy's wrist around. "You'll get less bruising that way."
He straightened up, intending to get some ice for the swelling, but hesitated when he saw the tense, angry, movements with which Connor poured himself a drink, throwing it down his throat in a single shot.
"What is wrong with you?"
"He deserved it, Duncan."
"Yeah," Slick muttered darkly, his eyes downcast. "That's what they all say."
"Slick, why don't you go and get some ice for that bruising before it swells?" Duncan suggested, noting with some satisfaction the way his kinsman shifted his eyes and looked uncomfortably away at the vivid description of the boy's injuries.
"I never meant to harm the lad." He muttered, when Slick had left.
"I'm sure Richie will be glad to hear that," Duncan deliberately misunderstood him. "You didn't even see who killed you, did you?"
"I didn't need to. I know Ares was behind it."
"Ain't that the truth," Slick scoffed from the doorway, one hand now wrapped in an ice filled towel. He stepped back quickly as both Immortals glared in his direction. "Sorry, forget I'm even here."
"Come in and sit down and be quiet." Duncan rolled his eyes, before returning his attention to his kinsman. "Connor, Ares was the one who killed you."
"That's nonsense. Ares was right in front of .." Connor trailed off as realisation struck. "Oh."
"What would you have done Connor?" Duncan pressed his point. "If Richie had done what you wanted and killed Ares when he was still in chains, he would still have been weak from the Quickening and utterly at the mercy of Ares' younger self when he arrived. Lord knows, I wouldn't put it past them to have planned exactly that. At least this way he only has to face one of them and it'll probably take Ares at least a week to assimilate a Quickening like that."
"He won't wait that long." Connor's tone was flat.
"Let's hope not." Duncan smiled thinly.
Connor sank, deflated, into a chair as the full meaning of Duncan's words penetrated. If Ares was still disorientated when he came for Richie the chances were he'd be more easily distracted and the lad would at least have a fighting chance. It was an excellent strategy.
"I've been a fool." Connor sighed. "I'll apologise to the lad."
"Richie needs his family around him Connor. But he also needs your support. If you can't manage that I suggest you leave."
It was an empty threat. As he had known he would, faced with the facts of the matter, Connor went to make his peace with Richie. Looking at the tight, closed face of Slick, scowling in the chair by the fire, Duncan realised that his kinsman might find it more difficult to earn Slick's forgiveness.
"How are you doing over here?" He reached out to gently unwrap the now soaked towel from the bruised hand.
"Would you really have done that?" Slick asked quietly. "Made him leave and all?"
"If I had to."
"But he's family."
"And Richie's my son."
"But you only just met him. You've known Connor forever."
"You barely know Macleod, but you were pretty upset when you thought he'd been killed."
"That's different," Slick squirmed slightly in his chair. "I mean I know he wasn't my Dad. Not really. But he acted like he was."
"I know. I never had a son before. Oh, I tried. Even came close a couple of times. But it's hard raising a mortal, with the world and your wife constantly ready to remind you that he's another man's child. Not to mention living with the knowledge that you will see them grow old and die and that's if you're lucky. When Richie looked at me, he saw Macleod, but he treated me like his Dad."
"One of my foster mothers used to say, what you've never had you can't miss," Slick shook his head. "I never had a Dad. Not really. Don't get me wrong, Jack was great but he was away a whole lot, he never came to my nativity play or that kinda stuff. And man, I always missed it something fierce."
They both smiled at each other in bashful understanding.
"You know, I'm not real good at playing the bagpipes or whatever it is you Scottish types do." Slick warned.
"I'll let you into a secret, I can't play them either." Duncan grinned.
"And I hate porridge."
"That's only because you haven't tasted it the way it's meant to be made."
"And I never finished High School. I have a Juvie Record as long as your arm and most of my foster parents said I was too loud and I ate too much and sometimes I can be real annoying and ..."
"Slick."
"I just want you to know what you're getting into," Slick bit his lip. "I'm not exactly the poster boy for adoption, I … I don't wanna get into this and have it not work. I'd rather go back to the streets."
Duncan had to look away. What kind of a system was it that damaged a child so badly that he was afraid to take another chance on love?
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
He instantly regretted his wording as a look of panic appeared on Slick's face, as if Duncan had discovered some dreadful, dark secret from his past. Which Duncan supposed was not altogether unlikely. Still, who was he to judge? He had enough murky corners in his own past. He tried again.
"Slick, I'm not thinking of adopting you."
As Slick's face fell Duncan realised this was not going as smoothly as he might have hoped. And Tessa will kill him if he upset the boy. Quickly reached out and grasped his arm, holding him in place, even as he offered a squeeze of reassurance.
"I don't have to adopt you Tough Guy because I'm already your biological father. And that means you're stuck with me. Got it?" He softened his words with a smile.
"No matter how many times I screw up?" Slick wanted to be sure.
"We'll work it out," Duncan assured him, reaching out to tousle his hair, before surrendering to his instincts and pulling the boy into a hug.
Up on deck, Macleod watched from a short distance while Connor made his apologies to Richie. Predictably, the lad forgave him easily, leaning into his hug. He was always generous to those he loved, but a good deal harder on himself. And Macleod was afraid that he'd taken what Connor had said much too much to heart. Sure enough, when Connor came back to him, his expression was troubled.
"I offered to go get Chinese for dinner. Risteard wants fried rice and lemon chicken, how about you?"
Macleod blinked. "What else did he order?"
"He said he wasn't very hungry."
Chinese was Richie's favourite. Ever since he'd lived with Macleod they'd always made a point of ordering at least four different meat dishes and a couple of fish ones, as well as a few vegetarian choices and a selection of side dishes, so everyone got a little variety. This was not a good sign.
"I'll talk to him."
"We'll just get him the usual," Methos decided, holding out his hands for the car keys. "If he doesn't eat it, Slick probably will."
"Why do you need both cars?" Macleod frowned not entirely keen on handing over the Citroen.
"I thought we'd should probably goby the Church and pick up the ladies. Of course, if its a tight squeeze Amanda could always sit on Connor's lap." Methos grinned, sure of the reaction that comment would provoke.
"Fine," Macleod refused to rise to the bait. "But you'll have to go and ask Duncan for the keys. I haven't seen them for about a hundred years."
As the others left, he walked over to stand with Richie in the prow, noting the pale complexion and the too bright eyes, as the lad stared fixedly ahead, desperately trying not to acknowledge his presence.
"Connor apologise?"
A nod.
"So, shouldn't you stop punishing yourself? He was the one in the wrong, Rich. He's even admitted it."
"Was he though?" Richie shot him a stricken look. "Ares' has threatened Tessa, he's hurt Amanda, he killed Rebecca, he's been torturing Methos for years. He would have done the same to Connor. And you …" Richie looked in anguish at Macleod's missing arm. "And it's all my fault."
"The hell it is. Dammit Rich, no one blames you for the things Ares has done. He's just .. evil."
"And evil has to be stopped, right? Don't you get it, Mac? If only I'd killed the bastard sooner, everything might have been different. Now, even if I win, how the hell are we ever gonna live with all the pain he's caused?"
"Richie, I love you. I would do anything for you. Don't you get that by now?"
"I know, I do," Richie assured him. "And I'd do the same for you in a heartbeat. But this is me, Mac. When the battles over and the war's won, how are you gonna feel then?"
"I will still love you."
"Then tell me the truth, Mac."
"What do you want me to say, Rich? That I hate this?" He waggled his empty sleeve. "That it eats me up that I can no longer protect myself and my family as I was raised to do? That I wish Ares had never been born? You know all of that. As for when you win this, who knows what the world will be like then? Maybe things will be different."
"Yeah," Richie gave him a sour look. "The grand prize. Maybe, I'll finally be able to beat you at chess, huh?"
Macleod ignored the snide tone. Lord knows the lad had reason enough to be scared of what was to come. It was only natural that he was wondering if it was worth it, for all of them.
"None of us knows exactly what the Prize will be. Not even Methos. So, for now we can make it whatever we like." He nudged Richie gently with the stump of his arm. "This is nothing compared to all the good you could do."
"Tessa could live." Richie breathed.
"And Cassidy." Duncan agreed.
"Darius could still be alive," Richie fantasised. "And Fitzcairn."
"Rebecca could be part of your life."
"And Alexa part of Methos'. Did you know her cancer had been in remission three times before she met Methos. She was first diagnosed less than two months ago. Right now, a single shot of cerrulum would be enough to cure her."
He paused, his eyes still drawn to Duncan's severed limb.
"I know all that, Mac. I just … I wish I could find another way, Mac. After everything you've already done for me.This is too much."
"You let me worry about that. You just concentrate on beating Ares."
"And afterwards?"
"We'll work it out," Macleod assured him, rubbing his hand across the back of Richie's neck and then using that grip to draw him in and plant a soft kiss on his forehead. "One way or another, we'll work it out."
Somehow, they all knew that time was running out. Every morning before dawn Richie got up to practice and didn't fall into bed until manipulated, cajoled or ordered to sleep. He worked through every style of fighting with every type of blade Duncan had ever seen and even some that were new to him.
"He's good." He murmured to Macleod one morning as they watched Richie practice with Methos, Connor and Darius, in the courtyard behind the Church. To Duncan's astonishment the three elder Immortals were tag fighting, each darting into to attack before Richie had quite vanquished his previous opponent. They had thousands of years of experience on him but the lad was holding his own. He moved as if born to the sword, engaging each of his opponents with a ready grin and a joy in the artistry of battle that Duncan wouldn't have expected from a child of this century.
"He's the best student I ever had," Macleod agreed. "When he was mortal I had the devil's own time keeping him out of my swords."
"Talking of which," Duncan looked around. A minute ago, Slick had been sitting on the wall, watching Richie with an unreadable expression. Now he was gone. "Where's Slick?"
In unspoken agreement they split up, each taking one side of the grounds as they searched for the missing teen, glancing into a small alcove housing nothing but a bubbling fountain, Duncan was about to move on, when over the music of the water he heard the sound of muted swearing. Coming around the corner he heard a scrunch of gravel as Slick whirled to meet him, blade up, eyes wide and scared.
"Shit!" Slick complained. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."
His expression hard and stern, Duncan advanced on the boy, pushing the blade of the sword down with two fingers. "And you should watch where you're pointing that thing." he spoke coldly.
He saw Slick's expression falter slightly, but his tone was defensive. "Hey, I thought you were Ares!"
"And if I had been?" Duncan growled. "What exactly would you have done?"
"Hey!" Angrily Richie threw the sword to the ground. "It ain't my fault I haven't had a hundred years to get ready for this. I'm just trying to do the best I can here. Cos if he can beat Richie, he's sure as hell gonna take me next."
Oh hell.
Looking up, Duncan saw that Macleod had appeared on the other side of the clearing and was watching the proceedings, his own eyes equally troubled. He wanted to tell the boy that that wouldn't happen, that they would protect him. But if Ares was victorious who knew what kind of hell would break lose?
"Then you'd better learn the first rule of sword fighting," Bending over Duncan picked up the discarded sword and presented it hilt first to Richie. "Never, ever, let go of your sword."
With a slightly uncertain expression, Slick took the offered blade.
"Put your fingers like this," Duncan felt himself slip into teaching mode as he wrapped Richie's hand around the hilt. "That's right. Now extend your arm a little. Yeah, like that. Now centre your feet. Move this one here ..."
Neither of them noticed when Macleod slipped away, a soft smile on his face.
"Chinese, again?" Amanda wrinkled her nose as she pulled one of the cartons out of the bags Connor was carrying. "That's the second time this week."
"You're welcome to cook Amanda dear," Connor smirked. "I'm sure Darius will lend you his hearth."
"Isn't it kinda a sin?" Slick asked, as he paused in his search for the prawn crackers. "I mean, are you really supposed to eat stuff in a Church?"
"I'm sure God won't mind," Darius smiled. "Just so long as we clean up after ourselves."
"Cool." Slick grinned. "You want some of this Tess?"
Duncan watched indulgently as the lad settled into a pew and ate with gusto. For his part, Richie had stretched out on his stomach in front of the altar, looking tired and preoccupied, playing with his food and stirring the contents of one container or another without actually putting any into his mouth in a way that had Macleod and Connor exchanging concerned looks.
"I am still in the room, you know." Richie commented after a while.
Duncan swallowed his laugh, as the young Immortal glared at his elders. Obviously neither of them had been as discreet as they'd hoped.
"You have to eat my love." Rebecca nudged the lemon chicken a little closer.
"I am eating."
"Two prawn crackers and a piece of sesame toast isn't exactly a balanced meal." Methos observed, without looking up.
"Not you as well," Richie rolled onto his back and eyed Methos challengingly. "Prawns are protein."
Methos didn't think Richie really wanted to know what prawn crackers were actually made of. He doubted that information would encourage him to eat.
"Besides, you always told me," Richie transferred his glare to Connor. "that it wasn't a good idea to fight on a full stomach. We still need to practice that two-handed defence."
"Not tonight," Macleod vetoed that. The lad had been working too hard. He needed to take a break. "Tonight you're taking the night off. We're going to do something normal. See a movie or take a boat ride down the Seine or something."
"Mac," Richie pushed up onto his elbows. "I don't have time to play tourist. In case you hadn't noticed, the world's about to end."
"All the more reason not to forget how to live, Tough Guy." Macleod admonished gently.
"Not to mention," Methos stood up and began to gather up the empty cartons. "You'd be no good to anyone if Ares turns up when you're dead on your feet."
Slick, who was busy finishing off the fried rice, froze with a pair of chopsticks halfway to his mouth as all the Immortals suddenly got a very strange look on their faces. "What?"
"You just had to go and say it, didn't you?" Richie growled at Methos.
"Oh no," Slick felt his stomach clench as he followed the others towards the door. "No, no no .."
Outside Ares stood in the middle of the courtyard, holding his sword with a casualness that belied the fire in his eyes.
"Nice of you to drop by." Richie greeted him, proud of his steady his voice sounded.
"You and I have a little business to transact."
"Ah," Richie made a face. "Today's not real good for me. Don't suppose you could come back in a Century or two?"
"And give you time to recover from your recent exertions?" Ares's cruel sneer made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. "I think not. Yield now and I will be merciful. Kneel before me and a single stroke will spare your friends thespectacle of your prolonged and agonising death."
"This is Holy Ground." Richie protested. "We can't fight here."
"Then I will fight and you will die, screaming in agony as your God fails to protect you. The challenge has been made, boy. Now run along and fetch your sword."
"He's insane." Connor growled, as the little group trooped back inside.
"And you're only just noticing this?" Methos enquired.
"Rich," Macleod spoke up, his eyes worried at this turn of events.
From somewhere Richie found a smile that conveyed all the love, loyalty and gratitude that he felt for this man. "Chill, Mac. What's the worst that can happen? So, its Holy Ground. One way or another the world's already gonna end, right?"
Seeing him determined to be brave Macleod struggled to bury his own feelings, so as not to distress the lad any further before he faced his fate. He hugged him, hard and tight, his voice a fierce whisper in his ear.
"Be safe."
Richie could only nod wordlessly, as he struggled to retain his composure, turning to face Connor, who took his hand in a warriors grip and shook it fiercely. Her smile a little too bright, Amanda kissed him soundly, and then Darius placed a hand on his head and muttered a silent prayer in benediction before Richie found himself face to face with Methos.
"Any words of wisdom for me, old timer?" he managed a wry smile.
Methos gripped his shoulder. "All you have to do, to beat Ares' is to live. As long as you are alive, he's losing." Pulling an evil looking dagger from a deep pocket, he passed it over. Richie's numb fingers closed gratefully over the hilt.
"I'll remember." He nodded seriously.
Standing next to Methos, Rebecca squeezed his hand. "Fight your best fight, my love. That's all any of us can ever do."
"Yes, Mom." Richie gave a shaky grin.
Catching sight of Duncan, Tessa and Slick, hovering at one side Richie gave them a bashful smile.
"Bon chance, mon brave." Tessa came forward and kissed him in her turn.
Slick didn't move, his hands stuffed in his pockets he was trying desperately to look as if he couldn't care less, but his eyes were anguished. Squatting down until he was looking up at the teen, Richie unhooked the piece of Rebecca's crystal from around his neck.
"Look after this for me, until I get back, huh?"
Drawing himself up to meet this significant responsibility, Slick nodded. "You're gonna whack him, right?"
"Hope so." Richie gave a lop-sided grin as he rose to his feet and turned towards the door.
"Richie," Duncan's voice stopped him and he turned on his heel, to see the Scot's arm extended, offering his beloved Katana. "If you're going to face him, you'll need one of these."
"Mac," Richie re-crossed the room, his hand reaching out for the familiar friend, almost of its own volition. He closed his eyes briefly as he remembered the evening that Macleod had first given him the sword. And why. And he was more grateful than he could say that that he would not be facing this alone. "Thank-you. All of you. For everything."
Duncan swallowed hard, feeling the tears well in his own eyes as he watched this remarkable young man prepare to face his fate. With one arm curled around Tessa's waist and another resting lightly on Slick's shoulder his little family steeled themselves to watch.
As he walked through the door to where Ares was waiting Richie felt muscles that had trained hard and long all week protest at being pressed into action once again and he knew only one thing for sure.
He was in big trouble.
Richie no longer had any idea how long they had been fighting. Time had long since ceased to have any real meaning. Each of them were covered in blood from fresh and long healed wounds, both playing a waiting game, knowing that the first to inflict a killing blow would take his enemy's head.
Outwardly, he still moved with the strength and fluidity that had convinced many an opponent that they had vastly underestimated the youthful looking Immortal. Inwardly, he knew he was almost spent. The problem was, he had no idea how close Ares was to his limit. With each volley he prayed it was a last burst of effort, before the other faltered, so each time he rallied just enough strength to parry a return. And each time Ares came back at him harder and faster then before and showed no signs of tiring.
One slip, one stumble and it would all be over. And he would take Mac and the others down with him. He didn't think he was strong enough to win and he didn't know how much longer he could postpone the inevitable. Diving hard left, to avoid a particularly vicious swipe, he rolled and caught the anxious, determined, expression on his younger self's face.
And suddenly he knew exactly what to do.
Taking a deep breath he raised his head and looked Ares straight in the eye.
"As long as I am alive, you lose."
Then he lowered his sword and waited for death.
Ares gave a roar of triumph at his submission, his blade cutting down in a blinding flash to slice through the exposed neck with a single, deadly stroke.
At first, there was nothing but Ares' ragged breathing, as he stood hunched and exhausted over the body of his opponent.
A short distance away Connor's eyes widened with stark horror and his expression palled as he took in what had happened. Beside him, Amanda sank wordlessly to her knees as she reached out, as if to touch the rivulets of blood running across the cobblestones, Tessa pressed her lips together, struggling to swallow the bile in her throat as she buried her head in Duncan's chest. Almost mechanically, her lover's arms went around her as he stared disbelievingly at the scene. Rebecca gripped Methos hand so tightly that she broke several of the bones. And he didn't even feel it. Next to him, Macleod took a half step forward as he spoke in a strangled whisper.
"Richie."
Almost at once the forces of the Quickening began to gather and swirl and the small assembled company could only stand in vigil as Ares' dropped to his knees and let his sword clatter to the ground, throwing back his head as he prepared to receive the ultimate prize.
"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
Slick's tortured cry echoed across the courtyard as he dashed forward, snatched up the Katana from the cobbles and in the seconds before the Quickening struck, swung wildly and sliced Ares' head clean from his body.