Author's Note: I know this has taken me a really long time to update and that you probably all hate me by now, but I swear that I have been trying. This is the story that keeps me up at night thinking. Psychological stories are really difficult for me to write (don't ask why now I have three psych stories up that have yet to be completed: Denial, Understanding, and Bogeyman). I want it all to be as realistic as possible. And I can't decide if I'm happy with this story, I put in everything that I wanted to, but perhaps it could have been written better. Anyway I don't know when the next update will be, but I am working on it and feel free to hassle me about it. Oh and please review!!
Duncan awoke in the now rather uncomfortable chair when he heard the rustling of cloth. Opening his eyes, he saw Tessa in her robe, standing in the doorway to the living room looking at them with concern. Richie still slept like the dead, a painful reminder of how much the youth probably needed sleep. Of his failure.
He walked over to her. He didn't want to disturb Richie with their voices but he wanted to be there when the boy woke up, to make sure that the boy knew that he had not been abandoned. He compromised on the doorway.
Placing a finger on his lips, the immortal indicated that they should be quiet. Tessa's face showed confusion but not worry…not yet.
"I don't want to wake him."
The Frenchwoman's voice held a tinge of exasperation when she asked, "What are you two doing out here?"
Duncan hesitated only for a moment before answering. "He's afraid to sleep in his bed, that woman…you were right, Tessa, he's not ok. He needs help. Richie…Richie tried to kill himself last night."
"What?!" Tessa's horror showed in her wide blue eyes.
Duncan immediately drew his lover close, wanting to comfort her at least when he felt so useless with Richie. He wanted to reassure her, tell her that everything would be ok, that Richie would be fine, that their little family would be fine.
But he couldn't. He was four hundred years old, had fought in wars, won innumerable immortal battles, but he had no idea what to do. Everything he had done so far had failed miserably, so he just held her tight.
Eventually they parted, Duncan suggesting Tessa make them all some breakfast before he turned back to the still figure on the couch. As he got closer though, he realized that the bright blue eyes were open. Richie was awake.
"Hey, how're you feeling?" Duncan asked softly as he squatted down in front of the couch.
The teen shrugged, not meeting Duncan's eyes as he levered himself up into a sitting position. Duncan looked at the boy; Richie was sitting back in a corner, his arms wrapped around his knees, clutching them to his chest. The teen looked so small, it broke Duncan's heart to see. Richie was strong, happy, resilient, he wasn't supposed to look so…broken.
"Richie, we're going to work it out, ok? Together. Now do you want to come have some breakfast or stay in here and watch some tv?"
Having finally been given a choice, Richie followed Duncan into the kitchen.
The three of then sat around the breakfast table in kitchen. Richie still only picked at the food Tessa cautiously placed in front of the teen.
This morning, however, Duncan didn't harass the boy to eat more, only directing two or three pleading looks at Richie. And Richie responded, taking a bite after every one of the immortal's glances. Duncan supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Richie had always been sensitive, covering it with bravado and a cock-sure attitude, but the teen obviously looked up to Duncan, cared about what Duncan thought of him. Commands were likely to cause the teen, any teen for that matter, to rebel.
They ate in silence and when Duncan was done, he took his and Richie's plates to the sink. Richie stood intending to wash the dishes as he was normally expected to, but Duncan caught the teen's elbow, turning Richie back toward the doorway to the living room.
"Let's just relax today, ok Rich?" Duncan's tone was wary, the immortal still expecting the boy to rebel, to fight him the whole way. But Richie simply sank back down onto the couch, meekly accepting the remote that Duncan handed him.
"Tessa, why don't you sit with him for a while, I have to make a phone call." The immortal's eyes told her that it was not a suggestion and Tessa seemed to understand, sitting in the adjacent chair though her eyes were still questioning.
Duncan sat heavily into his desk chair, taking a deep breath and scrubbing his face with his hands before picking up the phone. It was seven am here so it would be two in the afternoon in France where Sean Burns was.
The phone rang once, twice, three times before a familiar cultured voice answered.
"Dr. Sean Burns," the cheerful voice said.
"Sean, its Duncan."
The other immortal caught onto the wrongness of his friend's voice seemingly immediately. When Sean spoke again, his voice was all quiet concern.
"Duncan, what's wrong?"
The story poured out then, words passing Duncan's lips seemingly without conscious choice. It just felt so good, telling it all to someone who would understand, explaining how he and his longtime lover had taken in a bedraggled, brash adolescent who charmed his way into their hearts, filling an old need in the Highlander, how Duncan hadn't known what to do, how to handle this catastrophe though he had tried, God knows how Duncan tried to keep his makeshift family together, and how he had failed.
Sean listened in silence, but Duncan could feel the other man's sympathy even before he began to speak, telling Duncan that it was going to be ok, that his mistakes were quite common…
"What should I do now?" Duncan implored.