AN- Disclaimer. Don't own them. Never did. This is set in the same universe as my story The Quickening, (although its not its main sequel which is still in the works) All you need to know is that Connor, Duncan Methos and Richie, all live together on a ranch in Montana and Methos is Richie's new teacher. And I KNOW its not Richie's punishment either but as I said to Southern Chickie I feel I have tortured Richie enough recently and felt in need of a nice big comforting dose of humour and smarm.
***
Conner surveyed the dinner table critically. Rolls warm from the oven. A good merlot. A warm rack of beef and a crisp dressed salad. Everything was ready.
"You shouldn't have." Methos dry tone came from behind him.
"Actually I ordered in." Conner shrugged.
"The miracles of modern living." Methos acknowledged as he took his seat.
"Well, with the lad away, I thought we could dine like civilised men for once." Connor grinned.
"Richie's table manners are better than yours were when you were his age." Methos defended his new student.
"I meant Duncan." Connor deadpanned.
"How long does it take a man of Mac's experience to choose one filly anyway?" Methos wondered.
"Depends," Connor quirked a brow. "M. Geran has four daughters. Four very attractive daughters by all accounts."
"He's supposed to be running a Ranch, not a bloody harem." Methos protested.
The phone rang.
"Never fails." Conner sighed. "Excuse me."
Methos leaned forward and sipped at his wine, as Conner crossed the room and picked up the phone.
"Nash."
"Yes I know Richard Ryan," Conner met Methos eyes with a frown. "He's my nephew."
"What?" Conner stared at the phone. "Oh. Yes. Well. He's .. he was adopted. Ryan was his foster mother's name," Conner rolled his eyes at Methos. "Can I ask what this is about?"
"I see." The serious tone made Methos sit up a little straighter.
"Yes Officer. Of course," Conner's face was grim. "Can I speak to him?"
A pause. "Yes. I expect he is. No. I'll come right away."
Conner put the phone down and stared at it for a moment as if it was the cause of all his troubles.
"Trouble?"
"A New York State Patrol car found Richie walking down the Highway. They think he was mugged."
"Not very likely." Methos put his glass down. Richie might not have centuries of experience but he was Immortal and he had several very good teachers.
"Apparently he was bleeding all over their patrol car." Connor mused.
"Bleeding?" Methos clarified.
Even if he had been in a fight any injury Richie had should have healed quickly enough. It took severe, repeated, trauma, over a period of days, to cause the kind of prolonged damage that would inhibit healing. Very carefully Methos put down his glass.
"Did they say anything about a sword?"
"No." Conner went over to a nearby chest and, after a moment, pulled out a rapier. "I think they would have mentioned something like that. Don't you?"
"Probably," Methos nodded. "Does Richie know anyone in New York State?"
"They wouldn't let him leave the police station unless he could be released into someone's care. If he knew anyone In New York State do you think he would have given them this number?" Conner asked.
"Probably not." Methos looked around.
"What are you looking for?"
"My coat. I know I brought it with me."
"Its on the floor in the kitchen. With your sword." Conner arched a brow.
"See, that's why I'm coming," Methos headed towards the Kitchen. "I can still remember how these things happen."
***
The journey took several hours. It was almost dawn when Conner pulled into a gas station to ask directions to the local police station. A sergeant showed them to a small office room, sparsely furnished with an overstuffed couch, a bare table and a coffee machine.
Richie was sitting on the floor.
Methos saw Conner's lips thin as he took in the pale hollow cheeks and the dark circles under his eyes. A smear of blood across one cheek offset the stark white complexion.
"We offered him a shower." The sergeant said apologetically.
"Richie." Conner crouched down beside the lad. Didn't try to touch him.
Richie blinked. But he didn't move.
"You alright?" Conner asked gently.
Richie pursed his lips and nodded his head sharply once.
"Alright." Conner straightened up. "Where do I sign for him?" he asked the sergeant.
"You gonna take him like that?" the sergeant frowned.
"He's family." Conner said simply.
Methos saw Richie jerk slightly at the open affection, but he still didn't speak.
This was bad.
"This way." The Sergeant shrugged, leading the way out of the room.
Methos moved over to crouch down beside Richie, noting the way his student tracked his movements out of the corner of his eye like a cornered animal.
"You cold?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I never liked that coat."
He shrugged his way out of his dark, woollen coat, and wrapped it tightly around his student's shoulders. Richie shivered, but allowed the contact.
"That's better." Methos affirmed quietly.
"You bought it for me." Richie's quiet protest warmed his heart. "The coat .."
"I know," Methos agreed. "That's why I don't like it. You have no fashion sense."
"Hey, I have good taste in clothes," Richie countered, accepting the hand up that Methos offered.
The ancient Immortal pretended not to notice the way the way Richie grimaced, as he straightened up.
"Ugly Green and Blue Jacket?" He offered instead, subtly supporting the younger Immortal as they headed out towards Connor's car.
"That jacket was a classic." Richie sucked in his breath and looked dangerously close to passing out as Methos propped him up against the Sedan.
Methos decided he had exhausted this century's quota of subtle.
"Please tell me the bastard who did this to you is dead." He demanded, patting his pockets before belatedly realising that a. Richie was wearing his coat and b. Connor was still inside with the car keys.
"Chopping off their heads usually works, right?" Richie managed through clenched teeth.
"Usually." Methos agreed, breaking into the car, without leaving so much as a scratch.
"Then he's dead," Richie sank gratefully onto the front seat and closed his eyes tight. "Nothing to worry about."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Methos frowned at him in concern.
"I'm fine." Richie murmured.
"That might work .." Methos acknowledged, sliding into the back seat. "If I had never met you before."
"How's the lad?" Connor asked, opening the driver's door and settling himself in.
"He says he's fine." Methos rolled his eyes.
"That bad?" Connor worried.
"In case anyone hasn't noticed," Richie sounded slightly peeved. "I'm Immortal. I come with a Lifetime guarantee."
"If you are so fine," Connor challenged. "Why haven't you opened your eyes?"
"Its two in the morning," Richie managed. "Any normal person would be asleep."
"Someone needs to get you a new watch. You've had a longer than average day, boo boo." Methos murmured.
"What?" Connor twisted to look at him.
"We passed a Motel, just down the road." The ancient offered.
***
"It's a Motel, Jim but not as we know it." Methos quipped as he took in the garish 70's wall paper and the stained carpet.
"What?" Connor blinked at him, as he settled Richie onto the bed furthest from the door.
"Haven't you watched any television in the last four hundred years?" Methos demanded, unlacing Richie's tattered sneakers. His feet were bare and swollen, marked with old cuts and dark bruising.
"I watch documentaries." Connor huffed, easing Richie out of Methos' coat.
"That's not television," Richie slurred from the bed. "Gotta get you into MTV."
"You read War and Peace my lad and I'll watch MTV." Connor chuckled, removing the lad's own suede jacket, frowning when some parts seemed suspiciously darker than others.
"Deal." Richie nodded vaguely.
Any retort Connor might have made was lost, when he saw the state Richie was in. His clothes were torn and marked. Hardly an inch of him was free from injury.
"Didn't I teach you better than that?" Connor didn't know how Methos managed to keep his tone light. "Never agree to a wager unless you understand the stakes."
"War and Peace is just a book, right?" Richie managed.
"Its not just a book, brat." Richie felt Methos ruffle his hair. "It's the longest book that's ever been written."
"Ever?" Richie's jaw lolled open.
"Now, don't scare the lad. What about the Bible?" Connor swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure.
"That's several books," Methos pointed out. "They just brought out a Reader's Digest version."
"Um. Guys. Can you argue about this later?" Richie's cold fingers fumbled ineffectively with his buttons. "I really want to get some sleep."
"Leave those." Connor gently swatted his hands away. Richie's shirt was stuck to his body with dried blood. If they just pulled it off the wounds would heal, eventually, but it would be incredibly painful.
"What do you think?" he asked Methos.
Methos looked at the deep and myriad wounds, some of which were still bleeding sluggishly.
"I think," he decided. "We need to get him in the bath."
"Bath!" Richie sat bolt upright. "You are not giving me a bath!" he protested vehemently.
Just before he passed out.
"Do you have any bubble bath?" Methos asked innocently.
"I'm sure the Management can provide some." Connor smirked.