In The Dark by Dawn Cunningham - part 3 of 7 For disclaimers, see part 1. ***************************************** Richie managed the shower easily enough, but shaving seemed too risky to attempt. He did manage to brush his teeth on his own, then he got dressed. Finally, he headed over to his bedroom door and opened it. Using the wall to guide him, he took the few steps needed to reach the living room, then he stopped. There was no way he could cross that room on his own. Instead of a normal living room, it had become a maze filled with pitfalls and landmines. He'd either fall down and hurt himself, or knock into something and break it. "Tessa? Mac?" he called out. Surely one of them had to be around. They wouldn't have left him alone - would they? "I'm here, Richie." Just the sound of Tessa's voice sent a wave of relief through him. "Is it time for breakfast yet?" It wasn't the smartest thing to ask, but it was better than asking for help to cross the living room. "Not quite, but you can join me while I finish it," Tessa suggested. "Okay." He felt her hand take his, and he let her lead him across the room to his chair in the dining room. "Do you want some orange juice?" "Sure." It would give him something to do. After giving him a glass of juice, Tessa returned to the kitchen. She started chattering away about things she wanted to change around in the antique store. Fortunately, it didn't require him to make any comments, otherwise he might have said something nasty. There was no way he could be involved in making the changes unless his sight came back. "Good morning, Rich," Duncan greeted him. "Did you sleep well?" "Yeah, I did." There was no way he'd say anything else. He didn't want Duncan to know he hadn't taken the sleeping pill. Although he had been surprised that he'd fallen asleep so quickly the night before. ***** Eating scrambled eggs for breakfast had been a challenge. Richie knew he must have looked ridiculous when he'd lifted his fork to his mouth only to find nothing on it, but he hadn't heard a single giggle or laugh from Duncan and Tessa. They'd just kept on talking about the changes Tessa had in mind for the store. Several times Richie'd become so frustrated that he'd almost thrown his plate across the room, but he'd just barely managed to keep himself under control by remembering Duncan's reaction from the night before. He must have managed to eat enough to satisfy the couple because neither said a word when he'd announced that he was finished. Now he sat on the living room couch, feeling lonelier than he ever had in his entire life. He knew Tessa and Duncan were in the antique store, but that seemed like another country at this point. He had no idea how long he'd been sitting here - he couldn't just look at his watch to judge time anymore. Moving from this spot wasn't an option, either. It would have been different if he'd been in his own room. At least there, he'd be less likely to run into anything. He might even be able to figure out how to put a CD in his player so he could listen to music. He thought about yelling for Duncan so that he could go to his room, but he didn't want to bother the Scot if he was working. He also didn't want to be considered a nuisance. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, he heard someone walking toward him. "Time to put drops in your eyes, Richie," Duncan said as he drew closer. Richie stood up, glad to be able to move around now that he had help. They went into his bathroom where Duncan efficiently removed the old bandages, placed the medication in Richie's eyes, then re-bandaged them. "Decided to skip shaving this morning?" Duncan asked as he finished up. "Thought I'd go for a new fashion style." Richie wondered what had happened to his ask-for-help reflex. It seemed to have disappeared again. It was just like his first few months of living with Duncan. "Think again." Richie sighed, and forced the words out. "Would you help me shave?" "Oh, I think you can manage on your own, but I'll stay in case you run into problems." "Manage on my own!" Richie's voice almost squeaked in protest. "How?" "You've been shaving yourself for quite some time. Don't think about doing it - just do it." With shaky hands, Richie opened the medicine cabinet door, and searched for the can of shaving cream. He managed to squirt some in his palm without too much difficulty, then spread it on his face. Next, he found his razor, then slowly placed the first stroke. His confidence grew after a few strokes, and he realized Duncan had been correct. This had only seemed difficult because he'd thought about it. When he thought he was finished, he turned to face Duncan. "How'd I do?" "Not too bad, but you missed a few spots. Use your hand to find where there's still lather on your face." Richie carefully searched his face until he found the spots. "Good job, Richie. Now, on to your next lesson. We're going to learn how to get around the apartment so you don't have to depend on Tessa or me to be here to help you." Duncan turned Richie a little bit. "Okay, so you're at the door of your bathroom. I want you to take a regular stride and count your steps. I won't let you run into anything. We're going to the foot of your bed." Richie carefully started forward, his hands held out, but Duncan pulled him back. "No, no... take a normal stride, otherwise this will never work." Richie tried again, counting out loud. At 'five', he reached his bed. "All right, so now you know how many steps it will take to get to or from your bathroom. Now we'll aim for the door." Richie finally understood what Duncan was doing. He started out more comfortably this time. This time it only took four strides. "Okay. The hallway is easier because you can touch the wall the whole way, if necessary. First we'll go to my bedroom, then we'll tackle the living room." The lesson seemed to drag on forever, and Richie had to struggle to remember all the different numbers. No matter how hard he tried, he always messed up in the living room or kitchen area. He'd lost track of the number of times Duncan had to save him from tripping over something or stumbling on the various steps. "This is a waste of time!" Richie finally blurted out, totally frustrated. "I'm never going to get this right! Besides, in a few days it won't matter one way or another!" Richie could almost feel the silence that filled the room after that statement, and he suddenly realized what he'd said. "What do you mean by that?" Duncan's voice sounded cold and angry. He briefly thought about trying to bluff, but decided it wasn't worth it. "Next week, I'll either be able to see, or I... well, I don't intend to spend the rest of my life being blind." "And how were you going to keep that from happening?" It didn't seem possible for Duncan's voice to be any colder, but he'd managed it. Richie wasn't going to give up that secret. If he did, Duncan would make sure he didn't get any more sleeping pills. "I haven't decided yet." "I don't believe you," Duncan said, gripping the young man's arm tightly. "You sounded like you've already figured out what you're going to do, so you might as well tell me. Or should I start by searching your room?" Richie struggled to free his arm, but Duncan maintained his grip. He knew there was no way he'd be able to stop the Scot from searching his room and he'd probably find the pill. "I didn't take my sleeping pill last night. I was going to save them and then take them all if my sight doesn't come back." "Where did you put it?" "In a box in my nightstand." Duncan took Richie's arm and led him back to his bedroom. The young man opened the nightstand drawer, pulled out the box, and handed it to the Scot who took it from him. "I'll be right back." Richie listened as the footsteps went away from him, but he didn't have long to wait until they came back. Duncan handed the box back to him. "The whole bottle of sleeping pills is in there. I won't waste either of our time by trying to get you to take one when you're supposed to." Richie couldn't believe his ears. Duncan wasn't going to protest? He wasn't going to hide the pills from him? "I didn't realize you were such a quitter. I guess I was wrong about you, after all," Duncan said, disappointment evident in every word. He walked away, leaving the stunned Richie by himself. ***** Duncan stormed across the apartment, through Tessa's workshop, and into the antique store office. Right now, he'd welcome an Immortal challenge. He wanted to hit something - destroy something - anything to release some of his anger. The worst part of it was, he wasn't sure who he was angrier with - Richie or himself. He never would have guessed that Richie would even think about committing suicide. It just didn't seem to match the young man's personality. He'd always seemed to be a fighter, and willing to do whatever it took to survive. Was being blind so terrifying? Yes, Richie's life would have to change, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a happy and fulfilled one. The only problem was, Duncan wasn't sure he could convince Richie of that. Duncan sank down onto the desk chair as he tried to figure out his own reaction to Richie's wish to kill himself. By giving the young man the bottle of sleeping pills, he'd virtually given him permission to commit suicide. How could he have done that? If the news was bad, could he stand by and do nothing, knowing that Richie was probably swallowing a bottle of sleeping pills? Had he done it because, deep inside, he hoped it would keep Richie from becoming an Immortal? He couldn't be sure, but he'd heard that a slow death wouldn't trigger immortality. Would this qualify? Or was that just one of those tales that get started, but have no basis in reality? Did any death trigger immortality? Even if he did go back and take away the pills, how could he watch Richie twenty-four hours a day? There were so many ways a person could commit suicide. "Duncan? Is there something wrong?" He looked up to see Tessa standing in the doorway with a concerned expression on her face. How did he tell Tessa about what had happened? She was already feeling guilty about the accident. If Richie did commit suicide, it would tear her apart. "No, just thinking. Did you need something?" "There is a customer who would like more information on the suit of armor. Could you come out and talk to him?" "Of course," Duncan agreed, standing up. Maybe if he turned his mind to other things for a while, he'd be able to come up with a solution later. ***** Richie sat on his bed and tried to figure out what had just happened. He'd really expected Duncan to take away the sleeping pills, but the Scot hadn't done that. Maybe he just didn't care whether Richie killed himself or not. Or maybe he was afraid that he'd be stuck taking care of Richie for the rest of his life. But then he'd called Richie a quitter. He wasn't a quitter! This had nothing to do with quitting. He just didn't want to be dependent on someone for the rest of his life. That's all it was. So why did he feel so bad? Why had the disappointment in Duncan's voice made him feel about three inches tall? Why did he feel like crying? ***** Richie had no idea how much time had passed when he heard a light tapping on his door. A moment later, he heard it open and Tessa ask, "Are you ready for lunch?" Richie shook his head. The way his stomach was still churning around, anything he ate would come right back up. He wondered if Duncan had told her about his plans. "I... I don't feel too good." He heard her cross the room, then felt the bed tilt slightly as she sat down. Next he felt her cool hand on his forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever. Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?" "No, I'll...I'll be okay," Richie finally stuttered out. "I'm...I'm just tired, that's all. I think I'll take a nap." He slid down to a flat position in his bed, and turned his head away from Tessa. He felt a light touch on his cheek, and realized she'd kissed him. If anything, it made him feel worse than before. He didn't say anything as Tessa pulled the bedspread up over him, too busy struggling to hold back his tears until she had left the room. ***** Tessa started heating soup for lunch, then prepared a salad for herself and Duncan to eat while thinking about Richie. Something was not right, but she didn't have a clue what it could be. She had a feeling that it had something to do with Duncan, as well. Her lover had been very quiet ever since he'd joined her in the antique store. Knowing the pair of them, they had probably had another fight. They were both way too stubborn for their own good, and sometimes that led to clashes. Usually, they blew over fairly quickly, but it wouldn't hurt to remind Duncan that he needed to have a little more patience with Richie right now. She couldn't imagine what Richie was going through. Tessa shut her eyes, and tried to make her way over to the dining room table to see if she could get some idea of how difficult it was. She managed it without too much difficulty, but she'd only had to take a few steps. Tessa opened her eyes and surveyed the living room, immediately seeing that it would be a much bigger challenge. She couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to go outside and find your way around if you were blind. Of course, they weren't that far from the bus stop. She knew the bus drivers would be sympathetic to a blind person and tell them when they arrived at their destination. That would give Richie a sense of independence if he could get around without waiting for Duncan or Tessa to take him somewhere. But where could he go? What did blind people do? She really didn't have a clue. She knew that if she had been the one who'd been blinded, that she would have had to give up many of her favorite activities. It would be hard to enjoy art galleries and museums without being able to see. Tessa sighed and returned to the counter to fetch her salad. She ate quickly, then went out to take Duncan's place in the store. "Did Richie eat something?" Duncan asked when she joined him. "No, he said he wasn't feeling well. He doesn't seem to have a fever, and wasn't in any pain. Did he say anything to you this morning?" Duncan's attention was suddenly focused on the display case next to him. "No, he didn't say anything," he said casually, as he moved several items around, then moved them back to their original locations. "All right. What happened?" Tessa had a feeling Duncan knew exactly what was behind Richie's sudden illness. Duncan sighed. "We had a... disagreement." "About what?" "That's between me and Richie." Tessa wasn't so sure about that, but she recognized the stubborn look on her lover's face. "Just remember that Richie needs lots of patience and understanding right now." "Sometimes patience and understanding aren't the answer," Duncan said before walking away from her. ***** Duncan took his time over lunch, dreading his next confrontation with Richie. He'd already decided how he was going to handle this, but he wasn't looking forward to the scene it would probably cause. He managed to waste more time cleaning up the kitchen, making sure all the counters were sparkling clean. Finally, he couldn't put it off any longer, and headed for the teenager's bedroom. He knocked on the door, but when no answer came, he opened it anyway, figuring Richie was just being stubborn. He immediately saw the young man curled up on his bed, facing the door. While it was hard to tell without being able to see the eyes, he was fairly certain Richie was asleep. He didn't think the teenager would be lying there with his mouth partially open if he was still awake. Duncan studied the young man, noting how vulnerable Richie looked while he was asleep. And how young. No one that young should even be thinking about suicide. That thought hardened his resolve to carry through his plan, even though he knew it wouldn't be easy. He didn't want to disturb Richie's sleep, so Duncan quietly exited the room. His plan could wait for a while. With a feeling of relief, he headed back to the office. ***** end of part 3