In The Dark by Dawn Cunningham - part 4 of 7 For disclaimers, see part 1. ***************************************** Duncan decided to fill Tessa in first. Without her support, this wasn't going to work. Unfortunately, that meant telling her about Richie's suicide plan. So, when the store finally closed, he called his lover into the office. While the living room would have been a more comfortable place to have a talk, he didn't want Richie to overhear their conversation. The Scot arranged the chairs so he could sit facing Tessa, then took her hands in his. "Tessa, there's no easy way to say this. Richie let something slip this morning. He intends to commit suicide if his sight doesn't come back." His lover tried to pull back, but he didn't let go of her hands. "Duncan! We have to stop him!" "I know, but it won't be easy. Right now Richie is terrified about living in a dark world. The only solution I can come up with is to show him that he *can* manage." "How do we do that?" "By refusing to do anything for him." "Nothing?" Tessa looked shocked at the thought. "How can you expect Richie to cook for himself?" "All right - not everything. But he should be able to get around the apartment on his own. I've shown him how. And there's no reason why he can't make his bed, or do things like setting the table." "I think I understand." "We have to stick together on this. There will be times when it will seem like we're being cruel, but we have to make Richie understand that life doesn't end just because he can't see." Tessa nodded. "Have you told Richie about this?" "No. I think it would be better if we just start refusing to help him when it's something that he can do by himself." Tessa nodded again, then stood up. Duncan released her hands, and stood up, too. He reached out and hugged her tightly. ***** Duncan was just about to go wake Richie for dinner when he heard the teenager's bedroom door open. He moved over into the living area, giving Tessa's arm a quick squeeze as he walked past her. "Mac? Tessa?" Richie called out from the edge of the living room. "You're just in time for dinner," Duncan called back. "Come and sit down while Tessa and I finish up." He stayed where he was to see what Richie would do. The young man took a few tentative steps, then stopped. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity before he finally spoke. "I... I need help getting to the dining room." Duncan wanted to give in and help Richie. It had taken a long time to teach the young man that asking for help wasn't a bad thing. Now, he had to do just the opposite. "We're busy fixing dinner, Rich. You know how to get to the dining room on your own." He hoped that would be enough to motivate the teenager to try it on his own, but it wasn't. "I can't!" "Yes, you can," Duncan insisted. "If you want to eat, you're going to have to walk to the dining room on your own. End of discussion." He glanced back over his shoulder toward the kitchen. Tessa was clutching the countertop as if that was the only way she could keep from going to Richie's side. The young man remained where he was, frozen in place, with a stunned look on his face. "Tessa?" he finally called out, his voice quavering slightly. "Please?" Duncan heard Tessa moving toward the young man and put a hand out to stop her. "I can't do this, Duncan," she whispered, a lone tear trickling down her cheek. "It is too cruel." The Scot sighed, but let go of her arm. He couldn't really blame her - he felt like a heel, himself. He returned to the kitchen to finish carrying the food to the table while Tessa guided Richie to his seat. There was very little conversation during dinner. Several times, Duncan started talking about something, but neither Tessa nor Richie seemed to be willing to keep the ball rolling. In fact, the teenager only spoke when asked a direct question, and kept his answer as short as possible. Whenever he wanted something, he would ask Tessa for it. Finally, Duncan gave up, and just concentrated on eating his own dinner. "I'm done," Richie finally announced. "Can I go back to my room, Tessa?" The Frenchwoman exchanged glances with Duncan. "In a few minutes, Richie. I am still eating. Why don't you take your plate over to the sink? It's only a few steps." Richie looked like he was going to argue for a moment, then he pushed back his chair and stood up. Carefully, he picked up his plate and silverware, then turned in the correct direction. His first few steps were confident, then he slowed down, cautiously reaching out with one hand, searching for the edge of the kitchen island. Once he found that, he was able to move at a faster pace as he followed the counter around the kitchen to the sink. He then surprised them when he turned on the water and rinsed his plate. "Thank you, Richie," Tessa said, as she carried her own plate over to the sink. "Can I go back to my room now?" "Why don't you stay out here with us?" Tessa suggested. "No, I want to go to my room. Will you take me there?" "No, she won't," Duncan interrupted their conversation. He was going to give his idea one more shot. And this time, he was going to spell it out. "From this point on, you're going to have to find your own way around the apartment. If you want to eat, you have to come to the dining room on your own. And don't expect Tessa to come to your rescue again." Richie looked shell-shocked, and Duncan almost regretted his words. "Why?" the teenager finally asked. "Because we have better things to do than waste our time on a quitter." It took all of Duncan's willpower to get that statement out in a cold but believable tone. "Tessa?" Richie sounded like he couldn't believe what was happening. Duncan exchanged glances with the Frenchwoman. If she didn't back him up this time, he knew he'd never get another chance. It was a good thing that Richie couldn't see the tears rolling down her face. It would have given away the whole thing. "I agree with Duncan," she finally said. Richie gasped, then took a step backwards. "I thought we were friends!" he finally burst out, his voice rising in anger. "But friends aren't supposed to ditch each other when the going gets tough! Now I know where I stand - all I am is the hired help and you just don't want to waste your time on someone who can't do all those chores you don't like doing! Well, I'm sure you won't have any trouble finding someone to replace me after I'm gone." Richie took another step back. "And let me tell you something else. I don't *need* your help. I've *never* needed your help. I was doing all right on my own before I met you, and I'll do fine on my own after this is all over!" He spun around, heading out of the kitchen, hands outstretched, trying to feel his way. "Richie..." Duncan started to follow the young man, reaching out to grab his arm, but the young man shook him off. "Leave me alone! I don't want your help!" Duncan let him go, realizing that Richie was in no mood to listen to anything at this time. He watched as the teenager made his way to his bedroom, only then turning back to Tessa. Tears still rolled down her face, and he took her into his arms. "Oh, Duncan, he hates us now," she said. "We shouldn't have done this." "No, *I* shouldn't have done this. You were right earlier when you said it was too cruel. I should have listened to you, but I never thought he would react like this. I'll give Richie some time to calm down, then I'll have a talk with him." ***** Richie tried to pace around his bedroom, but it wasn't easy. He kept bumping into his bed or dresser because he was too mad to keep track of where he was. At any other time, he'd have taken off on his motorcycle, but that wasn't an option now. He wanted to throw something. Hit something. Break something. He knew he should let his anger go, but without it, other emotions would take over. And those emotions would be so much more painful. He'd been betrayed - not only by Duncan, but by Tessa, too. And that was the hardest thing of all to accept. How could she turn on him like that? How many times had they told him he should have asked for help? Yet this time, they had turned away from him. Richie sank down on his bed as the pain of that betrayal washed through him. He knew Duncan could be ruthless when it suited him, but he'd never expected that of Tessa. With a deep effort, he called back the anger. It always blocked the pain of other emotions. He would show them that he didn't need their help. He didn't need anyone's help. And if his sight came back, he would look for a new place to live. ***** Duncan knocked on Richie's bedroom door, clutching the eye medication in his other hand. It was a valid reason to invade the young man's room, and, hopefully, Richie would be ready to listen to him. "Go away." Even muffled through the door, the tone made it obvious that Richie was still upset. Duncan ignored the order, and opened the door. "It's time to put drops in your eyes," he said. Richie sat up on his bed and held out a hand. "Give me the medicine, and I'll do it. I don't want to waste any of your valuable time. Especially on a quitter like me." Duncan sighed, and walked across the room to stand in front of Richie. He reached out one hand, and lightly placed it on the young man's shoulder. It was immediately shrugged off, but the Scot refused to back off. "I'm sorry, Rich. I thought by making you do things on your own that you would realize that you could handle being blind. I was... desperate to come up with anything that would keep you from committing suicide if your sight doesn't come back. Do you understand?" "Can we just get this over with?" Richie asked impatiently, reaching up to start removing the bandages wrapped around his head. Duncan wasn't sure whether Richie had listened to a word he'd said. Maybe Tessa would have a better chance of getting through to the young man. "All right. Let's go into the bathroom." It didn't take long to medicate Richie's eyes, then re-bandage them. The young man didn't say anything throughout the procedure. Duncan decided to try one more thing before he left. "Richie, you were right earlier, when you said friends don't ditch each other when the going gets touch, and we *are* friends. It's too bad you didn't remember that when you decided to commit suicide. Because that's exactly what you're planning on doing - if you commit suicide, you will be ditching your friends when the going gets tough. It works both ways." Duncan turned and left the room, hoping that Richie would at least think about what he'd said. Tessa was anxiously waiting for him in the living room. "Did you talk to Richie?" she asked as soon as Duncan came out of Richie's room. "Well, I talked, but I don't know if he listened. You know how stubborn he can be when he wants to be." "Yes, he's a lot like someone else in that aspect," Tessa said with a teasing smile. "I don't know *who* you are talking about," Duncan said, pretending to be affronted by the idea that she might be referring to him. "Of course not." Tessa wrapped her arms around the Scot. "But I love you both anyway." She kissed his cheek, then asked, "Should I try to talk to him? Maybe he will listen to me." "I hope so, but it might be better to wait until tomorrow. Maybe some of what I said will sink in by then." "All right." **** After Duncan left, Richie remained where he was for the longest time, thinking about what the Scot had said. Was he running out on his friends? Was he being a quitter? But what kind of friend could he be if he was blind? He couldn't help with the store. He couldn't run errands for them. He couldn't even dress himself without someone picking out clothes that matched. But maybe Duncan and Tessa wouldn't care. After all, they'd taken him in knowing that he was nothing more than a common thief - and a not very successful one at that. They had to teach him so much before he'd been of any use in the store. Was this so very different? But even if they were willing to take care of him, how long would it last? How long before they started to regret that decision? Besides, it wouldn't be fair to Duncan and Tessa. They'd already done so much for him - he couldn't let them make that kind of sacrifice. He'd have to move on as soon as he could. With a start, Richie realized he'd actually thought about having a future even if he was blind. Why? He'd already made the decision to end it all if his sight didn't return. He hadn't changed his mind. Or had he? With that disturbing thought, Richie stood up and headed for his bed. ***** Friday: Richie had found sleep to be elusive. His mind had gone around in circles as he wondered whether he could handle a life in the dark. He still hadn't settled on an answer. The only thing that he had decided was that he had better start being independent right away. Not only would Duncan and Tessa be happy about that, but it would get him one step closer to being on his own should his sight not return. He still hadn't figured out a good way of telling time, but his stomach thought it was time to get up. He put on the same clothes he'd worn the day before. He would take a shower later, and change to clean clothes then. His first concern was to find some food to stop the empty feeling in his stomach. He left his room and cautiously headed toward the kitchen. He hadn't put on shoes or socks, and found that this was an added benefit. He could feel the difference between the rugs and the wood floor, and judge his progress based on that. He soon reached the refrigerator, and felt a sense of pride that he'd made it without mishap. Since no voice had greeted him, Richie decided it was either too early for Duncan and Tessa to be up, or they were already out in the shop. Either way, he was determined to get his own breakfast. He opened the refrigerator door, and carefully searched until he found the glass pitcher that should contain orange juice. A quick sniff proved him right. His next stop was the cupboards where the glasses were kept. Richie moved around the kitchen, counting the cupboards as he went until he figured he'd found the right one. He opened it, and reached inside. Disaster almost struck when he knocked a glass over, but somehow he managed to catch it before it fell far. He finally moved over to the sink where he poured the juice into the glass. At least this way, if he spilled, he wouldn't have a mess to clean up, too. Cooking seemed out of the question, and Richie thought a few moments about what he could have for breakfast. Finally, he decided on toast. There was always bread, and he had no difficulty finding the breadbox. He pulled out two slices, then hunted for the toaster. While it was working, he returned to the refrigerator and searched for the jelly. He had thought about butter, but he couldn't decide which container held that. The jelly was always kept on the door, on the bottom shelf, and he could also tell it by smell. It didn't take long before he was able to start eating. He opted to eat standing at the counter. There was no reason to risk an accident by carrying his meal into the dining room. He had just taken a bite out of his second piece of toast when a stern voice startled him, and he dropped the bread. "Richie, what are you doing?" Duncan asked. "It's not even four o'clock yet." Richie shrugged, keeping his back to the Scot. "I was hungry, and I had no way of telling what time it was." He searched the counter top until he found his toast - which had landed jelly side down. He decided it didn't matter and took another bite out of it before continuing. "I thought you'd be happy that I'm taking care of myself." Duncan sighed loudly enough for Richie to hear, then said, "All right, but try to get some more sleep after you're done eating. Remember, the doctor wanted you to get plenty of rest." Richie didn't respond - he just kept eating his breakfast. When nothing more was said, he figured Duncan had gone back to his bedroom. He fixed himself another slice of toast, then tried to put the kitchen back in order. He couldn't be sure that he'd gotten all the jelly off the counter, but at least he'd tried. The teenager finally headed back to his bedroom, totally unaware that Duncan had remained in the living room, watching him with brooding eyes. ***** end of part 4