Richie was both confused and chagrined to awaken wrapped in Duncan's embracing arms once more, and his embarrassment only increased when he looked up to find both Vanya and Joe hovering over them, white-faced. The Watcher smiled and thumped his cane on the floor to announce his pleasure at the redhead's return, while Vanya, feeling the need to get physical, laid her hand briefly on Richie's chest. Duncan, too, tried to smile as Richie pulled away and sat up, but the memory of his young friend standing with a sword to his own neck was still too fresh in his mind, the impulse to blame himself almost overwhelming as Richie listened wide-eyed to a blow by blow replay of his latest trip to the far side with an expression that was a mixture of apprehension and disbelief. The young Immortal was forced to accept it: his bloody clothing and the demolished display case lent the tale a credibility with which he couldn't argue, much as he wished to. Duncan's insistence that he move in with him temporarily was another matter. That he did argue with, long and loud, bowing to the wisdom of the idea only after the Highlander threatened to kick his butt across town. That didn't stop him from pouting on the ride to his apartment to shower, change, and pick up some necessities. Nor did it keep him from muttering about high-handed Immortal babysitters all the way to the loft. "It's only temporary, Richie," Duncan told him for what seemed like the umpteenth time. "Only until we can find out what the problem is." They crossed the dojo, opting for the stairs instead of the elevator. "And how long will that take? I haven't needed anyone to tuck me in for a long time, you know?" Richie came back petulantly. "Is that what this is about?" Duncan asked as they reached the loft. "Rich, when Garrick was after my head and I was acting strangely, you stayed with me even though I told you to go, right?" "Right," the redhead agreed suspiciously, seeing where this was headed. "Why?" "Why?" Richie repeated, stalling. "Why did you stay?" A helpless shrug, then, "We're friends." "That's right, we are." Duncan regarded his young friend fondly for a moment, then, "Now shut up and put your stuff away," he ordered, a wry smile on his face. "You can take part of the closet, but don't hog all the good hangers. Keep all the junk food here that you want, I'd just better not find any potato chip crumbs on the floor...and keep your feet off the furniture," he added as an afterthought. "Anything else?" Richie grumbled, irked at how easily the Scot had steamrolled him. "Just one thing...you get the couch." "Gee, thanks," the young man snorted, grinning in spite of himself. "You're all heart." Duncan laughed with him, heartened to see the light back in the young man's eyes. He hurled one of his pillows to the redhead, smiling evilly as Richie dropped his duffel bag and jacket in order to catch it. "Swift move, Mac," Richie griped, throwing the pillow onto the couch and retrieving his jacket; he gave it a rough shake. "You can make up the couch later. I told Joe we'd meet him for dinner." "*Two* babysitters?" Richie groused. "Richie--" Duncan began in his standard lecturing tone. "I know, I know," the younger Immortal capitulated, one hand raised. "Two *friends*. I got it." Duncan merely gave him a small, tolerant smile. "Anything you want to do before we head out?" "No, I'm cool." A nod and Duncan started for the stairs, missing the frown that marred the young man's face as guilt replaced righteous indignation. "Mac, hold on," Richie called out sheepishly. He moved up beside the older man, gave a heavy sigh, then met his gaze squarely. "Look, I'm sorry. I know you and Joe are just looking out for me. I really do appreciate it, even if I don't show it sometimes. It's just that I don't know what's been wrong with me lately and...well, I guess I'm a little edgy." The Highlander lay a hand on his shoulder, frowning himself as the redhead drooped noticeably under the weight. He banished the frown quickly, trying for a more reassuring expression even as he winced inwardly at the badly bloodshot eyes of his companion. "It's all right, Richie. You don't hear us complaining, do you?" The young Immortal's raised eyebrows at that statement prompted Duncan to smack him playfully upside the head and snort, "Never mind. Come on," he urged, taking Richie by the arm and pulling him along. "Somewhere out there is a steak with my name on it." ~~~~~~~~ "Damn that spring," Richie muttered under his breath as he rolled over onto his back, wriggling to displace the metal coil that had been trying its best to make a permanent impression on his left shoulder for the last fifteen minutes. He gave a muffled curse as it pressed into his back now, rising up enough to bunch the edge of one blanket underneath him on that side, forming a barrier between his overly-sensitive skin and the persistent agitator. A soul-wrenching sigh escaped him, and he blew a lungful of air out of his mouth in resignation and rubbed a hand across his eyes. He didn't need to see a clock to know it was well past midnight...and getting later every minute. It should have been the best night's sleep he'd had since this whole thing began - what with 'big brother' playing watchdog - but, inexplicably, Richie was wide awake, watching shadows shift and elongate as the moonlight filtering through the windows played across the furniture in the loft. He pulled himself to a sitting position finally, wincing as the same spring that had been tormenting him squeaked loudly in triumph. "Can't sleep?" Richie whipped around to face the bedroom area, barely making out the dark form lounging on the king-sized bed there. "Oh, man. I didn't mean to wake you up," he mumbled, making a grab for one of the blankets before it slipped to the floor. "Worried about the session tomorrow?" Duncan asked, his relaxed, even tone doing little to assuage Richie's inner demons. "Why would I be worried?" the young Immortal replied a little too quickly, voice pitched just a little too high to be convincing. "It's not like she's going to hurt me or anything, right?" "Right." "Just because I'm going to be lying there, totally vulnerable, while someone I barely know picks my brain, that's no reason to lose sleep, right?" he continued, jumping to his feet and pacing the length of the couch like a caged animal. "Richie..." "So I make an ass of myself in front of my two best friends and a beautiful woman. No problem. Been there, done that, right?" "Richie, you're working yourself up over nothing. Joe and I aren't going to be there to judge, only to lend moral support. If it makes you uncomfortable, we can wait in the outer office, just like we did today." The younger man stopped his pacing, facing his mentor across the room, running a hand down the back of his head and massaging the stress-tightened muscles at the base of his neck. "No...I...I want you guys to be there," he stammered. "I just wish this would all go away." This last came out as a desperate whisper, but Duncan heard it just the same. "It will, Rich. Just give it time." "Yeah, sure, Mac...time," the redhead repeated, his tone dubious. "I know standing around doing nothing isn't your strong suit--" A humorless snort met this statement. "--*but*," Duncan continued, "this time you have to bow to someone else's wisdom, and trust that Dr. Korsikov knows what she's doing." "I know," Richie admitted. "But, it's hard, Mac." Duncan's heartfelt sigh made his agreement plain. "I know it is." A pause, then, "You trust me, don't you?" "You know I do." "Then believe me when I say I think you're doing the right thing." When Richie spoke again his tone was quiet, subdued. "Okay, Mac." He could just make out the Scot's nod in the dim light. "Good. Now would you do me a favor?" "What?" "Go to bed." "Bed. Right. Go to bed," Richie mumbled, heading back to the couch and the jumble of blankets there. The spring squealed anew as he settled his weight back down upon it, and he groaned in answer. Twisting around, he took his frustration out on his pillow, punching it into submission. Satisfied that it, at least, knew its place, he burrowed under the top blanket, letting out a sigh of relief as he found a comfortable position at last. Both Immortals lay silently for several minutes, the younger of the two with something laying heavy on his mind. "Mac?" he said at length. "Hmm?" "Thanks." "For what?" "For everything." Silence; then, "Go to sleep," Duncan muttered with a forced gruffness, his smile going unseen in the dark room. Richie grunted his compliance and turned his face to the soft pillowcover, breathing in its scent as his eyes drifted shut. There was a calming sense of closure in saying the words aloud...'for everything'. Other words remained unsaid between them, words that would hurt or heal. But that would have to wait for another day. ~~~~~~