When they arrived at Korsikov's office the next day Duncan looked nearly as tired as his young student. Vanya surmised that it had been a rough night for both Immortals, and the Scot confirmed it. "Richie was pretty 'active' last night," he told her, giving his reluctant roommate a meaningful glance and a small smile meant to soften the words. "Sleepwalking?" she asked, though she was sure she knew the answer. Duncan nodded, carding the fingers on one hand through his hair. "He seemed determined to leave the loft. Wanted a night out on the town, I guess," he added, playfully thumping Richie on the back of the head. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Richie grumbled good-naturedly, swatting the hand away. "It wasn't a lot of fun waking up with one arm tied to the coffee table." "It was either that or lock you in the bathroom. Be grateful for small favors." "I am, Mac," Richie replied, a despondent note suddenly appearing in his voice. "Well, we're all set for this session," Vanya said, sensing that a change of topic would be appreciated. "Richie, why don't you go on into the office and get comfortable? I'll be there in a minute." The redhead glanced from Korsikov to MacLeod, tempted to hold his ground, then shrugged, surrendering the day. He moved sluggishly across the reception area toward the open office door. "I'm worried about him," Duncan confided, eyes following the retreating figure. "Every day a little of the fight goes out of him. He's giving up." "We won't let him," Vanya assured him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "You can't go on like this yourself. Have you thought about calling for reinforcements?" "You mean ask some mutual friends to help guard him? I've considered it, but I don't want to spook him. Richie thinks this is something to be ashamed of, and if I introduce someone else into it he may bolt. I can't risk that." "Could Joe help watch him at night?" Duncan started at her choice of terms and answered cautiously, choosing his words with care. He felt duty-bound to conceal Joe's extra-curricular activities as a Watcher, but how to explain that the bar-owner couldn't spend the night at the loft without tipping off *Richie's* Watcher to his relationship with the Immortals within? "Joe does what he can, but he's not a young man. He's already pulling double-duty between running his business and spending time at the dojo every day. He would be here now if a delivery hadn't come in late." "It sounds as if you've given this some thought so I'll leave it in your capable hands. I am curious, though. You own a dojo and practice different forms of martial arts. How do you handle the risk of Richie getting his hands on something lethal?" Duncan nodded, knowing the subject would come up sooner or later. "I've locked up all the swords in the place - other than my katana, and I don't have to worry about him getting hold of that." "What about *his* sword?" "I keep it with me at night and give it back to him in the morning. It's not an ideal solution but it gives us both a little peace of mind. I wouldn't sleep at all if I knew he still had it." "I see. Well, it seems to be working so far. Oh, yes, were you able to find a photograph for me?" "I was up the better part of the night so I had plenty of time to go through them," he replied, pulling a 4x6 photo from his inner coat pocket. He held it out to her. "Will this work?" Vanya accepted the picture, turning it over to reveal three smiling faces. Two were familiar to her - Duncan and a slightly younger Richie - one was not. "This is Tessa?" she asked, struck by the natural beauty of the woman standing between the two Immortals. Eyes the color of clearest blue topaz, hair pulled back into a ponytail, little, damp wisps hanging loosely about a rosy-cheeked, sun-kissed complexion. It was difficult to decide whose smile was brightest of the three. "Yes, that's Tessa." "She's lovely," Vanya murmured, feeling a connection to the young woman whose image smiled back at her. She had been that young once, that contented, immune to life's cruelties, ignorant of war, the atrocities committed in the name of power, The Game. She almost envied this woman her life, however short it had been. She had known great love, this Tessa. Duncan's love, Richie's...how many others? Truly this was not a person to mourn. Vanya thought she might trade places with Tessa herself, without regrets. She looked up to find Duncan studying her, and smiled, damning herself for a sentimental fool. "Sorry. Yes, this will be fine," she assured him, slipping back into physician-mode with hardly a ripple. "I meant to tell you, I have an extensive library just across the hall. Feel free to help yourself to something more interesting than Good Housekeeping." "Let me guess, you have all the works of Ibsen," Duncan quipped. "A few, though he was a bit of a poop in person." She giggled at her little faux-pas and the look on the Scot's face. "I think I'd better join Richie before I discredit myself entirely." She heard a chuckle rise behind her as she crossed the foyer and entered her office. She closed the door behind her and took the chair adjacent to the couch where her patient sat drumming the fingers of one hand on his pants leg. "Still uncomfortable here?" she asked, indicating the nervous gesture. "No," he laughed, stilling the motion, "I just have a hard time sitting still sometimes. Drives Mac crazy." He gave her a devilish smile that made her wonder just what fiendish delight he took in driving his teacher round the bend from time to time. "Did it drive Tessa crazy too?" "Oh, yeah. I can remember her threatening to put glue on my chair at mealtimes. She said it made her tired just to watch me bounce back and forth." "It sounds as if she knew you pretty well." "Yeah. Yeah, she did," Richie admitted, his tone wistful. "Better than anybody, I guess." "Better than Duncan?" "Yeah. Tessa was mortal. She remembered what it was like to be young. With Mac, well, he's been around for over four hundred years. I think sometimes he forgets." "That's understandable." "Yeah," Richie concurred, eyes downcast. "Tessa sounds like a very understanding person." She raised the photograph so that it was in clear sight. "Lovely, as well." "What's that?" Richie asked, leaning forward. Vanya handed it over and watched the redhead's face transform in front of her. "I didn't know Mac still had this," he murmured, gazing down at the smiling faces, a smile slowly lighting his own face as a memory surfaced. "Tell me about it." He laughed, captivating the other Immortal, his hands holding the picture lovingly. "Mac was in one of his 'back-to-nature' moods and dragged us out to the cabin for a week," he related. "After three days of getting up with the sun, chopping wood, and doing KP duty, I was ready to stage a coup." Vanya giggled at the mental picture of a younger, teenage Richie attempting such a feat. "I guess Tessa knew what I was thinking - she was good at that - and she talked us into picnicking at this spot near the water. Mac was still playing George of the Jungle, and I was sulking a little," he admitted. "I'm a city kid, you know? The woods always made me nervous. Anyway, Tessa picks up the easel she had me pack out there so she could do some sketching. She turned a little too fast and it clocked Mac hard - smacked him right on the back of the head and knocked him into the river. It was hysterical," he laughed, remembering. "Mac got up sputtering and spitting out a mouthful of water and I was laughing so hard I fell off the log I was sitting on. "I guess he didn't think it was so funny because he stomped back up the bank, and grabbed me before I could even get my legs moving. Next thing I know I'm sailing through the air. Let me tell you, it may have been a warm day for October but that water was freezing." This little aside had Vanya laughing herself. "So now I'm coughing up a lung and Tessa's laughing her ass off. I looked at Mac and he looked at me and we both grabbed one of her arms and dragged her in too. We were all laughing then." He stroked the photo lovingly. "That's when Tessa got the camera and set it up to take the picture. I guess you noticed we were drenched. You know, sometimes I think she knocked Mac into the river on purpose, just to get something started." His smile dimmed abruptly. "She always knew what to do. She was a real class act." Vanya had listened to his animated chatter with a smile tempered by sadness for what he had lost. She leaned in now until she was directly in his line of vision. "I'd like to know more about Tessa," she announced, finally seeing the opening she needed. "You want to know about T...Tessa," he replied in an uncharacteristic stutter. "Why?" "Why not?" Vanya countered. "No reason, I guess. I don't see much point in it, though. I mean, she's..." "Dead," Vanya supplied, noting the barely discernible wince the word invoked in her patient. "Yeah." The word was clipped, cold, the features that had been so full of life a moment ago, shadowed. "I already told you about her." "Yes, and I'd like to go back to an earlier discussion, if you don't mind?" Richie shrugged and shifted back against the cushions with exaggerated nonchalance. "Sure, why not?" "Good. Why don't you tell me about what happened that last day? The day you...entered your immortality," she said tactfully. "Start at the beginning and take your time; there's no rush." Richie took a deep breath and released it, hands rubbing his jeans- clad legs, trying to generate some heat in his suddenly-numb fingers. "The beginning...okay...the beginning. We were back from France and setting up the antique store so we could reopen. Mac had finally asked Tess to marry him and I was going to be the best man." A smile lit his face, but it was short-lived. "We were all drinking champagne and joking around." He frowned then, teeth worrying his lower lip. "Everything went sour after that. Mac ran off after some guy who was skulking around the place and Tessa and I stayed behind, fixing things up. Then this big guy came in. I thought he was a customer so I walked right up to him like some stupid kid." He was scowling fiercely as he pictured the scene in his mind's eye. "It only took him a second to take me out with a taser. It felt like someone shoved my head into a light socket. Next thing I know I'm on the floor and Mac is asking me where Tessa is. She was gone...*he* took her. While I was lying there, he just took her. He wanted to use her as bait to get to Mac," he explained, glancing up at Korsikov for the first time since starting his narrative. "It was his MO - using loved ones to draw Immortals into an area where he had the upper hand, then killing them, just for the hell of it. I mean, he wasn't immortal himself, he just had a grudge against us, I guess." Richie skirted around the subject of rogue Watchers, unsure whether she knew of the organization or not. "Bad timing again - Mac was out checking on some leads when the creep called the store the next day." "He called your home?" "Yeah. A lot of nerve, huh? Anyway, I took the call and he told me where I could find him. It was Mac he wanted, but he was already gone, so, like an idiot, I took off over there on my bike...my motorcycle." He looked over at her expecting to see condemnation, surprised to see only acceptance. "Aren't you going to tell me how stupid that was? How I should have waited for Mac to come back?" "No. Should I? It seems you've already gone over that ground yourself." He snorted with more than a little self-loathing. "Yeah, a million times. So, Richie Ryan-hero of the day, goes sneaking up to the house, only Mac's already there, lurking in the bushes; seems one of his leads paid off. He told me to stay put while he went inside to scope out the place." He shot Korsikov a guilty look. "I, um, I didn't stay put." "I guessed as much." "I'm an open book, right? So, next thing I know somebody clobbers me and I wake up in a closet. I guess he didn't expect me to come around so soon, but I've got a hard head," he said, with a harsh laugh. "When I found Mac, Tessa was with him and the other dude was dead." "I see." "Things got really weird after that. Surreal, Tessa would have said. I mean, Mac didn't yell at me for coming inside; I didn't even hug Tessa. Then Mac said to take Tessa home, that he wanted to look through the psycho's stuff. What kind of sense did that make? He'd been worried about Tess ever since she disappeared, but he wasn't coming home with us? It was like a badly written script." "You felt like someone else was controlling your actions?" Vanya asked, leaning forward in her chair, her interest piqued. "Maybe. Or maybe it was just bad karma. Like it was all meant to happen and there wasn't anything we could do to change it. I don't know how to explain it. Maybe I just want someone else to blame," he muttered. "Someone else? Who do you blame now?" "She shouldn't have been alone," was the cryptic reply. "Tessa? But she wasn't alone, she was with you, wasn't she?" He gave a self-contemptuous snort. "Yeah, well, it adds up to the same thing, doesn't it?" "Does it? Do you blame Duncan for staying behind?" "Mac?" Richie asked, genuinely surprised. "It wasn't *Mac's* fault we were shot." He started then, as though dismayed at what he had said, and threw her an anxious glance. "Look, why don't we take a break or something?" His case of the fidgets was back with a vengeance. "Not just yet," she said firmly, seeing a glimmer of hope, an opportunity to push through the wall Richie had built around himself over the last few years. "Where exactly were you both shot?" Richie closed his eyes a moment then opened them again, revealing a fleeting glimpse of deep sorrow. "By the car. Tessa kept looking back at the house like she felt something or heard something. I still don't know what it was. Then this guy came out of nowhere, waving a gun around, yelling for the keys to the car, Tessa's purse -- only she didn't have a purse. That pissed him off, he thought she was lying - he just went ballistic and started firing." The young Immortal's mouth thinned out into a hard line. "She didn't deserve to die like that, not Tessa." "No, I don't suppose she did," Vanya commiserated. "I was supposed to take care of her," he said in a small voice.