Duncan waited until they heard the door close down the hall before confronting the learned doctor. "Just what happened here?" "It's hard to say. He was obviously distressed by the questions, even on a subconscious level. That's very rare, but not unheard of. Whatever is upsetting him runs very deep." She moved to her desk and leaned against it, one hand toying idly with the small crystal clock. "He mentioned Tessa. Has something happened lately that might have dredged up memories of her?" Joe seemed about to speak, but shot a look at MacLeod and held his tongue. It was the Highlander who intoned darkly, "Roszka." "Roszka?" "The man who shot Tessa and Richie that night. Richie ran across him a few weeks ago and was considering vigilante justice. I talked to him...he did the right thing." "And that would be?" "He let Roszka go." "Ah. I see," she murmured, withholding her opinion on that. "And this began shortly after that? Well. . .it seems we have a catalyst." "You think that's it?" Joe asked, sitting up straighter in his chair. "That's all it would take?" "Coming face to face with your murderer? Someone who stole your hopes for a 'normal' life...a wife, children -- who took away a dear friend in front of your eyes and shattered the only home you'd known since you were a child. Do I think that would be enough to cause emotional turmoil, even push him to suicide? Yes, I have no doubt that it could. I can think of very few things that would be more traumatic. The fact that Richie hasn't suffered from these episodes before this makes it extremely likely." "But why sleepwalk? What's he trying to find?" "We don't know that he's trying to *find* anything. Maybe he's reliving the incident or trying to get away from it. At this point we don't even know with absolute certainty that Roszka *is* the cause of all this and, until we do, I can't even start to help Richie move past it." Joe shook his head at that. "You've seen for yourself how unwilling he is to talk about it. I know from experience that he closes up tighter than a clam whenever the subject comes up." "That's true. He veered away from the subject in our initial consultation, as well," Vanya agreed, giving the problem some thought. "Hmm. I think for this next session I should be alone with him. Richie may be more open in front of a clinical observer than he is with his friends." She expected MacLeod to argue the point and was surprised when he assented. "You may be right. I think Richie follows my lead sometimes and keeps things to himself." "God save me from having two brooding Immortals on my hands," Joe prayed, gazing heavenward. Duncan scowled in his direction, biting back a scathing retort. "Do you think you can get Richie to open up to you?" he asked, his attention on Korsikov once more. "I'll do my very best, but in the meantime he shouldn't be left alone. If he keeps up this crusade to kill himself, sooner or later he'll succeed, Immortal or not. His subconscious has already caught on to the fact that taking his head is the solution. We saw where that led him. Maybe next time he'll seek out another Immortal and just stand there...easy Quickening. There are a great many unscrupulous Immortals out there who wouldn't turn that down." "I know," Duncan agreed unhappily, having already considered the possibility himself. He set his jaw with determination. "Richie will stay with me until we figure this out." "You may have a tough time convincing *him* of that," Joe pointed out. Duncan frowned him down. "He'll stay with me...even if I have to tie him down." "Let's hope that won't be necessary," Vanya remarked with a wry smile. Richie returned from his attempt to compose himself looking little better. He threw the group at large an overly cheerful smile before taking a seat on the couch once more and eyeing Vanya expectantly. "Richie, I've spoken to both Duncan and Joe and I think it might be best if you and I spoke privately now. Is that all right with you?" "We'll stay if you want us to, Rich," Duncan assured him. The young Immortal opened his mouth and closed it again, casting a quick glance at both of his friends before responding. Their concern was touching, but somewhere at the back of his mind came the nagging reminder that he was unworthy of it. "No, I'll be fine. You guys can head home if you want. I'll get a cab when we're done here." It was amazing how quickly concern could morph into displeasure. "Joe and I will be in the lobby, Richie," the Scot informed him, his scowl mirrored by the Watcher at his side. "That's right, son," Joe expounded. "We told you, we're not going anywhere. Try to get that through that thick head of yours." He playfully whapped Richie's head for emphasis, drawing a grudging laugh from the young Immortal. "I'll try, Joe." The mortal grunted his approval and turned toward the door, Duncan at his elbow should his support be needed. "Hey!" Richie called as they reached the doorway. He waited for the pair to turn back toward him before giving a heartfelt, "Thanks." Joe thumped his cane on the floor in response and stepped out into the hall. Duncan remained in the doorway, gaze locked on his protege for a full minute before Vanya's subtle throat-clearing brought him out of his fog. He smiled ruefully, hand on the doorknob. "Take your time," he told her, waiting for her nod before stepping out and pulling the door to behind him. "Alone at last," Richie quipped, laughing uneasily. "And I thought you loved me for my mind," she tsked, shaking her head at him and smiling as he laughed again, the sound more natural this time. "So, what do you think we learned today?" she asked, taking the seat across from him. "That I've got a mean left," he joked, indicating the Lalique crystal bowl which sat upon the coffee table once again. "Mmm," she murmured, seeing his attempt at evasion for what it was. "Shall we begin?" The rest of the session wound up being a lesson in futility. Richie seemed disinclined to discuss anything even remotely personal, and resisted all her attempts to draw him out. If she hadn't been so patient she might have boxed his ears, a child-rearing technique she had learned from the woman she'd once thought her mother. Still, he was no child, contrary to how she might perceive him. He was an adult, an adult who had endured more than his share of heartbreak in his twenty-one short years and, right now, she was all that stood between him and a possible mental breakdown...or an untimely death. No, that wasn't quite true. He had friends, at least two that she knew of, who - if she was any judge of character - would go to the brink with him. To find devotion like that was a rare thing, even for Immortals hundreds of years old. It was oddly comforting to know he had already engendered this kind of loyalty in mortal and Immortal alike. Maybe because she had searched so long in her life before she found its like. This was one battle she...*they* would not lose. ~~~~~~~~~ Another session, another dead end. Oh, Richie would speak freely enough of his recent past, but any attempt to draw him out on anything that came before was met with stoic, uninformative one-liners. While this in itself was an indication of suppressed feelings and possible danger areas, that knowledge didn't move Vanya any closer to determining the cause of the problem. She realized she needed a hook, something that would set the mood and allow her to segue into areas of concern. That she wasn't likely to get that hook from Richie was becoming more and more apparent. After much introspection, she decided to turn to Duncan, knowing she would have to take care not to breach the therapist-patient relationship in the process. She received her chance after the completion of the following day's session. With it pouring, yet again, Richie had volunteered to pull the car around to the door, saving Joe - who had insisted on accompanying them as often as business would allow - a good soaking. The redhead's mad dash to the parking lot gave Vanya the opening she needed to speak with the Scot and, surprisingly, it was Duncan who unknowingly opened the door for her request. "You're not getting very far with him, are you? I know how stubborn Richie can be. Maybe if I talked to him--" "Thank you, Duncan, but he might take umbrage at that. I do have a request, if it wouldn't be too much trouble. Do you have a photo of Tessa? It might help me if I could picture her more clearly," she continued, before he could question her. "From the little I've gotten out of Richie, I would think the woman was just short of being a saint." Duncan laughed easily at that. "She was no saint, but it's easy to forget her little foibles; she was a special lady," he said, sobering visibly. "Yes, sure, I have dozens of pictures of her. I'll go through them tonight." Vanya took his right hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "Thank you. It could help immeasurably." "I hope so," Joe added, having heard at least part of their conversation. "Richie's been trying to convince himself that he's not having any more trouble sleeping." "Is that true?" Vanya returned, startled. If so, it would be the first she'd heard of it. Joe snorted, glancing sideways at the Highlander. "No, it's not," Duncan answered for him. "He's still sleepwalking, but I've caught up to him before he's managed to hurt himself. I've been able to coax him back to the couch without waking him, but he knows it's still happening; I've been very upfront with him about it." "Denial," Vanya stated, nodding. "It's quite common, but I had hoped we'd moved past that. Funny, he hasn't attempted to convince me that he's on the road to improvement," she mused aloud. "Maybe because he figures you'd be able to see through him. Hell, a blind man could see those dark circles under his eyes. He may be getting more sleep than he did when he was on his own, but it's not enough for someone who insists on being on the go all the time. I've threatened to sit on him if he didn't settle down, and I know MacLeod has had to put a tight rein on him for his own good." "I'm surprised he hasn't rebelled." Vanya had to fight a smile at the thought of the two older men chasing after the younger. "He throws me dark looks and mutters a lot," Duncan informed her, with a wry smile of his own, "but he hasn't pushed it. Richie's not a fool, he knows we're just looking out for him. He may not like it, but he accepts it." The sound of a horn honking brought the conversation to an abrupt close. "That's him now. Later, doc." The Watcher turned away with a wave. "Bye, Joe." She faced Duncan once more. "You will remember the photo?" "I'll find one tonight," he promised. "Same time tomorrow?" "I'll be here." Duncan turned up the collar of his trenchcoat and followed Joe out into the deluge, letting the door swing shut behind him with a muffled whoosh.