Joe grunted his acceptance of that. "Then too, some of us grow attached to our assignments and just want to spare them the consequences of dying in the open. I've seen it before, especially with older Watchers and young ones, like Richie. They feel a little protective -- wanna give the kids a chance to make it." "I suppose I should be grateful to him. Richie doesn't need another public death so soon - and not here in Seacouver. It would be pretty hard on him to have to stay clear of his hometown for ten or twenty years. But this doesn't make any sense, Joe. Why would Richie intentionally step in front of a car, or jump in the bay? I've known him since he was seventeen and he's never been what I'd call 'self-destructive'. Reckless, yes, but he doesn't go out of his way to get hurt." "If it makes you feel any better, I agree with you," Joe said. Duncan sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "You know, I honestly don't think Richie's even aware of what he's doing." "What? Like he's sleepwalking? That's his Watcher's theory." "Yeah, maybe." "Well, if he is suddenly sleepwalking, there's something behind it. He still hasn't said anything to you?" "No, but I didn't push him today. I wanted to wait until I had more to go on." "So now what?" Joe asked at length, surreptitiously watching the Scot's face while trying to downplay his own apprehension. "Now I stake out his place and follow him if he leaves. We may know what's been happening to Richie, but we don't know why, and I intend to find out." "Want some company?" The Scot seemed surprised, spurring Joe to add, "hey, you're watching Richie, I'm watching you. I'll give Cal the night off and watch you both. I'm sure after all this stuff with the kid he'll be glad for a good night's sleep." Duncan opened his mouth to protest, but the younger man cut him off. "I know you don't *need* my help, but I'd like to be a part of this, if you'll let me." The plea was given with such candor that the Highlander felt small for even contemplating leaving the Watcher out. His help had already proved invaluable, and it well might again. Duncan gave him a small, weary smile. "Thanks, Joseph." "De nada. Don't forget, MacLeod, Richie means a lot to me, too." "I know, and I'm glad you've never let any disagreements we've had in the past keep you from being there for him." "I wouldn't do that, Mac. My friendship with Richie doesn't have anything to do with you and me. I'm not sure it ever did." Duncan smiled warmly at the Watcher for that, grateful to know that Richie had a stalwart friend in the silver-haired bar owner, one that wouldn't turn away from him when the going got rough. "What time did Richie's Watcher say these excursions of Richie's took place?" the Scot asked. "It sounded like they were all in the wee hours of the morning. Why don't I meet you here at midnight and we can drive over to his place together?" "If you're sure you want to do this..." "I'm sure," Joe assured him, climbing awkwardly to his feet while Duncan did the same with a grace he silently envied. "All right, Joe, I'll see you tonight." The Immortal walked beside him to the elevator. Joe stepped inside, then turned to face him again as he lowered the gate. "Don't worry, MacLeod, we'll figure this thing out." The Highlander watched him out of sight, then "I hope so," he murmured to the now-empty room. ~~~~~~~~~ Joe was prompt, as always, and the pair left the dojo parking lot just past midnight. They pulled into the street behind Richie's apartment building ten minutes later and made their way to the building's dingy atrium, Duncan matching his stride to that of his companion. "You take the elevator, Joe, I'll take the stairs. That'll put us at opposite ends of Richie's hallway - he won't be able to leave without one of us seeing him." "Good idea," the Watcher agreed. He moved off, his cane tapping out a tattoo on the tiled floor. Duncan waited until Joe was on his way up before making his way to the stairwell and starting the climb. Reaching Richie's floor, he stepped into the hall, spotting Joe almost immediately. He moved to the far end of the hall as Joe stepped back out of sight, each preparing to spend what might be a long, wakeful night alone. Less than two hours later, Duncan sensed an approaching Immortal and rose from his crouch, alerting Joe of movement a moment before Richie's door opened and the young Immortal stepped into view. Wearing worn, faded jeans and a form-fitting T-shirt, the redhead moved resolutely for the stairwell, looking to neither side, but staring straight ahead as he went. One hand reached out and turned the knob and he pulled the door open, stepping inside and letting it drift shut behind him. Duncan hastened from his post, following in Richie's footsteps, scarcely registering the tapping of Joe's cane as he joined him. They gave each other the barest of glances, then Duncan ducked his head into the stairwell briefly, pulling back to hiss at the Watcher. "He's going up." "Up? Why would he go up?" "I don't know, but I'm going to follow. Stay here, I'll pick you up on the way down if he changes direction." Joe nodded, and Duncan took off on cat-like feet, his long legs allowing him to take the stairs two and three at a time. He hung back enough to keep Richie from sensing him, but not so far that he couldn't hear the younger man's footsteps on the stairs above. He expected the redhead to exit at one of the two habitable floors above his, but Richie continued upward until he reached the roof, the heavy metal door groaning loudly on rust-coated hinges as he pulled it open. Duncan reached it before it clanged shut, peering around the edge, his eyes scanning the dark for any sign of his student and friend. Motion near the far end of the roof caught his eye and he moved cautiously in that direction, leery of tipping Richie off until he knew his agenda for the evening. He could just make out the bejeaned form in the meager light from the street below, and cocked his head to the side as Richie climbed onto the outer ledge without hesitation. His mind accepted what he was seeing a split second too late to leap forward and grab the young Immortal before he stepped off the ledge into open space. He did race forward then, crying Richie's name as he did, grabbing the ledge with suddenly ice-cold hands as he gazed over and down. Richie lay in a tangle of broken limbs in the alleyway below, his head in a pool of rapidly-spreading blood, the beam of the nearest streetlight catching him in its yellow glow. Duncan turned and sprinted back to the stairs, no longer mindful of the noise he was making as he took them four at a time back to Richie's floor. He found Joe waiting where he had left him, and took a few precious moments to spit out "alley, left side of building," before ducking back inside and racing down the remaining flights. He found Richie's body undisturbed and quickly pulled him behind a dumpster, out of the streetlamp's beam. A few minutes later he heard a loudly whispered "MacLeod" and leaned out of their hidey-hole to wave Joe forward. The Watcher maneuvered gingerly through the debris in the alley, stopping in front of Duncan and the young man cradled in his lap. "Good God, MacLeod, what happened to him?" he asked, staring aghast at Richie's condition. "He jumped," was the carefully composed reply. "Jumped? You mean fell." "No, Joe, he jumped. Deliberately. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. He just jumped," Duncan repeated, one hand resting gently against Richie's forehead, the other arm wrapped protectively around the young man's chest. "You might as well go home," he said at length. "I'll stay with him till he revives and make sure he's all right. I'll probably spend the night here, just to be sure." Joe thought about arguing, but the strained look on the Scot's face changed his mind. "Okay, Mac. I'll call in the morning and see how you're both doing." A nod from the Highlander and he started his trek back to the car, leaving the Immortal to his silent vigil. After another fifteen interminable minutes of waiting, Duncan felt the first stirrings of Immortal presence. Moments later, Richie gasped loudly and struggled for that first clean breath, lungs straining to fill once more. His eyes flew open, his expression one of momentary panic, the dark blue of his eyes a deep onyx in the dim light. Duncan tightened his grip as Richie instinctively struggled against the arms that held him immobile. "Richie, stop. It's me. It's Duncan." "Mac?" the young man breathed, stilling instantly. He coughed raggedly then, small droplets of blood spraying from his lips as his throat fought to clear itself. "Wh...where are we? What happened?" Duncan released his grip on the young Immortal and helped him to a sitting position, keeping one hand on his arm for his own peace of mind as much as Richie's. "You had a little accident," the Scot related, with a calm he didn't feel. Richie looked down at himself, then up at his surroundings; a deep shudder ran though him. "Yeah, an accident," he muttered weakly. "Come on," Duncan urged, climbing to his feet and giving the redhead a hand up. "Let's get you back upstairs. Then you and I are going to talk." Hearing the steel in his teacher's voice, Richie looked up, swallowing hard. "Yeah, talk," he said unhappily. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other after that, Duncan's hand at his left elbow to steady him as they made the return trip to his apartment. Once inside, Richie slumped down onto the couch and ran a hand back through his hair, grimacing at the sticky blood matting the short red curls. "Okay, Rich, it's time for you to tell me what's going on," Duncan declared, taking up a rigid stance directly in front of him. Richie shrugged, that small movement nearly taxing what remained of his strength. "What's to tell? I don't know what's going on, Mac. I wish I did, but--" "I believe you." "What?" Richie squeaked, mouth dropping open in surprise. "You do?" "Yes, I do," Duncan replied with a wry smile, abandoning his austere posture. Richie tilted his head to the side, regarding the older man suspiciously. "Why? Even I don't believe me," he admitted; blue eyes grew wide as the realization hit him. "You know something, don't you?" Duncan nodded, sitting down beside him and taking in the dried bloodstains on the couch's surface with a jaundiced eye. Richie was going to have to do some major reupholstering when this was all over. "I have a few things to tell you that you may not already know, but it can wait until morning. Why don't you turn in now, and we'll talk about it then?" "No way, Mac," the young man said with grim determination, looking more himself than he had at any time during the week. "I want to know now. You don't understand how I feel...how I've been feeling. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than everything I've imagined." "Maybe you're right," the Scot conceded. "Maybe getting everything out in the open right away is the best thing for all of us." He ran a hand across the back of his neck, massaging aching muscles. "All right, let's start at the beginning. After I saw the condition you were in when you came home yesterday, I decided to get some information from your Watcher." "You went to my Watcher to talk about me?!" Richie demanded, horrified at the prospect. Not surprised at the outburst, Duncan raised a hand to silence the irate young man. "Hear me out, Rich. I know this sounds like a betrayal, but you may feel differently before I'm finished." Richie glared at his teacher, then settled down with an audible huff and an unmistakable pout. The Highlander smiled approvingly at the halted tantrum and returned to his explanation, covering everything up to, but not including, that night's foray into the alleyway below. "My Watcher told you all that?" Richie muttered. The young Immortal's distress had grown exponentially as each detail of his evening exploits unfolded. "Not me...Joe," Duncan admitted, finally relating that little undisclosed piece of information. "Joe knows?" Richie asked, looking even less pleased at that bit of news. "I had to tell him, Rich. I needed to know what was going on and I couldn't go to your Watcher myself." "Yeah," Richie reluctantly agreed, falling into a temporary funk, hands balled into fists in his lap. "It's okay, Mac," he said, finally. "Joe's a friend. I guess I'm just a little embarrassed." "You don't have any reason to be embarrassed, Richie," Duncan countered, sounding more stern than he intended. "Whatever the reason, you don't seem to have any control over this and we need to find out why." "So you came here tonight to find out if it was true?" Richie deduced. "Joe and I came to see for ourselves, yes." Noting the absence of a certain Watcher the young Immortal commented, "I guess it freaked Joe out, huh?" "No, Richie," Duncan said mildly. "I told Joe to go. He was interested, believe me." "Well, it's no big deal now, anyway. If I'm sleepwalking, maybe it'll stop on its own." "And maybe it won't," Duncan countered, bracing himself for an argument. "You can't keep going like this. You're too young to die night after night and not have it affect you. And just how much longer do you think you can function without an uninterrupted night's sleep? Look at yourself, your hands are shaking so badly you couldn't hold a sword steady if your life depended on it. And it does, Richie." As predicted, Richie had opened his mouth to argue halfway through Duncan's analysis of his situation. He closed it again, reluctantly accepting the logic of it. "Okay. Something's gotta give. I agree with you. But I don't know why I'm sleepwalking, Mac. How can I stop it if I don't know why I'm doing it?" Duncan had been preparing for this moment since hearing Richie's Watcher's report. "I have an old friend in France. I'll call him in the morning and ask his advice on where to go with this." "An *old* friend?" Richie asked, eyebrows raised. "A *very* old friend." "Why do I get the feeling everybody's going to know about this before it's over?" the young man muttered to no one in particular. He straightened then, regarding his friend and mentor with an open, trusting gaze. "Okay, Mac. If you think it's the right thing to do." A shaky hand came up to brush across his eyes and a slight tremor ran through him. The redhead was obviously fading fast, exhaustion taking its toll. "Go to bed, Richie. I'll stay out here and make sure you don't take another walk tonight." "I'm fine, Mac. You don't have to do that." "I know I don't *have* to." He gave his young friend a fond smile. "Go to bed, Richie." "Okay," Richie acquiesced, lacking the strength to argue further. "Thanks, Mac," he added timidly, climbing to unsteady feet. "You'd do it for me," Duncan said with assurance, and smiled at the younger man as Richie stopped in front of him. "Yeah," he said simply, a smile finally breaking through his haggard visage. "Night." He resumed his plodding pace toward his room. Duncan watched the retreating form, resisting the urge to follow and tuck the youth in. "Sleep tight." "From your lips to God's ears," he heard Richie mutter softly. "I hope so, Rich. I hope so," the Scot murmured, adding his own heartfelt prayer as he stretched out on the couch, facing the open bedroom door. Sleep pulled at him and he gave in to it, knowing his warrior's skills would alert him to Richie's movements. Morning would come all too soon. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~