by Kevin H. Robnett
(Musical Suggestion - Any of the Windham Hill Winter Solstice albums.)
"Jees, I'm stuffed," Richie said, settling into the wide-backed chair in Duncan's loft. He threw his head back, resting it, lazily watching Duncan walk to the liquor cabinet. The only thing missing was... ( a fireplace. With a blazing fire. And...) He wouldn't finish the thought. It still hurt, a little. (And Mac doesn't need to be hurt. Not right now.)
Duncan poured himself a snifter of brandy, turning and silently inquiring if Richie wanted something. The redhead shook his head no, so Duncan closed the cabinet door. He quickly sat in the other chair, both turned to face the sofa across the coffee table, but with enough of an angle to see each other. The two Immortals had sat here, like this, many times before. "You're not sorry I got dinner from a restaurant, are you?" he asked before taking a sip.
Richie smiled. "What with David, and Garrick, then that lawyer, I didn't expect you to try and fix anything." He was glad everything was back to normal, for them anyway. Too much had happened in the last few months, testing and straining their relationship. But they had survived.
"It's just not like..." Duncan faltered, sorry that he had broached the subject. He took a swig of the liquor, trying to think of a way out.
Richie noticed. "Like our last Christmas Eve all together? I'm fine, Mac. You can talk about her." Duncan visibly relaxed, looking a little guilty, and a little relieved. "I don't expect my life will ever be quite the same, but that doesn't mean nothing will be as good. Or even better."
The Highlander sighed, regretting underestimating the man beside him. Richie wasn't a kid anymore, if he had ever truly been one. "It's... you seemed so happy," Duncan said. He hoped his student would be that happy again, someday. Both of them.
"Oh, I was. Don't get me wrong. I was in heaven," Richie said, wistfully gazing off, smiling. "I always hoped one of my foster families would be like that. But I learned real early that things never stay the same, for long." Duncan absently nodded, agreeing. "I hope I've learned to take things as they come, and try to never look back."
"Wise words, my friend, especially for Immortals," Duncan whispered, taking another swig. The lights draped on the little tree on the desk sent brief flashes of colored light around the loft, illuminating the place. It was hardly the tree Tessa had come home with that year,...
... filling one whole corner of the dining room. The blinking bulbs were reflected in the glass wall of the shower, giving the entire area a cheery sparkle. Tessa walked into the kitchen with the gravy bowl, just as Duncan spoke to Richie. "What now? Presents?" the Immortal asked, scraping the last plate and handing it to the redhead.
The youngster lowered the dishes into the sink, briefly washing his hands. "You know..." he started, drying them on the hand towel. "I've always wanted to see all the expensive houses lit up. Especially in a convertible!" He looked so eager, Duncan could hardly refuse. Tessa wanted to stay behind, but neither man would hear of it. "You gotta come, Tess," Richie pleaded. "It wouldn't be any fun without you."
So the French woman found herself in the T-bird, between the guys, as they rode around town, driving up and down the residential streets. Each time they turned a corner, Richie's eyes widened, taking in all the colors and splendor. They drove for hours, cruising at slow speeds, huddling together in the cold, talking and laughing, drinking hot chocolate from a thermos. It was midnight when Tessa finally nudged Duncan, silently pointing to the redhead, fast asleep, his head resting on Tessa's shoulder.
Once back at the shop, Duncan gently carried him into his room, laying him on his bed as Tessa tucked the covers over him. Richie was softly snoring as the two left, closing his door. They snuck quietly to their bedroom, the presents left for morning.
One present, wrapped in brightly colored paper and bow, still sat on the coffee table, placed there by Richie before they had eaten. "You gonna open it? Or stare at it all night?" Richie asked, nudging it with his shoe. Duncan shook his head, clearing away the cobwebs of the past. He set the glass down, reaching for the package. It was heavy, but comfortingly rectangular. One swift rip of the paper, and Duncan could tell it was a book. Two more swipes, and the paper was free, fluttering to the floor. It definitely was a book. Duncan laughed when he read the title, 'THE ATLAS OF SACRED PLACES.' "I thought that might come in handy, what with the Gathering and all," Richie merrily said.
Duncan looked over at the grinning redhead, holding it up for inspection. "I hope this comes in a travel size," he commented. That got a laugh from the young Immortal. "Well, at least I can throw this at them. That'd stop them for a moment." Duncan tossed the book on the coffee table, its landing making a sound reminiscent to a rock at Stonehenge falling. That brought another chuckle to the pair. In between breaths, Duncan gestured at a shelf above the stereo system. Richie got up and walked over to it, finding the wrapped box with ease.
"Mac, you shouldn't have," he said, his eyes saying something completely different. Once the paper was off, Richie held up a small box, fifteen by four inches square, made of wood. He examined it, trying to guess what was inside. With a look at Duncan, he popped the lid, gasping when he saw what was inside. It took him a moment to reach in, pulling out a dagger, a companion to the rapier Duncan had given him last year. Turning it over in his hands, he gaped at it, then at Duncan, words escaping him.
Duncan smiled, pleased with the reaction. "It's a main gauche. If you want, I know someone who can teach you the style," the Highlander casually offered, drawing a circle on the chair arm with his finger, waiting for Richie to trip over the table.
The redhead stood still. "Mac... I can't..." he stuttered, still unable to find words. He slowly moved back to his chair, unable to take his eyes off the weapon. "Thank you," he finally said, gratitude in his eyes.
It was nice, making someone happy. Duncan picked up the brandy again, taking a drink before speaking. "I actually was going to give it to you last year, but..." He stopped when Richie's eyes darkened, before the redhead looked away. It was only a moment before the young man looked back, the fleeting emotion gone. "Where did you spend Christmas, last year?" Duncan asked.
"I was in Nebraska," Richie began, eyes unfocusing, remembering. "There was a family, the Johnsons. They had a farm near Lexington. They let me sleep on the floor, by the fire." He wrung his hands, feeling the cold of that winter. "They had a real simple Christmas. Dinner, a few presents. And the kids asked me all kinds of questions. It was nice." The memory over, he glanced back at Duncan, aware they had never really talked a lot about their time apart, like it was only a distant dream. "You?" the redhead began, the word somehow turning into a yawn.
Duncan finished his glass, setting it aside. "I was in Paris," he said, trying hard not to picture the barge. "Alone." Richie nodded thoughtfully, getting up, letting it end at that. He slowly walked back to the sink island, grabbing his winter coat. Duncan turned in the chair, watching as his student put it on. "Plans for tomorrow?" he asked, changing the subject.
The redhead adjusted the collar, then zipped up the front. "Angie conned me into helping serve Christmas dinner at the shelter where she works. Then I'm taking her out for supper. Someplace fancy." He reached into the coat's pocket as Duncan sat back, once more looking the other way.
"I thought I'd drop in on Craig and Nancy. With Michelle gone..." Duncan stopped when Richie's hand appeared in front of his face, holding a small black box, the kind used for jewelry. A green ribbon was wrapped around it, sporting a tiny bow. Hesitating, he gently took it from his friend's hand. He heard Richie speak behind him, sounding miles away.
"She bought it after Michael... I didn't know when would be a good time."
Duncan heard Richie walk away, heading for the door. His hand trembled, holding the gift. Gently he set it in his lap. Softly he spoke, stopping the redhead. "Do you sometimes wish..." the Highlander began, but couldn't finish.
Richie didn't, couldn't turn back. But he did know what Duncan wanted. "That she never died? That I had jumped in front of her? That we were still..." His voice faltered. "I'd do anything." He walked the two steps to the door, reaching out for the knob. "Merry Christmas, Mac," he said, before opening the door and quickly leaving.
"Merry Christmas, Richie," Duncan replied, almost to himself, waiting until he no longer felt the other Immortal. Slowly, carefully, he pulled the ribbon off. With shaky hands, he opened the case, a gold locket on black velvet sparkling in the light. Gently he opened it, revealing a small picture of Tessa, the engraved words 'Always In My Heart' on the opposite face. "Thank you, my love," the Highlander whispered in the silence. The tree lights changed from red to green, then to blue. Gone, but never forgotten.