"Maybe I didn't take his head," Duncan said loudly, "but he is dead because of me." Duncan stared into the depths of the hot, black liquid, then continued more softly, "because of who I am." Duncan's soul felt as dark as the coffee. He wanted the pain to go away. He wanted to stop feeling. In his mind Duncan heard Richie speaking, repeating Duncan's own words back to him. {{They all stay with you. Everyone you've loved, and everyone you've killed, they never leave you. When you stop feeling, when you stop hurting, that's when you're dead inside, and that my friend, is when I'll worry about you.}} "Richie," Duncan whispered. Having Richie's Quickening inside him wasn't the same as having his friend back, but at least Duncan knew in his times of need, like how, Richie would be there to help him.
Joe sipped his coffee and wondered what MacLeod was thinking. As one of the few mortals in the world with an intimate knowledge of their life, Joe still couldn't begin to understand what went through the mind of an Immortal at a time like this. A significant part of their existence was kill or be killed. For honorable men like MacLeod or Marcus Chen, where was the dividing line between justice and revenge? "Are you going to go after the guy?"
"He's got to be stopped, Dawson. An Immortal who kills mortals can't be allowed to live. Harry Olsen's wife and three good men are dead because of his games, because of his cheating."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. How do you find a ghost? How do you find someone with no name?"
Joe placed a hand on Duncan's arm. "Together, my friend, we'll find a way."
With a deep understanding of the conflict such a choice caused the Watcher, Duncan said, "Thanks."
Duncan walked up the steps of the gaily decorated house. After knocking, he stared at the Santa figure hanging from the eaves. He was tangled in the lights, and some of his reindeer were hanging off the roof with him. Richie had bought the figure for Susan and helped her put it up. They'd all gotten a big laugh out of the silliness of it. Duncan almost smiled.
"Duncan, what are you doing here?" Susan asked. She rubbed the tears from her puffy, red eyes and opened the door. "Come in."
"No, I can't stay. I only came to tell you..." Duncan paused. It was difficult to let a mortal into even this little bit of his world, but this woman Richie planned to marry had a right to closure. "The man who killed Richie is dead."
"How?" Susan questioned. "When?"
"It's better if you don't know the details."
"But, how can you be so sure the bastard paid for what he did?" Susan asked angrily. When Duncan said nothing, just looked at her with a steady gaze that bore into her soul, realization dawned. Susan's curious nature made her want to know the whole story, but something in the manner of this dark, mysterious friend of Richie's told her to not push. "Thank you," was all she managed to say.
Duncan gently brushed a tear from Susan's cheek, turned and walked away.
Closing the door, Susan wished again that Janice was with her. Now more than ever she needed to talk to her big sister. With nothing left to keep her in Seacouver, Susan decided she was going to go to South America to help Janice and Carl in the hospital. She felt Richie would approve of her choice to give care to those who needed it most.
As he got into his car, Duncan decided that tomorrow he would go to the Salvation Army and see if he could find out something about the child Bobby and his mother. Pulling out into the street, Duncan began to make plans. He would establish a fund in honor of Richard Ryan, a little kid nobody wanted as he grew up, to help Bobby and other children in need.
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