Friday, June 15, 2001, 7:30 p.m.

Methos surveyed the barge. The deck held a large table, with a brilliant red tablecloth overlaid with a white one. On the table were two place settings of light fine china and crystal glasses. There were two large, comfortable chairs, by the leg of one chair sat a wine bucket, with a robust burgundy wine chilling. From inside the barge the delicious smells of the Châteaubriand and wild rice drifting over the river. Smiling, the oldest immortal walked over to the stove to stir the melted chocolate. Carefully, he dipped cherries, holding them by their stems into dark Belgian chocolate, then into white chocolate. Laying them down to cool, he turned and started to melt the cherry preserves. Checking the freezer to make sure he had the rich chocolate ice cream, Methos wondered what the brat thought when he got the invitation today.

* * *

Friday, June 15, 2001, 11:30 a.m.

The knocking on the door disturbed Richie’s shower. Dripping small drops of water onto the floor hotel suite that he shared with Duncan, Richie hurried to the door. Frantically, he tried to keep the towel from slipping off his waist.

"Yes!"

"Delivery for a Richie Ryan, monsieur," a voice called, through the door.

"Uhh, wait a moment. Be right there." Rushing, Richie wrapped himself in a robe, then opened the door, to find a young man in a bellhop uniform. "Uhh, a delivery?"

"Yes, sir." After handing Richie a long box, he turned away. "Tip’s taken care of, sir. Good day."

"Uhh thanks." Closing the door, Richie stared at the box.

"What’s that?"

"Huh, oh Mac, I have no idea."

"Well, aren’t you going to open it? Who knows- maybe you’ll find out what it is then."

"Very funny, Mac." Opening the box, he peered at. He found two roses and a card.

"Brat,

You are invited to dinner on the barge, tonight at 7:45. Dress nicely but formal dress not required. Dessert provided. Pajamas optional.

M.

"That sounds like the old man. Well if we leave within the half hour we will have enough time, I think."

"Whoa, enough time for what?"

"To get you some clothes for tonight. I’ve seen inside your closet, remember."

Leaving a stunned Richie behind him, MacLeod went off in search of his wallet.

* * *

Friday, June 15, 2001, 1:30 p.m.

"Yes, I think that look wonderful on you. We’ll take this, too."

"Mac. I can’t afford this."

"No, but I can. No argument. You may be an adult now, Richie but I still reserve the right to spoil you rotten when I choose. Now, I don’t think it needs a tie." MacLeod explained as Richie changed back into his street clothes.

"Thanks, Mac."

"No problem. Now how about a light lunch? If I know Methos he has planned a rather spectacular meal."

Talking companionably the two men walked to a small café to eat.

"Hey Mac, how come you’re so cool with this?"

"You mean, you and Methos on a date?"

"Yeah."

"Well, a while ago, I had an opportunity to read a watcher’s report. It examined the difference in you, Adam, and me. Watcher may just watch but they are curious. Anyway, this watcher was attempting to explain why we remained so close. According to him, I made Adam, for some reason of my own, my hero. Just as you made me yours. He observed that Adam apparently did something and I basically ran off to pout about it. When I let you down, you grew up. He conclusion, that the reason you, Adam, and I are so close is because you two have to raise me.

"I thought about what he said and came to a horrid conclusion. I, Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, am not always right. If Methos, is as the watcher says, my hero then I should trust him not to hurt you. Though I will kill him if he does. "

"Wow. Ok. Thanks, Mac. One question. Why is Methos on the barge?"

"Because he needed a place to stay last November and I let him."

After eating Mac and Richie walked back to the hotel and Mac sent Richie off for another shower. After laying out Richie’s new clothes for tonight, he went over to the phone. Dialing a number he knew as well as his number in Seacouver.

"Hello."

"Old man, if I hear of you being hard on Richie tonight, you and I will fight. He’s clan."

"MacLeod, if I am ‘hard’ on Richie tonight, it’s because he wants me to."

"He’s young, Methos."

"He’s an adult."

Grunt.

"So he’s clan, is he, MacLeod?

"Yes."

"He never mentioned it."

"I never told him- he resents what he perceives as being in debt to me. He would think I adopted him from pity rather than because I wanted to."

"Then how would he see this, MacLeod?"

"That I am an extremely nosy and over protective person, which I am. Goodnight, Methos."

Hanging up the phone, MacLeod mused on the day he told the current clan chief that he was adopting Richie. Aye, it is good to have a son again.

* * *

Friday, June 15, 2001, 7:15 p.m.

"Well?"

"Perfect, Richie, don’t forget the roses. And your helmet."

"Mac?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

"No problem." Waiting until Richie was out of sight, he added, "Ailleagan abaisd"

* * *

Friday, June 15, 2001, 7:45 p.m.

Richie pulled up to the barge and looked with shock at its transform-ation. The barge glowing with the sparkling of candles all about the deck. In the background, Richie could recognize a blues tune. Standing by the entry was Methos. He was dressed in a dark, rich maroon silk shirt, that flowed over his lean muscular frame to disappear into his black slacks.

"Welcome, Richie." Leaning to help Richie onboard, Methos brushed his finger over the back of Richie’s hand. "Would you like something to drink- wine?"

"Yes, thank you."

Leading Richie into the barge, they sat down on the couch. The music was playing so softly that you’d have strain to hear it. Methos went for the wine as Richie sank down into the couch.

Methos came back with wine, and they talked. They talked over many things, but very few that related, even peripherally to the Game. Music, places, even MacLeod was not off limits.

"Hungry yet?"

"Starved. What’s for dinner?

"First a light salad, followed by a Châteaubriand with French rolls, and then dessert."

"What’s dessert?"

"Not telling, Brat, but I will say it doesn’t have strawberries, cream, or pears in it." <smirk>

Groan. "When will you let me forget that?"

"Never, Brat, never."

* * *

Going outside, Methos escorted Richie to his seat, then went in to get the dishes. The sun had set, and above the barge the stars shone like tiny fire jewels in the indigo of the sky. The moon above was a sliver in the sky, like Diana’s bow. Placing a leafy green salad with green, yellow and red peppers in front of Richie, Methos sat down. Amazingly, he found Richie to be a good conversationalist. Before he knew it, the salads were gone, and it was time for the main course. Bringing the Châteaubriand to a side table, Methos cut several slices of the broiled beef. After placing a large plateful of meat and bread before the hungry strawberry blond, he sat down.

"Enjoying your meal, Richie?"

"Yeah, thanks. What kind of wine is this?" Richie asked, watching the candle flames spark brilliant red flares in the burgundy.

"It is ’96 Musigny Cuvee Vieilles Vignes, from the winery of Comte Georges de Vogue."

"I like it, it sort of tastes like fruit."

"Well, according to its description it’s ‘Brilliant, deep and stylish, deliver-ing supple and intense currant, spice, vanilla and violet flavors with a firm finish’. I thought it would go perfectly with the dessert."

"You still haven’t told me what is dessert."

"Like chocolate?"

"Who doesn’t?"

Laughing softly, Methos instructed "Richie, go into the living room. I’ll bring dessert to you."

* * *

Well, I must admit the brat is beautiful in that gray silk shirt. MacLeod must’ve helped him pick that out. The way the designs match his eyes. Who ever planned this, why him, why now? Heating up the preserves, he carefully stirred the cherry liquor into it. Grabbing the large bowl of fudge ice cream, Methos poured the melted preserves over it. Tossing some almonds on top, he took the bowl out to Richie.

"Chocolate ice cream with cherries and almonds for dessert."

"Brat. This is not merely chocolate ice cream with cherries and almonds, it’s cherries jubilee."

"Oh."

"Just watch it, Brat." Walking over Methos turned off the lights and lit a taper. Walking back to where the bowl sat. Methos lit the cherries. The fantastic blue flames lit the barge.

"Wow. It’s beautiful, Methos. How are we supposed to eat it?"

"We let it burn out, Richie, or we can snuff it out." He looks so fey in this light, I can almost believe in the Dannan, seeing him here. "Let’s let it burn out."

"Ok. What’s on your mind?"

"That you are so far over there and not next to me."

Getting up and moving to sit by Methos, Richie didn’t flinch as Methos pulled him closer.

"Better?"

"You are amazingly calm for a typical 20^th century male."

"Well, I didn’t grow up on the streets and learn nothing, Old Man."

"Cut the old."

"Hmmm, so Ancient One, did you ever have any fruit related dreams?"

"Once, yes."

"Tell me?"

"It was a long time ago, a certain red haired male was relaxing on a couch and eating a banana. His style was perfect, the way his tongue ran down the spine then over the top. He sucked on it gently and savored the taste." Rubbing his finger over Richie’s lips, he continued his tale. "He, "He kept teasing me, then he turned over and asked me if I wanted to join him for banana splits."

"Did you ever find him?"

"Yes."

"Did he ever show you that trick with the banana?"

"Not yet."

"Have you asked him?"

"Will you show me that trick with the banana, Strawberry Curls?" Methos asked, leaning over and stealing Richie’s breath.