Why Can't They Be Like We Were?
by Pun

Notes: I offered to write ficlets to order to celebrate my new web site. This one is for Celli who wanted Martial arts and Richie. Thanks go to Rhiannonhero for audiencing.

“Wrong. Do it again.”

“What are you talking about, man? You said forward cut, forward cut, right middle block, hopping step forward, right uppercut. That’s what I did!”

“It’s about more than getting the right moves. Let me see you do it again, and this time focus on the shifts in the flow of energy as you make each motion.”

“Mac, I am sick of doing this stupid form. It’s a waste of time anyway.”

“Training is never a waste of time,” Mac growled. “Training is the only thing you’ve got when you’re up against someone older, stronger and better.” He pronounced each word distinctly and clearly: “It will save your head.”

“Mac, Mac,” the kid made conciliatory motions with his hands, “I get it. I wanna train. All I’m saying is I’d rather spend my time on something more useful. Something I’ll actually be able to use when this older, better guy you’re talking about is trying to whack me.”

“Kata are a series of attacks and defenses that will help you in battle, not to mention the importance of the discipline and concentration you gain by taking the time to learn to do them correctly. When I studied under Hideo he only let me do forms for the first four months.”

“Yeah, I know,” Richie rolled his eyes in the timeless gesture of disrespect for one’s repetitive elders, “doing these forms over and over worked great for you, but maybe I need something a little more modern. Adam, back me up here.”

“Oh no. You’re not bringing me into this.” Methos held his hands up and tried to look annoyed but doubted he was succeeding. There was something wonderful about watching Mac with his student, brought the stuffing out of him in a way that Methos hadn’t realized he’d been waiting and wanting to see. The kid had absolutely zero comprehension of what it meant to be in the presence of the great Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. He was either unaware or more likely unconcerned by the fact that MacLeod could take his head with a mere flick of the wrist. Essentially, Richie treated all of the skill and wisdom Mac tried to impart to him, treated what Methos saw as the rather desirable privilege of being the sole focus of this man’s caring and concern, as an irritating burden. And Mac, for his part, seemed to take it all in with a frustrated yet amused indulgence and an unwavering resolve to keep on repeating himself until it penetrated Ryan’s thick skull.

Methos realized there was a name for that type of relationship. The kid was Mac’s son.


compliments or criticisms welcome, feedback to pun at popullus.net