Date:         Mon, 6 Jun 1994 23:37:48 EDT
Reply-To:     Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.BITNET>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.BITNET>
From:         Hobert@AOL.COM
Subject:      CHANGES,  Part 2  (second half)

        Richie hid in an alley half a block from the old fire
station in San Francisco.  He'd been lounging here all
afternoon, waiting for her car to arrive.  Just before
dusk, he was rewarded for his efforts.  A familiar black
Saab parked by the side entrance, and a young woman
hurried to the door.  <She really is in a tizzy.>

                <From what you've told me, I assume she t
hinks Duncan is around.  What do you plan on doing?
Challenge her?  She's not exactly from the 'play fair'
school of fighting.  And she has a lot more experience
playing games than either of us.>

        <Well, if I can't take her head in a straight fight,
        there's always Plan B.>

                <Which is...>

        <Charm the pants off her.  And the rest of her clothes.>

                <And then what?>

        <Watch and learn, Tonto.  It's show time...>

        As he jimmied the lock in the service entrance on
the big front bay doors,  he felt the tell-tale buzz.
<Lucy.  I'm home.>  Letting his eyes adjust to the gloom,
he waited in a shadowy corner for her entrance.  He
didn't have to wait long.  Her footsteps sounded on
the wooden stairs.

        "So, Highlander.  You've finally found the time to
finish our little discussion."  Smoothly she circled
through the dark room, systematically searching and
slashing her way toward Richie's hiding place.  "Come
on, MacLeod, hiding in the dark.  I thought REAL MEN
iked it with the lights on."  As she swung, Richie blocked
her broadsword, sending a resounding metallic clang
around the space.  Cursing, she stepped back, settling
into a defensive crouch.

        "I was hoping we could pick up where we left off
before you decided I was expendable.  I was having a
great time."  Richie moved into the faint light.

        "What is this, MacLeod?  Sending a boy to do a man's
work?  Still can't take a girl's head?" she yelled to the
dark, pointedly ignoring him, searching for the Immortal
she mistakenly thought was near.

        "Mac isn't here.  It's just you and I, sweetie-pie.
And I think introductions were taken care of last time."
Understanding slowly crossed her face as Richie leapt
to attack.  Back and forth they traded blows, starting
with the moves Duncan had taught them both.  They were
evenly matched as Felicia tried new surprises, easily
countered by Mako's experience.  Stamina was the key
factor,  and each knew it.  As Richie grew tired and
sloppy, Felicia scored more hits, drawing blood on his
arms and chest.  He returned the favor once or twice.
<End this now, boy, or your head is forfeit!>  Blocking
Felicia's overhand slice, he grabbed her hands above her
head.  Nose to nose, he huskily breathed, "If you don't
kiss me real soon, I'm gonna be very disappointed."  Her
answer was a swift knee into his groin, leaving him on
his knees, defenseless.

                        "Say good night, Richie," she warned.

                <This was your plan, boy?  Suicide?>

        <Just wait, kimosabe.  She needs me alive.>

---------------------------------

        Later, upstairs, Richie was going through her closet,
trying to find a replacement for the shirt she had sliced.
"So why is it you have so much men's clothing?  Is your
significant other out at poker night?"

        "Let's just say I have a liking for masculine things,"
came her response from the kitchen.  "And, no, I'm at
loose ends right now.  So Duncan dumped you and you're
seeing the world.  Why come after me?"

        Coming out from the depths of her closet space,
Richie carried two shirts.  "You're the first Immortal
I've met since I left.  When I ran into you in Eureka, I
thought it would be nice to see you again.  I think I'm
still crazy about you.  And you've got to admit we were
special!  The sofa, the floor, my room..."  He held up both
for her inspection as she entered with a bowl.

        "The kitchen."  She dryly commented as she gazed
at both in turn.  "I think I like you better without a shirt. "

        "Shirts are history," as he flung them over his
shoulders toward the closet.

        "Supper?" she asked, holding out the stir fry for
his inspection.

        "Boink supper," he replied, as he grabbed the bowl
and tossed it after the shirts.  Somehow they managed
to instantaneously relocate to the bed in a horizontal
position, clothes left behind on the floor.  Soon they
were rolling passionately on the mattress,  the white
sheets tangled with their bodies as they fell off the bed...

< < < < <

        ...and rolled onto the floor.  From under the sheet
came Tessa's laugh and Duncan's ponytail.  The mass
writhed before the fireplace, trapped by the sofa and
coffee table.  Sounds of lips kissing, hands caressing,
and "What have we got here?" continued on.  An arm
here, leg there, her face pressed to his chest, and always
the sheet.  The sheet, wrapped here and yon, entwined as
much as the bodies were.

        Without warning, the glass door to the workshop
swung open.  In the dim firelight, Richie moved toward
his room, not noticing the duo on the floor.  A sharp intake
of breath drew his attention, his gaze brushing the living
area, resting finally on the bodies on the floor, desperately
trying to cover themselves with the one sheet.  Each froze
as they realized nothing could be salvaged except dignity.

        "Richie, it's not polite to stare," delivered in
Duncan's best mentor voice, coupled with his goofy grin
got Richie to focus on something other than Tessa.  It
took Tessa's "RICHIE!" to get him to back quickly into
the workshop, his face a mix of shock and terror.

        Duncan, belting a robe, was the first to find Richie,
sitting on the showroom platform facing the front door.
A door he arrived at little more than two weeks ago.
"I thought you said you'd be gone most of the night?"
Duncan asked as he sat beside his charge.

        "Well, Mac... no one knew where Angie was and
Gary didn't want to go bar hopping, and... It all just
kinda fell through.  I'm really sorry about busting in on..."
Flailing his arms helplessly, Richie's voice cracked.
He tried hard to appear undisturbed.

        "It's O. K.  We know it's going to be a little awkward
now that you're here.  It'll just take time."  Duncan
searched the young man's face, trying to find a clue
what was really going on.  The silence lengthened as
Richie stared at the floor.  "Where have you been all
evening?"

        In a voice Duncan could barely hear, Richie guiltily
replied, "Here."

        "What's really the matter?  I want to help, if you'll
let me," Duncan offered.

        Richie slowly raised his face to look at Duncan, eyes
wide and full of questions.  In a voice so soft it could
barely be heard, "Why me?"  There.  He had asked it.
The question burning in his mind since the storeroom.
Duncan was the first to look away, hunching over his
knees and glaring out the front window at the world
passing by.  <A world he says he has watched for almost
four centuries.  How many people has he known?>

        "I've been watching you ever since you broke into
my store.  You've played around, petty theft, breaking
and entering, everything else.  You've been slapped on
the wrist, patted on the back, and been thrown back to
the world.  After today, they toss you into prison.  I've
been there.  I've seen what prison can do to young people
not smart enough to clean up their act.  I knew someone
once...  and I won't let it happen again."

        <He's lying.  Or not telling the whole truth.>  Richie
paused, wondering if he really wanted to know.  "What's
in it for you?"

        "Someone to take care of Tessa when I'm out, you
know, otherwise engaged.  I won't worry as much with
someone here with her.  It would be nice to have somebody
around I can be myself with, all four hundred years worth.
I guess I'm being selfish.  It's very difficult cutting part
of yourself off, not saying things for fear of giving your
secret away."

        "And there's always being able to sneak away for
the afternoon frolic without closing the store, because
our trusted companion will manage things," interjected
Tessa as she approached from the back.  Also in a bathrobe,
she carried a tray in her hands.  Handing it to Richie as
she sat on his other side, she nudged him.  "After all,
this stalwart pillar of the community would hardly
think of stealing any of our valuables."

        "Hey, hey, hey.  I've given up my life of crime, people!"
Richie surrendered as he examined the tray.  Eighteen
cupcakes, each surmounted by a lit candle shone back.
"Especially when my new parole officer has such a nasty
habit of playing with sharp metal objects."  With a quick
puff, he blew them out.  "What are you going to do when
Mac turns four hundred?"

        "Hopefully not invite the fire department like last
year..." ribbed Duncan as he rose and walked toward the
office.

        "Don't blame that on me.  I did warn you to turn off
the smoke detectors.  I can't help it if you don't take
my advice!  And poor Sam, calling 9-1-1." Tessa yelled
to the back.  Duncan quickly returned to them with a
bottle of wine and three fluted glasses.  They sat there,
drinking, talking, laughing, and joking until dawn...

> > > > >

        ...struck the young man's body, lying alone amid the
silk sheets.  The sunlight warmed his skin as he drowsily
awakened.   Stretching in several directions, he mumbled a
"Goo Mornng" to Felicia.  She was standing at a side board
pouring wine into two glasses.  "The body of a twenty-six
year old, and the mind of a...twenty-six year old.  What
more could a young man ask for."  <His health.  If you don't
stop this, she really will take your head.>

         <She just had it.  Besides, when was the last time
        you had sex?>



                  <          >



         <Yeah, I thought that'd shut you up.>

         Felicia grinned as she approached the bed, glasses
in hand.  She set one on the nightstand for Richie and took
a healthy swig of her own.  "I'm gonna freshen up a bit,
but keep your motor running.  This should keep you company
until I can get back."  Running her fingernails quickly over
his bare chest, she sauntered into the bathroom, shutting
the door.  Richie reached for the glass, silently saluting
the door, and slowly brought the wine glass to his smiling
lips...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

         Thirty minutes later, Felicia opened the door,
staring down at the motionless body on the floor.
Stepping over Richie, she bent down to pick up the
wine glass from its tumble to the floor, before placing
it back on the side board.  Crossing to the dresser on
the far wall, she rustled through Richie's pants, looking
for his wallet.  Pulling out numbers, she tried several
on her cordless phone before someone answered.  "Actually,
I'm looking for a Duncan MacLeod.  Is he there by any
chance?  Richie gave me this number.  Could you take
a message?  Thanks.  Tell him it's a mutual friend of
Richie's from Philadelphia.  The one that likes tall
buildings.  The message is that Mr. Casanova came back
for seconds, and I'm at loose ends on what to do.  I just
thought MacLeod would have a suggestion or two.  Tell
him Richie is about to lose his head over me, and I think
MacLeod deserves a chance to rectify the situation.  No,
I'll call back.  Probably tomorrow."  Something, a
movement, drew her eye to the mirror over the dresser.
Behind her, standing with sword ready for the killing
stroke, stood a furious Richie.

              <Don't do this, boy.  This isn't right.  The Rules...>

         Ignoring the voice inside his head,  seeing only
Felicia's surprise and uncertainty reflecting back from
the mirror.  "You...You... I drugged..."

         "NOT!"  was the only thing he yelled as he swung
with all his might.  His blade easily parted her head
from her shoulders as the phone dropped to the floor.
Following close behind was her body.  Small sparks and
little bolts of electricity chased over her figure as it
landed on the floor.  They grew in intensity as the body
lay there, finally jumping to his outstretched hand.
Soon more joined, some flinging out into the air,
toward the windows, through the stereo, around his
sword.  The phone exploded from the overload sending
pieces flying toward Richie's unseeing face.  Jerked
here and there by the power, his naked body arched,
muscles tensing as they tried to absorb the energy.
In an eruption of power the windows were blown outward
into the morning sunlight, raining on the streets below.
As time passed the turmoil faded, losing it's intensity,
Richie's twitching body falling on top of Felicia's
unmoving one.  He tried to decide if he had done the
right thing.  Unanswered, uncaring, he lapsed into blackness.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

September 15, 1992  Have found the Highlander at an
antique store.  Has a girlfriend and boyfriend.  Set up
worked like a charm.  The boyfriend is really stupid.
Cute, but stupid.  I can use that.

September 17, 1992  MacLeod is totally fooled.  Richie
is wrapped around my finger.  Terrible in bed, but will
prove useful.  Tessa still hesitant, but lacks proof.
Have convinced MacLeod to teach me.  We start today.
Devereux came by the shop and dropped his wallet.
Sloppy.  I'd better pay him a visit before he ruins things.

September 18, 1992  The fool is teaching me everything
he knows.  I think killing Tessa and kidnapping Richie
will work best.  I don't think he'll care much if the boy
is already dead.  I'll dangle his life in front of Duncan
and see what happens.  Devereux is finished.  MacLeod
is next.  Then I will be the one.

         In the back of her diary, a list of names, including
Duncan MacLeod's, was hand printed.  Most had been
crossed out except Duncan's and Gregor Powers'.
(I could send you to the grave in a heartbeat, and I
wouldn't feel a thing.)  In the outside margin, the
word Albuquerque was written next to Greg's name,
along with a phone number.  <So that's where Mac
took him.  I think it's  time to visit old Gregor.
I owe him a little damage.  And what's a little
damage between Immortals?>  No response.  Mako
had been silent since Felicia's beheading.  Grabbing
his sword, he made his way downstairs, leaving the
body behind.  Checking outside the door, he noticed a
blond man trying unsuccessfully to melt into a
shadowy doorway.  Quickly he ran back upstairs,
moving to a window facing away from the Watcher.
Climbing through the opening, he dived head first,
flipping over as he fell, and landed unsteadily on his
feet in the alley.  <God, that hurts!>  He ran between
buildings, working his way behind the observer.
Inching along the wall, he silently moved to within
an arm's length of the doorway.  A forceful jab of
his fist into the unsuspecting stomach, and Blondie
was down for the count.  Hunting for the stylized
tattoo before knocking him truly unconscious, Richie
packed up and sped off on his motorcycle.  <No more
Watching for you today.  Pleasant dreams.>

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Continued Tomorrow...

Special Thanks to Claire & Mary Ann for the advice & help.

Thank you Linda, Obie (x2), Mike (Smith), Jay, Kay, and
Kathryn (Ohh, liked the crossover!) for your encouragement.
Part 2 is for you!
=========================================================================