Date:         Wed, 8 Jun 1994 23:37:02 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 3 of 5  (First Third)

Changes
by Kevin H. Robnett


Part 3


          The starry night sky loomed over the lonely desert
 campsite.  A small fire illuminated the area revealing a
traveler gazing into the flame's depths.  The flickering
light danced across looming rock, throwing shadows here
and there.  At the edge, a motorcycle sat, its journey complete
for another day.  The small meal of chips and hot dogs
grumbled loudly from his stomach, as did the remains
of the empty brown bottles.  Oranges and yellows danced
in the glazed eyes, the head nodding in time to some unheard
drummer.  A stray thought crossed the lethargic mind,
whirling around in the dark space, growing ever slightly,
until...

      <How did you know she was in the bathroom at the rest stop?>

     Silence was the reply.  The only reply Richie expected.
He was crazy to expect anything else.  Everything gone,
and now this.  The alcohol didn't help, being alone didn't help.
And no one else would lift a finger.

     <Please Mako, I need to talk.  I didn't mean for it to happen.
I just lost control.>

          <You little son of a.... You've made your bed.  Live with it.>

     <I am living with it!  Living this nightmare.  I just want it
to stop.>

          <I guess I should make allowances for your youth and
          inexperience.>

     <And how old were you when you became Immortal?  Did
you already know everything?>

          <I was thirty-seven..  And no, but my head wasn't
          just a decoration.>

     <Did you fight many Immortals?>

          <Not much.  I chased lawbreakers, not our kind.  Unless
          they pressed the matter, like a certain hothead....>

     <Am I a bad person?>

          <From what I've seen of you?  Well...>

     <I'm not kidding.  Am I evil?>

          <Why do you ask?>

     <I... I enjoyed killing Felicia.  And you.>

          <What of it?>

     <What if I enjoy it too much?  Will I turn into another
Quentin Barnes?  Or Felicia?>

          <I can't answer that.>

     <How about Felicia and the bathroom?>

          <Back to that.  I don't know.  Happy?  I don't know everything.>

     <Is that how you tracked me to my apartment after I
picked up Laura?>

          <Ha ha ha ha ha.  Oh, that's choice!  Didn't you pay
          attention with Felicia?  I called my friends in Motor
          Vehicles with a license plate number.  How do you think
          bounty hunters track fugitives?>

     <I really don't know what to expect.  I'm just sitting here
slowly losing my mind.>

          <At the rate you're going, you'll lose your head as well.>

     <I know.>

          <Are you planning to kill this Greg person also?>

     <No, just scare him..>

          <Are you sure?>

     <What are you going to do, stop me?>

          <No.  It's your life.  I've already lived mine.>

     <I'm sorry about that.>

          <Did you know you say that an awful lot?.>

     <Y..Yes.>

          <Go to bed, Richie.  We'll talk in the morning.>

          Slowly the fire died, letting the darkness encroach on
the lonely figure.  The campsite quietly faded, as Richie's
consciousness did.  Sleep took him, forced to grow too fast
in these last few months.  It was then the dark haired demon in
his mind struck, full of anger and savagery at her defeat.
Another battle would be fought tonight, just as deadly as
the one earlier.  Only this time, the question was who would
control the body...

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

          Night surrounded the outside of the dojo, with fog
from the bay creeping slowly up the street.  Lights blazed
from the windows as two men sparred, hand to hand,
throwing shadows along the walls.  Attack, thrust, feint,
chop, kick, throw.  It ended, and the dojo went dark.  In
the distant mountains, a lone wolf's howl broken the silence.
Immediately, lights flared from the top story, illuminating
the loft.  Below, a figure exited the second story door,
locking it, and moved down the street, bathed in the glow
of the full moon, peeking out above the tall building.
Richie, dressed in black, left the sheltered corner and
approached Charlie, unsuccessfully fighting Felicia's
control all the way.  "Hey, Richie, where the hell have you..."
 The sudden pain in the instructor's gut cut off his voice.
Looking down, he saw Richie's sword plunged into his
stomach up to the hilt.  Looking up, amazement and
confusion crossing his face as he tried to speak.  Only
little trails of blood left his mouth, dripping down his
chin.  Another twist of the sword, and it was over,
Charlie's limp body falling to the street, the fog quickly
hiding it from sight.  Felicia cleaned the sword and
Richie's bloody hands on the black man's jacket.  {And now
for the Highlander.  I bet it's just as easy.}

          Moving through the darkened dojo, Felicia/Richie
headed up the stairs to Duncan's apartment.  Duncan turned
at the slow creaking of his door  opening, standing by the
sofa in sweatpants, a cup of tea at his lips, pointedly ignoring
the buzz they both felt.  Still covered in sweat from his
workout, he looked  very pissed.  Silently he set the china
on the coffee table as Felicia/Richie entered, empty handed.

          "I was wondering how long it would take for you to
          crawl back."  His angered stare bore through his former
          pupil.

     "I wouldn't call this a crawl.  I just stopped by to see how
you were doing without me."   {He's not even going for his
 sword.  Dumb ox.}

          "Better, now that I've gotten rid of all the dead weight
          in my life."

          They slowly circled, each waiting for the other to
show some sign of hostility or attack.  Teacher/student.
Adversaries.  Friends.  Neither moved.  Duncan, not wanting
to hurt his ward.  Richie, because Felicia called the shots.
Felicia broke the stalemate, drawing Richie's sword from
the hidden scabbard under his jacket.  Duncan lunged for
his katana thrown on the sofa.  Halfway to it, Felicia/Richie
sliced his arm, disabling it.  Another slice took care of his
other arm.  A final cut of his hamstrings caused Duncan to
collapse across the coffee table like a stringless puppet,
knocking the cup of tea to the floor.  Laying there, unable
to move, he watched Felicia in Richie's body move beside
him, raising the sword for the killing stroke.  {Such a pitiful
opponent.  Couldn't save himself from his student.}  Richie
screamed silently in rage, unable to voice his agony.  From
the table, Duncan begged, pleaded, cried.  {Should we give
him a reprieve for little bit and see if he's any better in
bed?  Can't be worse than you Richie, and he looks a whole
lot sturdier.  No, I guess not tonight.}  Savagely, she swung
the sword to MacLeod's unprotected neck.  It was stopped by
Duncan's katana inches from the skin.

          A younger Richie was holding it.  Dressed in green
leather jacket with a bandana over his hair, he stared
furiously at the older Richie.  "I will NEVER let you hurt
someone I care about!"  They leapt to attack, a parody of
the earlier battle.  The more devious immortal had an edge
Richie would never overtake.  Felicia/Richie soon disarmed
the other, flinging Duncan's katana across the room, and
plunged Richie's sword deep into his chest.  "Sorry, you
LOSE!" was all the ruthless doppelganger said with Felicia's
husky voice as  the sword was driven deeper.  Trying to
stop the pain, the younger pushed against his twin's chest.
 Thunder pounded in his ears, and slivers of energy chased
over his body.  Tortured breathing and the diabolical
laughing forced him deep into himself, calling up well
of unknown power.  Energy poured into his hands, erupting
into an explosion, flinging Felicia/Richie across the room
into a brick wall.  Slowly he watch his body collapse to
the floor.  Pain coursed through his hands as he staggered
to the whimpering man still on the table, babbling.  Agony
drove him to his knees beside his mentor.  Gently placing
a pain-clawed hand on Duncan head, he swore.  "I would
die for you, my friend."  Agony overwhelmed him, his senses
reeling.  Blackness closed in on him as he faded into...

          ...night which slowly lighted into dawn.  Slowly his
eyelids fluttered.  The effort to sit up brought spasms of
pain to his chest and hands.  Looking down, his open shirt
revealed streaks of red, oozing blisters, his hands raw and
bleeding.  Sweat poured from his body in the chill desert air.

          <Oh, man.  Was it a dream?  What the hell is going on?>

                    <I don't think Felicia will be bothering you any more.>

          <What do you mean?>

                    <You trounced her pretty good.  There isn't much
                    left in here.>

          <What happened to my chest and hands?  Did she do this?>

                    <I don't know.  A large flare of energy collected
                    around your hands, and then discharged into your chest.
                    I've never seen anything like it.>

           <Damn.  How far to Albuquerque?>

                    <Two, three days.>

          <Let's move it.  I don't think I want to spend any more time
          alone.>

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