Date:         Mon, 25 Jul 1994 01:52:39 EDT
Reply-To:     Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Hobert@AOL.COM
Subject:      CIRCLES,  Part 1 of 5  (2/2)

< < < < < Tuesday, April 25, 1995 < < < < <

     ...moved to opening stances, each preparing their strategy.
Richie was momentarily sidetracked by his doubts of beating
a person four hundred years old.  <Especially when he taught me
a lot of what I know.>  A glance at MacLeod's stern face
confirmed his suspicion that the Highlander would pull
no stops this time.  <Well, I asked for it.>  Calling forth
youthful exuberance, Richie began attacking aggressively,
the loud clang of metal and bright flash of sparks signaling
the beginning of the fight.

     The late afternoon sun shone into the abandoned warehouse,
lighting the two combatants.  As Richie expected, everything
he threw at Duncan was easily countered.  He started using
variations, unplanned and unthought, but these also gave Duncan
no challenge.  Still the teacher bade his time, letting Richie
exhaust himself.

     As they continued, Richie let more and more of the anger
build up inside him, letting the emotion wash over him until
the sight of his mentor, calm and collected, shattered it
for him.  Richie stopped, letting his rapier hang at his side,
gulping oxygen.  Duncan stopped also.  It could have ended
there, had Duncan kept quiet.  "Well.  Looks like your stamina
has improved.  I didn't think you'd last even this long."

     The camel broke.

     <Damn him!  PHILLIPE!>

          [Yes?]

     <Tell everyone battle stations.  I'm gonna wipe the floor
with that bastard!>

          [Yes!]

     Richie calmly switched his sword to his left hand, and
once again settled into an opening stance.  He waited as
questions crept along Duncan's face before again attacking.
This time Duncan stood no chance against the combined skill
of three of the world's best sword fighters.  In two minutes
flat, he had been reduced to disarmed mincemeat, standing
with his back against a support column, Richie's rapier at
his throat.

     A strange look was in Duncan's eyes as he conceded.
"Finish it!" he urged.  At Richie's uncomprehending look,
he added, "Take my head!"

     "What?" was all Richie could say, standing there in shock.

     "I hold a Quickening in trust for you.  It is time to claim it.
Take it, and let me rest in peace!"  Duncan said through
clenched teeth.

     "Tell me."

     "Take it, and all your questions will be answered,"
Duncan countered.

     "TELL ME!" Richie ordered, twisting the blade.

     And Duncan told his story.  Told of his first challenge,
a redheaded man, sure and powerful.  Told how he lost, and
instead of losing his head, was offered another challenge.

     (Find me before a year's time, and we will fight again.)
     (If you have any honor!)

     He spoke of leaving Connor, and traveling, and searching.
Spoke of finding the mysterious warrior, and another fight,
this as disastrous as the first.  He again had felt metal on
his unprotected neck.

     (You have potential, and honor.  I will spare your head if
you will pledge to complete a task.)

     He voiced his agreement, his pledge to train another that
would come in the future, a future king.  He spoke of holding
the warrior's Quickening, to complete the king's training.  He
told of knowing his duty the minute he laid eyes on a young
thief in his store.  The thief had matured, the Quickening was
at hand, and the future awaited.

     (I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Britain, now known as
Richard the Lionheart. I charge you to fulfill this oath when
I am reborn again.  Swear it!)

     "Do it!" Duncan pleaded, wanting this moment to end.  Forever.

     "I'm who?" Richie asked, still not comprehending.

     "You will know when you take my head."  Duncan was
shaking now.

     "You think I would kill someone just forf a lousy
Quickening?" was all Richie could say.

     "You must!"

     Richie dropped the sword to his side, wondering how
they had ended up here.  "I don't have to do anything, Duncan.
You showed me that."  And finishing that pronouncement,
he held the rapier before him, hands on hilt and blade,
and brought it down over his knee, shattering it, and with
it any connections with Duncan MacLeod.  The pieces fell
to the floor at Duncan's feet, landing with a thud...

> > > > > Saturday, May 13, 2000 > > > > >

     ...of Tupperware on wood.  "Damn, this hurts," came
Richie's muffled voice from deep inside the refrigerator.
"I had forgotten how destructive we could be."  He picked
it up and tossed it to Duncan, who put it on the island counter
in the middle of the kitchen area.

     "You could have warned me.  That was Amanda's favorite
shirt," replied the shirtless Highlander as he opened the
bread wrapper.  He started juggling the bread slices over
the counter, finally get five in the air at once, winking as
Richie moved to the sink.

     "I thought I did, you liar," countered the equally shirtless
redhead, trying to wash the dried blood off the quickly healing
wounds on his upper body.

     "Well, well..." broke in a sultry voice from the stairs,
"what a delectable feast."  Amanda crossed to  the island
counter, and pulled a slice from Duncan's pattern.  "And
food, too.  What will liberated men think of next?"  She
quickly rolled it up, and stuffed it into Duncan's mouth
before he could add a word.  She quickly turned around to
the sink, and eyed her current prey.  "And do you need any
help, little boy?" she teased, as she slithered across the floor.

     In his best John Wayne impression, Richie warned her,
"Ya better wait a minute, little lady", as he grabbed the
water sprayer and pointed it at her.  "I don't want to use
this thing, but you're forcing me into an awkward position."

     Amanda put on her most innocent expression and raised
both her hands.  "You _know_ I never have to force _anyone_
into any kind of position, even the awkward ones, you stallion,
you."  Onward she approached, unconcerned with the threat.
"Do I, honey buns?" she asked over her shoulder.

     All Duncan did was mumble a "Hmmm hm  hhhmmm!"
through the sandwich in his mouth.  He finally stopped
juggling and began throwing sandwiches together,
deliberately ignoring the by-play.  He looked up as Richie
started hosing down Amanda, who issued a screech that
had dogs barking a mile away.  Around the counter she ran,
until she could use Duncan as a shield.  Richie stopped for
a moment, sighing in mock resignation, and once more shot
water with a passion, this time straight at the Highlander,
soaking him too.  The couple quickly abandoned the island
and split up, each approaching Richie from a different direction.
Switching from one to the other, Richie tried to keep them
at bay, until Duncan grabbed him from behind and Amanda
claimed the water sprayer.  Smiling wickedly, she hosed
down the graduate, struggling in Duncan's grasp.  Ever so
carefully, she managed to include Duncan in the spray, until
both men dived for cover.  A noise from the stair area spun
her around, water still spraying madly.

     With saintly patience, Joe Dawson stood in the water
shower until Amanda remembered to stop squeezing.  He
calmly viewed the room and combatants as water dripped
from his soggy hair to the wood floor.  From the floor, buried
under Duncan came a male voice.  "Joe... You're up.  That's good.
Look who's here."

     As the two men picked themselves off the floor, Dawson
turned to Amanda, who just smiled and smugly held the sprayer
at ready in the air, like a pistol expert with a derringer, daring
the Watcher to comment.  He instead shook his head, the
perfect picture of a disappointed father catching his children
doing something they shouldn't.  He slowly turned back to the
stairs, ambling to Richie's room, chuckling softly.  Amanda
looked miffed and gave a huff before releasing the sprayer.
As she stormed out of the kitchen, the hose slowly undulated
back to the sink.

     Richie picked himself up and  took one look at the floor,
moaning about the mess as he left the kitchen, heading for
his commandeered room.  Behind him, Duncan tried softly
to call him back, not to lose the moment, but Richie either
didn't hear or ignored it.  "After last time, who could blame
you?" Duncan muttered under his breath.  Once again he was
left standing, alone, as his friend walked away...

< < < < < Tuesday, April 25, 1995 < < < < <

     ...from the kitchen counter in Duncan's apartment.  Richie
reached the black chair and whirled around again, facing the
Highlander at the sink.

     "So was everything a lie, Mac?  Were you just waiting for
the day I got good enough to take your head?" Richie asked the
man he thought he knew.  "Or maybe you were trying to save me
from becoming an Immortal so you wouldn't have to keep your
promise.  Was that where all the concern came from?"

     "In the beginning, yes..." began Duncan, washing the vegetables,
still not able to look up.

     "Damn you!" Richie exclaimed, folding his arms and again
pacing the room.  Outside, night had finally fallen, leaving the
windows dark and boding.  The only light was in the kitchen,
cold and harsh, giving no warmth, like the men it lit.

     "Let me finish," Duncan almost yelled.  "I was trying to
protect you.  I was trying to protect my life.  I didn't want to
hand my head to a sorry pain in the ass like you.  And then
Tessa was killed, you became Immortal, everything fell apart,
and the only thing I had left to keep me going was my duty
to you.  It did.  And today, you were to take my head, and end
this farce I'm living."

     "Farce?  The farce was all of you thinking I would want to
go through with this.  Kill my best friend for a lousy Quickening?
Did you think I would do that?"  Richie angrily stormed to the
kitchen counter, standing to face Duncan.  "You taught me better
than that."

     "I also taught you to honor your word when you gave it.
What kind of role model would I have been if I didn't follow
my own rules?" Duncan angrily spat, throwing the zucchini
in the sink of running water.

     "And you've never broken your word, Duncan? Not in
four hundred years?"

     That stopped Duncan cold.  In a very low, threatening voice,
he answered.  "Not when I had any another choice."

     Richie resumed pacing, trying desperately to understand
what was going on.  A stray thought hit him.  "Did you think
I'd want to rule the world?  Is that it?"

     Duncan silently stared, glaring as if his word was the only
thing stopping him from gutting and beheading Richie.  "If I thought
that, we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation."

     Richie froze, not believing Duncan could be so callous.  All the
paths he saw led to one place.  All the voices in his head counseled
one action.  It was the only choice he had.  "I don't think we should
be having it anyway.  I'm leaving," he said suddenly.  "For good.
I don't want what you're pushing, and I don't want to be around
while you sort out your life.  Goodbye, Duncan."  He turned and
walked to the elevator, stopping to get his jacket.  Nothing else
was his.  He never looked back, never saw Duncan at the sink,
water still running.  Looking so alone.  Standing there while
the noise of the elevator permeated the room.  Standing there
as the sound died, and the faint steps below died, and the
outside door slammed shut.

Epilogue - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

     A circle of light shines on the ground, surrounded by dark
blackness.  Into the light steps a young man, his head crowned
in fire and gold, carrying the most beautiful sword ever seen.
Calmly he stands, hands grasping the hilt, blade pointed at the
earth.  There he waits, as he has waited before, in many times,
places and bodies.  Waits for those he will call.  <This is the
last time,> he thinks, standing patiently.  "I am Richard Ryan.
Come to me, my friends.  Our work is beginning one last time."

     Into the light, at Richie's right, steps a proud man, full of
strength and power.  The muscled body moves gracefully, the
dance of an accomplished warrior.  His long, dark hair flows
in rivers down his back, his eyes aflame with his duty.
"I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod, chosen by Arthur
Pendragon, called Richard the Lionhearted.  I am mentor and
advisor,  teacher and master.  I am strength."


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Continued tomorrow...

Comments, as always, to
hobert@aol.com
=========================================================================