Date:         Wed, 27 Jul 1994 00:35:27 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 3 of 5  (2/3)

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

     ...leaned back.  "So you want to know about Richard.  Well,
where do I start?  I think I've already told you about how good
he was in bed.  Taught me most of what I know.  You need to work
on your technique, but I could tell you were Richard incarnate."
She ignored Richie's blush and continued.  "He was very powerful.
Had a real presence.  He could stop princes and their petty bickering
with a single glance.  Or a discreet cough.  Always mindful of other
people's pride, but never letting that stand in his way..."

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

     Richie lay there, on the sofa, and listened to Amanda for
over an hour.  Only once more did she bring up Arthur's abilities
in bed.  <When she forgets the word 'sex' she can be quite
amazing.  I can see why Duncan loves her.>

         [And was afraid to live with her.]

     <I think they make a good pair, Phillipe.  And Duncan does
deserve some lasting happiness, after what he's been through.>

         [But her kind?]

     <Any kind.>

     Richie abruptly got up, looking intently at his watch.
"Sorry to interrupt, but I really must start getting ready.
I hope we can continue this later.  Mind the store?" he asked,
taking off for the stairs.  <And he slips past the defense and
dashes for the goal line.>

         [Not very nice.]

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

     Opening the bathroom door caused a surge of steam to whirl
past Richie into Gregor's bedroom.  In the haze, he stumbled into
Amanda, blocking the door.  "By the way, Connor called while you
were in the shower.  He needs to be picked up in two hours," she
informed him, enjoying the chance to ogle his naked body.  He had
felt her presence for the last ten minutes, waiting to pounce.

     "Thanks," was all Richie could manage as he moved to slip
past her.  Left and right.  She never gave an inch.  He tried to
let go of the towel wrapped around his waist to give him an
extra hand, but knowing her...

     "I thought I might could help you, say, scrub your back.  But
someone locked the bathroom door.  Must have been accidental."
She ran her fingers over his chest, oddly reminding him of Felicia
Martins.  Any other man would have succumbed, but he grabbed her
wrist in one hand, protecting his towel with the other.

     "What would Duncan say?" he asked, searching for a defense
from this woman.

     She used her other hand to play with him through the towel.
"Duncan's never really had a say in our relationship."

     "Since when?" Richie asked.

     "Since the beginning," she replied, turning him toward the...

< < < < < A sunny day, 1635 A.D. < < < < <

     ...brick wall.  He seemed surprised it was only she.  {He really
does look so delicious when he's confused!} she thought.  The dark
haired swordsman left his post holding up the wall and approached
her, swaggering like a stud bull, taking in her more feminine garb.

     "Your friend Rebecca dinna' want to join us for a drink?" he
asked, his voice a melody to her ears.  If she wasn't careful, she
could really learn to like this man.

     {I love the way he talks.  All tongue.}  "Why, Duncan MacLeod
of the clan MacLeod.  Who said I would invite her?" she replied.
With that pronouncement, he smiled.  It was like sunshine breaking
through the fog of Britain, lighting up her soul.  {Pity.  He won't be
smiling long.  Well, I could spare a head this once...}

     They walked along the street, careful of the vendors and
children running about.  She convinced him to try a small pub
in a desolate corner of the town, and he blindly followed her
to the empty alley.  Letting him lead around a corner, she had
drawn her sword before he'd turned around.  He was confused,
and a little frightened as she made short work of this young
Immortal.  His back pressed firmly to the wall, unarmed, her
sword at his throat, he finally spoke.

     "I... I dinna' think my company was that bad...  I hope you'll..."
Fear coursed through his eyes, and some shame for being beaten
by a woman.  {And an English one at that!}

     "Shut up!" she ordered, prodding his flesh with the point of
her sword.  "And get moving," she added, glancing down the alley.
Prodding him in front of her, she directed him to a door and told
him, "Open it!"  As they climbed the stairs to the upper story,
she waited for the inevitable attempt at escape.  When they got
to the bedroom, and the Scot had tried nothing, she was even
more curious.  And very pleased.  A swift knock on the head
from her hilt, and the infuriating man fell to the bed, unconscious.

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

     By the time he awoke, everything was ready.  He found himself
tied to the four corners of the canopied bed, naked as the day he
was born.  {If he was born.  Rebecca's still puzzling that one.}
She had changed into something less restricting.  On cue, he
started struggling, cursing, and generally making a rumpus.
{And a very nice looking rumpus it is.}  She used her lips to
silence his, as both responded to the obvious heat between
them.  It was a long time before she left his lips, and longer
before she left the bed.  He was quiet in the moments following,
as she quickly dressed.  {I think I will leave him his head.  I may
need it someday.}  His goofy smiled faded as she approached,
again dressed in her street outfit.

     "It was a pleasure seeing you again, dear fellow. I hope
we have a chance to meet in the future.  Because I will let
you have yours."  A quick caress as his muscled body as he
struggled against the ropes and she strolled to the door.
Once there, she looked over her shoulder.  "I feel I should
warn you that the sheriff is usually home by sunset, and
won't take kindly to strangers in his bed."  The look of terror
is his face as he strained to see her was worth every moment
of it.  {And those that will surely come later!}  He frantically
looked to the window as she left, gently closing the door with
a smirk...

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

     ...as she caressed Richie even more.  "I saw him later, working
on the walls.  Apparently the sheriff was not amused at my little
passion play," she finished.  She glanced thoughtfully at the redhead.
"You know, we could see how well you like it..."  Her gaze of hunger
left little to his imagination.

     Abandoning the towel, Richie forcefully grabbed both her hands
with his, levelly staring her down.  From somewhere deep inside him
came words matching the feelings in his heart.  "I don't appreciate
these little games of yours.  Listen good, because this is the last
time I will say this.  I am not your old lover, Richard.  While you're
with Duncan, I am NOT an option.  Not for sex, not for flirting, not
for wet dreams.  Got it?  Feel free to ravage anyone else you want,
but keep me out of it.  If I have to take your head to stop you, I will.
Understand, wench?"  He shook her to emphasize his last words.

     For once Amanda actually looked terrified.  All she could get
out past quivering lips was "Richard?"  Her eyes saw someone
else, someone he wasn't going to become.

     "Damn right," he answered, releasing her wrists and barreling
past her to his suit hanging across the room.  From the door came
a slow, steady sound of two hands clapping.  Duncan leaned against
the door frame, a mocking grin on his face.  "And how long have you
been listening?" Richie angrily asked, trying to remember when
the extra buzz had intruded on his rage.

     "Long enough," was Duncan's calm answer.  "Darling, I think
we need to start getting ready."  Amanda shakily walked toward
him, leaving the room.  "I'll be right back," he told Richie as they
left.

     Richie called out, "Make sure her hair dryer doesn't blow the
fuses!" as he closed the door.  <Oh, damn.>

         [And what, pray tell, are you worried about?  You did
nothing wrong.]

     <I don't think it was something he wanted me to hear.>

         [Who ever said it was true?]

     <What?>

         [We are talking about Amanda...]

     <Yeah.   Right.>

     "Hey, Red," Gregor began as he entered the room, "any word
from Connor?"  His eyes were full of questions at Richie's startled
expression.  "And what was going on in here, you half naked and
Amanda in shock?  Pardon me for saying so, but you're not _that_
stunning!"

     "None of your business," Richie snapped, zipping his pants.
"Conner lands in two," he continued, buttoning his shirt.  "Can
you give Duncan directions to the airport?"

     "As you command, mighty graduate," Gregor intoned, bowing,
as he backed out of the room.  By the time an Immortal returned,
Richie was calmed and dressed.  The soft knock came as he was
straightening his tie to no avail.  "Come in, Duncan," he said, having
a pretty good guess.

     The Highlander opened the door, his face awash with emotions
Richie couldn't begin to guess at.  <He's got things on his mind,
tried to get my attention all day.  Boy, I'm stupid.>  He brought
with him a huge package, relatively flat, but as big as a tray.
His first sight was of Richie fighting with the tie.  In seconds
he had set the package down and moved to help.  His strong hands
and supple fingers had the knot undone and started again.  "You
never could tie a tie," Duncan chided.  A grin crossed his lips as
Richie feigned helplessness.  In short order, the tie was knotted
and placed to both their satisfaction.

     "Chalk one up for Richie Ryan, Immortal idiot," Richie said,
as he turned to look at it one more time in the mirror.  He watched
the reflection of Duncan's face turn serious.

     "You're not an idiot," Duncan flatly said, staring at Richie's
image in the mirror.  Richie whirled around.

     "I'm kidding, Duncan.  Jeeze, lighten up."  He poked Duncan in
the ribs as he walked over to the package and grabbed it.  "For me?"
he asked, his eyes sparkling like a kid at Christmas.  Duncan laughed
and sat on the dressing table, dangling his legs.  A nod of acquiesce
was all it took.  In two seconds flat, the wrapping was on the floor,
and Richie was holding the framed artwork, looking at it in shock.
He slowly moved to Duncan, leaned against his legs,giving Duncan a
view of the gift over his shoulder.

     In a solid oak frame was a sketch sheet.  <Look's like Tessa's
work.>  In the bottom half was a pencil drawing of Richie, in leather
jacket and a bandana on his head, every bit the thief that broke into
the antique store that fateful night.  Alive with laughter, the face
looked childish, almost innocent.  In the upper left corner, another
face of Richie,  this time in a different jacket, the Paris wind
blowing the curly hair.  The face was full of anger, and sadness,
looking less the innocent and more the spited lover.  A day after
a night he still remembered so well.

     [Why so sad?]

         <There was a woman in Paris.  She was married.  I thought
she'd leave her husband...>

     [Say no more, I understand.  I am very sorry.]

         <I'm way over it, now.  I just didn't think Tessa saw me.
Obviously she did.>

     Duncan's voice from behind him startled him from the
internal conversation.  "Tessa was going to do a third
drawing of you on our wedding day... as my best man..."
Time stopped as Richie remembered that horrible moment
many years ago, the night Tessa died.  Duncan placed his arms
around Richie as the young Immortal started to tremble.  "I
know she would have wanted you to have it anyway.  And I know
she'd be proud..."  Again, silence.  "...very proud of you.  As I am."
Duncan's voice was in his ear, for him only.  "I am very, very
proud of you."

     "Thank's, Mac," was all Richie could get out.  From behind
him, Duncan let out a breath, one held for many years.

     "You know, it's been a very long time since you called me
'Mac'," the Highlander said, squeezing gently.

     "It's easier to think of you as a stranger if I call you
'Duncan'.  It doesn't hurt as much," Richie finally admitted,
after years of wanting to say it aloud.  <But it was safer to run.>

     "I never meant to hurt you," Duncan whispered, as if they
were the only two in existence.

     "It wasn't all your fault.  It was me, too.  And us together.
Everything you said rankled.  Every time you told me to butt
out hurt.  You didn't trust me, and I didn't trust you.  I ached
for a compliment, or a kind word.  All you did was yell.  And
I couldn't do anything right in your eyes."

     "Don't you think all parents and children feel that way?"
Duncan wondered aloud, finally bringing up the subject he
had avoided for centuries.

     "Huh?" was all Richie could reply, trying to follow this
new thought.

     "What am I to you?" Duncan asked, holding Richie even tighter.

     Richie hurriedly thought, trying  to formulate an answer to
this unexpected question.  "You're the person I look up to.  Want
to be like.  My role model.  And my friend."  He waited for Duncan
to mull that answer before asking his own question.  "What am
I to you?"

     It took barely a second for Duncan to answer that.  "You
are my son.  The one who will take what I have to teach and
go forth into the world.  I know we share no blood, and you
were practically an adult when we met, but the first time I
saw you...  Really saw you.  I though of you as my child.  And
that caused all the problems."

     Richie tried to find his voice.  "Why did you never say anything
about this sooner?"

     "I always believed you would think I was crazy.  Wanting a
child so badly."

     "It's not crazy at all.  It makes perfect sense."  Richie marveled
at this revelation.  <He always though of me as his son?>

     A buzz and quiet knock broke the reverie of the two.  Gregor
stuck his head in.  "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got to go, Red.
And Duncan, your rental car will be here in about forty-five
minutes.  I've left directions to the airport and campus with
Joe."  Once again, he shut the door, leaving them their privacy
for a few minutes more.

     Richie broke away, moving toward the door.  He stopped and
turned, looking at Duncan in a new light.  "I'd like to talk more,
if you want."  His mentor sheepishly grinned at the offer.

     "As long as you want to..." was Duncan's reply.  "And no fights.
Maybe over a game of chess?"

     Richie looked shocked, remembering.  "Oh God, no chess.
No chess ever." And they both laughed.  Then Richie was gone
and soon the sound of the elevator...
=========================================================================