Date:         Wed, 27 Jul 1994 00:36:19 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  (3/3)

< < < < < Tuesday, October 11, 1994 < < < < <

     ...filled the room.  Duncan didn't move from the chair as
Richie raised the gate, barely looking up from the chess board
between him and the shadowy figure in the other chair.

     "Well, Mac?  What couldn't wait until morning?  Or do you
enjoy getting me out of bed at three a.m.?"  Once more Richie
was brimming with anger, something Duncan was use to by now.
All the emotion clouded the redhead's senses, else he never
would have missed the third Immortal in the room.

     "Tell me about Albuquerque..." Duncan casually said,
moving his bishop.

     Richie just stared.  "What?  I don't think I've ever been
to Albuquerque.  It's someplace in New Mexico."

     "Then tell me about Felicia Martins.  The last time
you saw her."

     Richie was more confused.  "The last time... on the beach.
When you didn't take her head."

     "No, I mean the time you killed her."  Duncan finally stood,
hands on his hips, waiting, anger creeping into his voice.

     "What do you mean, killed her?  I haven't..."  Richie was on
the verge of tears at the confusing cross examination Duncan
was giving him.  He silently pleaded for the Highlander to stop,
but Duncan barged on.

     "What about when you left town after killing Mako.  What
happened then?"  Duncan moved right up to Richie's face, rage
bursting through the calm exterior.

     "I rode around...  I was in New Orleans.  I told you about that,"
Richie stuttered, the brick wall keeping him from backing up
any more.

     "How about San Francisco?  Dallas?  El Paso?  You died there.
Remember?"  Duncan yelled in his face.  The other figure finally
stood and moved into the light.  Gregor Powers.

     "How about saving me from Xavier St. Cloud?  Remember that?"
the photographer asked.

     "Greg?  I don't...  Please stop..."  Richie collapsed to the floor,
holding his face in his arms, trying to shut out their voices.  Voices.
(Trying to shut out the voices...)

     <Oh God, STOP IT!>

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

     Richie lay on Duncan's bed, exhausted by the questions he
lacked answers for.  Gregor was musing the chess board, as
Duncan, eager to relieve his frustration on anything but Richie,
chopped vegetables for a late snack.

     "I don't get it, Duncan.  Everything is fine after Denver, no,
just after he left Dallas.  Could he be hypnotized or something?
King's Knight to King's Rook four," Gregor said, moving the piece.

     Duncan chose that moment to savagely dice a cucumber.
The sudden chopping sound startled everyone.  "We can find out.
It doesn't sound like a medical condition, or even medical related.
He doesn't remember being hurt, or in an accident.  Can Immortals
have amnesia?"  He looked up as Gregor gave him a sarcastic look
and gestured at the board.  "Oh, hell.  Queen's Rook's Pawn to three."

     "So, Richie, wanna be hypnotized?"  All Gregor got in response
was a groan from the bed.  Duncan moved around his chair, taking
stock of the board and munching vegetables out of a bowl.

     "Mate in six," Duncan stated as he sat, handing the bowl to
Gregor.  Popping the last of the squash cubes in his mouth, he
leaned forward, studying the board, his elbow on his knee and
his chin in his hand.  The classic thinker pose.

     Sarcastically, Gregor adopted the same position, stroking
his goatee as he chuckled.  "I don't think so... Queen to Queen six."

     Duncan calculatingly eyed his adversary, wondering what
surgical technique Gregor would use to try and save his king.
"Pawn takes Knight," Duncan slowly drawled, elongating the
moment.  So intent were they on the game, neither noticed Richie
pulling Duncan's katana from its resting place under the bed.
Neither saw him get up and slowly move toward them.  Raise
the sword above his head.  Calmly take a deep breath.

     Duncan leaned back, smiling in victory as Gregor figured out
his mistake.  A split second later, his katana whistled through
the space his arm had been in, slamming into the board.  The
chess pieces scattered across the table and floor as the sword
was deeply wedged into the wood.  Richie started to free the
weapon as both Gregor and Duncan scattered.

     [Now guys!  I'm going to try for the mouth.  Mako, hold the fort.]

               <Roger, Phillipe.  Esmerelda, got the arm?>

          /I'm trying.  He's very strong.  I can't hold.../

               *We's keepin' him occupied, but... Hurry, Phillipe!*

     Richie stood there, trembling, as Duncan and Gregor rushed
for weapons.  Gregor unsheathed his broadsword, while Duncan
came back with a two handed claymore.  They approached cautiously,
not understanding why Richie was frozen.

     Suddenly, a French accent sprung from Richie's mouth.
"Monsieur MacLeod, you must leave.  We cannot hold him
forever, and you are the catalyst.  Hurry.  Get out while..."
The voice cut off, replaced by a wail, rising from low to high,
emanating from Richie.  He let go of the katana, and raised
his hands to his forehead.  His body violently shook, finally
falling to the floor, where the redhead twitched and moaned,
spasms sending his body into convulsions.

     Slowly, the two standing Immortals inched forward, still
on their guard and ready for anything.  In seconds Richie had
stopped thrashing, too suddenly for Duncan's taste.  Dropping
the claymore, he jumped the table and bent to examine Richie.
Pulling the hands away, he saw the purple marks on Richie's
temples.  "Greg, get over here!"

     Gregor looked at the growing bruises, and then moved across
the body, checking for pulse and breath.  He stopped and looked
at Duncan.  "He's dead.  I'd say from..."

     "...internal bleeding, possibly a concussion," Duncan finished,
having a clue about what had happened.  "Kiem Sun," was all he
elaborated.  "Damn!"

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

     [What happened?]

               <I don't know, but he's stopped struggling.  What now?>

     [I don't know, Mako.  Where's that box we were in?]

                    *Got it right here, honey!*

     [Thanks, Mamie.  Can we get him into it?]

     <Kill Duncan, Kill Duncan, Kill Duncan, Kill...>

     [On three.  One... Two... THREE!]

               <Lock it, Es!>

                    /Got it!/

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

     "Duncan?" Richie weakly said, staring up at the man
cradling him.

     "Hush, Richie.  You need to rest," Duncan softly whispered,
placing a wet rag on his friend's forehead.

     "Xavier's trying to kill you..."

     "It's all right.  Everything's going to be all right.
Just close your eyes and rest.  I'll protect you."

     "But..."

     "Hush, little baby, don't say a word..."  And for the
first time, Richie listened to Duncan's rich baritone voice,
singing him to sleep.  Singing him to...  Singing...  He remembered
in that brief second between wake and sleep, a woman.
Singing to him.  His woman.  His wife.  <Gwen...>

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

     Across the light, a woman entered, clad in white robes,
a wreath of flowers in her hair.  "I am Amanda, successor
to Rebecca, known as Guinevere.  All I am is yours, my lord,
save my heart, for my true love will always be another.
Thus harmony is disrupted and peace no longer assured.
I am strife.  I am emotion."

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

Continued tomorrow...

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