Date: Mon, 12 Feb 1996 02:39:10 EST Reply-To: Janine Shahinian <72557.627@COMPUSERVE.COM> Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Janine Shahinian <72557.627@COMPUSERVE.COM> Subject: Destiny - Part 1/5 This is not only my first attempt at fanfic, but the first piece of fiction I've ever written. A bunch of friends and family members have been getting after me for years to do more with my writing, but it took a certain director person to give me the extra push I needed. I am in debt to all of them as well as all the other great fanfic writers who have inspired me with their wonderful stories. After getting up the nerve to try my hand at fiction, I finally sat down and did something with the idea I had been playing with since the end of season three. Most of the work for this story was done during the late fall/ early winter of 1995. A quick note of thanks to Rachel Shelton for serving as my editor. All comments, critiques and questions are most welcome. Janine Shahinian 72557.627@compuserve.com DESTINY by Janine Shahinian (c) 1996 For Mario Azzopardi 88888888888888888888888 DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction based on the characters which appear on HIGHLANDER: THE SERIES which are the property of Rysher Entertainment and Gaumont Television and are used without permission. Permission is granted to distribute this story far and wide in its entirety, including all parts of this section as well as the Author's Notes at the end. Warning: This story contains some adult language. Introduction: This story takes place after THE COLONEL and before CHIVALRY in the fall of 1995. In other words, the Dawson-MacLeod rift is on the mend and Methos hasn't arrived in Seacouver yet. Duncan is still in the process of remodeling a house. Conventions: *Emphasis*, , [Flashbacks] and //Radio// 88888888888888888888888 "You're mine, now," announced Richie. Sure, he was being cliche, but then he always thought of fencing as rather cliche. And besides, he was actually starting to win for a change. The familiar boast, while spoken in the same, playful manner as in the past, now contained a note of pride rather than false bravado. The two white-suited figures circled each other. Richie advanced, forcing Duncan into a retreat which almost landed him on the bench by the dojo's office. Duncan parried Richie's thrust and counter-attacked with a backhanded swing towards Richie's arm. Richie ducked and lunged, scoring a final touch to Duncan's open side. "Touche! Yes!" rejoiced Richie as he removed his mask and caught his breath. Duncan calmly removed his own mask. "Not bad," he commented, placing his mask on the bench and grabbing a towel. "Not bad! That was five for two that time. I'm just getting warmed up now." "Wouldn't you rather quit while you're winning?" Duncan lifted his dark ponytail and slung the towel around his neck. "Hey, Mac," Richie pursued, "you afraid if we go a sixth time I'll even the score?" "Give it a rest, Richie, it's time for lunch." Duncan gave the young Immortal one of those end-of-discussion looks with an impish grin. "Oh, is it lunchtime already?" Richie teased. "I thought I was the one always thinking of food." Duncan tensed up, his dark brown eyes losing all their laughter. He turned his head and looked towards the studio doors. Richie, however, felt totally confused as he watched the older Immortal retrieve his katana from the bench. "Mac, what...? I don't..." "Don't you...?" Duncan began, looking back at Richie. By then the outer door to the dojo slammed shut and a woman stepped through the inner doors. Duncan quickly adjusted his expression before turning back to meet his visitor, leaving Richie feeling as though he had been hit with a bucket of ice water. Duncan casually strode forward to greet the visitor while Richie stood transfixed. A flood of thoughts fought for control as the realization began to sink in: this woman was a pre-Immortal. "I hope I'm in the right place," the woman said demurely. "I'm looking for Duncan MacLeod." Her tone was doubtful but her manner radiated confidence. This was someone whom Richie would describe as "classy." If she looked out-of-place in a martial arts studio, she sure didn't act it. She had the presence of one who could feel at home anywhere. She looked to be in her late twenties. Her light brown hair curved smoothly around the angle of her jaw and swung as playfully as the loose fabric of her designer jumpsuit. Her finely chiseled nose seemed to contrast with soft brown eyes which sparkled with anticipation as Duncan approached her. "I'm Duncan MacLeod," offered Duncan with a polite smile. "How can I help you?" <"How can I help you,"> Richie reflected. he thought wryly. ["I am Duncan MacLeod.... of the Clan MacLeod. And *you* are dead!"] A chill went down Richie's spine. Despite the obvious differences between a seventeen year old juvenile delinquent and Miss High Society, here, Richie felt as if he were looking at an earlier version of himself. If one could push back the pages of time, this is what he would be: an Immortal - who knew nothing of the Game. "Hi, I'm Victoria Macmillan," said the woman, and offered her hand. Duncan shook it and she continued. "I've just come back from Paris where I was doing some genealogical research and I met a man, named Adam Pierson, who said you might be able to help me with my project." "Oh, *did* he?" replied Duncan with a smile, as Miss Macmillan's presence began to make more sense. He shot a glance back to Richie hoping Richie would ease up as well. It had a mild effect. Richie moved close enough so he no longer seemed to be rudely staring from a distance, yet he still held back from completely joining Duncan and Victoria in their conversation. "It must be a fairly important project for you to come all this way, Miss Macmillan," continued Duncan, hoping to draw more information from her. "Oh, please call me Vicky." "OK, Vicky," Duncan replied. "Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing to the bench on the side wall." "Well, I must admit that I'm doing this for personal reasons," Vicky confessed. "It's my own family that I'm trying to trace back. I guess this friend of yours that I met at the university thought - what with you being Scottish as well - that you might know something. I knew it was a long shot, but I'm at such an impasse and he seemed so sure. "Who knows," Vicky added, "maybe when I find out what I need to know I'll write a book. I always seem to be moving from one crazy idea to the next." She shrugged, as though to acknowledge that her quest seemed a frivolous one. "Trying to learn more about your family is not crazy," countered Duncan in all seriousness. Then he brightened. "Maybe Richie and I can take you out for lunch and you can tell me more about your project." Seeing Richie still looking uncomfortable while standing off to the side, Duncan remembered, "Oh, Vicky, this is Richie Ryan." Richie graciously returned to his normal self and smiled a warm welcome. "Pleased to meet you," said Richie, shaking Vicky's hand. Vicky looked intently at Richie while returning the handshake. "Richie Ryan..." she mused, "I seem to recall hearing that name in Paris." Richie's heart skipped a beat - more like *two* beats - as he felt the blood rising in his cheeks. "You must have run into an old girlfriend," he grinned. "I only hope she had nice things to say." Duncan quickly moved to change the subject. "Ah, do you like Italian food?" "Love it," Vicky nodded. "Great! We can go to the Umberto Al-Porto Ristorante just around the corner," offered Duncan. "Would you mind getting us a table while Richie and I change?" "No, that would be fine," Vicky smiled. ********** After quick showers, Duncan stepped out of the dojo elevator as Richie descended the wooden flight of stairs. "So, Mac," Richie quickly started before he reached the bottom, "this thing you can do with those of us who haven't died yet, it's like sensing another Immortal, right?" "Basically," nodded Duncan as the two exited the dojo. "So why can't we all do it?" "I don't know," shrugged Duncan, "whether I always had the ability, or whether I got it later..." He tried to think of another explanation and gave up. "I've known so few people before they became Immortal, and you and Michelle were two of them." "So if you know they're Immortal, why don't you tell them?" Duncan stopped at the bottom of the outer steps and faced Richie. "Are you asking about *you* or Vicky?" "Both." Duncan gestured helplessly, "Richie, I don't know if becoming immortal is inevitable. Maybe if Roszca had never shot you, you could have lived a normal life and died of old age, never worrying about keeping your head from one day to the next. And *then* what good would it do - to have the life of an Immortal hanging over you all those days?" Duncan shook his head and started walking. It served no purpose to fret about what might-have-been. "Besides," Duncan emphasized, "you knew more than any of us did before becoming immortal." "Yeah," Richie teased, "I got lucky. I just happened to break into the right place at the wrong time. Or was it the *wrong* place at the *right* time?" "Something like that." Duncan gave Richie a wry grin. "So what about Vicky? Maybe this is *her* lucky day. Or are you going to play along with this genealogy business of hers?" Duncan turned to face Richie squarely. "No matter where she actually came from, the family she knows will always be her family." Richie gave a nod and Duncan returned it with a knowing look. Richie could almost hear Duncan thinking, "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." Something else occurred to Richie. "What if she finds out I died in Paris?" "Let's hope she doesn't." ********** Vicky was seated at a table by the windows which allowed her to look out at the mountains on the other side of the inlet. But her eyes stared off unseeing, deep in thought. She was back home. But she hadn't made this city her home for fourteen years. What was she really doing here? She felt she was looking for something. The fact that the trip here might be a wasted effort really didn't concern her. She always had as much fun in the seeking as in the finding; that feeling of never knowing what was around the next corner. But it seemed too much of a coincidence that she should wind up back here. Perhaps by being back in town she could.... With that thought, a smile came to Vicky's face. This drew her attention back to her reason for sitting here and she turned to face the front of the restaurant, as though that act alone would summon their presence. Then, as if on cue, she watched as Duncan and Richie emerged from the entryway. If Vicky could claim one main hobby, it was studying people and what made them tick. Here, she had the advantage of being able to observe her subjects before they spotted her. The first thing that struck her was that Richie was not at all like her first impression of him. The holding back, hesitation and blushing had made her assume that he was shy. Here, he strode into the restaurant like a champion gymnast - with the physique to match, she noted. He looked like the all-American guy with his short, sandy curls, ruddy complexion and broad shoulders. So what was a young man like that doing in Paris? MacLeod was already a mystery before she had met him. Right off the bat there was the question of why a dojo owner would be knowledgeable about Scottish history. OK, having the name "MacLeod" might have something to do with it. But she had recently been to Scotland and Duncan sure didn't sound like the folks she had met there. His accent seemed like a blend from many different places. The aura of worldly sophistication overlaid on the tall, stunning form of a martial artist made for a very lovely image, indeed. "Here you are," announced the hostess to Duncan and Richie. The two took a seat and Duncan started in with the pleasantries. "Thank you for getting the table, Vicky. I hope you didn't mind the wait." "Not at all! I was enjoying the view," answered Vicky. The small talk continued as they made their selections, ordered, and waited for the food to arrive. They talked about Paris, mostly, and jet lag and the food served on airplanes. Vicky had a great sense of humor and Richie grew ever more comfortable with her as he became less preoccupied about her possible fate. Still, he wondered how Duncan bore the burden of such knowledge. After two years as an Immortal, Richie was only now beginning to realize some of the pain which came with the territory. ["Immortality's not what it's cracked up to be."] "How far back have you managed to trace your family?" asked Duncan, getting back to the business at hand. "Well, what's frustrating," Vicky explained, "is that I haven't been able to trace my family back to Scotland. I got as far as my ancestor who first came to North America. I found a ship's record which showed that he sailed from France in 1747. I was hoping that something would turn up in France to show me where he came from, but I found nothing." "I'm not surprised," mused Duncan. "He was probably a Jacobite trying to escape from the English." His voice grew more somber. "After Culloden, the English didn't leave much behind for anyone to find." ["Has there not been enough bloodshed?" "Enough?! They've slaughtered four thousand Scots: men, women, children in their mothers' arms."] "You almost say that like you were there," observed Vicky. Richie choked on his bite of garlic bread and coughed a few times to clear the crumbs from his throat. Duncan gave him a look and sought to put the conversation back on track. "Do your parents or grandparents know anything which could help you?" Vicky hesitated. She glanced down and then back up to Duncan - the topic always made her nervous. "My parents were murdered when I was seventeen - by a bomb placed in their car," she explained. "I never knew any other family." The look she gave Duncan underscored her reasons for wanting to pursue her search. "How did you manage?" Richie asked gently. He knew all too well what it was like to be seventeen and all alone. "If you mean financially," Vicky answered ruefully, "my folks were very wealthy. The cops think that had something to do with their deaths. Our lawyer, Robert Blackwell, was found dead - shot in the head with his own gun. A check from my parents' account was taken from his office...." Vicky shook her head and her silky hair fell into her face. She pushed it back, the way she pushed back the memories. "Robert had a young associate, Paul Carson, who then took his place handling my legal and financial affairs. We both agreed it would be safer if I left town." She shrugged, "Now, wherever I go, Paul just mails me checks." She continued almost matter-of-factly. "If you mean emotionally, well, I just never looked back. I found a college on the east coast which had an early enrollment program. After I graduated, I traveled all over. This is the first I've been back in fourteen years." "So you're from around here," Richie clarified. "Yeah. Don't laugh, but when Mr. Pierson said you lived here," indicating Duncan, "it felt like karma or something." She smiled. "I guess the gods figure it's about time for me to face my past." Duncan and Richie weren't laughing. "Anyway," Vicky continued, "I finally get to visit Paul for a change instead of him traipsing around the world to see me. I thought I'd go see him after lunch." "Your lawyer makes house calls?" Duncan made it sound like a joke but something about Carson didn't add up. "Paul's also a good friend," said Vicky, wistfully. "Robert had also been my godfather. He knew my parents from their college days. When Paul started working for him, it was like he became part of our extended family. Later.... he was my legal guardian. I guess he still likes to check in on me and see how I'm doing." "Would Paul know anything about your relatives that could help you with this project?" Duncan dug deeper. Vicky nodded, "That's how I got the information I have so far. I called him from Scotland and said I wanted to track down the home of the original Macmillans. He was nice enough to compile a bunch of names from various family records and send it out to me. But I couldn't connect the guy who sailed from France with any specific Macmillans in Scotland. That's how I wound up at the university in Paris." "What was your ancestor's name?" asked Duncan. "Hugh. Hugh Macmillan." Duncan gave an inward laugh as he thought of something. ["For the sake of the men, sire, I know a tavern nearby." "Goot. Let the English know we've stopped for a pot of ale before leaving."] Richie knew that look and used his napkin to cover up a smirk. Vicky looked from one to the other. "What's so funny?" "Oh, ah... There was a Hugh Macmillan that joined a group called The Seven Men of Glenmoriston," Duncan explained. "These eight men helped Bonnie Prince Charlie for some time as he made his escape from Scotland. Historians know what became of six of them, but nothing is known about Hugh Macmillan and another fellow. I just thought, wouldn't it be something to find out that this Hugh made it to North America and was the same as your Hugh?" "Wow! Adam Pierson was right - you really *are* into history." "Oh, man, is he ever," Richie wisecracked. "Well, this is great," rejoiced Vicky. "Will you help me then?" "Sure, I'd be happy to," replied Duncan. "Why don't you come over tomorrow? You can show me what you've got on this Hugh Macmillan of yours and we'll take it from there." "Would about ten-thirty be ok?" "That would be fine," said Duncan. "Well, I guess I should be off to see Paul. Could either of you give me directions to 828 15th Avenue? I think it's near Baltimore." "The Viva Tower?" asked Duncan. Richie detected a note of alarm. "Ah, I don't know," said Vicky, sheepishly. "It's been so long. I'll never forget what that building looks like, but so much of the city has changed. The streets may still be the same, but with all the new development, I may as well be in a new city." "Uh....How about you let Richie go with you? He knows his way around all the one-way streets. That way you won't get lost," urged Duncan. Richie took the hint. "Oh, you gotta let me take you. The view from the roof, there, is the best in the city. I could point out all the sights and you'll start feeling at home in no time." Vicky wasn't so sure she wanted someone around when she went to see Paul. Richie saw her hesitation, but the salesman in him wouldn't take "no" for an answer. "Oh, and wait until you see the mountains from up there. What do you say?" Richie was all charm. Always one for new experiences, Vicky gave in. "OK, sounds like fun," she agreed. "If you don't mind, I think I'll use the ladies room before leaving." "Take your time," smiled Richie. The two men kept up appearances until she was out of sight. "So what's this with the Viva Tower?" asked Richie, suddenly serious. "It's probably nothing," Duncan hedged. "It's this lawyer she's going to see... I'm not sure he can be trusted until I find out more about him." "How are you going to do that?" "I thought I'd go to the police station and see what they have about the murder of Vicky's parents." "You think Carson had anything to do with it?" "I don't know.... her parents had money, the older lawyer is found dead, and Carson assumes control of the purse strings. It doesn't look good." "Wouldn't the cops have already thought of that?" "That's what I want to find out. In the mean time, do your best to stick close to Vicky while she's there." ********** end part 1/5 of Destiny - Janine Shahinian 72557.627@compuserve.com =========================================================================