Date:         Wed, 13 Dec 1995 16:46:21 +0000
Reply-To:     "N.Duncan" <nd3@UKC.AC.UK>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         "N.Duncan" <nd3@UKC.AC.UK>
Subject:      Highlander Dividing of the Ways pt 1

Disclaimer:
All characters from the Highlander TV Series are borrowed without
permission and no profit is being made from this article. Feel free
to distribute it if you want to, but please don't try and sell this
'cause: a] it's not that good & b] some people will be very unhappy
with you :-).
Glad that's over!

Well here is Highlander: Dividing of the Ways, for your enjoyment
(hopefully). It's my first post, ever, and my first
attempt at fan fiction for anyone to read but my sister. Be warned,
I have only seen season 1,last two eps of season 2, season 3 up to
the point where it switches to Paris and all other information has
been gleaned from magazines, web sites, conversations and alt.tv.highlander.
I appologise if I've missed anything and therefore made a
blunder with the plot, but if one of the terrestrial channels in the
UK would show Highlander it would be much easier on a lot of us. I
love Duncan and Amanda as characters, but I make no excuses for my
favourite Immortal being Richie, so beware. The problem I've found
is that I'm too fond of all the Immies: I don't want any of our
heros or heroines to have their heads chopped off, so here's my
solution. It's probably corney and full of spelling mistakes, but
it was fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it.
        Thanks to everyone who read this for me, especially
Sophie who removed most of my typos and some of my murder of the English
language.

        Highlander: Dividing of the Ways
                by Natasha Duncan nd3@ukc.ac.uk


**************************** Part 1  *******************************
        Wandering the streets of his home city was something
that now made Richie feel the difference in himself
because this place almost felt alien to him. Everywhere
else he could ignore the sensitivity of his hearing to the
traffic and the fact that he noticed everybody and
everything just in case the information could be useful in
the near future, but here he remembered how it had been.
This was the neighbourhood of his youth, the other side of
a divide that he could never re-cross , an innocence lost
forever and the one place on earth where he could never
belong again because it held too many memories. It wasn't
that he could ever really see himself wanting to come back
to a place that had only ever meant trouble, it was just
that it underlined how much he had changed and sometimes
that bothered him. This place brought back memories of a
time when life had been about just moving from one day to
the next, there had been no big picture and no pressure to
remember that there was always the possibility that
someone would be waiting round the next corner wanting his
head. Usually he let these cares fall to the back of his
mind, but here they floated to the surface unbidden
everytime he noticed something new that once upon a time
would never have impinged upon his consciousness. No
matter how many times he tried to tell himself that he was
better off now than he had ever been, or that by now he
should be used to his immortality the old haunts brought
it all back. It made him wonder if the Highlands of
Scotland did the same to MacLeod or whether, with time,
immortals forgot what it was like to have been prey to
natures little pit falls. He usually made it a rule to
stay away from where he may meet someone from his past so
that he could continue his new life without the hang ups
of his old one, but today he had decided that he honestly
wanted to look up an old friend.
        He had stayed away from these particular roads and
alleys before and the old place had changed a little in
that shops had moved owners and some actually looked
better than he remembered them, but most was the same. He
had already checked on the person he wanted to see and he
knew that she still worked in the homeless shelter just
down the street; that she was running it now did not come
as much of a surprise. If there was one thing that Angie
was not, it was a follower, she was one woman who was born
to lead and give her a few years and it wouldn't be a
homeless shelter she had under her control. Not of course
that Richie would ever tell his old friend any of this,
she would do much better without anyone pointing out just
what potential they saw in her, but he still wanted to
catch up on old times. The building had a fresh coat of
paint, so fresh in fact that Richie could still smell the
fumes in the air even though it appeared totally dry and
he stood there a while with his hands pushed deep into the
pockets of his brown leather jacket. It wasn't just his
physical vulnerability which had altered over time it was
his outward appearance as well, he was most definitely not
the scruffy street punk he had been. Richie Ryan was not a
picture of opulence either, but his shirt was pressed, his
boots were clean and there were no holes in his black
jeans, quite a difference from how he had been most of the
time he had been here.
        Finally, with a deep breath he reached out and took
the handle of the blue door and opened it to reveal the
sound of people talking. The light was dimmer inside where
it filtered in through the two remaining windows which
were not boarded up and the place smelled equally of
cooking food and disinfectant. A few of the residents
looked up as he walked towards the counter but otherwise
he was ignored, a common reaction in this part of the
world, it was not good to notice things that weren't your
business.
        "You from the Welfare people or something?" the burley
man behind the serving counter asked in a somewhat hostile
manner.
        "Actually I came to see Angie," the young Immortal
replied with a smile of peaceful truce, the closest that
anyone came to friendship in this neighbourhood until they
knew your family history for three generations.
        The worker eyed him suspiciously for a few seconds
more before putting down the pen he was writing with and
then shrugged noncommittally.
        "She's outback," he said finally, "you wait here and
I'll go get her."
        "Thank you," was the genuine reply.
        The individual disappeared with only one glance over
his shoulder, but it was obvious that he was in no hurry,
so Richie took the time to survey the shelter. This place
was no simple soup kitchen, it was more of a halfway house
and most of those sitting around in the almost descent
chairs were young people with the look of loss in their
eyes. Most of them appeared to have been there a while and
it conjured a picture of Ange with all the lost souls of
the world around her in the young immortal's mind which
made him smile.
        "You wanted to see me," a voice said from behind him
just after he heard the door open and the tone was nearly
as suspicious as that of the one it replaced.
        Richie turned slowly, a broad smile on his face and
took in the view of his old friend. He was not the only
one to have changed and Angie looked for all the world
like a real business woman with her own premises. Gone was
the leather jacket and the henna died hair and in their
place were a trouser suit and a neatly trimmed bob.
        "Hi, Ange," he greeted cheerfully, " how's life?"
        It took a moment for the young woman to realise who
she was seeing and then her face broke into a huge grin.
Recognition had taken some time but the two had grown up
together and even though it had been a long time, Richard
Ryan was unmistakable.
        "Richie," she said jovially, " you grew up."
        The young Immortal looked down at himself quizzically,
her comment made him glad that even if he was ageless he
wasn't going to look eighteen all his life.
        "I suppose I did," he replied with an enigmatic smile.
"You turned out quite well yourself."
        That brought a laugh from the ex-biker groupie and
before she replied, much to the surprise of those in the
room, she threw her arms around the man who to everybody
else was a complete stranger. Angie wasn't known for her
tactile exhibits of emotion, well not at work anyway and
the fact that she enfolded in an embrace someone nobody
had laid eyes on before brought a few looks.
        "It's good to see you," she said sincerely totally
unaware of the interest she was gaining , "it's been too
long."
        "That's what I thought ," he replied as the two broke
apart and just looked each other up and down for a moment.
"You're looking ravishingly businesslike today."
        Angie smiled at the compliment and put her head on one
side to read the embossing on the button of his jacket
cuff.
        "A labelled brand no less," she observed in reply, "
have we gone into bank robbery now?"
        "No," he responded quickly with laughter in his voice,
" but when one has lived in Paris one must maintain a
certain standard."
        For that she hit him, now that was a reaction the
residents were used to and most lost interest. He looked
at her with mock shock on his face and then his expression
broke into a broad grin.
        "Maybe you haven't changed that much after all," he
said buoyantly as the suspicious man returned to his
position behind the counter.
        Angie turned to the burly individual and patted him on
the arm.
        "Steve, this is Richie Ryan," she introduced warmly, "
a friend from the bad old days when I used to work in the
kitchen. Richie this is Steve, the strong arm of this
operation."
        "Nice to meet you," the young Immortal said genuinely
and at last the suspicion was gone from the others eyes.
        "Any friend of Ange," Steve  returned calmly and the
two men shook hands in a respectful if not chummy way.
        Even if Angie didn't see it, the older man recognised
an individual who could handle himself, it was one of the
reasons he had suspected trouble in the first place, but
now he was happy to leave this situation in his boss'
care.
        "Let's go to my office," the young woman said
brightly, "and then we can catch up over a cup of
something."
        "You have an office? " Richie returned cheerfully and
as she tucked her hand round his arm he noticed the
sapphire ring on her fourth finger.
        He found to his great relief that the conclusion he
drew from this was not even remotely tinged with jealousy,
as it could have been at one time, but that the knew
information filled him with ecstatic happiness for his old
friend. He kept his silence until the door closed and then
he expressed his reaction.
        "Congratulations, Mademoiselle," he said brightly and
took an offered seat, "who's the lucky man?"
        That brought a slight look of surprise to his friend's
face, she hadn't expected him to notice, and then she
glanced at the ring with a look of deep love in her eyes.
        "Well I was thinking of living my life as a nun after
you upped and left," she said sarcastically and walked
over to where th beverages waited on a stand, "but then I
changed my mind and threw myself at this rich doctor
type."
        Richie laughed, Angie wasn't the sort to throw herself
at anyone.
        "More like you threw him at your feet," he shot back
light-heartedly, "you forget, Ange, I've known you a long
time."
        She passed him a mug of steaming liquid and then drew
her chair out from behind the desk and sat down.
        "Well maybe a bit of both," she agreed contentedly and
took a sip of her drink.
        "Go on then," was the continuation from her friend, he
had never been the patient type, " give the details."
        A bright smile lit up her face at his insistence and
she paused, making him wait that little bit longer.
        "Okay," she said finally, "his name's John and at the
moment he's only a poor resident but soon he's going to be
a rich neuro-surgeon which means I will be able to buy a
car that does not have 70,00 miles on the clock."
        Richie winced at the reference, Ange obviously had a
long memory and was never going to let him forget his
short stint as a used car salesman.
        "We've been engaged for two months and the wedding's
set for June," she continued cheerfully, "and if you stick
around that long I'll add you to the guest list. We met
when I broke my finger lifting some boxes out back and had
to go to the hospital, you could say it was love at first
sight. We went on a few dates and then he invited me home
to meet his parents. You should see where they live, you
could build a multi-storey in their garden. Well much to
my surprise I hit it off with his mother straight away. I
must admit I'd been expecting the third degree, for  me a
lowly street brat having had the cheek to waylay the son
of such a wealthy family, but nothing of the kind.
Jennifer is a lovely woman who believe it or not had a
passion for motorbikes when she was a girl. "
        She grinned at him broadly.
        "My life has fallen into place," she confirmed
happily. " But how about you, my old friend, how is life
with you? I can see that you have no problem on the money
front, but what have you been up to since we last met?"
        "You wouldn't believe half of it," he told her
jovially, "and the rest is not particularly interesting.
I'm still hanging out with MacLeod some of the time and
I've been moving around. Paris is nice, Mac has a dojo
which is nice too, I took up racing for a while, now, who
knows."
        After taking a sip of her drink and looking Richie up
and down once more, Angie decided it was worth pushing
him. In the past no one ever squeezed out of this young
man any more than he wanted to give, but she was pretty
sure that this time he wanted to talk.
        "So how is MacLeod these days," she asked lightly, "
and for that matter how's Tessa?"
        A pang of grief hit Richie at that question, something
he hadn't expected and he hid it by taking a long swig of
the drink in his hand. The heated liquid burned but not as
much as being reminded of a lost friend. Tessa had died
quite some time ago, and there had been the incident with
Lisa since, but the direct question from someone who
didn't know still cut deeply.
        "Mac's fine," he responded eventually, having fought
down the emotion, "the antiques business is flourishing
and life's going great. Tessa isn't with us anymore, she
was killed by a mugger, Duncan's over it now."
        "Oh god, Richie, I'm sorry," Ange said almost
instantly,  "I really blundered in there."
        A half sad smile played across the young immortal's
lips, but it was gone in an instant.
        "Forget it ," he responded quickly,  "it's long past.
Tessa's gone and not even Mac can bring her back, the
topic was bound to come up sometime. Let's concentrate on
the living shall we."
        He raised his mug in informal salute to the past and
the future and that closed the topic of conversation.
************************* End of Part 1 ***************************
=========================================================================