========================================================================= Date: Mon, 8 Apr 1996 15:02:00 -0400 Reply-To: Sandra1012@AOL.COM Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Sandra McDonald Subject: When Immortals Gather 2/2 (Finally!) MacLeod spent the rest of the afternoon winding his way through the dealer's room, listening to interesting debates, reading fanzines in the lounge, and catching up with other Immortal friends. He got along with mostly everyone, usually - it was the writers who divided people into good and evil, pitting them against each other, when most Immortals were content to just sit around the bar and talk about old times (literally). He shared a few beers with Grayson and Kuyler before going upstairs to shower and change before the Masquerade. The costumes and hard work evident through the show impressed him deeply, although Connor criticized some of the kilts. Neither one of them had seen Richie during the show, and he failed to appear while they were waiting in the lobby. Connor suggested that Richie might have made different plans after his lunch date. But Gregor, going out the door with a group on their way to an Immortal's hockey game, said that Richie had planned to be there. "I don't like it," MacLeod said, and used the house phone to call Richie's room. No answer came back. "How could he get into trouble at a convention?" Amanda asked. "Never mind, it's Richie. We'll go ahead and get the tables at the restaurant, you men catch up when you can." MacLeod frowned. Connor, trying to be helpful, asked, "Well, are any of Richie's enemies here?" "I saw Mako at the art auction," Methos offered. "He and Felicia Martins were looking pretty chummy." "What about Laura Daniels?" MacLeod asked. "Oh, I met her," Connor said. "Nice young woman. She and Ceirdwynn and Elena went off to a woman's lecture on 'Trying to Survive as a Female Character in Highlander Fiction.' Either that, or a meeting of the National Organization of Women." They went upstairs to try Richie's room. The door was open a fraction of an inch, and once inside they found signs of a struggle. Methos called convention security. Three women wearing armbands showed up within sixty seconds, and identified themselves as Monica, Angela and Jennifer. "We'll find your friend," Monica vowed. "And I'll WHAP whoever's responsible!" Angela said firmly. In an amazing plot twist of coincidence, the phone chose that very moment to ring. "If you want to see your young friend again, with his head on, you better get to the twentieth floor," a voice warned Duncan. "We'll take care of it," Jennifer said when MacLeod relayed the threat. She reached for her radio. "I'll call in the Richie Reserves." "No," Connor said, laying a hand on her shoulder and offering a brief, sardonic smile. "We can take care of our own." "You're welcome to come along and watch," Methos said helpfully. The twentieth floor was being renovated, and proved to be maze of paint cloths, ladders, torn down ceilings, and demolished walls. At the end of the hall, in a room where torn plastic flapped wildly against empty windows, they found an Immortal and his sword poised over the helpless Richie, who sat tied and gagged in a chair, clad only in his blue bikini underwear. Richie was furious, and began yelling inarticulately past his gag when he saw his rescue party. "He looks mad," Monica observed. "But very cute," Angela sighed. MacLeod's gaze narrowed as he recognized Richie's captor. "Kilroy! I was wondering where you were." Kilroy raised his sword and offered a cold smile. "I was here," he said, "all the time." Methos frowned. "Aren't you the title of an album by Queen?" "By Styx, you dummy," Connor said. "You try keeping track of five thousand years of music trivia," Methos snapped. MacLeod shook his head. "Kilroy, this ends here and now. Richie has nothing to do with it." "But he makes a very attractive bait," Kilroy offered. "I'll say," Angela agreed, and Jennifer poked her. "You can't take a Quickening here, Kilroy," MacLeod said. "It's Holy Ground, remember?" "Holy Ground! Ha!" Kilroy snorted. He pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "I can't believe you guys actually buy the idea something bad happens if you kill on Holy Ground. Duh . . .. remember? We just agreed it would be a nice thing to abide by. TPTB have even killed on Holy Ground, and nothing happened - or doesn't anyone here remember the Knights Templar?" Methos wagged a stern finger at the evil Immortal. "You better not let that get out, Kilroy. The writers are having too much fun with the possibilities." Connor put his hands around his throat. "It's how I got my head back, thank you very much." Richie's face was turning red now as he tried to make them understand something past the pair of tartan socks that had been shoved into his mouth. In exasperation, Kilroy freed the gag. "You let me loose and we'll see who needs protection!" Richie yelled. Then he shook his head. "Sorry, wrong scene. Look, I want to talk to the Duty Fanfic Writers right this minute. Number one, I thought we cleared up this bait thing after Kristov - I'm pretty sick of it, you know? And number two, I'm gratuitously nearly naked, and I'm not enjoying this at all!" MacLeod's gaze fell to Richie's groin. "One part of you is enjoying this." "I mean it!" Richie yelled. "Call the writers!" Angela found a phone which the construction workers had conveniently forgotten to unplug. She dialed the duty room and spoke a few quiet words. A few minutes later, during which no one did anything to untie Richie, three duty writers came off the elevator toting laptops and episode guides. "Duty Fanfic Writers, on call and at your service," one said. "We charge a flat fee for hurt/comfort, a larger fee for epic angst, and if you want Mary Sue we're going to have to call in back-ups." "What's Mary Sue?" Connor asked. Before any of the writers could answer, a powerful stench filled the room. "What's that?" MacLeod demanded. One of the other writers shook her head. "The smell of a dead horse." "I'm Janine, this is Lisa, and that's Janette," another announced. "What's the problem here?" "The problem," Richie seethed, "is that I just want to enjoy the convention, like everyone else, but no! I have to fall victim - again! - to someone psycho Immortal - again! - who wants to use me as bait to trap Mac - again!" He punctuated his aggravation by tugging at the sturdy ropes holding him to the chair. The ladies all tried not to notice the glimmer of sweat marking his smooth skin and dampening the sweet curls of his hair. "I'm sorry," Lisa said, "but we don't have the authority to change fanfics in progress." "Then I want to talk to the author of this story, right now!" he yelled. "Where's Sandra?" Janine asked. "I think she's down in the lounge with Melody and Kim, listening to the bagpipe demonstration," Angela answered. Janette called the lounge, asked for Sandra, and then held the phone to Richie's ear and mouth. Her other hand rested on his firm back, his warm skin, his sleek muscles - Richie stated his problem, then listened for awhile. "Okay," he finally said. "What's going to happen?" Methos asked. "Because you know, I could use another beer right about now." Richie smiled. "I think everything's going to be taken care - " THIS STORY IS HEREBY INTERRUPTED BY THE AUTHOR Hi everyone! Richie asked me to change the story. So here goes - When Immortals Gather 2/2 (Revised) The twentieth floor was being renovated, and proved to be maze of paint cloths, ladders, torn down ceilings, and demolished walls. Torn plastic flapped wildly against empty windows, giving way to a stunning view of the city. The moment the rescue party stepped off the elevator, they heard a cry of pain or fear. Then the roar and lightning of a Quickening shook the floor, dumped plaster from the ceilings, sent cables spinning free, and created general mayhem. "Richie," MacLeod breathed, fear for his young friend reflected in his eyes. "Maybe not. You were wrong the last time," Connor reminded him. "Give the kid some credit." "Yeah, Mac, relax," Richie said, appearing down the hall. He seemed shaken but whole, and wiped the edge of his rapier against his twill slacks. "I have the situation taken care of." "Richie, you can't take a Quickening on Holy Ground!" MacLeod said, scrutinizing him for side effects. "Mac, it's cool. The arch-diocese of Baltimore missed this floor." "Then everything's worked out fine, apparently," Methos said, with a look towards the Security women. "Which is good, because I'm starved. Would you all care to join us?" "Sorry," Monica said, "but we're not supposed to mingle with the characters." Angela pouted, "But we can break the rules this once, can't we?" After much debate they decided they could break the rules, as long as they called the Duty Fanfic Writers to revise them later. They left to turn over their radios, and the Immortals waited for the elevator to return. "I didn't want to break their hearts - " Richie started. "Talk about the self-absorbed," Methos said. " - but I have a date to keep. Give my regards to everyone," Richie finished. "A date with who?" MacLeod asked. "A Navy lieutenant on her way to Connecticut who's only here today and tonight . . ." Richie said. A smile spread across his face. "We're going to talk about fan fiction. She's got some upcoming stories where I win - oh, never mind. I wouldn't want to spoil it for you." "Come on, tough guy," Connor said to Richie, pulling him towards the stairs. "We need to clear the stage for these two." "Why?" Richie complained. "Some hurt/comfort? A touching scene of male bonding? What's going on? How come I don't get to know everything around here . . ." "Why are they going?" Methos asked. "So I can do this," Duncan said, picking up a conveniently forgotten brush and dabbing Methos' nose with a splotch of white paint. Methos demanded, "Why did you do that?" "Because everyone likes that scene in 'Chivalry.' It was voted Cutest Moment of Season Four in the reader's poll." Methos wiped the paint off with the back of his sleeve. "I think it's cute, too," MacLeod said, suddenly shy. A gleam lit up Methos' eyes. He hadn't gotten to be 5,000 years old without being able to pick up a few non-verbal clues. "Well, then, could I persuade you to skip dinner?" "And do what?" Methos took him arm and arm and steered him towards the waiting elevator. "There's a recently posted story about you and me and your sofa and the power of a Quickening that I want you to read . . . " THE END Author's notes: So hopefully you enjoyed it . . .I did! Any resemblance to real or fictional characters is completely intended and meant just for fun. No offense meant to ANYONE. Debbie kindly identified the problem for me - it was because I was being too clever, trying to insert a fake header halfway through the second part to make it look like another message from the list. People who own the original part 2 (sent through e-mail) can see what part I'm talking about. Anyway, that's all for now . . . P.S. There really is a MediaWestCon program this year called "Who Wants to Date Forever . . . " I signed up for it! And oh yes, because dreams DO come true - EPILOGUE San Francisco, 1880 Rebecca hoisted her skirts above the mud of the street as she crossed from carriage to sidewalk. The street swirled with the bustle of vendors, housewives, newspaper boys, businessmen in tall hats, horses and chickens and even a few weasels. She'd come to meet up with Duncan MacLeod, but he hadn't been at his room. Instead she went to visit another old Immortal friend, and as she crossed into the hotel she felt Guinan's buzz. The woman was sitting with a tall,sturdy man of dark hair, dark mustache, and lively blue eyes. "Rebecca!" Guinan said, rising, and the women embraced. "You must meet Commander William T. Riker." "Madam," Riker said, rising to kiss her hand. "A commander?" Rebecca asked. "Are you in the navy, sir?" "Not this navy," Riker remarked. "He's a quite extraordinary traveler," Guinan said. "Come to retrieve a friend's head, so to speak." Rebecca lifted her eyebrows. "How interesting." She gave Guinan a questioning look. Guinan shook her head ever so slightly. No one had told this Commander William T. Riker that he gave off the faint, persistent glimmer of an Immortal yet to come. And later, when they lay in bed together, Riker stroked Rebecca's hair and told her of a ship called the Enterprise . . . . Author's Note 2: Okay, so this doesn't actually match Trek canon either, but Rebecca insisted, and who can resist Richie's mom? :-)