Misc. Links

  • Highlander
  • The Episodes
  • Disclaimer
  • Immortals List
  • Mortals List
  • Hardcopy

To email the author click on the title.

HFS
We have a total of 23 episodes, and they're all available if you follow the HFS link.

 

 
 

The evening was nearing its close. Twilight shrouded the world in a misty translucency, worse for distinguishing surroundings than the inkiness that would follow shortly. Tombs melted into each other, crisp edifices blurred by the hour - and it was quiet, deathly so. The sole of his boots sounded out the only movement in the cemetery as Richie Ryan made his subdued way to his destination. The silence was a little eerie, he was absolutely alone here, but then, that's how the young man had wanted it. He'd sat on his bike and watched the last car drive away, and even then he'd waited for it's roar to die into nothing before moving from his position.

He was visiting a friend, and the things he told her, he didn't want the rest of the world to hear. He still told Tessa things that he wouldn't even tell Mac. Things from his childhood, times from the recent past, his feelings, his hopes, his dreams, his nightmares, and she listened, she'd always listened, quiet, calm, trying to understand what could sometimes reduce a grown man to tears. The only thing was now that she couldn't offer her advice, well not directly, but sometimes the young man swore she was helping him sort things out by himself.

"Hi Tess!" he breathed as he stopped in front of the gravestone.

He tried not to be sad here, to leave the grief in that first memory of waking after the shooting, and to use this place to remember the good times. Yet, somehow, there was always a glistening over his bright eyes as he smiled in greeting and laid a single bloom out of his clenched palm. Richie stayed crouched by the headstone, his hand rested on the cold surface over his offering, staring at the soft, off-white petals a moment, composing his thoughts. He knew he didn't have to vocalise them, but they made more sense to him if he did.

"I miss you," he began quietly with a sigh, "you'd have made things better between Mac and me. Oh, we're fine now, getting along again, but things have changed so much. I wish you'd been there, more for him than for me, he needs you. I know he's got Amanda, but the way they are together, that's Us, Immortals, not the way he was with you. We're all so damn.." he groped for the word, "..flighty. Forever's too long, no commitment. I 'spose that's what I really wanna talk about - I've met someone, she's like Us, Immortal, I mean. Her name's Altea. You would not believe us if you saw us, we're not what you'd call matched," the young man laughed shortly and gazed at the sky as it struck him just how unusual the relationship was for him. "I've changed a lot," he worded the thought that entered his head, "even a couple of months ago I'd have dropped Altea like a hot potato. We're both hot tempered, and maybe I should have walked away, but there's something about her. She's angry, defensive, difficult to live with, but at the same time, she's so vulnerable and she can be so tender. Most of the time I wonder if she needs me at all? She treats men like they're sub- human. Then she'll look at me and that goes away. Then she's attractive, sexy, charming, funny, wonderful to be with. I don't understand it - I think we've even surprised Mac by lasting more than a week already," he laughed again, lightly this time, the joy and mystification of his relationship with the unusual young woman all over his face.

However, his features straightened again as a familiar stirring in his being distracted him from his next sentence. Richie climbed to his full height and scanned the immediate area, now he was harassed by the hour he had selected. He couldn't see a body close by, but even as the influence on him settled his senses went into overdrive, trying to locate the source of the Immortal call. Shadows moulded into each other, turning the cemetery into the wash of greys of a drab water-colour.

The young man was alert now; this was holy ground, and instinct stopped him from reaching for his sword, but the presence of his own kind disturbing his peace annoyed him.

"Who's there?" he called, his tone disgruntledly cold.

The response was anything but coherent. Richie's eyes widened in surprise and horror as a scream as shrill as a banshee's wail assaulted his ears and a small mass of darkness came charging at him from the shadows. A blade announced itself as it reflected the little light that was left, but the young Immortal's reaction's were hampered by the nightmare that accosted him. He watched, halfway between shock and disbelief as the razor's edge arced towards him.


On to Titles On to next Part Back To Front Page