Highlander A Different Point of View

A Different Point of View

_Disclaimer: Highlander does not belong to me. Please do not sue._

_Spoilers: This is Richie's point of view of the first Highlander episode._

The wind tugged relentlessly at my jacket as I casually walked down the street. It was the first real cold snap of the year and I knew that I needed a big score and soon. I'd have to find a decent place to stay for the season. I could always go to a runaway shelter, but they'd probably send me back to my latest foster family. Hell, the streets were better than that place.

"Hey Richie," called a familiar voice. I spun around to see Angie running up behind me. I smiled at the light in her eyes and knew she must have great news.

"What's up, Ange," I asked as she caught up to me.

"Remember that psychology paper you helped me with," she excitedly asked. I slowly nodded; I had been part of her research. Normally I wouldn't have opened the door to that kind of pain, but Ange was my best friend. "Well," she continued, "the teacher was so impressed that he sent it to a college buddy of his." I went a little weak and swallowed convulsively. She had promised that my part wouldn't go beyond her teacher. She continued on, oblivious to my feelings; "He read it and told my teacher that the school would give me a full ride if I majored in psychology. Isn't that great? Richie? Richie?"

I managed to pull a smile from somewhere, "Yeah, Ange. That's great." Really, it was great news for her. She'd never be able to afford the school without a scholarship; and a full ride was more than she could've hoped for. She was staring at me; probably trying to decide if I was really okay. I gave her my best devil-may-care grin and she gave me a quick kiss; then walked toward the mission where she worked. I shook my head, trying not to think about the foster families in Ange's paper. My nightmares from those times had died down in the past few months, but thinking about them only caused panic attacks.

Firmly putting those negative thoughts out of my head, I turned a random corner and walked down that street. I casually glanced at the shops I passed and found myself staring at an antique store. The shop was relatively small, but from what I could tell the stock was all quality stuff. I wondered if I could fence something that highbrow. Maybe Donnie could unload the take for me; he was a decent fence. He knew the people who bought this kind of junk. Yeah, I'd talk to him after the job. If I was lucky it would be a simple heist.

The day was fading fast and I needed some food. I stopped at MacDonald's and used my last few dollars to get a Big Mac and fries. By the time I finished my meal, I had my plan of action all worked out. I swung my duffel onto my shoulders as I tossed my trash into the garbage. The green duffel would probably hold everything I was going to swipe tonight.

Long shadows made me realize just how late it was getting and full night had fallen by the time I reached the antique store. I grimly smiled as I worked the window silently open. "Still got it, Richie my man," I thought contentedly. I hadn't been hitting houses lately; the cops had been keeping an eye on me. Picking pockets and shoplifting small things was easier on my growing record. I would be considered an adult soon, and I really didn't need to get caught in something too big.

I slipped into the main display room and started grabbing anything that looked in good shape and old. After picking up everything I thought I could safely carry, I looked longingly at the swords. It was too tempting and I just had to pick one up. I swung it around, pretending I was facing an evil knight. I was so absorbed that I didn't hear the guy behind me until it was too late. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, and you are dead," the guy said as he moved toward me.

Oh shit! I thought the place was empty, but obviously not. A sword, a gun made sense, but who used swords nowadays? God, was he really going to kill me for breaking into his store? I started talking, but the big guy didn't seem real impressed. The lady behind him seemed to be on my side, but before I could escape the skylight shattered and some huge dude in a hockey mask landed on the floor. What did I get myself into here? The new guy had a sword too. Man, this was too weird! The MacLeod guy and the Jason rip-off were exchanging words while I tried to quietly sneak to the back window. Right when I thought the two were going to come to blows, another guy with a sword waltzed in and that was last straw. I knew when to cut my losses and this was definitely one of those times. I made a dash for the back window and thankfully no one chased me.

I ran down the alley and thought for one glorious moment that I was going to get away scot-free. But my rotten luck proved true, and a cop car pulled up at the end of the alley. I was trapped and gave up on any ideas of escape. I was hauled down to the station and wound up in a cell for the night. I guess the jewelry in my pocket hadn't helped my case. I tried to tell them what had gone down, but they didn't believe me. I couldn't blame them; I mean, it all seemed a little unreal to me too. Why couldn't this all be some weird dream? Nothing tonight really made sense; swords, fighting, and people arguing over who was going to fight who. I shook my head in frustration; I just wanted to forget everything.

Restlessly, I glanced around my cell. Man, I hated jail. Not like this was a first for me, but every time it was a little worse and a bit more frightening. Pretty soon I wouldn't be charged as a juvenile; my eighteenth birthday was way too close. Juvie was awful, but I knew the state pen was way worse. I'd be eaten alive in there. Man, there just had to be some way out of this. I paced the cell, until the length started to make me queasy. My touch of claustrophobia usually didn't bother me too much, but being locked up with no way out drove me nuts. I finally sat in the far corner of the cell and tried not to think of what could happen to me. I guess it worked, because the next thing I knew it was morning.

The guy from the antique shop was coming in, but I had gotten my stuff back. It looked like I was actually going to catch a break on this one. I lounged in the chair and put my feet up on the table. Good ol' Sarge waltzed in, bringing the MacLeod guy with him. After making a few idle threats, Sarge left me alone with MacLeod. I gotta admit, the guy was an expert intimidator. He got right in my face and told me calmly and rationally what he would do to me. Whoa, I struggled for a grip on my rapidly increasing panic. "Get a grip," I told myself; "He's not going to do anything in a police station. Just breathe." Still, it was very unnerving to have someone so close and threatening me. I swore up and down that I wouldn't breathe a word of the sword thing to anyone and I was released.

However, there was just something about this guy that drew my curiosity and I found myself heading back to his shop to see what was going down. He and the French guy were getting into a very nice car. They drove off, but I managed to find them again in the old warehouse district. The warehouse they were practicing in had been abandoned for years and sometimes used as shelter for some of the street people. Hell, I'd even slept there a couple times. I couldn't hang around now, but I decided to come back sometime tomorrow. Right now, I needed to find some food and maybe stake out a place to crash tonight. I was reduced to sweeping through the park and doing fast grabs. I hit the hot dog stand and the pretzel vender; they both felt sorry for me and let me have some free food. I slept in an alley, when I slept at all. My over-active imagination was supplying some great nightmares, so I was mostly awake all night.

The next morning, I decided to see if the sword guys were at the warehouse again. I found myself mesmerized by the graceful duel that was happening before my eyes. The clashing of steel made me jump; those swords were real. Who were these guys? Dueling with real sword could get one of them killed. They were going all out and it seemed like one of them should be bleeding or something. Their practice came to an end and laughing, they both toweled off. I couldn't believe my eyes, both of them seemed to be fine. It was amazing that neither was seriously hurt. How could they do that?

I tried to put them out of my head; really I did. Something inside me just wouldn't leave well enough alone; I had to know more. So I decided to sneak back to the antique shop and see what was going on there. I peered through the window and saw them having an argument that came to blows. I watched as the shorthaired knight started for the door. Before I could change my mind, I slipped into the trunk of his car and we sped off. When the car stopped, and I was certain he'd left, I slipped out and found a place to watch the show. He was facing the Jason look-a-like and he obviously had the upper hand. It looked like a short fight, but then the huge guy shot the knight and he went tumbling over the rails into the water. My God! I'd just seen someone murdered. I pushed farther back into the shadows, hoping Ugly wouldn't see me. I knew enough that being a witness would get me killed. He was starting to look around and I froze, sure he would see me.

However, it wasn't me he was after. The other guy, MacLeod, had run into view, brandishing his sword. And suddenly I was watching another fight taking place. Man, these psychos were really serious. The fight didn't last very long and MacLeod cut off the other guy's head. All of a sudden, this weird lightening came out of nowhere and zapped MacLeod. Man, who were these guys? My heart froze as MacLeod turned and stared right at me. I hastily backed up and tried belatedly to get away. He watched me for a minute, then turned and jumped into the river.

I crept back to solid ground and told myself to go and find some nice warm place to crash and forget all about what happened tonight. Somehow I couldn't take my own perfectly sound advice and found myself following the river to see if the MacLeod guy had managed to get to shore. I must have a death wish, I couldn't believe I was looking for murderers. Voices nearby caught my attention and I crept to the edge of the grass. I could just make out their features and watched as the French guy, who should be dead from the fall alone, sat up and said something to the other guy. His eyes strayed to me and I froze in abject terror. What were they saying? Visions of me being permanently silenced danced through my head. I beat a hasty retreat, as the pair seemed ready to leave.

I found myself curling up in the abandoned warehouse the duo had been practicing in this morning. At least it was drier than outside and blocked the wind, marginally. Sleep eluded me all night; I was too tightly strung to relax. I just could not get the fighting and the miraculous recovery out of my head. The sun rose a few hours later and I crept outside to find a place to lie low for awhile. Nothing like seeing a man get killed to make a guy a bit edgy. Hiding from the world seemed like a good idea, so I headed to the area I generally called home. Getting lost in the crowd of unwashed, unknown, and best of all, unseen bodies; I searched for a likely hideout. Finally I decided on an empty basement apartment in a condemned building. Not the safest place, I know, but who would look for me there?

Several days passed and my hideout seemed secure. I had only left a few times for food and necessities. But my luck ran out on the third day, word on the street was that some guy with a ponytail was looking for me. The guy was persistent and I was freaked. I grabbed my stuff and headed for the street, maybe it was time to get out of Dodge. Before I got three feet, the guy spotted me. Someone must have ratted me out. I ran as fast as I could, but he easily caught me. I sagged in his grip; I just didn't have the stamina or the strength to put up much of a fight. My eating habits hadn't been too great lately, cash and food had been scarce and I was feeling it now. I was trying to play it cool, but I knew my shakes weren't from the cold. God, I had never been so scared of anything.

I was trying to think of something to say, when something in his eyes softened. "It's okay," he gently said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk to you." He seemed sincere, so I relaxed a little. He loosened his grip, but didn't let go completely. "You've seen to much," he said. Oh my God, he was going to kill me. I struggled wildly for a moment, before I realized he was still talking. "No, no," he apologized, "That's not what I meant. You could be in trouble, not from me, but from others. Look, I want you to come work for me. I can keep an eye on you and you can find out more about me."

I considered his proposition for a minute; it sounded good. I did want to know how he and the French guy survived the fall and river. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," he replied, "Not much money either, I'm afraid. I will make up wages by letting you have room and board in the spare bedroom, plus meals, if you're on time. What do you say?"

What did I say; it was too good to be true? "Why me? I'm a nothing."

He looked at me with very sad eyes and answered, "You're not a nothing. I think you have great potential." I was really confused, but my options were already limited. I had to agree, so I held out my hand. We shook on it and then he led me to his T-Bird and the start of a whole new experience.


End file.

Highlander, Drama