The Pledge Drive From…
The Second Holy Ground Highlander
Forum Midweek Challenge
Archivist’s Note: The stories and vignettes
offered here from various Rysher Forumlanders have not been edited or changed
other than having a spell-check performed and being reformatted for this
website.
It's WEDNESDAY...and that means it's time for The Midweek Challenge!
Posted
by Leah CWPack on Wednesday, 12 April 2000, at 9:15 a.m.
For those of you who care to participate, here
is your exercise this time around:
Duncan MacLeod, a staunch supporter of the arts,
decides to volunteer himself for the latest PBS Seacouver station pledge drive.
Not only does he volunteer to man the telephones and take pledges, but he
'generously' volunteers several of his friends (and perhaps enemies) for the
same 3 hour, on-air duty.
Write a short scene of the event, or some aspect
of the event that ensues. Beyond Duncan, anyone can participate in the scene.
Anyone.
Good luck!
Answer to Leah's Midweek Challenge
Posted by
Viking Lass CWPack on Wednesday, 12 April 2000, at 2:35 p.m.
*******During hour two of the PBS Seacouver
pledge drive*******
"Duncan, can you do the next live camera
shot in about ten minutes?" Becky, the red haired, station manager asked.
"Dunna, see why not?" His dark eyes
sparkling.
"Oh and can you use your Scottish
accent?" She asked sweetly.
"Dunna, see why not?" He said again
this time with a small laugh.
"Great!" Becky replied
enthusiastically.
Duncan then turned to the telephone section of
the studio and observed the three other Immortals he had dragged here. Methos
had been reluctant to come saying he enjoyed the works of the cable stations to
the public television station. Sitting next to him was Cassandra who had hotly
refused to come but Duncan had promised her dinner afterwards and she had then
warmed to the idea. The Immortal next to Cassandra had been brought here by
Magic. Duncan felt that Kronos would do well at a pledge drive. So he had
Cassandra work her Magic and bring Kronos up from Hell for the three hour
event. It did Duncan's heart a world of good to see the three ancient Immortals
involved in a worthy cause. Secretly he felt that all three of them needed to
do a good deed for society. And heck answering phones for a public television
pledge drive seemed like an easy way for them to 'give back' to the public.
Duncan decided to listen in on each of their
conversations to make sure they were following the rules of the station. He
approached Cassandra first.
"You'd like to make a fifty dollar pledge,
that will get you the t-shirt and the coffee mug," Cassandra said in her
normal voice.
"But you really want to make the hundred
and fifty dollar pledge," she said using her Magical Voice.
"Yes you do."
"And you'll receive the canvas tote bag and
the umbrella. Let me just get your method of payment and we're all set,"
Cassandra replied in her normal voice.
Duncan was shocked that Cassandra was using her
Magic on unsuspecting supporters of the arts. After her caller had hung up he
bent down to Cassandra and whispered angrily, into her ear, "*How* many
people have you been doing that with?"
She smiled up at him and said innocently,
"Just all of them."
Duncan smacked his hand to his head in
exasperation. He shook his head in disbelief and moved on to Kronos.
"You don't want to make a seventy five
dollar pledge you want to make the hundred and twenty five dollar pledge."
He practically shouted into the phone.
"Why - you ask me?"
"Because if you don't I'll come to your
house and kill you if you don't." He said sweetly into the mouthpiece.
"Wonderful, a hundred and twenty five
dollar pledge it is. And you'll get the wind chime and key chain with that
pledge. Have a pleasant day, ma'am."
Kronos smiled angelically up at Duncan and
asked, "Is there a problem, MacLeod?"
Duncan had to keep his frustration in check
because Kronos was already dead and he couldn't kill him again.
He sighed deeply and said between clenched
teeth, "Yes! There is. Have you been intimidating all the callers?"
Kronos looked sheepish,
"Well…maybe…yes."
Duncan looked at him gravely.
Kronos was quick to defend himself,
"Highlander, I follow a strict cut throat policy. If the caller doesn't
pledge what I want them to, I threaten to cut their throats." He ended his
explanation with a smile.
Duncan again smacked his hand to his forehead in
exasperation. Woe was him. Dejectedly he moved past Kronos and Cassandra to
Methos.
"Really sir, that's wonderful," Methos
said politely into the mouth piece.
"Sir, are you going to pledge some
money?" He asked his caller.
"Wow, he can do tricks for a
meaty-bone," Methos hardly masked his sarcasm.
When Methos felt MacLeod tap him on the shoulder
he turned around. MacLeod shrugged his shoulders as in a "what
gives?" sort of motion. Methos placed his hand over the receiver and said
with a touch of aggravation, "Mac, I have been on the phone with this man
for over a half an hour. He's told me about his dog, who he thinks should be
the stage double for Wishbone. Never mind that his dog is a poodle and Wishbone
is a Jack Russell terrier. And the rules say I can't hang up on this man, I
have to try to get a pledge."
Methos bent his head back down to talk to the
caller.
"Really sir, I think you have a fine dog,
but I don't have any clout with the Wishbone show."
"Sir, can you make a pledge…please?"
Methos groaned into the phone.
Duncan clapped Methos on the back in support and
empathy. Then he heard Becky hailing him.
"Duncan, you'll do the next live camera
appeal to the home audiences."
"Sure," and he got prepped to go but
not without giving a worried glance to the three ancient Immortals.
*****At the end of the pledge drive *******
Excitedly Becky made her way to Duncan, who was standing by the water cooler.
"Duncan, I have to thank you for having
your friends come. Two of your friends did great, Cassandra and Melvin Koren
had some of the highest pledge drives. But your friend Adam only had three
calls on his line for the whole three hours, I don't know what that's all
about." She said wonderingly. "So please thank them for coming and I
hope they can help out in the next pledge drive."
Yes Duncan would have to thank his friends
indeed, Magic and threats of violence indeed, if only Becky knew the truth. He
bent down to get a cup of water and he felt the Buzz. He looked up to see the
three ancient Immortals looking at him with a collective 'not so happy'
expression.
Duncan played innocent. "Hey, wasn't that
fun guys? Becky wants you to help with the next…" Duncan didn't finish the
sentence because three Immortals said in unison, "Never again!" And
the three Immortals turned to walk away.
Duncan looked hurt. "But guys…"
Methos, Kronos and Cassandra stopped and turned
to look at Duncan and said each word distinctly, "You - owe - us -
Highlander."
Duncan opened his mouth to protest but with the
looks he got he decided he better not say a word. As he watched the three
Immortals link arms and leave the studio he wondered, were the arts really
worth the debt he had incurred???!
Answering Leah's Midweek Challenge:
Posted by
HonorH the Arctic Wolfe on Wednesday, 12 April 2000, at 3:03 p.m.
Duncan MacLeod stretched, wincing a little at
his stiff neck. Talking on phones for two hours straight could do that to a
person, he supposed. Maybe he could talk Amanda into a neck rub later on. For
now, he had to use the bathroom.
Coming back from the men’s room, Mac looked over
the friends he’d volunteered to share the telethon duty with him. Richie, Joe,
Amanda, and Methos all sat at phones collecting pledges. Doing some good for
society, Mac thought proudly. Yes, this had been a good idea. As he made his
way back to his seat, he eavesdropped on them one at a time. Joe was first.
“Yes, ma’am, if you make a one hundred dollar
pledge, you receive a station mug, a station satin jacket, a copy of ‘Cats,’
and two gift certificates to dinner at Giardello’s.” Joe paused, grimacing at
Mac. Then something the person on the other end said caught the Watcher’s
attention. “Well, yes, ma’am, I am single . . . fifty, six foot, run two bars,
love the blues . . . really?” Pause. “Well, I suppose I can do that.” Joe scribbled
down a figure on his page. Mac’s eyes lit up at the amount. “Okay, then, Friday
night at eight. See you then.” Joe hung up and grinned smugly.
“Joe, that’s great!” Mac congratulated. “A five hundred
dollar pledge! That’s the biggest that’s come in all night. And look at all
those others. How’d you do it?”
Joe’s grin got even more smug. “Seems there are
a lot of lonely middle-aged women watching PBS, bub. I’ve got dates for every
night this week and next.”
Mac blanched as the truth sank in. “Joe,
you’re—you’re pimping yourself out for PBS?!”
Joe wafted his hands. “Hey, it’s a good cause.
You said so yourself.” His phone rang again, and as he answered it, Mac moved
on to Richie.
The young Immortal eyed Mac with something
between strong dislike and utter hatred as he answered another call. “What
would you like to pledge?” Richie asked, a bit sourly. “Yes, for twenty-five
dollars, you get a station mug. Wimpy prize for a wimpy pledge.” Richie turned
bright red suddenly. “Yeah? Well, you know where you can put your twenty-five .
. .” He eyed the receiver in disgust, then set it down and glared up at Mac.
“You realize I hate you, don’t you?”
Mac looked at his protégé disapprovingly. “Rich,
you’re gonna have to be nicer than that if you want to get pledges.”
“Oh, I was nice,” exploded Richie. “After the
fiftieth wimpy pledge from someone asking if I’d be interested in her nice,
single daughter, though, I about had it. You want to snooker someone into this
duty next time around, you can forget me. Besides, if PBS wants to have me as a
viewer, they need to start doing documentaries on motorcycle racing.” The phone
rang again, and Richie looked at it as if it was a cobra. Mac sighed and moved
on to Methos.
“You want more documentaries like that?” asked
Methos unbelievingly into his phone. “Come on! The historical inaccuracies were
laughable. I mean, slap some heavy eye makeup and gold jewelry on a bunch of
actors and call them Phoenicians. Whoopee. You want something really
interesting, try the Etruscans. I’m telling you, I could give them a hint or
two. I ought to, but they couldn’t afford me. Which brings us to the matter of
a pledge.” Methos paused briefly, listening. “Good. That might help somewhat.
Your ‘free’ gifts should be arriving sometime in the next two weeks, unless the
mailing department here is as inefficient as everything else. Your help is much
appreciated.” Methos hung up the phone and glared at Mac. “Explain to me again
why I agreed to do this?”
Mac shrugged. “Well, it might have been because
I talked Cassandra out of posting your name, location, and picture at
www.wantagoodquickening.com.”
Methos muttered and turned back to his phone.
Mac moved on to Amanda, who was just wrapping up another phone call. She
grinned delightedly at Mac, then shoved her newest pledge at him. Mac’s jaw
dropped.
“Twelve hundred dollars?!” he exploded. “Amanda
. . . how?”
The thief stretched luxuriously. “Easy as pie,
darling. Some sweet, sweet guy named John called up and asked me to say ‘dirt’.
Next thing I know, he’s all but begging me to accept his pledge.”
Mac’s jaw worked, but no sound came out. Amanda
looked prim.
“He sounded so nice I’m having breakfast with
him tomorrow morning. Hope you don’t mind.” With that, Amanda turned and
answered another call.
Mac shook his head. Well, it was all for a good
cause, he reminded himself.
Heeding the call of Leah's mid-week
challenge....
Posted by
midnyte rumour on Wednesday, 12 April 2000, at 9:21 p.m.
This is my first posted challenge attempt, so
bear with me!
Mac wiped the thin film of sweat off his brow
and did a series of vertebrae-crunching neck rolls and torso twists.
This is the absolute last time I volunteer for
this exhaustion, PBS or not, the weary Scot grumbled to himself.
He gave himself a mental shake and a stern
reminder of the reason he was in the cramped, sweltering TV station. A quick
glance around confirmed that the rest of his involuntary volunteers were
feeling the effects of the mid-July heat and limited ventilation as well.
Pausing to snag a few bottles of Evian from the
slushy cooler, MacLeod sauntered over to a wilted but determined Watcher who
was manning the first phone station.
“Terrific. Yes, ma’am, that’s right. Thanks for
your support,” Joe chirped into the mouthpiece while closing his eyes and
rubbing his temples with his free hand. He gently cradled the receiver back in
its standby position and opened one eye to glare balefully at the dark head
that was busily fanning its self with a spreadsheet of the donation guidelines.
“Oh, I suppose this is your idea of a delightful
Saturday morning, hmmm, MacLeod?” Joe grouched at his friend.
“Joseph,” the big man grinned, “You’ve only just
begun. However, if you’re tuckered out and need a break, I can certainly
understand that from a gentleman of your age.” The Highland warrior batted his
long, dark eyelashes innocently at the slatey gray eyes peering suspiciously
back at him.
The blues man snatched the half glasses off his
nose and straightened noticeably in his seat.
“Watch it, Highlander, I might be persuaded to
shoot you myself. Besides, a promise is a promise. And while it’s not as fun,
it certainly is a lot less tiring than playing two sets back to back at one of
those gatherings you made me go to last time.”
Duncan beamed delightedly at the prickly figure
before him and presented him with a bottle of chilled water from his
collection.
“Thanks, Joe. I knew I could count on you.”
He clapped a strong hand on the Watcher’s
shoulder and squeezed it quickly before moving off to the next station.
“Ma’am I’m not sure of how to respond to that
question. May I have your name and address? I’m sorry, you said you were part
of who? The Clan what? What level would you like to donate at, ma'am? Ma’am?”
Richie Ryan stood up at his station and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at his
mentor. “Sheesh, Mac, I don’t know what all this is about, but all of these
ladies keep calling me and asking me personal stuff—and it must be some kind of
relatives or family because they’re all from the Nile region or something like
that.”
MacLeod tossed a bottle to the younger man and
leaned over the station to glance at the pledges Richie had collected. “Hey,
Rich, you’ve done well this hour. I’m very impressed. Sounds like those Nile
ladies love you.”
“Yeah, well they’re making me a little nervous
with their questions. Still, I am in the top rankings for collecting pledges
this hour, and I’ve gotten the numbers of a couple fine sounding young ladies,
if you know what I mean,” Richie leered jestingly at MacLeod who snorted in
amusement.
“Rich, you certainly are successful. Just so you
know, PBS is why we’re here,” Duncan couldn’t seem to resist donning a slightly
fatherly tone.
“Relax, Mac. I’ve got it under control. Beside,
PBS is way cool—I’ve been telling you that for years. It’s about time you took
some of my advice,” the sandy-haired one grinned as he sat back down to answer
his next call. “Heck, I may take on the next shift too!”
MacLeod shook his head in wry amusement and gave
the young Immortal a thumbs up as he moved back to his own station.
Pausing at the empty area next to his own, he
pulled a pocket watch out from a snug front pocket to check the time.
Two hours late, naturally, he griped internally.
Where in bloody hell is that man?
Truly irked for the first time since discovering
the TV booth had no air conditioning to combat the freakishly hot Seacouver weather,
the Highlander flopped down in his own chair.
“We’re back on the air in 2 minutes, people!”
the harried stage manager called, “And we’ve got great news. Mr. Pierson has
informed us that Duncan MacLeod will be hosting the last hour of this shift!”
MacLeod bolted upright in his chair, “What? I’m
doing what?” he gasped.
“That’s right, Boy Scout,” a smooth voice from
behind inserted itself in his left ear. “You’re going to win me a night’s worth
of beer on the house at Joe’s.”
“M-Adam, where have you been?” the Scot
sputtered as he whirled around as far as his chair would allow.
The lanky figure clad in well-worn jeans and a
surprisingly pressed polo shirt stretched languidly before answering,
“Negotiations took forever, MacLeod.”
“What negotiations, and what does she mean,
‘hosting’ this hour?”
“The pledge drive, of course. You’re live on the
air convincing all of those PBS watchers it is their moral obligation to
contribute for the welfare of this station. I merely had to set it up for
you---that is what you wanted isn’t it? To raise as much money as possible for
the fundraiser?” The corner of Methos’ mouth twitched upward at the rapid
succession of emotions that played over the Highlander’s countenance.
“Yes, but…” Duncan sighed in resignation. “What
do you expect me to do up there for an hour?”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something to do
with that charming face of yours,” came the smug reply. “Now off with you so I
can rack up that pledge money!”
“On the air live, in ten, nine, eight..,”
Duncan plowed his fingers through his dark locks
made wild and wavy with the heavy humidity. Then he smiled sweetly at the
sprawled figure before him and scooted off to claim his microphone.
“Good morning folks, and welcome back. My name
is Duncan MacLeod, and I have an absolute treat for you this morning. PBS is
all about bringing you the best programming possible on a variety of topics.
This morning we are lucky to have with us Adam Pierson, professor of ancient
languages and dedicated member of the city’s Shakespearian Company. He will be
gracing us with a rare solo rendition of Shakespeare’s ‘Taming of the Shrew’ in
which he will play not only our hero, but our heroine as well---Adam, come on
up!”
Leah's midweek challenge...
Posted
by Irish, still
recovering from yesterday on Wednesday, 12 April 2000, at 9:58 p.m.
Please
be kind Monday at 11:45pm my husband and I were sitting in the local tavern
with our daughter and her boyfriend waiting for 12:01 to buy her her first
official drink. Mind you I'm a night owl but I can't keep up with the kids in
drinking anymore, not when we went out to dinner last night with them to
celebrate too. Oh, I guess it's not boyfriend friend any more but future
son-in-law.
Seacouver PBS pledge drive as they near their
last hour.
Duncan was getting a quick cup of coffee before
going back to the phones. He'd been kind of worried during the last break. Amanda,
Joe, Methos and Richie were not pleased with him. they weren't happy about
manning the phones for the PBS pledge drive. They had been huddled together and
wouldn't talk to him. He'd been afraid they were going to walk out.
He'd seen Amanda talking to the station manager
just before they all went back to work. After that they all seemed very happy,
and had stopped giving him nasty looks.
As he started back to his seat he began to get a
little worried. They were up to something, they were just to happy after all
that grumbling. Where was Amanda? Looking around he spotted her with the
station manager on camera.
"Mr. MacLeod would you please come down
here and sit on the stool in front of our volunteers please?"
Duncan agreed, what else could he do the cameras
were now on him.
"Ms. Montrose, I'll turn this segment over
to you."
"Why, thank you Mr. Stevens. As we
explained this is a very special presentation. Something we don't usually do,
but due to the number of phone calls we've received, we decided to hold an
auction during this last hour."
"Mr. MacLeod has graciously agreed to be
auctioned off for an evening of dinning and dancing, a picnic and horseback
riding, or what ever the two of you agree on. Although I must tell you from
personal experience Mr. MacLeod is a superb chief and a wonderful dancer. The
minimum bid will begin at $500."
"A woman bids $1000 if he'll wash her
windows and cook dinner" Joe calls out.
"$1500 if he'll wash and wax her truck
shirtless," Richie chokes back laughter.
"$2500 if he'll help a woman bath her two
mastiffs." Methos called out grinning at Mac.
Duncan trying to smile naturally in front of the
cameras wondering why he thought this had been a good idea.
(I think it's time I went to bed. Sorry for any
misspellings.)
(sung to "Midnight
Special") "It's the Mid-Week Challenge".. okay, here goes...
Posted
by Titania
on Wednesday,
12 April 2000, at 9:59 p.m.
After
a double of good Scotch whiskey, Duncan vowed he would never volunteer to
participate in a pledge drive again. That's if the PBS station would let him.
Holding the restraining order, he mused that hell would freeze over first. It had
all started out so simply. "I'll give back to the community" he had
thought. "It will give the gang something to do instead of play poker and
drink my beer." Instead it had given him a huge headache and a restraining
order. As the glow from the liquor took effect the memories of the last three
hours flowed through his mind.
"Amanda, don't even think of stealing Big
Bird's feathers. No, I don't care how much they're worth on the
black-market."
"Ritchie, you cannot promise your friends
dates with Amanda in exchange for pledges."
"Methos, would you stop telling the station
manager what's wrong with Nova's Stonehenge documentary. He's not responsible
for heaven's sake!"
"Cassandra, please stop hexing Methos. You
make the station's broadcast go out every time you do that!"
"Kronos, don't even think of trying to
restart the four horsemen with the Tellytubbies!"
"Silas, you cannot take Elmo home with
you."
"Caspian, Zooboomafo is a puppet! You can't
eat him, you dolt!"
As Duncan fell into an alcohol stupor his last
coherent thought was "I should have let Kalas take my head when I had the
chance."
FIN
Okay, here it is...my midweek challenge entry....
Posted
by Harmony
on Thursday,
13 April 2000, at 2:35 p.m.
....It's
certainly different this time around.
*******************
You what?!?
The incredulous tone in Dawson's voice was
palpable.
"Is this for real, MacLeod?"
"Absolutely, Joe." Mac answered.
"I don't believe you. Even in your dark
quickening state, you weren't this crazy."
"What can I say? There isn't anything I
wouldn't do for the arts," Duncan quipped.
"I know, but this is carrying philanthropy
a bit too far. Way too far," Joe remarked. "What if things get out of
hand? Then what?"
"I have it all under control." Mac
returned.
"Let me get this straight, you've contacted
Arhiman and arranged to have Horton, Kronos, Xavier and Kalas returned, just to
man the PBS pledge drive phones? I mean, you literally made a deal with the
devil?"
"Uh…not exactly, Joe. It's a bit more
complicated than that."
"Yeah…I bet it is." Joe retorted,
shaking his head. "Well, my friend, I sure hope you know what you're
doing. This could get pretty ugly."
"Have a little faith, Joseph." Duncan
replied.
Duncan looked on as the elderly Watcher ambled
away, his cane making small clicking sounds on the station's linoleum floor. He
turned his attention back to the studio where long tables had been set up, each
with six chairs and corresponding telephones. Duncan walked up to Randi
McFarland, who was in charge of overseeing the pledge drive this year.
"Hello, MacLeod," Randi cheerfully
greeted him. "I'm kinda surprised to see you here."
"Why? I've always supported the arts."
he replied.
"I know, but this just doesn't seem to be
the place for you, you know? You're kind of out of your element here."
"Whatever that means," he answered.
"Anyway, could you set one of those tables apart from the others. I have
some people coming to help and I think it might work better to have them set
apart from the rest of the volunteers."
Randi's eyebrows went up slightly.
"Really? Why is that?" she asked.
"Well, these guys aren't exactly your
run-of-the-mill folks. Don't get me wrong, they'll be more than happy to help
out for such a good cause. But they're…say…a bit rough around the edges."
"Okay, MacLeod, fess up. Who are these
guys?" she queried. "The last thing we need here is any
trouble."
Duncan gave her a sickly sweet smile.
"I'm not the one here who causes trouble.
Okay, okay, I'll personally oversee their behavior. Trust me, there won't be
any trouble." he replied.
"Okay MacLeod. You've been pretty
supportive of PBS over the years, I guess I'll have to take you at your
word."
Randi gave Duncan a sideways glance. He could be
so infuriatingly mysterious, but there was something about him. And it was more
than just his good looks. She sighed as she turned her attention back to the
crew.
An hour later the studio was teaming with
volunteers of all ages, shapes and sizes. Duncan pulled out his pocket watch
and checked the time. Ten till nine. They should be arriving any minute now. He
walked over and checked the table the four would be using. Everything seemed in
order.
Although he refused to show it, he was slightly
nervous. What if Joe was right? What if things turned ugly? He dispelled the
thought from his head. Nothing would go wrong. After all, he would be the only
one of them truly alive. He was in total command, here. Besides, he had an ace
in the hole.
He heard a slight rustling sound behind him and
turned to come face to face with Horton and Xavier. Why wasn't he surprised to
see these two together again? Seemed their unholy alliance had extended into
the hereafter.
"Well," he remarked, "if it isn't
the Bobsey twins."
"What are you mumbling about,
MacLeod?" Horton remarked.
"You're still as righteous as ever, I see,
MacLeod," said Xavier.
"Not righteous….noble," the gravel
voice of Kalas was unmistakable as Duncan saw him emerge from the shadows.
"Where's Kronos?" Duncan inquired,
ignoring the sarcastic remarks.
"He'll be along shortly. We thought it best
if he donned some twentieth century clothing. He hates blending in, but we
insisted." Xavier said.
"Yeah" quipped Horton, "that face
paint had to go. And I don't think the man has bathed since….well….the end of
time."
This comment brought a chuckle from Xavier.
"Touché." Kalas responded.
"Seriously, MacLeod, we were all intrigued with your little proposal and
wanted to put our best foot forward."
"How very thoughtful of you." Duncan
couldn't resist a little sarcasm of his own.
Just as he was getting them situated at their
table, he heard footsteps and turned to see Kronos walking toward them. He met
Kronos' steely gaze as the horseman approached him.
"MacLeod, why did you do this? To prove
your superiority over us? You really shouldn't have bothered. All of us have
all been at the wrong end of your blade….we know who is superior." Kronos
lamented.
"This isn't about that." Duncan
remarked.
"Really? And where is our two-timing,
treacherous friend? Kronos asked.
"If you mean Methos, he's…away. Just as
well, I don't imagine the two of you have anything left to say to each other.
Do you?"
Kronos ignored the question and pushed his way
past Duncan to sit down in the only empty chair left at the table. Duncan stood
in front of the table.
"Okay guys, here's how this works. When the
phones ring, you answer in your sweetest voice and write down the amount of
money the good people are pledging. There are various items that go with
various amounts, it's all written down there for you. After you get the
information, thank them and move on to the next call. Everybody got it?""
"This is what you called us back here
for?" Kalas asked.
"Yeah, you got a problem with that? It's
all for a good cause and you know what? If anyone deserves to make some kind of
restitution for their crimes, it's the four of you. So shut up and do something
decent for a change."
"Sheesh, don't be so peevish, MacLeod. It
doesn't become you," remarked Horton.
The phones started ringing and soon all four
were busy writing. Duncan saw Dawson come into the room and motioned him over.
Joe glanced at the four former foes and caught Horton's eye. The look between
them was poisonous, but they didn't say a word.
"So, I did some checking when I left here
earlier and I found out what all this is about. You sure are a ballsy
son-of-a-bitch, MacLeod, I have to give you that. Even for you, this is
unbelievable," Joe said.
"What do you mean, Joe?"
Dawson gave him a long stare.
"And I thought you made a deal with the
devil," Joe laughed. "I should have known you better than that. I ran
into someone outside; someone who's here to see you. He's over there, behind
the curtain. Go ahead, I'll keep an eye on these characters, "Joe said,
motioning to the huge black curtain at the back of the studio.
Duncan walked over and had no sooner disappeared
behind the heavy velvet when he saw him. His back was turned to Mac, but it was
undeniably him. For just an instant, tears welled in Duncan's eyes. He had
waited for this moment for so long, and now that it was here, he wasn't at all
sure he could handle the enormity of emotion. Then, before he had the chance to
think about it any more, the figure turned and Duncan was staring into Richie's
boyish face.
"Hey, Mac," Richie said. "Boy,
it's good to finally see you again."
Richie came over and grabbed Duncan in a manly
hug. Duncan's arms felt like lead as they automatically came up to grab Richie
in a tight squeeze. Richie tried to break away, but Duncan held him fast.
"Mac, Mac, it's okay."
Duncan released him and stood back looking at
him.
"There's so much I want to say, Richie. So
much I have to explain."
"No you don't. I already know. It's okay
Duncan," Richie said.
Duncan had so rarely heard Richie used his real
name, it took him aback for an instant. Richie continued.
"Listen, it took me awhile to piece
everything together, and I had a lot of help from some people in very high
places, know what I mean?" Richie smiled as he glanced upward.
"In fact, I'm not sure how you managed to
contact my boss, but he told me you arranged this whole scenario down here and
I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you one more time."
Duncan listened to Richie without uttering a
word. He just let the boy continue.
"Anyway, Mac, I know there's lots to do. I
appreciate you letting me supervise the lads over there. Means a lot to me that
you think I can handle them. I won't let you down, I promise. I've learned a
few things since I've been gone."
"Richie, I have so much to say to
you," Duncan repeated.
"You don't have to Mac," Richie
returned. "I don't blame you for what happened. I know you were caught in
something beyond your control. We all were. Promise me, no more guilt feelings.
I'm happy now, probably happier than I ever was here. Not that I'm not grateful
to you and Tessa. My time with you both is special to me. But I'm at a
different, better place now. Please be happy for me."
Duncan felt a lump in his throat.
"I am happy for you Richie. I just wanted
the chance to see you again, talk to you again, touch you again," he said
as he reached out and felt Richie's sleeve.
Richie held both arms out in a mock gesture.
"Well, here I am. Touch away." he
laughed.
Then he rubbed his hands together and grabbed
Duncan around the shoulder as he turned him toward the studio lights.
"Now, let me at these guys." Richie joked
as he and the Highlander walked toward the volunteers.
Midweek Challenge Lyttony
Posted
by Big John
on Thursday,
13 April 2000, at 5:13 p.m.
Duncan
MacLeod's large hands felt especially warm as the heat from the paper cups of
coffee eased right through the thin cardboard of the box in which he carried
them.
Richie, busy with a caller, scrunched his face
together and asked with his eyes, "Is a Pepsi too much to ask for?"
Duncan smiled and shrugged as he placed Richie's coffee before him.
"Big John!" Amanda squealed as Duncan
delivered her coffee. "Sweetie, it's so good to hear from you again. You
want to give another $1,200? Honey, you're just the sweetest thing I've ever
met. And not stubborn like some men I know," she said, arching her
eyebrows and smiling at MacLeod.
Duncan continued on, handing cups of coffee to
Methos and Joe. Joe accepted his with a tired smile, but from Joe Dawson even
the most tired smile was full of warmth.
Finally Duncan delivered the last cup of coffee,
just in time to hear this snippet of conversation:
"You're only pledging a quarter?"
Inspector LeBrun asked. "You son-of-a-bitch!"
:)