The Friday Series Chapter 1: Richie's Freebie, a highlander fanfic

THE FRIDAY SERIES 1
RICHIE'S FREEBIE

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS: Richie, OFC Friday, Eventually: J, DM, A, M

SUMMARY: A chance meeting in a New York bar will change Richie's life.

DISCLAIMER: All characters but Friday belong to Panzer/Davis.

NOTE: I've never written the character of Richie before, and hope I got him right, at least for this story. The beginning of this story takes place just after the episode "Something Wicked."

1995

NEW YORK CITY

Richie emerged from the YMCA and started to unlock his motorcycle that he bought the day before. He thought he might have been ripped off but wanted wheels and paid the price. As he rode down the massive city's streets, he thought back to the last time he saw his best friend and teacher, Duncan MacLeod. After taking Koltek's dark quickening, Mac was actually going to take his head. Richie could feel the cut slicing through his neck and the intensity hadn't subsided, even a couple of weeks later. He hadn't even called to ask Joe how Mac was doing and certainly wasn't going to go near him until the coast is clear. That would be all he needed, to be beheaded by his teacher!

Mac's eyes were so full of hatred, Richie wondered if he'd killed anyone during those dark days since he last saw him. Joe can't go around shooting him whenever he got to that point. Richie thought he had become a better fighter, was in great shape. But it only took a few slices with Mac's katana, and Richie was on his knees before the one who'd take his head, his teacher.

All Richie's confidence faded after fleeing Seacouver, so when he arrived in New York, he diligently worked out in the gym, practiced his sword handling in his room at night. He wondered if he should have gone to holy ground in case Duncan got it into his head and he really needed Richie's. He went to New York instead, as far away as he could go but still stay in the good old US of A. Paris was out of the question. Richie just knew that as soon as he'd get settled, MacLeod could show up and try to relieve his body of his head as Paris was his second home. Richie hated to think that way about his teacher, but it that close call was too scary. If Joe hadn't have broken his Watcher Oath and interfered, Richie would be sans head.

He stopped his bike and paused at the side of the street. Cabs and pedestrians went past with blinding speed. The world was moving, and he couldn't find it in himself to join in. Richie took his helmet off and stretched his neck, glad to still have it in one piece. He saw that he had stopped in front of a run down old tavern. Except for the neon sign that announced, "Ted's Bar", Richie wouldn't have even known it was there. Yeah, he needed a drink. Sure, it was early in the day, but he promised he'd just have one and sauntered inside after locking his cycle to a lamp post.

The interior of the bar was dim, lit by dented brass lamps that hung over chipped and worn wood tables that lined one wall with the bar itself with ratted stools lined the other. He could see there were pool tables in the back. An old country-western song was playing from the jukebox. So old, that Richie didn't even recognize the tune, but sounded like Johnny Cash.

The only customer in the place was a heavy-set woman sitting in a far booth. A man who had to be Ted was leaning against the bar reading a newspaper. He didn't even look at Richie as he sat on a stool at the bar, so Richie asked, "Beer, please?"

Ted shortly asked, "What kind?"

Richie smiled, he had a choice in a dump like that? "Whatever's on tap."

Just after Ted set the beer down and collected his money, the phone rang, giving the bartender a hopeful jolt. It rang again and Ted just stared at the phone on the shelf behind the bar. Richie asked, "You gonna get that?"

The bartender wanted privacy. He didn't know why, but had the pleasant thought that the caller had to be Margarita. It had to be. He had to take it in the office. No need to plead to his girl in front of a guy. Ted locked the cash register and asked Richie, "You won't take anything while I'm gone, right?"

"No."

Ted had to trust him, he just had a feeling that if he didn't take that call, his life would never be the same. The Cash tune ended and Richie guessed that the new song was one from Hank Williams, Sr. Ted went into the office, shutting the door behind him. Richie gulped his cold beer, then looked at the woman in the booth. Richie couldn't even tell how old she was. She was outfitted in a NYU sweatshirt, jeans, dingy white sneakers. A college student? But she didn't look his age. Her long frizzy hair was looped up on one side with the plume of a weird looking feather. Thick round glasses slipped down her nose. On each of her fingers were rings of either solid silver or adorned with gaudy stones, which were so big, Richie couldn't believe they could possibly be real. A silver loop was pierced into her nostril.

When the woman turned to look at him after sipping her drink, Richie smiled, nodded his head, in greeting. She looked back to the pina colada on the table in front of her and rubbed her finger around the rim. "Hey," Richie said. "What's your name?"

"Friday," she said in a deep, calming voice.

Richie was taken by her voice, as if it called to him. She was sipping her drink again, flicking a gold cigarette lighter and closing the cover to extinguish the flame, ignoring him. He chuckled, "You're going to tell me what your name is on Friday?"

"Funny," she said, looking at him, then ignored him again.

He shook his head. She certainly wasn't his type. She had thick glasses, frizzy long black hair, and had to weigh around 200 pounds. But there was something about her aura that he couldn't resist. Like an invisible force was calling to him, Richie had to get closer to her. He took his beer and slipped into her booth.

She smiled and looked at her watch. "Twenty-four seconds. That is not bad. I have still got it."

"Got what?"

Friday looked him straight in the eye, "What do you want?"

Richie stuck out his hand to her, "I'm Richie. What's your name?"

"My name is Friday," she articulated to him again, in case he didn't understand her words before. "At least, that is what I call myself. If I told you my true full name, you could not handle it."

There was something definitely weird, yet wonderful about her. That force... Richie felt the need to run his hand through her frizzy hair for some reason he couldn't figure out. "There's something about you..."

She saw his hand moving across the table toward her and flicked his hand away, "Of course, there is. It is hard for people to resist what I have to offer."

"That's pretty forward. You aren't the cutest thing in the world."

"I agree," she pleasantly said. She didn't pick this form she currently filled out for nothing. Richie hadn't taken his eyes off her, but she was used to it. "Yep," she smiled, kept flicking the lighter. "Men just cannot help wanting to make all their wishes to come true."

"What wishes can you give me?"

"Anything you desire, if I wanted to," she said, pulling at the loose skin over her wrist. "But, I am just here on a break. I am already serving one Master, I cannot have two at the same time. And he is really slow. He wants to make sure there are not any loopholes in his wishes. I have been with him for seven years and he is driving me crazy."

Richie tried to comprehend what she said, couldn't wipe the smile from his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I cannot give you any wishes right now. I am sorry."

"I'm not asking for any."

"Good, because you would be disappointed if you did."

Richie took another sip of beer, then wondered if it was spiked or something. He thought he saw a flash of fire spark from her wrist, Richie was sure he saw it. But since the woman didn't seem to concerned about it, the flame must have been the light of the overhead lamp reflecting on the lighter that she still clicked open and closed. "What's this about wishes... a Master?"

"Oh, you know," She flicked her wrist at him, repositioned the ostrich feather in her hair. "Everyone knows about us. They just do not know that we are real."

"Have you had many Masters," Richie smiled, played along, sipped his beer.

Friday looked up at the ceiling and mentally counted, "Let me see... I must be close to... 3000 by now."

"You're 3000 years old?" Richie laughed. "You're not immortal, you don't have a buzz."

"No," she said, wondered if he was drunk as he couldn't follow a conversation. "I have had that many Masters. What is immortal? What is a buzz?"

"I'm immortal," Richie proud pointed to his chest. "A buzz is what we feel when there's another one of us around."

It was her turn to look at him, confused. She pointed at his beer mug, "How many of those have you had so far today, young man?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

She wasn't used to be second-guessed. At all. "You think I am lying?"

Richie shrugged, and took another sip from his mug. She waved her hand. Suddenly, Richie was drinking pure lemon juice. He spit it out, looked at his beer. "What the...?"

"Because you have a nice smile, I did not change your beer into battery acid, which was my first thought."

He slammed the glass back on the table, "You did this?"

"Yes."

"Change it back."

"I do not perform tricks."

"You just did. Turn it back."

Friday took a deep breath and wondered why she even started. With another wave of her hand, the lemon juice turned back into the half glass of beer Richie had been nursing. Richie sniffed it, it was beer. "Man, I've seen some seriously messed up stuff, but you... you're a magician?"

"A jinniyah," she corrected him.

"A what?"

Friday wondered if she should just disappear and get some peace, but the young man seemed to have a cloud over him. So young. So... tortured. She decided to stick around a little longer. If things didn't go well, she could always wipe his memory of their meeting. "I am what you would call a 'genie'."

Richie laughed, and blurted out, "You don't look like Barbara Eden."

"No, I do not look like Barbara Eden," Friday spouted. "I do not flash my belly button or wear nothing but scarfs. I do not live in a bottle with fluffy pink and purple pillows."

"Where do you live?"

"The Trump Tower. Only do not tell The Donald. He does not know that I am a tenant."

"Nice place?"

She boasted, "The penthouse."

"Very nice." Richie looked at the dingy bar that he was too high class for. "Then what are you doing in a dump like this?"

"I needed a drink and I thought I would be left alone here. Imagine my surprise when Ted actually got a customer."

"You're a genie," he muttered, smiling, trying to comprehend.

"Yes. We established that already."

Richie had seen movies and TV shows and she was nothing like genies, at all. "You have magic?"

"Of course."

"Then... why do you look like that?"

"Excuse me?"

"If I had magic," Richie explained, "I'd want to look as good as possible. I'd at least fix my eyes, why are you wearing glasses?"

"I can look like anything I want. I do not want to have to deal with anything in this guise. In fact, maybe I should not be visible to you at all." Friday finished her drink, then tapped her glass and it filled up again.

"That is so cool!" he said, then downed his beer. He slid his mug over to her.

"What? You want a free drink?"

"You just got one."

"I am not giving you a free drink. Ted can use the money. I like it here and want him to stay in business. That is his girlfriend on the telephone. She walked out on him the other night and he was feeling kind of low. So, I made her call. He has been in there for a while, so maybe they are really talking it out."

Richie pushed his glass closer to her. "Well, I'd like another beer."

"Go get one."

"The bartender's not there. You give me one."

"Give me the money."

He slipped her a couple of dollars and nodded to the glass, smiling. "Fill it."

The money disappeared and his glass was full. He was hesitant to drink it when he got the glass to his lips. Making her laugh. She assured him, "It is beer, Richie."

He sipped, and smiled. "Where'd the money go?"

"It is in the cash register. What is this immortal? You mean, one who lives longer than people? Like me? You are not like me. I can spot one of us. You are not radiating blue."

Richie laughed, "Well, that's good." It was his time to boast. "You've never heard of us? I'm an immortal. The only way I can die is to be beheaded."

"Yuck!" Friday grimaced, turned back to her drink. What some guys will come up with...

"You can't ever die either?"

Friday looked at him, and saw that he was serious, not a lick of joviality in his eyes at all. "No..." He was different than most people she came across in her life. There wasn't a blue aura, but there was something about him. She surprised herself when she told him, "I can die. I grow older, but just not as fast as mortals. Or, my Master can use a wish to set me free. Then I would become mortal, like you and die of old age or any other way a mortal dies. I think dying in your sleep would be the best way to go, after living a good, long life. Do you not agree? But, I just want to stay the way I am, or the way I want me to be."

"I'm not mortal," Richie corrected her again. "I'm IM-mortal."

Friday laughed. He was certainly insistent. She thought she'd heard it all. Richie downed the rest of his beer, happy he walked in that bar. Even though the woman, Friday, was abrasive and fiddled with her skin, and wasn't at all attractive, Richie was glad to have met her. And it was actually beer he was drinking, and knew he at one time had a mouthful of lemon juice.

When Friday had seen Richie walk in, she had decided to make herself visible, be someone not immediately attractive in the present late 20^th century to see what kind of fellow he was. When he came over, she thought he was a good guy. But, turns out... he was insane. That was too bad. She'd seen a lot over the years, and an immortal wasn't one of them.

Richie saw her hiked eyebrow and disbelief and broke his mug on the corner of the table, then cut his hand with a shard. She jumped back, "You are not one of those, are you?"

"A what?"

Friday had recoiled to the corner of her booth, "I do not what they call them now... They like pain. Self-mutilation."

"No. I don't like pain, I'm just showing you something." Richie wiped off the blood on his hand. "Look."

Except for the smudged blood, there wasn't a trace of the cut she saw him make. Friday lifted her eyes to him, "You are an Afret? A Shaitan? You are not a Jin, a Jan, perhaps." She sucked in her breath, was horrified. "You are not a Marid, are you? I have not even seen a Marid for over a thousand years."

"A Marid?"

"Yes. They are the most powerful Jinn of all." She hurriedly gulped her pina colada and was going to make herself scarce. "A jinniyah only has to see a Marid if they have done something wrong. I have not been caught since..." She didn't want to even think about it, it was too emotional for her. She quickly said, "Goodbye."

Richie took hold of her hand to soothe her, "No. I'm just an immortal."

Ted came back with a smile on his face. Friday was glad to see it, he was a nice man with a dead end business. Richie said, "Where are you from?"

Ted spun around to look at him, "Me? Albuquerque."

Friday quietly told Richie, "I would not do that if I were you."

"What?" Richie was surprised the bartender answered him, his head bobbing between the two of them.

Friday said, "Ted cannot see me, he is going to think you are talking to yourself. So, do not do it, unless you want someone else to think you are weird."

"He can't see you?"

"See what?" Ted saw the other glass on the booth table. "Hey! You made yourself a pina colada?"

Richie fumbled, "Well, I, ... yeah." He looked at Friday who pushed her glasses up on her nose and made the lighter disappear. She would be no help in the situation whatsoever. Ted was hovering over him, a big guy when he was standing over him. Richie put on his most winning smile and said, "Hope you don't mind. Here, I'll pay you for it."

"5.50," Ted said, holding out his hand.

Richie gave him a $10 bill. "Keep the change. Sorry for making myself at home."

"Okay," Ted said, went back to the bar and checked to see if everything was still where it was supposed to be behind the bar.

Friday was smiling at Richie when he turned back to her. "You are a nice man. It is a shame you are not my Master."

Richie laughed at the incredible circumstance he found himself in, actually talking to a bonafide genie! Ted thought he was laughing at him, "Hey, if you keep acting weird, get outta here."

"Sorry," Richie said, then saw that Friday wasn't at the booth, or in the bar, anywhere. "Friday?"

Ted asked, "What's Friday?"

Richie was stumped, not knowing what to say. "I'll... be back Friday?"

"I'll be waiting with baited breath," he grunted, then took a picture out of his wallet and swooned at his girl.

Richie figured it was time to leave, before Ted noticed the broken mug. He put another buck on the table to cover it's cost and left. Friday was leaning against his cycle when he emerged into the daylight. "I thought you left."

A couple of teenage girls walked by. "Jeez," one said. "I know guys like their bikes, but to talk to them?"

The other laughed and said, "You see it all in New York," as they walked on.

Friday smiled, "You have to be more careful, Richie. No one but you and my Master can see me. Or people that I want to see me."

"Well, make yourself visible."

Friday turned into an old man, right before his eyes. "Hey!" Richie searched all over for the woman. "Where...?"

"I am right here, Richie," the old man's gravelly voice surprised him.

"Are you a woman?"

"I am female," the old man said. Then he shrugged, "Not really a woman."

Richie had to laugh at the old, decrepit man talking like that.

"Young man, I can be anything I want to be." The man looked both ways down the street and saw no one in particular was watching them. He waved his hand and poof! she turned into a supermodel. "Is this better?"

Richie's eyes bugged out, "Much!"

"I can look like anyone," Friday cooed with a French accent. "Or anything. I can be that lamp post if I wanted to."

Richie could only shake his head and smile, and look her over from head to toe. That was more like it! Friday got off his motorcycle and wobbled on the high heels, "Well, I should be going."

Richie made sure she was standing straight before he let go of her arm, although letting her go was the last thing he wanted to do. "Where are you going?"

"Home. Wait for my Master to call," Friday continued in the French accent. "He always does. To ask if maybe he could own Montana or something with no loopholes."

Friday gave Richie one last smile, kissed him on the cheek because he was a pleasant diversion, and sashayed up the street wearing a mini skirt so short, with a tanned and toned bared midriff under her big breasts, stilettos so high, she literally stopped traffic. Men stopped in their tracks gaping at her, the crude ones resorted to their form of welcome, cat calling. Friday stumbled on the heels and turned the corner and immediately turned back into her first form, pushed her glasses up on her nose. "I don't know how women can walk in them..."

Suddenly, no one paid her any attention, even though she left herself visible to them. Richie caught up to her and said, "Well, if you're just going home, why don't we do something?" The only thing on his agenda was finding a job as money was quickly running out, and he was sure that a day with the jinniyah would be much more interesting.

"That is sweet," she told him. "But no." The wind lifted the ostrich feather out of her hair. Richie tried to grab it, but it flew away. Friday appreciated the effort, and told him so.

He shrugged, "No problem. Sorry I couldn't get it. It looked nice in your hair." Suddenly, she was putting another feather back into her now braided hair to keep the wind from wiping it over her face.

"Why can't we do something? Blow your boss off," he smiled.

"Blow my boss? What does that mean? Some modern phrases, I just do not know." Friday stopped and looked at the sky. It was a nice sunny day and Richie seemed like he needed a friend. She could walk back home, or use a quick wave of her hand to instantly appear anywhere, or she could spend more time with the young, strange man. She listened intently for her Master, but didn't hear him. "I should not have appeared to you in the first place. If a Marid finds out... oh, I do not want to think about it. I am supposed to be 'loyal' to my Master and protect the secrecy of jinn."

Richie had gotten in front of her and was walking backwards, looking at her like a puppy. This wasn't any good. One more minute in that kid's presence and she could do something really stupid that could lock her in a box for a hundred years if her Master or a Marid found out. Locked in a box. Friday shivered with the thought of it.

She stopped walking and put out her hand. When Richie took it, she felt hot to the touch. "You are nice, Richie. Thank you for the company. Good luck. I might see you around sometime."

Before he knew it, she was gone.

People were walking past from both directions, and no one seemed to have noticed the woman was there, let alone recently made a hasty exit. No one but him. Richie yelled, "Friday!" to no avail, except to receive looks from pedestrians, who steered clear of the weirdo.

He trudged back to unlock his bike, wondering if an appearance at the Trump Tower would be a good idea. Richie missed Friday already. When he was going to put a leg over the seat of his bike, there was a parchment scroll on it. It was a very windy day, but the paper didn't move. And he swore it wasn't there a second ago. He unwrapped the purple ribbon and unscrolled it. In a very elegant calligraphy with an odd purple ink, it read,

Since you are so nice, Richie.
You can have one wish.
Just do not tell anyone!
F

He looked both ways down the street for the Candid Camera truck, or Friday. Finding neither, he looked back at the parchment, which now read,

Really.
I am giving you one wish.
ONLY one wish.
So be careful.
I cannot change it
If you choose wrong.

YMCA

That night, Richie couldn't sleep or stop thinking about Friday and the parchment. One wish... Five years ago, if he knew about immortals, he would have thought it crazy, and here he was pondering over a wish from a genie. He looked at the parchment that he had placed on the pillow next to him. It now read,

Remember
I cannot change it
If you choose wrong.

"Friday," he mumbled.

Friday appeared at the end of his bed, "What? I was sleeping!"

Richie jumped. She was wearing a flannel nightgown and rollers in her hair, only this time, not wearing those thick glasses. She scared him to death, and he almost fell off the bed. He shouted, "What are you doing here!?"

"You called for me."

"I did not!"

"Fine." Poof, she's gone.

Richie sat up, "Hey!"

Nothing.

Richie cleared his throat, "Friday?"

She was suddenly laying right next to him. He jumped, and this time, fell out of bed. "What? I need my beauty sleep."

"I really get one wish?"

"Can you understand English? I converse in every language on earth. Which would you prefer?"

"English is great."

Friday sat up and looked at Richie's surroundings. Lacking to say the least. A good wish for him would be a better place... "You know, I usually do not give an extra wish to someone, it takes a lot out of me. And it is really against the rules. Are you ready for your wish or can I get back to sleep now?"

"I want to think about it a little more. I just wanted to make sure it was all true. Go back to sleep."

She laid back on the bed and was snoring within seconds.

"At your house!"

Friday immediately disappeared. Richie whooped, he could have the mother lode! He could have anything he desired. He paced the little room speculating over the mass of things he'd like, a new motorcycle, money, magic of his own!

"Friday!"

She was not in a good mood when she reappeared in Richie's bed. "What!"

"I want for my wish... magic."

Friday didn't think he'd resort to the worst wish one could possibly ask for, "No, you do not."

"Yes, I do. Then I don't need you."

"Yes, you do."

"If I had my own magic..."

"You would not know how to handle it! That is totally against the rules and I refuse."

"You can't do that."

"Watch me," she said in an authoritative voice. "You be careful how you talk to me. You are not my Master, this is a favor. I can leave now and never come back and you are out a wish."

"Okay," Richie lightly appeased her. "I'll think of something else."

"Richie," Friday's demeanor changed to one of concern. "Do not ask for an easy way through this world, I have seen it. I have seen fine men and woman ask for 'the moon' and it kills them. Trust me. Do not ask for too much."

"Okay."

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Yes. At your place."

"Are you going to bother me again tonight?"

"No. And I'm sorry."

"Okay," Friday smiled, he was just excited and she should have expected that. "Think well. Do not call me until you are ready."

"I will."

She was gone.

Richie again paced, too excited to even think of getting back into bed. He thought about what he could have. A new bike would be good. He thought he was overcharged for his current one, maybe he could have a really great bike. But that's a material wish. Friday could give him a lemon, then where would he be? Out a great wish!

He decided to think bigger. World peace? No, that's too much to ask for, and it includes other people. He didn't want to change the world, just make his own life a little easier.

Maybe... all immortals would be good. No, that would involve other people too.

To heal Mac's dark quickening? It would help Mac, and himself. He could go back home. It seemed like a nice plan, but Friday said to be careful. Something could go wrong. "Yeah," he said aloud. "Mac could turn into Mother Theresa or something. Then lose his head when the first bad immortal comes around." He didn't like Mac's current demeanor, but he wouldn't want him to turn into a monk, or get beheaded.

The remembrance of Duncan MacLeod's eyes that night he was going to take his head filled Richie's mind again and made him shiver. He really was close to dying. What would it be like, to lose your head? Are you conscious in other immortals after they took your quickening? He sometimes felt a rumbling in his gut, for no reason at all. Maybe it was Mako? There wasn't anyone to ask that question. No one still alive knew the answer, not even Methos. Richie tried to change his thoughts back to something he'd want for a wish, but he couldn't stop thinking about the death of immortals. He grew up with the belief in God, but does that apply to immortals? It was the first time in his young life he really thought about the impact of it all.

When the sun came up, Richie finally had an idea. He wanted a freebie. If someone took his head, he wanted to have one more shot. A free life. It seemed right to Richie for two reasons, first, what if he died in a really stupid or embarrassing matter... an instant of not thinking that would lead to the lose of his head, he'd be able to live and never do what got him into trouble again. Second, he'd know what the afterlife of immortals is like. He'd have another life! It's perfect.

"Friday!"

She appeared eating a jelly donut. "You know, I am really starting to rethink this whole free wish thing."

"I have my wish."

"Then just say it. If you ever say a sentence that starts with... I wish... the magic will work, even if I am in Timbuktu, where I was going this afternoon to visit friends."

"I'd like to run it by you first though."

"To see if your wish is not stupid?"

"Yeah. And about that loophole thing."

"Very smart, Richie. Shoot."

"I'm immortal and the only way I can die is if someone takes my head."

Friday grimaced, "You said that."

"Any other way I die, I can revive."

"Ah huh."

Richie stood proud and demanded, "I want a freebie."

"A what?"

"I wish--."

"Careful!," she stopped him. Ordinarily she let people wish what they wanted. If her current Master ever figured out what he wanted, she'd have it come true ASAP, but Richie was another matter. He carried a weight on his shoulders and Friday didn't want him to waste a chance to lighten it a little. "You have not run it by me yet."

"Oh!" Richie stopped himself. "Okay. If that happens to me, if I lose my head... can I get it reattached and have another go at life?"

Friday scrutinized the possibility... "One time?"

"Yeah."

"Just one. If someone else takes your head after that, you are fine with it?"

"I'd have to be."

Friday suddenly darkened, unsure of herself, and she hated that. "I do not know about this immortal stuff. I have only worked with mortals. I do not know what the drawbacks would be. And I only gave a "freebie" once."

"What happened?"

"He turned into a cat."

"God!"

"No," Friday soothed him. "He wanted to. That was his last wish. Marvin was his name. He was a nice Master. So meek, so lonely. His last wish was asked for on his deathbed, he wanted to come back as a cat. A tabby, specifically."

"And he did?"

"Yes. A cute little orange kitten. After the last wish is granted and the offer of a fourth to negate the other three is refused, I am to wipe their memory of me and the wishes clean and have nothing more to do with them." Friday smiled while remembering the pleasant man. "But Marvin was so nice, I brought him to the home of a family with a little girl who asked for a kitten for Christmas, but did not get one and was disappointed. When I put Marvin on the doorstep with a tag that said, 'Merry Christmas Lisa', she loved him. I kept watch. There was not anything I could do if they did not want the cat, but it turned out well."

"So, you can do it?"

"Of course, I can do it. It is just... are you sure? This is your one and only wish. If something goes wrong, there is not a thing I can do about it."

"That's my wish."

He was so positive, and it seemed like nothing could go wrong. He didn't ask for a car, or motorcycle, money, anything material. Just a revival, that immortals could do themselves. Richie would just need a little help. She would reattach his head and his own body would take care of the rest, so it's not like the wish is to be revived from a total death. She'd just have to make the conditions right so Richie's body can do it himself. Friday finished the jelly donut and wiped her mouth ready to tell him it could be fine. Then thought of one drawback. "I do not know how long it will be before you bite the big one. I may be busy or..." she shuttered, "locked in a box and cannot find you right away."

"Well, you turned Marvin into a cat after he died..."

"Marvin died right after he wished it. I was right there. If this is your wish, I will know when you die. I just will not know where you are. I will have to find you to put you back together. I cannot do that long distance."

"But, when I call you, you come to me."

"Because you have not wished yet, Richie. As soon as you make that wish, I am gone."

Richie wondered what happens to immortals when they're taken. He'd always just left the corpses. "How long will it take to find me? What if I rot?"

"Well, if you explained it correctly. As long as your head is reattached to your body, you will regenerate right?"

"I should."

That wasn't a good enough answer for her to feel comfortable about giving that wish. Friday put her hands on Richie's arms like a teacher to student and said, "Maybe you should get all the answers before you make your wish."

"I don't want to walk around as a rotten corpse!" The only one he could ask to ask was Mac, and he wasn't in the talking mood.

"Do you want to think it over?"

"Hold on." Richie got an idea. He turned on the hot plate all the way up, then put his hand in the fire and screamed.

Friday was shocked. Pulled his hand back. His hand was burnt to a crisp. "Why did you do that?"

Richie said, "Looks pretty bad, doesn't it?" the hand was almost fried to the bone. The condition of his hand couldn't be much different than spending time in a coffin. Then, he regenerated.

"My World," Friday exclaimed, hand to her heart. "I have never seen anything like it before. You do not need wishes."

"I want a freebie if I lose my head."

Richie used a dirty T-shirt to wipe off the charred skin as Friday figured that the power Richie had should be able to take care of any physical drawbacks. It probably could be a good wish. "Okay," Friday nodded. "I will just tell you a couple of rules."

"Rules! You didn't say there were rules!"

"Just a couple."

"Hit me with them."

"Number one is most important. You can not tell anyone about your wish or me or Jinn or anything that has happened since you walked into that bar yesterday."

"No one?"

"Absolutely no one, even if it is a thousand years from now. If you do, since this is a long-period wish, meaning it will not happen right away, the wish is null and void if you tell anyone anything."

"That's an important rule."

"The most important. Jinn need secrecy."

Richie agreed, "I can wrap my head around that one. You can't tell anyone about immortals, either."

"Who would I tell?" She continued, "Rule number two, you cannot change your mind."

"I won't."

"I mean ever. Even if you lose your head and do not like your circumstances. I cannot change any loopholes that we are not thinking about. You are stuck with it."

Richie figured he was a great shape, a good fighter, he can take care of himself, it's just a second chance. If he hates it, he'll find the nearest immortal and have them take his head. No problem. But, what if he's the last one? The winner of the game. There's no one to take him. No immortal, anyway. If he committed suicide or had a mortal take his head, all the others' quickenings would be lost, including him. Then he shrugged, came back to reality, "You're not going to get that far, Rich."

"What far?"

When he looked at Friday again, she was out of that flannel nightgown, in a sweatshirt and sweat pants, combing out her long frizzy black hair with a jewel encrusted hairbrush. Richie shook his head, "Nothing. Anything else?"

"I only said there were a couple." She flung the brush in the air, and it disappeared. "Just also remember... even though it may seem like the wish is only about you, others could be affected by it and there is nothing I can do about it. As soon as your wish comes true, you are going to forget about me and your wish."

Richie touched her arm, "I won't remember you?"

"No."

He didn't think he could forget her, but looked her over one last time. Then he took a deep breath, "I wish....," he waited for her to stop him. When Friday didn't, he continued, with a smile on his face, "I wish that when I lose my head, you will reattach it and I will have one more life."

"Done."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah."

"No lights, no waving, no blinking, you just stood there. You didn't even bat an eye."

"I am not Barbara Eden! When I placed the wish on you," Friday explained, "you only had to tell the magic what you wanted. You have done that. I can go now. You can say 'Friday' until the cows come home and I am not coming."

"Until I lose my head."

"Yes," she softened. "I will have to find you then. As I said, it might take a while. The world is a big place."

"Before you go, can I give you a list of names?"

"What for?"

"People who might know where I am or are buried?"

"What for?"

"So you can find me fast."

"It does not work like that."

"How long will I be dead before you find me?"

"Richie, I told you I do not know. You cannot tell anyone about me, or your wish or it is null and void. But, I will give you a word of advice. Tell people throughout your life that you do not want to be cremated. I think you know why."

"I get the picture. I will."

Friday's head snapped up. "Oh," she groaned. "I have to go."

He grabbed her arms before she could wave them in the air and disappear, "Wait!"

"My Master is calling. I hope he is ready for the next wish, I am really getting bored with him. Take care, Richie. And I hope I do not have to see you again for years and years and years." Friday smiled, then was gone.

Richie looked himself over and didn't feel different. But with the added confidence of having an extra life, he paced the tiny room with a lighter step. He called Joe to ask how Mac was, hoping he could go home. Joe's voice was thick with pain, to the point of scaring Richie when he said, "Stay away kid, it's bad. Mac took Sean Burns."

FEBRUARY 1998
PARIS

In the form of a teenage girl, Friday appeared at the gate of the cemetery in Paris, wearing an oversized "Girl Power" T-shirt and biker shorts. The cold wind and snow of that stormy day rushed right through her. She waved her hand and became the form Richie had met in New York as the extra pounds could insulate her from the wind. She materialized a full length mink coat and pulled it close around her.

She'd been searching for almost two years since she got the sign that Richie was dead. In the middle of a manicure at a salon in London, Richie's megawatt smile appeared in front of her face, then faded just as abruptly. All of a sudden, the weight of the world was on her shoulders and all she could think about was Richie and what had to have been his fate. It happened so soon.

She finished up with her Master at the time and made herself scarce, not visible to anyone while she combed the world for Richie's body. Starting in New York was a logical place as that's where they met, but came up with nothing. Then she scoured the entire USA, as Richie was clearly American. Nothing. Because his death happened so fast, she wished she would have taken that list of names he wanted to give her after making his wish of a free life. She figured that when Richie would finally die, a hundred years later, a thousand years later, who know if the world would still be in it's present form. Or Richie would still know the same people. She didn't need to keep lists that wasn't going to help her. Life was too short for such nonsense, and it was too short for Richie.

Friday searched. After pouring through Canada, she decided to tackle Europe next, starting with the United Kingdom, as English was still it's predominant language and it seemed to her that Richie didn't speak another language, and hadn't had the time to learn one. After the UK was a dead end, she took the Chunnel to France and searched through every patch of burial ground in the country until she made her way south to Paris. This was the last cemetery in the city for her to check.

As she walked through it, Friday glanced at some of the headstones and felt sorry for the mass of mortals planted there for all eternity. Some of them were so young when they died.

MARGARET LEBLANC
PRECIOUS DAUGHTER
SIX MONTHS OLD

How could a six year old actually savor life? It was so sad being in cemeteries. Friday liked to see mortals alive and living. She was again wondering how Richie could have lost his life so young when her radar suddenly kicked in. He was here! She just knew it. Her feelings took over control of her feet and before long, she made a beeline for his grave.

RICHIE RYAN
22 YEARS
FRIEND

Friday smiled, having finally found him. She waited for the only people in the vicinity, an older couple with a bouquet of flowers, leave before she could complete Richie's wish. The couple's trek ended at a gravestone just kitty corner from Richie's. Friday was invisible, but what she had to do wouldn't be. Since she couldn't do anything until they left, told Richie, "You can wait another few minutes, right?"

The older woman started crying, her husband put his arm protectively over her as she wracked with mournful sobs. Friday moseyed over behind them and looked at the headstone:

ROBERT AUBERJONOIS
BELOVED SON
1970 - 1998

Friday could feel herself choking up with the sadness the woman felt, and had to take her leave. Suddenly, she was standing on a beach in Jamaica. Friday took her mink off and laid it on the sand, sat on a lounge chair and sobbed for Robert's mother's pain. The hot breeze licked her face as she reflected on what mortals had to go through. Friday only liked to see them light and happy. Like the young, newly married couple laughing and slapping water at each other in the waist high tide. Or the kids making sand castles on the shoreline. Then she realized she'd never made a sand castle the old fashioned way. She'd only used magic. Friday may have been missing things in life.

When a guy was ready to sit on her lounge chair because she was invisible, Friday grabbed her mink and disappeared, just seconds before he flopped down and opened his novel.

When Friday returned to the Paris cemetery, the sun was going down and the old couple had left. The flowers they left for Robert were kitty wompus in the vase at his grave so she straightened them. Then walked to Richie's grave. "Well, this is going to be interesting," she told herself and hiked up her sleeves to get busy.

After taking one last look around to see if there were witnesses, and comfortable that there weren't any, she cracked her knuckles and stretched. With a wave of her hand, the snow and dirt that covered Richie's coffin swirled and disappeared. Friday looked over the edge, uneasy. She never dealt with dead bodies before. She took a breath and looked down at the coffin as it's lid flipped open. She covered her mouth as the smell assaulted the air. Her eyes teared up. The snow at her feet swirled with her displeasure. She brushed her nose and waved her hand. Suddenly the air was filled with the smell of fresh cut roses.

Friday looked down into the coffin again. It was too dark. A flashlight appeared in her hand and she flicked it on, then let it hover in the air focused on Richie. Inside the coffin was a body, a head, and... a sword. Very decomposed. Richie obviously hadn't been embalmed. She waved her hand and nothing happened. For a second, she wondered if the wish he asked for wasn't kosher. He wasn't alive. Then remembered his rules of immortality. His head needed to be attached.

Friday took a deep breath to prepare herself for being so close to a corpse and didn't want to be in the ground, in a coffin, with a corpse. What if there was an earthquake? A blast of wind that would slam the lid shut, trapping her inside. With a corpse. And a sword. Licking her finger, she tested strength of the wind. It was calm after the snowfall, and was from the north. If it did blow hard, it would keep the lid open, not slam it shut. To be on the safe side, she made the lid disappear.

Friday waved her hand and put herself down in Richie's coffin, latex gloves appeared on each of her hands. She bent down and moved his head closer to his body for his wish to come true. Marvin was attached when he died and she didn't have to manipulate him. The severed ends of Richie's spinal column touched. "I hope you appreciate this," she shivered at the gruesome task.

She stood up, feet next to Richie's hip and waved her hand again. Bright lights appeared and she swept herself back up to the ground out of the way. Sparks and lights flooded out of the coffin. She did it! It worked! She couldn't wait to see Richie again. Friday picked herself up onto her feet and saw a groundskeeper with a shovel in his hand, shocked at the light show coming out of a grave.

Friday waved her hand and the man fell to the ground. Couldn't have witnesses. He'd awake in the morning and not remember a thing. But, the mortal would probably freeze to death if he stayed out in the elements all night. In an instant, the groundskeeper was encased in a nice thick sleeping bag with a goose-down pillow.

The light show over Richie's grave was astounding and even Friday was in awe of the power. It had to be a force that was not mere magic of a wish coming true. It must have something to do with that immortal angle Richie talked about. When the lights and snow and dirt and smoke in the air dissipated, Friday looked over the edge again, moved the floating flashlight to be able to see. Richie sat up. Naked. Held his sword, confused.

She waved her hand and suddenly, Richie stood next to her, still holding onto the sword. Not at all modest about his nakedness. "Hi!" Friday smiled. There was no reaction from him. She waved her hand in front of his face. No reaction. "Richie?"

The man wobbled, "Who?"

"Richie Ryan?"

He stood and processed it all. Looked at the headstone. "Looks like Richie Ryan is dead."

"No, you are standing right there."

"Me? I'm dead?"

"Not anymore." She was as confused as he was as she'd never given life to a really dead person. Only Marvin who wanted to be a cat, and knew what he was after turning. Richie seemed to be a shell. Oops! Something must have gone wrong.

Richie was turning red, then blue, but didn't feel a thing. He looked around and saw that he was in a cemetery. "What am I doing here?"

"Well, you can talk, and can read, that is a good sign," Friday smiled, hopeful. "Maybe you just need time to figure it all out." She couldn't give him his thoughts, because she really didn't know him, and didn't want to give him the wrong ones.

"Who are you?"

"Turns out, I'm your only friend right now." Richie looked so lost, cold. Friday put her mink coat around him when it looked like he was going to cry. She'd never had such a reaction to a granted wish before. It was only after wishes didn't turn out like they wanted did the wisher became despondent. "Do you remember anything? You are immortal, remember?"

"A what?"

"Where are you from?"

"I don't know."

"Why were you buried in Paris?"

Richie looked at the sword and dropped it. He was in sorry shape. "I don't know!"

"Oh, Richie," Friday groaned. "I did not see this coming."

They looked at each other. Richie pulled the coat around him, "Who are you?"

"My name is Friday. You do not remember me? Or your wish? I have not cleared your thoughts yet." He only stared at her dumbfounded. Since she made sure she was Master-free after getting the sign of Richie's death, she at least hoped to be able to talk to the young man, that he would know her. "Tell you what," she said. An antique teak and jade encrusted box appeared in her hand. She opened the golden latch and said, "I am going to get into this. And you open it. Then you will be my Master. I am a jinniyah without a Master right now and you are a body without a mind. We can help each other out. Okay?"

Richie smiled, looked at her large frame. "You're going to get into that little box? I don't think so."

She was flabbergasted at the plus sized joke. Richie in New York would never stoop to such a level. He had to get his memory back, and quick! "Just open the box!"

Friday disappeared and the box fell to the ground locked. Richie looked around, still thoroughly confused. Grossed out by the open coffin when he looked over the edge. Amused at the hovering flashlight. When he touched it, it fell to the ground. There wasn't anyone around but some old guy in a sleeping bag. What the hell was going on? He picked up the box. Heavy! He laughed, that big woman must be in there. This was all too weird. How did he get in a cemetery in the middle of the night? Where was he before? Who was he? He had no idea.

He finally flipped up the latch and the force of Friday's escape made him drop it. After the smoke cleared, he saw the lady standing in front of him again. "How did you do that? You were in that box!"

"And it was very uncomfortable," Friday yelled as she paced, snow swirling up around her, fire escaping from her arms. "What took you so long? I almost thought you were a trickster and you trapped me in there on purpose! I should know better than get myself into close spaces! I hate close places!"

She looked at the young man wrapped in her coat and realized he did the best he could with the mind he had. She pulled at the skin on her arms and contained the fires of anger she had felt and took a deep breath. "Okay, I will go through what I know for you, Master. I am a jinniyah. You released me. You now have three wishes."

"What?"

"I am a genie, Richie." She put her hands in front of her, locked them on her elbows and blinked while jutting down her head, just like Jeannie.

"You're not Barbara Eden!"

"We are not having this conversation again."

"I get three wishes?" For the first time since emerging from his coffin, Richie was happy, smiling.

"Yes. I see you did not lose your genie lore in whatever happened to your mind. And you have a vocabulary. That is very interesting. You just do not know who you are for some reason."

"I'm naked." He finally realized under that coat.

"Yes. Wish number one might be to get some clothes."

"Okay."

"Say it."

"Clothes."

"I wish... ," she prodded him.

"I wish I had some clothes."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Richie was pushed to the ground by the weight of an assortment of jeans, T-shirts, suits, silk shirts, suits, trousers, underwear, coats of all shapes, fabrics and lengths. All the things he could ever want. Then a Samsonite suitcase hit him in the head.

Richie rubbed at the bump the suitcase made on his forehead and yelled, "Hey!"

"You know, I could have been difficult and given you a bunch of ball gowns. You were not very specific! Pick what you want and put something on while I finish up here."

He picked through the clothes, wondering if he was dreaming. He couldn't remember where he last was, so he couldn't tell. He pulled on a black t-shirt while Friday straightened up his grave, removing every last trace that he was even there. The tombstone was gone and smooth, untouched, hibernating grass was under a bed of freshly fallen snow where his grave had once been.

Richie was straightening the leather jacket on his body when she turned around. "Figures," she moaned. "Of all the things I gave you, you chose jeans and a T-shirt."

"I'm comfortable."

"Pick what you want, only what will fit in the suitcase."

He packed it with all the nice stuff. When he tried to shut the suitcase, there was too much, so he took out socks until it shut. As soon as the locks clicked, the rest of the clothes from his wish disappeared.

"Hey! What about the other stuff?"

"They are not yours. You can only take what you can carry with you. You should be happy I gave you a suitcase."

"How about shoes?"

"You want to waste your second wish on shoes?"

"No. I'll get them from somewhere."

"No stealing," Friday was adamant. "If you do anything illegal, all wishes are null and void. Even the one that made it possible for you to be standing here."

"You didn't tell me that."

"I am telling you now."

"Wishes are really null and void automatically if I take a stupid pair of shoes, even it if's a ten dollar pair at Walmart?"

"Well, not really," Friday had to concede. "I just do not like thieves."

"Then why didn't you give me shoes! It's cold."

"Shoes and clothes are not the same thing. In fact, I threw in the underwear and coat."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome." Friday realized she had been a little short with him because of being trapped in that box for so long. It really wasn't his fault and she shouldn't have taken it out on him. She looked at the sword still laying where Richie dropped it. "Why were you buried with a sword?"

"I have no idea."

"Is it a custom? Something that immortals use?"

"What's an immortal?"

"Okay. We have a problem." She rubbed her neck, "I knew there would be problems. There are always problems. Who can we talk to about immortals?" She slapped her forehead. "Oh, shoot, I made a mistake."

"A genie can make a mistake?"

"So sue me. I wiped out all traces with the cemetery that you were ever here. So, we cannot find out who paid for your funeral. There is nobody that I can think of to ask what you are and why and all that. I did not realize you would lose your memory! Why would you lose your memory? You seem to remember everything else, just... not who you are."

"Should I make my next wish, my memory to return?"

"No, Master, you do not know your memories. You have to know what it is that you are wishing for."

"There are a lot of rules to this."

"I did not think it would come up." She paced in the snow, making it swirl around her. "This did not happen with Marvin, so it has to be immortality that made you forget."

"Great, where does that leave me?"

"Did you have any friends?"

"I don't know."

"On your tombstone it read, 'Friend'."

"Then I guess I had friends."

"I wonder if they would visit you two years after your death. Someone? Anyone?"

"I don't know," Richie moaned. The sense of hopelessness flooded him. He was scared and alone. "I hope so. What do we do?"

"Well, wait, I guess. We have all the time in the world."

"We do?"

"Yes. I am a jinniyah. You are an immortal. As long as you do not lose your head and you do not wish me to be mortal, we are going to live."

"But that would be your wish, wouldn't it?"

"What?"

Richie told her, "To be made mortal. Free."

"Why would I want that?"

"Well, they all do."

"Who does?"

"In movies." Richie thought, "In that kid movie, Aladdin! Genie wanted to be set free."

"I am free when I do not have a Master. I do not get a new Master if I do not want one. I like helping people. It makes me feel needed. That is the movies, Richie. I am real. Do not wish me mortal," she warned. "You have two more wishes."

Richie paced with her and thought, then said, "I wish..."

"Stop! You do not know what you are wishing for."

"I want a visitor."

"But you would not know who to ask for. It could be another immortal who would take your head again."

"Why would someone take my head?"

"You are the immortal, I do not know." Suddenly she rethought that afternoon in New York. "Why did I go to that bar? I should have gone to Bali and gotten a massage."

She stewed about it. Richie took her hand and softly said, "But then, I wouldn't be here. I'd be in there," he pointed to where his grave was. "Thank you."

Friday was shocked. No one ever thanked her before. Especially not a Master. She knew he was a good guy when she saw him, "You are welcome, Master."

Richie liked the title she bestowed on him, but his mind was still spinning. It was a big empty shell. "Tell me who I am."

"I really do not know. I only found out your last name when I saw your tombstone."

Richie reflected on the ground where he laid for two years and wished he would have been able to see that tombstone for himself. He looked so lost and sad, Friday almost felt like she was going to start bawling again. "I am sorry, Master. I should have asked more questions before granting your wish, but I did not know the questions to ask."

Richie picked up the mink coat and put it around her shoulders. "This cemetery is creeping me out. Let's go for a walk and you tell me everything you know about me again. Maybe something will pop." He picked up the suitcase and took her hand. "And maybe I can trade a nice silk shirt for a pair of boots."

Friday smiled, "Now, that is the right thought. Stealing gets you no where. What kind of boots would you like?"

"Timberlanes?" Richie stumbled, instantly, a black pair were on his feet. "Thank you. So, I only have one wish left?"

"No, two. That was a gift." They were to the gates of the cemetery when Friday stopped them. "Maybe we should hang around here. Someone might come around to visit you one day and we should be here when that happens."

"Okay," Richie said, putting the suitcase down. Instinctively, he felt safe there, but didn't know why. "But it's cold."

Suddenly, they were on the beach in Jamaica. "It would not hurt to warm you up for a minute," Friday said as she once again pealed her coat off and basked in the hot sun. "And get a drink." She grabbed two pina coladas from a tray of drinks as a waiter passed by.

The waiter stopped when he distinctly saw two glasses float in air, then disappear. He counted the drinks on the tray, and there were four, like he set on it at the bar. He looked up at the hot sun, and wondered if he was out in it too long.

SEPTEMBER 20, 1998

Joe Dawson walked into the cemetery with a heavy heart and flowers to lay on Richie's grave. He had to admit to himself that it was a hard trek to make every year on the kid's birthday, but he thought he remembered where he was buried. Joe couldn't find it. He looked at the other tombstones and remembered Carl Dubois that was right next to Richie's! What happened? Where Richie's grave had been was an open space.

Joe marched to the office to see what happened to his friend's grave. The secretary was startled by Joe's request, but looked up on the computer where a Richie Ryan was. Seeing nothing, she looked up Richard Ryan. "Did he go by another name, sir?"

"No."

She was hesitant to tell the man, "There's no Richie Ryan in this cemetery. Are you sure you have the right one?"

"Of course, I'm sure," Joe was getting more angry every minute. "I made the arrangements!"

"And your name?"

"Joe Dawson."

She looked it up. Nothing.

Joe couldn't believe the ineptitude of the cemetery's system, "Did you move him?"

"No, sir. According to the files, there's never been a Richie Ryan in this cemetery. Do you have the name wrong?"

"No! I was at his funeral. I put flowers," he waved the ones in his hands around. "On his grave on his birthday! Where is he?"

"I'll get the manager of the cemetery, sir. Just wait right here." She was out the door.

Friday appeared in the corner of the office and walked to the boisterous man at the counter. "Excuse me, sir. Can I talk to you?"

"I want to talk to whoever's in charge!"

"That would be me," Friday quietly told him. "Please, sir. Come with me. I have answers for you and I sure want answers from you."

Before Joe knew what happened, he was back outside, with the lady standing next to him. Surprised, he lost his footing and she held him to keep him from falling. "What the hell is going on here!"

"You know Richie Ryan?"

He paused, looked at her. "Yes."

"Are you good friends?"

"Yes, who are you?"

"I am happy to find you, but not as happy as you are going to be. I have a hell of a surprise for you." She pointed down the lane at Richie, smiling that someone finally came to see him.

Joe blinked, then blinked again. He intoned, "Richie?"

Richie smiled and held out his hands, shrugged. He still didn't know anything of his life, only what he experienced since he got out of that grave. He walked to Joe, and Joe thought he was in the Twilight Zone, clutched onto Friday to keep from fainting.

Richie stuck out his hand in greeting, "Hello. What's your name?"

"Joe. I'm Joe!" Joe pulled him into a hug. "How did this happen? Are you really Richie? Richie Ryan?"

Richie was surprised by the hug, but was happy someone knew him, and finally paid his grave a visit. "That's what she tells me."

Joe stepped back and looked at Richie's face. There wasn't a hint of remembrance in his face. "What do you mean?"

"Joe," Friday said. "Richie has lost his memory."

"He lost more than that," Joe stepped back, wondering if this was a demon's prank again. That Ahriman somehow came back to life. "He lost his head."

"Yes. I was able to take care of that," Friday said.

"You?" Joe looked at the strange woman with a feather holding her wild black hair up on one side and thick glasses that slid down her nose. "How?"

"He made a wish. I am a jinniyah." He looked at the woman from her frizzy black hair to her stubby, worn sneakers on her feet. Before he could say anything, she said, "No, I am not Barbara Eden."

BAR

They took Joe to a quiet place where they could talk and Friday explained only as much as she needed to make him believe her and the events that made it possible for Richie to be sitting there sipping a draft. Joe could only stare at his young friend. "You were dead, man."

"Yeah. I got another chance, thanks to Friday."

"It was your wish, Richie. I did not do anything."

A slow smile crept on Joe's face as he asked Friday, "Can I have a wish?"

"I can only serve one Master at a time. Joe, Richie does not know who he is or what he is. Do you?"

"Yeah," Joe smiled. "I know everything about you, Rich."

Friday was excited, "You know about immortals?"

"Yeah."

"Are you an immortal?"

"No."

"But you know about them and about Richie."

"Yes."

"Great. Tell him."

Richie looked to the older man for answers. Anything. Joe situated himself in his chair and started, "Well, you were turned in Seacouver."

"Turned?"

Joe was surprised such a simple part of immortality was lost on the immortal. "Yes, you experienced your first death, making you immortal. You were mugged with Tessa."

The name meant nothing to Richie, "Who's Tessa?"

Joe paused, "Oh, boy. You don't know anything."

"That's what we've been trying to tell you," Richie slammed his wrist on the table in frustration. When someone finally came to visit him, his hopes were up. But there was so much he didn't know about his life. Something as simple as a woman's name threw him. Tessa? Was she a girlfriend? Wife? Sister? Mother? Enemy?

Joe had to explain all about Immortals and Watchers to them both, and how Richie fit into the picture. The names Joe mentioned didn't mean a thing to him. Immortality, the game, the gathering, it all was like a fairytale. But, Richie sat back and listened to everything Joe had to say.

After a couple of more drinks, Joe came to the event he and Mac had tried to come to terms with. "He thought you were Ahriman when he took your head."

"My teacher?" Richie sat back shocked. From Joe's telling, Richie was looking forward to meeting this Duncan MacLeod, proud that such a man was his friend and teacher. "My friend killed me?"

"Mac didn't mean to," Joe said. "He thought you were something else. Different forms kept being revealed to him. Even though he saw you, he thought it was a mind trick from Ahriman."

"Tricksters!" Friday groaned. "They are the bane of existence." She tapped her glass to freshen her pina colada, then offered to fill Joe's scotch.

He turned it down and concentrated on Richie, "Mac would never hurt you. When he figured out what he did... he spent a year on holy ground. He was ready to give up his place in the game. We both mourned you, Richie. We still are mourning you." Then he smiled. "Were. I can't believe you're sitting in front of me. You look just like you did when... it happened."

"Yeah," Friday laughed. "I was so nervous he would have to walk around a shrunken blob of a corpse with flies swarming around him and..." they weren't joining in on her visual, so she cleared her throat and asked Richie, "So, now you know who you are. Is anything ringing a bell?"

"No."

Joe painfully asked, "Don't you remember me?"

Richie stared at him, really wanted to, but had to admit, "No."

Friday was still confused. "How could you lose your memory? That did not happen to Marvin."

"Who's Marvin?" Joe asked.

"A guy I turned into a cat."

"I take it," Joe smiled. "He wasn't an immortal."

"No. I had never even heard of immortals until I met Richie."

"Ah," Joe sighed. "I think I've got it. Quickenings," he said, as if that explained everything to them. "You lost your quickening to Mac."

Friday said, "The essence that you talked about. That is the answer, Master! Your essence went into the winner, right? That is how it works? Well, you have to take the head of this Mac person, and you will get your thoughts back."

Joe said, "He can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Mac's a friend."

"Well," Friday chuckled. "Some friend! He took Richie's head. Tit for tat."

"By accident."

"Okay," Friday said, but was confused. All she cared about was Richie. It did seem like a simple solution though.

"You need a sword, Richie," Joe said. "You're immortal. If you forgot who you are, you've forgotten your training."

"I don't have a sword."

All of a sudden, the one he was buried with appeared in his hand, and he sliced Friday in the arm. "Ow!" She rubbed the wound away. "Be careful with that thing."

"Where did it come from?"

"I figured you would want or need it since you were buried with it, so I kept it for safe keeping."

"You could warn me you're going to make it appear," Richie said. "I could have hit Joe."

"It does not work like that."

"Rules!" Richie stood up, at the end of his rope. "I'm tired of rules!"

The bartender told them to hold it down and put that sword away or he was going to call the cops. They made a fast exit. In fact, extremely fast. In an instant, they were all on the sidewalk a couple of blocks away.

Joe snapped at Friday, "Would you quit doing that?"

Richie ambled down the sidewalk, not knowing how to take the information Joe had given them. He actually wondered if it would have been better to not know anything. His best friend took his head? His teacher? Joe yelled for him to stop and couldn't catch up, so Friday waved her hand and Richie was frozen on the sidewalk. Joe smiled at Friday, "Thanks."

When he caught up to Richie, he suggested, "Let's go see Mac. He's at the barge. He's going to shit when he sees you!"

"So he can take my head again? No way!" Richie tried to move, but couldn't. He yelled at Friday, "Would you stop it?"

"Would you like to make moving your feet your second wish, Master?"

"No!"

"Then no. Listen to Mr. Dawson."

"Mac's your friend, Richie," Joe told him. "It was an accident. He needs to know you're alive! He can help figure out what to do."

"He has your thoughts, Richie," Friday reminded him. "It might be a good idea."

"Might be?" Richie echoed. "Something'll go wrong."

BARGE

Amanda was making supper and playing music on the stereo as Duncan was sitting on the couch with a scrap book in his lap. Richie's birthday had hit him hard. When Joe asked if he wanted to go with him to visit the his grave, he couldn't do it. The guilt of ending his student's life so suddenly still gnawed at him.

Amanda was trying to be cheerful, lighten the Highlander's mood, but was getting no where. She thought she'd have to dance the dance of the seven veils to get his attention, but then, didn't want to be ignored after such a display.

Duncan flipped the page in the scrapbook and the smiling faces of Tessa Noel and Richie Ryan appeared. He brushed his finger along Tessa's cheekbone, and placed his hand over Richie's chest, hoping to get some feeling from the pixels of color that formed them on the paper. Two friends that filled his life so fully were gone in an instant with a mugger's bullet and a short swing of his katana. If only he could have those seconds the mugger pulled the trigger and when he swung at Ahriman back. If only...

They both felt a buzz, then heard a groan outside. Joe stumbled through the door, "Mac! You aren't going to believe it!" Duncan fell to the floor, doubled up, like his insides were on fire. Screams ignited within his brain and every nerve in his body.

On the deck, Friday helped Richie as he needed to sit down, sick to his stomach. He couldn't breath, his head was spinning. As soon as he was settled on the deck, he folded himself into a fetal position and screamed, "Make it stop!"

Amanda came to the doorway and about fell down when she saw a man who looked exactly like Richie moaning on the deck. "Richie?"

Friday told him, "Something is wrong with him. He got sick all of a sudden. Do you know what it is about?"

Joe appeared behind Amanda and said, "Oh, I forgot to tell him that part. It must be your buzz."

Amanda was shocked, "That's Richie?" She knelt beside him and touched his arm. "Richie? Is that really you?"

Friday said, "It is Richie Ryan in the flesh."

Amanda stared at the frizzy haired woman. "Who are you?"

"My name is Friday," she said with a pleasant smile, extending her hand. Amanda slowly shook her hand and stared at Richie as if in a trance.

Richie started to feel better and sat up, a little embarrassed. When he had walked up that plank, granted, he was feeling apprehensive about meeting his killer, but didn't think he'd get dizzy, weak and feel like he was going to throw up. It came on so suddenly, then just as instantly, faded. Amanda told him, "It's just our buzz, Richie." She had to smile that she was actually talking to him. "It's an immortal warning radar."

"Warning? From you?" Richie slapped her hand off his arm and told Friday, "Maybe this was a bad idea. I don't want to be here."

"I'm not going to hurt you," Amanda declared. Richie snapped to his feet so fast, she had to back away. He looked exactly the same, and there wasn't even a scar on his neck. How was it all a joke? He couldn't be standing there. He just couldn't. "How are you alive?"

Friday asked, "You are immortal, too?"

Amanda said, "Yes," and couldn't wipe the smile of joy off her face. She grabbed Richie into a hug, which he got himself out of. She was cute, but he couldn't help but think he'd gotten himself into danger.

Friday asked, "You can feel when other immortals are around you?"

"Yes."

"Cool!"

Amanda said, "You know that, Richie." She didn't like that he was inching away from her like she had the plague. She asked the mysterious woman, "Who are you?"

"I am Richie's friend."

"My only friend," Richie corrected her. "Friday's like my guardian angel."

"No, Master," Friday corrected him. "Angels are on a higher plane than jinn."

"I want to get outta here. Let's go."

"But, you can't!" Joe extended his cane in front of Richie before he could take off down the plank. "These are your friends, your family. This is Amanda, and Mac is right inside. I don't know where Adam is, but we're all friends here, Richie."

Duncan's agony subsided and he slowly picked himself up off the floor. In over four hundred years of his life, he hadn't ever felt that sensation before, like his soul was talking to him, but he couldn't make out the words. When he recognized voices outside, he moved dazed to the door. As soon as he saw the face of the young man by Joe, Duncan fell against the doorway. He had to be dreaming! "Richie?" Richie looked at Duncan as if he was a total stranger. His student was right there in the flesh! "You're alive?"

"You're Mac?"

Duncan could only nod.

Richie spouted, "I'm alive no thanks to you!"

"You are Duncan MacLeod?" Friday asked.

They all nodded. Richie said, "I'm outta here."

"Richie," Friday stopped him. "He has your thoughts. You should be a little more respectful."

"I what?"

"You took his quickening," Friday told Duncan. "Everything he knows is inside of you."

"Maybe I want my thoughts back!" Richie whipped out his sword. "Maybe I should take your head, you bastard!"

Duncan cowered back, "It was a mistake."

"I can take you by mistake, too!"

Duncan's soul rumbled up again with the growing anger of Richie. He was talking to him inside his body, echoed with every word Richie said, making him fall again. Richie swooped over him with the sword.

Amanda grabbed Richie's sword hand and yelled, "No!"

Joe said, "Everyone settle down. Let's go inside. People could hear us." Watchers were probably out there and he was standing there with known immortals. Joe had retired from the organization, but he didn't want anyone to get the idea he was friends with them. Knowing Amanda's and Duncan's new watcher out there, he hadn't planned on visiting Duncan at his home. They would just run into each other in a public place, or talk on the phone. But Richie's return made him waltz right to Mac's door.

"You know what?" Richie yelled. "I wish--."

Friday took Richie's sword from him and clasped her hand over his mouth, "You should not wish anything right now. Believe me, Master. You will only regret a wish made in the heat of the moment."

"What are you talking about," Amanda asked.

"We need to exchange information," Friday told them all as they stood out on the deck. "Let us go inside like Mr. Dawson suggested and talk calmly."

After they got Richie comfortably seated in the closed space of the barge, they sat around the table. The conversation consisted of everyone being filled in with immortality, Jinn, how Richie lost his head, his wish and how he revived. All during that time, Duncan couldn't stop staring at Richie and Amanda couldn't help staring at Friday. "I know you," she finally said, shaking her finger at the jinniyah. "I know I've seen you somewhere before."

Friday lightly asked, "Have you ever been to Djakarta?"

"No."

"Me, neither." Friday and Richie smiled because after spending seven months with her, he appreciated her humor. Amanda didn't, so she admitted, "You look familiar, too."

"How old are you?"

"What a thing to ask a lady," Friday put her hand on her chest in mock surprise. "I could ask the same of you."

"I'm 1200 years old," Amanda proudly stated for the record.

"Oo! Goodness," Friday looked the skinny immortal up and down. "You are well preserved."

"Thank you. And you are?"

"Older than that," was all Friday would divulge.

"How old?"

"Old as the hills."

"Come on," Amanda kept prodding.

Even Richie was interested so Friday said, "Okay. I am..." she paused to calculate. "According to your calendar, I will be 2,391 next month."

Duncan wasn't interested in the conversation and once again, had to touch Richie's arm to make sure he was real. Richie jerked back and spouted, "For the eightieth time, I'm really alive, Mac."

Duncan's gut echoed with every word of Richie's but was mellowing. Richie was calm. "I'm so sorry, Richie..." He tried to tell him every grief-filled, mournful thought he'd had since taking his head, but couldn't go on.

The pain on Duncan's face finally registered with Richie and he sighed, "Thank you. Good thing I got that wish."

"Good thing you were nice to me at the bar or you would not have," Friday reminded him. "It always pays to be nice."

"It's really a new start," Duncan mused, ignoring everyone and focused only on Richie. "I can be your friend and teacher again."

"I don't know," Richie muttered. "I'm not sure I can trust you with a sword."

"Of course you can, Rich. Let me make it up to you."

"Okay, give me your head."

Friday said, "Master!"

"Humor. A joke," Richie shrugged.

Duncan sat back like he was punched in the stomach with that remark. Joe and Amanda both replied at the same time, "It wasn't funny."

"I've got it!" Amanda finally figured it out, and pointed her finger at Friday. "You were in the court of Edward II. You were the fire eater."

"That would be more than likely," Friday nodded.

"You were thin then."

"Yes. What of it?"

"I don't mean..."

"I was locked in a Faberge egg for 77 years. I was very hungry. I swore I would never be hungry again. Whenever I take on a skinny form, I am hungry all the time. This is the shape I am comfortable with so deal with it."

"I didn't mean that. I just meant, it took me a while to figure out where I knew you from."

Joe asked Friday, quite amused, "A Faberge egg?"

"It was not pleasant."

"If you're a genie," Joe started.

"If?" Friday thought they were beyond that point, but she wasn't going to resort to parlor tricks.

Joe said, "You can take Richie's memories from Mac and put them into Richie."

"No, I cannot."

"Why not?"

"Richie does not know what his memories are. It is his wish, his thoughts, his memories. He has to know what he is wishing for. If what you said about immortals is true, I could get one of the others MacLeod has taken and put into Master. Then were would we be? He would have ruined one wish."

Duncan didn't think Kronos or Caspian would do well in Richie's body. Well, Kronos and Caspian would have a field day, but no one else would. That had to be Richie's essence talking to him from inside that made him sick. He'd never come across an immortal he'd taken. That had to be it. "How about... if I wished that Richie's thoughts were back with him?"

"I can only serve one Master at a time."

"No," Richie said. "You were serving another Master when you gave me my one wish. Why not give him one?"

Friday debated it. "Well, Master. My first goal is to serve you. When I gave you that wish, it had nothing to do with my current Master. That is why I did it. If I were to give a wish to him, it would have to do with you. And... I am sorry to confess... I do not trust you, Mr. MacLeod. You killed my Master once. I cannot let you fool with his head anymore."

Duncan felt like he'd landed in a surreal world. He was Richie's teacher. His best friend. His mentor. Richie told him many times he wanted to be just like him 'when he grew up'. Now neither he or his genie trusted him. But he could see their point. They didn't know him, as much as it pained Duncan to admit.

Amanda suggested, "Why don't we tell Richie what all we know and then he'll know what his memories are and he can fish through Mac's head with his wish and find them for himself?"

Friday quickly asked her, "Have you known Richie since his birth?"

"No."

"There are events and thoughts you were not privy to. It will get all confused. Trust me, it will be a wasted wish, or worse than you can possibly imagine."

Duncan hopefully said, "But, he'd remember everything since he became immortal. That's the important part."

Friday only looked at him. "Mr. MacLeod, would you want all traces of your life before you met Richie erased? Would you want your personality to be only what others tell you it is? That would not be your memory or you. And, the thoughts could be skewed. Maybe what Richie was thinking was not what you thought he was thinking at the time."

"I'm trying to help."

"Thanks, Mac," Richie said. "I'm just going to have to start living from now on. I remember our summer," he smiled to Friday. "I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure I never had lunch on top of Mount Everest before."

"You have to start training again, Rich," Joe said. "You have to prepare for the game."

"Me," Duncan was insistent. "I will teach you again."

Richie debated it then they felt a buzz. Duncan rushed to the door as it opened, to protect them all as he wasn't expecting any visitors and Richie couldn't defend himself at the moment.

Methos pushed open the door as Duncan got to it and they landed in a hug. "Nice to see you too," he smiled, looked around at the people.

"Trickster !" Ostrich feathers flew from her hair. Friday was out of her seat, then like that, she disappeared. The feathers fluttering to the floor.

"What the..." Methos said, then saw Richie, who was sick from the new, sudden buzz of Methos. "Richie?"

Amanda was rubbing Richie's head since he collapsed against her, "In the flesh."

Methos eyes popped out. He'd seen it all. At least once. But reattached beheaded immortals? Never. "How?"

"Magic," Amanda explained.

Richie sat up a little embarrassed for not handling what Duncan and Amanda took for granted. He looked at the new arrival, "And you are?"

Joe said, "This is Adam. Another friend of yours."

Adam didn't look for familiar to Richie than any of them. Duncan's gut rumbled as Richie's memory did recognize him. Richie stood up suddenly alone and vulnerable in a room full of strangers. "Where did she go? I need her! Friday!"

The ticked off jinniyah appeared at the door to the bathroom. "Not until he leaves." Then she disappeared again in a puff of smoke.

"Methos?" Joe said. "What did you do to her?"

"Who?"

"Friday!" They all said.

Richie Ryan was standing there in the flesh. Because there was something in this world that he couldn't get his head around, Methos grabbed Richie's arms and shook him, "How are you in the land of the living?"

Richie shook him off, "What's a Methos?"

"Me."

"I thought you said his name was Adam," Richie asked Joe.

"They're one and the same."

Richie looked at Methos in the eye, "Why do you have to go around with a fake name?"

"It keeps me interesting," Methos said, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "Now really, how are you here? We saw you... Joe and I saw Mac take your head, we saw your quickening go into him."

Duncan's gut rumbled violently. The words Methos said sunk into Richie and he was ticked, "My friends were standing around while another 'friend' took my head?! Who are you people?! Friday!"

Friday appeared, "Are you ready to leave, Master?"

"No," they all told her, but Richie. She looked at her Master. It was his word that she had to obey.

Joe said, "Let's just sit down and talk again. We were getting somewhere before you showed up," he knocked Methos against the head.

"I always did know how to make an entrance," Methos smiled. Then looked at Friday standing on Duncan's bed, overlooking them all. She seemed real. As real as Richie. He had to hand it to MacLeod, he certainly did a great prank this time.

Joe nudged Richie back to his chair, "Come on, Richie. Let's talk this out."

"Okay," Richie sat, then told Friday. "You don't go anywhere."

"Is that your second wish?"

"No."

"I am not staying while he is here," she said, then disappeared again.

Methos asked in wonder, "How do you do that?"

After they explained it all to Methos. He didn't know this Friday person, and actually thought them all mad to believe in a jinniyah. Whenever Richie would call for her, she had to appear, but would disappear just as quickly when she caught a glimpse of the 'trickster'. Methos tried to get a look at her to place her when Richie would call her, but she would disappear so fast, he couldn't tell who she was. Or, if she was even real. They liked to play little tricks on the oldest man and he wasn't going to fall for it. He got up for another beer and sat back down, accidentally kicking the leg of the table. The table jumped and moved over, knocking over all the glasses, except Methos' beer, which he still clutched in his hand. As they all grabbed their glasses and towels to wipe up the mess, Methos just sat back and sipped his beer.

Joe put his hands on the table, "It's warm."

Richie felt the warmth, but just as suddenly, was cold as she left the form. "She can be inanimate objects." He smiled as he went out to the deck to talk to her so she wouldn't disappear again. "Friday?"

She appeared, and stayed visible. He was so glad to see her, Richie grabbed her into a hug. "Don't leave like that anymore. I need you. You can't leave me alone with them."

"You were not alone, Master. I was there all the time. I was the table."

"I know."

"When is he leaving?"

"Adam, or Methos?"

"What a jerk."

"What did he do to you?"

Instead of answering, Friday was lost in thought, "I wonder if he would like to be a toad."

"Friday," Richie laughed. "Come inside. He can't hurt you."

"He is a trickster. He tricked me. That does not happen often and I do not like it."

"I'll make sure he doesn't do anything. Come inside. Just, don't do anything to him."

"That sounds like an order."

"No, I'm asking."

Friday smiled and liked her Master very much. "Okay." As soon as they walked back into the barge and she passed Methos' chair, she stuck a finger in his face and warned, "Do not mess with me."

Methos batted her finger away and giggled, "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Yes, you would. Do not be pleasant. I hate when tricksters are pleasant."

Methos was amused by the tale they told about the weird woman, and her reaction to him. He smiled at her and asked, "Disappear again."

"I do not do parlor tricks for tricksters. I know you don't believe what I am. I heard every word you said. You just have to behave."

Methos smiled as he sipped his beer again. "What is your definition of a trickster?"

"What else do you call a person who tricks you. I thought you would be dead by now. You are immortal too? Figures. How many immortals are there anyway?"

"We have no way of knowing."

Joe said, "Well, up to last year, the database was at over 2000 active."

All immortals asked, "Really?"

Friday kept an eye on Methos for any quick movements. What irritated her even more was that he stared back. Duncan was relieved that he was able to convince Richie that being his student would be his best chance at surviving the game and promised that his beheading him would never, ever happen again. Friday finished her pina colada and tapped her glass for more.

Methos pointed at her, "I believe that was a parlor trick."

She waved her hand and in an instant, Methos had turned into a large animal, breaking the chair he was sitting on. "I was just waiting for a reason."

"Friday!" Richie jumped back from the table as the animal head butted him. "You turned him into a donkey!"

"No, an ass! Which is what he is."

"Turn him back!"

Friday pleasantly asked, "Is that your next wish, Master?"

"No. That's an order. Turn him back."

Instantly, Methos was sitting on the floor, not knowing how or why he was sitting on a broken chair and everyone was snickering. "What?" Then focused on Friday. "Who are you?!"

"Let me refresh your memory," she waved her hand and instantly she was an exotic, thin woman. Her glasses gone. Her hair long and silky. Wearing a long red cloth cinched at the waist with a cord.

Methos gasped, "Laminae?"

Friday waved her hand again and she was back to how she wanted to be, pushed her glasses up her nose. "I should be flattered you remember."

Methos couldn't believe it. He knew she wasn't immortal, no buzz. That little waif was an actual jinniyah he ran into just over 2000 years ago?

Amanda said, "He didn't put you in that Faberge egg, did he?"

"No," Friday firmly stated. "If he was, he would still be a jackass, and nobody could talk me into bringing him back. I hate closed spaces."

Methos stood up and stared at her. "You mean that really was a true wish?"

"Yes! Do you really think you would have accomplished bedding Cleopatra without a little magical intervention?"

Duncan was dumbfounded, "You bedded Cleopatra?"

Methos just shrugged and sat back down. A gentleman doesn't talk about such things.

Friday was furious to dredge it back up, "I was pulled into Marid tribunal because of that!"

By her hostile demeanor, Methos remarked, "And... I take it that's a bad thing?"

"The worst!"

Amanda had to ask, "How did his tricking you into him bedding Cleopatra get you into trouble?"

"I was Cleopatra's handmaiden, and she was my Master. I gave out a freebie to that one," he flipped a flash of fire at Methos, "because I thought he had a nice smile. I cannot serve two Masters at the same time. I learned my lesson."

Methos just barely missed getting his head singed when another flare of fire shoot out of her wrist toward him. "Quit that!"

"I had to clean out the ostrich cages for 100 years because of it!"

Methos started laughing. "Well, I've lived long enough to know not to argue with jinn. I'll come out on the wrong side no matter what I say."

"True."

"So, I'll just leave."

"Thank you. And do not come back."

He left. Duncan kicked the broken pieces of the chair away and sat back at the table. "Well, I know I don't have any wishes coming to me, but I sure wish I knew what Cleopatra's three wishes were."

"Oh, I can't divulge such things," Friday piously exclaimed.

Amanda popped her on the arm, "Oh, come on. It's just us."

"Okay," Friday quickly said, sliding her chair closer to the table to tell them. "Her first wish was a gold colored horse." When she saw their faces fall, Friday reminded them, "She was queen, what did she need riches for? A gold colored horse was very rare, and fit for a queen. She thought long and hard about her next two wishes." Friday pleasantly smiled, "For her second, she conceived her child with Julius Caesar. Her last wish was a grand ship with all the luxurious touches for then she would sail out to meet Mark Antony and make a deal after Caesar's murder so she would still be on Egyptian territory and there was not time to have one built. I liked her very much." Friday wiped back tears when she admitted, "Although, I wish she would have wished for a fear of snakes."

She didn't want them to see her bawl, so she disappeared to the Bahamas again to pull herself back together. Joe asked Richie, "How long have you been with her?"

"Seven months."

"When did you meet her?"

Richie shrugged. "In New York, she told me that. Around '95 or so."

Duncan and Joe exchanged glances and Duncan again felt the load of guilt wash over him. "You took off during that year."

"I left you and my training?"

Duncan sighed as he didn't want to bring it up. Joe said, "Remember when we told you about dark quickenings? Mac had one in '95. I had to shoot him to keep him from taking your head."

Richie jumped up, "You were going to take my head twice?!"

"No!" Duncan was emphatic. "It was a dark quickening, Richie, and I had thanks every single day that Joe stopped me from doing the absolute worst thing a friend and teacher can do." Which he ended up doing... Because that didn't calm Richie at all, he repeated, "It was a dark quickening."

Immediately, Friday was back, scaring Duncan when she demanded, "What is this dark quickening?"

"You become what head you take. Koltek was full of evil and I had trouble integrating him. The very definition of a dark quickening is turning into something you would never be."

"Were you still under this dark quickening when you finally did take the head of my Master?"

"No," Duncan admitted. Friday needed answers about the safety of her Master with those people and their words couldn't be trusted. She rubbed her hands together and then placed them on Duncan's head. "Think about how it happened, Mr. MacLeod. How did you take the head of my Master?"

The visions she received were fast and furious. Duncan started crying through the process of reliving the moment when he slashed out at the body he was certain was the demon. Then saw his student fall to his knees in front of him. The others, Kronos, Horton, the fake Richie, all disappeared. All that was left was the headless body of his student, wobbling on his knees. Then, he fell backward. Both Duncan and Friday cried out in pain. Friday feel on her back as Duncan wailed, "It was the worse thing I ever did in my life, Richie. You were my student. I was to protect you always... I couldn't. I failed."

He doubled over in pain, his body heaving with sobs. Amanda rushed over and cried along as she cradled him in her arms. Joe stood and gently put his hand on Richie's back. "We all mourned you, Richie. We all love you."

Richie could see the tears sliding down the man's cheeks, through his own. He could see and feel the pain on that boat. Duncan clutched at Amanda and hoarsely whispered, "I failed you."

Friday picked herself up and stood between Duncan and Richie to protect him. Then realized she didn't need to. The extent of Duncan MacLeod's misery had blanketed her heart. She told Richie, "You are safe with them, Master." It was up to Richie to make the decision, so she waved her hand and became the chess board on the table in front of Duncan and Amanda on the couch so he could make it in peace.

"Mac," Richie started, making Duncan's head snap up to attention. "I don't know if I can trust you to teach me." Duncan closed his eyes and accepted it. "But, I do want to be your friend."

Duncan smiled and tentatively stood, waiting for any offering Richie would give him. Richie stuck out his hand to shake a truce. When Duncan took it, Richie pulled him into a hug. "I'm sure we were friends once. I can feel that."

Amanda stood behind Duncan and touched his back, so happy for the offering. Soon, both she and Joe were a part of the group hug. Joe brushed his hand on top of Richie's head and said, "Welcome home, kid."

Duncan grasped Richie's head and told him, "I will not fail you again, Richie. I swear it."

Amanda kissed Richie on the cheek. "None of us will."

"Maybe my second wish should be a teacher," Richie suggested.

Friday appeared sitting on the table and motioned to Duncan, "I think you have one already. As long as you still have two wishes, I am going to looking out for you, Master. They will not be able to hurt you."

Richie regarded Duncan and finally asked, "Was I a good immortal?"

"Yes," Duncan said without hesitation.

"Was I a good fighter?"

"Yes."

"Then," Richie smiled, "it shouldn't take too long to get back into the swing of things."

"We can start in the morning," Duncan hopefully suggested.

"Here in Paris?" Richie paused, then said, "I must be a truly American guy. The food here is too rich."

Duncan smiled, remembered that's what Richie told him before. "Then, we can catch a plane back to Seacouver in the morning."

CONTINUED in Part Two - An Immortal With Amnesia and His Jinniyah