Oriented, Disoriented and Generally Confused
Highlander: The College Years- Story 1
by: Quicksilver
mbsilvana@yahoo.com
Standard Disclaimers
Author note: Another older series I dug out and revised. This is the first in a planned series of stories. In this universe, Archangel didn't happen, and Richie is going to college. Penn University may be real, but I don't think it is. (There's a U of P, but this ain't it!)
I have it set in the city of Philly, on the West side. Some of the places mentioned may be real. Anyone wanna guess what college I'm attending?
Can anyone imagine a sword-wielding college student? All sorts of possibilities!
Thanks go to RC and Joanna, my betas. Virtual chocolate (hershey's kisses) for them as well. :-)
********************
"There are three ingredients in the good life: learning, earning and yearning."
-Christopher Morley
********************
Richie Ryan looked down at the books he had just purchased. They were damn heavy and cost more than it cost to feed a family of four for a month. He sighed and shook his head. "Mac, I don't think this was such a good idea."
Duncan MacLeod smiled, his whiter-than-white teeth flashing in the sunlight. "You're doing this, Richie. I've paid your tuition already, and I NEVER make bad investments."
Richie looked at his former teacher, sometimes friend, and the greatest irritation of his Immortal life. "Can't you just take my head and get it with over quickly?" he begged. He REALLY didn't want to do this.
"We've discussed this already," MacLeod said seriously, looking intently at his protégé. "More than anything, you'll need an education. You've got to become more intelligent if you expect to survive the Game and life in general."
Richie's cheeks flushed with bright humiliation, remember the time he hadn't been so smart. Richie Ryan had been officially "dead" and now there was nothing he could do about it. He was trapped by his own stupidity. "Fine. But don't expect me to enjoy it."
MacLeod sent a knowing smile towards Richie. "We'll see. Besides, How often do you get to be eighteen twice?"
********************
"You can lead a boy to college, but you can't make him think."
-George Ade
********************
Richie Ryan looked at the other people in his orientation class. They all seemed so young and nervous. He looked at his "Uncles" Duncan and Adam (who seemed to be deriving far too much amusement from this to suit Richie), then at his "Father". "I'll get you all for this," he promised himself under his breath. He didn't think he and Dawson looked enough like each other for the charade to work.
A lady walked onto the stage, wearing a truly hideous lavender suit. Her shoes were at least four inches high, and her fat thighs rubbed against each other. Richie tried not to flinch as she made her laborious way towards the microphone. He watched, feeling an unexpected twinge of fear. He had earned a GED, but not an actual high school diploma. As he looked around at his new peers, he thought each one looked ten times as smart as he was. What the hell am I doing here? he wondered for the fiftieth time.
The lady picked up the mike, and it screeched in protest. Adam and Duncan covered their ears, but Dawson just laughed. I thought musicians were suppose to be more sensitive, Richie thought.
The purple blimp finally spoke. "Hello! I'm Sydney Wallace, your Directer of Student Affairs! I'd like to welcome you to the one hundred and third year of Penn University!"
The audience applauded politely, but Sydney wasn't done yet. "Before we begin, I'd like to welcome a special guest, Miss Badu Jackson."
An African American woman dressed in the bright robes of her ancestors walked on-stage and took the microphone away from Sydney. She looked at the audience and smiled. "First, I'd like to begin with a song...."
Richie closed his eyes, pained. If there was one thing he hated, it was singing in a group. Methos looked at him, smirking.
********************
"Anyone who is happy all the time must be mad."
Leo Rosten
********************
Richie looked at the people who would be sharing the next five years of his life. They were all liberal arts majors, and looked the part. Richie, a kid from the streets, was frankly shocked by all the piercing these kids had managed to do. He slouched down in his chair, trying to become invisible.
"So, what's your name?" asked the nearest kid, a tall young man with hair that almost blocked his eyes.
Richie thought of ignoring him, but decided it was better not to make any enemies. Yet. "Ryan Richardson," he answered, flashing his charming smile.
"Neat! My name is Richard Wisniewski. People call me Dick, though," he said cheerfully.
I can see why, Richie thought, trying to be compassionate and failing. This kid was barely eighteen, and this was probably the first time he'd been away from home. He was a touch too friendly, too eager. Richie felt light-years older. If all the freshmen are like this, maybe I can see about getting in an upper-classmen's dorm....
"Nice ta meet cha," Richie replied politely.
"So where you from?" Dick asked. "I'm from York, Pennsylvania. Not that far away...." Dick started.
Richie spent the next five minutes nodding his head, unable to get a word in edgewise (i.e. tell the kid to shut the hell up). Finally the door opened, and in walked an older student.
"Hi!" she chirped cheerfully. "My name is Jenni, with an i, and I'll be with you for the next semester! I'm gonna show you how great Penn Universtity is! I hope you'll be patient and learn to love the place as much as I do!"
She moved to the front of the room, and Richie got his first good look at her. She was slender without being thin, pretty without being gorgeous. The cheerleader type, he thought with a groan.
"Now, first, I want to get to know all your names! You are all going to be family for the next five years, so then we're going to do some bonding activities."
They exchanged personal information (name, home, dorm and such) for the next fifteen minutes, Richie worrying about the "bonding" activities. Bonding was too new-agey for him, and he REALLY didn't want to be here. He considered challenging Duncan -or better yet, Methos- just to get out of here. Methos would take his head if he asked politely enough. Considerate Immortal that he was.
Richie was almost asleep when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Dick looked at him nervously. "You'll be my partner, right?" he asked worriedly.
Richie considered telling him to go shove something up where the sun didn't shine, but once again, his good sense stopped him. "Sure," he mumbled.
Jenni was pairing off the people who didn't have partners. "Okay," she began, "I want you to tell each other the most important secret in your lives," she said.
Richie almost laughed. Tell a perfect stranger his major secret? "Um, hi, my name's really Richie Ryan, I'm twenty-three, and I'm Immortal. I go around chopping people's heads off." Here's your first-class ticket to the loony bin, sir.
Dick bit his lip, trying to decide. "Um, well," he began, a flush creeping up his neck.
"I'm an orphan," Richie said quietly, deciding that it was a safe enough "secret" to share.
Dick's eyes widened like Richie's admission was a major secret. "I'm a virgin!" Dick blurted out quietly.
Richie looked Dick over and tried not to smile. The kid was still going through an awkward phase, but he'd have his share of ladies when everything came together. Richie felt his dislike towards Dick fade away. Dick was just a kid. "It won't be forever," he consoled quietly.
Dick looked at him. "You're not?" he asked.
Richie laughed. "I lived on the streets for a while," he explained. "No one's innocent past their fifteenth birthday.
Dick was about to replied when Jenni interrupted, bouncing back towards the front of the room. "Since you've all shared secrets, you all now have made your first friend on campus! Aside from me, that is!" She flipped through a pile of papers that were sitting on the desk. "Now for the hard part. Roommate assignments!"
This time Richie groaned out loud.
********************
"Man is the only animal that blushes- or needs to."
-Mark Twain
********************
Methos dropped the suitcase on the floor, glaring at MacLeod's protégé. "What the hell did you pack?"
Richie smiled, finally getting a little of his own back from the ancient. "That happens to be my weight equipment." He faked a concerned expression. "Is it too heavy for you?"
Methos muttered something about Richie's probable ancestors. Dawson stepped in before things escalated. "So where's your roommate?" he wondered, trying to distract the bickering immortals.
"I dunno," Richie shrugged. "Maybe he decided he didn't want to come after all," he said hopefully. College policy forbade freshmen from having single dorms, but that didn't stop Richie from hoping.
"We might as well unpack," MacLeod suggested. He grabbed the bed clothes and started to make the bed closest to the window. Richie watched, bemused. He had no idea that MacLeod could be so... domestic. An image of Duncan waving a broom at an enemy flashed through Richie's mind. Unworthy of him, but it was still damn funny.
Methos headed back towards his car to bring some more of Richie's stuff. Richie had just started to unpack his clothes when there was a commotion at the door.
He looked up, surprised. A thin woman entered, followed by an older, harried-looking gentleman. The gentlemen had a firm grip on a boy's arm.
The boy was obviously Richie's roommate. He was slender, and barely five six. His face was effeminate, pretty in a Leonardo Dicaprio kind of way. His hair was a glossy black, and his eyes a dreamy blue. Obviously the females would love him, and the males would hate him. Richie sighed. He wondered what the kid would do it he decided to take out his sword.
The woman gave him an appraising look. "You must be Ryan," she said bluntly.
Richie smiled, determined to charm. "That's right. The man with the cane is my father, Joe-" he said. Joe waved, then went back to sorting Richie's CD's into alphabetically order. "The man-" he frowned, trying to figure out what MacLeod was doing, "um, cleaning, is my Uncle Duncan." Duncan didn't even look up, intent on... whatever he was doing. "And my last uncle, Adam, is down at the car, getting more of my junk."
The woman nodded. "I'm Dana Trels, this is my husband Kyle, and THIS," she said, grabbing her reluctant offspring and pushing him forward, "is Alex."
Richie smiled comfortingly. "Hi," he said.
"Hello," Alex replied quietly. His voice was naturally soft, but Richie caught the melodic sounds from that one word. This boy was going to be trouble.
"So, how about you start unpacking?" Richie suggested. Alex smiled shyly at him.
It was then, of course, that Methos re-entered the room, swearing all the way, carrying all of Richie's assorted weaponry. Alex's eyes widened as the old man dumped it on Richie's bed.
"This damn stuff kept poking me in the ass! Why the hell did you pack it all? Your sword and a pole would have been quite enough! When I was in college, we didn't have all this damn stuff! You brought some clean underwear, shampoo, and enough beer to see you through a semester!" Methos declared. He stopped as soon as he realized how quiet the room had gotten. With a muttered oath (muttering was become one of his favorite actions) he spun around and exited to get more.
"Um, he's sort of cranky," Joe said, filling the silence. "Long trip."
"What's all that stuff for?" Dana demanded. She looked at Richie like he was a wolf about to eat her beloved child.
Richie already had an explanation planned. "I'm a martial arts expert," he explained. "These are my tools." He picked up a quarterstaff (one of the least threatening things in his arsenal), tossed it to Alex, who caught it, even though he was surprised. "If you want, Alex, I can teach you some stuff," he offered. Maybe I won't have to protect him all the time that way....
Alex swung the quarterstaff experimentally. His eyes were wide. "I think I'd like to learn," Alex said determinedly.
Richie had a flash of what Alex's life must have been up until then. Too pretty for his own good, he'd been beaten on by all the boys, and pitied and coddled by all the females. Enough to drive any self-respecting male to thoughts of suicide.
"It's not that hard," Richie said encouragingly. "In fact, if we go to the Gym tonight, I can teach you some of the basics of self-defense."
Alex nodded, then turned towards the door. "I'm going to go get my stuff," he said.
Kyle left with his son, leaving only Dana with MacLeod and Richie. MacLeod was now absorbed in something else (ironing underwear?) Richie thought, incredulously. "I'll keep an eye on him," he reassured Dana.
Dana's eyes softened. "Thanks," she whispered. Then she straightened her spine. "If anything happens to him, it's on YOUR head," she said.
Richie laughed. "No one messes with my buds and gets away with it," he said.
********************
"The way to love anything is to realize it might be lost."
-G. K. Chesterton
********************
MacLeod looked at Richie. "I guess it's time for me to go."
Richie nodded, once again feeling a pang. Every time he and Duncan said farewell to each other, it as more and more possible that it was the last time.
"I'll write," Richie promised.
"Of course you will," MacLeod laughed, having already seen Richie's idea of "correspondence". A postcard with a message like "I'm fine" scrawled on it. Then MacLeod's face grew serious. "You'll do well enough," he reassured Richie. "You're a bright kid."
The problem with being so fair, Richie thought, is that your skin blushes so easily. "Thanks, Mac," he said.
Duncan reached out and hugged Richie. "See you in a couple of months," he said. He started to walk towards the car where Joe and Methos were waiting.
Richie watched him leave. As the car drew out of sight, Richie turned away, back towards his dorm, and towards his new life.
THE END
Highlander: The College Years- Story 1
by: Quicksilver
mbsilvana@yahoo.com
Standard Disclaimers
Author note: Another older series I dug out and revised. This is the first in a planned series of stories. In this universe, Archangel didn't happen, and Richie is going to college. Penn University may be real, but I don't think it is. (There's a U of P, but this ain't it!)
I have it set in the city of Philly, on the West side. Some of the places mentioned may be real. Anyone wanna guess what college I'm attending?
Can anyone imagine a sword-wielding college student? All sorts of possibilities!
Thanks go to RC and Joanna, my betas. Virtual chocolate (hershey's kisses) for them as well. :-)
********************
"There are three ingredients in the good life: learning, earning and yearning."
-Christopher Morley
********************
Richie Ryan looked down at the books he had just purchased. They were damn heavy and cost more than it cost to feed a family of four for a month. He sighed and shook his head. "Mac, I don't think this was such a good idea."
Duncan MacLeod smiled, his whiter-than-white teeth flashing in the sunlight. "You're doing this, Richie. I've paid your tuition already, and I NEVER make bad investments."
Richie looked at his former teacher, sometimes friend, and the greatest irritation of his Immortal life. "Can't you just take my head and get it with over quickly?" he begged. He REALLY didn't want to do this.
"We've discussed this already," MacLeod said seriously, looking intently at his protégé. "More than anything, you'll need an education. You've got to become more intelligent if you expect to survive the Game and life in general."
Richie's cheeks flushed with bright humiliation, remember the time he hadn't been so smart. Richie Ryan had been officially "dead" and now there was nothing he could do about it. He was trapped by his own stupidity. "Fine. But don't expect me to enjoy it."
MacLeod sent a knowing smile towards Richie. "We'll see. Besides, How often do you get to be eighteen twice?"
********************
"You can lead a boy to college, but you can't make him think."
-George Ade
********************
Richie Ryan looked at the other people in his orientation class. They all seemed so young and nervous. He looked at his "Uncles" Duncan and Adam (who seemed to be deriving far too much amusement from this to suit Richie), then at his "Father". "I'll get you all for this," he promised himself under his breath. He didn't think he and Dawson looked enough like each other for the charade to work.
A lady walked onto the stage, wearing a truly hideous lavender suit. Her shoes were at least four inches high, and her fat thighs rubbed against each other. Richie tried not to flinch as she made her laborious way towards the microphone. He watched, feeling an unexpected twinge of fear. He had earned a GED, but not an actual high school diploma. As he looked around at his new peers, he thought each one looked ten times as smart as he was. What the hell am I doing here? he wondered for the fiftieth time.
The lady picked up the mike, and it screeched in protest. Adam and Duncan covered their ears, but Dawson just laughed. I thought musicians were suppose to be more sensitive, Richie thought.
The purple blimp finally spoke. "Hello! I'm Sydney Wallace, your Directer of Student Affairs! I'd like to welcome you to the one hundred and third year of Penn University!"
The audience applauded politely, but Sydney wasn't done yet. "Before we begin, I'd like to welcome a special guest, Miss Badu Jackson."
An African American woman dressed in the bright robes of her ancestors walked on-stage and took the microphone away from Sydney. She looked at the audience and smiled. "First, I'd like to begin with a song...."
Richie closed his eyes, pained. If there was one thing he hated, it was singing in a group. Methos looked at him, smirking.
********************
"Anyone who is happy all the time must be mad."
Leo Rosten
********************
Richie looked at the people who would be sharing the next five years of his life. They were all liberal arts majors, and looked the part. Richie, a kid from the streets, was frankly shocked by all the piercing these kids had managed to do. He slouched down in his chair, trying to become invisible.
"So, what's your name?" asked the nearest kid, a tall young man with hair that almost blocked his eyes.
Richie thought of ignoring him, but decided it was better not to make any enemies. Yet. "Ryan Richardson," he answered, flashing his charming smile.
"Neat! My name is Richard Wisniewski. People call me Dick, though," he said cheerfully.
I can see why, Richie thought, trying to be compassionate and failing. This kid was barely eighteen, and this was probably the first time he'd been away from home. He was a touch too friendly, too eager. Richie felt light-years older. If all the freshmen are like this, maybe I can see about getting in an upper-classmen's dorm....
"Nice ta meet cha," Richie replied politely.
"So where you from?" Dick asked. "I'm from York, Pennsylvania. Not that far away...." Dick started.
Richie spent the next five minutes nodding his head, unable to get a word in edgewise (i.e. tell the kid to shut the hell up). Finally the door opened, and in walked an older student.
"Hi!" she chirped cheerfully. "My name is Jenni, with an i, and I'll be with you for the next semester! I'm gonna show you how great Penn Universtity is! I hope you'll be patient and learn to love the place as much as I do!"
She moved to the front of the room, and Richie got his first good look at her. She was slender without being thin, pretty without being gorgeous. The cheerleader type, he thought with a groan.
"Now, first, I want to get to know all your names! You are all going to be family for the next five years, so then we're going to do some bonding activities."
They exchanged personal information (name, home, dorm and such) for the next fifteen minutes, Richie worrying about the "bonding" activities. Bonding was too new-agey for him, and he REALLY didn't want to be here. He considered challenging Duncan -or better yet, Methos- just to get out of here. Methos would take his head if he asked politely enough. Considerate Immortal that he was.
Richie was almost asleep when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Dick looked at him nervously. "You'll be my partner, right?" he asked worriedly.
Richie considered telling him to go shove something up where the sun didn't shine, but once again, his good sense stopped him. "Sure," he mumbled.
Jenni was pairing off the people who didn't have partners. "Okay," she began, "I want you to tell each other the most important secret in your lives," she said.
Richie almost laughed. Tell a perfect stranger his major secret? "Um, hi, my name's really Richie Ryan, I'm twenty-three, and I'm Immortal. I go around chopping people's heads off." Here's your first-class ticket to the loony bin, sir.
Dick bit his lip, trying to decide. "Um, well," he began, a flush creeping up his neck.
"I'm an orphan," Richie said quietly, deciding that it was a safe enough "secret" to share.
Dick's eyes widened like Richie's admission was a major secret. "I'm a virgin!" Dick blurted out quietly.
Richie looked Dick over and tried not to smile. The kid was still going through an awkward phase, but he'd have his share of ladies when everything came together. Richie felt his dislike towards Dick fade away. Dick was just a kid. "It won't be forever," he consoled quietly.
Dick looked at him. "You're not?" he asked.
Richie laughed. "I lived on the streets for a while," he explained. "No one's innocent past their fifteenth birthday.
Dick was about to replied when Jenni interrupted, bouncing back towards the front of the room. "Since you've all shared secrets, you all now have made your first friend on campus! Aside from me, that is!" She flipped through a pile of papers that were sitting on the desk. "Now for the hard part. Roommate assignments!"
This time Richie groaned out loud.
********************
"Man is the only animal that blushes- or needs to."
-Mark Twain
********************
Methos dropped the suitcase on the floor, glaring at MacLeod's protégé. "What the hell did you pack?"
Richie smiled, finally getting a little of his own back from the ancient. "That happens to be my weight equipment." He faked a concerned expression. "Is it too heavy for you?"
Methos muttered something about Richie's probable ancestors. Dawson stepped in before things escalated. "So where's your roommate?" he wondered, trying to distract the bickering immortals.
"I dunno," Richie shrugged. "Maybe he decided he didn't want to come after all," he said hopefully. College policy forbade freshmen from having single dorms, but that didn't stop Richie from hoping.
"We might as well unpack," MacLeod suggested. He grabbed the bed clothes and started to make the bed closest to the window. Richie watched, bemused. He had no idea that MacLeod could be so... domestic. An image of Duncan waving a broom at an enemy flashed through Richie's mind. Unworthy of him, but it was still damn funny.
Methos headed back towards his car to bring some more of Richie's stuff. Richie had just started to unpack his clothes when there was a commotion at the door.
He looked up, surprised. A thin woman entered, followed by an older, harried-looking gentleman. The gentlemen had a firm grip on a boy's arm.
The boy was obviously Richie's roommate. He was slender, and barely five six. His face was effeminate, pretty in a Leonardo Dicaprio kind of way. His hair was a glossy black, and his eyes a dreamy blue. Obviously the females would love him, and the males would hate him. Richie sighed. He wondered what the kid would do it he decided to take out his sword.
The woman gave him an appraising look. "You must be Ryan," she said bluntly.
Richie smiled, determined to charm. "That's right. The man with the cane is my father, Joe-" he said. Joe waved, then went back to sorting Richie's CD's into alphabetically order. "The man-" he frowned, trying to figure out what MacLeod was doing, "um, cleaning, is my Uncle Duncan." Duncan didn't even look up, intent on... whatever he was doing. "And my last uncle, Adam, is down at the car, getting more of my junk."
The woman nodded. "I'm Dana Trels, this is my husband Kyle, and THIS," she said, grabbing her reluctant offspring and pushing him forward, "is Alex."
Richie smiled comfortingly. "Hi," he said.
"Hello," Alex replied quietly. His voice was naturally soft, but Richie caught the melodic sounds from that one word. This boy was going to be trouble.
"So, how about you start unpacking?" Richie suggested. Alex smiled shyly at him.
It was then, of course, that Methos re-entered the room, swearing all the way, carrying all of Richie's assorted weaponry. Alex's eyes widened as the old man dumped it on Richie's bed.
"This damn stuff kept poking me in the ass! Why the hell did you pack it all? Your sword and a pole would have been quite enough! When I was in college, we didn't have all this damn stuff! You brought some clean underwear, shampoo, and enough beer to see you through a semester!" Methos declared. He stopped as soon as he realized how quiet the room had gotten. With a muttered oath (muttering was become one of his favorite actions) he spun around and exited to get more.
"Um, he's sort of cranky," Joe said, filling the silence. "Long trip."
"What's all that stuff for?" Dana demanded. She looked at Richie like he was a wolf about to eat her beloved child.
Richie already had an explanation planned. "I'm a martial arts expert," he explained. "These are my tools." He picked up a quarterstaff (one of the least threatening things in his arsenal), tossed it to Alex, who caught it, even though he was surprised. "If you want, Alex, I can teach you some stuff," he offered. Maybe I won't have to protect him all the time that way....
Alex swung the quarterstaff experimentally. His eyes were wide. "I think I'd like to learn," Alex said determinedly.
Richie had a flash of what Alex's life must have been up until then. Too pretty for his own good, he'd been beaten on by all the boys, and pitied and coddled by all the females. Enough to drive any self-respecting male to thoughts of suicide.
"It's not that hard," Richie said encouragingly. "In fact, if we go to the Gym tonight, I can teach you some of the basics of self-defense."
Alex nodded, then turned towards the door. "I'm going to go get my stuff," he said.
Kyle left with his son, leaving only Dana with MacLeod and Richie. MacLeod was now absorbed in something else (ironing underwear?) Richie thought, incredulously. "I'll keep an eye on him," he reassured Dana.
Dana's eyes softened. "Thanks," she whispered. Then she straightened her spine. "If anything happens to him, it's on YOUR head," she said.
Richie laughed. "No one messes with my buds and gets away with it," he said.
********************
"The way to love anything is to realize it might be lost."
-G. K. Chesterton
********************
MacLeod looked at Richie. "I guess it's time for me to go."
Richie nodded, once again feeling a pang. Every time he and Duncan said farewell to each other, it as more and more possible that it was the last time.
"I'll write," Richie promised.
"Of course you will," MacLeod laughed, having already seen Richie's idea of "correspondence". A postcard with a message like "I'm fine" scrawled on it. Then MacLeod's face grew serious. "You'll do well enough," he reassured Richie. "You're a bright kid."
The problem with being so fair, Richie thought, is that your skin blushes so easily. "Thanks, Mac," he said.
Duncan reached out and hugged Richie. "See you in a couple of months," he said. He started to walk towards the car where Joe and Methos were waiting.
Richie watched him leave. As the car drew out of sight, Richie turned away, back towards his dorm, and towards his new life.
THE END