The concept of the Highlander universe and the character of Duncan MacLeod were created by someone else. They belong to someone else. Actually, they belong to a bunch of people - Gregory Widen, Peter Davis, William Panzer, the folks at Gaumont, and those at Rysher Entertainment, as well. They do not belong to me, and I'm borrowing them without permission. Because Highlander-The Series is my favorite TV show, and because this story has been written out of love with no hope of monetary gain - I hope they'll forgive the transgression.

This story is mine as are characters of Dallas Delany, Sukhe Khan and various minor players - so please don't take them anywhere without letting me know. I hope you enjoy the story and if you do, I'd love to hear your comments.


A Splash of Color - Chapter 5

The rasp of metal on ceramic and an occasional thump drew Duncan back to reality. He wasn't sure where his mind had wandered, but it wasn't focused on dinner, that's for sure. He looked up from his half full plate to locate the source of the sound.

At the opposite end of the table, Richie piled more noodles on his plate using a large spoon like a front end loader, while Dallas sat drawing listless circles around a small mound of carrots with her fork. The harsh sound set his teeth on edge.

"Why don't you eat those carrots instead of playing with them?" he asked.

Dallas let a long sigh escape, then she lifted one corner of her mouth into a grimace of disgust. "I don't really like carrots," she said.

"Carrots are good for you," Richie volunteered as he speared two more pieces of pot roast with his fork.

Duncan suppressed a smile and lifted an eyebrow. There wasn't the slightest indication that any carrot had made even a cameo appearance on Richie's plate.

"Then you eat them," Dallas said, pushing her plate in his direction.

Duncan struggled with the bubble of laughter that rose up in his throat. Watching Richie try to play the parent with a child, who clearly had his number, was the most fun he'd had in quite a while.

Richie molded his face into what may have passed for a stern look, if Duncan hadn't known better. "If you want any of those cookies," Richie said, wagging his finger. "You have to finish your carrots. Only members of the Clean Plate Club get cookies."

The bubble of laughter erupted in a snort, and Duncan tried to wash it down with a mouthful of wine. "The Clean Plate Club?" he gasped when he had recovered enough breath to talk.

Richie straightened his shoulders, then pinned Duncan with a glare of frustration. "Yeah, you only get to be a member if you eat all your dinner. One of my foster mother's taught me that."

Dallas frowned. "What's a foster mother?" she asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject and the focus of Richie's attention.

"It's someone who's paid to take care of kids who don't have parents of their own."

Dallas tucked her head down, so Duncan could no longer see her face. "Like me?" she asked in a small voice.

"Now you've done it," Duncan mouthed across the length of the table.

Richie didn't meet his gaze as he stood. He crouched down beside Dallas and took her hand. "Hey, Shortstuff," he said, gently. "That's something we have in common."

Dallas lifted her head. "Did your mom die too?" she asked.

Richie tucked her hair behind her ear as he shook his head. "I never had a mother ... or a father."

"Well," Dallas said, slowly. "She wasn't my actual mother, you know. Jake said Immortals don't have parents like mortals, but he said adopted ones are better 'cause they pick you instead of getting stuck with you."

"I guess they are," Richie said, chuckling at her frank explanation, "but no one ever adopted me."

"Oh," she said, gazing at him with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity.

"Now why don't you finish those carrots," he said, as he stood. "Then we can all have cookies."

"Okay," Dallas said, rolling her eyes. She picked up the fork, then shoveled the whole pile of carrots into her mouth without chewing them. Her cheeks bulged like those of a squirrel who's just dug up a nut stash. She guzzled three-quarters of a glass of milk, then swallowed the whole mess in one gulp. A milk mustache trimmed her upper lip as she grinned.

Duncan could do nothing but stare in amazement.

She slid off the chair, then bolted for the kitchen, but Richie snagged her arm as she rounded his chair. "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, nodding at her now empty plate.

She squirmed in his grasp for a moment, then let out a long sigh of exasperation, but she returned to her place and picked up her plate. Carrying it to the kitchen, she edged just out of Richie's reach. "Happy, now?" she asked, her voice ripe with sarcasm.

"Very," he replied with a grin.

She returned to the dining room a few minutes later, bearing the plate of cookies with a regal air. Remembering her manners, she stopped in front of Richie and held the plate out to offer him first choice. He took two, then she turned to walk down to Duncan's end of the table. She eyed the food remaining on his plate and shook her head. "No cookies for you," she said. "You didn't finish your dinner."

"I'm not very hungry," he said.

"No dessert until you finish your dinner," she scolded, then she set the plate on the table beyond Duncan's reach.

As she took a cookie for herself, she glanced to the corner. Still smiling at the lecture he had just received, Duncan turned to see what had caught her interest. He watched as she walked slowly over to the box of Christmas ornaments. She stood before it, while she nibbled on her cookie. He opened his mouth to tell her she was dropping crumbs on the carpet, but downward slope of her shoulders stopped him. She sighed.

"We were going to get a real tree this year," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She stooped down and picked up an ornament - the clear crystal one with the dangling gold spangle in the center. She held it up to the light as he had done earlier, then she tucked the last bit of cookie into her mouth and tapped the ornament with one finger. Mesmerized by the swaying spangle, her eyes glazed as she stared at it.

"Mommy said real trees made too much of a mess, so we always had a fake one. But Jake said we could get a real one this year." She lowered the ornament and set it back in the box, giving it a loving pat before she withdrew her hand.

When she sniffled, Duncan reached out to hug her, but she backed away. "Last year ... me and Jake--" she said, dipping her head. He could no longer see her face, but the quaver in her voice tore at his heart. "We just ... didn't ... feel like having a tree."

Her last words dropped into the silence like a stone into a deep well. Without reaching for her, Duncan opened his arms. He motioned to her with a wag of his fingers. "Come here," he said, softly. She stepped into his arms and rested her head on his chest.

Her shoulders trembled as he ran his hands over her back in soothing circles. She sighed, then was still.

"Hey, Mac ... we could," Richie said, his voice loud against the faint ticking of the grandfather clock that stood in the corner.

No ... they couldn't. It was too much to ask. Duncan kissed the top of Dallas's head, then he pulled her into his lap. "No, Richie," he said. "We can't."

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Yes, I do," he insisted. "We're only going to be here long enough to take care of the details. We don't have time."

"But Mac ... Christmas is only a few days away. How much time could it take?"

"We'll talk about it later," he said, deliberately taking care to enunciate each word.

Dallas slid off his lap, then headed for the plate of cookies again. Richie glared at him, for a moment, then he stood. Looking down at Dallas, he grinned.

"Hey, Shortstuff ... why don't you and I go see if we can find Carmen Miranda."

Dallas shook her head and she flashed a quick glance at Duncan that clearly said, See what I have to put up with! "It's Carmen Sandiego, silly," she said, with a sigh. "And I'm not short ... I'm just not grown yet."

Richie chuckled as he squeezed her shoulder. "That doesn't sound nearly as catchy as Shortstuff," he said, pushing her before him as they left Duncan alone with his gloomy thoughts and his half eaten dinner.