BY DANIELLE DUCREST

Disclaimers: Highlander: The Series is owned and produced by Davis/Panzer Productions and Rysher Entertainment. Harold Ritz and Theodore Madison are my own.

Time Cop: The Series is property of __________.

Storyline: In 2010, MacCleod challenges an evil immortal to fight and wins. The loosing immortals’ friend and student, Harry Ritz, finds out who the murderer is, and goes back in time to kill Duncan before he can kill his teacher. The Time Cop, _______, discovers Ritz is changing history, and he goes back in time to stop him. The year is 1999. Back then, the time cop comes across a Le Blues Bar, and discovers MacCleod there. In the past, the time cop is witness to MacCleod being shot, and got there just in time to stop Ritz from beheading him. Ritz fled into the future again, and believing MacCleod to be dead, the time cop can do nothing back go back to 2010 and report. Later that night, he visits Le Blues Bar, and discovers Duncan MacCleod there. Ritz is after him again in the future after failing in the past, and the time cop finds himself in the middle again. Will Duncan explain his immortality to him?

Duncan MacCleod entered the bar’s front door to find his friend, Joe Dawson, serving drinks. The old watcher still acted as a proprietor at Le Blues Bar after all these years. MacCleod had tried to convince him to retire from the beer business and the watcher business on many occasions, but Joe could be very stubborn sometimes. He claimed he wasn’t even close to retiring. Mac only shook his head and walked over.

The room was crowded with the bar’s normal customers, and the live music from the stage filled the room. Everyone had to shout to be heard over the music, but no one seemed to mind. Duncan sat on a stool and waited for his friend to approach.

"Hey, Joe," he said, trying to sound cheerful. But it was hard when you had terrible news to give.

"Hey, Mac." Joe said, just as cheerfully. "Your usual?" Duncan nodded, and Joe produced the drink. He waited until his friend had drank it, then asked, "Did you know Madison’s in town?"

"Yes, I did." It didn’t surprise Duncan that Joe knew immortal Theodore Madison. He was known to the world as a serial killer. Every decade, he kills another line of mortals. Each time, it was for different reasons, and the killing was done different ways. Madison had done this for the last fifty years. Duncan had tried to find him before, but Madison was able to get away each time. Not even the watchers knew where his hideaway was. "I’ve challenged him. We’re going to meet tonight."

Joe said nothing. He knew this might be the last time he’d ever see his immortal friend. It was like that every time. Mac had managed to stay alive this long. But Madison was very good, and Joe knew he had a few tricks even Mac hadn’t seen before.

When MacCleod got up to leave later that evening, Joe wished him good luck. Mac left without a word and proceeded to the place they’d agreed on. It was in a park area, surrounded by stone statues and grass. Madison wasn’t anywhere in sight. Duncan looked at his watch. 11:50. They’d agreed to meet at midnight. Duncan had a ten minute wait. He sat on a park bench and stared at his surroundings. It was actually quite peaceful. If it were any other time, Mac thought he might have appreciated it. But not tonight. There had been a time when he and Madison were friends. That seemed so long ago, and really, it was. He sighed. If only there wasn't a game, then he wouldn't have to kill Madison. But that would have only happened if Madison wasn't a murderer.

After what seemed to be an eternity, a dark vehicle pulled onto the sidewalk beyond the trees that surrounded the park. Out stepped a lone figure. The dark form made its way to MacCleod who was a ways off in the park. When he felt the buzz, Duncan stood and waited. The dark figure approached him, removing a long, metal object from his coat. Duncan did the same and stepped up to greet the other man.

"Theodore Madison." Duncan said, as if to confirm it was really him.

"Duncan MacCleod," the other man answered, hatred clearly shown in his voice. Mac recognized it as Madison’s, and raised his sword, signaling the battle to begin.

Duncan had won. It was a long and ferocious battle, but he won in the end. The quickening had been strong, and he slept the entire day after that. He then proceeded to Joe’s, and a few hours later, Joe, Mac, Amanda, and Methos were all in his barge, celebrating.

But, currently on another continent, a man known as Harold Ritz, born in 1852, was screaming in rage. Theodore Madison, his teacher, his friend, was dead. And the one to blame for it was MacCleod.

Ritz was standing alone in the darkness of his apartment, smashing things every few minutes. After every kick and punch, he sat down in cried, then got up to kick and break a few more things. He had the television on to drown out the noise, but he was sure his neighbors could hear anyway. He didn’t care. He had known Ted for ninety years. He had taught him everything Ritz knew. Ritz had known Ted before he had started the serial killings. He knew the reason why Ted killed mortals, knew the reason why he had mistrusted them every single day of his life. Everyone he had trusted had betrayed him. His lovers, his friends. Everyone except Ritz. Ritz had never betrayed him.

He wouldn't start now. He had to make it up to his friend. But he didn't know how. MacCleod was stronger than he was. He always had been.

No, he hadn't. Ritz stopped throwing things around and sat down. After he turned off the tv, he was able to think a little clearer. How long ago had it been? About ten years… no, eleven. Almost ten, though. It was 1999. Ted had met MacCleod then. Ted had told him about it afterwards. He was killing mortals at the time. Ted had said it was a cold winter's day…

Mac had just stepped into the empty bar when he was hustled into his friend's office by his friend himself, Joe. When the door had shut behind him, MacCleod wasted no time in asking, "Joe, what is it?"

Joe replied by saying, "You know who Theodore Madison is?" Joe knew the immortal did, but he asked anyway. It said in the chronicles they had met in 1703, Spain.

As he expected, Duncan MacCleod nodded. "Yes, I know him."

"Well, take a look at this," Joe Dawson handed him a paper with a photocopied newspaper clip. Three killings in the Eiffel Tower, it read. Beside the article was a picture of three bodies, all men, lying on the ground. They had been stabbed in the chest.

MacCleod looked up at Joe. "What does this have to do with Ted?"

"We think Ted killed them." Joe said.

MacCleod looked up him, eyes wide with disbelief. "No, it couldn't be him."

"It is, Mac."

"Ted wouldn't hurt a fly! He wouldn't even think to kill innocent men."

"I'm afraid it's worse." Joe picked up other photocopied articles and handed them to him. All three were of killings of up to ten people each. They were dated 1969, 1979, and 1989. In 1969, ten people had been found in a back alley. All of them seemed to be businessmen and women, and were given poison. In 1979, ten Chinese tourists were found floating in a river in the United States after being shot. In 1989, ten local construction workers were found, all with broken necks.

Mac shuddered. Who would do such a thing? He looked up at Joe again. "You think Ted did this?"

"We don't think, we know." Joe said. "Everytime a murder is about to occur, Madison comes out of hiding. When ten people are dead, we loose him again. We would have had him arrested, because this isn't part of the game, but he seemed to be able to hide everywhere. One watcher was able to follow him for a few blocks, but when he turned a corner, Madison was gone." Joe produced pictures taken of Madison for Duncan to look at.

"What drove him to do such a thing?" MacCleod asked.

"We don't know." Joe sat down. "It had to happen sometime from 1965-69, because that was the first time we lost track of him."

MacCleod thought about this for a moment. Madison always had mistrusted mortals. But Duncan never thought he would do such a thing. Now he knew he was wrong. He walked a few steps closer to Joe. "Where is he?"

"He was last seen on Napoleon Street a minutes ago."

"Then he couldn't have gotten far." MacCleod strolled out of the office and out the door.

He headed straight to Napoleon Street, but felt nothing. He walked along the crowded sidewalks, glancing around at stores and restaurants as he passed them, but he still found nothing.

Duncan was about to give up when he did feel it. It was the unmistakable feeling of another of his kind. Walking down an alley located between a museum and office building, he drew out his katana. He turned the corner of the office building on the left and was about to walk down the alley behind it a sword appeared out of the darkness. It swung down at him, but MacCleod blocked with his katana just in time. When the sword withdrew, MacCleod stood and walked a few feet back, allowing his rival enough space to step out. It was Madison.

"Duncan?" he said, startled. His face changed into a smile. "So good to see you. How long has it been? Almost three hundred years?"

"Almost." MacCleod said, keeping his sword raised.

"Why, Duncan." Madison said, trying to take a step forward. Duncan stepped back. "Why do you greet a friend in such a manner? We have not seen each other for centuries. We have much catching up to do."

Mac shook his head. "I don't hold private conversations with murderers."

"Ah, so you know of my work." Madison said, smiling. "What does it matter, Duncan? They were all going to die eventually anyway. I might as well save them from all that suffering by giving them a much quicker death."

"We both know that's not why you killed them." MacCleod said. "It's because your whole village tried to kill you by burning you to death, convinced you were a witch of some kind."

"Yes. That is the one reason." Madison said, his hatred for that village from long ago shining in his eyes. "But not the main one."

"Then what is the main reason?"

"I will tell you only because you were once my friend, Duncan." So Madison began his story. "Please, I wish you no harm. If I am to tell you of this, you must lower your weapon."

MacCleod kept it raised, cautious. But after he realized Madison had lowered his own, he lowered his, and listened while Madison began his story.

"It was the September of 1967, and I fell in love." Madison said, his eyes filled with joy and sadness. "She was a beautiful woman, filled with innocence and youth. But, all too soon, that innocence ended, and she became a woman. It happened after I had told her what I was a few months after we met. After that, she was convinced I was a monster. She tried to kill me several times, and ran after each time. I tried to seek her out, but she would not listen. But, after our last meeting, she was run over by a car. I was so torn between grief and anger for being betrayed in love, I went mad. But I found refuge in killing. I want my revenge on all the mortal savages in the world. Every one of them are savages. EVERY ONE!"

MacCleod raised his sword again. He knew now that the man who stood before him was not the man he once knew. And he knew he couldn't trust Madison anymore. "I can not allow that to happen, Ted."

Madison looked back at him, eyes wide. But their expression changed very soon. His trust in MacCleod was immediately replaced by anger, and the gentleman in him was gone. He raised his sword to MacCleod as well. "Very well, MacCleod. I should have known better than to trust you. It seems as though everyone, even my closest friends, have always been my enemies." Madison attacked, and MacCleod blocked. He swung at MacCleod's head; MacCleod ducked. Madison aimed at the Highlander's waist, the other blocked again. The sound of metal against metal could be heard against the alley's walls, magnifying its sound to a greater extent. The fight continued. The immortals were so caught up in the fight they did not know people on the nearby street had called the police because of the sound. They were also oblivious to the noise of a French Police car as it made its way through the streets of Paris, until it parked on the side of the street. Both stopped fighting, and the two immortals disappeared into the shadows, MacCleod running down the right alley behind the museum, and Madison running down the left alley behind the office building. When Mac had reached the end of the alley and found himself on another crowded street of Paris, He looked back to the scene, now a good many yards away. Both Madison and MacCleod had spilled some blood during the fight, and the police were probably investigating that now. He looked past the police officers to the alley Madison had fled to. He could see nothing amongst the shadows. Until we meet again, Theodore Madison, he thought.

On the other end of the alley, Madison was thinking the same thing. Until we meet again, Duncan MacCleod.

When Madison had told Ritz what had happened, he swore that MacCleod had been loosing. If the police hadn't interrupted, Duncan MacCleod of the Clan MacCleod would be dead. But in the eleven years before they did meet again, something had happened. No doubt MacCleod had received a strong quickening. It didn't matter to Ritz. All that he cared about was Duncan MacCleod was once weak. He knew he probably stood a chance of beating him. Madison had been his teacher, after all, and Ted had taught him most of his tricks. Now all Ritz had to do was find a way of getting to 1999, and he knew how to do just that.

He stood up from the couch, picked up the phone on the table nearby, and called the San Francisco airport. When a cheerful sounding woman answered it, he said, "One ticket to Paris, please."

When Harry Ritz arrived at the Paris airport, he immediately left the building and collected the rental car he'd asked for before he left San Francisco. Then he drove out to the estate that he owned. On it was his mansion. He hadn't been there ever since time traveling was made illegal, because it was where he kept his time machine.

His neighbors lived up the road in another mansion. The last time he was here, many people went to and from it everyday. It was the same even now. Ritz found himself stuck between many other cars on the two-lane road. Eager to get to his mansion, he wished they would hurry up. After what seemed like twenty minutes, Ritz was able to pull up the drive. He gave a sigh of relief, glad to be out of the jam.

Ritz may not have known his neighbors, but they certainly new him. The woman in the car behind him on the road gasped when she realized it was Ritz who pulled onto the side road that led to his mansion. She knew she had to tell headquarters, which was exactly where she was headed, along with the rest of the long line of cars. When she finally parked in the lot and was through the front door, she almost ran to the office of her commander-in-chief, Joe Dawson. She found him sitting behind his desk, taking a phone call. When she entered, he hung up and motioned her to sit down.

"Hi, Carol." Joe said. "What is it?"

"Harry Ritz, sir." Carol said, still standing. "I saw him head up the drive of the mansion nearby."

Joe eyes grew wide. The watchers hadn't known where Ritz was for the last five months. "Find his watcher. Tell him to come here immediately."

"Yes, sir." Carol left the office, heading down the hall to the lounge. She knew Ritz's watcher, John Harolds, would be there. He always got a cup of coffee every morning before he began work, and lately that work was to find Ritz. Carol couldn't wait to tell him the good news.

Just as she had predicted, Carol found John on the couch in the lounge, sipping his coffee. He looked up when she entered and said. "Hey, Carol. You're bursting with energy this morning."

"I found Ritz," were the first words that escaped Carol's mouth. "He’s up the road in his mansion."

John stood up, excitement now showing in his eyes. "Does Dawson want to see me?"

Carol nodded, and both raced back down the hall to Joe’s office. When they entered, they found Joe sorting through a file. On the front of the folder was typed Harold Jean Ritz. He pulled out a sheet and handed it to John. "Look at this."

Carol and John looked at it. It had a Time Cop report on it, of a certain Harry Ritz traveling illegally through time a few years ago. It also said that the location of the time machine was somewhere in Northern France. Both looked up at Joe. John spoke first. "Do you think he’s going to time travel again?"

"Maybe." Joe said. "Any clues as to why he would do such a thing?"

John thought. "He was good friends with Theodore Madison."

"You think he may have gone back because of Madison? Why?" Carol asked.

Joe looked at John, who shook his head. "I don’t know. But Madison was killed recently. Perhaps he’s going back to stop him from dying."

"Or to stop MacLeod." Joe said. He walked around his desk and picked up the phone. "Carol. I want you to get on-line and try to hack into his system and see what he’s up to. If he isn’t on, there’s nothing to worry about. But if he is, try to stop him as best you can."

"Yes, sir." Carol turned and left, handing down the hall to the mansion’s computer room. Joe turned to John. "John, I want you to do your job. I need you to watch."

As Max Walker sat down at his desk at T.E.C. Headquarters, he was immediately ushered into his chief’s office.

"Hey, _____" Walker said. "What's up?"

"Where have you been, Max?" _______ asked, raising his voice. "We've been trying to call you for the last forty minutes!"

"Hey, I was on my way here. Sorry I missed the call, okay? Mind telling me what the problem is?"