Disclaimer: I own nothing, Xmen and Highlander belong to others, I simply play with them occasionally.

Written for the LJ Highlander50 prompt Friend

A/N: This is a crossover with X-Men, but not so that it will confuse anyone who isn't a fan. As long as you have seen at least one film or know who Logan/Wolverine is and what his mutant abilities are then you'll be fine.

A/N2:Alright, I put my hands up, this one is paddling in the warm waters of Denial. I'm not normally one to do this, much as I miss Rich, but the muses demanded that I make him older for this because the young Rich would be too hot headed in this situation. My only defence is it's a crossover so it is an AU. Make up whatever you like to replace Archangel, I'm sure most of you can think of something far more imaginative than I can. ;p

Anyway, this is set sort of now, just after the events of X2, which would make Richie 32/3 in real age.

The version of Logan I'm basing this on is partly the movie version because my pup is Hugh Jackman shaped and partly on the Origin backstory. If any fangirls/boys out there don't like it, sorry but hard cheese because that's the Logan in my head. :p

Superheroes

Richie looked up from the engine he was working on as he heard the roar of the approaching hog. He smiled broadly when he saw the helmet-less rider and stood up to greet him. "Logan! My man! How are you doing?" He walked toward the bike and held out his hand. Logan took the stoagie out of his mouth and used his free hand to firmly shake Richie's, smiling as he did.

"Hey there Rich. Still messing around with bikes I see. One of these days that'll get you killed." Richie smiled at the irony.

"Not before you my man." Richie finished the well-worn dialogue that the two had always said when they met up. Logan got off his bike and the two of them headed into Richie's house. "Welcome to chez Ryan. Bienvenue au chez Ryan." Logan raised his eyebrow and looked at Richie.

"Since when do you speak French kid?"

"I lived in Paris for a while, didn't I tell you? And less of the kid, I'm thirty two."

"Sorry, but you still look nineteen. You've filled out a bit, working out are you? But still basically you look like a kid." This hit a nerve with Richie, who still had a bit of a chip on his shoulder about his physical age.

"Yeah? Well what about you? I haven't seen you in about ten years and you look like you haven't aged a day." He snapped back.

"Hey, sorry." Logan said raising his hands, "Look shall I go out and we can start again?"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm just sick of being called a kid. I'm really glad you're here. So what made you decide to come visit after all these years?" He gestured for Logan to make himself comfortable on the couch and went into the kitchen, quickly returning with a couple of cold beers and sitting down, passing one to Logan who gratefully took it.

"No particular reason. I've been hanging around with some people, made me reassess what's important, think about the past. So I thought I would look up some old friends. When I saw how well you were doing, I figured I'd come see you, find out what triggered that change."

"Well, that's easy. It was Mac and Tessa. They took me in about fifteen years ago and they helped me realise I could be more than a thief." Richie looked up as he felt the approach of another Immortal, "Speak of the devil." He grinned. Logan looked puzzled momentarily, but then there was a knock at the door. Richie went over and opened it, letting in Duncan. "Great timing Mac! Are your ears burning? We were just talking about you."

"We?" Duncan asked. Logan stood up and turned to the newcomer.

"Yeah, Duncan MacLeod, I'd like you to meet a really old friend of mine…"

"Logan." Duncan said coldly. Richie looked between the two of them, confused slightly. "We've met." He said in explanation.

"Sorry, bub, you must have me confused with someone else."

"No, I don't." Mac produced his sword from his coat and held it against Logan's neck. Instinctively, Logan growled and his claws popped out with a quiet snikt. Richie stepped between them and held them apart. Too focussed on the sword, he hadn't noticed the claws.

"Mac? What the hell are you doing? He isn't one of us." Logan was confused, what did he mean by that?

"No but he isn't human. I met him in Canada one hundred years ago Rich, and again in Japan just before the Second World War. He's an assassin, an animal. Look at his hands." Richie looked down and gasped, taking a step backward. Realising the problem, Logan willed the claws to retract and took a step backwards, his hands raised in a placatory gesture.

"Look, bub, I'm sorry, but I don't remember much of anything beyond about seventeen years ago. But how can I…you…we be a hundred years old? The professor said I'm older than I look but that's just ridiculous." Duncan could see honesty in Logan's eyes, he really didn't remember their previous encounters. But he knew what an animal Logan could be so, although he lowered his sword, he didn't sit down. Richie did sit, but more from shock than anything else. "Richie, what did you mean, one of us?" Logan asked, slowly sitting down again. Richie looked to Duncan, who shrugged.

"Maybe the truth will help him remember his past." Richie suggested.

"Maybe some things are better left forgotten." Duncan replied. "But I guess my actions require some explanation, and I've said too much now. Logan, Richie and I are part of a group of people known as Immortals. We are human, and we live like other humans unless we meet a violent death. After that death we cease to age, we don't get sick and we heal from almost any wounds, even fatal ones." To demonstrate, Richie picked up a knife from the table and performed the standard 'slash the palm' shtick, which healed in a matter of seconds.

"So?" Logan asked, "I can do that too, although the little flashes of lightning are new." He picked up the knife and cut his hand as Richie had done, and his too healed. "But I ain't Immortal. I'm a mutant." Sudden understanding lit up across Richie and Duncan's faces.

"We knew you weren't Immortal," Richie explained, "because we can sense when another is nearby."

"Handy." Logan grunted.

"More than you know." Duncan said darkly, "But I thought mutants were a recent evolution of mankind, and I know that I met you over a hundred years ago."

"Really?" Logan said, hopefully, "I really can't remember anything, I don't have a clue how old I am."

"Well, you must be at least a hundred and twenty I'd say, you were a young man when I met you."

1903 CE

British Colombia

Duncan trudged through the snow as he steadily climbed the hill. He would reach the plateau he could see in an hour or so and then he would make camp for the night. He had been walking for three days now, having been forced to shoot his horse after it was left lame from a fall crossing a frozen river. His journey to Alberta would have taken him another week,, now he wasn't sure when he'd make it. If he'd been mortal, the question would have been if, not when.

He suddenly became aware he was being watched. His tracker senses picked up the pack, following him in the periphery of his vision. He would not want to camp here tonight, not unless he wanted a fight. But he knew that sooner or later he would drop from hunger and fatigue, and if the pack hadn't given up then they would make a meal of him and that would mean a long and painful recovery.

He stopped in his tracks, pretending to have dropped his knapsack, but in reality wanting the pack to get a little ahead of him so he could assess their number. He counted at least half a dozen. He would only get a couple of rounds from his rifle before they were on top of him. Instead he drew his sword.

Knowing they were detected, the pack attacked. They charged him down from all directions, starvation making them desperate. The alpha male hung back in the shadows, hoping not to be involved with this kill. He did not relish the killing of this meat as much as he did the stag or other game. But the pack had underestimated the prey. He had a weapon, and more strength than they had thought. He was killing the pack and the alpha had to act before they were all killed. With a guttural growl he charged into the fray.

Duncan barely had time to react, he swung his sword round in an arc, cutting the attacker across the stomach. With the loss of the alpha, the other wolves decided that this meal wasn't worth the effort and slunk a hasty retreat. Safe, Duncan looked down and saw that his last assailant hadn't been a wolf at all, but a man.

Barely a man, still really a child, but a feral child running with a pack of wolves. Duncan couldn't understand why the child hadn't been killed by the wolves or why he hadn't died from the cold. He rolled him over to get a better look at him, and saw that the wound from his sword was gone. Puzzled, Duncan leaned closer to examine the boy more carefully.

The boy's eyes snapped open and he shot out a hand toward Duncan. Before Duncan could react, he was aware of a flash of intense pain in his chest and then there was no more.

The alpha ran off to rejoin his pack and inform them of the kill. They would eat well tonight.

Logan stared at Duncan as he recounted the meeting.

"And you're sure it was me?" Duncan nodded.

"Another trait we Immortals share is perfect recall. Once we've seen a face, we never forget it."

"I can't believe this. I mean, I knew I had…animal tendencies, a violent temper, but nothing like this. I was really running with a pack of wolves?"

"From the way they acted, I'd say you weren't just running with them, I'd say you were the alpha male." Logan shook his head in disbelief. He stood up.

"I'm sorry Rich, but I'm going to have to go. There's someone I need to discuss this with. I need to go back to Westchester."

"But what about the other time you and Mac met? Don't you want to know about that?" Richie asked. Logan regarded Duncan for a moment before answering.

"No Rich, I think your friend is right. Some things are better left forgotten."

A/N: The title is a reference to the song from the Rocky Horror Picture Show, the second verse of which is:

And Superheroes/

Come to feast/

To taste the flesh/

Not yet deceased/

And all I know/

Is still the beast is feeding.