From tarmstng@cachenet.comFri Aug 4 23:03:00 1995 Date: Sat, 05 Aug 95 02:42:51 0600 From: TIm Armstrong To: krobb@nudge.io.org Subject: (no subject) This story copyright 1995 by the authors. Permission to distribute freely is given, provided you do not attempt to sell it. 3The X-Filesý is a trademark of Fox Television, characters not used by permission. 3Highlanderý is a trademark of Rysher Entertainment, characters not used by permission. 3Star Trek: The Next Generationý is a trademark of Paramount, Inc., characters not used by permission. (Whew! That1s a lot of disclaiming!) 3In the Darký was written during the summer of 1995, between Season 2 & 3 of The X-Files, and Seasons 3 & 4 of Highlander. Anything which occurs in future episodes of these programs may substantially impact the continuity of this story, unfortunately, there1s not a thing we can do about it. HOWEVER, we are quite willing to produce scripts in order to maintain said continuity! ;-> As always, comments are welcome. NOTE: This is a story in two parts... or perhaps more properly it is two stories connected by a couple of common threads. After we finished it and ran it through our 3beta testý audience, we had several comments on the difference in pacing between the two sections. We scratched our heads and thought about what the problem might be, until we realized that there was no problem, there was just a difference. The major drawback to writing crossovers isn1t meshing universes, that1s fairly simple. The hard part is blending styles. X-Files, for example, is heavily plot-driven. TNG, on the other hand, was often completely character-driven, with plot taking a backseat. Neither is better or worse by definition, merely different. At any rate, we feel that we1ve succeeded in dealing with those differences and hope that you do as well. Kellie Matthews-Simmons // matthewk@colorado.edu Julia Kosatka // julia@bayou.uh.edu ================================== In the Dark 1/14 In The Dark, Part I c. 1995 Kellie Matthews-Simmons & Julia Kosatka Joe Dawson wiped the long wooden surface of the bar, trying unobtrusively to observe the woman who had come in with the sax player. She was a black woman of moderate height and curvaceous build, not stunningly beautiful, but rather compelling in a way. She wore her hair in a myriad of long, narrow braids that were too neat to be dreadlocks. Her voice was low and throaty, and held a mischievous tone. When she laughed it was full-bodied and without reservation. She looked to be in her early thirties, but he knew from long experience that looks could be deceiving. The maddening thing was that he recognized her... almost. He knew he1d seen her somewhere before, but he couldn1t for the life of him remember where. Almost as if she sensed his gaze, she turned and looked at him, then stood and walked toward the counter. He let his gaze range past her to the band and didn1t return his attention to her until she was leaning against the bar. 3Can I help you?ý he asked, businesslike. 3Would I be here if you couldn1t?ý she queried in an amused voice. 3What can you make me that I1ve never had before?ý He focused on her more fully. 3Now that1s an interesting question.ý Her generous mouth curved in a Mona-Lisa smile. 3I like to challenge my bartenders.ý 3I1d say so.ý Joe surveyed his stock of liquor critically, then snapped his fingers. 3Got it! How high is your tolerance for alcohol?ý 3Higher than yours, I1d wager.ý He chuckled. 3You1d be right, I1m a cheap drunk. Have you got someone who can drive you home, just in case?ý 3I do.ý 3Good.ý Taking a selection of little-used bottles from the back of the bar and some more common ones from the front, he proceeded to create a drink he hadn1t made in twenty years. It took two tries, and nearly fifteen minutes before he got it right. Finally, he turned and set the glass in front of her. She studied it carefully, checking off each layer from bottom to top. Red, orange, yellow, green, a dark blue, then a layer that was almost violet; she looked up, one almost non-existent eyebrow raised. 3Impressive. What1s it called?ý 3That, my friend, is a `Killer Rainbow.1ý 3Appropriate name, but is it drinkable?ý 3I1ll let you be the judge of that.ý 3Am I supposed to mix them together?ý He shook his head and handed her a thin straw. 3Nope. Your job is to try to get the straw into the glass without disturbing the layers, and then to drink it one layer at a time.ý She took the straw, and stood for a moment, obviously analyzing the best route to take. Finally she put the straw into the first layer, slowly easing it down until the end of the straw rested against the bottom of the glass. She looked up, triumphantly. He smiled encouragingly, and she settled herself onto a barstool and leaned over the counter, elbows resting on either side of the glass, looking for all the world like a kid at a soda fountain. She steadied the straw in her fingers, and started to drink. The bottom layer slowly disappeared, then she stopped to catch her breath. Joe waited a moment, then spoke. 3Now you have to tell me what1s in each layer.ý 3Whaaat?ý She sputtered indignantly. 3Now, wait just a minute, that wasn1t part of the deal!ý 3If you can tell me what1s in it, it1s free,ý Joe said, coaxingly. That seemed to mollify her. She sat back, studied the drink, and nodded. 3Okay, you1re on! The red layer was cherry heering.ý 3Very good. Go on, but no looking at the bottles!ý She leaned forward and drew on the straw again until the next layer had disappeared. 3Hmmm... could be Grand Marnier, but I don1t think so... it1s too dark... I know! Mandarin Napoleon!ý 3You1re two for two. Keep going.ý She worked her way through Benedictine and Midori, got hung up for a few minutes on the Blue Curacao, only to be completely baffled by the last layer. 3Mister, I thought I knew every liqueur on the planet, but I gotta admit, this one1s got me stumped The damned stuff tastes like flowers smell. How much do I owe you?ý 3It1s Joe.ý She looked puzzled. 3The purple stuff is called joe?ý He chuckled. 3No, I1m Joe, Joe Dawson, not `mister.1ý He held out his hand. She shook it firmly, without hesitation. 3Guinan.ý He waited a moment, but when no second name was forthcoming, he nodded. 3Nice to meet you, Guinan. Now, I guess I should fess up that this wasn1t an entirely fair contest.ý 3Oh? Why is that?ý 3Because, you wouldn1t know that last one unless you were friends with a friend of mine. He has it specially made from an old family recipe, and the only reason I have it here at all is because he occasionally likes a shot. It1s called Violette, and he swears it really is made from violets. And the drink is on the house, I haven1t had this much fun in ages.ý Guinan looked at him skeptically, one corner of her mouth lifting in a quirky smile. 3You should get out more.ý Joe laughed out loud, and nodded. 3Touche!ý Guinan looked over her shoulder suddenly, and stood up. 3Danny1s looking for me. I1ll catch you later.ý 3I hope so.ý Joe said, with utter sincerity. As she walked away, he wondered again why she was so damned familiar. It was going to drive him crazy until he remembered. He watched her rejoin her musician friend, and was surprised a moment later when she ascended the stage with them. The band launched into 3My Funny Valentineý and she began to sing, her voice warm and intimate, doing a more than creditable job on the song. She was clearly untrained, but her style suited the song and the band. He let his relief bartender take over and settled down at one of the tables to listen, feeling a bit relieved as he realized that was probably why she seemed familiar. He must have seen or heard of her before. **** 3Beautiful, isn1t it? It shines like a living thing.ý 3Beautiful.ý 3But deadly, as well.ý 3I< know.ý 3Are you enjoying that?ý 3Enjoy? No! How could I? You never said I had to!ý 3It1s not necessary, but it adds a certain... something.ý 3I can1t believe they never told us it was possible!ý 3They were afraid that if they told you, too many would seize the chance. Better to let you think we are born, not made.ý 3But they shouldn1t have kept it from us. It1s not fair that some know, and others don1t!ý 3Why do you think I came to you? I felt you should know.ý 3Thank you. When do we do the next ones?ý 3Tonight.ý 3So soon?ý 3It must be so, for the power to fix.ý 3Tonight, then.ý **** Though the bar had been closed for an hour, Joe was wide-awake from an ill-advised midnight mug of coffee. He sat at his computer, not tallying the night1s receipts, but accessing the day1s activity reports from other Watchers. Originally he had thought Methos1 creation of an electronic mail system for Watchers was a bad idea, but he had to admit, it was damned convenient. And with Methos playing sysadmin and watching the security like a hawk, he was less afraid of its potential misuse than he had once been. After the fiasco in Paris, he was sure Methos was being scrupulously careful. As the roster of familiar names scrolled by on his screen, along with location notes, he suddenly stopped and backed up. Two days earlier Tanner Dane had been spotted in northern California. Automatically Joe reached for the phone, then stopped, shaking his head. It was kind of hard to use the phone when the modem was engaged. Anyway, it was three in the morning, and though he was sure that Duncan would want to know Dane might be in the area, he was equally sure that he wouldn1t want to be woken up to hear about it. He finished looking at the reports and logged off, then unlocked the bookcase that held the Chronicles and pulled out the most recent volume on Tanner Dane. Normally Joe relied on his own remarkable memory for details regarding Immortals, but Dane wasn1t someone he normally dealt with, and it wouldn1t hurt to read up on him if he was heading this way. He sat down in the old armchair he favored, got comfortable, and started to read. Engrossed in the revolting tales of Dane1s exploits, he turned a page and sucked in a breath, momentarily stunned. There was a reproduction of a newspaper page from the late 18001s, carrying a story about a beheaded corpse. Dane1s Watcher at that time had annotated the page, stating that the victim had been an Immortal named Wen Chiu, and that Dane had taken his head. Little fuss had been made over the death, even one so unusual, of an Asian national in turn-of-the-century San Francisco. That wasn1t what held Joe1s attention, though. Sharing the page was a cameo-like photograph of a woman in the elaborate dress of the times. He stared at it, stunned, knowing he had faced that same woman across a bar tonight. This was where he1d seen her before! I had been well over a year since he1d last pulled Dane1s chronicle, but his mind had retained the image. He even remembered why. He1d thought it unusual to find a socially prominent Black woman mentioned in a turn of the century paper. He read the caption and his consternation grew. 3Madame Guinan to Host Literary Reception.ý Guinan. The same name, the same face, more than a hundred years ago? Impossible! How could she be an Immortal, without the Watchers knowing of her? There were only seven female Immortals, other than those newly-Become, whose faces yet eluded the Watchers. He knew their descriptions by heart. Three were Caucasian, one Asian, two Hispanic, one Native American. None of them were Black, and Guinan would never be mistaken for anything else. He put in the database disk and tried a search on all the known Black female Immortals, thinking he might have forgotten someone. That search proved equally fruitless. None of the photographs he found even vaguely resembled Guinan. He shut down the system and stared at the blank screen, unseeing, disturbed by what he1d found... or not found. Could they have managed to miss someone entirely? Could their efforts be that slipshod? Surely she had trained under someone known, had taken heads... no Immortal could live over a hundred years without doing so, could they? He thought of those rare Immortals who lived their lives on Sacred Ground to avoid having to kill. It was possible, just not probable, and unheard of in one who was not cloistered in some way. Whoever she was, she didn1t seem a threat to Duncan or Richie, though it would be a good idea to tell them about her anyway. He had another reason to call Duncan now, to see if he knew her. It had been Joe1s experience that there were few Immortal women Duncan didn1t know... especially in the biblical sense. He tried picturing them together, and failed. Duncan didn1t usually go for the earthy types... or was he just sour grapesing? He chuckled, admitting a twinge of jealousy at his friend1s admittedly impressive track-record with women. Of course, he1d had a lot of lifetimes to perfect his technique. He looked at his watch. It was almost five. Three more hours, and he could safely call Duncan. He settled back down with the Chronicle and began to read again. **** 3Mulder, I think you need to take a look at this.ý Fox Mulder looked up from the file he was perusing, and found his petite, red-headed partner standing in front of his desk holding out a folder. He took it, eyebrows lifted. 3What is it, Scully?ý 3Something that looks like it might be up our alley.ý 3Which alley would that be?ý 3A back one, of course. Just take a look, and tell me what you think.ý 3You know, this is almost a first.ý 3What is?ý 3You bringing me a case. This is only the second time that I can remember.ý 3Well, maybe that means you1ll read it sometime today?ý she asked archly. He grinned and settled back, opening the file, eyes narrowing as he paged through the documents in the folder. When he came to the photographs, he sat forward suddenly, his attention firmly caught. Finally he looked up. 3Some sort of ritual murders? Cult slayings?ý 3That was my thought, though as you know, that1s extremely rare. Still, you have fifteen corpses scattered across seven states, all beheaded with some sort of sharp metal object. Half the victims have identical tattoos on the left wrist< that can1t be coincidence.ý 3No, it can1t. Any records of that tattoo in the cult files?ý 3Not that any investigation has turned up so far. So, are you interested?ý Mulder looked at her as if she1d suggested they strip and make love on the desk. 3Is the Pope Catholic? Do we have background files on all the victims?ý 3Not on all of them, but on several, yes. The oddest thing is, they all seem to be just ordinary people, with a few notable similarities.ý 3Which are?ý 3They all were self-employed, traveled a great deal, and had income greater than their jobs would seem to warrant.ý 3Interesting. Any connections to organized crime?ý She frowned. 3I don1t know... I hadn1t thought of that angle.ý 3We can look into it ourselves. Do you have any idea what the murder weapon was? Axe? Chain-saw?ý She repressed a smile, almost. 3Nothing1s been positively identified, though at least one coroner thinks a sword was used.ý He did a double-take. 3A sword? Maybe it1s the ghost of Errol Flynn, taking revenge for colorization... were any of the victims employed by Turner Broadcasting?ý Scully didn1t even grant him a dirty look. 3That1s not the only thing that1s odd about this case. According to three of the reports, there is evidence of intense electrical activity around some of the corpses.ý 3Electrical activity? Like what?ý 3Light fixtures blown out, windows shattered, electrical burns on walls and floors. Very weird stuff.ý 3Hang on, this is starting to sound familiar...ý Mulder went to the file drawers and began to dig. It took him a few minutes, but finally he found what he was looking for. 3Here it is. 1985, New York City. Several homicides, all beheadings accompanied by signs of intense electrical activity, just like you just said. The police investigated a man named Russell Nash, a well-to-do antique dealer, but were never able to gather enough evidence to file charges. Shortly after that, he dropped out of sight, though someone fitting his description was seen not long afterward in Scotland. He has not returned to the U.S., at least not under the same name. Hmmm...ý Mulder flipped through the file, then again, more slowly. 3Interesting.ý He dug a box of push-pins out of the desk drawer and retrieved foamcore-mounted map from between two file cabinets. A stippling of holes across its surface showed that it had been used for similar purposes in the past. Balancing it across his knees, he handed the folder to Scully. 3I need the names of the cities where the bodies were found, starting with the earliest known incident.ý Scully nodded. 3First incident, Miami, Florida.ý Mulder placed a pin. 3Next?ý 3Atlanta, Georgia.ý He placed a second pin, and looked up expectantly. 3Shreveport, Louisiana.ý When all the pins had been placed, there was a clear progression of killings moving across the US from the south-east coast toward west coast, then turning north. The last report was from Reno, Nevada. 3Interesting. We should alert law-enforcement in Oregon and Washington. 3Why?ý He looked up from the map. 3Just a hunch. He1s been moving toward the West coast, and seems to be going north now. That leaves Oregon and Washington as his most likely next destinations.ý 3He?ý Dana questioned him, eyebrows lifted. 3Almost all serial killers are male. I wonder what the significance of killing in pairs is, and why he deviated from his pattern in California? Were the victims romantically involved? Married, or otherwise?ý 3I don1t think so. Most of them were same-sex, and then there1s that trio in California.ý 3Neither of which means they weren1t involved.ý 3True, but the reports would probably have mentioned alternate lifestyles.ý 3If it were known. That1s something else we need to check on.ý 3Do you think it1s this Nash person?ý 3It could be. The last known sighting of Nash was in Scotland, Miami has a large international airport with several flights daily from the UK. Nash was also wealthy, and our killer apparently has money, he can afford to fly to find his victims. 3Why do you say that?ý 3Because of the timing. The first and second killings took place only eight hours apart but the killer couldn1t have driven from Miami to Atlanta in that short a time, ergo, he flew. Same with the time elapsed between the second and third killing. Also, you may have noticed that most of the killings took place in cities with large airports. We should also check Interpol reports for similar killings.ý He looked at her, frowning slightly. 3Scully, is this our case? Did you clear this with Skinner?ý 3It1s no one1s case yet, but I had planned to ask Skinner if he would assign us to it.ý 3Would you? He1s a lot more likely to okay a case request from you than he is from me. I1ll go up to Travel Accounting and get tickets to Reno. If we1re lucky, we can use my frequent flyer upgrades.ý Scully nodded and left the room, folder in hand. Mulder looked at the map a moment longer, and sighed. 3What does it say about me that I can get into these people1s heads?ý he asked the room at large, not expecting an answer. **** The phone rang, startling Joe awake. He sat up, and the Chronicle he1d been reading fell off his lap onto the floor. He grabbed the phone as he leaned over and picked up the book. 3Dawson,ý he said, squinting at the clock. It was eleven in the morning. So much for calling Duncan first thing. 3Joe?ý The voice on the other end was teary and female. It took him a moment to place it. 3Kaarin? Is that you?ý 3Yes... Joe, I can1t think of how else to tell you this... Tim1s dead... it1s just awful! Someone took his head, like he was one of Them! I can1t believe anyone would do that to him, he never hurt anyone!ý He felt as if he1d just fallen through ice into freezing water. 3God... no! Kaarin, when did this happen?ý 3The police say it happened a week ago, but I just now found out. It took them this long to find me, I1d moved since he last put me on any of his `notification1 lists, and they hadn1t wanted to release the name to the press. I1d read about the killings... but I thought it was Them, it never occurred to me it could be Tim! My God, Joe... why would anyone kill one of us like that? It doesn1t make any sense!ý Joe shook his head. 3I don1t know Kaarin, maybe it1s just a coincidence... maybe it doesn1t mean anything...ý 3That1s hard to believe.ý 3I know. Kaarin, I1m sorry... I know you and Tim were close...ý 3We were talking about getting married.ý Joe flinched, knowing that particular pain. 3I wish there were something I could say that would help, Kaarin, but we both know there isn1t, not now. Wait, you said killings, plural. There was more than one?ý 3Yes, another man... they haven1t released his name either, and didn1t tell me.ý 3Who was Tim Watching?ý 3Carlson.ý Joe thought for a moment, the Immortal concerned was not one he would have considered dangerous to a Watcher, even if Tim had slipped up and been discovered. Kaarin1s assignment was a different matter. 3What about Rachael Myers? Are you still assigned to her?ý 3Yes, but it wasn1t her. She hasn1t left her house in a week now.ý 3But she1s there? You1ve seen her?ý 3I... no, I haven1t. Not for a couple of days. But I saw her go in a week ago, and according to the surveillance logs she1s not been out since. She has a long history of periodic seclusion, I didn1t think there was any need to worry about her.ý 3You may want to see if you can get a look, but Kaarin, be careful. If it1s her, you could be in danger, and you1re not... well, you1re upset.ý There was a long silence, then Kaarin finally replied. 3Don1t worry Joe, I1m not suicidal.ý 3I didn1t mean...ý 3I know. Thank you for caring. I1ll let you know what I find out.ý She hung up before he could say anything else. He sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in his hand, listening to the disconnect tone, then finally he hung it up and ran his hands through his hair. His back ached and he still felt muzzy with sleep. Beneath that his emotions roiled; anger, pain, sorrow balling up inside him like a fist in the belly. He almost reached for his guitar, wanting to play out his pain, but shook his head and instead stood and limped into the kitchen and put coffee on to brew. He had things to do before he could indulge himself. While he waited for the coffee, he splashed water on his face at the sink, drying off with a dishtowel, then poured a cup of coffee. Sipping it, he returned to his computer to see if Kaarin had reported Tim Byers1 death. He opened the file and started searching for the standard message header used to alert the network to a Watcher or Immortal1s death. He found one halfway through the entries and accessed it. 3What the hell?ý Joe snapped as he read, his voice sounding loud in the silence. Though the details were almost the same, the notification was about Marget Lin, not Tim Byers. She had been killed in the same way as Byers, as if she were an Immortal. In Marget1s case, her Immortal, Natalia Tsilkovski, had also been killed, they had been found together. No one knew who had done it, which Immortal had gained the quickening from it, nor did they know why anyone would have killed Marget along with Natalia. Feeling uneasy, he scrolled down a page and saw another DECEASED notification in the subject line. That was Tim, no doubt. He selected that message and started to read, only to stop, his breath tight in his chest as he read. Marek Costas this time, and his Watcher, Allan Furman. Kaarin had said there two bodies were found... he wondered if one of them was Carlson. There was a pattern developing. Who was doing this, and why? It wasn1t unusual to lose two or three Immortals in a week1s time, but their Watchers had never been at risk before! Scowling, he created a file and began to type an alert to the Watcher network at large. By now others would probably have noticed the unusual deaths, and be reacting, but he wanted everyone warned. Once he finished that, it was time for a phone call to Duncan. **** Even though it had become a familiar smell over the years, Mulder never quite managed to suppress his initial surge of discomfort at the eau-de-formaldehyde-and-decay of a morgue. Though it looked pristine, tile walls and floors spotless, steel tables and equipment gleaming, there was still that underlying scent of rot that made him shiver a little. He could look dispassionately on a body, but somehow the smell affected a more primal part of him. He watched Scully and the coroner as they examined the body. From where he was, he could see the edges of the severed neck. It was clean... astonishingly so. It looked more like something a Hollywood special-effects crew would have created than an actual wound. 3The corpse was like this when you found it?ý Scully1s voice was slightly muffled by her mask. The other woman nodded. 3Almost exactly. And it had been there for at least a day.ý 3Indoors or out?ý 3Indoors, in an old warehouse, but there was no air conditioning, and a lot of broken windows.ý 3What about the other one?ý 3Both bodies were found in the warehouse, but the other one is normal.ý 3Interesting. What all did you look for?ý 3The usual stuff, staphylococcus, s. silbus, s. auresu, s. saprophyticus, the micrococci, and on, and on. There should1ve been all kinds of bugs on this guy, but there weren1t. Not only that, but there were no viri in the blood samples!ý 3What about the internal organs?ý 3You may want to look at those yourself... it1s pretty amazing in there. I1ve never seen organs like this in anyone over the age of six.ý 3What do you mean?ý 3They1re perfect, textbook perfect, almost. There are a couple of abnormalities... see here?ý Rosall lifted one of the corpse1s arms and peeled back a flap of skin in the underarm area. 3Are those lymph nodes?ý Scully sounded amazed. 3But they1re huge... and so many of them!ý 3Exactly! Ever see anything like that before? I haven1t. The neck shows similar development, and look at this,ý Rosall did something in the body cavity. 3Here, see the spleen?ý 3It seems to be enlarged.ý 3I thought so at first, but look inside.ý Scully leaned down and examined the body more closely. 3My god... that1s odd! It1s packed with white pulp!ý 3You should see it under the Oscope! I also found some rather unusual nerve development when I was doing slides as well. This guy is just bizarre.ý 3You said he had no bacteria or viruses in his system... what about cancer?ý 3Nope, not a sign of it.ý 3What1s up Scully?ý Mulder asked, tired of not knowing what they were talking about. She stepped away from the body and pulled her mask down a bit. 3Aside from a complete lack of any kind of inimical bacteria or viruses, this guy also had some very peculiar physiology. Usually you find all kinds of bacteria on a body, some of it beneficial, like intestinal flora, but a lot of other stuff too. However, according to Dr. Rosall1s lab reports, there is a complete absence of normal pathogens in this body.ý 3Meaning?ý 3Meaning that this person is in unnaturally good health.ý 3Aside from the minor problem of being dead?ý Mulder asked dryly. Dr. Rosall let out a soft laugh, and he mentally marked his scorecard. It wasn1t every day you got a coroner to laugh. 3What made you test for the presence of normal bacteria? It doesn1t seem like a `standard procedure1 sort of thing.ý 3It1s not,ý she said, nodding approvingly at his question. 3I began testing after noticing that the corpse had a substantively atypical pattern of necrosis.ý 3Can I have a translation of that from Coroner-ese?ý 3It wasn1t rotting properly.ý 3Too much junk food?ý Mulder asked, only half joking. Rosall shook her head. 3Actually, preservatives in the diet can have an effect on decay, but not like this. I1ve saved the best for last, though,ý She walked over to the lightbox and turned it on. 3Take a look a these babies.ý There were several x-rays on the box. Scully walked over to where she could see them clearly, Mulder followed, though he didn1t expect to be able to make heads of tails of whatever the films showed. Scully studied them for a moment, then a soft gasp broke from her lips and she stepped closer. After a moment she shot a look of disbelief at her fellow pathologist. 3That1s impossible! No one could have survived that!ý 3That1s what I thought. Amazing isn1t it?ý 3What is?ý Mulder asked, staring at the shadowy images on the film, wondering what was so exciting about them. 3It looks as if he fell from a great height, or was beaten horrifically... crushed somehow. I don1t know. It1s weird.ý 3Maybe he was a skydiver and his chute didn1t open?ý Mulder speculated blandly, still not seeing the problem. You don1t understand, Mulder. These healed breaks appear to be approximately the same age, which means that at some time in his life just about every bone in this man1s body was broken, but they healed! I1ve never heard of anyone living through damage of this nature! It1s simply not possible!ý 3Scully, after all this time working with me, I1d think you would have dropped that phrase from your vocabulary. Show me what you1re looking at.ý Scully pointed out the healed fracture marks, sometimes two or three to any given bone. He had to admit that it was pretty spectacular, especially considering that some of the worst fractures seemed to have been in the skull and neck area. 3Even granting the possibility of someone surviving this sort of trauma, the victim would probably have been paralysed, and probably severely brain-damaged,ý Scully said, shaking her head. 3Maybe he was. What do we know about him?ý Rosall stripped off her gloves and put them in a container marked prominently with the biohazard emblem, then began scrubbing her hands as she spoke. 3Very little, actually. He was a visitor, probably here to gamble, like most people who come here. He was staying at the Hilton. No one remembers anything unusual about him. His ID tells us his name was Frederick Corben, of Baltimore, Maryland. He was thirty-four years old, and his business cards indicate that he was an art dealer. People who spoke to him said he appeared perfectly normal, and I found no signs of muscular atrophy consist with paralysis.ý Scully had wandered back over to the body and was examining it, lifting the arms, turning them this way and that. Mulder wondered what she was looking for. She glanced up when Rosall stopped speaking. 3He was thirty-four?ý 3That1s what his records say.ý 3Was he born in the United States?ý 3Yes, Houston, Texas.ý 3But he doesn1t have a smallpox vaccination scar.ý Scully ran a latex-sheathed finger over the corpse1s upper arm. 3I checked both arms.ý 3A lot of people don1t any more.ý 3Not people this age, born in the US. They didn1t stop giving vaccinations to babies until the late sixties, as I recall.ý 3So you don1t think he was born in the US?ý 3No, I don1t. And I1ll bet those papers are faked. Mulder, have someone check that out, would you?ý 3Already on it, Scully.ý She looked up. He had his cell-phone out and was dialing. **** In the Dark 2/14 It was eight in the evening. Joe was behind the bar, fretting, having not been able to contact Duncan other than to leave repeated messages on his machine. Someone touched his shoulder and he turned quickly, almost losing his balance. 3What?ý he snapped, his voice rough and harsh. He regretted it a second later. 3Guinan! I1m sorr...ý he began, but she lifted a hand and shook her head. 3No need. I can see you1re upset... and so can your customers. Let Dave mind the bar and come talk to me.ý Not quite knowing why, he followed her to a table in the back, where the light was dim and the band not quite so overwhelming. She sat down, and indicated a place across from her. 3So, tell me what1s bothering you.ý Something about her voice and manner invited confidence. For a moment he was tempted, but then he shook his head. 3I can1t talk about it.ý 3Can1t, or won1t?ý 3Can1t. It would be betraying a confidence.ý She inclined her head, indicating understanding. They sat silent for a moment, then finally she spoke again. 3What happened to your legs?ý He was stunned silent for a moment. No one ever commented on that, they just pretended not to notice. 3I ah... ah...ý he stammered. 3I1ve offended you,ý Guinan stated, looking regretful. 3I1m sorry.ý 3No, it1s not that! Actually, it1s kind of nice for someone to just come out and ask, rather than pretending not to notice. I lost both legs in a car accident, fifteen years ago.ý He didn1t mention what else he1d lost in that accident. That was too personal a thing to talk about with a virtual stranger, no matter how much you liked them. Besides, what woman wanted to hear about a man1s lost loves? 3You1re very stubborn, aren1t you?ý she said, her head cocked slightly to one side. He chuckled. 3What makes you think that?ý 3A lot of people would be content with a wheelchair. You1re not.ý 3You1re damned right I1m not! If that makes me stubborn, then yes, I am.ý 3I can see that. What do you do, besides tend bar?ý 3Play guitar.ý 3I1d like to hear you.ý 3Stick around awhile, you will. It1s how I blow off steam when I get like this.ý 3Like what?ý 3You know, you said it yourself. Scary to the customers.ý He growled for emphasis. She laughed. 3You don1t scare me. Your bark is a lot worse than your bite.ý He bared his teeth. 3How do you know, little girl?ý She studied him for a moment, a tiny smile on her face, and he had the feeling he was about to regret having said that. Before she could speak movement caught his eye and he looked up to see Duncan striding toward the table, his leather trenchcoat swirling around his calves. A feeling of unutterable relief washed through him. Duncan was all right. Though Joe knew quite well that it was against Watcher policy to get `involved1 with the Immortals you were supposed to watch, he had become good friends with Duncan MacLeod. It would hurt like hell to lose him. Joe stood as Duncan came to the table. He saw no trace of the wariness Duncan usually displayed in the presence of another Immortal, though that did not necessarily mean he hadn1t felt Recognition. If Duncan had sensed Guinan before Joe had noticed him, he might not have seen it. Guinan1s face showed nothing other than curiosity, and a bit of the same slightly `dazed1 expression women often displayed in Duncan1s presence. 3Joe, what1s wrong?ý Duncan1s voice was concerned, his attention focused. 3I got home and found eight messages from you on my machine!ý Joe turned to Guinan. 3I1m sorry, will you excuse me for a few moments? I need to speak to my friend in private.ý Guinan nodded. 3Go ahead. I1ll wait. I1m good at waiting.ý Duncan shot a curious glance at Guinan, and nodded at her politely, but his attention returned almost immediately to Joe as he followed him into the back room. **** Guinan watched Joe lead his friend out of sight, her curiosity more piqued than it had been in years. Joe was earthy, real, and warm, his mental signature simultaneously soothing and stimulating. But his friend... there was some indefinable difference about him, and it had nothing to do with his extraordinary good looks, though those certainly didn1t put her off at all. What really drew her was the core of his personality, so much stronger than any of the others in the room that to her Othersenses he almost glowed. Even though she was young and her empathic skills only beginning to develop, she could sense a powerful difference about the newcomer. She was intrigued. What made him different? What set him apart? She1d never met a Terran who felt quite like him before, though some of her own people had similar auras, her father, for instance. He had once told her that sort of intense personality developed with age... which couldn1t possibly be the case here. Humans were too short-lived to develop that sort of depth and brilliance. Perhaps they were occasionally born with such intensity? She would have to study that possibility. She wondered what they were to each other. She almost hadn1t needed her budding empathy to sense the intensity of relief Joe had felt when the other man came into the bar. It had been written all over his face. Were they lovers, perhaps? No, she didn1t think that felt quite right. It was a complex sort of feeling... with oddly mixed paternal and filial overtones, openness and secrecy, rivalry and friendship... very strange. She was fascinated. Humans were so interesting! She couldn1t understand why her father was always pestering her to give up her studies on Earth. If there was any other species in known space that held more potential, she hadn1t found it. Musing on that, she went to the bar for a coffee and returned to her seat, waiting. Perhaps Joe would introduce her to his intriguing friend when he returned. **** 3What?ý Duncan demanded, shaken. 3Watchers too? But that doesn1t make sense! There1s no reason...ý 3I know that, but it is happening. Another pair were reported since I first realized what was going on this morning.ý 3But who...?ý 3Your guess is as good as mine. All I can say is that whoever it is, is a sadistic son of a bitch. Our people aren1t trained to fight! They wouldn1t stand a chance!ý Duncan nodded. 3You1re right about that.ý Joe was silent for a moment, then finally he looked up at Duncan, his face set. 3Mac, you know I1m not supposed to do this, but I felt you should know. Tanner Dane may be heading our way. Duncan1s shoulders tensed, but he kept his face expressionless. 3Tanner Dane?ý Joe nodded. 3I thought you might like to know.ý Duncan1s thoughts were chaotic... memories surfaced, terrible ones. It had happened nearly three hundred years ago, but even that distance wasn1t enough to dull the pain of it. 3Duncan?ý His attention snapped back to the present, and he saw Joe watching him with concerned eyes. 3You were thinking of Thalassa Demetrious, weren1t you?ý Duncan nodded, swallowing down the nausea that still surged. 3Doesn1t it strike you as odd that Dane should turn up now?ý Joe nodded. 3It did, I just wondered if you would agree. I1m trying to contact his Watcher to find out where he1s been, but with Dane on the road Evan hasn1t had a chance to check in. At least, I hope that1s the only reason. He could be dead, too, if it1s Dane, though how he would have learned about us, I don1t know.ý Duncan shook his head. 3Dane1s not stupid. Sometimes you Watchers get careless. Remember, I found you... Kalas found you... it1s not that hard.ý Joe flinched, but had to acknowledge the truth of Duncan1s words. 3It1s a perennial problem, since we1re primarily volunteer and only minimally trained. I1ll see if we can match Dane to the vicinity of any of the killings. If we can just find out who1s doing it, maybe we can warn people.ý 3My people or yours?ý Duncan asked, quietly. Joe looked at him, and there was guilt in his eyes. 3Duncan...ý Duncan shook his head. 3I1m sorry, Joe. I shouldn1t have said that. Thanks for the information. Even that1s more than you should have told me.ý 3If I could do more, I would.ý 3I know.ý He had to change the subject, get away from the pain. He cast around desperately for a topic, and found one. 3So... who1s your friend? I haven1t seen her around before, have I?ý Joe looked surprised. 3You mean you don1t know her?ý Duncan looked at him, frowning slightly as he tried to remember having met her before. 3No, should I?ý 3I thought she was one of yours.ý 3One of my what?ý Duncan asked, intrigued. 3An Immortal.ý Duncan focused on him, intent. 3Why would you think that?ý 3Look at this...ý Joe opened his desk and took out a book. Duncan recognized the Watcher sigil on the cover, and knew it must be a Chronicle. Joe opened it, and handed the open book to him. He studied the page, a photocopy of a newspaper from the 18001s. For a moment he wasn1t sure why Joe had given it to him, then he really looked at the face in the photograph. His eyebrows lifted. 3Astonishing resemblance,ý he said, studying the page. 3But it1s not her?ý Duncan shook his head. 3No, she1s no Immortal.ý 3You1re sure?ý 3I think I would have noticed.ý Duncan said, drily. Joe chuckled. 3I suppose that1s true. The resemblance just was so uncanny... I had to ask.ý 3You1d be surprised how many people look like their ancestors. If I had a dime for every time I1ve thought I saw a face from my past in a crowd, I1d be a rich man.ý 3Duncan, you are a rich man.ý Duncan grinned. 3That1s beside the point.ý They both chuckled. 3So, are you going to introduce me?ý 3On one condition.ý 3That being?ý 3Try not to be so damned charming, okay?ý Duncan1s eyebrows shot up. 3Blows the wind from that quarter?ý Joe looked a touch embarrassed. 3I didn1t mean...ý 3Say no more. I1ll do my best boor imitation.ý 3Oh God, no!ý Joe moaned theatrically, his head in his hands. 3Anything but that!ý **** There he was. Guinan sensed him getting closer, that seductively powerful aura like a torch in the room full of muddy, drunken souls. She looked up and found Joe and his friend approaching the table. Whatever Joe1s problem had been, the meeting must have mitigated it. His surly expression was gone and she could sense that though he was still concerned, he wasn1t frantic with worry as he had been earlier. As they approached, she was forcibly reminded of a pair of wolves; one grizzled and a bit the worse for wear, but still hell in a fight, the other younger, stronger, but perhaps more impulsive. She smiled privately at the comparison, and reminded herself that wolves hunt in packs. The younger man turned his chair around backward and straddled it, the already-taut denim of his jeans stretching to the point where she wondered why a seam didn1t give. She pretended not to have been looking anyplace where she would have noticed. As he flipped his heavy coat out behind him, she flashed back to trying to sit down in a hoopskirt, and understood why he was sitting in the chair the wrong way. Joe waved a hand at his companion. 3Guinan, I1d like to you meet a friend of mine, Duncan MacLeod, Duncan, Guinan. She sings with the band.ý 3Only when they want to thin the crowd a bit.ý Guinan said, with a grin. 3I1m pleased to meet you Mr. MacLeod.ý 3Call me Duncan, please. Being called `mister1 makes me feel ancient.ý Joe shot an amused glance at his friend, who shrugged, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. Guinan wondered what that was all about, but refrained from asking. 3All right, Duncan it is, then. I see you1ve managed to help Joe out of that nasty mood he was in earlier. Let me guess... you owed him money and you just paid up?ý That drew a laugh from Joe, who shook his head. 3I1m more likely to owe Duncan money than he is me. No, it was nothing like that, I just had some important information I needed to relay to him.ý She sensed undertones of protectiveness beneath his words. Whatever the information had been, Joe had felt his friend endangered by not knowing it. Now that he had passed it on, he was still not completely at ease, but far more so than earlier. 3Well then, I guess you don1t need me to keep you away from the bar any more.ý she pushed her chair back, and stood. 3Hold on, where are you going?ý 3I thought you1d want to talk with your friend.ý 3I can talk with him any time. You, I1ve just met, so sit down.ý She grinned and sat, as Duncan stuck his lip out in an exaggerated pout. 3Well, what am I? Chopped liver?ý 3Not quite,ý Joe said, grinning. 3Go get us a beer.ý 3From chopped liver to errand boy! I can tell when I1m not wanted!ý Duncan put his nose haughtily in the air and stood up. His coat caught the chair behind him and knocked it over with a resounding crash. Looking sheepish he straightened it and fought his way out of the coat. 3Damned thing1s a hazard.ý he muttered, draping it over the back of a chair. Guinan admired the way his sweater emphasized his chest and shoulders, and wished it weren1t quite so long as he walked off to get the drinks. The track lighting gleamed on his hair, a sable cloak across his shoulders. So often long hair on men seemed affected, but his did not. It looked utterly appropriate. A second later Joe sighed, and she turned her attention back to him, to find him gazing at her with a rather resigned expression. 3He1s done it again, hasn1t he?ý 3Done what?ý Guinan asked, puzzled. 3Never mind.ý She hated it when people did that. 3I won1t `never mind!1 What?ý 3It1s just that Duncan seems to have this... effect... on women.ý 3Oh, that,ý she said, matter-of-factly. 3He does, doesn1t he? It probably annoys you.ý 3It1s petty, I know.ý 3It1s normal. It1s a guy thing.ý Joe cringed. 3God... what an awful thought!ý 3Well, take heart, I noticed you first.ý Joe lifted an eyebrow. 3But would you have if we1d both been here last night?ý She chuckled. 3Good question. Unfortunately, we1ll never know the answer. Besides, if you can honestly tell me you don1t notice good-looking women, then you can bitch about me noticing good-looking men. I saw you checking out that blonde at the bar last night.ý 3I did not!ý 3Yes you did.ý 3Did not!ý 3It was a nice diamond necklace she was wearing, wasn1t it?ý Joe frowned thoughtfully. 3She wasn1t wearing a necklace.ý Guinan snorted. 3I rest my case.ý Joe opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again without speaking, looking as sheepish as Duncan had a few moments earlier. Duncan made his way back thought the crowd to the table, balancing a tray of drinks like a professional waiter. 3I wasn1t sure what to get, so I went with three draft Wickeds. I asked Jerry what the lady was drinking, and he said coffee, so I brought one of those too, just in case.ý Guinan sighed. 3Isn1t he sweet?ý Joe snorted. 3Give it a rest, Duncan.ý Guinan waved a hand at him. 3Oh hush, Joe. The boy can1t help it! Besides, you might learn something.ý 3Boy?ý Duncan echoed, incredulous. 3I1m not calling you a girl, now am I?ý 3I1m older than I look.ý Guinan said. 3So am I.ý Duncan returned. They stared at each other, narrow-eyed, for a moment, like a pair of cats circling before a fight, then Joe started laughing, which set them all off. Duncan almost dropped the tray, but managed to rescue it, with only minor spillage. He set it down and distributed the drinks. **** Scully sat back with a sigh, tossing her glasses onto the table as she rubbed her eyes and yawned. 3You know, Mulder, I had no idea how popular decapitation was as a modus operandi. This is truly astonishing. Some of these occurred on the same day, close to the same time, but in different countries. Unless our killer can bilocate, they can1t all have been done by the same person.ý Mulder looked up from where he sat on the bed, surrounded by stacks of paper, just as she was. 3When I requested information from Interpol on unsolved murders involving decapitation, I expected a handful of reports, not hundreds! This is not making life any easier!ý He yawned too, trying to hide it behind his hand. 3Now you1ve got me doing it!ý he said accusingly. 3You know better than to yawn, it starts a chain reaction!ý She grinned. 3The fact that it1s after midnight couldn1t have anything to do with it, now could it?ý 3Not a thing.ý He dropped the stack of reports he1d been looking at and picked up a different one. 3Maybe the U.S. ones will be more helpful... at least there are fewer of them.ý He started paging through the collection, then suddenly slowed, and started over, pulling out several sheets. 3What is it, Mulder?ý Scully asked, watching him with interest. 3I think I may have something here, Scully! Remember how the pattern indicated the killer was heading for the Northwest coast? It looks like he1s either been there before, or maybe he lives there. Here are seven unsolved reports of decapitations, all in or around the Seattle area. This is interesting, some guy named MacLeod turns up in four of these reports. He was investigated in connection with the murders, but released for lack of evidence. Get this, he1s an antique dealer!ý Scully made the connection instantly. 3Like Nash! It could be him, using an assumed name!ý 3It could be. There1s only one way to find out, though. We1re going to Seattle.ý Mulder grabbed the phone and started dialing. 3So much for sleep,ý Scully said, her mouth tightening in a moment of self-pity as she thought of her hotel room, and its unused bed. He looked at her sympathetically. 3It1s...ý he started, then his attention was diverted to the phone. 3Yes, you can. I need two one-ways from Reno to Seattle on the next flight out. What? Yeah, I can hold.ý He returned his gaze to her. 3Sorry, Scully, but isn1t it worth a few hours sleep?ý She nodded. 3If we can keep him from killing again, I1d stay up for a week. I1ll get the file on Nash and fax a photograph to the police there. We1ll see if it matches this MacLeod guy.ý **** Duncan sat staring into space, feeling a distant sadness. It had been a wonderful evening, no mistake. He and Joe and Guinan had laughed and talked until nearly closing; but now he was alone, and remembering. Gods above, but sometimes he wished there were a way to turn memories off. What he wanted to remember often eluded him, and what he most wanted to forget slipped like fog from all the dark nooks and crannies of his mind. He1d tried various ways of forgetting over the years, alcohol, prayer, women, meditation, exercise. Some succeeded better than others, but all of them were, in the end, only temporary. So now he sat on the low concrete wall that bounded the parking lot down the street from Joe1s bar, and waited for the alcohol haze to clear from his mind so he wasn1t a menace behind the wheel. A few hundred years experience had taught him how to tell when he was safe from when he wasn1t. Right now, he wasn1t safe, but he was remembering all too well. Sixteen-ninety-four. Greece. Thalassa. A small woman with a ready laugh and warm heart. Her hair had been thick, and curling, black as a raven1s wing, her mouth as full and red as a cup of bordeaux. She too had been an Immortal, and they had found some comfort in the friendship of another like soul. They had been friends and sometime lovers for close-on a year then. He had, with reluctance, left for three weeks to help a friend with some business dealings, and had returned to find she had vanished from the small house they shared in a village on the Mediterranean coast. The overturned and broken furnishings, and deep metallic gouges in the walls made him suspect she had met another Immortal and fought there. Because she was gone, he was fairly certain she must have lost the battle, though he had thought her skills improving from their sparring partnership. Whoever she had fought must have disposed of the body. As he sat on the stoop, unseeing, unable to even grieve yet, the boy who lived across the way came out and touched his arm. Duncan had looked up to find the child looking frightened and sad. 3What is it?ý 3Bad man.ý Duncan looked around, wondering if someone had been bothering the boy, needing a battle, and more than willing to take one on for the sake of a child. 3Where? Has someone hurt you?ý Niko shook his head solemnly. 3Took her. I saw him.ý 3Her?ý Duncan felt a flash of hope. 3You mean Thalassa?ý He sat up, head clearing. 3Took her? She was alive?ý Niko nodded. 3Where did he take her?ý Duncan asked intently. Niko pointed toward the foothills the village backed onto. 3There.ý 3When?ý Niko frowned, concentrating, then his expression cleared and he smiled triumphantly. 3Wash day!ý For a moment Duncan was puzzled, then he understood. Every Monday the village women did laundry together. If she1d been taken on Monday, that meant Thalassa had been gone four days. He almost despaired, the trail would be stone cold by now... but he had to try. Thanking the boy, he had gone into the hills, searching for any sign of her, and almost immediately had found one of Thalassa1s ribbons caught in a tree. A bit further on, he found one of her rings. He consistently found small signs, almost as if he had been left a trail. WHen he had found *her*, he realized that was exactly what had happened. The man who had taken Thalassa had meant for Duncan to find her. At a hundred and two years of age, he had thought himself inured to horror, but he found he still had the capacity for it. Dane had tortured her. If a normal human were tortured that way, they would simply die, and that would be the end; but an Immortal kept returning, to be tormented again and again. What had been left of Thalassa was a gibbering wreck, pleading for the true Death, with just enough mind left to tell him who had done it to her, and to convince him to deliver the coup de grace. After it was done, he had been sick. To gain a Quickening at the expense of a loved one was the worst thing he could imagine. He had never felt guilt like that before, not only because in a sense he had benefitted by killing her, but because he knew Dane had tortured her in retribution for his own interference in his affairs a decade earlier. Knowing that Dane was so vicious that he had foregone a Quickening just to leave Thalassa for Duncan to find hadn1t made the pain any easier to bear. 3Hey there...ý The voice in the darkness was soft. Startled, he leaped to his feet, his sword ringing as it left its sheath. For a moment didn1t see the speaker, then he caught the gleam of streetlight on sable skin, and the curve of a broad cheekbone. 3Guinan?ý She nodded and stepped forward into the pool of light cast by the lamp. He felt a bit sick at how close he had come to harming her. 3Damn it! Don1t you know better than to sneak up on someone in the middle of the night?ý Cold sober from the rush of adrenalin, he sheathed the katana, slipping it back into place much more quietly than it had emerged, but too late to keep her from seeing it. 3You seemed sad,ý she said quietly. He was momentarily taken aback, having expected her to be ask why he carried a sword, not about his state of mind. It took him a few seconds to gather his wits, and he replied honestly. 3Just memories, that1s all.ý 3Memories can hurt just as much as the original incident, sometimes more.ý He nodded, and they stood in silence for a moment. Finally he looked at her again. 3You shouldn1t be out here by yourself so late.ý She smiled slightly. 3Neither should you.ý He shrugged. 3I can take care of myself.ý 3So can I.ý 3I never doubted it,ý Duncan said gravely, sensing that it was something she felt strongly about. 3I thought you went home.ý 3I did, but I realized I1d lost something, and came back to find it.ý 3What was it?ý 3A pin. It must have fallen off somewhere. I hoped it was in the bar.ý 3Something valuable?ý 3No, not really. The bar1s closed, though. I1ll have to look for it tomorrow.ý He nodded. Silence fell again for a time. It was an oddly comfortable silence. After awhile, Guinan spoke. 3Do you want to talk?ý 3About?ý 3Memories. I1m a good listener. I come from a long line of good listeners.ý Duncan shook his head. 3No. I don1t need to talk about it. I came to terms with it a long time ago.ý 3Then why do you still feel guilty?ý Her quiet words struck with the keen precision of a blade, sliding past his defenses, straight to the heart. He closed his eyes, not looking at her. 3I don1t,ý he lied. 3You do. It1s in your eyes, your voice, your body... come on. Surely there1s a greasy spoon around here somewhere. Buy me coffee and we1ll talk, you need it.ý He had to swallow before he could speak. There was an obstruction in his throat, and his vision was blurred. Neither had anything to do with alcohol. 3I1m not sure I can,ý he whispered. 3Then we1ll sit in silence. You shouldn1t be alone.ý That was the truth. He felt a sudden odd kinship with the woman at his side, a strong desire to turn her face to his and find out if her lips were as soft as they looked, to find out what her mask of serenity hid. But... there was Joe. He stepped back. 3You wouldn1t want the coffee at Mel1s Place. That stuff1ll kill you. How about you come to my place and I1ll make coffee?ý She cocked her head to one side and eyed him speculatively. 3Step into my parlor?ý He spread his hands. 3Honest, I1m a gentleman.ý She gazed at him a moment, and nodded. 3I know.ý He felt complimented. With a sweeping bow, he gestured toward the black Thunderbird in the lot behind them. 3Your chariot awaits, milady.ý She laughed. 3You do that so naturally.ý He shrugged. 3I1m a bit of an anachronism.ý She paused, looking up into the darkness at stars she couldn1t see, then shook her head and started for the car. 3So am I.ý **** In the Dark 3/14 MacLeod1s apartment was as interesting as his aura. An eclectic mixture of Eastern and Western influences, antique elegance, and modern comfort. She moved around the open loft examining various of his treasures as he busied himself in the kitchen. The paintings on the walls were all originals, the rugs on the floor hand-knotted. A black silk yukata hung starkly against a white brick wall, an artifact in itself. Photographs graced another wall, again originals, from the early days of photography. On a shelf a scattering of small objects caught her eye and she stopped to look at them. It was a collection of carved fetish figures. One in particular seemed to call out to her and she picked it up. It was a turtle fetish, a beautiful thing that gleamed wth the translucent gold of amber and had inlaid turquoise eyes. Another fetish beckoned, and she touched it reverently. A frog, carved of some dark green stone. The style was distinctly different, she thought it might be Asian, rather than Native American. Both pieces were gorgeous. None of the others captured her interest quite as much. She looked up to find him watching her, and smiled, walking over to join him in the kitchen. There again, he was an odd mix of modern and archaic. The coffee maker was the yuppie sort that made everything from espresso to drip, and probably had a setting where it would wax the floor, but he was grinding the beans in an old-fashioned hand-crank grinder. She watched in bemused interest as he operated it, fascinated by the unconscious grace of his movements. As he set the coffee to brew, she finally spoke. 3Is that a gym, downstairs?ý 3It1s called a dojo; a school for martial arts. I own it. Sometimes I teach.ý 3Ah, that explains it, then.ý 3Explains what?ý 3The way you move.ý He turned from the refrigerator, a carton of cream in his hand. 3What do you mean?ý 3You move beautifully, like a dancer.ý He chuckled, shaking his head, and rubbed the side of his nose. He seemed to do that when he was embarrassed. 3I... ah... thanks.ý 3For what? Stating the obvious?ý He grinned. 3Go on with you, what do you want?ý 3Do I have to want something?ý 3In my experience, most flatterers do.ý 3I don1t. No, I lied. Actually, I do. I want to know where you1re from. Your accent slips in and out, and every time I think I1ve got it pegged, it changes.ý 3I was born in Scotland, but I1ve lived all over the world. I guess I1ve picked up little bits and pieces from everywhere. Anything else you want to know?ý 3Are you any good?ý His eyebrows lifted, his mouth curved. 3At what?ý he asked, his voice silky, and rich with innuendo. She returned his smile, her own voice just as seductive. 3Swordsmanship, of course.ý She half expected him to make a double-entendre out of his reply, but instead he nodded, seriously. 3I1m very good.ý 3Why a sword?ý she questioned. 3For protection.ý 3Wouldn1t a gun be a lot easier to carry? I1m sure Freud would have some interesting things to say about your choice of weapon.ý That drew quick grin. 3I1m quite comfortable with the size of my genitalia, thank you. Besides, when it comes right down to it, Freud would have had interesting things to say about any weapon. I carry a sword because it1s honorable. You have to look a man in the eyes before you strike. With a gun it1s too easy to forget who you face.ý She thought about that for a moment. 3Interesting philosophy. Is swordsmanship one the things you teach?ý 3I can. My repertoire includes many weapons, many styles, many disciplines.ý 3I1ve always wanted to learn to fence.ý 3If you1re as good with a sword as you are with words, you could be a master.ý She grinned. 3Now who1s flattering whom?ý The coffee maker hissed steamily as it finished the brewing cycle, and MacLeod took two mugs from a cupboard. 3Coffee1s ready.ý He poured coffee into two mugs, handed her one, and picked up the other one himself. She added cream and sugar to her own, took a sip, and nodded happily. 3Good coffee.ý 3Thanks.ý 3So... we were talking about memories.ý 3Were we?ý 3Some time back. I asked if you wanted to talk, you said you didn1t think you could. I think you can, you just don1t want to.ý He studied her for a moment, sipping his coffee. 3It1s not a pleasant tale. I don1t think most people would really want to hear it.ý 3I1m not most people. Tell me.ý He walked away and stood, staring out the window into the darkness for several long, quiet minutes. After awhile, he began to speak. Guinan listened. Though there were odd hesitations here and there, and gaps in the story that she would have liked filled, it quickly became clear that she was listening to a man whose life had held more violence and sorrow than she could possibly have imagined. Who would have thought so young a man might have such things in his past? Was this what had shaped that brilliant soul? Was pain what brought out the promise inherent in this species? She shuddered at the thought. 3Duncan, you can1t blame yourself. From what you1ve told me about this man, he would have done it whether or not you had known Thalassa. She was a convenient target, and it was in his nature. You said yourself he had a reputation for torture, especially of women, and your having saved someone from him earlier was more than admirable, it was heroic.ý Duncan made a derisive sound. 3Look what it got me.ý 3Would you have been able to live with yourself if you hadn1t?ý There was a long silence, then the figure at the window moved minutely, his hand going out to flatten against the glass. 3No,ý he whispered. 3But to take her life...ý 3Would she have wanted to live as he had left her? Would she have lived more than a few days, at best, after what he1d done to her? You freed her. The soul holds only temporary residence in any body... she only needed your help moving on.ý 3Do we have souls?ý he asked bleakly. 3Yes.ý she stated, firmly, unequivocally. 3I wonder...ý 3Don1t. You do.ý He turned and walked to the counter, set down his cup very carefully, as if it were eggshell thin and he were afraid of crushing it. 3Maybe most do, but myself, I doubt.ý 3Why should you be any different?ý He smiled, but it held no humor. 3Why indeed?ý She moved to stand behind him. 3Duncan, do you ever cry?ý He turned, surprised. 3I...ý he stopped, and frowned. 3Almost never.ý 3Why?ý 3I don1t know. I used to, when I was...ý he stopped again. 3A long time ago.ý 3Why did you stop?ý 3Because, it doesn1t help.ý 3Yes it does. It1s an admission of pain, of need, of humanity.ý 3But I1m not human,ý he said bleakly. 3Not any more.ý Guinan shivered, knowing he didn1t mean that like her, he was not of Earth. 3You are human, Duncan. No matter what you1ve done, no matter what you think you1ve become, you1re still human. You are a child of Earth, and your heart will always be human.ý He stared down almost blindly at his hands where they were braced against the countertop. 3You don1t know what I am.ý 3I know more than you think.ý He looked up, eyes narrowing. 3What do you mean?ý She shook her head. 3You1ll think I1m crazy.ý 3No. I won1t. I1ve seen too much in my life. Nothing1s crazy any more.ý She studied him a moment, then nodded acceptance. 3Fair enough. Well, I can sense things about people, things most people can1t sense. You are... different. Very different, but still human. You feel pain, you feel love, you feel anger, hope, joy and sorrow... all the things that make humanity what it is. I don1t know what makes you different, but I do know what makes you the same.ý She put one of her hands over one of his, and almost gasped as his `presence1 flared into her. No wonder Joe was so fiercely protective of him, he probably drew people to him like moths to flame. Even without the aid of non-human senses, this man must shine like a beacon. He lifted her hand with his, and put his lips against her fingers for a moment. It sent a shock through her, a wave of desire. Still holding her hand, he spoke again, his lips so close to her skin that she could feel his breath with each word. 3`I1ve seen sae mony changefu1 years, on earth I am a stranger grown; I wander in the ways o1 men, alike unknowing and unknown.1ý Oh, Great Ladies! A man who wasn1t afraid to admit to knowing poetry! She wanted to melt against him, but knew better. He was so young, so human, so tempting... so against the rules. She pulled back. 3As long as we1re quoting maudlin Scots, perhaps a different one from Auld Robbie might be more appropriate; `O wad some Pow1r the giftie gie us, to see oursel1s as others see us!1ý She sensed the change in his mood before he even smiled. 3Ye1ve no1 quite got the inflection there, but aye, you1re right. Most times we have only our own eyes to see through, and our own perceptions can go awry. Ye hae the Gift, don1t ye?ý His accent was broad now, pure Scot, as if he had burned away all the other voices he1d acquired over the years. 3You could call it that.ý 3I1ve known others with it. OTis a singular talent.ý 3A fairly useless one, most days. But not today, I think.ý He shook his head. 3No, not today.ý He stared at her suddenly, his eyes narrowing. 3There was no lost pin, was there?ý She shook her head slowly, smiling a little. 3No, just a lost soul.ý He shook his head, as if in disbelief, then looked to the window, and gestured to it. She saw the sky beginning to lighten with dawn. 3Thank you, Guinan, for seeing me through Otil morning.ý 3It was my pleasure.ý He grinned. 3I would all women were so easily pleased. More coffee?ý **** It was foggy and raining as Mulder stepped off the plane at Sea-Tac. He felt right at home. As they walked out of the gate, Scully nodded toward a tall, well-dressed Black man who held a sign with their names on it. Having not expected to be met, Mulder was curious, but cautious. Scully apparently had no qualms, since she stopped in front of the man and waved a hand toward Mulder. 3I1m Dana Scully, this is Fox Mulder. You are?ý The man took a leather case from his pocket and opened it to reveal a badge and identification which he left open long enough for them to study. 3Reed Bennett, homicide. I asked if I could come down and meet you after they showed me that fax you sent. You1re the FBI agents working on that recent string of decapitations, right?ý Mulder glanced around and satisfied himself that they weren1t being listened to. 3We are, though we1d prefer it not get bandied around. If the press picks up on it, we may lose our edge... if we even have one. You said you got the fax?ý 3Yeah, they showed it to me because a couple of the cases you were asking about were my cases. Unfortunately, I have to disappoint you. Your suspect doesn1t look a thing like Duncan MacLeod.ý Bennett opened the portfolio he carried and took out a photograph which he handed to Scully. She took it, and her eyes widened slightly. Mulder tried not to be too obvious about looking over her shoulder, but even after she handed it to him he couldn1t see what had elicited her reaction. It was a grainy black and white of some long-haired guy in a t-shirt and jeans, standing next to a younger man on a motorcycle. Neither subject bore the slightest resemblance to the photo they had of Russell Nash. He clenched his teeth against the disappointment, and cast around for an alternate explanation. 3He could have had plastic surgery and dyed his hair.ý Scully looked at him and shook her head. 3Not unless you know a plastic surgeon who can change someone1s basic body structure. Look at this guy< Nash is long and lanky, like you. MacLeod is compact and muscular. You could possibly change part of that with weight training, but not to this extent.ý 3Damn!ý Mulder swore softly, shaking his head. 3I was sure we were onto something when I saw that both suspects were antique dealers.ý Bennett looked puzzled for a moment. 3Antiques? Oh, yeah. I1d almost forgotten. MacLeod got out of the antique business about two years ago, after his lady-friend was killed in a robbery. Now he runs a martial arts studio.ý Mulder looked up. 3Martial arts? So this guy knows weapons and hand-to-hand combat techniques?ý 3Yes, to both questions. If you1d like to see my files on him you1re welcome to, but I don1t think he1s your man. Actually, to tell the truth I was kind of relieved to see that MacLeod and Nash were obviously not the same person. In the course of my investigations, I1ve discovered he1s a nice guy.ý 3Remember, sociopaths can be extremely charming,ý Mulder pointed out, still not quite willing to let go of his only theory. Bennett studied him for a moment, a touch of annoyance creeping into his expression. 3I1m well aware of that, Agent Mulder.ý Before Mulder could reply, Scully stepped into the conversation. 3It1s very generous of you to offer to share your files, Mr. Bennett. You1d be surprised how rarely local authorities extend such cooperation voluntarily.ý Bennett turned his attention to her, chuckling ruefully. 3I know the feeling. Some sheriff1s departments can be pretty territorial, too. It makes it damned hard to get anything done. Would you like to go down to headquarters, or would you rather check into a hotel first?ý 3We1d like to get started, so if you don1t mind taking us to your office, that would be fine. Perhaps later you can recommend a place for us to stay, something suitable for a government expense account?ý Bennett nodded sympathetically. 3You mean someplace cheap, but without roaches or drunks? I think we can find something that fits the bill. Did either of you check luggage?ý Mulder shook his head, holding out his suit-bag and carryall, as did Scully. Bennett nodded. 3I kinda figured that. Come on, my car1s this way.ý **** 3I still think we should watch him.ý Mulder said, mulishly. 3Mulder, we have no logical reason to suspect this guy!ý Scully returned. 3We1ve gone through Bennett1s files on MacLeod and found nothing there to incriminate him. Not only that, but he gives to charities like a madman, his martial arts school initiated a program to help keep local youth off the streets, he1s an art patron. He just doesn1t fit the profile! And according to Bennett, he hasn1t even been out of town for the past month.ý 3That we know of.ý Mulder corrected her. 3In some ways he doesn1t fit the profile, in others, he does. He1s got money, he does a lot of overseas travel, he knows bladed weapons and how to use them. He wouldn1t be the first killer in history to appear to be a fine, upstanding member of the community. Besides, with those points of similarity, even if he1s not the killer, he still might know something that could be useful.ý Scully sighed. 3Okay, I1ll give you that. Besides... we haven1t got any other suspects.ý She threaded her fingers into her hair and massaged her scalp. 3I1ve got a headache, I need food, what I really need is sleep, but I know I1m not going to get that anytime soon. Can we call the local Bureau office and have them put someone on him so we can at least get food and an hour off?ý Mulder nodded. 3That1s reasonable. I could use food too... maybe a shower. I always feel more awake after a shower.ý Scully closed her eyes and sighed. 3A shower sounds like heaven right now. I1ll go find Bennett and ask him for the name of that motel, you call the office. See if you can get us a car and a map from the motor pool, while you1re at it. We1ll need transportation.ý 3I could use a walk to stretch my legs, why don1t I find Bennett and you can call the office?ý 3Because you1ve antagonized him enough for one day. Honestly, Mulder, for once we get cooperation and you have to make the guy out to be a moron!ý 3I did not!ý 3What about when you lectured him about sociopaths?ý Mulder looked a bit embarrassed. 3Oh. I, um... guess I should say something?ý 3No, let it drop, just don1t do it again, okay?ý He nodded. 3Okay. I guess I1ve got phone duty again. Hand me that phonebook, will you?ý She handed it to him, and left to hunt up Bennett. When she returned a few minutes later Mulder was standing up, coat in hand. 3All set. We can pick up the car whenever we need it. Meanwhile, there1s a place within walking distance that I1ve heard is interesting. Come on, it1ll do us both good to get some fresh air.ý She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and pulled on her own coat. 3I just hope it1s stopped raining.ý It hadn1t, but it had turned to more of a fine mist than true rain. Scully didn1t mind walking in it, in fact, the cool moisture actually felt good on her face, and helped dispel her sleepiness. As they walked, she studied the area, and thought it looked rather industrial. It didn1t look like an area where one would expect to find a restaurant, particularly a well-known one. That got her thinking about how Mulder would have heard of it... and she started to have second thoughts. Mulder was not known for his gourmet leanings. Why would he have heard of a restaurant in Seattle, when he barely knew any in DC? Mulder stopped in front of a building whose gray concrete exterior and frosted glass-block windows made her think of various prisons she1d visited. Her feeling of trepidation grew at the sight of the neon sign which glowed on the side of the building. She was not encouraged by the single word, 3Joe1sý, but gamely followed Mulder into a small, dimly lit... bar. There was no mistaking it for anything else. The lack of food on any of the occupied tables confirmed it. She pulled up short. 3Mulder, this is a bar. I thought we were getting something to eat!ý 3Ah, c1mon Scully, they1re bound to have peanuts or something.ý Mulder headed for the bar where a worn-looking man in his late forties was carrying on an animated conversation with a customer. Scully followed, seething quietly. As they approached, the man broke off his conversation and smiled at them. Seen at closer range, he still looked weathered, but was also quite striking. The silvering in his dark hair and beard made him look rather distinguished, and his eyes were bright with humor and intelligence. 3Can I help you folks?ý If he1d been a woman she would have described him as `whiskey- voiced1, but somehow that seemed too feminine a description for his pleasantly husky voice. 3Coffee.ý Mulder said, then looked back at Scully expectantly. The thought of another cup of coffee turned her stomach, so she tried desperately to think of something a bar might serve that was even remotely food-like. It came to her. 3I1d like a Virgin Mary, please.ý The man nodded, and picked up a cane she hadn1t noticed earlier, then made his way around to the rear of the bar and began to fill their order. Scully guessed he was a double amputee by the way he walked. Turning aside so as not to seem like she was staring, she studied the room instead. The space was spare, almost as industrial as the building1s exterior. The ceiling had been acoustically baffled, though, and a small stage at the front of the room hinted that it was a live-music venue on occasion, though at the moment the stage was unoccupied and the smoky blues playing on the sound- system were pre-recorded. A few tables were occupied, but the place was only half-full. At three in the afternoon, that was hardly surprising. 3Here you go.ý The bartender set their drinks on the counter. Scully1s stomach growled at the sight of the celery stalk that garnished her glass. She felt herself color as the man grinned, reached beneath the counter and came up with a basket of pretzels. 3Sounds like you could use these.ý She smiled and took it. 3Thanks. He promised me food.ý Both the bartender and the guy he1d been talking with laughed at that. Feeling somewhat vindicated Scully took her drink and the pretzels and sat down at a table a few yards from the bar, leaving Mulder to settle the bill. When he joined her a moment later, he reached for the pretzels. She pulled the bowl out of reach and shook her head. 3Uh-unh. Mine. Get your own.ý He shrugged and sipped his coffee, practicing brooding. 3So, spill it. Why are we here, Mulder?ý As he opened his mouth to answer, a young man with close-cropped, curly red hair barrelled noisily into the room. 3Hey, Joe! Did Mac leave my keys with you?ý he called to the bartender from halfway across the room. The man in question rolled his eyes and opened the cash drawer, extracting a set of keys which he tossed to the newcomer. 3Yes, he did. Now get out of here before they close me down for letting in minors.ý It was obvious that he was teasing the kid, because though he did look young, he was clearly over sixteen. The red-head stiffened indignantly. 3I am not...ý He realized, belatedly, that he was being baited and grinned. 3Not nice, Joe! I1ll get you for that!ý With that good-natured threat he turned and dashed back up the stairs. Scully turned to Mulder, eyes narrowed. 3That was the guy in the photograph with MacLeod!ý she hissed. Mulder nodded. 3This place was mentioned in Bennett1s files as one of MacLeod1s hangouts. I thought it wouldn1t hurt to check it out.ý Scully took a vicious bite out of her celery stalk and chewed it with great vigor. 3I hope that1s not me you1re visualizing there,ý Mulder said, looking like he1d rather be somewhere else. She smiled saccharinely. 3Whatever gave you that idea?ý He winced. 3I ah... should have told you. I1m sorry.ý 3For God1s sake, Mulder! You should know better than to pull this kind of crap! We1re partners! You remember how that works, right? You tell me what you1re planning, and I do the same! Get your head out, will you?ý He nodded, avoiding her gaze. 3I don1t know what it is about this case Scully. I feel like I1m stumbling around in the dark. I just can1t seem to get a line on it, can1t make a connection. It1s driving me crazy! I feel like I1m missing something incredibly obvious!ý He drained his cup and sat staring at it disconsolately. Scully felt some of her anger ebb. She knew that feeling all too well. 3I wish we had something more to go on. It1s really frustrating to see part of the pattern, but not know where it started or where it leads.ý 3Exactly,ý Mulder sighed. 3I1m going to get a refill. Want another one of those?ý She shook her head and watched him walk over to the bar and extend his cup to `Joe1, who took it and turned away to fill the cup. She saw Mulder straighten suddenly, and his face became intent. When `Joe1 turned back and handed Mulder the cup, they spoke for a moment, and the bartender shook his head. Mulder shrugged, and returned to the table. 3What was that all about?ý 3He wouldn1t let me pay for the refill.ý 3That1s all? It seemed like you were awfully interested in something over there.ý 3Damn, and here I thought I was so subtle. You1re absolutely right. Our friendly neighborhood barkeep has a tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. I noticed it when he took my cup. Care to guess what it looks like?ý It took a lot of willpower not to turn and look at the man behind the bar, but somehow she managed it. 3A ring containing a kind of y-shaped bar across the lower quarter?ý she asked quietly. 3Bingo! You1re good at guessing games. We should play charades sometime.ý 3Potential victim, then?ý 3Who knows? Maybe they1re all part of some secret society. In any case, considering the link between this place and MacLeod, it seems like maybe I wasn1t wrong about him being a suspect.ý 3Or another potential victim, maybe. Remember, pairs. One with a tattoo, one without.ý Mulder1s head came up and he stared at her. 3That1s it! Scully, that1s it! We need to find out if all the non-tattooed victims had the same sort of abnormal decay patterns as the one in Reno! If so, maybe what we have is a group of test and control subjects!ý Scully stared back. 3What sort of experiment would we be talking about here?ý 3I don1t know. You said the guy in Reno showed abnormal lymph and spleen development. What would that affect?ý Scully thought about it for a moment, frowning. 3Well, commonly there would be two reasons to find lymph nodes and spleen displaying the sort of characteristics we saw there. First would be if the person was fighting off a massive infection, second would be if they had cancer. However, since neither of those things were the case, I am left positing that in Mr. Corben, the resting state of those organs was somehow enhanced, so that if a stress were to come along, his immune system would be better able to deal with it.ý 3Immune system enhancement? I wonder if that1s what it is? In this age of AIDS, it might be worth experimenting with.ý 3I keep up with the literature, Mulder. I would have read about it if the FDA had approved any sort of experimental therapy on human beings.ý 3Only if they were approved. Maybe someone1s eliminating the evidence of unauthorized human trials.ý Scully shook her head. 3That doesn1t make any sense! If they were doing that, they1d do it in a way that wouldn1t attract attention. Something that looked like natural causes, not a series of clear-cut murders!ý Mulder sighed. 3You1re right. Damn. I really thought I had something there.ý 3Still, it wouldn1t hurt to check on similarities. I1ll call around when we get back to the station.ý 3Humoring the crazy man?ý She smiled. 3No. Too many of your hunches have panned out for me to disregard them now.ý Dana saw movement on the stairs that led up to the second entrance to the bar and glanced up, then stared. MacLeod. She recognized him, but she would have stared anyway. The man was just plain stunning. She1d noticed it in the grainy surveillance photo Bennett had shown her, but that had not prepared her for the reality of him. Beautifully proportioned, he had the face of a Renaissance prince; olive-skinned, with full, sensual lips, and dark, bedroom eyes. Even in faded jeans and an old, stretched-out sweater he was remarkable. 3Did Fabio just walk in or what?ý It took her a moment to register what Mulder had said, but finally she did, and her attention snapped back to her partner as she stared at him in horror. He was regarding her with an amused expression, but hadn1t turned around to see what she was looking at, thank goodness. 3Uh... no, our suspect did,ý she said, matter-of-factly, hoping it was dark enough in the bar that he wouldn1t notice her blushing. Mulder sat up straighter. 3MacLeod?ý he asked quietly. 3None other.ý 3What1s he doing?ý 3Going over to the bar. He looks worried.ý Mulder looked at his full cup and swore. 3Damn, why didn1t I wait to get a refill? I could go eavesdrop!ý Scully tipped her glass and finished the last of her drink. 3I1ll go. I need another celery stick anyway.ý She got up and walked toward the bar, placing a supporting pillar between herself and them for a moment to see if she could hear anything. 3...got to thinking that the timing was strange.ý MacLeod was saying. He had an interesting accent, she thought it was Scottish but wasn1t quite sure. He continued, obviously unaware that he was being overheard. 3For her to show up now just seemed too great a coincidence, so I did some checking. It took me two hours of calling around to some of the other musicians just to find her name is Guinan Lawrence. Knowing that, it shouldn1t have been hard to get some hard information on her, but there1s nothing to find! She has no driver1s license, no passport, no social security number, no one knows where she1s from or where she lives. She doesn1t even seem to have a credit history of any kind! It1s like she doesn1t exist!ý 3I can1t believe you1d check up on her like that! That1s pretty damned cold, Mac!ý Joe was clearly angry with MacLeod, and had no qualms about letting him know it. Not the behavior of a man who felt he was threatened. 3Joe, I1m worried about you! And about me, for that matter! With what1s been happening, we can1t take chances! I don1t want to believe anything bad of her either, I like her, a lot, and she seems to be genuine, but what if she1s not? What if it1s her? What if she1s working with Dane?ý 3No, Duncan. I refuse to believe that. I am not that poor a judge of character.ý 3Joe, I have two words for you. James Horton.ý That was met with silence. After a moment Scully decided she1d heard all she was going to, and moved from behind the pillar to set her glass on the countertop. It took a moment for the men to realize she was there. There was enough tension between them to practically electrify the air around them. MacLeod noticed her first, and stepped back. 3I1m sorry, go ahead. We were just talking.ý She nodded. 3I didn1t want to interrupt your conversation, but I would like another drink.ý 3Of course.ý Joe smiled. 3Two celery sticks this time?ý She smiled. 3That would be great!ý He was so pleasant to her that it was hard to believe that moments earlier his manner had been clearly angry. MacLeod stood unmoving, arms crossed in a slightly defensive posture. He remained silent as Joe fixed her drink and put two stalks of celery into it with a flourish. 3Here you go, that1ll be two even. And I1ll throw in some free some advice. Don1t let him get away with being such a cheap date. Make him take you to dinner.ý She shook her head, grinning as she handed him her money. 3He1s not my date, we just work together.ý Joe shook his head in mock disgust. 3Then he1s even dumber than I thought.ý She laughed, delighted by the banter. 3You, sir, are a flirt.ý He grinned back. 3Sometimes.ý 3When he1s not being surly to his friends.ý MacLeod muttered behind her. She pretended she hadn1t heard that and took her drink back to the table. 3Enjoy yourself?ý Mulder asked drily. 3Actually, yes, but I also overheard some interesting things.ý She took a small notepad out of her pocket and jotted down the names she1d overheard. 3Something about they way they talked makes me think they know what1s been happening. They seemed worried, and MacLeod had been checking up on a woman he thought might be a threat. He also mentioned a couple of other names in that context. We can check those out, if nothing else.ý Mulder was frowning. 3They know about the murders?ý 3I can1t say for sure, but MacLeod talked about `what1s been happening1 and `not taking chances1. I suppose he could have been referring to just about anything, but considering the fact that the bartender has the tattoo, it seems logical to assume that they were talking about the murders.ý Mulder nodded, looking distracted. 3Interesting. If they perceive a threat toward themselves as opposed to against someone else...ý he shook his head. 3I hate it when things get complicated. And I still want to know what those tattoos are all about. It1s like it1s some sort of secret club or something!ý He suddenly sat up straight. 3Let1s go back to the station. I need to call someone, and I don1t want to do it from here.ý Scully nodded and finished her drink. 3I wonder if they have a vending machine at the station?ý she said wistfully, digging a five-dollar bill out of her wallet and laying it on the table to cover the tip. 3I still need food.ý 3What, pretzels and celery sticks don1t do it for you?ý She shook her head. 3You owe me lunch, Mulder. No, make it dinner. Seafood, preferably.ý 3After we pick up the car we can stop by a Burger King and get you a Whaler.ý 3Don1t start with me, Mulder, or the next decapitation in Seattle is likely to be yours. With a plastic knife.ý **** In the Dark 4/14 Joe watched the woman finish her drink, and then she and her friend stood to leave. He nodded toward them. 3Pretty lady,ý he commented quietly to Duncan. MacLeod shrugged. 3Was she? I didn1t notice.ý Joe shook his head. 3You must be preoccupied. I1ve never known you not to notice an attractive woman before!ý Duncan smiled a little and studied her covertly as she walked up the stairs. 3She is, isn1t she? Kind of a forties-look, with those lips. The suit1s a bit too staid for her, though.ý 3I don1t know, it seemed okay to me.ý Duncan eyed him, taking in the flannel shirt he wore over an old Harley-Davidson t-shirt, and lifted an eyebrow. 3Fashion wisdom coming from someone who1s gotten into `grunge1 at your age? That1s coming it a bit strong if you ask me.ý 3I haven1t had a chance to do laundry, and these were clean.ý 3You need a maid.ý 3Not on your life! I don1t want anyone poking around in my stuff, thanks. Neither should you, if it comes right down to it. If someone were to find the Watcher files...ý 3Point taken. Speaking of Watchers, any more news?ý Joe nodded grimly. 3This one1s the worst yet, Los Angeles, three days ago, and this time the young woman our man was dating was also killed. She wasn1t even a Watcher, for God1s sake!ý 3Have you heard from Dane1s Watcher yet?ý Joe shook his head. 3No, and I1m starting to worry. Dane could have killed him too.ý 3It1s possible. Three days ago... wasn1t that the same day Dane was seen in northern California? Joe nodded. 3Damn. California isn1t all that far from here. Joe, I think you should start carrying your gun.ý 3What for? It wouldn1t do me any good!ý 3If you can put him down long enough that he has to spend time healing, it should give you the time you need to get away, or even long enough to use your Bowie to make it permanent.ý Joe nodded grimly. 3You have a point.ý 3Have you alerted the other Watchers here?ý Joe nodded. 3I put out a network-wide alert last night, and asked everyone to keep their eyes open for Dane.ý 3Good. I told Richie this morning, and he1s going up to warn Amanda and Michelle. Look, I know I shouldn1t ask this, but will you tell me who the victims are so far? You don1t have to give me the Watcher1s names, but I1d like to know who the Immortals were.ý Joe sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then nodded. 3You1ll find out eventually anyway, but you1re not going to like it.ý He grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen, and began to write. After a moment he handed the list to MacLeod, his mouth set. Duncan took it, ran down the list, and looked up at Joe, his face ashen. 3Joe... these are all students of mine! Every one of them is someone I1ve mentored! Damn it, he1s doing this to get to me!ý Joe nodded. 3I know, Duncan. I realized that last night.ý Duncan looked again at the last name on the list and closed his eyes, leaning against the counter. Kwame Bere. They had been friends since the Civil War, and they1d just spoken a bare three weeks earlier, trying to find time to get together. To his surprise he felt the sting of tears behind his closed eyelids... something he1d not felt in a long time. He remembered Guinan1s words to him the night before and knew she was right. He also felt a stirring of guilt for wondering if she were somehow involved in all this. But how could he not wonder? 3Duncan?ý He straightened and opened his eyes. Joe was watching him, clearly concerned. 3It never gets any easier.ý Duncan said quietly. A moment later the pain was subsumed by anger. 3I want him,ý he said, his voice flat. 3And I1ll have him.ý 3You1d be doing the world a favor, but Mac, can you beat him? He1s taken a lot of Quickenings lately, he could be stronger than you are.ý 3He could be,ý Duncan admitted, then he lifted an eyebrow, 3but I1m better.ý Joe grinned. 3Don1t get cocky.ý 3I1m not. Just confident.ý 3Good.ý Joe looked up at the empty stage for a moment, then back. 3Mac, you don1t really think she1s got anything to do with this, do you?ý Duncan sighed. 3I don1t know what to think. I suppose it1s just barely possible to exist in the world without a paper trail of some sort, but it certainly looks damning from here.ý 3Your own past might look as mysterious to an outsider.ý Joe pointed out reasonably. 3Once, perhaps, but in recent years I1ve always been careful to make an identity trail for every persona I1ve adopted. Joe, I know how to create a paper-trail. I know what a real one looks like and what a fake one looks like, but this is the first time I1ve ever come up against one that was utterly nonexistent! Why?ý 3There could be any number of reasons why someone might use an assumed name. She1s a singer, it could just be her stage name.ý 3True,ý Duncan admitted grudgingly. 3But then why didn1t she tell us her real name?ý 3Why should she? It1s not like we1re long-time friends. We1ve barely met. Who knows? Maybe she likes to play games.ý Was she playing some sort of game? The woman who had helped him through last night1s bout of depression had not struck him as a game- player. Duncan had to acknowledge Joe1s point that they were not close, though after last night, she had seemed so. He wasn1t sure how Joe would feel about the time he1d spent with Guinan, so he didn1t mention it, though in truth there was nothing to hide. Hiding... 3Maybe she1s hiding from someone.ý That idea made him feel marginally better. It was a motivation he could understand. 3She doesn1t seem the type to hide,ý Joe said, dubiously. 3She doesn1t seem the type to play games, either.ý 3True.ý 3Maybe you should just ask her,ý said someone behind them. Duncan spun, startled, to find the woman in question standing not three feet from him, her arms crossed, with an expression that looked suspiciously like amusement on her face. #### Guinan stood at the entrance to the bar and waited for the couple who were coming out. They were a good-looking pair, the woman short, rounded, and red-haired, the man tall, lean and dark. At odds with their looks, they appeared tense, distracted and almost grim. The man studied her as he moved past, his gray-green gaze disturbingly sharp and analytic. She nodded politely as he passed, wondering vaguely why he looked so suspicious. Had she1d met him before? She didn1t think so. They paused a moment beneath the overhang to fasten their coats against the rain, and she caught just a bit of their conversation as she opened the door to the bar. 3...on those autopsy reports from the other killings, and find out if there are any similarities. Who are you going to call?ý the woman was asking her companion. 3An old professor of mine from Oxford. He1s a medieval historian, but he sidelights writing pop books on secret societies like the Templars, the Rosicrucians, that sort of thing. If anyone can identify that tattoo, it1s probably him.ý 3Secret societies, Mulder? That1s a bit farfetched,ý the red-head chided softly, fond amusement in her voice. 3What about this case isn1t?ý the man answered her, then stepped out into the rain. Guinan shivered. Not a pleasant subject at all. No wonder they looked grim. They must be police officers. That would account for the man1s mannerisms. She pushed open the door to the bar and found the atmosphere inside no less somber than that outside. Duncan was at the counter, apparently arguing with Joe, his bright aura dampened by strong emotions. She sighed. So much for the work she1d done with him last night. He was in pain again, and this time there were nuances of fear and anger as well. Joe1s normally calm presence seemed substantially awry as well. She moved closer and listened to them for a moment. After a few sentences she realized with some amusement that they were arguing about her. She had sensed that they were both attracted to her, but this didn1t seem like that sort of alpha-male bickering. She had to admit that she felt rather attracted to both of them, unfortunately no matter what the attraction, one of the first rules of Visitation was that you simply didn1t get involved with the natives that way; which at times was both a damned shame and a real nuisance. However, she thought she ought to break this nonsense up before it got any worse. She moved forward, and stopped just behind them. They didn1t notice. She crossed her arms and waited for them to look up, and they didn1t. Finally, she interrupted their tennis-match of a conversation. 3Maybe you should just ask her,ý she said quietly. Duncan turned, obviously startled. Joe looked just as surprised. It was hard not to be amused by them, but she did manage not to smile. Was that a blush beneath Duncan1s five-o-clock shadow? What had they been discussing? 3Ah... Guinan... hi,ý he stammered, clearly at a loss. 3Hi yourself. So what is it you boys wanted to know?ý she asked deliberately, then the mischief-maker inside her prompted her to go on. 3And no, I don1t do threesomes.ý Duncan exchanged an incredulous look with Joe, and then both of them burst out laughing, a bit nervously, but it was still laughter, and that was a vast improvement. She had to repress a smile at the simultaneous surge of interest she sensed from both of them. Even if she couldn1t act on it, it was still flattering. Males. So predictable, no matter what the species. 3That1s better. But really, what are you so upset about? I1d hate to think all this<ý she waved her hand vaguely in the air, 3atmosphere< was because of me.ý 3No, not at all...ý Joe began 3Well, sort of...ý Duncan said, simultaneously. Guinan sighed. 3I guess I1d better give you two a chance to coordinate your stories, hunh? I1ll be right back.ý She headed off in the direction of the ladies1 room. Her hearing was good enough that she could still hear them from there. She hadn1t been kidding when she said she came from a long line of listeners. 3Well?ý Joe said, after a moment. 3Well what?ý Duncan responded, sounding somewhat churlish. 3Are you going to ask her?ý 3Ask her what, for God1s sake? `Oh, by the way, are you somehow connected to this fiend who1s been murdering my friends1? What sort of cretin do you think I am? I don1t want to suspect her, I just don1t know what to think after what I found out.ý The shock that went through her at Duncan1s words kept her from hearing Joe1s response. Murder? Well, that certainly explained the conversation she1d overheard outside the bar. But why would he think she might be involved? What could she have done to make him think such a thing? A wave of hurt surged through her, then she managed to push it back. He had followed the thought with an expression of concern. Whatever his suspicions, he was obviously disturbed by them. Feeling rather subdued, she went back out and joined them, looking from one unquestionably uncomfortable male to the other. 3So,ý she started, knowing she would have to be the one to initiate this conversation. 3Something1s wrong, and it has to do with me. What is it?ý 3It1s< hard to explain,ý Duncan said, having trouble meeting her gaze. 3Try. You know I1ll listen, you know I won1t judge.ý She gazed at him until he met her eyes. He looked into them a moment, then nodded. He thought for a moment, then began. 3Remember the man I told you about last night?ý Joe did a rapid double take at Duncan, who was watching Guinan and missed it. 3Go on,ý she said, keeping her voice carefully even. 3I think he may be killing again, killing friends of mine.ý She stiffened, outraged. 3And you think that I...ý she began, only to have him interrupt immediately. 3No! I don1t! I don1t want to, anyway. But... Guinan, who are you? You1re a mystery!ý She went cold. He knew. Nonsense, he couldn1t know. She took a deep breath. 3I don1t understand.ý 3Because of what1s happened, I started to wonder about you, about the timing. I asked some questions about you, and found nothing. You have no past. It1s like you never existed until we met you. Who are you? What are you doing here?ý Relief washed through her, intense and ecstatic. 3Is that all?ý Both of them looked surprised by her response. 3What?ý Duncan asked. 3Is that all you1re worried about?ý 3Well, yes.ý He admitted warily. She gave a silent prayer of thanks to a divinity this world had never created for having had the foresight to create a background that people could actually check out. It hadn1t been all that hard, the computer systems on Earth were no match for hers, even though she1d never expected to have to use it. She glanced around and leaned forward confidentially. 3Well, I will tell you who I am, and what I1m doing here, but you have to promise not to tell Danny or the other guys.ý 3Danny? The guys?ý Duncan asked, blankly. 3Danny1s the saxman in the band. I1m a cultural anthropologist, and I1m working on the subculture of jazz and blues musicians. If the guys find out who, or rather, what I am, it would skew my research. My real name is Guinan El-Aurian, you can check that out if you like. I guess I can1t blame you for being suspicious, with someone like that psycho hunting you.ý 3Anthropologist?ý Joe asked, looking a bit stunned. 3El-Aurian?ý Duncan asked. 3No wonder I didn1t find anything under `Lawrence.1ý She nodded. 3I1m sorry I didn1t tell you earlier, it just never occurred to me that it might cause a problem.ý Duncan leaned against the counter with a sigh, his big body going almost boneless. 3I canna tell you how relieved I am.ý 3Sure you can. In fact, I1d like to hear it.ý 3Why don1t I show you instead?ý he asked, and without warning enveloped her in a hug. She was startled, and momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer presence of him, then she managed to slam down her mental dampers and stop wallowing in him. Her nose was about even with his sternum. She hadn1t realized that he was quite so... tall. Or was it that she was short? She patted him on the back in what she hoped was a friendly fashion, managing somehow not to move her hands down to a slightly lower portion of his anatomy, then stepped back. 3That1s better.ý She looked over at Joe expectantly. 3Well?ý He grinned and hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a hug. Joe was a couple of inches shorter than Duncan, but not a lot, her nose came just about to the same place on him. Before he let her go, he planted a quick kiss on her mouth. Duncan frowned, crossing his arms on his chest. 3Not fair, Joe.ý Duncan said, shanking his head. 3Don1t be such an old fogey, Duncan.ý Joe returned, with peculiar emphasis. 3I1m not!ý 3Are too.ý Joe retorted, chuckling, loosening his arms from around her. A good deal more flustered than she ought to be, Guinan quickly stepped out of reach of both of them, clearing her throat, still feeling the imprint of lips on her own. 3Well, I... ah...ý she stammered, not really sure what it was she wanted to say. 3Are you sure you don1t want to reconsider that rule?ý She blinked at Duncan. 3Excuse me? What rule?ý He grinned. 3The one about no threesomes.ý 3Duncan!ý Joe exclaimed in scandalized tones that she could tell were utterly fake even without using a smidgeon of empathy. She giggled, and put a hand over her mouth, horrified. Giggles? At her age? Tai1ai1la, these two were dangerous! 3That is quite enough,ý she managed to say sternly. 3I am not that kind of girl!ý 3Oh? What kind are you?ý Duncan inquired ingenuously. She tried, she really tried not to laugh, but she couldn1t. She had to sit down because she was laughing so hard she couldn1t breathe. Joe went behind the bar and poured a glass of water, then handed it to Duncan who passed it to her. She managed to drink it, and came up gasping, but not laughing any more. When she1d finally recovered enough to speak, she looked from one to the other of them, shaking her head. 3Maybe I should be doing my thesis on bartenders and their friends.ý They exchanged one of those looks that maddened her, because she knew damned well they were hiding something, then Joe shrugged nonchalantly. 3It wouldn1t be a very interesting study.ý Duncan nodded. 3Boring, in fact.ý Guinan sighed. 3I wish I could remember why I like you two.ý 3Probably my dashing manner,ý Joe said. 3And my butt.ý Duncan added, eyes on the ceiling, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he desperately tried to keep a straight face. She giggled again and stood up, decisively. 3Okay, that1s it! I1m getting out of here before I do something I1ll regret. When I come back, I expect the two of you to behave yourselves!ý She fled the bar, trying to remember why on earth she1d gone in there in the first place. It didn1t come back to her. A few steps down the street a sudden odd sensation swept over her and she stopped, looking around. What was it? That... feeling, almost like what she sensed when Duncan was present, but at the same time so, so different. She shuddered, and hurried on toward her car. Whatever it was, she didn1t like it at all. **** 3That one.ý 3Her?ý 3Yes.ý 3Why?ý 3Because she means something to him. To both of them.ý 3But I...ý 3It has to have meaning or it won1t do anything for you, I1ve told you that before, haven1t I?ý 3Yes. Her, then.ý 3Perhaps others. We1ll see.ý 3When?ý 3Soon.ý **** Mulder sat in the in the local FBI superintendent1s office, making airplanes out of paper from the recycling bin, and waiting for the phone to ring. It was the middle of the night in Oxford, he hoped Professor Drexler and whoever he was rousting out of bed to turn on a fax machine would forgive him for this. If it weren1t so damned important, he would have waited until it was a reasonable hour there, but he couldn1t afford any delays. He never had understood the European habit of turning off fax machines at night. What was the point of having one if you didn1t leave it on? Scully poked her head in the door, smiling. 3Yates is making a deli run, want something?ý 3He1s a saint!ý Mulder said, grinning, 3I want a pastrami and swiss on rye, please! Have you got those sketches ready?ý She nodded. 3One more set coming through as we speak, once I1ve got that one, we1re set. You have a fax number yet?ý He shook his head. 3Still waiting.ý She smiled encouragingly. 3Hopefully not much longer, though. Let me know. Oh, and guess what...ý 3What?ý 3It looks like you were right. So far I1ve contacted eight of the coroners who1ve worked on these killings, and all the untattooed corpses show unusual rates of decay. All the tattooed ones seem to be normal, for whatever that1s worth. I1m going to go put in our orders.ý She ducked out again, leaving him alone with his airplanes. His cellular shrilled at him, and he grabbed it, extending the antenna. 3Mulder.ý 3Hey Mulder, it1s Tony.ý For a second he didn1t place the voice, because he was expecting a cultured British accent, not a downtown Philadelphian one. 3Tony? Oh, Tony! What1s up, man?ý 3You wanted me to research the ID on that corpse in Reno, right? Well, I just finished the search, and your suspicions panned out. The real Frederick Corben died back in 1961, a few days after he was born. Whoever this is, he ain1t Corben, but he< or someone anyway, has been using this ID for a long time. I found a social security number issued to him in 1964.ý Mulder stared blankly at the wall. The man who had died in Reno would have been three years old in 1964. Why would someone have gotten a three year old a social security card? Giving children social security numbers wasn1t common practice back then. Strange. 3Tony, keep checking on him. In fact, check out the ID1s of the some of the other victims too, especially the ones who didn1t have tattoos.ý 3You1ve got it. I1ll let you know if I find anything else.ý 3Thanks.ý He thumbed off the cellular and set it on the desk, then stared over at the desk phone as if he could make it ring. 3A watched phone never boils,ý he muttered to himself. Scully came back in, holding a stack of loose papers. 3Here1s what I1ve been able to find on that James Horton guy MacLeod mentioned, and also on the bartender. His name1s Joe Dawson, and the only thing in this file is a car accident about fifteen years ago... and he wasn1t even at fault. It was a drunk driver. His wife and daughter were killed. There1s an interesting connection there, though. James Horton was his brother-in-law.ý 3Was he driving?ý 3No, he apparently wasn1t involved in that, but Horton did have some pretty strange stuff in his file. I had to get a bunch of it from Interpol, apparently he ran some sort of international corporation, and was suspected of arms trading, among other things. He was found dead in a river in Paris about a year and a half ago. Shot to death, but get this... according to the autopsy he had recently recovered from what appeared to be a sword wound.ý Mulder frowned. 3Swords again! What1d these guys do, piss off a medievalist?ý Scully shrugged. 3Could be a Tong thing, some of the gangs in Pacific Rim countries still use swords.ý 3True. And if Horton was an arms dealer there could be connections to organized crime all over the place.ý 3I1ve asked for more information on him, we1ll see if anything else turns up. I1m going to go back out to see if my last fax has come in yet.ý 3What about the woman they mentioned, or the other man?ý 3Guinan Lawrence?ý Scully shook her head. 3I1ve had as little success there as Mr. MacLeod apparently did. I haven1t come up with a scrap using that name. I don1t know whether that1s suspicious or not. They mentioned something about her and musicians, so it could be a stage name I suppose. I just wish I had some sort of description of her. As for the other name, it was just a single name and I don1t even know if it1s a first or last. That makes it kind of tough to check out.ý Mulder nodded, frustrated. 3Thanks for doing all the legwork on this, by the way.ý Scully nodded. 3Next time it1s your turn.ý The phone rang, and Mulder picked it up as Scully left the room. 3Mulder.ý 3Hello, Mr. Mulder.ý This time the accent was right. 3Dr. Drexler! Did you find someone with a working fax?ý 3I did, though I1ll probably have to buy them a bottle of sherry in return for waking them up at this hour. Here1s the number,ý he rattled off a number which Mulder scrawled onto one of his paper airplanes. Stretching out the phone-cord unmercifully, he went to the door, and looked out into the bullpen. Spotting Scully, he waved at her until she looked up, and then sent the airplane sailing over to her. She looked startled, but caught it and saw the number, and nodded. She picked up a folder and started to dial a number on the fax machine. 3My partner is sending the information through to you as we speak, and if you send me the bill for that sherry, I1ll reimburse you.ý 3I shall. What1s this about, Fox?ý 3I can1t say, really, but it has to do with a case. These tattoos are just about the only clue we1ve been able to come up with so far. There1s no record of anything similar to them in our cult activity files, but they looked like something a secret society might use. Naturally, I thought of you.ý 3Naturally?ý Drexler sounded amused. 3My hobby made that big an impression on you? I had always wondered why you stuck it out in my classes.ý 3You were the best, why else?ý 3Well, I thought perhaps it had something to do with that young woman who usually sat in the front row.ý Mulder chuckled ruefully. 3I1d have been better off paying more attention to you and less to her, as it turned out.ý 3Well, that1s always gratifying for a teacher to hear. Ah, here we are, the fax is coming through now. Let me see here...ý There was silence for a few moments broken only by the distant rustle of paper. Finally Mulder broke the silence. 3Well? Have you seen these before?ý 3I1m afraid I have, but I don1t think what I can tell you will be of much use. I think someone may be playing a game with you.ý 3Why? What are they?ý 3These symbols belong to a mythical group known as `The Watchers.1 Have you read any of the `Witch1 books by that woman who writes all those vampire novels?ý Mulder frowned, puzzled. 3Yeah, why?ý 3Do you recall the secret organization she invented, the ones who watched the witch family?ý 3Yes.ý 3These `Watchers1 are similar, in that they were supposedly organized hundreds of years ago in order to observe certain unusual individuals and keep accounts of their activities.ý 3Unusual individuals? What sort of unusual individuals?ý 3Here is where the story takes a detour into fantasy, Mr. Mulder. These `unusual individuals1 are supposedly immortals.ý 3Immortals? As in, they can1t die?ý 3Not under most circumstances, no. They don1t seem to become ill, and your `everyday1 lethal wounds simply heal. They can be permanently killed only one way. Decapitation.ý Mulder almost dropped the phone. 3What did you say?ý 3They can be killed by decapitation. According to legend, these beings practice a kind of trial-by-combat ritual wherein the winner gains a sort of mystical energy that is released when the loser dies. Really dies, that is, as opposed to temporarily dying.ý 3This is incredible!ý 3I did tell you that it was rather fantastical. I1m sorry I haven1t been more helpful.ý 3No, Professor, you1ve given me exactly the information I needed. I can1t thank you enough!ý Mulder hung up, and sat staring at the phone until Scully poked her head in the door. 3Well? Did he have anything?ý 3Yes... but I1m not sure what to make of it. It1s pretty bizarre.ý Scully1s eyes widened. 3You think it1s bizarre? I1m all ears!ý She pulled out a chair and sat down, looking at him expectantly. He explained briefly, and by the end of the explanation, she was scowling. 3You don1t really expect me to believe that, do you? Besides, they1re either immortal or they1re not. If they can be killed, they1re not immortal. They may be pretty resistant, but they1re not immortal.ý 3Hell, Scully, I don1t believe it, why should you? And I didn1t name them, either. However, if Professor Drexler knew this information, it1s a safe bet that other people do too. There may be a group of people who1ve been playing at being these... immortals, and watchers, it may explain what1s been happening. Someone1s gone over the edge and is trying to make fantasy a reality.ý She nodded, eyes distant. 3That makes sense. Kind of like those Dungeon and Dragons scares back in the O801s.ý Mulder sighed. 3No, not at all like that. Didn1t you know that whole thing was just media hype? We1re not talking about a bunch of kids playing games, or weekend re-creationists here. These are adults, and they1re deadly serious about this, or at least some of them are. I think it1s time to talk to MacLeod, and that bartender, what was his name? Oh yeah, Dawson. We can split up and each take one of them. They must know about this, but they1re probably reluctant to go to the police because of the more bizarre aspects of this case.ý 3Which reminds me, I just got back the ID1s on the last month1s worth of long-distance phone bills from Kwame Bere, one of the men who were killed in Los Angeles. Guess whose number showed up twice?ý 3MacLeod1s?ý 3Exactly. The last call was about three weeks ago.ý 3So, does that put him back to being a suspect, or is he still a potential victim?ý Scully shook her head. 3I don1t know, Mulder. I just don1t know.ý Mulder hauled a quarter out of his pocket. 3Heads or tails?ý 3Gambling1s illegal in most states, Mulder. If I1m going to break the law, I1d at least like to know what I1m gambling on.ý He grinned. 3Dawson or MacLeod.ý She grinned back. 3Tails.ý He spun the coin and caught it, then slapped it onto his hand. 3Tails it is.ý She smiled. 3Good.ý He looked up, lifting an eyebrow. 3Good? Why good?ý Did he imagine it or did she look a little discomfited by his question? 3Because I1m curious about this Immortal thing, and I want a closer look. Maybe there1s some sort of physical abnormality I can spot.ý That sounded reasonable, but remembering the man in the bar, and looking at her, he felt a sudden trepidation. 3Now that I think about it, maybe it1s not such a good idea to split up. Maybe I should go with you.ý 3Nonsense, Mulder, why? Time is of the essence and we can cover more ground this way. Are you afraid he1ll hurt me?ý 3He is a lot bigger than you are. He1s an expert in martial arts... he could be dangerous.ý 3I thought we agreed he1s not a suspect.ý 3You agreed. I only agreed that it seems likely he1s not, but the possibility is still there. You could get hurt.ý She crossed her arms, chin lifting. She clearly sensed a battle. 3Who is it that1s always getting beat up, me or you? You never know when a bartender will get mean... you could be in a lot of danger yourself.ý He had to acknowledge her point. The score was definitely weighted in his direction. He made a disgusted face. 3You would point that out. Tell you what, I1ll watch out for Dawson1s cane and the liquor bottles, if you promise to watch out for Mr. Fists of Fury. If he really is immune to gunshot, you could be in trouble.ý 3I1ve got my trusty Swiss Army knife. If anything happens I1ll aim for the throat.ý Mulder had to smile at that, and raised his hands in defeat. 3Fine, go on, but be careful, Scully.ý She nodded. 3You too, Mulder. One other thing... remember you1ve got the cellular this time, and don1t go haring off without telling me!ý 3I promise.ý She nodded and left the room, keys in hand. He realized he1d have to commandeer a second vehicle. Oh well. **** In the Dark 5/14 Standing in the doorway of DeSalvo1s Martial Arts, waiting for the class to end, Scully was trying hard not to stare. It wasn1t every day she was treated to a spectacle like watching Duncan MacLeod work out. The man moved like a panther, all sleek, dark grace and power. He also seemed to have pretty infinite patience. You1d have to, working with a class full of ten- year-olds. Watching his manner with the kids, it was hard to imagine him as either a victim or an aggressor. She could see him in a fight, yes, but never one he1d picked. She winced as one of the kids caught him just above the knee with a kick that was hard enough to stagger him a little. A few inches higher and that would have been damned unpleasant, she imagined. He didn1t react angrily, but rather took the kid aside and showed her how to correctly execute the move. She got it, and returned to the group, beaming proudly. 3Can I help you?ý someone asked from behind her. Startled, she turned to find a man in a gi standing next to her. 3I1m here to see Mr. MacLeod.ý 3Why am I not surprised?ý the man said, grinning. 3Why don1t you wait in his office?ý He pointed to the glassed-in cubicle across the room. 3Is that okay? I didn1t want to interrupt the class.ý 3Just don1t walk on the mats and you1ll be fine.ý She nodded and stepped into the room, wishing her heels didn1t make quite so much noise on the wooden floor. She saw MacLeod look up as she crossed the room, and a slight frown drew vertical lines between his heavy eyebrows. He was trying to place her. She wondered if he would remember her from the bar. She slipped into the office and sat down, looking around. The room was neat, disciplined. Not too surprising, she thought, for someone who taught a craft whose very essence was discipline. The only threat to order in the room were a mug of cold coffee, and a small book which lay open on the desk. She looked at the book, and her eyebrows lifted. Novalis1 Hymns to the Night. Interesting choice of reading material. She picked up the book and read a few lines, 3As life1s innermost soul it1s breathed by the giant-world of restless stars, and swims dancing in its blue tide< the glittering stone breathes it, the peaceful plant and the animal1s so many formed, Ever moved force< Many-colored clouds and breezes breathe it, and above all that splendid stranger with sensuous eyes, with gliding gait and with sounding mouth.ý Abruptly she put it back down, feeling that the poem was far too well suited to the thoughts she1d been thinking as she watched him. `Splendid stranger1 indeed. Maybe she should have let Mulder talk to MacLeod. Was she going to be able to be objective? She looked into the work-out area, and saw the kids lining up in front of him. He had his back to her. They bowed, then he bowed. She studied the view. Nice. Realizing what she was doing, she looked away as the kids began to file toward the stairs. The dressing rooms must be up there. Apparently class was over. MacLeod turned and looked at her, still seeming a bit puzzled. He must not have recognized her. He took a step toward the office, then stopped, shot her an apologetic glance and held up a finger, obviously indicating that he1d be with her shortly, and disappeared up the stairs. She tapped her toes and played with the handle on her briefcase, then glanced around. Seeing no one watching, she picked up the rolodex on the desk and looked through it. Bere, Kwame. There it was. She checked for some of the other names. Frederick Corben wasn1t there, nor were several others, but near the end of the alphabet she found another one. Natalia Tsilkovski. That couldn1t be a coincidence. Out of the corner of her eye she caught movement on the stairs and she put the rolodex down quickly, nudging it into place with a fingertip, her pulse racing. It was just a kid. She relaxed a bit, but didn1t pick up the file again. It wouldn1t look very professional for him to catch her snooping through his things. She glanced at the clock. He1d been in there six minutes now... what was he doing? A steady stream of kids were now clomping down the stairs, and being picked up by their parents. Still no MacLeod. Several adult men came out and began to warm up. She sighed, eyeing the rolodex again. Finally she picked up the book and began to read again. 3Do you like him?ý a voice asked. It was nice voice, a rich, warm, baritone, with a noticeable United Kingdom accent. She looked up, startled, into curious dark-brown eyes. She put the book down. His hair was damp, and he had changed out of his white gi into snug jeans and an equally snug t-shirt. That explained what he1d been doing. Trying not to ogle him too obviously, she realized he was still waiting for a reply, and attempted one. 3Um... yes, though to be honest I haven1t read it since my college days. One of my history professors used this book in a class on nineteenth century Europe.ý 3Good choice, it1s very evocative of the period, though it1s very early.ý He held out his hand. 3I1m sorry to have kept you waiting, but I figured I1d be less offensive if I showered. I1m Duncan MacLeod, what can I do for you?ý She stood up, assuming a more professional stance as she drew out her identification and extended it toward him. 3Agent Dana Scully, FBI. I have a few questions I need to ask you.ý He looked startled, and let his hand fall. 3FBI?ý She nodded. 3What1s this about, then?ý 3Were you acquainted with a man named Kwame Bere?ý His color faded, and the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. 3Yes. He was an old friend.ý 3Was? So you1ve heard about his death?ý He nodded. 3I heard last night.ý He closed his eyes, drawing a ragged breath. 3I couldn1t believe it. Not after...ý 3After?ý she prompted. He shook his head. 3Nothing, really. It1s just that we were planning to get together. I1d spoken to him just a few weeks ago. We were going to do some fishing.ý He picked up the coffee cup and made a face at the contents, then suddenly looked back at her, the shock of recognition in his eyes. 3Joe1s! That1s where I saw you before!ý She nodded. 3Yes.ý 3You were checking me out?ý 3It was my partner1s idea. I thought it was rather pointless.ý 3D1you think I had something...ý 3We have to investigate all angles.ý He nodded. 3I understand. What else did you want to ask me?ý 3Were you aware that a woman named Natalia Tsilkovski was also murdered last week? In much the same manner as Mr. Bere?ý He looked at her, the sadness in his eyes so intense that she felt the sting of tears in her own. 3Yes.ý The single word was whispered hoarsely. 3Do you have any reason to believe that the two deaths might be connected?ý He hesitated, clearly trying to find a way out of answering the question. She was surprised at how expressive his face was. For some reason she1d expected him to be better at concealing his emotions. When he spoke, it was tonelessly. 3I don1t know. Possibly, I suppose.ý She opened her briefcase and removed a sketch of one of the victim1s tattoos from it. 3Have you ever seen this symbol before?ý He was good, she1d give him that. His expression didn1t change, though his eyes narrowed a tiny bit. He studied it for a long moment. 3It looks like kind of like the hood ornament off a Mercedes.ý It did. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. 3You1ve never seen it anywhere else?ý 3I don1t know, I might have.ý She gave him another point. He didn1t want to lie, so he was attempting misdirection. 3Do you know anyone with this tattoo?ý He looked at it again. 3That one? No.ý Score one more. Literalism. She had to admire his style. 3Do you know anyone with a tattoo which resembles this sketch?ý she clarified. He was caught. His eyes met hers, rueful acceptance in their depths. 3Yes.ý She nodded. 3I appreciate your candor. Mr. MacLeod...ý 3Duncan.ý he urged, interrupting her. 3Mr. MacLeod,ý she repeated, insisting on the distance that formality put between them. 3Are you aware of the significance of that tattoo?ý 3I1m not sure I know what you mean.ý 3Have you ever heard of an organization known as The Watchers?ý That got him. He sucked in a breath, clearly startled. Seconds later he realized he1d betrayed himself, and the muscles along his jaw flexed. His gaze pinned her uncomfortably. 3Have you?ý he asked. She didn1t pretend not to understand. He was asking what she knew about The Watchers. She nodded, and saw his fists clench. He really was nervous about this. She tried to read his body language, his face... she didn1t see guilt. Apprehension, pain and anger, yes, but not guilt. 3Mr. MacLeod, do you have anything you1d like to tell me about Mr. Bere1s death, or Ms. Tsilkovski1s? We1re here to help.ý He turned back, clearly startled. 3Help us?ý 3We help whoever needs it.ý He smiled an odd, secretive smile. 3I see.ý For some reason that annoyed her, but she tried not to let it show. 3Good. Then perhaps you1d like to make a statement?ý He shook his head. 3No, I don1t think so. I doubt that you1d believe me if I did, anyway.ý She laughed. 3I wouldn1t bet on that. Not after some of the cases I1ve been involved with over the last couple of years.ý He studied her for a long moment, obviously curious, and finally lifted an eyebrow. 3That sounds like a challenge, Ms. Scully.ý 3Take it as you like.ý He smiled. 3Bravo, you play the game well. But I still can1t tell you what you want to know.ý Frustration got the best of her for a moment. 3Damn it, people are dead!ý 3Don1t you think I know that?ý MacLeod rasped harshly, pacing the floor like a restless bear. 3Most of them were friends of mine! He1s doing this because of me!ý 3Who is?ý She saw the answer form on his lips, he almost spoke it aloud, then he stopped and shook his head. 3I can1t. It1s my responsibility. I have to stop him. You can1t.ý 3It certainly is not your responsibility. Once this serial killer crossed state lines, his crimes came under Federal purview. I assure you, Mr. MacLeod, if we can find out who he is, we can stop him. Tell me his name.ý 3It would do you no good. He has hundreds.ý 3A description then.ý 3A man, like any other, but unlike any other.ý He started to pace. 3You know of the Watchers, but do you know what they watch?ý She studied him, noticing the tension in him, the leashed anger. She was glad it wasn1t directed at her. Something about the heavy line of his neck and shoulder made her think of that corpse in Reno, the peculiar lymphatic system. While it could merely be muscle, such bulk could just as easily be the result of oversized and overabundant lymph nodes. That clicked with what Mulder had told her. Overactive immune system. Atypical nerve development. Bones that healed from impossible fractures. A man who talked, walked, and gambled when he should have been institutionalized at best, and more likely buried. Things were adding up that weren1t supposed to. Slowly she nodded. 3We know.ý His eyes held her. 3But do you believe?ý She phrased her answer carefully. 3Do I believe that a group of humans exist whose super-efficient immune systems and remarkable recuperative powers make them virtually immortal, and that they have been tracked through the ages by a secret society, and that members of both groups are now in danger from a single individual?ý She sighed. 3Sometimes, no matter how improbable something appears, I would like to believe, but I1m a doctor, Mr. MacLeod, a scientist. Without clearcut and irrefutable evidence, that1s difficult for me. However, sometimes, especially under circumstances like these, all that matters is that someone believes it.ý He slouched back against the wall and studied her for long enough that she started to get uncomfortable, then finally he spoke. 3Only one of us can stop him. I can1t involve you. It1s too dangerous.ý 3It1s my job.ý 3He1d kill you without a second thought.ý 3He could try.ý He shook his head. 3You don1t know what you1re dealing with.ý 3Then tell me!ý 3I can1t!ý he said, clearly frustrated. They stared at each other, in a standoff. The phone rang, startling both of them. MacLeod picked it up. 3DeSalvo1s, this is MacLeod.ý He listened a moment, and his face changed, becoming focused and intent, like a predator. She was almost shocked by the transformation. Seconds later the mask was back in place, and putting his hand over the mouthpiece, he turned to her. 3Would you excuse me? This is personal.ý Though she wanted desperately to hear what the call was about, she had no excuse to stay. She nodded and stepped out of the office. He closed the door behind her and turned away to speak so she couldn1t try to read his lips. Reading his posture was something else again; she knew she was watching a man who was coldly furious. His responses to the caller were low-voiced, though, so she could not hear a thing. He hung up the phone carefully, and she watched him scrawl something down on a notepad, and for a moment she had hopes of trying the old impression trick to find out what he1d written, but he pocketed the note and the pad as well. When he opened the office door and stepped out, his `public1 face was back, but his eyes were distant. 3I1m sorry, Ms. Scully, but something1s come up. If you have any other questions for me I1d be happy to meet with you later to discuss them.ý She gritted her teeth. 3I do have other questions, Mr. MacLeod, and I1d like to ask them now.ý 3I1m sorry, this can1t wait, I1ve got to go.ý She stared at him, eyes narrowed. 3Is it him?ý He lifted an eyebrow. 3Would I tell you if it were?ý 3Damn it, you can1t...ý she began. His other eyebrow went up this time, and a hint of a smile curved his mouth. 3Tsk, tsk, Agent Scully, such language. Am I under arrest?ý 3No,ý she managed through gritted teeth. 3Then I can go?ý She sighed. 3Yes. But I do want to see you after you do... whatever it is you need to do. Here1s my card, don1t lose it. You can reach me on the cellular any time.ý 3I1ll call you in an hour or so, Agent Scully.ý She nodded and moved toward the door, thinking that he seemed awfully certain of that. Maybe he wasn1t going off to find his nemesis; either that, or he was extremely confident of winning. She remembered his movements in class, and the look on his face when he1d answered the phone, and thought he might have good reason to be confident. She stopped in the doorway to the dojo and looked back to see him enter the old-fashioned elevator in the corner of the room. She wondered where it led. Descending the stairs in front of the building she turned and studied it. It looked like it had probably started life as a school sometime in the early nineteen-hundreds, and at some point been converted to private use. She knew the dojo took up almost all the second floor, and the first appeared to house small shops, but that left the two upper stories. She set her briefcase on the hood of the car, pulled out the file on MacLeod and looked up his home address. Sure enough, it was the same. He lived up there. It occurred to her that she might be able to get away with following him when he left. She checked the file and found he drove a black O65 Thunderbird convertible. She grinned. That wasn1t exactly an inconspicuous car, it should be a snap to follow. She got into her car and drove around behind the building. Sure enough, there it was, parked just a few steps from the back door. She backed her car up behind a tree, and waited. MacLeod emerged a few minutes later, wearing a long brown trenchcoat and carrying a gym bag. She eyed the bag suspiciously. It was a big bag, big enough to conceal a rifle... or perhaps a sword. He pulled out of the parking place and entered traffic. She let two cars pass her before she edged her own car out. She followed him for about six blocks, and he made a left turn. She waited a moment, then followed. He drove several more blocks, then made another left. She followed him through two more left turns, and suddenly he was pulling back into the parking spot he1d just left. She passed him and found a spot down the block to watch from, wondering if he1d forgotten something. He got out and went back into the building. She waited, impatiently glancing at her watch, wondering what he was doing. A tap at the window nearly sent her through the roof, and looked up into MacLeod1s amused face. He must have gone out the front of the building and walked around the block to come up behind her. He motioned for her to roll down the window, and she complied. 3Did you forget something, Agent Scully?ý 3No, I was... waiting for a call from my partner.ý He grinned. 3Well then, I1ll let you wait in peace. You do realize, don1t you, that I1ve more experience at being followed than you could possibly imagine.ý She sighed. 3You1ve made your point, Mr. MacLeod.ý 3Good. I1ll see you in an hour or so.ý He walked back to his car, got in, and drove away. Feeling like seven different kinds of idiot, she leaned her head against the steering wheel, face hot with embarrassment. Finally she managed to unclench her fists, muttering to herself under her breath. 3Way to go, Scully! Spotted like some ignorant trainee! If he1d been the killer, you1d be dead!ý She sighed, and started the car, glanced at the map and headed back the way she1d come. **** Halfway home, Guinan again felt that something-crawling-out-from- under-a-rock sensation she1d gotten outside the bar. She shivered despite the fact that her brisk walk had made her feel a bit warm. Whatever it was, she didn1t want to meet it in a dark alley, and the day was darkening quickly. She quickened her pace. She1d never felt unsafe here before. Capitol Hill was a maze of narrow streets bordered by a mixture of old Victorian houses, 19501s bungalows, and modernist architectural edifices. Most of her neighbors were young people on the edge, but not so far on the edge as to be dangerous to anyone but themselves. She1d always liked the energy and tension of her surroundings, but today, for some reason, it made her nervous. She drew her jacket closer around herself and looked up the street. Only three blocks to go. She relaxed a little and drew a deeper breath, wishing that other feeling would go away. She noticed an expensive sports car parked half a block away. The windows were darkened, so she couldn1t tell if it was occupied, but the feeling seemed to emanate from it. She slowed, unwilling to walk by it, but not having much choice. She squared her shoulders and forged ahead. Nothing happened as she passed it. Feeling silly, she shook her head at her fantasies, when a man stepped out from behind a tree a few feet in front of her. He looked harmless enough, a good-looking blond guy in his early thirties, wearing a nice suit. He did look rather out of place here, though, where most of the denizens wore leather and multiple body-piercings. Maybe he was just lost. 3Can I help you?ý she asked him, smiling helpfully . He shook his head, and began to walk forward. 3No, thanks.ý She backed up, keeping her distance. 3What do you want?ý She pitched her voice hard, putting control notes into it. He faltered momentarily. The creepy sensation seemed to grow stronger behind her as she neared the car again, then a voice spoke in her ear, a smooth, European- sounding tenor. 3Why, we want you, my dear.ý Pain exploded through the back of her head and her knees buckled. The man who1d spoken caught her and began to drag her toward the car. She struggled wildly, but the blow had left her dazed and uncoordinated. She bit the blond viciously on the wrist as they tried to shove her into the vehicle, and he swore, then slapped her across the face so hard that her vision hazed over. By the time it returned, she was in the car. Her hands had been bound together with some sort of heavy silvery tape, and there was something in her mouth preventing her from talking. Damn, that was her best defense! With her vocal control she could manipulate almost any human. Unwilling to just lie back and let herself be taken, she kicked out at the blond who sat beside her, and he grabbed her feet and wrapped the silver tape around her ankles as well. She subsided, fuming, wishing her developing mindways were more advanced. She could use a little coercive ability right now. Satisfied that she was going to leave him alone, he settled back, shoving his sleeve up so he could examine his wrist where she1d bitten it. Her eyes fastened on the mark there, and widened. Joe had the same tattoo on his wrist! Was he somehow involved in this? The second she thought it, she dismissed it. No, he wasn1t involved, but there was a connection. There was only one thing that made any sense. The feeling she got from the man driving the car was eerily similar to the overwhelming sense of presence she felt in Duncan; only this man1s aura was dark rather than brilliant... a black hole instead of a living star. Duncan had spoken of an old enemy. She knew this had to be Tanner Dane. She didn1t know who his companion was, no associate had figured in Duncan1s story, nor did this second man have that same powerful immanence that the other gave off. He was an accomplice, but one who was no longer fully in control of himself after being sucked in by the gravitational whirlpool of Dane1s dark personality. She realized the two of them were planning to use her as a lure. Remembering Duncan1s story, she felt nauseated< she knew she couldn1t face that, nor could she allow herself to be used as bait. Dane didn1t know her kind, though, he didn1t understand how far she would go rather than allow him to hurt her, or to use her to hurt someone else. Visitations had gone awry before, so before coming to Earth she1d been taught to control her physical processes in anticipation of just such a need. Stilling her body would be easy enough; and once she was gone, Dane would have nothing to use to control Duncan. The thought of death did not particularly frighten her. She believed what she1d told Duncan, that souls merely moved on to another body, so she knew that she would return. It would be sad to leave this body, she liked it and was comfortable with who and what she was, but if it was necessary, she would take that step. She closed her eyes, feeling oddly at peace. Having reviewed her options made the situation somehow less frightening. **** Mulder wandered back into the bar. It was happy hour, and the room was full, the noise level high, and the scent of alcohol heavy in the air. There was a different man behind the bar now, a younger, heavyset guy with a receding hairline. A cocktail waitress moved among the tables, laughing with the customers and taking orders. He wondered if Dawson had gone home. That would be frustrating. He made his way over toward the bar, hoping to ask the bartender, but by the time he1d reached it someone else had too. The guy looked wild... not his appearance, which didn1t differ that much from Mulder1s; but there was desperation in his eyes and his face. As he reached across the counter to grab the bartender1s arm, Mulder saw blood on the cuff of his shirt. His eyes narrowed and he moved closer, listening in unashamedly. 3...gotta get him for me! It1s urgent! Tell him it1s Evan Conroy!ý 3Okay, man! Take it easy! I1ll get him. Wait here!ý The bartender signaled the waitress to come over and watch the bar, and then went through a door that led into some back room. A moment later he emerged, followed by Dawson. The bartender pointed at Conroy, and Dawson1s expression went from recognition to relief to concern. He moved quickly to Conroy, his limp made more pronounced by his haste. He motioned the younger man to move around the partition at the end of the bar, and Mulder edged closer, straining to hear them over the din. As it was, he picked up only every few words. Still, it was enough to make some sort of sense out of the conversation 3Evan! For God1s sake.... been? ...Dane1s after MacLeod1s.... Watcher1s too! We thought... you too!ý 3...fine... right... is after... got someone... came to find you! ..can1t... happen again! ...woman... not even one of Them!ý 3A woman? Who?ý Mulder heard every syllable of Joe1s response to that one. 3I don1t know... not far from... Black woman... dreadlocks. ...no idea who... can1t let it... have to help!ý Joe moved around the end of the bar, reaching for the phone next to the register. Mulder turned away and pretended to girlwatch. Now that they were closer he could hear better. 3I1ll call Mac. Where did he take her?ý 3Some old warehouse near the docks down in the south part of the city, I don1t know the address, I1ll have to show you.ý 3That1s fine, Evan. You did the right thing.ý Dawson dialed a number and waited. A moment later he was speaking. 3Mac? It1s Dawson. Evan Conroy showed up here. Dane1s got some woman, Evan says she1s not an Immortal and from the description she sounds like Guinan!ý There was a pause, then Dawson spoke again. 3I don1t know for sure. A warehouse in the old south dock area, I1m going to take him up there and see if we can find the place. Take your phone, I1ll call you when we find it.ý Dawson hung up then, and spoke to Conroy. 3Do you have transportation?ý Conroy shook his head. 3I took a cab here.ý 3Okay, I1ll get my car, wait for me out front.ý Mulder watched the younger man leave the bar and after a moment he followed, walking down the street to the car he1d borrowed from Agent Blanchard. He got in, and pretended to look at the sunset glowing to the west while he waited for Dawson to pick up Conroy. A few moments later a blue late-model sedan pulled around the corner and stopped in front of the bar. Conroy got in and the car moved off, heading north. Mulder pulled out and began to tail them, keeping a careful distance behind and trying not to be too obvious. He remembered Scully1s admonition to be sure to call her and almost reached for his phone, then stopped. It would be better to wait until he had an address. Once his quarry got onto the highway, following them proved to be more difficult than he1d hoped. He experienced a severe sense of deja-vu as he noticed that everyone seemed to be driving a good ten miles an hour over the speed-limit, and had forgotten what turn indicators were for. It was like driving the DC beltway, only not as many people were putting on their brakes for no discernable reason as they did there. He did manage to stay with them though, and even made the exit. Then he ran into trouble. There was almost no traffic in the area they traversed, and feeling too conspicuous, he dropped back a bit. That got him caught at a red light. He watched in frustration as the other car made a right turn three blocks down the street. There were no cars coming from any direction so he ran the red, but by the time he made the turn the sedan was nowhere in sight. He swore, and began to cruise the street, peering down each intersection, hoping for a glimpse of it, but had no luck. Finally he pulled over and got out his map. Unfortunately, the detail on the map was just not good enough to help, so he sat there for several moments trying to think of what to do next. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that the pastrami sandwich he1d had for lunch was long gone. A neon sign half a block down the street advertised a restaurant called Canino1s, and he eyed it, half-tempted to see if they did take-out; and as he thought it he realized what he should do. He got out and locked the car, then hurried into the restaurant. It was small, the tables boasted candles in chianti bottles, and the air was redolent of garlic and basil. The smell made his mouth water. The bored-looking teenager at the register brightened as he neared. 3Can I help you?ý 3You might be able to,ý he said, doing his best to look sheepish. 3I1m a little lost. I was supposed to meet someone to look at some property near here, but I1ve misplaced the address. All I remember is he said it was a warehouse not far from the docks. Any ideas?ý She nodded. 3Probably the old Fisher warehouse, it1s been for sale forever. It1s not far from here, but it1s kinda confusing trying to find it. I1ll draw you a map.ý She took a paper placemat and turned it over, and sketched a quick grid. 3This is us...ý she made an `x1 on the map, then drew some arrows. 3You go like this, see?ý He studied the map and nodded. 3I do, thanks! He turned the map over, studied the menu printed on the other side, and inhaled deeply. 3Is the food as good as it smells?ý She grinned. 3Better.ý 3Then I might see you later, thanks.ý It didn1t take him long to find the maze of old, run-down buildings along the river, using the cashier1s map. Some were in decent shape, many had `For Sale1 signs on them, others just looked abandoned. The whole area looked ripe for redevelopment. In a couple of years it wouldn1t surprise him to find the warehouses converted into posh apartments and lofts whose lower floors housed restaurants and art galleries. He drove slowly up and down the little side streets and parking lots, looking for the car he1d followed. He was about to give up in disgust when he noticed something blue sticking out from behind a trash dumpster. He pulled in far enough to see that it was the right car, then backed up and parked a building away. He took out his cellular and dialed Scully. She picked it up on the third ring. 3Scully.ý 3It1s Mulder. I1ve followed our bartender and some friend of his to an old warehouse. It1s down south, right on the Duwamish river, the address is... hold on...ý He walked around to the front of the building and read it off to her. 3From what I managed to overhear, we have a hostage situation on our hands. I1m going to check it out.ý 3Mulder, don1t you dare go in there without backup!ý Even over the tinny speaker of the cellular he could hear the threat in her voice. He grinned. 3Don1t worry, I1m just going to snoop around outside.ý 3You shouldn1t even do that! I1ll call this in and we1ll have a team there in just a few minutes, so just wait, okay?ý Mulder muttered something noncommittal into the phone and turned it off, putting it in his overcoat pocket. Unsnapping his holster, he drew his gun, its weight reassuring in his hand. He made his way over to the dumpster, and came out from behind it, covering the car. It was empty. He circled it, looking for any sign of where the occupants had gone, and a dark splotch on the pavement near the driver1s side door caught his eye. He knelt, trying to see better. In the fading light he couldn1t tell if it was water, antifreeze, oil, or something more sinister. He took a pencil out of his pocket and touched the eraser to one edge of the stain. It came away a deep, glistening, red that didn1t smell of paint or petroleum. A few feet away he saw a strip of something that gleamed with a silvery sheen. His eyes narrowed. Duct tape. Several of the victims had been bound with duct tape. He stood and studied the building in front of him carefully, and saw that there were windows up high on the sides, and a fire escape depended from one. He headed for it, walking quickly but quietly. He didn1t have time to wait for Scully and the cavalry; events were already in progress. **** In the Dark 6/14 It was damp, chilly, and dark. The light that filtered through the dirty and broken windows held the bluish tinge of twilight. The few lights that burned in the cavernous structure cast pools of yellow on the floor around them, but their light didn1t reach much further. Guinan shivered, feeling cold in more than just her body. Should she do it now? It was not as easy to voluntarily give up life as she1d thought it would be, even when it was the right thing to do. She looked around the warehouse, listening hard for any sign that her captors were returning. She heard the faint sounds of the mice and birds who inhabited the building, the liquid susurration of the river outside, the faint sounds of traffic in the distance; but nothing further. The silence was both soothing and frightening. Why had they left her here? Where had they gone? She let her head drop back against the wall and sighed. The blond man had removed her gag once they1d reached the warehouse, apparently it didn1t matter if she screamed here. They must know there was no one near to hear her. A change in traffic noise brought her head up again. Something was different, closer... she heard the crunch of tires on gravel, the sound of a brake being set, then the engine sounds ceased. She stiffened. Were they back? The engine hadn1t had the same throaty purr as the one she1d ridden in, so it was a different car, at least. That didn1t mean it wasn1t them. She listened harder, straining to hear, though the source of the sounds was at the limit of her ability to resolve clearly. She heard a car door open, then another one. 3You1re sure it was here you saw her?ý a man asked. The voice was rough-edged and familiar. A sense of profound relief flooded her as she realized it was Joe. She drew breath to call out, but was silenced by the second voice. 3Yes, it was here. He took her inside.ý Shock replaced relief. The second man1s voice was also familiar, but it wasn1t Duncan1s rolling baritone. It was a slightly nasal tenor... the blond. With Joe? Was Joe somehow involved in this? Had she trusted someone she shouldn1t have? Impossible! Her empathy might be slight, but it was good enough to tell friend from foe! 3I1ll let Duncan know.ý Joe said, then she heard a series of small clicks and tones, and Joe was speaking again, reeling off the address before saying 3Hurry.ý There was a moment of quiet, then he spoke again, obviously to his companion, not into the phone 3He1s on his way.ý 3Good. That1s two down, one to go.ý 3What1s that supposed...ý Joe1s question was cut off by a dull thud and a moan. Guinan tensed and tried to stand, but couldn1t. Her bound feet and hands made it impossible. She strained to hear more, but it was hard to hear anything other than her own pounding heart, then the door of the warehouse opened. She watched the blond drag a limp form into the building, maneuvering him over to where she sat against the wall. As they neared, she saw that as she1d feared, the slack figure was Joe Dawson, and his shirt was stained red from a wound on the back of his head. 3Here, I brought you some company,ý he said with a brief, humorless smile. 3You two can have a nice conversation.ý He let go of Joe, who began to crumple slowly. She scooted quickly to one side and managed to partially break his fall, at least so his head didn1t hit the concrete floor. Whatever damage the other man had done, it didn1t need to be complicated by a second blow to the head. She could feel a warm wetness soaking through the fabric of her leggings where Joe1s head rested against her thigh. He was still bleeding. She managed to grab the collar of his shirt in her fingers and shifted him forward until she could use her bound wrists to apply pressure against the wound behind his ear. 3You might as well not bother,ý the blond said. 3It won1t matter in the long run anyway. She looked up at him, furiously. 3It might not matter to you, but it does to me! This man is my friend!ý The blond seemed disturbed. 3I thought he was mine, but a friend wouldn1t have lied to me. Not about something this important.ý 3I don1t believe you! Joe1s one of the most honest men I know!ý 3I thought so too, but I was wrong. I suppose it1s okay if you do that, since he has to live long enough for me to...ý he stopped himself and sighed. 3Well, he told me it would only take a few more.ý 3A few more what?ý 3Deaths.ý 3To do what?ý He looked at her as if she were simpleminded. 3To become one of Them, of course.ý 3Them?ý she prodded, trying to keep him talking. If she could just figure out what drove him, what his compulsion was, she could weave the right words around him to temper it and perhaps persuade him to let them go. 3You know, an Im....ý Guinan stopped listening. He was here. Dane. She could feel him, as if a yawning, cavernous darkness had just opened up beneath her feet. She shuddered involuntarily, every part of her being rejecting what he was. 3You talk too much, Conroy. It1s a fault common to the inept and insecure.ý The voice was cool and cultured. A man walked out of the darkness at the doorway, and for the first time Guinan saw the physical aspect of the thing that was Tanner Dane. He was not a tall man, but neat, and well-kept. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with hair as blond as Conroy1s, save for a frost of silver at the temples. He wore an expensive European-cut overcoat, and looked like a someone you might see every day in a bank or law firm. At first glance he didn1t look like a vicious killer, or a man who took pleasure in torture, but one look into his eyes betrayed him. They were cold and blue-white, like a dog1s eyes, not a man1s; and there was no soul to be seen in them. He stared down at her, his lip faintly curled. 3I can1t say MacLeod1s taste has improved over the years if you1re any example. But then, it hardly matters what I think. There1s something about you, though< you1re not One, nor will you be, but there is... something interesting.ý Guinan felt his cold mental fingers probing, trying to find cracks in her armor and slide within. She reinforced her mental barriers with every scrap of will she possessed. Whatever this thing was, it wouldn1t get into her! Of the few humans she1d met who possessed operant faculties, his were the most powerful she1d come across. He kept trying for several minutes, until she was sure she couldn1t hold out against him any longer, then finally he gave up. She sagged, half-exhausted from the effort of holding him off. It was fortunate that he didn1t really seem to know how to use his mental abilities, or she would not have been able to resist. He looked annoyed. 3Well, whatever it is, I suppose it doesn1t matter any more. Evan, I found someone outside looking around. Would you be good enough to fetch him in? I1m afraid he1s not up to walking.ý Conroy looked frightened. 3Someone snooping? Why? Who is he?ý Dane shrugged. 3I1ve no idea. He looked quite ordinary, save for these,ý he reached into his pockets and brought out a rather large gun, and a cellular telephone. 3I thought it might be better if he were in with us rather than out there potentially causing problems. Now go get him before he comes to. And bring the tape.ý After Conroy had gone, Dane prodded Joe with an expensive Italian loafer, and shook his head when there was no response. 3Too bad, it1s so much more fun when they1re awake when he does it.ý Fun? Guinan shuddered, then it hit her. This was her chance! She wasn1t gagged, and she was alone with him! She looked up, locking her gaze with his. 3Let us go!ý Even in her own ears, her voice was oddly resonant and seemed to echo in the darkness. Dane1s eyes glazed slightly. 3Let us go,ý Guinan repeated, lowering the tone, lacing it with compulsion. He took a step forward, then suddenly the glazed look disappeared, and he straightened, looking around sharply, as if he1d heard something. A few seconds later, she felt a familiar, seductive brilliance. Duncan was somewhere nearby. Damn! She had meant to be gone before this! But how could she go now, and leave Joe defenseless? At least alive she could try to control Dane and Conroy. It would be wrong to simply abandon Joe to them to save herself a few moments of pain! Dane opened his coat and drew a sword from beneath it, a deadly, gleaming length of blue-gray steel. She tensed and leaned forward, hoping she could protect Joe, but Dane ignored her, and strode quickly away toward the door. Conroy appeared in it, dragging another limp body into the warehouse. He dumped the man beside her and she studied him, her eyes widening. It was the guy she1d seen outside Joe1s earlier that day, the cop! If he was here, maybe his partner was too! She felt a surge of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to get out of this alive. 3Conroy, let us go!ý Guinan whispered, hoping he would be easier to control. From the doorway Dane looked back at her, his eyes narrowed. 3Shut her up. There1s something strange about her voice.ý 3No!ý she cried out, turning her head from side to side to avoid Conroy1s hands. He played the game for a few moments, then tired of it and backhanded her. She tasted blood in her mouth from the blow, and stunned, she stilled to let her head stop reeling. Conroy took advantage of her stillness to plaster a strip of duct tape across her mouth. She subsided, defeated. Next to her, she saw the cop stir slightly, his eyelids fluttering. She hoped Conroy hadn1t noticed. 3Are you ready, Conroy?ý 3I am.ý 3I hardly think so. Where1s your blade?ý Conroy flushed like a schoolboy caught without his homework. 3In the car.ý 3Well get it. MacLeod1s near, I feel him. I1ll bring him here, but he must watch you do it or the Change cannot happen.ý At his words an eager, avid look flashed over Conroy1s face, and he almost ran for the door. What the hell did he think would happen if he kept killing people? She wished she1d paid more attention to what Conroy had been saying just before Dane had appeared. He1d said something about becoming `One.1 One what? Was this some sort of bizarre initiation ritual? The cop moaned softly, and she stared at him, willing him to silence. If they thought he was unconscious they might leave him unbound. As if he1d understood, he quieted, but his eyes opened. She saw him slowly become aware of his surroundings, but he didn1t stir. Only his eyes moved, tracking as much as he could see of the room from his prone position. His gaze passed Joe1s unconscious form, then moved higher and met hers. His eyes widened, taking in the tape across her mouth, then dropping to her bound wrists. He started to speak, but she shook her head minutely, and looked over toward the door, warning plain in her gaze. His eyes narrowed, but he didn1t speak. In her lap, Joe stirred and groaned. Couldn1t these guys keep quiet? Lifting her hands from his head, she was reassured to see that the bleeding seemed to have stopped. He groaned again, and she put her fingers over his lips, pressing gently. The cop made a quiet 3ssssshhhý sound. Joe opened his eyes and looked up, obviously confused and in pain. He opened his mouth, saw the tape on hers, and closed it again. Slowly he lifted his head until he could see more of the room, and she felt him tense. He let his head fall back, and winced in pain. 3Hurry up!ý Dane called out. Guinan looked over to see him step aside to allow Conroy back into the room, this time carrying a sword in his hand. He looked awkward with it, ill-at-ease. 3Good. I1ll get MacLeod. Keep them until I return.ý Conroy nodded and walked toward them, sword in hand. He stopped several feet away, and set it down on a steel drum, then drew his gun again. Obviously he felt more at home with the latter, as he handled it easily. 3Enjoying your little party?ý he asked archly, in a way that made her skin crawl. 3It can1t be every day you have two men at your feet.ý Frustration rose inside her. She wanted to stop him, but how, when her only weapon had been taken from her! Arrogantly, she had never thought it necessary to learn some of the self-defense skills other Visitors had advised her to learn. She1d always had so much confidence in her ability to keep everything under control that she had simply hadn1t bothered. Now she regretted that bitterly. If she could have avoided being taken in the first place, she could have warned Joe and Duncan, and this whole thing wouldn1t be happening! It was her fault! She couldn1t stand to look at Conroy, or at Joe, so she closed her eyes, hoping no one would notice she was crying. **** Duncan found the address Joe had phoned him with. It was the right place. He could feel Dane, the peculiar chill of his presence was immediately recognizable. He got out of the car and retrieved his sword, its familiar heft reassuring in his hand. He felt the heady rush of adrenaline flood him as he readied for battle. He wanted Dane so badly he could taste it. Only a few times in his life had he wanted to hurt someone this badly. Kern, Durgin, Daimler, Kalas.... He was filled with a cold, calm fury that would accept no less than Dane1s ultimate death. He moved away from the car toward the building, feeling the sensation of presence strengthen. Yes, this way. Dane was here, inside. Duncan padded toward the door, feet soundless on the pavement, every sense focused. He saw the door swing open and froze in place, waiting. Dane emerged. He still looked as he had the last time, immaculately dressed, perfectly groomed, cold as ice. He studied Duncan coolly, then brought up his sword in salute. 3MacLeod. It1s good to see you again.ý 3You1ll forgive me if I don1t echo the sentiment.ý 3It1s not entirely unexpected, no, but I am glad to see you. If you hadn1t come, I would have been very disappointed, after all the trouble I1ve gone to.ý Duncan didn1t pretend not to know what Dane meant. 3Why, Dane? Why kill my friends? Why kill Watchers for God1s sake?ý 3The friend of my enemy is my enemy. By taking them, I weaken you. The Watchers were just for fun, once I found out what they were. How better to bait my trap than with mortals, your biggest weakness? I1ve always said your boy-scout ethics would one day get you killed, and I plan to prove myself right.ý 3You can try.ý Duncan said, smiling. He stood at ease, his sword down, as if completely relaxed. He thought he saw the shadow of a frown crease Dane1s forehead, but it was gone so quickly he couldn1t be sure. The man went on, clearly trying to get a reaction. 3You know, I wouldn1t have found you if you didn1t make a habit of befriending mortals. I overheard one of your myriad mortal proteges mention your name and grew curious. By the time I1d finished with her, I knew all about you, where you live, what you do. Interestingly, she also knew about us.ý Duncan stifled the urge to go for him then, knowing that was what his opponent wanted, to provoke an attack out of anger. He somehow managed not to ask who it had been. Dane waited a moment, then lifted an eyebrow. 3What, not curious? I1m surprised.ý Duncan shrugged. 3You1ve killed so many it hardly matters.ý 3Oh, she1s not dead.ý Dane grinned mirthlessly. 3Ms. Lord will probably live a long, long time. She simply may not enjoy it as she might have. She was a lovely woman.ý Was? Duncan remembered Rebecca1s darkly beautiful face, her bravery, intensity, and grace; and tried not to imagine those things destroyed as was Dane1s wont. One more reason to make sure Dane couldn1t harm anyone else. He schooled his voice to nonchalance and looked around, pointedly. 3Are we going to stand around all day and chat?ý Dane bared his teeth. 3If you1re so anxious for it, by all means, let us lay on, however, brawling in parking lots really isn1t my style. 3Why is that?ý Duncan asked with a lifted eyebrow. 3No place to hide?ý Dane took a swing at him, a badly placed, off-balance swing. Duncan didn1t even have to step back to get out of the way. He grinned. 3Is that the best you can do? I wanted to enjoy this fight.ý He brought his sword up and took a step forward. To his complete amazement, Dane didn1t engage him, instead, he turned and ran. After a moment of surprise, Duncan took off after him. **** Dana Scully had that feeling again, the one she got whenever Mulder was in trouble. She hated that feeling. Why hadn1t he called her back? What was wrong? She noticed the light ahead turning yellow and pulled up to the stop-bar, tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as she consulted the map spread over the seat next to her. From the looks of it, she was getting close. `Damn it, Mulder,1 she thought. `Would you please call?1 She1d already requested back-up, asking for the response to be silent. If there really was a hostage situation, coming in with lights and sirens would only exacerbate it. A black and white pulled up on her left, and she glanced over to see Bennett1s familiar face in the passenger seat. He nodded grimly at her, pointing ahead, and as the light turned green she let the marked car pull ahead to lead the way. Much easier than a map. Bennett1s car led her through a maze of turns to a run-down wharf and warehouse district. As they did, two more black and white units, a SWAT team van, and four cars with government plates fell in with them. She nodded with satisfaction; good back-up. They all converged in the parking lot of a building two doors away from the target address Mulder had given her. As she got out of the car, she realized suddenly that the maroon Taurus at the curb was the one Mulder had been driving. Quickly she went to it, and as she had expected, it was empty. Nothing about it looked suspicious or unusual, except that Mulder was nowhere in sight. She knew with a peculiar certainty that he was in that warehouse with the suspect. She just didn1t know what sort of shape he was in. Bennett gestured her over to where he was standing. There were four men wearing baseball jackets emblazoned with the letters FBI. One of them held a similar jacket and a kevlar vest out to her. 3Agent Scully, as the agent of record, can you tell us something about what we1ve got here?.ý She buckled the vest on over her suit, pulled on the jacket, and nodded, looking around at the assembled men. 3We have a hostage situation, and the suspect involved is probably armed and highly dangerous. We have reason to believe he has already killed at least fifteen people, possibly more. He kills with an edged weapon of some type, but he may also carry a gun. The killer is probably delusional, thinking he is some sort of superbeing who can1t be killed by ordinary means. Though that1s clearly impossible, the human mind is a powerful thing and because of his delusion he may be very hard to bring down.ý She paused a moment, then took a breath and went on, saying the thing she really hadn1t wanted to admit, even to herself.. 3There is one other thing... my partner, Agent Mulder, contacted me from this location nearly half an hour ago. He was going in to try to find out whether the man actually has hostages, but he has not contacted me since then, so I must assume at this point that he is... unable to do so. Exercise extreme caution, and be prepared to defend yourselves.ý She saw almost no fear on the faces around her, just determination. She felt the same way herself, though there was a small knot below her sternum that would expand if she let herself think about it. Bennett stepped forward. 3Thank you, Agent Scully. Here1s the situation as we1ve mapped it out...ý She listened intently as Bennett explained the layout of the general area and the building they were going into. She was troubled by the proximity to water, knowing that if the suspect had a boat of some sort moored nearby, he could escape them. She made a mental note to watch for that possibility. 3Everyone ready?ý Bennett asked quietly. He was answered with chorus of affirmatives that made Scully smile. It sounded like a high school locker-room before a big game. As the other law-enforcement personnel began to take up their positions, she followed the SWAT team toward the warehouse, to the door nearest the blue car that sat alone in the lot. They took up positions to either side of the door, and one of them looked at her, questioningly. She nodded, and stepped forward, her hand on the door handle. It turned beneath her hand, and Dana was startled to realize it was unlocked. Too easy! A trap? Cautiously she eased it open just a crack. Inside, in the dimness, she saw a single shadowy figure pacing the floor. He was facing partly away from her, but she could tell that he held a weapon. She could also see that he was not Mulder. He was too short and too stocky. Holding a finger to her lips she eased the door open a tiny bit further until she could see what he faced. A puddle of light played over the tableaux of figures on the floor. One of them was stunningly familiar, and she sucked in a silent gasp. She would recognize that long, rumpled figure anywhere. Mulder! Was he alive? Hurt? The only other member of the trio she could see well was a black woman whose mouth was covered with duct tape. Scully winced in sympathy. She knew what that felt like. The woman1s eyes were open, and the periodic flicker of her gaze as she followed her captor1s movements told Scully she was alive and aware. She quietly pulled the door closed and turned to the man on her left, the one who1d been pointed out at the SWAT team sharpshooter. He bent down so he could hear her whisper. 3The man standing is our suspect, and he1s armed, though I can1t tell what with. There are three other people in there, on the floor. At least one of them is alive, though she seems to be restrained. When we go in, can you take out the suspect quickly so he can1t turn on his hostages?ý The man grinned ferally. 3No problem, ma1am.ý Scully felt an utterly inappropriate desire to laugh at being called 3ma1amý but restrained herself. She looked down the line of men waiting for her move, and mouthed, 3On three.ý They nodded, and she held up one finger, then two, then three. On the third, she threw open the door and charged in, followed by the swarm of men in riot gear. 3Federal agents! Throw down your weapon!ý The man spun to face them, an almost comical expression of surprise on his face. He focused on Scully, and his hands came up. She realized that what he held in his hands was a gun, not a knife. She stiffened, suddenly aware that she was in danger, and then Mulder moved in a fluid, catlike lunge toward the suspect. They were down on the floor in seconds, and Scully swore in frustration. The sharpshooter couldn1t get a clear shot now! A gunshot sounded, and she stiffened, half expecting one of the two men to collapse, but neither did. After a moment, the suspect managed to free himself and he got to his knees, his gun aimed at Mulder1s head. Three nearly simultaneous reports shattered the air, and the man dropped his weapon as crimson bloomed on his chest and back. He touched his fingers to the spreading wetness on his chest, and looked up, his expression an odd combination of frustration and bewilderment. 3But I wasn1t finished yet...ý he said, quietly, then his eyes rolled back and he tipped slowly sideways to lie unmoving on the floor. Mulder kicked the man1s gun out of reach and scrambled to his feet, looking around at the men surrounding him. 3Nice job on the reinforcements Scully.ý 3It would have been if you hadn1t decided to play the hero. We had a clear shot at him until then!ý Mulder looked offended. 3So did he, directly at you; and you1re welcome.ý Scully gave him a grudging nod and knelt next to the suspect, searching for a pulse. There was none. Not that she1d really expected one. She looked up and found Mulder helping one of the other two victims sit up. She recognized the bartender by his silver-shot dark hair. His shirt and jacket were streaked with blood from a wound on the back of his head, and he looked pale and a bit woozy. 3Get some paramedics in here!ý Dana snapped, and saw one of the SWAT guys react and begin speaking into his walkie-talkie. She moved to Joe1s side and examined him cursorily, relieved to see that the cut at least was superficial. 3I bet you have a hell of a headache,ý she said, commiserating. 3You should get that x-rayed. It could be a concussion.ý He nodded, wincing, his gaze fixed the black woman. 3I1m okay, I1m hard-headed. But Guinan... I think that shot hit her, I felt her jerk when the gun went off.ý Scully shifted her attention to the woman. Mulder was carefully peeling the duct tape from her mouth, and her dusky skin seemed to have taken on an oddly ashen tone that Scully didn1t like at all. 3Where are you hurt?ý she asked, examining her, looking for the telltale leakage of blood. 3That shot hit you, didn1t it?ý The woman nodded, her lower lip caught in her teeth. After a moment she sucked in a breath. 3It grazed my arm, that1s all. I1ll be okay. Get my hands and feet free, please! I1ve got to find Duncan and help him!ý 3He1s in no danger now, we killed the man who was holding you hostage here.ý 3You killed one of them, but not the really dangerous one. Come on, get me loose!ý 3One of them?ý Scully looked blankly at Mulder. That was something they hadn1t even thought of. 3There are two of them?ý The woman nodded frantically. 3Yes! Damn it, let me go to him...ý 3Where did they go?ý Mulder asked calmly. 3There...ý she nodded toward the west wall, the one that let out onto the dock area. 3They1re out there.ý her gaze shifted to Mulder, and her eyes seemed to hold his. 3I know they are, I can feel them. I have to help! You1ve got to let me help.ý Scully was only half listening as she began to rip open the woman1s blood-soaked sleeve to bare the wound on her arm, but Joe1s intense response to that plea made her look up. 3Guinan, no! You don1t know what you1re doing. Duncan doesn1t need any help!ý 3Yes he does! You don1t know what this guy is like!ý 3Yes, I do, and believe me, Duncan would not want help, especially not you and a horde of cops!. He can handle Dane.ý 3No, he can1t. Dane1s evil, Joe, like nothing I1ve ever met before. He1s as dark as Duncan is light, maybe even more so. He might...ý she broke off and looked at Mulder. 3Go to him. If you won1t let me help, you go. Don1t let him face the darkness alone.ý Something about her voice was incredibly compelling. Mulder looked at her, then at Scully. He held out his hand. She hesitated for a moment, then she put her gun in his hand. 3Be careful this time.ý He nodded, and headed for the door. Scully watched him, wondering why on earth she had just handed him her gun, and why she was letting him do this. She started to call out, to tell the SWAT team to go after him, but the woman put a hand on her arm. 3Please, let him go alone. It will be all right.ý Again Dana felt compelled to do as she1d been asked. She settled back down to examine the wound on the woman1s arm. It was just a graze, but there was something odd about her blood, and look of the wound. She wished there were better light in the room, and that she had proper equipment, but she didn1t. Where were the paramedics, for god1s sake? For lack of anything better, she folded a piece of the woman1s ripped sleeve into a pad which she held to the wound to stanch the bleeding. 3How do you feel?ý 3Like I1ve been shot,ý Guinan said drily. 3But it1s not that bad now that I1ve gotten more accustomed to it. I1ll be fine.ý Dana studied her, noting that her color had improved somewhat. She nodded non-commitally. 3We1ll let the paramedics make that determination when they get here.ý Guinan stiffened suddenly. 3Paramedics? No... I can1t. I1m fine. I don1t need to be treated.ý Joe looked at her, annoyed. 3Don1t be a damned martyr, Guinan. Have it looked at. I1m going to have my head examined... something people are forever telling me I need to do,ý he said with a chuckle. 3I want to make sure you1re okay. You shouldn1t have been mixed up in this to begin with.ý Guinan snorted. 3You can say that again. But there1s no need to worry, everything is fine, I assure you. Now would one of you please get this damned tape off me?ý Joe nodded and dug a folding knife from his pocket, which he opened and used carefully to slice through the tough silvery tape. Guinan stretched her legs, then flexed her arms, hissing slightly in pain from the wound. Suddenly she turned toward the far wall, as if she could somehow see through it. 3Quiet... let me hear...ý Hear what, Dana wondered, unable to hear anything but the SWAT guys. She vaguely thought she ought to be concerned about Mulder being out there with a killer, but it was just a stray thought. She returned to what she was doing. **** In the Dark 7/14 Mulder moved quietly and quickly around behind the building to a dock-like area. He stopped, staring at the two figures he saw. One was the guy in photograph that Bennett had shown him, Duncan MacLeod. The other was slighter, better dressed, and completely unfamiliar. It certainly wasn1t Nash. It must be the man that Guinan had called 3Dane.ý The one she had said was the `dangerous one.1 They were fencing. No, he corrected himself, they were fighting. This was no genteel match with button-tipped foils, this was a lethal fight. He watched for a moment, trying to figure out if he could get a shot off without accidentally hitting the wrong duelist. How many times had this scene been played out throughout MacLeod1s lifetime, and how long had that lifetime had been? Decades, centuries, millennia? The smaller man circled MacLeod, who turned with him, waiting, watching. He struck suddenly, and MacLeod brought his blade up and blocked the cut. Dane turned and struck out again with astonishing speed, and they engaged again. It was clear that MacLeod was stronger and better-trained than Dane, however Dane seemed to have the advantage of speed. As Mulder watched, MacLeod managed to bring his sword in under Dane1s and parried it with a circular motion that neatly disarmed his opponent. Dane stood there for a moment, looking utterly stunned, then as MacLeod drew back the katana for the final blow, Dane slowly began to smile. His smile was both knowing, and unnerving, and MacLeod stopped, eyes narrowed. Mulder raised his gun and started to step forward, but stopped as MacLeod spoke. He wanted to hear what they had to say, and he could wait a moment to declare his presence. 3What?ý MacLeod growled. 3It won1t do any good for you to kill me, you know.ý 3What are you talking about?ý 3Your friends are dead anyway, you know that. Conroy took care of them, you heard those shots.ý MacLeod1s stance shifted slightly, angling toward the warehouse, though still keeping Dane in his field of vision. Dane1s words obviously disturbed him. MacLeod was clearly weighing his options, and Dane took advantage of the momentary pause to dart to the side and pick up his sword. MacLeod reacted to the threat by bringing up the tip of his blade, but he didn1t attack. 3Conroy? What1s your Watcher got to do with this?ý Dane chuckled. 3Everything. It1s him you know, not me. He1s been killing them.ý 3Tell me another one!ý MacLeod scoffed. 3But it1s true, he1s trying to become one of us!ý MacLeod scowled. 3Don1t be ridiculous. That1s impossible. You have to be born an immortal!ý 3He doesn1t know that. It was remarkably easy to convince him otherwise.ý 3You told him he could become an Immortal by killing us?ý MacLeod asked incredulously. 3Oh, not just us, anyone. I told him that it1s how we all got to be what we are. I told him that there was a critical threshold of deaths that it would take, and he1s been trying faithfully to reach that goal. It1s a shame he won1t get the reward he1s been seeking. He1s been such a good disciple. Who shall we go after next, hmmm? How about... what1s his name... Richie?ý 3Damn it, Dane! What do you want?ý MacLeod1s voice was harsh with anger. 3Right this moment? Oh, watching the expression on your face when you walk into that warehouse would be nice. Perhaps they1re not quite dead yet... lying there bleeding, dying, as we fight.ý He chuckled. 3What a delightful thought. Eventually, I want your head, of course. Give me your blade and perhaps I1ll let Richie live... for now.ý MacLeod1s expression fairly reeked of disgust. 3You1re sick, Dane, you always were, however I think you1ll leave him alone if I take your head. I can handle Conroy.ý Dane grinned. 3A child could handle Conroy, I, on the other hand, won1t be so easy.ý He lunged toward MacLeod, who swore and barely managed to block a sweeping upward slash from below that made Mulder flinch in masculine sympathy. That had been awfully close to the family jewels. Dane seemed maniacal in his intensity, coming after him with grim determination. MacLeod blocked, and blocked, time after time, and began to maneuver himself toward the edge of the dock. Mulder wondered if he was planning a dive into the river in order to escape. Dane suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing, for he moved between MacLeod and the water. 3Oh no you don1t! I1ve waited far too long for this!ý Dane cut low, and MacLeod blocked. Their swords rang with the clash of steel on steel, and before MacLeod could recover, Dane stepped back, disengaging, and lashed out with his blade laying open MacLeod1s chest and abdomen in a diagonal slash. Mulder saw the bigger man stagger back, moving sluggishly, as if badly hurt. Dane grinned and drew back his own sword to strike. It was now or never. Mulder stepped out of the shadows and drew a bead on Dane, Scully1s Sig-Sauer held in both hands for stability. 3FBI! Drop your weapons!ý Dane turned and saw him, cursed roughly and moved to complete his stroke. 3I said drop your weapons!ý Mulder shouted again, louder. MacLeod did as he1d been ordered, simultaneously hitting the ground and rolling to avoid Dane1s weapon as it came down. Mulder1s finger tightened on the trigger, and a single shot shattered the stillness. Dane jerked backward, a grimace of pain on his face as his sword fell from nerveless fingers. A bright stain appeared on his right shoulder, just below the collarbone. He stared at MacLeod for a moment, his face feral with hatred, then he turned and let himself fall. A splash came a few seconds later. MacLeod cursed soundly, and looked over the edge. Mulder moved warily to join him, and saw no sign of Dane. 3Damn, we1ll have to drag the river.ý MacLeod looked at him, and he saw recognition in his face. He must have recognized him from Joe1s earlier in the day. He looked back at the dark surface of the water, and shook his head. 3You won1t find a body,ý he said flatly. Mulder let out his breath, suddenly aware he1d been holding it. 3Somehow I knew you were going to say that.ý 3Then you should have let me take him.ý 3From where I stood, it looked more like he was about to take you.ý 3That was deliberate.ý Mulder studied him a moment, seeing the truth of that in his eyes, then sighed. 3This seems to be my day for getting in the way. I1m Fox Mulder, FBI.ý There was a surreal quality to the moment, introducing himself as if they1d met at a party, but MacLeod took the hand that was extended to him. 3Duncan MacLeod.ý 3I know.ý MacLeod smiled dryly. 3Somehow I knew you were going to say that,ý he said, echoing Mulder1s earlier words. Mulder acknowledged him with an amused glance. 3Scully talked to you, then?ý 3She did. She knew a few things that surprised me. You people don1t strike me as the type who1d be interested in us.ý Mulder laughed silently. 3You1d probably be surprised at what interests us. But in this case, it was logical. We were tracking an interstate killer.ý 3Ah, yes. That explains some of it.ý MacLeod stared, unseeing, at the water, and Mulder wondered what he was thinking. 3I don1t suppose you1d care to give me some details on him; his name, where he lives, that sort of thing?ý he prompted quietly. 3It wouldn1t do you any good. He can change them more easily than you can imagine.ý 3Still, it would be nice to be able to make a complete report.ý 3Frankly, I1d prefer it stay incomplete.ý Mulder1s eyebrows lifted. MacLeod grinned ingratiatingly. 3Does your report have to mention me?ý Mulder chuckled. 3D1you think I could convince Scully you1re a figment of her imagination?ý He paused a moment, reading MacLeod1s expression, and shook his head with a slight smile. 3I didn1t think so either. Honestly, I don1t think anyone ever reads my reports anyway, but in any case, it1s clear from what I saw, and what I was told by your friends, that you1re a victim here, not a perpetrator. However, we seem to have a plethora of victims, and I can probably get one of them to tell me about this guy if you won1t.ý MacLeod1s head snapped up, his eyes searching. 3My friends? Joe? Guinan? They1re alive?ý Mulder remembered what Dane had told MacLeod, and realized he must have thought them dead. He nodded. 3I1m sorry, I should have told you earlier. They1re fine. My partner brought the cavalry. She1s good at that.ý 3Where are they?ý 3Inside with Scully. She1s showing off her doctoring skills at the moment. Your friend Guinan insisted I come out here and give you a hand.ý Duncan eyed him narrowly. 3Doctoring skills? I thought you said they were fine!ý 3They are, mostly. They1re a bit banged up,ý Mulder gingerly touched the back of his head. 3But then, so am I.ý His gaze fell to the bloody slash in MacLeod1s shirt and he nodded toward it. 3And so are you. You might want to get that taken care of.ý MacLeod glanced down, smiling slightly. 3There1s no need.ý Mulder1s eyes narrowed as he realized there was no wound beneath the slash. He stared for a long moment, then lifted his gaze to MacLeod1s. 3That must be handy.ý 3On occasion. It can also be very problematic.ý 3Yes, I1d imagine it would. I1m sure there are a lot of people who1d like to know what makes you tick.ý He paused, thinking of his own experiences. 3A lot of not-very-nice people.ý 3Exactly. So you can see why I1d rather avoid any mention of it in your report.ý Mulder nodded. 3There are... aspects of the case I don1t have to report in as much detail as others.ý A noise from behind them brought Mulder1s attention around, and when he turned back, he gestured at MacLeod1s sword. 3I think you1d better put that away before someone besides me sees it. I think the reinforcements are about to descend.ý MacLeod nodded and slipped his sword into concealment beneath his coat, buttoning it to hide the slash in his shirt. 3You1re not at all what I expected out of an FBI agent.ý Mulder gazed for a moment at the dark water below the dock, and then turned, his expression wry. 3I don1t think I1m quite what the FBI expected out of an FBI agent either.ý **** 3Guinan, Joe! Thank God! I was afraid you were dead!ý Guinan looked up to find Duncan standing over her. She1d been so distracted by Scully1s fussing over her arm that she hadn1t realized he1d come into the warehouse with the other FBI agent. She1d known he was safe, she1d felt his presence strongly, while Dane1s presence had faded and disappeared; but still she felt a rush of relief at the sight of him. She saw the same emotion echoed on Duncan1s expressive face. She pulled away from Scully and wrapped one arm around Joe and the other around Duncan, ignoring the fiery protest from her wound, and just held on. She realized a moment later that she wasn1t the only one who was shaking. They stood like that for several moments, then finally she let them go. 3Don1t you guys ever scare me like that again!ý she admonished them. 3Me?ý Duncan said, with mock offense. 3What about you? How did this happen?ý She felt a blush burning her cheeks and was glad her dark skin hid that from them. 3He must have followed me from the bar. He and his friend snatched me right off the sidewalk. I1ve been one of those `never thought it could happen to me1 types. I guess it1s time to take some self- defense classes.ý 3I1d say so!ý He looked at Joe with concern. 3Joe, do you feel as bad as you look?ý Joe chuckled. 3Nah, I1m okay, but they want me to go get an x-ray to be sure.ý 3Do it. Concussion1s nothing to fool around with.ý Duncan1s gaze returned to Guinan. 3What happened to your arm?ý He hadn1t missed her wince as she lowered her arm, or her torn sleeve. 3Don1t worry about me, it1s just a scratch,ý she chuckled, relief making her feel a bit giddy. 3You know, I1ve always wanted to say that.ý 3I can1t say that I1m glad you got the opportunity. You should have that looked at, too.ý 3It1s nothing.ý 3It is just a graze, but it could easily get infected. Definitely have it treated.ý Scully put in from the sidelines where she1d been watching them with an amused expression. Her gaze shifted to Duncan. 3So, you were coming here after all.ý MacLeod looked at her innocently. 3Me? I was just in the neighborhood. You never know when you1ll find a good real estate bargain. I see you managed to find the place without following me after all.ý 3After all?ý Mulder echoed, looking interested. Scully shot him a look that should have singed his eyebrows. Guinan looked from the petite redhead to Duncan and felt the flare of interest between them. At this point it was weighted a bit toward Dana Scully1s side of the scale, but that could change easily. Duncan was still wary of the agent because of the situation, but as soon as the adrenaline wore off he1d be able to see her as a woman instead of a law officer. She stifled a sigh of regret. Even if she were allowed to indulge herself, he was better off with a human woman anyway. Her longevity would be a serious obstacle to overcome. She took a step back, removing herself from their line of sight, and looked at her arm. The bleeding had stopped, and she felt the telltale itch of healing flesh beginning in the deepest layers below the surface. With any luck, she wouldn1t even have a scar. She was damned lucky it hadn1t been any worse. If she1d been taken to a hospital, they1d have known within minutes that she wasn1t human. In fact, if the light in the warehouse had been any better, her own blood would have betrayed her. Humans didn1t bleed deep maroon. She was glad her black clothing hid the color of the blood it had absorbed. 3Guinan? You okay?ý She turned to find Joe regarding her closely. She nodded. 3Just a little shaken up, that1s all. You?ý 3The same. I can1t believe Evan would do something like this! It1s insane!ý 3What was he trying to do, anyway? What did he think he1d gain by killing us?ý Joe1s gaze slid away from hers and he shook his head gingerly. 3Hell if I know, Guinan. It doesn1t make any sense.ý She stared at him, her eyes narrowed. His words held a peculiar mixture of truth and falsehood that startled her. She1d never sensed him in a lie before, at least not one that wasn1t just a social lie. This time, he knew something that he wasn1t telling her. 3Excuse me, Mr. Dawson, would you be able to answer a few questions for me?ý Joe looked up at Mulder, obviously relieved by the interruption. Guinan shot him an `I1ll get you later1 look, and stood by quietly as Mulder began to speak. 3We1ve found identification on this man indicating that his name is Evan Conroy. Did you know him?ý Joe nodded. 3We were acquainted, though not well. I knew him in connection with a bookstore I once owned.ý Guinan sensed another partial lie. Mulder looked as if he did too. 3A bookstore?ý he queried, clearly waiting for more. Joe nodded, and then hesitated a moment, as if he suspected the other man knew more than he let on. 3We1re also... fraternity brothers.ý Mulder nodded sagely, and seemed oddly amused. 3A fraternity? I see. That would account for the tattoos then?ý Guinan felt Joe1s anxiety levels skyrocketing. He shot a glance at Duncan where he stood speaking to Scully. 3I1ve already spoken to Mr. MacLeod.ý Mulder said quietly, as if to reassure him. 3I know about your... fraternity. It1s an interesting one. Its been around a long time hasn1t it?ý 3A very long time.ý 3And you have some very old members, don1t you?ý Joe1s eyes were narrowed with suspicion. 3I suppose that depends on your definition of old, doesn1t it?ý Mulder nodded. 3It does.ý His shrewd gaze swept over Joe, moved to Duncan, then to Guinan. 3And some people are a lot older than they seem, aren1t they?ý Guinan felt a flare of apprehension. Could he know? Had her cover been penetrated? Even if it hadn1t, would her falsified background stand up to an FBI investigation? 3They are.ý Joe said flatly. 3Can I talk to you privately for a moment?ý Mulder1s eyes lit up. 3Of course.ý He looked at Guinan. 3Will you excuse us?ý She nodded, she would be able to hear them no matter what, so it didn1t matter if they thought they were private or not. She pretended interest in watching the people from the coroner1s office loading Conroy1s body onto a stretcher. 3You1re a Watcher, aren1t you? And so was Conroy.ý Mulder asked Joe. 3How the hell do you know about us?ý Joe demanded. 3I have good sources. I know about the Watchers, but you can relax. If you want to spend your life keeping tabs on marginally human beings with unnaturally long life-spans, that1s your business. It1s a little strange, but it1s not illegal. I do however, need to know what the hell was going on here!ý Guinan stopped listening, stunned by the implications of what she1d overheard. Somehow, some way, they knew at least part of her secret! How had they figured it out? If the government knew about her, they might find out that not only was she long-lived, but she wasn1t even human, and that would spell trouble. The 3blacký agencies who kept tabs on extraterrestrial activity were not known for their benevolence. She knew the usual fate of those who were caught. Of course, the ones they caught were usually the ones who most deserved catching, the ones whose experiments on humankind made them targets for the same sort of experimentation in return. She, however, had no intention of becoming a laboratory rat. She looked around the warehouse, determining that no one was watching her. All the various security personnel were busy collecting evidence and searching for clues. Joe was occupied with Mulder, and Duncan with Scully. It might be her only chance. She stepped away from the pool of light she1d occupied and edged her way through the shadows toward the door. She felt badly about sneaking off, but she didn1t have much choice. No matter what Joe, and possibly Duncan, thought they knew about her, it was nothing compared to what they could learn. Then there was the complication of the FBI1s involvement. She just couldn1t risk it. Now, if only she could get out of there without being noticed. Apparently everyone was busy inside the building, as no one challenged her as she stepped out into the evening. It had gotten dark, and she stopped for a moment, listening, and heard three men conversing as they searched the cars parked around the corner from where she stood. She hesitated, wanting to avoid being seen. It would be better for her to `disappear mysteriously1. There was no one in sight or hearing behind the building, so she slipped around there and blended into the night. **** Scully rose and stood at her desk, stretching stiff muscles. Behind her, the printer began spitting out her report. As she watched the paper accumulate in the tray, Mulder walked into their office. She looked up and seeing the stress in his face, gave him a sympathetic smile. 3How1d it go?ý 3Worse than rush-hour on the beltway, but not as bad as a trip to the dentist. He didn1t much care for the fact that one of our two serial killers disappeared. I know I hit him, but there1s always a chance that he survived that. Skinner1ll probably like your report better than he liked mine.ý She grinned. 3He always does.ý He made a face. 3Go ahead and rub it in, Scully.ý 3No thanks, just did.ý She picked up her report and leafed through it, pursing her lips thoughtfully. 3Here, I wanted your opinion on something. Read this part.ý He took the report and started to read, then looked up at her, one eyebrow lifted. 3You had your laundry analyzed? What, the `Spray and Wash1 didn1t work?ý She chuckled and rolled her eyes. 3I couldn1t figure out how I got maroon stuff all over the front of my blouse when I left the warehouse. It wasn1t there when I went in so it had to be something I picked up at the crime scene. Considering the fact that we went over the place with a fine-toothed comb and didn1t find anything even remotely similar, yes, I had it analyzed. Keep reading.ý He did, and his eyebrows lifted. 3`The substance appears to be hemoglobin, however the lab has been unable to identify the species from which it came,1ý he quoted. 3Interesting. From our so-called `Immortal1, perhaps?ý He thought for a moment, and shot her a sly look. 3Just how close were you standing to MacLeod, Scully?ý 3Not that close, Mulder. Besides, he wasn1t injured. I only treated Joe Dawson and our mysterious disappearing lady, Guinan El- Aurian. I guess I have to wonder if she was one too?ý 3I don1t think so. You said her arm was cut and bleeding, right?ý Scully nodded. 3Yes, it wasn1t terribly serious, but it was messy.ý 3Then she wasn1t an immortal. I saw MacLeod take a sword cut that should have put him in the hospital. He was laid open, shirt and skin, nearly from his `naves to his chops1, as the Bard put it. It was healed within minutes. If she were an immortal, too, I don1t think you would1ve had anything to bandage... unless there are two types of immortals out there.ý Scully stared at him, her eyes narrowed. 3You must be mistaken. The blood must have been Dane1s and the sword cut MacLeod1s shirt without actually touching him.ý 3I know what I saw, Scully, one minute he was bleeding and the next he was healed. Besides, his blood was as red as yours or mine, not maroon.ý Scully bristled. 3Why didn1t you tell me? You didn1t think that was important enough to share with me? I expected resistance to infection and enhanced tissue replacement, but never considered the possibility that it might be virtually instantaneous! I wonder if the speed varies with the severity of the wound? Perhaps MacLeod would be willing to come in for a few tests. Can you imagine what we could learn from him? Studying him could revolutionize medicine!ý He looked at her ironically, 3Now you know why I didn1t say anything to you... or to Skinner. Think about it from the other side of the microscope for a moment.ý Scully frowned a little as Mulder1s words sank in. He continued, echoing her earlier enthusiasm. 3I understand your fascination, though. What must it be like? Have you thought about how old he might be?ý 3I1d guess about thirty-five, but he claimed to be four hundred and three. I guess life begins at 400.ý 3He told you that? And you didn1t think it important enough to tell me?ý Scully paused a moment, enjoying turning the tables on her partner for a change. 3Mulder, the man was obviously either delusional or pulling my leg. In either case, it didn1t seem worth wasting your time with.ý 3What if he was serious, Scully? What if that fantastic immune system you posited were real? Wouldn1t it be within the realm of possibility? Given that, is it truly so difficult to imagine that the ravages of time might be held at bay, that a body which could heal itself so quickly and so completely might be virtually immortal? Imagine what that could mean! He and the others like him are truly living history. What have they seen? What must it be like to watch civilizations rise and fall while you remain the same?ý Mulder stopped, lost in his visions. Scully, caught up in Mulder1s passionate imagery, shivered and replied, 3Horrible. It would be horrible.ý She sighed, thinking, for a moment of the practical side of such a life. They1d have to move every few years to hide their nature. Friends would grow old and die in the blink of an eye. Immortality could easily become a curse. Looking into her partner1s face she saw her own emotions mirrored in his eyes. 3Still, I1d love to spend a week or two studying MacLeod1s blood chemistry.ý Mulder1s eyes were bright with amusement, 3Here I want to talk with the man, and you just want his body.ý **** Joe nodded to Duncan as his friend paused in the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the relative darkness of the bar. Finishing with his customer, he pulled an envelope out of his pocket and deposited it in front of Duncan. 3What1s this, my tab?ý Duncan picked it up and glancing at the envelope noticed that it was addressed to both Joe and himself, care of the bar. There was no return address. Intrigued, he turned it into the light to see the postmark. 3San Francisco? Who do we know in San Francisco?ý He pulled out the single sheet of paper out and glanced first at the signature. 3It1s about time,ý he exclaimed feeling an odd mixture of relief and irritation. He read the short message quickly and tossed the sheet down onto the bar in annoyance. 3Is this all there is? Just `I1m sorry, see you later1? No explanation?ý Joe shrugged, equally irritated, 3That1s all she wrote.ý Duncan winced, 3Please.ý Joe grinned crookedly, 3It1s the first time I1ve ever seen a ODear John1 letter addressed to two people. Got to give her an OA1 for originality.ý Duncan glanced at the letter again, 3At least she apologized. I guess we should be grateful for that.ý He paused a moment, his initial irritation fading, 3I1m glad to know she1s okay. I was getting pretty worried.ý Joe set a beer down in front of Duncan and sighed. 3Yeah. I just wish she1d been a little more specific about where she was going and when she might be back. I mean, couldn1t she at least have given us a forwarding address?ý Duncan shrugged, 3I get the feeling she doesn1t want to be found. I1ve been there a time or two myself.ý Joe scowled, 3I guess that shows us how we rate.ý 3Don1t, Joe,ý Duncan commiserated with his friend, 3Don1t try to second guess her. We don1t know what1s going on in her life. And who knows? Even a mortal lifetime is long enough that you never know who you might meet again.ý Picking up his beer, he gestured for Joe to raise his glass as well, 3To absent friends,ý he said. 3To absent friends,ý Joe echoed. **** End, Part 1 In the Dark 8/14 In the Dark Part II 3Commander. I am picking up an automated distress signal in the Koto Barani system.ý Worf waited with his usual air of barely contained impatience for Riker to acknowledge the information and request additional details. Or not. 3Put it on audio, Mr. Worf.ý 3There is no audio available, sir. It is a beacon only.ý Riker suppressed a smile at Worf1s expression. As usual, the security chief seemed to be taking the lack of an audio signal personally. Riker frowned thoughtfully. He knew they were the only Federation ship in the area at the moment, whoever was in trouble might not get another chance. He looked back at Worf. 3Is there anything else you can tell me about it?ý Given a chance to provide his commanding officer with something, Worf consulted his board again. 3The beacon appears to be a Type IV, commonly used by small Federation trade vessels.ý 3Mr. Data, how late would we be picking up the Captain if we detoured to Koto Barani?ý 3Approximately three hours, Commander.ý 3Any ships reported missing in the area?ý Data accessed the necessary records, his hands playing over the console almost too fast for the eye, the human eye, to see. 3Three Federation ships equipped with Type IV emergency beacons have passed within four light years of the beacon1s location. Of those three, The Sorka has reached Star Base 108, the Monroe is presumably still enroute to Devani Prime. Only the Darius is currently unaccounted for. It was scheduled to deliver agricultural equipment and a variety of biological specimens to the colony on Valhalla 5 a week ago. The Darius is a two-man cargo vessel owned by the Highlands Trading Corporation. 3Mr. Data, increase speed to warp 4 and change course to rendezvous with that beacon. Mr. Worf, send word to the Captain, tell him we1re going to be a little late.ý **** Duncan closed the cover on the biopod1s maintenance hatch. So far, the embryos were still safe in their stasis fields. He leaned back against the bulkhead behind him and slid down to sit on the deck. Tired. So tired. Since crashing on this benighted planetoid five days ago (was it only five days?) he1d given himself little time to rest. Between trying to get the ship going again, repairing the beacon and checking his perishable cargo, his days had been full. Not full enough, though, to distract him from the fact that he hadn1t had food or water in those five days. His body was capable of pulling moisture directly from the air, and he could go quite a while without food, but it didn1t keep him from being hungry, and thirsty. He sat there, head back, eyes closed listening to the barely audible hiss of the life support and tried not to think of the shrouded stasis unit across the cargo bay. Jeremy. He1d been the most recent in a long line of Watchers who1d been assigned to Duncan over the centuries. After he1d discovered the Watchers late in the 20th century, the group had deemed it a waste of effort to keep his assigned Watchers a secret. He1d deemed it a waste of effort to to try to avoid them. Over the years he1d gotten to know a few of them, like Joe Dawson, Liam Anderson, and Jeremy Dikembe. Those few had been a welcome relief from the constant pretense and subterfuge that was an Immortal1s usual relationship with humans, they had proven to be friends as well as Watchers. Jeremy had volunteered to help him crew this trip because of their friendship, and now he lay dead at the impossibly young age of thirty. Duncan tried to remember being thirty but found it increasingly difficult. He shifted around a little, rested his head against a storage container and felt himself drifting off to sleep. His last thought before dropping into darkness was that if no one heard his beacon, immortality could prove to be a great disadvantage. **** Wind in his hair, and sunlight hot on his skin. God, it felt good. It seemed so long since he1d felt the wind or the warmth of sun on his face. And motion. He looked down to see he was riding a silver horse. Sparks flew from her metal hooves as they raced over the rocky plain. Suddenly, the land changed and he was walking through a darkened, ruined city. Fire lit the sky to the east in a maniacal false dawn. Distant screams traced the path of a marauding band of vigilantes who patrolled what was left of the city, one of many such groups. Duncan prowled the alleyways, searching for... something. He couldn1t remember what it was but he had to keep looking. Tired, he was so tired, but he couldn1t stop till he found it. He sat down on the hood of a burned out car to rest when it hit him, filling his head, freezing his heart and permeating him with an almost insane bloodlust. There was Another nearby. Sword in hand, he ran until he found himself on a rocky precipice on a world in perpetual twilight. The Presence was still with him, but he couldn1t find the source. Frantically, he searched until he was ready to drop, then with the Call so loud he was on the edge of madness, someone laughed behind him and he heard the unmistakable whir of a blade through the air, and felt its edge bite into his neck as he screamed. **** Beverly Crusher crouched down before the dark-haired man who sat propped against a stasis unit. He wore the stylized compass-rose badge of a commercial pilot on the collar of his utilitarian jumpsuit, so she knew what he was. Judging from the restlessness with which he slept, he was the throes of a nightmare. She reached out to shake him awake, then decided it might be better to get her scans done while he couldn1t object. In her experience, these commercial transport pilots could be an incredibly stubborn bunch when they tried... or even when they didn1t try. Opening up her tricorder, she leaned forward to bring it closer to him. Her eyes narrowed as the first, rather odd readings flashed across the readout. How strange... Suddenly, with a cry, his eyes flew open and he lunged forward, his shoulder connecting with her shoulder hard enough to throw her backwards several feet, where she skidded to a stop a few feet away, her pained yelp still echoing through the cargo bay. Wary blue eyes looked into the stranger1s unfocused brown ones. Slowly, he shook off the effects of whatever nightmare he1d had and he began to realize what must have happened. Rising and extending a hand, he approached her with a contrite expression. 3Are you all right? I1m very sorry, I... I...ý 3Not a morning person, are you?ý Bev asked, using humor to diffuse the tension. Rubbing her right shoulder, she let him help her up and looked around for her tricorder. 3Doctor!ý Worf appeared at the hatch, phaser drawn. 3I heard you cry out, are you all right?ý The Klingon, as regulations dictated, did not have his phaser pointed at the stranger since he was not obviously threatening anyone, but his stance indicated that his aim could change at a moment1s notice. At Worf1s approach, all traces of confusion disappeared from the stranger1s face. Gone was the embarrassment, in its place a flash of something... else. He stood lightly balanced on the balls of his feet and his hand made an abortive movement as if to reach for an accustomed weapon. 3It1s all right, Lieutenant,ý Beverly said as she continued to massage her sore shoulder. 3I1m afraid I startled him, and he startled me back.ý She smiled warmly at her `attacker,1 inviting him to share the joke. The pilot relaxed a bit, still eyeing Worf warily. 3I1d be grateful if you1d put the phaser away, then, Lieutenant. It does make me a bit... nervous.ý Beverly stared as she listened to him. That accent! Combined with the vague familiarity of his features, she knew she should know him. 3Excuse me, but are you from Caldos IV?ý He turned to her, eyes narrowed. 3No, why?ý 3You seem familiar, I thought perhaps we1d met before.ý He studied her for a moment, and then shook his head. 3I1m sure I would remember having met you before. However, my... father spent some years on Caldos IV, you might have seen him there.ý 3Perhaps. May I ask your name?ý 3MacLeod, Duncan MacLeod. And yours?ý 3Dr. Beverly Crusher, though back on Caldos IV, it used to be Beverly Howard.ý He focused on her face, studying her intently. 3Howard? Would you be any relation to Felisa Howard?ý 3She was my grandmother, why?ý 3My father mentioned her a time or two, said she was a grand lady. I1m honored to meet a descendant of hers!ý He bowed slightly from the waist, in a courtly fashion. Bev gazed at him thoughtfully, thinking him delightfully mannered and damned fine-looking to boot. 3Your father knew Nana? Hmmm... I don1t recall Nana mentioning anyone named MacLeod.ý 3How about an Ian MacGilvray?ý Her mouth dropped open. 3Ian MacGilvray? You1re kid... no, you1re not! That1s why you look so familiar! You look just like the holos she had of him! But your name is MacLeod?ý 3It1s my mother1s name,ý he grinned 3They weren1t married.ý Bev couldn1t help but return his smile. 3Why doesn1t that surprise me?ý He chuckled. 3I can1t imagine.ý As she was about to answer, Worf cleared his throat loudly, and she caught herself. 3Here I am reminiscing when there1s work to be done! Let me find my tricord... oh. Damn.ý She picked up the tricorder from where it had fallen and studied it in dismay. The instrument had hit the wall with enough force to disable it. She sighed. 3Well, I guess it1s up to time-honored methods now. Does anything hurt?ý He shook his head. 3Good. Your arm, please?ý Looking a bit puzzled, he extended one arm. She pushed up his sleeve, found his pulse, and started to count. A minute later, satisfied, she let him go. 3Lean down.ý He looked wary. 3Why?ý She grinned. 3I said lean down, not bend over. I just want to check your pupil response.ý He complied, and she saw amusement in his eyes. She noticed he had very long eyelashes, and his eyes were a rich, warm brown. Feeling a little annoyed with herself for noticing something like that at a time like this, she thumbed her search-beacon on and flashed it briefly upward. His eyes dilated equally, and she stepped back. 3Well, according to primitive methods, you seem fine, but I1d like to run a full scan on you back in sickbay to make sure. Worf, how do things look?ý 3Commander LaForge is assessing the situation in the engine room. Lieutenant Barclay reports that only one of the biopods appears to have sustained any damage. However there is a body in one of the stasis units.ý Worf sounded faintly disgusted, as if he were annoyed to have to deal with such an occurrence. MacLeod sighed and some of the life seemed to go out of him. 3My first officer, Jeremy Dikembe, was killed in the accident. I1ll notify his family as soon as I can get to a working comunit.ý 3What caused your vessel to crash?ý Worf asked, looking a bit suspicious. Beverly was pretty sure he hadn1t missed MacLeod1s abortive reach for a weapon earlier. 3I1m still not sure,ý MacLeod said. 3I1m a pilot, not an engineer. Jeremy handled that end of things. One minute we were doing warp 4 on course for Valhalla, the next all hell had broken loose and we were god-only- knows-where with only our thrusters working. Jer went back to the engine room and managed to get the impulse engines on-line but they failed again as I was trying to make planetfall. I managed to guide us into the flattest place I could find, but we hit pretty hard. I was knocked unconscious, and by the time I came to...ý he sighed. 3There was nothing I could do.ý 3What killed him?ý Beverly asked, wondering how MacLeod had managed to come through the accident apparently unscathed. 3Coolant leak. The emergency bulkheads in the engine room sealed the area off when the leak was detected, so the rest of the ship was unaffected. The automated systems vented the room, but it was too late. Jeremy was already gone.ý His voice sounded hollow, and his eyes closed for a moment. Bev reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. 3I1m sure you did everything you could.ý He took a deep breath and straightened, nodding. 3Thanks. Do you think I could speak to your engineer? I1d like to know if there1s any life left in the old girl.ý Beverly assumed he was talking about the ship. 3Certainly. Worf, you said Geordi was in the engine room?ý The Klingon nodded and led the way as they walked the short distance. 3How long have you been stuck here?ý Bev asked, looking back over her shoulder at MacLeod as they stepped into the engine room. 3Five days... no, six now. Not that long, in the overall scheme of things, but long enough that I1m certainly glad you heard the beacon. It wouldn1t have been pleasant to go much longer.ý 3I1d say not... especially with the replicators out.ý Geordi said, coming out from underneath a access-panel. 3You1re the pilot?ý MacLeod nodded, eyeing Geordi1s visor curiously. 3Then may I say that I1m impressed? I can1t believe you managed to land this thing basically intact using nothing but thrusters!ý MacLeod smiled. 3Thanks, it wasn1t easy. So... what1s the verdict on the Darius?ý LaForge looked unhappy. 3You1re not going to like it. The engines are beyond repair, and there1s major structural damage to the hull.ý Duncan sighed. 3I was afraid of that. I bought her used, and she1s been good, but when these ships go, they go,ý he looked around at them ruefully. 3I guess I1m going to have to bum a ride to the closest starbase and rent a salvager. What sort of ship are you from? Do you have room for a hitch-hiker?ý Geordi chuckled. 3I think we can spare a bunk and some cargo space for you. I1m Geordi LaForge, by the way, chief engineer aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise.ý The castaway looked momentarily stunned. 3The Enterprise? Good God... I1ve been rescued by the bloody Starfleet flagship?ý Bev grinned. 3That you have. We1ll have Barclay see to your cargo and you can beam back to sickbay with me.ý MacLeod stiffened, and shook his head. 3I1d like to oversee the cargo transfer myself, if you don1t mind. It means a lot to some people who are trusting me to bring it safe to them. I gave them my word.ý 3Lieutenant Barclay...ý 3Is a fine officer, I1m sure. I would expect no less of the Enterprise, but still, Otis my cargo, and I1d like to handle it. I1ll also need to see to having my own things transferred as well. It would be better if I could do this myself, please?ý Worf nodded. 3That seems a reasonable request. Follow me.ý Bev watched them go, a bit piqued, eyes narrowing. She knew a stall when she saw one, and MacLeod was definitely trying to avoid sickbay. Why? She touched her combadge. 3Crusher to Barclay.ý 3B-barclay here.ý 3When our guest finishes overseeing the cargo transfer, make sure you bring him to sickbay if you would.ý 3Yes ma1am. I m-mean... sir.ý She smiled. 3Thanks, Crusher out.ý **** Duncan checked the readouts one last time then stretched to work the kinks out of his back. He and Lieutenant Barclay had gone over all six of the remaining biopods to make sure they hadn1t sustained any hidden damage from the crash. The seventh had cracked like an egg when its supports gave way and it slammed into a bulkhead. Fortunately, it hadn1t contained anything terribly important and most of its cargo was duplicated in some of the other pods. Duncan patted the number 6 pod and smiled. This one had come through all right. 3I1m a-all f-finished ov-over here, sir. This one is... just f-fine.ý Barclay, ill at ease at the best of times, shifted from one foot to the other while his hands fluttered like wild things seeking shelter from a predator. 3So is this one. Fortunately.ý Duncan1s smile widened. Barclay hesitated, obviously curious about the contents of the pod, but uncertain if he should ask or not. Curiosity eventually won out over caution. 3`F-fortunately1, sir? What1s in it?ý 3Horses.ý Seeing the other man1s blank face, Duncan elaborated. 3Valhalla is a low-tech colony. In some areas, like medicine and communications, they use modern methods, but they grow their own food, and build their own homes from native materials, and choose to not use highly technological transportation except in extreme emergencies.ý 3They ride h-horses? N-no ground cars or t-transporters or-or anything?ý The engineer in Barclay couldn1t believe he was hearing the truth, but the closet romantic in him warmed to the idea. 3But, if they don1t have any mechanical means of t-transport, how... how have they managed without th-these horses? I mean, don1t they al-already have some?ý Duncan sobered and nodded. 3They did... until a few years ago. Then the horses on Valhalla developed something now called Reigert1s Syndrome. Half of them died and of those that survived, two-thirds were sterile. They1ve had to wait until they were certain they could guard against it before bringing in replacements.. A vaccine was developed and a few months ago they contracted for these embryos.ý Duncan noticed that his companion had stopped listening and was lost in his own thoughts. 3Lieutenant?ý Barclay started and looked down at the deck, embarrassed. 3I1m s-sorry, I was just wondering...ý 3Wondering what?ý 3Oh, I, well...ý, the shy engineer stammered a moment then took a deep breath and replied slowly,ý I was just w-wondering what it would be like to live in a p-place like that.ý He paused, as if seeking approval, 3I mean, we-we use technology for everything. I-it would be very strange I think.ý Duncan found himself warming to the awkward young officer. 3Tell you what, Lieutenant,ý Duncan took the datapad from Barclay1s hand and laid it down on the pod next to his own, 3I lived on Valhalla for a few years. I1ll tell you everything I know about it and how the people live there if you1ll show me where a man can get something to eat on this ship.ý Duncan took Barclay by the elbow and steered him toward the door. 3My replicators have been down since the crash, and I1m starving!ý 3Uh - Sir, I1m supposed, I mean, D-Dr. Crusher said...ý Duncan interrupted him as they exited into the corridor just a few yards from a turbolift. 3I know. I know. Dr. Crusher said for you to bring me to sickbay after we finished here. Well, you can still take me by sickbay, but we both need a break. I don1t want her to lecture me because my blood pressure1s too high and my blood-sugar1s too low.ý The lift1s doors whooshed open at their approach and Duncan looked guilelessly at his companion obviously waiting for Barclay to give the command. Barclay sighed in resignation, and stepped into the lift with MacLeod right behind him. 310-Forward,ý he said, and surprised himself by not stuttering. Even though he knew Dr. Crusher would not be pleased he was actually looking forward to spending more time with MacLeod. He was one of the few people Barclay had ever met that didn1t seem at all put off by Barclay1s manner, and besides, he was curious about Valhalla. The lift doors opened and Barclay stepped out. 3T-this way, sir.ý 3Come on, Barclay, call me Mac. I1m not your superior officer! Hell, I1m not even a Fleeter!ý Barclay was momentarily taken aback, but then he realized that MacLeod was extending a gesture of friendship. He nodded. 3Okay, Mac.ý It sounded a bit awkward, but he thought he could get used to it. 3In here,ý he said, gesturing to the elegant frosted-glass and wood doors of Ten-Forward which slid open at their approach. Mac stopped for a moment, looking around, and whistled softly. 3This is some mess hall!ý Barclay felt a rush of pride. 3The Enterprise is some ship.ý he stated fondly. 3We don1t have a mess hall. We have Ten-Forward.ý 3Aye, I can see that. Well, would you mind if we sat there?ý He indicated an empty table near the huge viewport. 3I1ve always had a weak spot for a good view.ý 3Anywhere you like.ý Mac made his way through the tables to the one he1d chosen. Barclay noticed he drew a few curious glances, mostly from women, and he had the sudden hopeful thought that maybe if he hung around with MacLeod for awhile, it might improve his image. 3So, Barclay, what do you recommend here?ý 3Anything.ý 3Anything? Really?ý 3Really. We have the best replicator programs in Starfleet.ý Duncan sighed. 3Replicators. Oh well.ý 3There1s a good selection of hydroponics too.ý MacLeod1s expression lightened. 3That sounds better. I confess, I prefer real food when I can get it.ý 3Is that a taste you acquired on Valhalla?ý 3No, I1ve always been that way, but it was easier to get real food there, for certain.ý 3I guess that would be an advantage. Is real food really all that different?ý He suddenly realized he hadn1t stammered in three or four sentences, and decided it must have something to do with MacLeod. MacLeod looked thoughtfully off at the stars, and finally nodded. 3Yes, and no. It doesn1t taste all that different, but the body knows. There1s earth, and air, water and sun in real food. Replicated food is missing those elements that give us life.ý Barclay goggled. Philosophy, from a Commercial Pilots Guildsman? Unheard of! He was fascinated. 3B-But replicated food is just transformed from other substances. W-Why don1t they have t-the same... elements?ý Damn. Stammering again. If he hadn1t noticed he was doing better, he wouldn1t have started again. Mac frowned reflectively. 3Perhaps they were once, but they1ve been transformed through mechanical means. They may nourish the body, but not the soul.ý 3Doesn1t technology<ý Barclay began only to be interrupted by a hail from his combadge. 3LaForge to Barclay.ý He tapped the device, activating it. 3Barclay here.ý 3I need you in Engineering. We1re running a recrystallization routine and we1re short-handed with Pfannen and Suvar both out.ý 3Aye sir. On my way.ý He sighed, and looked at MacLeod. 3I guess I1ll have to talk with you some other time.ý MacLeod nodded. 3Anytime, Lieutenant. I won1t have much to occupy me here.ý Barclay smiled, pleased that Mac was willing to talk again. 3I-I1ll see you around,ý he said, as he headed for the doors. MacLeod waved and turned back to the stars. **** With Barclay gone, Duncan felt a bit at a loss. He wasn1t sure where he was supposed to be, other than sickbay, and that he planned to avoid as long as possible. Medical technology had become entirely too efficient for his tastes. His physiology would drive the machines, and doctors, crazy. He flagged down a server and ordered a meal and an ale. He was more than pleased to find that the bar offered not only the popular synths1 but the real thing as well. Then he leaned back in his seat and looked out at the splendor before him. No matter how many years he spent in space, he never tired of the majesty of it all. Once again, he pitied the mortals around him. Having grown up with this spectacle at their beck and call, they had lost some of the awe that he felt would remain with him always. **** Guinan adjusted her hat one last time before leaving her quarters. The odd feeling that had woken her during the night was still with her. It was familiar, but she couldn1t quite place what it meant. A slight prickling at the back of her neck, a tension at the base of her spine. Whatever it was, she felt sure it would make itself known in its own good time. Greeting people as she headed toward 10-Forward, Guinan was aware of a growing sense of expectation. Whatever it was that put her on alert was getting closer. The simulated teak doors opened and Guinan glided into her domain, nodding to one of her waiters and speaking to several people on her way to the bar. What she was feeling right now she hadn1t felt in years, centuries, perhaps. She scanned the crowded room for... someone or something out of the ordinary. There, by the port in the forward corner of the room, a man with long dark hair pulled neatly back, seated alone, body half turned from the room, eyes rapt on the passing stars. Her pulse-rate picked up, her breath going shallow as she suddenly realized who it was. As the first flush of stunned surprise passed, a smile lit her face and she began to weave her way over to his table. Whether he was intent on the view or his own thoughts, she couldn1t tell, but it was him. She knew that face well, she knew that... presence too. Impossible though it was, she knew this man, though she1d thought him centuries dead. For a moment she doubted herself. Perhaps, just perhaps the resemblance wasn1t as great as it seemed. Maybe he was merely a descendant of her long-dead friend. Either way, she had to meet him. She had to know. The chair closest to her was turned slightly out from the table, as if someone had just left, or as if he were waiting for someone. Never having been one to let an opportunity slip, Guinan slid into it. The man turned, shock coloring his face as he recognized her. That told her everything she needed to know. It was him. 3So, it is you. I don1t know how, but it1s you.ý She grinned, and assumed a very bad Cuban accent. 3You got some Osplaining to do, Duncan MacLeod.ý **** In the Dark, Part 9/14 Duncan was on his feet and reaching instinctively for his sword, when for the second time that day remembered it wasn1t at hand. He1d had to bring it aboard in his baggage, which had been beamed directly to his quarters, wherever that was. Seconds after that, he realized that he hadn1t felt the unmistakable Presence of a fellow Immortal. He sat back down, warily, hoping he hadn1t looked as odd as he suspected he had; and leaned forward, studying her face intently. She looked only a little older, but much, much wiser. He saw a world of experience in her eyes, and wondered if his own looked like that as well. 3Guinan... my God! Is it really you?ý 3It is. I could ask the same, but the look on your face already answered that question. It1s been a long time, Duncan.ý He shook his head, looking amazed. 3Now there1s an understatement if ever I1ve heard one! I don1t understand, how can you still be alive? What are you?ý 3I1m an El-Aurian. I used that as my name when I knew you, but it1s really the name of the world I was born on. My people have very long lifespans compared to humans. Or should I say to most humans? Now it1s my turn. What are you?ý He sighed, and shook his head. 3Good question. Am I human? I1ve never been quite sure.ý He looked around and realized that several of those closest to them were watching them curiously, and probably trying their best to eavesdrop as well. He couldn1t have that. 3Guinan, can we go somewhere more private to talk? This is too... public for my needs.ý She eyed him narrowly. 3Secrets, Duncan?ý 3Please, Guinan.ý She studied him a moment longer, then nodded. 3Follow me.ý She stood up and began to walk toward the door. As he followed, he registered her clothing rather than her face, and frowned, a little puzzled by their rather nun-like aspect. He remembered her wearing bright, African-inspired prints that he thought had suited her well. He smiled, realizing that those `suitable1 styles had been as foreign to her as a Vulcan1s robes would be to him. Was her current dress haute-couture on El-Auria? Probably. She led him out of Ten-Forward and around the corner to a door where she keyed in a lock sequence. It opened onto a large stateroom, she stepped inside, and motioned him in. 3Welcome to my parlor.ý He chuckled. 3I seem to remember you saying that to me once before.ý 3You have a good memory.ý 3Amazingly enough, I do. I sometimes wonder how, considering how much I have to remember.ý 3How old are you, anyway?ý 3I was born in 1592,ý he smiled wryly. 3In just a little over two-hundred years, I1ll be a thousand.ý She looked a bit stunned, and sat down abruptly. He took a seat across from her as she spoke again 3I can1t believe this! You1re older than I am! I1m still around because for my people, that1s normal, but how can you still be alive? You owe me some answers. Are you alien? Clone? Android?ý He laughed. 3Android? Now there1s a new one! I wonder if I could get away with that?ý His smile faded, and he sighed. 3You deserve the truth. I was born on Earth, and lived most of my life there. As far as I know I1m human, but my unusual physiology has allowed me to live far beyond what1s normal for humankind. There are others who, like me, live very long lives, though compared to the general populace we1re quite rare. We1ve been called Immortals by some, though that1s somewhat of a misnomer. It1s true that after a certain point we don1t age, and we don1t die under normal circumstances, but there are ways we can be killed permanently. Decapitation, certain types of energy weapon. If we1re killed, temporarily, by anything less than that, we generally recover.ý She stared at him for a long time, then shook her head in clear amazement. She shook her head, smiling ruefully. 3Here I thought I knew just about everything there was to know about Humans, and then you tell me this! I... why didn1t you tell me when I knew you before?ý He looked at her, one expressive eyebrow lifted. 3You really have to ask that? I don1t remember you telling me you were an alien, either.ý She smiled. 3You1re right. But why should you have had to hide it? You weren1t an alien.ý 3It1s not something I normally tell anyone about. We have to hide what we are, we1ve always had to. When we1ve been found out in the past, we1ve been seen as witches, demons, aliens... whatever society fears is realized in us, though in truth most of us would rather help humankind than harm it. We represent too much of a temptation to too many people, and despite our immortality, we1re too vulnerable.ý He sighed. 3Then, too, we have to hide from our own kind.ý 3From your own kind? Why?ý 3Because of the Game.ý 3What game?ý He shook his head, his expression eloquent of disgust. 3It1s a stupid name, for it1s no game at all. It1s deadly serious. There is an essence, an energy, that1s released when we die. If one of us kills another, the killer gains that essence. Each gain makes us stronger, harder to kill, more... powerful. We have no knowledge of why we are, of what or who we are. The single rule we live by have says that we have to keep killing each other until there1s only one of us left.ý She looked horrified. 3Duncan! That1s...ý she broke off, groping for a kinder way to say what he knew she was thinking. 3Insane?ý He supplied. 3I know. I decided that a long, long time ago. I1ve tried to avoid it, but sometimes, when they hunt me down, I can1t.ý 3Dane! He was one of you? That finally begins to make sense. He was an immortal, like you!ý Duncan nodded, his expression bleak. 3He was.ý 3And the woman Dane tortured, your lover, the one you told me about, she was too?ý He closed his eyes briefly, and nodded again. 3So when you killed her, you gained this... power, from her? Oh Duncan, no wonder you felt so guilty! That1s horrible!ý He shuddered. 3It1s one of the worst things I1ve ever had to do. But she begged me. I couldn1t refuse her.ý 3I know. We1ve been through this, you know I don1t fault you for it. Duncan, this explains so much that never quite made sense! The way you reacted to certain things, way you feel...ý 3The way I feel?ý he queried, clearly curious. 3Your presence, your `aura,1 if you will, is so much stronger than that of most humans. I never understood why, before, now I do. It also explains why I felt something similar from Dane. And it tells me what Evan Conroy was trying to gain by those killings.ý Duncan nodded. 3Dane had convinced him that he could become one of us by killing. It wouldn1t have worked, of course. The only way to become an Immortal is to be born one. But Evan wanted it so badly, he believed Dane when he told him that,ý he shook his head, sadly. 3Poor Evan. He1s not the first to want immortality, nor will he be the last. Fortunately for him, he didn1t have to find out the hard way that it1s not all it1s cracked up to be.ý Guinan looked at him quietly for a moment, her eyes narrowed. 3Having a hard time with it, are you?ý He slouched back in his chair and nodded. 3Aye. Sometimes I wonder if I haven1t lived long enough.ý She sighed, looking off into some unknown distance. 3I know what you mean. I1ve felt that. It1s hard not to, sometimes. You wonder why you1re still here when so many others aren1t, you wonder what purpose you serve.ý 3Exactly.ý He was surprised to realize how good it felt to talk like this, to have someone understand what he felt, and know it wasn1t just lip service. She1d been there. She knew. 3I1m glad we met again,ý she said suddenly. 3I1ve never been happy with the way we parted.ý 3Me either. It1s funny, you and I could have told each other our secrets then, and been better off! But we didn1t realize it.ý 3That1s the thing about secrets. They isolate us, even when they don1t need to.ý He put hand behind his neck, trying to massage out the tension there, and flexed his shoulders. That led to a yawn, and he shot an apologetic glance her way. 3Sorry, I1m tired. I1ve been trying to keep my ship running on chewing gum and bailing wire since she went down. It1s been a long five days.ý 3It was your ship that went down on Koto Barani?ý Guinan asked, then seconds later she smiled and shook her head, answering her own question. 3Of course, where else could you have come from? What happened?ý 3I honestly don1t know. The Darius was an old ship, but she was in good shape, and we never had any kind of engine problems before. And it wasn1t just the engines, either. It was everything. Engines, navigation, hell, even the replicators went offline! The only system that didn1t fail was life-support. If I could think of a reason why, I might suspect someone sabotaged the ship. But what I was carrying wouldn1t be valuable to anyone but the Valhallans. There1s no logical reason for anyone to sabotage my ship.ý 3Duncan, a ship doesn1t have to be old to have systems failures. We have them all the time! In fact, if I hear Geordi grousing about the starboard power coupling one more time, I1ll scream! Sometimes things just happen. Don1t let yourself get paranoid.ý 3You1re right, of course. I just want someone to blame for Jeremy1s death besides myself. And no, you don1t have to remind me that it wasn1t my fault. I know it already.ý He leaned back, and closed his eyes for a moment, as much to shut out her sympathy as to rest for a moment. 3You are tired, aren1t you? Why don1t you go to your quarters and rest?ý He opened his eyes and sat forward again. 3I was hungry, I asked Barclay where I could get dinner.ý 3But you1ve taken care of that now?ý 3I did, thanks.ý 3So, what1s the real reason?ý He stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed. 3Don1t tell me... El-Aurians are telepathic.ý 3Not exactly, but sort of. Enough to know when someone1s lying to me, in any case.ý He grinned wryly, shaking his head. 3It figures. All right, I admit it. I1m trying to avoid Dr. Crusher.ý 3Why?ý 3I don1t want her finding out what I am, and if I set foot in sickbay, she1ll know something1s up. She thinks she needs to examine me and won1t believe me when I tell her I1m fine.ý Guinan chuckled. 3That1s our Beverly all right. But you could have gone straight to your quarters and gotten both rest and food... they did assign you quarters, right?ý 3Probably, but I haven1t a clue where. After I checked in my cargo with Lieutenant Barclay, he took me to Ten Forward, and then he had to leave. Frankly, I1m a bit lost here. My ship was big enough for me, and my first officer, and that1s about it. The Enterprise is a blessed floating city. Besides, even if they have assigned me quarters, I can1t go there, because then she1ll know where to find me.ý 3True, but you can1t avoid her forever.ý He grinned. 3No, but I might just be able to avoid her until I can think of a good way to put her off.ý Guinan laughed, and the rich, throaty sound took him back years. It was somehow fitting that he1d met her again in a bar. She glanced up at something over his left shoulder, then back at him. 3Look, I have to get back to Ten-Forward, there1s a new shift about to start and I need to be there. You1re welcome to stay here if you like. She won1t be able to find you, and you can sleep. I won1t be back for hours. How does that sound? He sighed. 3Like heaven, but you1re sure I1m not putting you out.ý 3What are old friends for? Beverly will probably be annoyed with me, but I1ll pretend I didn1t know she was looking for you. The bedroom and bathroom are that way,ý she pointed. 3Feel free to use both. The replicator1s in the corner there if you get hungry again.ý She stood up, and he rose as well, reaching out to catch her hand. 3Thank you, I know you1ve no reason to trust me, not after all this time. I appreciate it more than I can say.ý She gazed at him for a long moment, then her eyelids hid her all-too- expressive eyes from him. 3The fact that you once risked your life to save mine might have some bearing on the matter. I1ll see you in a few hours.ý On that note, she left. He looked around, not wanting to pry, but curious about her tastes. The compartment seemed peculiarly muted, like her clothing. He saw no past in her room, no mementos, no artifacts... nothing that betrayed the fact that she, like he, had more years than met the eye. He found that rather odd, considering the fact that unlike him, she lived here. There seemed barely more possessions than would fit into a couple of carryalls. Feeling somewhat of an intruder, he went to the bedroom. Like the sitting room, her bedroom was almost spartan. Her bed was wide, though, and looked comfortable, covered with what looked like a down comforter, and piled with pillows. He touched it, and found it firm, but yielding. He sat down, and started to lie back, then changed his mind. Shower first. He hadn1t had a bath in days, and he1d had too many centuries of etiquette drummed into him to do something that inconsiderate. He got up and headed for the bathroom. **** Guinan paused a moment outside her quarters and reached up to touch her headdress. After a moment1s hesitation, she slipped it off. For some reason she wanted to be the Guinan she had been when she had first met Duncan, rather than the Guinan she had become in the intervening years. It felt odd to take it off, as if she had removed a shield from between herself and the rest of the world. She hadn1t realized she1d been doing that. Funny how you could help everyone else with their problems and still not be able to see your own. It had been four hours since she had left him in her quarters. For most of that time she1d fought the urge to go check on him. She1d finally given in, realizing it was in part simply the need to make sure she hadn1t imagined it all. She ran a hand through her hair, which she still wore in a multitude of sleek braids, as she had all those years ago. A crewman passed and glanced at her briefly, then stared. She forced herself to nod politely, and he looked embarrassed and moved on. He1d probably never seen her without her head covered before. Very few people aboard the ship ever had. She looked down at herself, and realized she1d been hiding behind her clothes as well. She hadn1t denied herself lovely colors or textures, but she had chosen styles as androgenous as a J1naii1s. It was as if with the death of her world, she had tried to deny her own love of life. She had become prematurely old, dispensing wisdom and empathy, but refusing anything in return. Only now did she begin to see how empty that was. She sighed and entered her quarters, quietly, leaving the lights low. He was there. She could sense him, sleeping, and didn1t want to disturb him. She sat down for a few moments on the couch and tried to relax, but she felt as if she were a cat someone had been petting backwards.... full of static electricity and on edge. This was ridiculous! Just plain silly! She got up to return to Ten-Forward, and stopped. She had to go look. She had to see him with her eyes, not just her Othersense. He was sprawled out on her bed in the boneless relaxation of deep sleep. Judging from the amount of skin showing here and there beneath the rumpled covers, he was naked. She kept her eyes on his face. It was funny how all men seemed to have the ability to look incredibly innocent when they slept, no matter how old or how experienced they actually were. Duncan was definitely no exception. She noticed again that he had incredibly long eyelashes. They probably rivaled Deanna1s. In fact, he had a rather Betazoid look about him, that sort of same unconscious grace and sensuality. She made a face. `Stop thinking about sensuality, Guinan,1 she admonished herself silently. `It1s not a good idea.1 Shaking her head, she turned to leave, and brushed against the small table next to the door. It rattled, and he stirred at the sound, rolling onto his stomach. She froze, and watched him for long moments until she was sure he wasn1t going to wake up. Finally reassured, she relaxed, but she didn1t stop watching him. Damn, the man was surely a work of art. He looked awfully good lying there in her bed, his skin seeming dark against the creamy linens. It was so tempting to just reach over and see if he felt as good as he looked. `No! No, no, no! You will stop that,1 she told herself sternly. `He1s off limits. He1s a human, he1s just a baby, and you1re a... O She stopped suddenly, feeling as if someone had just turned on a light. She was thinking in the past! He wasn1t just a baby, he was a good two-hundred years her senior! This wasn1t twentieth-century Earth, and she wasn1t on a research visit any more. There were no rules to follow, save those she made herself. This was now, here, and there was no reason on earth why she shouldn1t indulge herself, should the opportunity present itself. A smile curved her mouth. This could be fun. She stepped out into her sitting room again, and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She studied her reflection, dissatisfied with it. This wasn1t who she wanted to be right now. After a moment1s thought she went to the replicator and began to program it. **** Deanna Troi stretched and sighed, wiggling her toes in her uniform boots, wishing she1d changed clothes before coming down to Ten-Forward for dinner. Toes were not meant to be cramped up in shoes all day. They were meant to go barefoot on soft carpets of grass. She indulged in a brief fantasy of that, and had just gotten to the part where she was about to wade into a crystal-clear stream when she became aware that she was no longer alone. She glanced up, and had to look twice before she recognized the woman who stood by her side. 3Guinan?ý she asked incredulously. The woman nodded, a mass of dark braids bouncing as she did, and she smiled. Her smile was instantly recognizable even if the rest of her wasn1t. 3What can I do for you?ý she asked, still smiling. 3Me?ý Deanna managed, weakly, taking in the changes. Gone was the halo-esque cap, and matronly tunic-and-trouser combination she had affected ever since Deanna had known her. In its place was a flowing and highly flattering vest-like garment of painted silk over a snug-fitting teal bodysuit. Somehow she looked years younger, and both less and more approachable. Guinan smiled. 3Don1t you usually want something when you come in here? What1ll it be?ý 3Oh, yes. Well, I... Guinan! What have you done?ý Guinan laughed. 3I needed a change. I was tired of being Our Lady of Ten-Forward.ý Deanna sat forward, letting her empathic senses range out, and was startled by what she found. Guinan obviously sensed her probe, because she shook her finger in mock-reproach. 3Now, now, Deanna Troi, you know that1s not polite!ý Deanna grinned. 3It1s not, but it works. Who is he?ý Guinan grinned back. 3A very, very old friend.ý 3One of your people?ý 3Not... exactly.ý 3I want to meet him!ý 3You will, I1m sure. In fact, Beverly1s probably going to ask you to try to bring him into sickbay for her.ý Deanna stared at her, puzzled. 3Why? Is he ill?ý 3No, he just doesn1t like doctors.ý 3Now that1s not true, doctors are fine people, I just don1t happen to need one.ý The voice from behind her had been preceded by an almost overwhelming sense of presence. Deanna turned to see who that sensation, and the mellifluous baritone belonged to, and found herself gaping. He was a big man, olive-skinned and dark haired. He had beautiful dark eyes, and a mouth that made her think of candle-lit bedrooms and satin sheets. He was smiling at Guinan in a way that certainly explained what had prompted her sudden transformation! Before Deanna could gather her wits, his eyes narrowed and the teasing smile on his face faded as his skin turned chalky- pale. 3Thalassa?ý he asked, looking and sounding as if he1d seen a ghost. Deanna felt a wave of emotions from him; fear, surprise, elation, loss, guilt. It was physically painful to feel what he was going through, and it had come as too much of a surprise to put up shields against. She put out a hand as if to bodily push him away. 3Please, stop. I can1t< it hurts!ý He stepped back, still looking stunned, and the sensations faded somewhat. She relaxed a little, rubbing her temples. 3Thank you, that helps.ý 3You1re Betazoid.ý he said, realization dawning as he looked at her dark-in-dark eyes. 3God, I1m sorry! I didn1t realize! It1s just that you look so much like her! I1m afraid it was kind of a shock.ý 3Her?ý Guinan asked, her voice sounding rather odd. 3The woman you...ý her question trailed off but it was clear he knew what she meant. He nodded. 3Yes. Her.ý The guilt-feelings strengthened and Deanna flinched. Guinan stepped forward and put out her hand, gently touching his arm. 3Duncan, you know it wasn1t your fault.ý He swallowed hard and nodded slowly, and the feelings subsided to a more manageable level, leaving behind melancholy and resignation in their wake. He shook it off enough to turn to Deanna, his expression concerned. 3I1m sorry I hurt you, but for just a moment I thought you were someone I< lost, a long time ago. You could be her twin.ý 3It1s all right, you couldn1t have known I was an empath, and you were obviously surprised by my appearance. I1m Deanna Troi, I1m the ship1s counselor.ý He took her hand and briefly brushed his lips across it. She shivered pleasantly, thinking she could do with more of that. But no, this one was off-limits. The last person she1d want to offend was Guinan. 3I1m Duncan MacLeod, pilot, late of the Darius.ý As he introduced himself, she realized he was the man they1d rescued from the crashed ship. 3You1re an old friend of Guinan1s?ý she asked, trying to steer the conversation to less painful subjects. 3What a coincidence that we should be the ones to find you!ý 3Aye... I didn1t even know she was still alive.ý He exchanged a warmly amused glance with Guinan. 3Nor I him.ý Guinan echoed, that same amusement lacing her tones. 3Are you El-Aurian too?ý Duncan looked at Guinan again, smiling as if they shared a secret, and slowly shook his head. 3No, I1m human, born and raised on Earth.ý Deanna thought that highly unlikely, but she didn1t call him on it. He certainly didn1t feel human. He was far too intense. Still, she realized with a start that he hadn1t been lying about being born and raised on Earth. Maybe he was half-human, like herself. 3So why does Dr. Crusher want to see you?ý She1s afraid I might have been injured in the crash. I1ve assured her that I1m fine, but she1d rather see for herself.ý 3That is her job.ý Deanna pointed out, defending her friend. 3It is, but I1m not one of her crew.ý 3True,ý she admitted, though in actuality she suspected it was because he knew Beverly would see right through his little pretense of being human. Ordinarily that attempted deception would send out warning flags all over the place, but she trusted Guinan to know friend from foe. Whatever reason he had for his masquerade, she knew Guinan wouldn1t let him endanger the ship or its crew. It made her faintly uncomfortable to be party to his subterfuge, no matter how innocent it might be, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. 3Would you like to join me? I was about to have dinner.ý He shook his head. 3No, thanks, I1ve eaten, but I appreciate the offer. Guinan, can I have a word with you?ý She nodded and they moved away together to the far end of the bar, speaking quietly. Deanna toyed momentarily with the idea of trying to probe the newcomer further, then thought better of it. She had to trust Guinan in this. She looked around the room, and noticed that other people appeared interested in Guinan and her companion as well. That was not really surprising. Guinan1s metamorphosis was nothing short of amazing, and Duncan MacLeod was, quite frankly, beautiful. It would be hard not to notice them. A familiar figure strode through the doors and she lifted a hand to wave Worf over, then stopped. He looked like a thundercloud, and his gaze was focused on MacLeod. Uh-oh. Trouble. She watched him march across the room toward his quarry, and decided maybe she was needed there, if only because she had a calming influence on Worf. She stood and hurried across to join them. 3Mr. MacLeod,ý Worf rumbled, at his most formal, and most menacing. 3You brought weapons aboard this ship without notifying me,ý MacLeod turned from his conversation with Guinan, clearly surprised. 3Weapons?ý he echoed blankly. 3The transporter logs registered two bladed weapons amongst your belongings.ý Duncan relaxed visibly. 3Oh, the swords! Forgive me, I didn1t think to notify you, I didn1t realize you would need to know. They1re heirlooms, I couldn1t leave them on the Darius for salvagers to carry off.ý That was apparently not the answer Worf had expected. He looked grudgingly mollified, and Deanna was relieved that she wasn1t going to have to intervene. 3I would like to inspect them.ý 3I would be more than happy to let you see them, if I knew where they were. At the moment, I really don1t know where they ended up.ý 3Your personal items were transported directly to your quarters.ý 3I know, but I don1t know where that is.ý 3You were not informed of the location of your quarters?ý Duncan shook his head and Worf looked annoyed. 3Lieutenant Barclay should have familiarized you with them.ý MacLeod studied Worf, and spoke calmly. 3Lt. Barclay was called away to Engineering by Commander LaForge before he had a chance to tell me. It was not an error on his part.ý Deanna1s appreciation for the man went up. It was very considerate of him to make the effort to keep Barclay out of trouble. It wasn1t something many people would have thought of. Worf nodded acknowledgement. 3Thank you, I will bear that in mind. You have been assigned to guest quarters on deck 10, not far from here. I will escort you there.ý MacLeod looked past Deanna to Guinan. 3Later?ý he queried. She nodded. 3I1ll find you.ý Worf looked from MacLeod to Guinan, a rather puzzled expression on his face as he studied the bartender. Deanna suspected he was as surprised by her appearance as she had been. He finally looked away from her to MacLeod, and spoke. 3If you will follow me?ý MacLeod nodded and followed him out, leaving Guinan and Deanna at the bar. 3He seems like an interesting man.ý Deanna commented mildly. Guinan chuckled. 3You don1t know the half of it.ý 3Oh? Tell me more?ý 3Nope, not me. It1s not my place to tell. Suffice it to say, there1s more to Duncan MacLeod than meets the eye.ý Deanna made a disgusted face. 3Well I could tell that much without your help, Guinan! You1re a terrible tease!ý She laughed out loud 3Guilty. Now, are you ever going to order dinner, or are you fasting tonight?ý 3Fast? Me?ý With a grin, Deanna allowed herself to be distracted. She had less than 3 hours before they rendezvoused with the shuttle the Captain was on, and she wanted a chance to finalize her crew report. Jean- Luc Picard was one of the few people she knew who usually returned from leave more stressed than before they left. As for Duncan MacLeod, she1d have to find out more about him some other way. She wondered what sort of records the Pilot1s Guild kept, and if they were accessible to the public. **** In the Dark, 10/14 Picard leaned back into the sofa in his ready room with a sigh and reached for his tea. If there was anything he disliked more than being forced into going on leave it was picking up the pieces afterward. Riker could easily have dealt with three-quarters of the reports listed on his screen, but regulations required that they come to his attention. As if it mattered whether or not he knew the serial number of the new port relay assembly. His doorchime tweedled and brought him out of his reverie. 3Come.ý He felt the almost imperceptible alteration in his bearing as he went from being Oman1 to `Captain1. Seeing Counselor Troi enter the room, the `Captain1 persona relaxed a little, but remained dominant. He started to rise, but she waved him to remain seated, which he did. 3Counselor, please, sit down. What may I do for you? Would you care for some tea?ý He didn1t have to be an empath to know that something was bothering her. Who counsels the counselor, he wondered with a touch of amusement. She declined his offer of tea and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. She placed her hands deliberately in her lap as if by that act she could also place her obviously troubled thoughts in order. The silence stretched between them for a few moments, he sipping his tea, she lost in whatever quandary had brought her here. Finally, Troi1s shoulders straightened a little and her expression changed to one of decision. 3Captain, I hesitate to bother you with this at all, but there1s something I think you should know.ý 3Yes, Deanna?ý With his use of her name his Captain persona slipped another notch. After all the years of serving together, not to mention all she had done for him, she deserved more than the attention of a commanding officer. Right now, she looked as if she needed a friend. 3Have you met our guest, Duncan MacLeod?ý He studied her, trying to gauge her level of disquiet. She seemed concerned, but not overly so. 3No, I haven1t had an opportunity yet, though I have read the away- team1s reports and spoken to Commander Riker about him. Is there something that isn1t in the reports that you think I should know?ý Troi looked down at her hands, then back up at him. 3Did the reports mention that he and Guinan are old friends?ý A friend of Guinan1s? He felt a surge of surprise and curiosity, and just a little trepidation. Guinan had some very interesting old acquaintances; among them the entity `Q1, for example. It was enough to make one a bit wary. However, he himself was also an old friend of Guinan1s, and Deanna had termed this man a friend. He trusted Guinan1s judgement on that score. His reply was careful. 3Guinan probably has many old friends, and she has exhibited a rather striking fondness for humans for quite a< long time.ý He smiled remembering the first time he and Guinan had met. 3That1s just it, sir.ý Troi held his gaze steadily, 3He says he1s human but he1s not human.ý Picard leaned forward, his eyes intent. 3Would you care to elaborate on that?ý She shifted uncomfortably. 3I can1t really. I just know he1s not human. I1ve never met a human who< feels like he does.ý He frowned slightly, preferring more solid evidence. 3So you1re reporting a feeling?ý She nodded. 3Yes sir. I just thought you ought to know.ý 3Have you discussed this with anyone else?ý She looked offended. 3No, of course not!ý 3Have you asked Guinan about him?ý 3No sir, I< wasn1t entirely sure of her objectivity in this matter.ý His eyebrows went up. 3Now that1s an interesting statement. Guinan is one of the most objective people I1ve ever met. What reason do you have to think that1s changed?ý 3Have you seen her since you got back?ý 3No, I haven1t had an opportunity to go down to Ten-Forward yet.ý 3Go. You1ll see what I mean.ý He sat back and looked at her over steepled fingers. 3You have me intrigued, Counselor. Do you think MacLeod is a danger to the ship or crew?ý She thought about that for a moment, then shook her head. 3No, I don1t. He1s a very charming man, I don1t think he would cause any harm, but the deception bothers me. That, and Worf.ý That got his attention. 3What about Lieutenant Worf?ý 3It1s just that a few hours ago he was suspicious and wary of MacLeod, yet when I saw him just now in the turbolift, he spoke of him as an `honorable warrior,1 and told me he1s invited him to participate in a holodeck workout! That1s not like Worf!ý Picard gazed at her thoughtfully. 3I can see why that might concern you, Counselor, but actually, I think it1s quite like Worf. Once you1ve proven yourself to him, he accepts you without reservation. It appears he has done so with our guest, however it would set my mind at ease if you were to speak to Worf and ascertain the reasons behind his actions. I take it that you1ve not had time to do so yet?ý 3No, I just saw him for a moment as I was on my way here. I did plan to speak to him about it, though.ý 3Good. Is there anyone else you feel MacLeod has had an undue influence on?ý Deanna thought about his question, and slowly nodded. 3Yes, actually there is.ý 3Who?ý 3Lieutenant Barclay, sir.ý 3In what way?ý 3Well, he was assigned to help MacLeod transfer his cargo to the Enterprise. A little while ago I got a call from him. He was terribly excited, telling me that because of his conversation with MacLeod, he1s going to study cooking, and organic farming techniques, and has even enrolled in Worf1s mok1bara class, because, as he put it, `I want to know what it1s like to work hard, physically.1 Does that sound like Barclay to you?ý He reviewed what she1d told him, and gazed at her, puzzled. 3If you1ll forgive me, Counselor, those sound like positive developments. It1s difficult to consider this man a threat under the circumstances.ý She sighed. 3I know, and I wouldn1t even have mentioned it at all, if it weren1t for the deception. I just makes me wonder.ý 3I understand, Deanna, and I1ll check into it.ý He stood and stretched, working the kinks out of his back. 3I think it1s time for a trip down to Ten-Forward. Which has the added benefit of getting me out from under this damned paperwork for a few minutes, so I1m grateful to you for bringing this matter to my attention!ý That broke her tension and she smiled. 3Anytime, captain.ý **** Picard walked into Ten-Forward and noticed the automatic hush that always accompanied his entry into a room. After a moment conversations started again, but with a bit less animation. He walked over to the bar and looked around, not spotting Guinan1s familiar headgear anywhere, though he did see Lt. Barclay conversing animatedly with Ensign Barrow from Hydroponics. That was a surprise. Barclay talking? To a woman? Not silent or stammering? Interesting. He approached the bar and got the attention the young man who was working the counter. 3Excuse me, I1m looking for Guinan, have you seen her recently?ý A quick smile tugged at one corner of the server1s mouth. 3Yes sir, she1s right there.ý He pointed over Picard1s shoulder. Picard turned and looked. He didn1t see her. 3Where?ý 3There sir, in the rust and olive.ý He looked again, this time looking for the colors the man had described. The only woman wearing them was standing a few feet away next to one of the tables, talking and laughing with its occupant. Her back was to Picard, and it was clear from her figure that it wasn1t Guinan. He shook his head. 3Perhaps you didn1t hear me correctly, I was looking for Guinan.ý This time the server chuckled. 3Yes sir, I know. That1s her.ý Picard looked again, just in time to see the woman turn toward another table. He stared. By God, it was her! But... it wasn1t. She was wearing a dress, one not too unlike something he remembered Kamala wearing, and her hair was free of its usual confinement, framing her face in a mass of thin braids. She looked like an entirely different person. She saw him, and grinned, moving closer with that gliding walk that was her trademark. He was relieve to see that hadn1t changed. 3Jean-Luc! Welcome back, it1s good to see you! How was your vacation?ý 3Guinan?ý he said, stunned. 3Twenty-three.ý she said, making a wry face. 3Excuse me?ý 3You1re the twenty-third person today to say my name in exactly those tones. I should have done this years ago. I seem to have shocked you all senseless.ý 3I wouldn1t say shocked,ý Picard began. 3I would,ý Guinan interrupted. 3I saw your face.ý He chuckled. 3All right, you have me there. You look lovely.ý She preened. 3Thank you, that1s better.ý 3I had no idea you...ý he broke off, realizing he was about to put his foot firmly into his mouth. She laughed at him. 3You had no idea I cleaned up so well? Just as well you didn1t say that.ý She steered him toward a seat at the bar and took the one opposite him. 3How was your trip?ý 3Boring. How was yours?ý 3Not. We had a bit of excitement.ý 3So I1m given to understand. I hear he1s an old friend of yours.ý 3That he is.ý She smiled as she answered, and he saw something in her smile he1d never noticed in her before. He found it very appealing, and he found himself wondering why he1d never noticed how attractive she was. Her comment gave him an opening, though, and he was still enough in Captain mode to pursue it. 3How old a friend?ý he asked lightly. 3Older than some, not so old as others,ý she temporized. 3That1s not quite the answer I need, Guinan. I hope you1ll forgive me if this seems crass, but I feel I should make certain. Some of your old acquaintances have had a rather disruptive effect on this ship and its crew, to put it mildly. Is MacLeod one of that sort?ý Her eyes widened, and she stiffened in obvious offense. 3No! Remember, Jean-Luc, `Q1 approached you on his own. Had I been on board then, things might have turned out differently. You, of all people, should know better than to think I wouldn1t warn you about anyone I felt could pose even the slightest threat!ý He took her hand. 3Guinan, I1m sorry, I don1t doubt that, but I thought it was quite possible that you hadn1t warned me because I wasn1t here when he came aboard. Also, Counselor Troi admits to being a bit disturbed by him, and it would not be right of me not to check.ý She looked at him for a long moment, then gave his hand a quick squeeze. 3You1re forgiven. As for Deanna, I1d be surprised if she wasn1t disturbed by Duncan. I find him a bit<ý she grinned and winked at him. 3...disturbing, myself.ý He was surprised to find himself grinning back at her rather foolishly, and wondering if she were free for dinner. Before he could make an idiot of himself by asking, she spoke again. 3You haven1t met him yet, have you? He and Worf went down to Holodeck 4 nearly an hour ago to do `calisthenics,1 as Worf likes to call it. Anyway, they ought to be about finished. Why don1t you go introduce yourself?ý Picard thought about Guinan1s unexpected metamorphosis, and Barclay1s, and nodded. 3I think I shall.ý She smiled and made her way back toward the bar. He watched her, and became aware that he wasn1t the only one doing so. More than one pair of eyes followed her with interest. Musing on that, he made his way down to the holodeck. There was definitely something different about her now, and it had nothing to do with her clothing or hair. It was something far more intense and personal. He remembered all the times he1d sat with her and talked long into the night, or fenced with her on the holodeck, or even just nodded in passing. Why had he never looked deeper? Why had he never wondered about her dreams, her needs? He1d rather taken her for granted, and suddenly he felt badly about that. He stopped outside the holodeck and noticed that the program was still running. Curious, he thought for a moment about entering, but decided against it. 3Computer, is this program privacy-secured?ý 3Negative.ý 3Activate monitor.ý The small screen next to the programming padd lit up and he watched it with interest. Worf was armed with his Klingon betelH, and his opponent carried what appeared to be a Japanese katana. As he watched they engaged, and he whistled softly. The sort of naked-blade practice they were engaged in could be damned dangerous! He was tempted to stop the program for safety1s sake, but as he watched it was clear that there was consummate skill in the way they handled their weapons. The combatants were extremely well-matched as to height, weight, and, he noticed with amusement, hairstyle. Having fought Klingons himself, he had to admit he was impressed by MacLeod. The balance of power tipped back and forth until finally the man MacLeod caught the betleH between the spikes with his blade and seemingly without effort used his sword as a lever to flip the betleH out of Worf1s grasp and onto the ground several feet away. Even on the tiny screen, Worf1s chagrin and surprise were clear. They stood for a moment, breathing hard, then Worf clapped the other man across the shoulder and said something unintelligible. MacLeod laughed and put down his sword, reaching out to shake the Klingon1s hand. A moment later the holo-background of a Klingon ritual-combat area disappeared and the yellow-on-black programming grid replaced it. The erstwhile combatants headed for the door. 3Deactivate monitor,ý Picard said quietly as the holodeck doors opened. The small screen went black and he stepped back a pace. 3You shall show me how that move is accomplished. It is a trick I would like to try,ý Worf was saying as they stepped from the room. 3I1d be happy to, if in exchange you1ll instruct me on the finer points of the betleH,ý MacLeod returned. 3It1s a formidable weapon.ý 3It is, but I will admit that it is not so fine a one as your own. It has been in my family only four generations.ý Picard saw that MacLeod still carried the katana, which, since it had not disappeared with the program, must belong to him. He glanced quickly at the weapon, taking in the carved ivory hilt and the rippling play of light on the blade which spoke of folded steel. Worf was right, that was no modern replica. Something about it spoke of age and long use. 3Gentlemen.ý Picard announced his presence quietly. Worf came instantly to attention, but MacLeod1s reaction was far more interesting. He dropped into a fighting stance with the easy grace of a fighter, sword up and ready. Seconds later, after his sharp gaze had taken in Picard1s uniform and rank pips, the sword dropped into non-threatening position and he straightened. The change was so swift that for moment Picard thought he might have imagined it, but he knew he had not. The man was trained to fight. Perhaps that was part of Deanna1s unease. Starfleet was not really a military organization, even its best-trained fighters would be hard pressed to display that sort of battle-readiness. 3Captain, is there a problem?ý Worf rumbled, clearly ill at ease at being caught out of uniform, even though he was off-duty. 3No, Mr. Worf, no problem.ý Picard shifted his attention to Worf1s companion. 3I1ve read the reports about what happened while I was away, and thought I ought to introduce myself. I1m Captain Jean-Luc Picard.ý He held out his hand, and MacLeod shifted his sword to his left hand and took Picard1s hand in a firm clasp. 3Duncan MacLeod, sir, late of the Darius. It1s a pleasure to meet you, the Enterprise is quite a ship, you must be very proud of her.ý 3I am, I assure you. I understand you1re a friend of Guinan1s?ý 3I have that honor.ý 3As do I.ý 3Mr. MacLeod.ý Beverly Crusher1s voice sounded firm and faintly annoyed. All three men turned toward the source. She was standing in the corridor, arms crossed, with a distinctly displeased expression on her face. Picard shot a glance at the man, and almost smiled at the look of resignation spreading over it. He knew that look. He1d worn it himself on many occasions. 3You, sir, have been avoiding me.ý The doctor accused, lifting an eyebrow as she waited for a response. 3I... have.ý MacLeod admitted. 3Why?ý He sighed. 3I don1t need a physical, Doctor. I1m fine.ý 3Why don1t you let me be the judge of that?ý 3I can1t.ý 3Why not?ý MacLeod looked trapped for a moment, then a tiny smile lifted one corner of his mouth. Picard waited. This should be good. 3I1m a Christian Scientist.ý Beverly looked puzzled. Picard knew exactly how she felt. 3A what?ý 3Christian Scientist. We don1t believe in medical intervention. It would be against my religious ethos to allow a doctor to examine me.ý Beverly1s eyes narrowed. 3Is that so? Why have I never heard of this sect?ý MacLeod shrugged. 3Beats me. Go ahead, check it out if you like. Ask your computer.ý She stared at him a moment, then called his bluff. 3All right, I will.ý She looked up. 3Computer? Search databanks for religious group known as Christian Scientists, especially as pertains to their beliefs about medical intervention.ý Moments later the computer1s disembodied voice spoke. 3Christian Science, a Terran para-Christian Cult whose adherents believe that all healing comes from Deity. This sect adheres to strict policy of no medical intervention.ý Beverly looked stunned. MacLeod looked smug. Picard had to work very hard not to laugh. He hadn1t seen his chief medical officer so neatly stymied in years. After a moment Bev shook her head, a rueful smile curving her mouth. 3Well, Mr. MacLeod, you1ve manage to weasel your way out of an examination, haven1t you? However, if you could manage to explain to me what you lived on for five days when your replicators were offline and there were no emergency rations aboard, I would certainly like to hear it!ý 3I went hungry,ý he said simply. 3It1s not the first time, nor, I imagine, will it be the last.ý She gazed at him thoughtfully. 3That1s certainly plausible; however, I also discovered that your water stores were contaminated by that coolant leak. You don1t mean to tell me you went without liquid for five days as well, do you?ý 3Not at all.ý He smiled brilliantly. 3I had a case of Laphroig aboard that I was planning to sell. Nothing contaminates a good single-malt.ý 3You...ý she sputtered, then rolled her eyes and made a face. 3You are a damned slippery character, Duncan MacLeod. Just like your father, from what I hear!ý He chuckled. 3That I am.ý Picard stared at his CMO. 3Don1t tell me you know him too?ý Bev turned to him, curious. 3Too? Who else knows him?ý 3He1s an old friend of Guinan1s.ý 3Oh really? Fascinating! Actually, I just met Mr. MacLeod yesterday, but it turns out that his father was a friend of my grandmother1s.ý Picard studied MacLeod again, thinking it a bit odd that this man had connections to two such vastly different women. But then, perhaps it wasn1t so surprising after all. He would admit to being no expert on what women found attractive in a man, but he was willing to wager that this particular specimen would fall into that category for just about every woman aboard the ship. He wondered what Beverly would say if he asked her about him. Would she admit to such interest? He wasn1t the jealous type, but with their own relationship so tenuous, it was a little unsettling to find himself wondering how she regarded the man. Shaking off that feeling, he remembered that Deanna had wanted him to try and learn more about the man. 3Mr. MacLeod, would you care to join me for dinner? Guinan is a long-time friend of mine, and I am always pleased to learn more about her friends. Also, I understand you1re from Valhalla, and I1d like to satisfy my curiosity about the place. I1ve heard a lot of fascinating things about it.ý To his surprise, MacLeod shook his head. 3May I take you up on your offer another time? To be honest, it1s been a long week, and after that work-out,ý he nodded toward the holodeck, 3what I really want is a few hours sleep.ý Picard nodded pleasantly, but wanted to make sure he understood that it wasn1t exactly a request. 3I understand. Perhaps tomorrow night, if that1s convenient? If not, we still have several days before reaching Starbase 108.ý MacLeod gazed at him shrewdly, understanding clear on his face. 3I would be honored to meet with you tomorrow night, sir.ý With that MacLeod nodded briefly to the three Star Fleet officers, and walked away down the hall. Picard caught Beverly watching him, and cleared his throat to get her attention. 3Well, Beverly, I hope you1ll not turn me down too.ý She jumped a little, and turned to him, her cheeks a tiny bit flushed. 3Is that an invitation?ý 3It is.ý 3I1d love to, then. Shall we?ý She linked her arm through his and they headed for Ten-Forward. **** In the Dark, part 11/14 Duncan sat in the dark in his stateroom, nursing two fingers of Scotch and thinking about his life. He was trapped in the web of depression that had afflicted him more and more often of late. It started whenever he thought about how long he1d been around. He1d been born in the sixteenth century, and it was nearly the twenty-fifth now. Soon it would have been a thousand years. What had he done with his life in all that time? What good had he done... and what evil? What mark had he left? Not much of one. He had composed no music, painted no paintings, written no books. His only real contribution had been to help whenever and wherever he could. Normally that was enough, but every once in awhile he wished he could have been more. Deep inside him there was a spark of creation that burned and twisted, but he1d never yet found what it was he was supposed to do. Deanna Troi1s startling resemblance to Thalassa Demetrious had raked open long-scabbed-over wounds. Gods, but it was so hard to continually lose the people you cared about! By loving mortals, he condemned himself to the pain of separation again and again; yet what else could he do? He couldn1t love an Immortal either. It wasn1t allowed, all because of some stupid Game, some mythical Prize! What the hell was it, anyway? After a thousand years, it didn1t matter any more. He didn1t even believe in it any more. That was the worst of it. He1d come to the stunning realization that the Game could be just that, a myth created by some long-dead Immortal who had needed to rationalize his own desire to kill. The legacy of that myth had doomed countless Immortals to fear, and pain, and loneliness. They couldn1t just love each other and live their lives as mortals did. They had to hide, and fight, and kill. Over the years he1d almost managed to convince himself that he didn1t need anyone but himself, but sometimes in the night he knew a fierce longing to have someone to be with, forever; and not have to worry about someday facing them across the edge of a sword. Being surrounded by mortals as he was on this ship, seeing them free to love as they would, made him feel the absence of it all the more deeply. Aboard his own ship he could almost convince himself that he was normal. Here, his abnormality was starkly laid bare, and he couldn1t hide it from himself even if he could from others. He hadn1t had a relationship with a mortal in over thirty years, not since Ginevra had died. He had kept to himself, avoiding contact with anyone other than his Watchers, trying not to let himself care for anyone. Even then, it didn1t work well. He had gotten interested in Valhalla despite his best efforts not to, and had ended up becoming friends with Jeremy Dikembe... he just wasn1t cut out to be a loner. He tossed back the remainder of his Scotch in a swift gulp, and stared at the empty glass. Empty. Like himself. His fingers tightened around the glass and it shattered. He swore, staring at the blood dripping from his fingers. The pain began to fade almost before he1d really felt it, leaving behind only a slight tingle. Idly he picked up a piece of the broken glass and drew it across his palm, opening a wound and watching it heal. He wondered if there was another Immortal in the quadrant, preferably one who didn1t like him. It was awfully hard to kill yourself when you could only die by decapitation. Not an easy task for any would-be suicide. Far easier to let someone else do it for you. The door-chime made its damnably cheerful little chirp and he sighed. It was probably the Doctor, still trying to find a way to coerce him into Sickbay. Even so, it would be better than sitting in the dark thinking about death. 3Come.ý The door opened, and someone stepped into the room. He didn1t bother to see who it was, but remained staring out at the stars. She moved closer, standing behind him. He knew it was a woman, from her scent, from the sound of her clothing. 3What1s wrong, Duncan?ý the voice was gentle, and concerned. 3Hello, Guinan.ý 3I could feel you all the way from Ten-Forward. Do you want to talk?ý 3Not really.ý 3All right.ý There was no recrimination in her voice, but she didn1t leave. Instead, she moved around the couch and started to sit down next to him. 3Wait, careful...ý he picked up several shards of broken glass and moved them to the end-table. 3There. Safe now.ý She sat, and took his hand, looking at the dark stains that crossed it. 3You should see the doctor.ý 3No need. It1s healed.ý She looked more closely. 3So it is. Must be nice.ý 3I used to think so.ý There was a short silence, then she nodded. 3I see.ý Of all people, she just might see. 3How do you do it?ý he asked, obliquely. She understood, as he had expected she would. 3I just take things a day at a time, and I put up walls to keep people from getting too close. But you know, I didn1t realize I was doing that until you came. You kind of... woke me up.ý 3I1m sorry.ý 3No, don1t be. I needed it.ý She looked out at the stars. 3Do you remember the talk we had in your apartment, all those years ago?ý He remembered it. He remembered everything. 3Yes.ý 3I was pretty glib, wasn1t I? It1s so damned hard not to feel guilty. Even if it had nothing to do with you. And for me, it wasn1t just one person, it was my people.ý That got through. He turned and looked at her, only to find her staring out at the stars just as he had been. 3What do you mean?ý 3You1ve heard of the Borg, right?ý 3Who hasn1t?ý 3They destroyed my world, and assimilated my people, all but a handful. I survived because, as usual, I wasn1t home. I1ve always been so interested in other worlds... my family said I was too interested in them. In the end, I lost them because of that.ý 3But if you1d been there, you1d have been assimilated too.ý She sighed. 3I know. Sometimes...ý 3...you wish you had,ý he finished for her. She nodded, and he continued. 3I know the feeling. On Earth, during World War Two; there were times I thought it would be so much easier to be one of the victims rather than one of the survivors. I did what I could, but it seemed like so little at the time.ý 3I heard, and read, and felt... from the survivors. I wasn1t there then, my father said it was too dangerous and wouldn1t let me stay, though I thought maybe I could be of some help, somehow.ý 3Your father?ý he asked, surprised. 3Yeah, you know, male biological parent,ý she said, smiling. 3I<ý he laughed, shaking his head. 3I guess I thought that since you1re like me in other ways, you were like me that way to.ý 3And what way is that?ý 3No family. No parents. None of my kind have family.ý She shook her head. 3Oh, I have< I mean, had, family. A lot of it. Now it1s just me, and Jahn.ý 3Jahn?ý She sighed. 3My son. When he claims me, that is.ý 3You have a son?ý he asked, stunned, but unable to not ask. She nodded. 3I do. Jahn1s... oh, two hundred and three now. He1d be the black sheep of the family if we still had a family. I guess I wasn1t a very good mother. Not when he needed me to be. Now that I know how, it1s too late.ý she sighed and looked off into the distance. 3We ought to be required to have a license to procreate.ý 3But at least you can.ý he said starkly. He felt as if he stood on the edge of a cliff, looking down into a roiling chasm of pain. Her words had opened up a place inside of him that he normally walled off even from himself. Her head snapped around toward him, her eyes narrowed as she studied him. 3Duncan... you...ý 3It1s not important.ý he grated out. 3But it is. I can feel it. I1m sorry; I didn1t know you felt this way or I would have<ý 3You would have what? Hidden it from me?ý he interrupted, angrily, though he was more angry with himself than her. After almost a thousand years he kept thinking he1d dealt with this problem. 3No, I can1t go through life having people hide their families from me just because I can1t have my own.ý 3What about adoption, or fostering?ý He closed his eyes, remembering. Kahane. Viola. Michelle. Douglas. In some ways even the Immortals he had mentored been substitute children for him. 3I tried that. It never worked. I was a hazard to them. I1ve learned that lesson.ý 3That doesn1t make any sense! How can it be dangerous for a child to have a parent who cares about them?ý Duncan sighed. 3It1s because of what we are. Because of the damned Game, having families is a liability. Our enemies know they can attack us through them. The other problem is that since we can1t have children of our own, we1re inevitably drawn to mortal children. Even if they manage to avoid becoming bait for a trap, eventually they come to realize the strangeness of having a parent who unlike them, doesn1t age, and doesn1t die.ý She reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. 3I never thought about how hard that would be, or how dangerous. Why do you still hide what you are, though? In this day and age, with sentients as diversely alien and far-flung as they are, why is it necessary?ý 3Because even now there are those who would use us as research animals, just to find out how we work. We1ve managed to avoid that so far, we haven1t even tried to find out for ourselves because the knowledge is too dangerous. There are a lot of theories, but no real facts. Is it magic, or genetics, or a bit of both? Who knows?ý 3Dangerous? How?ý 3If it could be artificially duplicated, there are those who would do it, and then use their position to enslave those who don1t possess the secret.ý 3There1s nothing that says a naturally-occurring member of your kind wouldn1t do just that,ý Guinan pointed out reasonably. 3Nothing but those of us who won1t let them.ý Duncan said grimly. She gazed at him thoughtfully. 3You realize, don1t you, that if it could be duplicated, perhaps it could also be... fixed.ý He laughed humorlessly. 3Oh, I1ve thought of that. Believe me, I have. And despite these periodic fits of depression, I1ve come to realize that I wouldn1t change what I am. I just want to change how I live. I1m so damned tired of being alone, even when I1m not alone. I1m tired of the guilt, and the shame, even though I know it1s not really my fault that I1m alive and they1re not. It always seems somehow like it must be. I1m tired of hiding. I1m tired of not belonging to the world I was born on.ý She reached out and put her palm against his face. 3I know, Duncan. I know. I live with that too.ý She shook her head. 3I have a people without a home, you have a home without a people. We1re quite a pair, aren1t we?ý He covered her hand with his and turned his head so it was against his lips, holding it there for a moment, feeling the warmth of her palm, the warmth of her presence. Some of the ice inside him started to melt, and he chanced a look at her face. He saw the his own pain reflected in her eyes. Reaching out, he drew her closer, his arms tight around her, hers slid close around him. They sat that way for a long time. After a while she lifted her head. 3If only I1d known then what I know now...ý she began. Duncan shook his head. 3Don1t. There1s no point in that. What1s done is done. We can1t change the past, only the future.ý She sighed. 3I know. But it1s hard not to think that way. Isn1t it strange how things work out? Tell me, something... was Joe Dawson one of you?ý Emotions swept him. The pleasure of remembering a good friend, the pain of thinking about how long he1d been gone. It was always this way, remembering mortals. He shook his head. 3No, though I always wished he had been. He was a good man, a good friend.ý 3You miss him.ý 3A lot.ý 3I wish I1d had a chance to know him better.ý Duncan grinned. 3So did he.ý She smiled, shaking her head. 3You know, it1s probably just as well that I had to leave when I did. When I was there studying Earth cultures we were under strict rules not to< how shall I put it< `fraternize with the natives.1 I don1t know that I could have stuck to that if I1d stayed around, and I don1t know that I could have chosen between the two of you.ý He lifted an eyebrow. 3I thought you didn1t do threesomes.ý 3I was young and naive,ý she said with a wink. He laughed, shaking his head, and she laughed with him. God, it was good to laugh and really feel it. He shifted position, stretching out, and then he drew her against him so they were touching along the length of their bodies; for some reason craving the physical contact. It was no more than that. He had no other expectations of the moment. He just wanted to touch and be touched by another living being. She settled against him comfortably, her head resting on his shoulder, her face turned upward. He followed her gaze and found her looking at the stars again. They were both drawn to that view; the brilliant stars and the dark, empty spaces between. Too much like their lives, he supposed. After a while, Guinan spoke again. 3Duncan, why is it you seem to think you don1t deserve to be happy?ý 3I was cursed by a Gypsy,ý he told her, dead serious. 3She told me I would never find happiness.ý She looked at him, smiling a little. 3Don1t you know that a curse only has power if you believe in it?ý He gazed back at her steadily. 3Could I be what I am and not believe in magic?ý She thought about that for a moment, and finally shook her head ruefully. 3I guess you1ve got a point. Still, don1t you think a few hundred lifetimes is long enough for a curse to run its course? I have some Gypsy friends, would you like me to have them remove the curse for you?ý He chuckled. 3Why didn1t I ever think of that?ý Her gaze was candid, and so was her reply. 3Because you like brooding, Duncan. You1re good at it. Byronic to the core.ý He winced. 3Ouch. That hurt.ý 3It was supposed to. Face it, you like being unhappy.ý 3No I don1t!ý 3Then break the cycle. Do something to make yourself happy!ý He studied her for a long time, then finally found voice to ask the question that kept slinking out from the shadowy corners of his mind. 3All right, I will. Stay with me tonight?ý She contemplated him for several long moments, then a smile spread over her face, a wide, unforced, joyous smile. 3As long as you like,ý she said finally. 3And that will make both of us happy.ý He felt himself begin to relax for the first time since he1d come aboard the ship, no, for the first time in years. She reached up and repositioned his arm where it rested across her shoulder, then took his hand and threaded her fingers through his. 3It1s nice to find someone who really understands,ý she said quietly. He nodded, his lips brushing her hair. 3That it is.ý **** Sunlight. She wished there were sunlight, the warm, focused, butter-yellow light of Terra1s star. Instead there was just the cool, soft glow of the Enterprise1s lightpanels. It just wasn1t the same. Still, waking up was a pleasant thing this morning, surround as she was by the warmth and human comfort of Duncan1s body. He lay behind her, cradling her against him. Guinan glanced down at his hand where it rested on her thigh, noting how light it seemed in contrast to her own chocolate-brown. She smiled, thinking that it probably wasn1t often he was thought of as fair-skinned. She knew he was awake. Quiet, she sensed, but peaceful. So was she. She reached down and put her hand over his, idly tracing his fingers with hers. 3I could get used to this, Duncan.ý He chuckled. 3Good morning to you too.ý He stretched. She felt the muscles move beneath his skin, and closed her eyes, savoring the closeness. 3Thank you for staying,ý he said, his voice shaded with meaning. 3That1s twice in one lifetime.ý 3What is?ý 3That you1ve brought me out of the darkness.ý 3We brought each other.ý 3You never seem so far in the dark as I do.ý 3I hide it better,ý she sighed. 3Any idea what time it is?ý 3None, why?ý 3I usually have breakfast with Deanna, she1ll wonder...ý 3No she won1t,ý Duncan interrupted, amused. 3She1s a Betazoid, remember? She1ll know why.ý Guinan felt her skin warm, and shook her head, laughing at herself. 3I1m blushing. I don1t believe it.ý He smoothed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, sensing the heat there. 3Why?ý 3I<ý she frowned, and finally figured out how to say it. 3Because this isn1t who I am to these people. They won1t understand it.ý 3What1s not to understand? You have the same needs, and wants as any of them! Why would they think you sexless? And what about Picard? I thought I sensed something there.ý 3Oh, that. There was something there, once, but we1re just friends now.ý Duncan shook his head, smiling ruefully. 3Just friends. God, how I hate those words. I can1t even remember how many times I1ve said that, when I didn1t mean it. It1s as easy to lie to yourself with them as it is to others.ý She shook her head. 3He1s more than half in love with Beverly Crusher. I won1t come between them, it wouldn1t be fair. What1s past is past.ý 3But what1s fair to you?ý She turned finally, and looked at him evenly. 3You are.ý He returned her gaze, head tipped slightly to one side as he assessed her words. 3I see.ý She scowled, sensing his withdrawal. 3What do you see?ý 3More than you think I do. I may not be psychic, Guinan, but I1ve a lot of experience with human nature. You think I1m fair for you because I1ll be gone soon.ý She felt a shock of recognition as he spoke. He was right. But did it have to be that way? She chose her words carefully. 3It1s true you1ll be leaving soon, and I won1t be going with you. We both know that. But now that we know about each other, there1s no reason why we can1t... keep in touch, is there?ý He shook his head, looking intrigued. 3No, there1s not.ý 3You1ll know where I am, I1ll know where you are; and I1ll be there if you need me.ý 3What of your needs?ý She smiled. 3It works both ways, right?ý He nodded, slowly. 3If you want it so. Guinan, I...ý A chirp from the door-annunciator interrupted him, and he frowned. 3Just a minute, let me see who that is.ý He rolled out of bed, grabbed his pants and tugged them on as he walked out of the room. She sat up, listening intently. 3Come.ý Duncan1s voice was matter of fact. She heard the hiss of the door opening, then Worf1s earthquake- rumble voice. 3nuHpIn1a1 MacLeod, we have practice, do we not?ý Her eyes widened. Worf had used a seldom-used Klingon appellation to preface Duncan1s name. Loosely translated it meant weapons-master, but had somewhat of the feel of the Earth term Sensei to it. She was more than a bit startled to hear Worf accord such a title to Duncan. 3Worf, forgive me friend, I... have company and I1m afraid I overslept. Give me a few minutes and I1ll join you on the holodeck.ý Guinan grinned, clearly visualizing the look on Worf1s face. He would feign indifference, while simultaneously being curious who Duncan was with, and disdainful of the loose mating practices of humans. She1d seen him wear that expression before, usually around Will Riker. 3I see. I will wait, as you wish.ý 3Thank you.ý She heard the door close again, and Duncan walked back into the bedroom, yawning as he ran his fingers through his hair. Yawn completed, his expression turned rueful. 3I1m sorry, I1d forgotten I was to meet him this morning for our workout.ý He grinned. 3You drove all thought right out of my mind.ý She laughed. 3You silver-tongued devil, you! Are you sure you1re Scottish, not Irish?ý He didn1t miss her meaning, and grinned. 3I1m sure. Stay if you like. I1ll be back in an hour or so.ý Something began to niggle at her, some dark current of perception eddying just out of sight. She put out her hand. 3Duncan, don1t go.ý He paused as he pulled on the padded tunic he wore to spar in, and looked back at her. 3Is something wrong?ý She tried to focus on the vague unease, and couldn1t make it come clearer. Whatever it was, it didn1t seem all that serious. It was nothing like the foreboding she had when real danger threatened. Finally she shook her head. 3No, nothing really. Just a... feeling.ý 3Don1t worry about me. I1m a big boy.ý She grinned. 3I noticed.ý He laughed and took his katana from its place on the shelf. 3Later.ý She nodded and watched him leave, wondering what was bothering her. No doubt she1d find out in due time. She settled back into the warm hollow where he1d been, and let her eyes drift closed again. Moments later she opened them again with a sigh. The unpleasantness that was hovering on the edge of her perception her wasn1t going to let her get back to sleep, she could tell that already, so she might as well get up. She made use of the bathroom, then checked the time, and made a face. It was well past the time of her usual breakfast with Deanna. She slipped into her caftan and sat down at the comunit. 3Personal message, Guinan to Deanna Troi, is she available?ý 3One moment,ý the machine responded. Seconds later the screen filled with Deanna1s face. She was smiling. No, she was grinning, her eyes alight with mischievous humor. 3Good morning, Guinan. Did you have a nice night?ý 3As a matter of fact, I did, but you knew that already.ý 3Not really, though I suspected. I was a little worried when you didn1t meet me, but a quick check on your whereabouts told me I didn1t need to fret. And I1ll have you know that though I was tempted, I refrained from snooping further.ý 3Good girl, I1m proud of you for not succumbing to those Lwaxana impulses.ý Deanna laughed. 3Well, since you missed breakfast, how about lunch? I don1t have any appointments after eleven, and I want to hear all about it!ý Guinan feigned amazement. 3Deanna Troi! I had no idea you were such a voyeur!ý 3Of course you did! All Betazoids are voyeurs, it1s genetic. How about it?ý 3Oh, all right, but only if you promise not to pry.ý 3Who, me? Pry?ý Deanna batted her eyelashes innocently. 3Never.ý 3All right then, I1ll see you in<ý she stopped suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of shock, pain, and darkness closing around her like a suffocating curtain. A presence she1d just begun to get used to vanished soundlessly from her mind, as if someone had flipped a switch. She heard Deanna1s moan, and knew she1d felt it too. 3Duncan!ý she gasped, on her feet and running without even taking the time to close the connection on the comunit. In the corridor she stopped suddenly, confused. Which holodeck had he been going to? He hadn1t said, and he wasn1t wearing a locator so the computer wouldn1t be able to find him easily. Worf was a different matter. She turned to the monitor panel on the wall. 3Computer, locate Lieutenant Worf.ý 3Lieutenant Worf is in sickbay.ý Ice seemed to form inside her, but she shook it off and began to run, her bare feet soundless on the carpeted floor. People looked at her oddly as she passed them, clearly taken aback. She didn1t care. She only hoped that what she had sensed was not what she first thought. Worf1s presence in sickbay seemed to indicate the worst, though. Duncan had confided his fears that someone had deliberately sabotaged his ship. Could that someone be aboard the Enterprise? Could they have gotten to him? Ahead she saw the turbolift doors closing, and called out 3Hold!ý. The door reversed, opening, and she threw herself into the car, startling the three crewmen already there. 3Emergency override, sickbay!ý she panted, knowing that would prioritize her request to the top. The lift doors slid shut and she watched the indicator light dropping as they began to move. 3Are you hurt? Can I help?ý one of the three asked. She turned, and recognizing the man as one she had spoken to many times in Ten-Forward, she shook her head. 3No, Sam, it1s not me, I1m just... needed.ý He looked relieved. Before he said anything else, the doors opened and she dashed out, turned the corner, and flung herself toward the sickbay doors. She stopped short, staring, taking in the frantic activity around one of the biobeds. 3Get those stasis fields working, Alyssa!ý Crusher was saying, to her nurse. 3Damn it, these readings don1t make any sense. Worf, get out of my way! T1mer, we1re we1re going to have to do a replacement, we1ll want to use the Tarvi-2028, it1s the only one we1ve got that will handle someone this size.ý Worf turned and moved away, and Guinan gasped, seeing him covered with blood. So much... and human blood, that brilliant crimson, not the chalky-pink of Klingon blood. His face was a mask of suffering. He stood watching for a moment, then his fists clenched, and he threw back his head and let loose with the blood-curdling howl of a Klingon warning heaven that a newly-killed warrior was about to enter. In the silence that followed Worf1s cry, everyone seemed momentarily stunned into inactivity. She had to know. Determinedly, she strode forward into the gap Worf had left around the biobed. Duncan lay there, still, white, and utterly lax. His tunic had been sliced open down the front, and was as soaked with blood as Worf. His broad chest was holed by a dreadful wound, it was clear that the stroke had pierced his heart. For a moment she wanted to scream, to cry, to demand justice from whatever deity seemed set on ruining any chance at happiness for either of them, then just as suddenly, calm settled around her. What had Duncan said? Decapitation could kill him, as could certain types of energy weapon. Nothing else. No matter what it looked like, he was not dead. Not really. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into Beverly Crusher1s anguished blue gaze. 3Guinan, I1m so sorry. I1m doing everything I can, we1ve got him in stasis so he won1t deteriorate, and we1re going to replace his heart, we have a mechanical on hand that should work, at least until he can be fitted properly with the correct one, or a cloned replacement.ý Guinan took a deep breath, and shook her head. 3No, Beverly. Take the stasis fields off. He1ll be fine.ý Bev1s eyes widened, and Guinan sensed her dismay quite clearly. 3You don1t understand, Guinan. He1s gone, his heart was damaged beyond repair. Replacement is the only thing that will save him now.ý Guinan reached out and took Beverly1s hands in hers. 3I know he1s gone, Beverly. I felt it happen. But trust me, I know what I1m saying, and I1m not crazy. It1s not necessary.ý 3It is if I1m going to save his life!ý 3You don1t need to save his life, Bev. He would not want you to do this.ý The doctor drew back as if Guinan had struck her. 3Not you too! I checked out that Christian Science line he fed me. They support two colony worlds, and neither has any record of a member named Duncan MacLeod.ý Guinan stared at her, puzzled. She vaguely remembered something about a religious group called Christian Scientists from her days as a student on 20th century Earth, but what did they have to do with Duncan? 3Beverly, I have no idea what you1re talking about, but I do know that Duncan would not want any kind of intervention. Have you checked for a Med-alert?ý 3I...ý Beverly suddenly looked less sure of herself. 3No, I haven1t.ý 3Do it.ý The doctor turned back toward Duncan1s still form, and made an adjustment on her tricorder, then scanned him. A moment later she turned to Guinan, her expression stunned. 3You1re right. He has a `do not resuscitate1 order encoded on a biochip implanted in his forearm. I can1t believe this! It1s insane! Damn it, Guinan, I can save him if you1ll let me!ý Guinan shook her head. 3I can1t, Beverly. It will be all right, trust me. Have I ever lied to you? Turn off the stasis units.ý Beverly started toward the biobed, but was brought up short by a hail on the comm. 3Laforge to Crusher.ý With a sigh, she tapped her badge. 3Crusher here, what is it Geordi? I have an emergency situation here!ý 3I1m sorry, doctor, but I1m registering an unusual power drain which seems to be originating in sickbay.ý She looked around, her expression blank. 3Here? But there1s nothing...ý her eyes narrowed, and she lifted her tricorder again. 3It1s the stasis units. They1re running at four times normal power levels! No wonder the readings were so odd! But that doesn1t make sense... it1s like they1re fighting something.ý Guinan put her hand on the doctor1s arm, drawing her attention once more. 3Beverly, they are. Turn them off.ý They stood for a moment, gazes locked, then Beverly nodded, and reached over and switched them off. 3What the...? The power drain just stopped.ý Laforge1s voice sounded puzzled. Beverly looked equally so. Guinan went over to the bed and took Duncan1s hand, feeling only emptiness where normally he was so full of life. It was hard not to weep at that, to have faith that what he1d told her was the truth. But it had to be. Behind her the sickbay doors opened, and she sensed Deanna and Jean-Luc1s familiar presences as they entered the room. She smiled a little ruefully, knowing that Duncan was going to be unhappy about having a reception committee around right now. 3What1s going on here, Mr. Worf? Why did you put out a detention order on yourself?ý 3Captain, I have killed nuHpIn1a1 MacLeod. I must be detained.ý 3What?ý Picard and Troi spoke almost as one, each one equally stunned. Keeping Duncan1s hand in hers, she turned so that she could see the others, and listen to Worf1s explanation, though she knew what had happened. 3We were sparring, and I was careless. In so doing, I cost a warrior1s life. I must be punished.ý A sudden change pulled Guinan1s attention back to Duncan, as beneath her fingers she felt a presence begin to grow. He hadn1t lied to her! Her relief was so fierce that it blocked out everything else. She put her head against their clasped hands and felt his essence suffuse the empty shell of his body. His hand twitched, his fingers closing around hers. He gave a sudden, sharp, painful-sounding gasp, and his eyes opened, their earthy depths unfocused and bewildered. She felt the others center their attention on her, and on Duncan, but it didn1t matter. All that mattered was that he was back. He reached up to touch her face with his fingers, leaving red smudges on her cheek from the blood on his hand. 3Welcome back.ý she said softly, putting her hand over his, not caring about the blood. 3I1m glad to see you.ý 3I<ý he started, then winced. After a moment he managed a weak smile. 3I1m glad to see you too, but God... what happened to me? I feel like I1ve been hit by a truck.ý 3Close. It was a Klingon.ý He looked puzzled for a moment, then realization flooded his face. 3Oh no< tell me I didn1t<ý he looked down at himself, and saw the blood, then lifted his head enough to look past her to the stunned faces of the Enterprise1s captain, chief medical officer, counselor, and chief of security. 3Damn.ý he muttered as he slumped back onto the biobed with a sigh. 3I hate it when this happens.ý She nodded, smiling a little. He started to sit up and Beverly stepped closer, her hand on his shoulder. 3What do you think you1re doing? You shouldn1t even be alive, much less sitting up!ý Duncan let her push him back down on the bed. Guinan moved over to get out of Beverly1s way. Duncan1s face was a mask of resignation. He1d obviously decided that there was no point in fighting it any more. She reached out to clasp his hand again and felt waves of fear flowing from him. He might be consenting to the exam, but he greatly feared its consequences. 3It1s all right, Mr. MacLeod,ý Deanna said, obviously sensing his fear as clearly as Guinan did. 3Dr. Crusher just wants to make certain that you1re all right. She1s not going to hurt you.ý 3Not intentionally,ý he said flatly. Picard spoke quietly, 3I can assure you, Mr. MacLeod that we mean you no harm, but you must admit that this incident raises some rather interesting questions.ý Duncan sighed,ýI know it does. Believe me, I know. Also believe me when I say that while I trust you are all good people, I1d rather not answer those interesting questions. I1ve been burned one too many times,ý he paused, 3literally.ý 3Nevertheless,ý Picard responded, 3we cannot let those questions go unanswered. This, however, is not the time to speak of such things. It can wait until after the doctor has finished.ý He turned to Worf who was now flanked by two rather bewildered security guards who1d answered the detention order, 3Mr. Worf, would you assign an escort to wait for Mr. MacLeod? Oh, and remove that detention order on yourself. Have them show him to the observation lounge when he1s ready.ý Picard turned back to Duncan, 3After Dr. Crusher releases you and you1ve had a chance to clean up, I1d appreciate an opportunity to talk with you about this.ý Duncan sighed, looking remarkably mulish, 3If you insist. It1s your ship.ý Guinan winced a little, anticipating the Captain1s response. She was relieved when he made no comment, glad that he1d grown beyond the need for such things. The last thing she wanted was for two of her closest friends to dislike each other. Giving Duncan1s hand a gentle squeeze, she released it and went to wait by the door for Picard. Knowing him as she did, she knew he1d want to speak with her about Duncan. Beverly looked up, her face flushed with amazement. 3This is incredible! There1s no sign of a wound, no soft-tissue damage at all! No sign that this injury ever occurred, though I do see a rather incredible amount of skeletal scarring. You1ve been pretty hard on your body, Mr. MacLeod.ý Duncan snorted. 3You know what they say... `shit happens.1ý They all stared at him blankly, and after a moment he shrugged. 3Well, they used to say itý he muttered. Guinan chuckled. 3Don1t let Data hear that one.ý 3Please.ý Deanna said, smiling. Picard looked over at the Doctor and caught her eye. 3Dr. Crusher, please report as soon as you release Mr. MacLeod.ý As Beverly nodded distractedly, absorbed in her tricorder readings, he turned to Guinan, clearly still amused by that last exchange. 3Guinan, I1d like to speak to you.ý She nodded, and they left the room together. **** In the Dark, part 12/14 Beverly Crusher stood in the turbolift, mentally rehearsing the report she was to make to the captain. It was distressingly bare of substance, which he wasn1t going to like it at all. She didn1t like it much herself. She wished she1d had more time! The researcher in her was fascinated by Duncan MacLeod. He was just so amazing! He had taken her examination with ill grace, but what she had found just whetted her appetite to learn more. She had finally let him go, with extreme reluctance, knowing that the captain was waiting for her report, and for the man. The lift stopped and the doors opened. She stepped out onto the bridge and nodded at Deanna and Will, then made her way up the ramp to the Ready Room door. She adjusted her lab-coat, flicked her hair out of her face, and touched the chime. A moment later the door slid open, and she stepped inside. Guinan was seated on the couch across from Picard, who was half-sitting on his desk. The scene appeared relaxed, almost informal, but she could sense an underlying tension. Jean-Luc seemed glad to see her. 3Doctor, what have you discovered about our guest? What is he?ý 3He1s... human, mostly, but at the same time, he1s not.ý 3Explain.ý 3I can1t. It would take months of research, years perhaps, to find out why he is the way he is. I can tell you he1s got the most bizarre immune system I1ve ever seen. His cellular regeneration processes are nothing short of phenomenal. Normally there would be a measurable amount of degradation during cellular replacement. We all lose and replace millions of cells daily, and each replacement cell is minutely, though measurably, less perfect than the one before. In Duncan MacLeod, each replacement cell is identical to the previous one. It1s as if at some point in his life he was simply frozen in time. I1ve never seen anything like it.ý 3The fountain of youth.ý Picard said, drawing from the imagery of mythology. Beverly nodded. 3In a matter of speaking. 3 3How old is he?ý 3According to the medical scanners, he1s around thirty or thirty-five, but according to his DNA mutation patterns, he1s approximately that number of generations removed from us.ý 3Thirty generations? That would be... good God! Nine-hundred years?ý He frowned. 3Could he be a time traveller from the future then, like the `future historian1 that Rassmussen impersonated?ý Beverly shook her head emphatically. 3He can1t be from the future, it doesn1t work that way. The mutation rate is constant and measurable, like a kind of clock. If he were from the future, I1d be able to tell that as well. Another thing... he has antibodies to disease agents which haven1t been present for hundreds of years. Things like bubonic plague, smallpox, AIDS, Rigilian Fever... the list is almost endless. It seemed like every test we ran came back positive. To have antibodies against diseases that no longer exist he has to have lived when those diseases were in existence. For example, the last smallpox virus was intentionally destroyed in the early twenty-first century, so he has to be at least that old.ý Picard looked at Guinan questioningly. She shook her head. 3I first met him late in the twentieth century, on Earth, but I don1t feel I can say anything more than that without violating his trust. What he was doing there, how he got there, how he got here... you1ll have to ask him.ý 3You1re not being very helpful.ý Jean-Luc said, clearly exasperated. Guinan sighed unhappily. 3I know, and I1m sorry. But it1s his life, not mine. All I can tell you is that he poses no threat to you, or to this ship.ý Picard sighed. 3I know that you believe that to be the truth, but you must admit, you are prejudiced in this matter.ý Guinan1s posture altered subtly, becoming slightly stiffer, her chin lifting. 3Everyone views the world through their own prejudices, Captain. Mine are not the issue here. He is not a threat to us, however we may well be a threat to him.ý Picard looked puzzled. 3In what way could we be a threat to him?ý 3Ask him.ý Guinan said intensely. As her challenge hung in the air, Worf1s disembodied voice sounded over the com system. 3Captain, Mr. MacLeod is waiting for you in the Observation Lounge.ý 3Acknowledged, Mr. Worf. Ask the senior staff to join us, please.ý 3Aye, Captain.ý Picard gestured for Guinan and Beverly to follow him. 3I shall ask him, Guinan, but will he answer?ý She shrugged. 3Time will tell.ý **** Duncan slouched in his seat, feeling surly and ill-used. He shot periodic glances toward the two security officers who stood at the doorway. `Escort1 indeed. He knew a guard detail when he saw one. The conference room was juat a genteel prison. He felt as if he were awaiting sentencing. Waiting for the words that would end his life as he knew it, end his freedom. Perhaps not just his, but that of all those like him. He had no one in particular to blame, it had been inevitable, but he was in no mood to be reasonable about it. He sighed, and turned deliberately away from the room, looking out through the observation windows, glad that he at least had the stars. He heard the doors open. It sounded as if several people had entered the room, not just Picard. He didn1t give them the satisfaction of turning around. After a moment, he heard a gentle cough. 3Duncan?ý Guinan1s voice. He sighed. He couldn1t be rude to her, even if he wanted to be rude to the rest of them. He turned around. 3Hello sweetheart, I see the inquisition has arrived.ý Data, the android lieutenant commander Duncan had heard about but not yet met, cocked his head slightly to one side. 3Sweetheart is usually used as an expression of affection. It does not appear to belong in the same sentence as `the inquisition1.ý 3I was talking about two different things. I have a great deal of affection for Guinan, however, I can1t say the for the rest of this nonsense.ý 3I appreciate your frustration, Mr. MacLeod, however I am sure you understand the necessity of the situation,ý Picard said quietly. 3I suppose I do, but I1ll be damned if I have to like it!ý 3Liking it is not a requirement. The truth is.ý 3You won1t like the truth.ý 3The truth is often unpleasant, however it is what we deal in.ý 3`Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,1 Captain. Have you never lied to protect yourself? To protect your friends? Do you tell everyone you meet everything about yourself? Have you no secrets, nothing you would rather be known only to your closest friends? I beg leave to doubt it.ý Picard leaned forward, his expression thoughtful as he steepled his fingers. 3I can1t say that I1ve never done any of those things as I have done all of them. However, you may rely on our discretion. Unless something about you proves to be a threat to us, or to the Federation, it need go no further than this room.ý Duncan looked around the room, from face to face, each person in turn. He lifted an eyebrow. 3You1re telling me that seven people can be counted on to never reveal my secrets to anyone else?ý He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. 3Tell me another one.ý Picard stiffened visibly. 3Mr. MacLeod, I would, and have, trusted these people with my life. They have never let me down. I will thank you not to insult their integrity.ý Duncan looked into Picard1s eyes, and found honesty as well as anger in his steady gaze. He shook his head. 3I have no doubt about their integrity, I just know human nature. You don1t get to be...ý he paused, considering. He might as well tell them, it was all going to come out anyway. 3You don1t get to be nearly a thousand years old without becoming something of an expert on the subject.ý Picard didn1t respond for a moment, but LaForge did. 3Are you telling us that you were born in the fourteenth century?ý His voice held clear disbelief. Duncan smiled. 3No, actually in the sixteenth. I have a couple of hundred years to go before I hit the big one-zero-zero-zero.ý Geordie started to laugh, then he looked at Guinan. His smile faded and he looked to Picard, then his gaze swept the others. 3You1re serious!ý Duncan nodded. 3All too.ý Beverly1s face took on an expression of awestruck amazement. 3Eight hundred years? After the tests I ran I can see that it1s possible, for you, but I don1t understand it! It must be some sort of mutation. Tell me, were your parents unusually long-lived?ý 3We have no parents. We are always foundlings.ý The look of shock on Beverly Crusher1s face was priceless. 3We?ý she squeaked, clearly stunned. 3There are more of you?ý 3Quite a few. That1s part of why I didn1t want to tell you. I expose not only myself, but all those like me. I put them at the same risk that I take on.ý 3What risk?ý Worf asked. 3I see no risk in the truth.ý Duncan looked at the Klingon, but before he could speak, Picard did so. 3I think I understand. You said it earlier. You1ve been burned too many times. Witch hunts, persecutions, pogroms.ý Duncan nodded. 3Not to mention experimentation. Doctor Crusher isn1t the first to want to find out what makes us tick. Few have been as gentle. The Eugenics Wars were the worst time for us, fortunately in the chaos that followed we were able to locate and destroy Singh1s records. He had six of us, none survived the experiments.ý He paused a moment, trying not to remember the nature of those experiments, and their results. He1d lost good friends there. 3Duncan?ý Guinan said his name softly, drawing him back to the present. Her gaze was warm and concerned. He sighed. 3Sorry. Sometimes the remembering is too much. I get so tired of losing friends.ý He looked at Picard, 3Can you see my dilemma?ý Picard nodded. 3I understand it better now, but knowing there are more of you compounds my own dilemma. You may not be a threat, but others like you could be. Unless you can prove otherwise, I feel I must report this to Star Fleet Command.ý Duncan realized he was going to have to play his ace. 3I can1t prove otherwise, I1d be a liar if I were to try. But there1s no need to inform Star Fleet, Captain. They know. If you want confirmation, contact Admiral Tamar Dawson. I1d appreciate it if you would do so on a secure channel, of course, but she1ll confirm what I1ve told you.ý 3Admiral Dawson?ý Picard said, clearly surprised. 3Admiral Dawson?ý Guinan echoed, with a slightly different emphasis. Duncan looked at her and nodded, grinning. 3Joe finally found a woman who1d put up with him. Delphia reminded me a bit of you.ý He paused a moment, and winked. 3Though nowhere near as intriguing, of course.ý She chuckled. 3Good save. I want details,ý she looked around, as if just realizing they weren1t alone. 3Later.ý He nodded, smiling a little at her obvious discomfort. 3Later.ý Picard cleared his throat. 3I know Admiral Dawson, and I will contact her. I do find it odd, though, that you fought so hard against telling us, if Star Fleet already knows.ý Duncan gnawed at the inside of his cheek and tried to think of a way to get out of this one. He had hoped Picard wouldn1t be quite so shrewd. He should have known better. 3I didn1t say all of Star Fleet knew. Our presence is known only to a select few.ý 3Who does the selecting?ý Riker asked pointedly. He sighed. He was going to have to go one step further. At times like this he wished he had Methos handy. The older Immortal always seemed to take a perverse pleasure in dealing with this sort of thing. `Spin control1 as he1d once put it. He hoped Tamar would forgive him for this. 3There1s an organization who keeps track of us. They1re called Watchers. Members of Admiral Dawson1s family have been Watchers for centuries.ý 3Watchers? This gets more and more convoluted. Now not only are there... what do you call yourselves?ý Riker asked. 3Immortals, though it1s somewhat of a misnomer. We can be killed. And no, I1m not going to tell you how.ý He grinned. 3I may be crazy, but I1m not stupid.ý That drew a chuckle from his inquisitors before Riker continued. 3So we have Immortals and Watchers. Pretty damned convenient if you ask me.ý 3Not if you1re an Immortal. It can be a damned nuisance. Actually, it1s not always a picnic for the Watchers, either. My co-pilot was my Watcher, and it didn1t turn out to be a great job for him.ý Riker1s eyes narrowed. 3Did you kill him?ý For a moment Duncan was too stunned to speak. When he finally did, it was with outrage. 3No, I didn1t kill him, damn it! Jeremy Dikembe was my friend! I don1t kill innocents!ý 3So who do you kill?ý Picard asked quietly. 3You1re a trained swordsman, a fighter good enough to disarm a Klingon warrior. I get the impression you don1t fight for fun.ý 3I fight only when necessary. I fight to save my life, or someone else1s,ý he looked at Guinan. She nodded acknowledgement. 3You fight with a sword?ý Data asked. At Duncan1s nod, he continued. 3That seems rather anachronistic.ý Duncan laughed drily. 3You don1t know the half of it. Suffice it to say our battles are rather... traditional.ý 3Ah, ritual combat!ý Worf said approvingly. 3Exactly,ý Duncan agreed. 3We have some pretty strict rules.ý 3Would sabotaging a ship fall within those rules?ý LaForge asked suddenly. Duncan turned sharply to look at the engineer, noticing that everyone else had done the same thing. 3Sabotage?ý Duncan asked. 3What are you talking about?ý 3I1m talking about the Darius. I just confirmed my suspicions today. Your crash was no accident caused by an aging ship. Someone deliberately rigged those systems to cut out. You1re lucky you weren1t killed outright.ý He stopped, and looked a bit sheepish. 3I mean, well, you know what I meant.ý Duncan stared at him. 3Deliberate? Someone deliberately caused those malfunctions?ý Cold fury suffused him. 3That1s murder! Someone murdered Jeremy, damn it! Why? What would be the point? Piracy seems unlikely, as what I carried would be of no value to anyone outside of Valhalla. There1s no reason for anyone to do such a thing!ý 3What about you? Could someone have wanted to harm you?ý Deanna asked. 3It makes no sense. The only people who might want to harm me also know that I would survive a crash, no matter what.ý Guinan leaned forward intently. 3Maybe that1s it. If someone knew you1d survive the crash no matter what, they might have planned it that way, to isolate you. I know from experience that some of your kind are more expedient than honorable.ý She had a point. It could well have been another Immortal, looking to take easy prey. The deliberate disabling of the replicator pointed to that, since days without food or water would leave him weakened and less able to fight. But who could it be? He1d been out of circulation for a long time, he didn1t think anyone knew where he was, not even his friends. 3It could have been,ý he said finally. 3I won1t say I have no enemies, and you1re right about expediency. Some of us don1t follow the rules. Unfortunately, if they know I was aboard the Darius, they also know my destination. Whoever it is may be waiting for me on Valhalla.ý Picard looked at Data. 3Commander, how far off-schedule would a detour to Valhalla put us?ý 3It will take an additional sixteen hours and twenty eight minutes, sir. I could give you the seconds if you...ý 3No, thank you Data.ý Picard said hastily. 3We don1t have to be at Ursa Prime for a week,ý Riker put in. 3In light of the sabotage to the Darius resulting in the death of your first officer, a Federation citizen, I believe it might not be a bad idea to give you a `lift1 to Valhalla, since it will not compromise our schedule. Besides,ý he smiled. 3They have riding stables on Valhalla, do they not?ý Duncan looked at him, puzzled not only by his question, but by this unlooked-for aid. He1d expected them to revile him, not offer to help! 3They do, why?ý A ripple of laughter circled the room. Deanna Troi grinned and took pity on his obvious confusion. 3The captain has a saddle he1d like to get out of storage.ý Picard grinned. 3Perhaps this time I1ll actually get to use it for riding.ý The captain was obviously a horseman. That explained part of it, but not all of it. Before he could ask, Picard spoke again. 3I think we1re finished here for now. Everyone back to stations. Mr. MacLeod, perhaps you would like to work with Mr. Worf to see if you can untangle the mystery of who might have sabotaged your vessel?ý 3I would, thank you sir.ý Picard nodded and the group began to disperse. As he stood, Duncan leaned toward Guinan. 3I don1t understand,ý he said softly, so only she could hear. 3Why are they helping me? I thought I was in for the inquisition, not...ý he spread his hands, unable to come up with an appropriate description, 3...this.ý She smiled. 3They1re good people, Duncan; fair people. They1ve been through things you can1t even imagine, and to be honest, compared to a lot of what they1ve experienced, you barely even raise a flicker on the odd- meter. They will judge you on your actions, no more, no less. If you1re honest with them and treat them with respect, they1ll do the same for you.ý He snorted. 3Honest and respectful? What am I, a boy scout?ý She laughed. 3I1ve heard almost those exact words from Jean-Luc on more than one occasion. You two are a lot alike. It wouldn1t hurt either of you to loosen up now and then.ý 3What? In public?ý Duncan asked in mock-dismay, then spoiled it by smiling. 3I still can1t believe this.ý 3Mr. MacLeod?ý Picard said, drawing his attention. Duncan looked up to find the Captain watching him intently. 3Yes?ý 3I will expect a few more answers over dinner.ý Duncan nodded somberly. 3You1ll have whatever I can give.ý Picard nodded back. 3Good.ý **** 3Now, that is what I call dinner.ý Duncan drank the last of his wine and sighed, 3I can almost imagine being back in Paris, just around the same time I met you, Guinan.ý He smiled at his host, 3A few months before she and I met, I1d been living on a barge across from Notre Dame. A friend of mine ran a little restaurant not far from there and he would have killed for this recipe, Captain. Thank you, for helping bring back a few good memories.ý 3I1m glad you enjoyed it.ý Picard picked up the wine bottle and refilled Duncan1s glass at his guest1s nod. 3Guinan?ý 3No, thank you, I think I1ve had enough for one night.ý Both men smiled and Picard continued, 3It is one of many recipes that have been in my family for generations and it1s always something of an adventure to see what the replicators will do to them.ý Guinan put down her fork and leaned back in her chair, satisfied, 3This time, it seems the recipe came away unscathed. I applaud your ancestors, not only for creating it in the first place, but for having the good sense to hang onto it.ý 3It1s a pleasure to have someone else who appreciates real food to try them on. I fear that most people1s palates have been ruined by years of eating synthetics.ý Picard pushed his chair back and gestured toward the living area, 3Shall we?ý Picard stepped aside to let Guinan and Duncan precede him into the living room portion of his quarters. He rarely entertained strangers in his sanctuary but MacLeod was different. Guinan1s red and gold finery was testament to just how different. In all the years he1d known her he1d never seen her so seemingly carefree and happy. It1s as if encountering MacLeod again stripped away the centuries and she1d begun to resemble the young woman he1d met in 19th century San Francisco. Picard hung back a moment, ostensibly to clear the dinner table, but it also gave the two of them an opportunity to speak privately. Dinner conversation had centered on Duncan. He1d touched on many of the high points of his more than eight hundred years, speaking of the personal side of historic events and where he was when momentous things happened. Picard still had difficulty accepting that the man admiring his small art collection had seen live broadcasts of Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. He wished he had years to talk with this man, but he really had only this evening and couldn1t afford to indulge his historic curiosity much more. There were other topics to be covered. The relaxed atmosphere could not be allowed to interfere with the purpose of the gathering. Picard had questions that only MacLeod could answer. 3Captain?ý MacLeod gestured to the shelves before him. 3This is a most impressive collection.ý Reaching out to lightly touch the shelf near one piece, Duncan continued, 3Ixmaili, isn1t it? Third cycle?ý 3Fourth, actually. You are interested in archeology?ý Picard joined his guests at the shelves. 3You might say I have a vested interest in antiquities.ý Guinan rolled her eyes at his comment and shaking her head, moved over to sit on the sofa. Duncan smiled at her reaction. 3I used to deal in art and antiques. I1ve found that it1s an interest that has stayed with me.ý His eyes fell on a small bronze statue of a nude human male. 3This is Taylor1s OProspero1 isn1t it? I remember attending one of her shows.ý 3You knew Rena Taylor?ý Picard began to wonder if the human woman had been born whom MacLeod didn1t know. 3No, unfortunately, we never met, but it wasn1t from lack of trying on my part.ý Picard smiled at Duncan1s expression, 3I... discovered her work a few years ago. The original of this statue is in the North American Museum on Earth.ý Gesturing to include many of the pieces in his quarters he continued, 3Replicators many not always do justice to fine food, but they do have their uses.ý 3How true, and buying stock in MMS Enterprises is one of the smartest things I ever did.ý MacLeod drifted over to where Guinan was sitting. Picard nodded, his face taking on a more serious expression, 3I can see where virtual immortality would have its advantages.ý He paused to sip his wine, 3Wealth, property... power, all would be fairly easy to acquire for someone who could make plans in terms of centuries instead of decades.ý Picard sat down opposite MacLeod and Guinan. 3It must provide quite a temptation.ý MacLeod1s eyes flashed for a moment and Picard realized he1d hit a nerve. 3Not to me, it isn1t,ý he said flatly. 3Come, Mr. MacLeod,ý Picard said, leaning back in his chair, 3do you expect me to believe that you1ve never sought to acquire wealth and power? What of your investment in MMS Enterprises? Surely you didn1t invest in replicator technology expecting to lose money?ý Guinan settled into her seat reminding Picard of someone watching a play, or a fencing match. 3Of course not, that would be ridiculous, but not to the extent you imply! Captain, think of what you1re suggesting.ý MacLeod rose and began to pace. 3Wealth of the type you1re implying attracts attention and that1s the one thing that we can1t afford. There was a time when all one of us had to do was move on to another village, another continent and start over.ý MacLeod stood looking out at the passing stars, seeming to speak only to them. 3Technology began making that harder and harder. You have to plan decades in advance. You need three or four identities to fall back on and all the time watching your... your back.ý MacLeod turned back to face Picard, his eyes dark and brooding, 3As for power, it comes in many guises. You can1t understand the kind of power we deal in.ý He looked into the dregs of his wine and continued more to himself than to the others in the room, 3I1m not even sure I understand it.ý Picard used all of his training to retain his outward calm. He didn1t need to be an empath to see that his guest was deeply troubled. In his fascination with the man as living history he1d nearly forgotten the human element, and he was beginning to believe that no matter what else MacLeod was, he was very human. Still, he mustn1t let the man1s obvious pain distract him. He needed answers and he needed them now. 3Have you spoken with Admiral Dawson yet?ý MacLeod asked as he sat back down next to Guinan, seeming to drawn some measure of strength from her. 3I spoke with her, and she confirmed that you are no threat to my ship or the Federation. That is, however, all she said.ý Picard let a little of his irritation at that non-productive conversation show. Mysteries between the pages of a book were all well and good, but he despised them on his ship. 3Captain, you have the assurances of Guinan, whom you trust and of a Starfleet admiral. What more can I add? Isn1t that enough?ý MacLeod seemed to have lost much of his earlier animation, his dark eyes seemed to look out from a much darker place, but his words sparked the fury Picard had not felt able to show to the Admiral when she, too had thwarted his quest for knowledge. 3No, sir! It is not good enough!ý All but slamming his glass down on the side table, Picard radiated the anger and indignation that his youthful temper had evolved into. 3What can you add? How about when did your people first appear? How many are you? What of those who don1t have the trust of Starfleet admirals? What of those of you who don1t have any compunction against plotting for power? I need answers!ý 3All right!ý MacLeod was on his feet again, anger in every line of his body, 3Some of us are power-hungry and vicious! But you know what? We1re no worse than you mortals! Maybe we1re better! Has that occurred to you? Caligula, Hitler, Khan Singh, they were mortals! At least most of us limit our depravities to ourselves!ý Picard could almost see the tension run out of the man as he spent his anger and again, that all-encompassing sadness began to creep back in. Macleod sighed and continued quietly as he resumed his seat, 3Captain, for the main, we are not builders or makers. That is your gift. You are the empire builders, the artists, the thinkers. We create nothing.ý He closed his eyes for a moment, 3Some of us are evil, but they merely serve to concentrate it in themselves. Can you tell me there are no evil humans?ý Silence settled between them for a moment as Picard considered Macleod1s words. He1d often thought that if only he could live long enough that he could finally find that spark of talent that would let him paint masterworks, or finally get the time to write all the poetry he felt he had in him. What an incredible irony that those who had the time didn1t have the ability, or at least didn1t think they did. Light laughter roused Picard from his reverie. Both he and Macleod turned to Guinan. 3Well? Would you care to let us in on the joke, Guinan?ý Picard found himself somewhat relieved that the mood had been broken. 3I was just thinking how much alike you two are. I do seem to always gravitate to type.ý Picard just managed to keep his jaw from dropping, but he felt warmth creep into his face and fervently hoped he wasn1t blushing. Guinan1s absurd comment had what he supposed was the desired effect on Macleod as well since his brooding expression had been replaced by a small, but genuine smile. 3Gentlemen, shall we cut to the chase?ý Apparently, Guinan intended to make the most of the current change in atmosphere. 3I suspect, Jean-Luc, that no immortal can answer many of your questions. Even they don1t know their origins, or numbers.ý At Macleod1s nod she continued, 3If someone does decide to investigate those matters, and it1s during your lifetime, I doubt that anyone would object to you being informed of them. After all, you already know of Immortals and the Watchers and you are also a trustworthy person.ý Picard watched Macleod1s face carefully and the change there did more to convince him than anything that had been said throughout the evening. Macleod really couldn1t answer and looked interested in being able to someday provide the information. 3Captain, I can give you a promise.ý Macleod leaned forward earnestly. 3If I ever have reason to believe that one of us poses a threat to any Federation ship, colony or personnel, I1ll notify someone immediately. Either a local Federation official, Admiral Dawson or you. I have no desire to see innocents hurt.ý Picard nodded, more to himself than to MacLeod, 3All right. I will accept that, if I must... and it seems that I must. I1m still not entirely satisfied with this matter, but I can see that I need to take it up again with Admiral Dawson.ý MacLeod rose, and offered his hand to Guinan. 3It1s late, Captain, and perhaps we should end this evening before we find ourselves at each other1s throats again.ý His quiet smile echoed some of Picard1s feelings as well. He had no desire to alienate the man before him. Indeed, he wished he had more time to spend with him, to talk with him about all the things that they had in common. Here was a man he could easily call friend, and he hated what he1d felt compelled to do this evening. 3You1re quite right, Mr. Macleod, it is late. Perhaps we can get together again before we leave.ý Picard1s smile widened as MacLeod1s eyes narrowed obviously not relishing another grilling, 3Just to talk, Mr. MacLeod, just to talk.ý After a few more comments about getting together again and exchanging goodnights, Macleod and Guinan left. Picard picked up his wine glass and poured the last of the bottle into it. Sitting alone in his quarters he let his mind roam over the evening and finished his wine. With a sigh, he rose and collected his guests glasses. After finishing at the processor, he headed for his bedroom. The statue of Prospero that had caught the Immortal1s eye sat as always on its shelf and he wondered idly what would have happened had MacLeod ever managed to meet Rena Taylor. He rather suspected his Prospero might have a matching Prince of Denmark. The thought brought a smile to his face and with that he continued his way to bed, touching the light panel on his way out, plunging the room into starlight. **** In the Dark, part 13/14 3Can I walk you back to your quarters?ý Duncan asked as they left Picard1s stateroom. Guinan looked at him thoughtfully, then shook her head. 3No, I have a better idea. Come with me.ý 3I1m not really up for a crowd,ý he told her honestly, thinking she planned to take him to Ten-Forward to the party she had mentioned earlier. 3Good, neither am I. Come on, I think you1ll like it.ý Intrigued, he followed her as she led him to the turbolift and down two decks. 3Where are we going?ý he asked, finally. 3You1ll see,ý she said cryptically. He let her keep her secret, and she led him to what he recognized as a holodeck, and stopped outside. 3Don1t look,ý she said as she began to key in her request on the access padd. He stared obligingly at the ceiling until she was finished. 3Okay, now close your eyes.ý 3Is that different from not looking?ý he asked, amused, complying. 3Quite,ý her voice sounded amused too. He felt her fingers lace through his. 3Come on.ý The holodeck door slid open noisily, and as she led him inside he used other senses to gather information about what she was up to. He heard the low murmur of voices, and the clink of glassware. He smelled alcohol and... cigarettes? It took him a moment to identify it, since it had been so many years since he1d smelled that scent. No one smoked anymore. Some of these holo programs were amazingly detailed. She steered him through the room in a chaotic pattern, and finally put her hands on his hips and guided him down. 3Sit here, and watch your knees, there1s a table.ý He sat. The chair felt like a wooden one, no cushion, dowel-backed. He reached out and felt the irregular surface of a wooden table under his fingers. 3Guinan... what?ý 3Shhh, just wait. I1ll be right backý He waited, resisting the temptation to open his eyes. A moment later she returned and closed his fingers around a glass. He lifted it and sniffed, smelling the familiar smoky tang of a good single-malt. He grinned. 3You know me.ý 3What else would you drink?ý He laughed and took a sip. It was good, very good... and very recognizable. 3This is my Laphroaig, isn1t it?ý 3Guilty, I got it from your cabin.ý 3Thief,ý he said, good-naturedly. 3It helps the atmosphere, though.ý 3What atmosphere? Can I look?ý 3In a minute.ý A noise louder than the others began, the blurred tones of an amplified guitar. Someone was tuning up. He waited, and the first notes of a blues riff sounded, clear and dazzlingly familiar. 3Guinan... that1s...ý The singer started, a man1s voice, husky and soulful. He couldn1t stand it any more. He opened his eyes, and confirmed his suspicion. 3Joe!ý Her hands closed on his shoulders, massaging lightly. 3This is where I come when I want to get away.ý 3You programmed this?ý 3Years ago. I love this place.ý 3Am I here?ý 3Of course you are. It wouldn1t be Joe1s without you.ý He was disconcerted, and flattered. 3This is weird.ý She laughed. 3What1s the matter? Don1t you like being a fantasy?ý 3Umm.... you know, that really sounds like Joe.ý She smiled, letting him know she1d noticed his change of subject. 3That1s because it is. I had some tapes of his I brought back with me. Danny gave Oem to me, back before I even met you guys. I didn1t realize who it was until later. I1ve transferred these songs to every media you can possibly imagine. It1s one of the few things I1ve kept.ý He gazed at her, troubled. 3You know, that1s been bothering me ever since I came aboard. Why don1t you have more things? I1m a certifiable packrat... Picard1s the same, and he1s only a few decades old. Most immortals are like me, tons of stuff, stored in various places. But not you, you have nothing. It1s as if your past doesn1t exist.ý She stared over his head toward the figure playing alone on the stage, a single spotlight picking out the silver streaks in his hair, highlighting the smooth curve of bicep and forearm where they moved over the guitar. 3Maybe thats what I wanted.ý He waited for her to elaborate, but when she spoke it was on a different topic. 3You said he married? What was she like?ý He grinned. 3Delphia? Like I said, she was like you. A lot like you. I never mentioned it to her, I figured that was Joe1s business. They were an interesting couple. Very passionate, about everything. Half the time they fought like cats and dogs, the rest of the time you couldn1t separate them with a stick. They had three kids. Tamar Dawson is his great-great- great-great granddaughter. Strong character runs in the family. She1s the third Star Fleet officer in the bunch.ý 3I1d believe that. Joe wasn1t exactly a slouch in that department himself. I1m glad things worked out, I always hoped he was happy. I always felt guilty about the way I left.ý 3Why did you leave that way?ý She sat down next to him, picked up his glass and downed the remaining liquor before she turned to face him fully. 3I was afraid.ý 3Of us?ý Duncan was taken aback. She laughed. 3Maybe a little... of what I might do if I didn1t get out of there. But mostly I was afraid they1d find out what I was. You have no idea what Earth goverments of the time were doing to people like me.ý He laughed humorlessly. 3Oh yes I do, believe me. I was damned lucky that Mulder didn1t turn me in. I still don1t quite know why he didn1t. He knew what I was. I even think he believed what I am.ý 3What about her?ý 3Her?ý he asked, puzzled. 3The woman... Scully. She was interested in you.ý He snorted. 3Oh, right. Like I was going to start seeing an FBI agent? Besides... I1d sworn off doctors. At that point in my life I wouldn1t have touched her with a ten-foot pole.ý Guinan smiled oddly. 3It1s funny, as I was leaving that night, I remember thinking that you1d be better off with her, because her lifespan was more like your own.ý He laughed, shaking his head. 3`Lord what fools...ý 3...we immortals be?1ý she finished with a chuckle. 3Willie would be rolling in his grave.ý 3No, he wouldn1t. He1d love it.ý Her eyebrows went up. 3Shakespeare?ý He grinned. 3I1m not telling. Hush now, let1s listen. I haven1t heard really good blues in a long time.ý They sat quietly until `Joe1 finished his set and went back to the bar. Duncan watched him, his thoughts fixed in the past. After a moment, he looked up at Guinan again. 3Thanks for this, it1s a wonderful gift. I wish I had something for you.ý 3You1ve already given me a gift, Duncan. That1s why I wanted to do this.ý She was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. 3I1ll miss you when you go.ý He studied her, hearing what was unsaid as well as what was said. 3You have to stay here, don1t you?ý She nodded. 3I do. For now, anyway. And you have to go, don1t you?ý He nodded. 3You know I do. But I1ll make sure you can find me. If I can, I1ll stay on Valhalla awhile. I like it there. I1d like to show it to you.ý 3Then do. I1d like to see it through your eyes, and we should have time.ý 3I would, but what about our saboteur?ý 3What about him?ý 3If he shows up, you could be in danger.ý 3Life1s dangerous, Duncan. I can1t spend mine afraid to do anything. I want to do this. Let me. I want to see where you live, I want to meet your friends, I want to see your world.ý He considered it a minute, then nodded. 3All right then, tomorrow I1ll show you around my home. Better bring a cloak, it1s chilly this time of year.ý 3We can find ways to keep warm,ý she said suggestively. He grinned. 3We might just, at that.ý **** They stood on the hillside overlooking Glenfinnan, it was perhaps a mile down the hill to the village. It was chill and windy, and Duncan noticed Guinan drawing her heavy cloak tighter around herself. His own cloak was open, furling in the wind, his hair blowing wild around his face. She shivered 3How do you stand it?ý 3Stand what?ý 3The wind under your kilt.ý He grinned. 3I1m a Celt. We1re hot-blooded.ý She laughed, and turned, surveying the landscape. He loved this world. It suited him. He fit here, like a part of the landscape. Duncan looked down at the cluster of buildings below, and smiled. 3They1ve done a good job. If I didn1t know better, I1d think I was back home, in the Highlands, five or six hundred years ago. It looks just as I remember it.ý 3It1s beautiful.ý She didn1t lie. Valhalla was beautiful, in a worn, weathered, harsh kind of way. 3Isn1t it hard for you to be here?ý He turned to her curiously. 3Why should it be?ý 3I thought it might remind you too much of your past, of things perhaps better left unremembered.ý He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, his eyes once more focused on the distant cluster of dwellings. After a moment he shook his head. 3It1s a rare day that goes by without something reminding me of an event that, as you say, is perhaps better left unremembered. It1s a hazard of living this long, I think. There are times when the regrets seem to outweigh the satisfactions, but I1m learning how not to resist the memories when they come. It1s better just to let them happen, let them flow through me, instead of resisting and letting them knock me down.ý In the distance, a bell began to toll, the sound shivering through the air with almost crystal clarity. His smile widened. 3Watch the door of the school. This is always fun.ý She followed his gaze and waited. The door of the building in question opened, and small figures began to pour out. The sound of distant shrieks and laughter was carried on the breeze. The children ran and tumbled like water in a brook. After a moment taller figures begin to emerge from other buildings to herd children away from the school. Parents, retrieving their children at the end of the day. He felt the usual stab of jealousy at the sight. Perhaps it was masochistic to stand here and watch them, but he felt somehow compelled to do so. 3If it1s fun, why does it hurt?ý Guinan asked quietly. He focused on her, surprised for a moment, before he remembered what she was. He shook his head. 3Sometimes I forget you1re empathic. Sorry.ý 3Why should you be sorry for having feelings, Duncan?ý He smiled ruefully. 3Because envy is such an evil emotion to have. I shouldn1t inflict it on others.ý 3Envy? That1s not what I felt.ý 3But it is. I envy them. I know I1m not meant to have children, I know it here,ý he tapped his forehead, 3but somehow that makes me want them all the more. I1m like a mule, chasing after the proverbial carrot on a string,ý he laughed dryly. 3In fact, mule is all too apt a simile, in more ways than one.ý She looked like she was controlling the urge to smile as she replied. 3Why? Because you1re being an ass?ý She chuckled at his startled expression. 3Excuse me?ý he said warily. She sobered. 3It seems to me that this is tearing you apart, and it1s needless. Duncan, if you want kids, do something about it! You told me yourself that most of the other Immortals think you1re dead, you haven1t had a confrontation with one in years. What would be the harm in trying again?ý He shook his head. 3Even if I could trust that they would be safe, there1s still the fact that I1m not normal. I1ve seen it happen to others, I1ve seen it happen to me. Kids need normalcy. I don1t age, I would stay the same as they grew old. How could they handle that?ý Guinan looked at him for a long, silent moment, then she smiled oddly. 3Well you know, Duncan, you1ll never know unless you try.ý Her words made him remember. Anne, Paris, four hundred years in the past, but he remembered it as if it had happened today. They were standing in a hospital corridor. He had won his fight with Daimler, Anne had seen it all, right down to his collapse after the Quickening had ended. He1d taken her to the hospital to make sure her fall had not harmed her or the child she carried. The child she had said she wanted him to be a father to. He1d allowed himself to dream again, then she1d killed the dream. In his mind1s eye he heard himself as they left the hospital. 3For a moment I thought we were going to lose her. He did tell you it was a girl?ý His voice had reflected the excitement he felt. He had envisioned himself caring for the baby, then the child... the young woman. The fantasy had delighted him. Anne1s response had been surprisingly terse, considering the good news. 3Yes, he did. Duncan, I want to go home.ý 3The car is right outside.ý 3No, I want to go home.ý Ah. He understood. She wanted to leave Paris, and go back to the States. He1d nodded. 3We1ll go together.ý That was when she1d done it. She1d shaken her head, and said 3No. I think I have to go alone.ý 3Alone...ý He1d turned away then, so she couldn1t see the pain on his face, couldn1t see what her words had done to him. 3Whatever you want. I understand.ý 3Do you?ý 3Yes. You almost lost the baby.ý He knew that wasn1t the only reason, but he1d been trying to save himself the deeper hurt of hearing her say it. She hadn1t taken the hint. 3It1s more that just that, Duncan.ý He had lashed out then, frustrated, hurt, and angry. 3You knew what I was, you knew what my life was like! What was I supposed to do? Let him walk away?ý 3No, you had to kill him. Duncan, I understand. I wanted you to kill him! At the time I would have taken his head myself!ý Not hearing her, he had gone on defending himself. 3He killed Bernard. He would have killed you.ý Anne1s voice had gentled slightly then, as if she1d finally begun to realize what effect her decision was having on him. 3I understand, but I can1t live my life like this, Duncan! I thought I could, but I can1t! Duncan, I1m a doctor, I save lives, I don1t take them! I can1t start wanting to take them!ý He felt the cold fog of despair closing around him again, felt yet another chance at normalcy slipping away, but he understood what she was saying, and couldn1t argue. He nodded curtly, unable to trust his voice. 3Duncan?ý Her uncertainty had called to him, and he1d turned, embracing her, letting her think it was all right, even though it wasn1t. That had been the last time he1d dared to let himself hope. Never again. He1d tried so damned hard, he1d been so honest, laid himself bare, and she1d ripped his heart out. Not maliciously, but just as painfully. He lifted his head and looked at the dark face regarding him seriously. 3Guinan, I have tried. Time after time. And every time I1ve tried, it1s been taken away from me. I finally gave up. Only a fool comes back for that treatment time after time, and though I may not be a genius, I1m not a fool either. Immortals are just not meant to have families. We1re not meant to love. It1s not part of our destiny.ý She put her hand on his arm, and looked up at him, her dark eyes sympathetic. 3I know that feeling, but I also know it1s not true. You1re as deserving of love as anyone, more than many. You1re one of those truly rare people who give more than they take. Why should you be denied the one thing you truly desire?ý He looked away from her with a sigh of defeat. 3Haven1t you heard a word I1ve said? It1s just not meant to be.ý Her hand tightened on his arm, and she shook him slightly, like a mother dog might shake an errant puppy. 3Don1t give me that `fate1 crap, Duncan MacLeod! You know as well as I do that your destiny is governed by free will, not three old women with a ball of string and some scissors. Make it happen! Take control of it!ý She was angry. It was the first time since he1d met her again that he1d really seen her angry. But it didn1t help. 3I can1t do that to a child, Guinan! Or maybe more honestly I can1t do it to me. It1s as much dread of them coming to hate and fear my difference that keeps me from it, as it is fear that they might take some kind of psychological damage.ý He gave her the truth. The fear that lay at the core of everything he1d told her so far. He had been different all his life, and knew what difference inspires. Fear. If he tried to parent Human children, they would come to resent him, possibly even to fear him. He saw the truth dawn in her eyes, saw her accept it, and her face held such sympathy that it hurt. He turned away from it until she spoke, her voice gentle and quiet. 3I think perhaps you were just born on the wrong planet, Duncan.ý He eyed her, puzzled. 3What do you mean?ý Her smile widened. 3I know at least a dozen kids who1d love to find a parent who lives as long as you will. In fact, I could have used a hand with one of those myself.ý He went still, not quite trusting that he1d understood. 3What are you saying?ý 3My people1s lives are long. Not as long as yours, perhaps, but does that matter. Most of those who were left behind by the Borg were babies, too young to be really useful to them and thus discarded. We1re a slow- maturing race, and those babies are children now. Some have gone to homes on Earth, or Betazed, or Vulcan, but there are others still waiting for a place to belong, for someone who will take them for what they are. You1re more like us than any of the other Federation sentients. You1d do well with our children and you wouldn1t have to hide what you are, because to them it would seem perfectly normal.ý He stared at her, her words slowly sinking in. They made sense. A chance, perhaps finally, the right one. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, looking around as a sense of presence began to manifest. It felt peculiar, though, muted and amorphous. Guinan stiffened, and looked around too, her expression a study in distaste. 3What is that? I1ve felt that before!ý The presence finally solidified, and Duncan pushed Guinan behind him, facing up the hill, waiting for whoever it was to make themselves known. Guinan stepped out from behind him, looking annoyed. 3I1m a big girl Duncan, I don1t need you to play knight in shining armor!ý 3Guinan, someone1s here for me. You don1t need to be involved in this.ý 3How do you know?ý 3I can sense when another immortal is near. I feel a... presence, a warning sign. I feel that now, but they1ve come for me, not you.ý 3How did they find you?ý 3How do you think they found me? It has to be the same person who sabotaged the Darius. They knew I1d come here. They...ý He stopped, eyes narrowing as a figure moved into sight over the rocks that had hidden him from view. There was something familiar about him. Something all too familiar. A shudder rattled him to the core. 3Dane.ý 3Hello MacLeod, it1s been a long time.ý Dane1s cold, blue-white gaze ranged over to Guinan, and his eyes widened. 3You! But you1re a mortal!ý He studied her intently, moving toward her. Duncan moved with him, interposing his own body between Dane and Guinan. 3Now this is interesting. How can you, a mortal, still be alive so many years later? Could it be that perhaps you1re not a mortal?ý He shifted his gaze to Duncan again, a knowing expression on his face. 3This explains why you keep company with her, doesn1t it MacLeod? I couldn1t figure it out before, but it makes sense now! You1re trying to learn how she does it, aren1t you?ý 3How she does what?ý Duncan asked, his voice harsh. 3How she hides her presence from other Immortals. I1ve never seen anything like it.ý 3She1s not hiding anything, she1s not one of us.ý 3Oh come now, you don1t really expect me to believe that, do you? I remember her! And I can see that she remembers me,ý he looked amusedly at Guinan. 3Can she fight? I guess we1ll find out eventually, but I think I1ll take a page from your book and see if I can learn her secret first. There1s no point in killing her until that advantage is gained.ý Duncan clenched his fists, then willed the fear away, letting his hands relax. 3There is no secret, she1s not an Immortal, she1s not even human. Leave her out of this, it1s between you and me!ý Dane sighed, shaking his head. 3Do you always have to be so such a goody-two-shoes? If you like, you can try to protect this one again, but this time there are no civil authorities handy to interrupt us. I know you haven1t fought in years, you1re rusty. I, on the other hand, have.ý Dane brought out his sword, a seaxe, somewhat short-bladed but no less lethal than Duncan1s katana. Duncan drew his blade as well. 3Guinan, this is my fight,ý he said evenly, hoping she would take the hint and run. She didn1t move, damn it. He chanced a glance at her, and found her staring at Dane with something of the mesmerized fascination of a moth for a spider. 3Guinan, go!ý he hissed, reaching up to unfasten his cloak, letting it fall so he wouldn1t get tangled in its folds. Dane1s attention snapped back to him. He saw the other man1s gaze flicker over him, and saw the feral smile that bloomed as he took in the traditional garb. 3Still playing the Highlander after all these years? You1re such a barbarian, MacLeod. Such a romantic. That will be the death of you yet. I, on the other hand, am a thoroughly modern sort of warrior.ý He dropped his sword, and reached into his coat, bringing out a phaser. With a shock, Duncan realized that Dane meant to stun him, and then take his head. He was planning to cheat. What defense had he for that? An odd calm come over him. Was this how it felt to accept death? It wasn1t so bad. He would fight, he had no choice. He had to give Guinan a chance to escape. But if he died, he died. 3Oh no you don1t!ý Guinan said from behind him. She grabbed his arm, and he heard the odd little chirp of a communicator being activated. 3Guinan to Enterprise, emergency! Two to beam-out on my coordinates!ý Duncan had time to register Dane1s stunned expression before the world faded away, and reformed entirely new. Even having heard her, it took him a moment to register the fact that he was now standing on a transporter dais aboard the Enterprise, not on a windy hillside on Valhalla. and that he was staring at a concerned-looking transporter technician, not Tanner Dane. He was momentarily glad that Worf had cleared him to carry his sword, since otherwise his arrival would have been heralded by an alarm claxon. 3Damn you Duncan MacLeod, don1t you ever do that again, do you hear me?ý He turned to Guinan, and found her standing beside him, arms akimbo, hands fisted on her hips, her compact form radiating fury. 3Do what?ý he asked stupidly. 3Give up! I felt you! You gave up! You were going to let him have you!ý 3No I wasn1t!ý he protested. 3I was...ý he broke off. Was that what he1d done? He reviewed his own actions. Maybe she was right. 3I didn1t mean to,ý he finally said, feebly. 3Hah! You1ve been trying to give up for ages, this is just the first time you1ve almost succeeded, and I won1t have it!ý 3You won1t have it?ý He asked incredulously. 3It1s my goddamned life!ý 3Yeah, it1s your life! Remember that!ý A few feet away, someone cleared their throat, reminding both of them that they weren1t alone. They looked at the transporter tech, then at each other, and Duncan saw the corners of Guinan1s lips twitching. He knew she was trying not to laugh, and it infected him, he felt the muscles in his face straining to keep his angry frown in place. They were squabbling like a pair of four-year-olds. He shook his head, and let himself smile ruefully. 3You1d think at our ages we1d be past this, wouldn1t you?ý 3I guess you1re never too old for childishness.ý He chuckled. 3I guess not. Thank you, if you hadn1t been there...ý 3I know. But I was. Obviously you1re not meant to die today. Come on, let1s get out of here.ý He nodded and followed her out. A few steps down the corridor, it suddenly hit him, how near a thing that had been, and who it had been. He stopped, and shuddered, raking his fingers through his hair. 3Are you all right?ý Guinan asked quietly. He nodded. 3Yeah, I guess. That was a lot closer than it should have been. It1s rather handy having the Enterprise here to get my sorry ass out of trouble.ý She grinned. 3Your ass is far from sorry, but I got it out of trouble.ý Her expression went hard, and he knew her next subject before she spoke. 3You didn1t tell me Dane was still alive.ý 3I didn1t know for sure, not until just now. I haven1t seen or heard of him in nearly two hundred years. I hoped he was dead. Guinan, why didn1t you run?ý 3It wasn1t time. I knew I had to stay there.ý He studied her, one eyebrow lifted. 3Your `gift1?ý 3If you want to call it that. I do have a touch of precognition. I just knew there was a reason for me to stay. Now I know why. I had to stay because if I hadn1t, he1d have taken you, and it1s not your time yet. You have a lot to do before you go.ý 3You can tell that?ý She smiled. 3Not the way you mean, but yes. He knew you were here. He knew exactly where you were. How?ý Duncan stared at her thoughtfully. 3Good question. He1s no technophobe, as you could see. Perhaps he used a scanner. I don1t register as a normal human, so if you know what to look for, you could find me.ý 3That must be it. So, what do we do now?ý He stared at her. 3What did you say?ý She stared back. 3I said, what do we do now? Since when are you hard of hearing?ý He cut her off. 3I heard you, I just couldn1t believe you said it. You know I can1t involve you in this. I have to settle it. It1s between us. Civil authorities and punishments have no effect on an immortal!ý 3Duncan, he might kill you!ý 3I don1t think so, not if we1re fighting as equals. Because it1s been so long since I last fought another Immortal, he probably thinks I1m rusty, but I1m not. I1ve never stopped training, and my sessions with Worf helped. He1s one of the more accomplished swordsmen I1ve met, not to mention being a great deal stronger than most of them as well. I can take Dane. I could have taken him last time we met, if we hadn1t been interrupted. This is something I have to do. If I don1t, he1ll just keep coming back. He seems to have some sort of fixation with me.ý Guinan regarded him for a long, silent moment, long enough that he began to feel uncomfortable, then finally she nodded. 3You1re right, this is your battle. But you should be equally armed. I can get you a phaser.ý He crossed his arms and squared his chin. 3That... that isn1t the way it1s done. It wouldn1t be honorable.ý 3Honor!ý she huffed. 3You1ve been spending too much time with Worf! The hell with honor, let1s talk about expediency!ý He almost snapped back at her, but something made him stop and think about it first, and his answer was considerable gentler than it might have been. 3Guinan, if I have no honor, what makes me any different from Dane?ý She sighed. 3I should have known you1d have an answer for me. Fine, be honorable. Just don1t expect me to.ý He grinned. 3You couldn1t be dishonorable if you wanted to, so don1t try that one on me. Look, I have to take care of something down in cargo bay 4 before I go planetside again. Will you meet me there in twenty minutes? There1s something I need to find before I go back to Valhalla and confront Dane. Something I1ve been meaning to give you.ý She looked at him suspiciously. 3What?ý He shook his finger at her. 3If I told you then it wouldn1t be a surprise, now would it? Just meet me there.ý **** Guinan stood watching Duncan walk away, feeling the unmistakable stomach-clench of a premonition. He needed her. He was in danger, and he needed her. Hoping the urgency of the feeling didn1t mean he wouldn1t be safe for the next few minutes, she dashed to her quarters to change her clothes. She pulled on her fencing whites, knowing that the sophisticated fabric armor would turn a blade long enough for her to get out of its way. Over them she pulled on the loose-fitting tunic and trousers that had almost become a uniform to her. Checking in the mirror, she was satisfied that no one would suspect she wore body armor beneath her clothes. That done, she knelt in front of the box that sat on the lower shelf of one end-table, and hesitated a moment. Was this right? Was she supposed to do this? Nothing answered her, save her own need. Steeling herself against the memories she knew she would unleash, Guinan opened the box. Carefully unwinding the tapestries that bound it, she freed the tooled and dyed leather belt and sheath that held her chadith. It had been a very long time since she had even thought about the contents of the box, let alone held them in her hands. As she drew the blade and stared at its damascened length, she remembered her mother handing it to her. She could even remember the chanting of the other women, and the scent of incense that had drifted in the air. The chadith dagger was one of the gifts which ritually marked the advent of womanhood on El-Auria. The tradition had been archaic, no one actually used the blade to defend their honor by the time she had come of age, but the symbol had persisted. Tai1ai1la... had she had ever really been so young? So incredibly, unknowingly young? She examined the chadith carefully, noting that despite her neglect, the blade was in beautiful condition. Not a speck of rust marred it, and the edge was still sharp enough to cleanly sever a strand of hair with only the slightest pressure. Its weight and heft were very different from that of her fencing foil, but she had no doubt that she could wield it effectively if necessary, and it had the advantage of being small enough to conceal beneath the drape of her tunic. She put the belt around her waist, surprised to find that it went around. Apparently she hadn1t changed as much as she thought she had. Fastening the catch she felt the weight settle into place, oddly familiar though it had been aeons since she had worn it. She thought of Picard1s foil, Worf1s betleH, Duncan1s katana... this was her own heirloom blade. It seemed somehow appropriate that she should use it now. She looked into the box for a moment, seeing the few bits and pieces she had saved from her past, and for the first time it struck her as a little odd that she hid them away like this. As if by hiding them she could deny the pain of her history. Perhaps that was exactly what she had been doing. Interesting, how a small change to ones environment could bring about rather important self-revelation. Duncan1s appearance had served to remind her that her life had held far more good than bad. Why had she gone so long denying that? Duncan was good for her. By helping him, she helped herself, since his problems were in many ways similar to her own. Thinking about him reminded her that he was waiting, and she quickly got to her feet and headed for the door, then paused. Deliberately she went over to the concealed storage unit near the replicator and took out a small, old-fashioned personal phaser. It wasn1t as powerful or bulky as the ones the Enterprise crew were issued for away missions, but it could prove just as handy. Now that she knew who was after Duncan, she had no qualms at all about using it, if it became necessary. She set it on heavy stun and clipped it to her belt next to the knife, and adjusted her tunic to hide both of them. Amazing what loose clothes could conceal... a weapon, or a psyche. **** In the Dark, part 14/14 Duncan pawed through a storage bin, annoyed that he hadn1t been able to locate the item he wanted. He knew it should be there, he remembered packing it when he1d left the Darius. A small lacquered box, which held several carefully wrapped carvings. The box and what it contained were some of the very few bits of his past he always carried with him, since they were small enough to transport easily. Speaking of which, he needed to get this stuff sent down to the warehouse when this thing with Dane was over. He smiled, realizing he had already made up his mind that he would win. The less doubt, the better. He sat back on his heels and tried to remember exactly what he1d done with it. He remembered going to his cabin and packing clothing, his katana, his books and disks, his personal stuff... books. That was it! He1d put the box with his books because it was the same size and shape. With a grin he went to the other storage unit and opened it. Sure enough, the box was there. He lifted it out and opened it, spilling the silk-wrapped objects it contained into his hand. He remembered Guinan standing in his loft over the dojo, looking at these with reverence. He hoped her memories of that evening were as good as his own. He1d realized from the starkness of her quarters that she had nothing pleasant left of her past, and he wanted to give her back a piece of it. He put the figurines back in the box and closed it, then turned toward the door to meet Guinan outside, as he1d found what he was looking for. Halfway to the door he felt the sickening surge of recognition flood him, felt his heartbeat quicken as his body responded automatically to the perceived threat. Another immortal was near, on the other side of the door. Dane? How could he have gotten aboard? But who else could it be? Duncan carefully set the lacquer box on an out of the way storage drum, and drew a fold of his plaid forward to conceal his sword. Stepping forward, the sensor in the door `saw1 him and opened it. The corridor was filled with a herd of children milling around in excited array. From their clothing and accents he knew they were Valhallan, not children from the Enterprise. It was a tour group! Of course! That1s how Dane had gotten aboard. He studied the group carefully, hoping that he was wrong, that the presence he had felt belonged to someone other than Tanner Dane. He saw a Star Fleet ensign looking a bit besieged, he saw the familiar faces of the children, many of whom he knew. There were only a handful of adults present, among them Tara Kinnon and Rob MacPherson who taught at the school, and some parents clearly along to help keep the group from attaining critical mass. He almost smiled at the futility of that, then he saw Dane and all humor fled. The other immortal stood at the rear of the group looking around tensely, clearly he felt Duncan1s presence. He had his hand on young Dinah Fitzpatrick1s shoulder, and the girl looked distinctly uncomfortable. He went rigid, anger flaring in a white-hot wave. He wanted to grab the man and throw him across the corridor, but he restrained himself. He saw Caitlin Matheson and Gillian Blackshear attempting to corral a pair of little hellions near him and hoping Dane wouldn1t hear him over the gleeful noise of the kids, he quietly spoke to get their attention. 3Gill, Callie, do me a favor would you?ý Callie looked up, recognition bringing a smile to her rounded features. She and her husband were friends of his, and he knew he could trust her to stay calm. 3Duncan! Welcome home! What can we do for you?ý 3Without making a scene, would you get Dinah away from that man? He1s not a healthy person to be around the children. I1ll take care of things once you1ve separated them. He won1t make a scene in front of the whole group.ý Gillian scowled, turning. 3I1ll see to it.ý She moved through the sea of children like a ship under full sail, and stopped blocking Duncan1s view, and fortunately, Dane1s as well. Her voice was clear and calm as she spoke. 3Dinah, you1re not with your partner. Go find Michelle and stay with her now, sweetheart. And thank you for keeping an eye on her, sir.ý Dane muttered something unintelligible and let Dinah go. The girl skittered quickly away, looking over her shoulder as if to assure herself that he wasn1t following. Duncan felt a wave of relief wash over him as the group moved on, Callie and Gillian bringing up the rear, making sure none of the kids were within Dane1s reach. As Gillian moved, Dane saw Duncan, and he stiffened, then shot a glance at the two women, and arched an eyebrow in question. Duncan smiled and nodded, and Dane drew an invisible hash-mark in the air, scoring a point to Duncan. Within a few moments they were alone in the corridor, only the echo of children1s voices bearing witness to their passing. 3You would stoop so low as to threaten children to get to me?ý Duncan grated out. 3Why not? It would have worked, had you not seen me first. They1re just cattle, and with the way humans breed,there are always more of them around. You1ve more lives than a cat, MacLeod. I carefully arranged things so you1d be alone for me on that planetoid, and then you go and get yourself rescued by a damned battleship! Then again on the planet... your friend1s quick thinking saved you yet again. Very annoying. I bet you thought you1d gotten away from me, didn1t you? You didn1t think I1d follow you.ý 3The decision to leave wasn1t mine.ý 3I noticed. She1s quite protective of you, but then you always did seem to have that effect on women. She is fascinating, that one. I must find out how she shields. It will be a most valuable asset.ý 3I told you she1s not one of us! She1s an El-Aurian.ý Dane lifted his eyebrows in obvious disbelief. 3There you go again, making up stories. It1s just too obvious, MacLeod. El-Auria? I1ve never heard of such a place.ý 3That hardly matters now, it1s between you and me, and I don1t intend to lose. This time no phasers, just blades.ý Dane sighed. 3I did have to give up my phaser to get aboard. Their security wouldn1t let me bring it with me. Fortunately, this can be shielded much more effectively.ý He brought out something that looked rather like a flashlight, and thumbed a switch on its side. The air in front of him shimmered and changed, revealing a sword, the same one he1d had on the planet. Duncan wondered how the hell he1d managed that trick, but didn1t have time to dwell on it. He took a step back, triggering the door mechanism again. 3I don1t think this is an appropriate place for what we do. Come on, in here.ý Dane looked suspicious. 3What1s inside?ý Duncan rolled his eyes. 3It1s a cargo bay! It1s full of boxes, all right? What does it matter, anyway? It1s a place to fight.ý 3I don1t like traps,ý Dane said tightly. 3I don1t set traps.ý Duncan replied, equally terse. To his surprise, Dane laughed. 3True. You1re too damned noble, aren1t you? Lead on, MacLeod. Let1s finish this, it1s gone on far too long.ý 3It certainly has.ý Duncan backed into the cargo bay, freeing his sword from his plaid as he moved. Dane advanced on him, sword extended. Behind him, just before the door slid closed, Duncan saw movement and let his gaze flicker past his opponent for a moment. He swore under his breath as he saw Guinan slip inside before it closed, to stand half-hidden by the arch of the doorway. Damn her, what the hell did she think she was doing? She should be safely out of harms way! Pain scored his arm, drawing his attention immediately back where it belonged. Dane had struck, and he1d instinctively parried, but not in time. The fading sting and itch told him it was a minor wound, though, and he ignored it. His katana was longer than Dane1s seaxe, and he was taller, so he had better reach. He used that to his advantage, wrapping a blow around Dane1s defenses to leave a slash and a darkening stain along his ribs, through his finely tailored suit. Dane growled and moved back, then darted in a stabbing attack. Duncan dodged it, and they closed, swords hilt-to-hilt. Duncan managed to break free and he scored another hit before stepping out of range. Dane lunged and slipped a little, his slick-soled shoes not finding a purchase on the smooth floor of the cargo bay. Duncan1s moccasin-style boots had soft, gripping soles that gave him an advantage. Dane was fighting strangely... his defenses were unusually sloppy, and his assault unusually intense. Time after time Dane attacked in a way that left him open to a return blow. Puzzled but too busy to ponder the meaning of it, Duncan took advantage of it, touching Dane time after time until he was staggering with bloodloss. He finally dropped to his knees, and even as Duncan thought `this is too easy1 he drew back his katana and brought it down. Something grabbed his sword and it rebounded away with the same force he1d put into the blow. The effect threw him several feet and he landed on the floor, stunned, arms aching from the impact. He saw Dane rise, a triumphant smile on his face. His mind refused for a moment to grasp that Dane wasn1t dead. How could a dead man be walking toward him? Then he understood that somehow the blow had been turned aside... though how Dane had done it he had no idea. He rolled to his knees and tried to lift his sword to ward off the blow he knew was coming, but his arms were still too shaky to work properly and the blade wavered. He concentrated, trying to steady it, when there was a sudden movement behind Dane. 3You1re cheating,ý Guinan1s said, her voice clear and hard, 3...and that gives me the field.ý Dane stopped mid-stride, clearly caught off guard. He jerked around, mouth open in astonishment as Guinan1s arm came around from behind him and rammed up under his solar plexus. His eyes widened as his breath hissed out, and he slowly collapsed over on himself. She withdrew her hand and he saw that she held a blade, dark with blood. Dropping her dagger, she bent to wrest Dane1s blade from his hand. He scrabbled, trying feebly to retain it, and then with his other hand he found her dropped dagger. Duncan lunged forward to stop him and sprawled on the floor, a foot short of his goal, like a batter tagged out trying to slide into third base. Dane lashed out at Guinan, laying her open from navel to breast. Duncan moaned, closing his eyes momentarily, only to open them a moment later when Guinan, unbelievably, laughed. He stared, stunned. She seemed unhurt, and he could see a white gleam beneath the torn fabric of her tunic. 3You lose,ý she said, amusedly, then with her free hand reached down and tore loose something at his throat. A second later she held up an object that looked for all the world like a necklace. She tossed it toward Duncan. 3Never trust a sociopath, Duncan.ý He picked up the object, studying it. Up close it was clearly some sort of technological device, and bore what looked like Ferengi glyphs on one side. He still wasn1t sure what it was. He levered himself to his feet and looked at Guinan to ask, and stopped cold, stunned. 3No!ý he managed to shout, a hand extended as if that could stop her. It didn1t, of course, and he flinched at the all-too-familiar whistling sound of a blade slashing down, then the dull, wet sound of it impacting human flesh. He shuddered, knowing that he had come within seconds of being on the receiving end of that sound. He wasn1t sorry Dane was dead, but he wished she hadn1t done it. It wasn1t fair to put that burden on her. >From the corpse, a swirling mist of energy rose and swayed toward her, then abandoned her to reach for him. He was momentarily surprised that it left her. Once more he1d forgotten that she wasn1t that like him. He shook his head, as if that would turn the Quickening aside. He wanted no part of Tanner Dane, not even this. He didn1t even believe in the Game any more, why should he play it? A tendril found him, shockingly cold, ecstatically painful; as if he had taken the substance of space inside himself. Cold, dark, empty, yet strangely seductive. He wrenched away, one hand over the entry point as if he could physically ward it off. Ward it off. He remembered something as another bolt shook him, and he moaned, shaking his head again. 3Give me his sword!ý he managed to croak out, backing away. She pulled her gaze away from the writhing energy and looked down at the weapon in her hand, clearly puzzled, then shrugged and moved to give it to him, skirting the mist-like tendrils carefully. He took the sword in his left hand and crossed his katana over it, placing the weapons between himself and the mist like a barrier. He1d only managed to do this one other time in his life, but he had to try. He couldn1t bring himself to accept Dane1s darkness into himself. The mist struck at him, and he moved to intercept it. It hit the crossed blades and recoiled, shooting off to zip crazily along the wall panels until it faded. Another tendril tried to reach him and he blocked it as well, working as hard to refuse the dark gift as he had fought to kill the man who carried it. He saw Guinan crouched next to a storage box, watching him, watching the energy, her eyes wide with amazement and a touch of fear she hadn1t shown when confronting Dane. He flinched from that. God, the last thing he wanted was for her to fear him! He wanted to reach out to her, to take away the fear, but the Quickening hadn1t finished with him yet. An energy tentacle got past his defenses and struck him full in the chest. It staggered him, filling him with torturous delight. He shuddered, trying to resist the impulse to yield and let it take him. Suddenly she was there with him, ducking under the swords to come up inside the circle of his arms. Her hands covered his, guiding him, supporting him. With her help he managed to deflect the last of the streams away to ricochet around the room, expending themselves against the ship. He realized after a moment that the sway and lurch beneath his feet wasn1t just his own exhaustion. The ship was reeling. He hadn1t even thought about what a Quickening might do to the all-too-fragile shell of a starship. He prayed to any deity that would listen that it do no real harm. Finally the energy gave up. He watched it shimmer and lick against the walls, then disappear with a plasmatic crackle along the conduits. He sighed, and let his arms fall, releasing Guinan from his embrace as he did. She turned and slid her arms around him, holding him close, her breathing as fast and labored as his own. Finally she leaned back a little and looked up at him with a wicked smile. 3Was it good for you too?ý He couldn1t help it. Despite everything, he laughed. She wasn1t the first to make that dead-on comparison, nor would she be the last, but somehow this was the first time it had seemed amusing instead of perverse. As they stood, laughing, the door into the corridor opened and a gaggle of gold-uniformed security officers poured into the room, led by an annoyed- looking Worf. He stopped, surveying the scene, and motioned for his team to lower their phasers. 3Evidently you no longer need our assistance. I take it this was the saboteur?ý Guinan nodded. 3It was. I heard him admit to it.ý She smiled suddenly. 3Sorry, Worf. We were kind of in a hurry or we would have let you take care of it.ý He nodded, looking at Dane1s body, and a little ways away, his head. 3An effective, if messy solution. I salute you, MacLeod.ý Duncan shook his head. 3Salute Guinan, not me. Without her I1d be the one lying there.ý Worf looked at Guinan in astonishment, then shook his massive head. 3I do not know why I am surprised.ý Guinan chuckled. 3Neither do I. I1ve taken you down in mok1bara, and, beaten Picard three out of four matches with sabers.ý He nodded, then looked at her apologetically 3I am sure you were justified in doing this, but we will have to investigate.ý 3I know. It1s not a problem. I activated the bay recorders when I came in, I trust they will show that we acted in self-defense.ý Worf nodded again, and turned to MacLeod. 3The scanners registered a massive discharge of energy, what sort of weapon was he carrying that would cause it? We could not identify the source or type of energy involved.ý Duncan snorted. 3I1m not surprised, and it wasn1t a weapon, it was him. That1s what happens when an immortal dies in the presence of another immortal. We1ve never been quite sure exactly what causes it, or why it only happens if there1s another of us present. As for what it is, I suppose you could call it a `soul,1 for lack of a better term.ý Worf looked dissatisfied. 3Commander LaForge will not be pleased.ý 3No, he certainly isn1t,ý said the man in question who had come in behind the security team, tricorder out and scanning. 3How the hell am I supposed to explain to the captain that someone1s soul knocked out the damned starboard power coupling?ý He sighed, shaking his head. 3Oh well, I guess we1ve seen weirder things. We1re just lucky the damage wasn1t any worse. Next time, take your fight planetside.ý Duncan nodded. 3I1m sorry, I didn1t have much choice.ý 3No, I don1t suppose you did. Well, at least I1ll have time to get things back in shape before the captain gets back.ý 3Where is he?ý Guinan asked. Geordie grinned. 3Well, he went planetside about an hour ago, and he took his saddle. I1d say he went riding.ý 3Good. He needed that after the vacation he hadý she turned and looked at Worf. 3Can we go? I need to change.ý Worf nodded. 3I know where to find you if I have questions.ý She took Duncan1s hand and urged him toward the door. 3Let1s get out of here.ý **** They walked in a rather subdued silence to her quarters. As they stepped inside, he saw her tunic gape along the slash Dane had put in it, and he reached out to slide a finger down the rent. 3I thought you were dead...ý he said softly. 3It scared the hell out of me.ý She put her hand over his, guiding his fingers farther inside so he could feel the heavy fabric beneath the tear. 3I wore my fencing armor. I knew Dane was dangerous, and I1ve no desire to leave this life just yet. I1ve got too much left to do. I1m sorry I frightened you, but I just couldn1t stand there and watch him kill you because he cheated.ý 3Speaking of which, what was that thing?ý 3A personal shield. Latest Ferengi make, too. Usually they1re full- body protection but he1d modified his so it only covered his throat. I think that1s why he let you cut him so many times, to sucker you in, to make you think he was vulnerable.ý Duncan nodded. 3It1s funny, I remember thinking it was too easy.ý He rubbed the back of his hand against the armor, feeling the softness of her beneath it. How could someone so soft be so strong? At that nonsensical thought, he realized he was feeling a little stunned, in shock. She1d killed Dane. He still couldn1t quite believe it. He should have done it. 3You shouldn1t have killed him,ý he said. 3It wasn1t your fight.ý 3Duncan, he made it my fight four hundred years ago when he tried to use me as bait. I don1t feel guilty, so do me a favor and don1t feel guilty for me, okay?ý He nodded, smiling a little. 3Understood.ý 3Good. You know, I didn1t quite believe you when you told me about the energy thing... not until I saw it. That was amazing. But why did you fight it? I could tell you wanted to let it in.ý He shuddered and dropped onto her couch, his face in his hands. 3I did. It1s hard to resist. Guinan, you can1t imagine what it1s like. Sex, only a thousand times more intense. Pleasure that1s simultaneously agony. I wanted it, but at the same time it was him and I wanted nothing of him to become part of me. I felt like I would be<ý he paused, searching for the right word, and found it. 3I felt contaminated by him. Can you understand?ý She nodded, a frown on her face. 3Rape.ý 3Worse. Imagine enjoying it.ý She shivered. 3Duncan...ý she knelt and drew him into her arms. 3Sometimes I can forget who it was,ý he whispered against her shoulder, 3...forget their evil, forget everything but the experience; but not this time.ý 3It1s all right, you did what you had to.ý 3With your help. For that, I can1t thank you enough.ý 3There1s no need, Duncan. None at all.ý Her hands slid beneath his, framing his face, then her lips were on his, soft, warm, alive. He kissed her back like a starving man, breathing her breath, feeling her heartbeat in her mouth, in her body. Finally they broke, and he leaned against her with a sigh. 3`Breathe me, beloved...1ý he said softly, quoting. 3`Ravish me, so I can pass on to sleep, and to love.1ý she quietly gave him the next line. He lifted his head, staring into her eyes, amazed to find she knew the poem, and could make the association. 3`I feel death1s rejuvenating tide transform my blood to balm and ether.1ý 3`I live by day full of faith and courage.1ý she gave him the next line, and waited, then joined him in the last few words. 3`And perish by night in holy fire.1ý ** 3Perfect.ý he said, and closed his eyes. She tugged him to his feet, and he followed her. **** Guinan stared out at the sunset, watching the light filter through the gathering storm clouds like some Turnerian painting, feeling a little sad, a little apprehensive. The view toward the mountains from the gardens behind Duncan1s house awe-inspiring. No wonder he1d chosen this place to build his home. Of course, his home was no less awe-inspiring. How many people lived in an authentic medieval mansion that dated from seven hundred years earlier? He1d had the building imported, stone by stone, from Earth. She still couldn1t believe anyone would have wanted to raze something this beautiful to make room for an apartment building. It even had a chapel. That she understood quite well. Being what he was, holy ground made this place not just a home, but a sanctuary. One thing was for certain, with forty rooms, he had plenty of room for a family. 3I wish we had more time,ý she said finally. 3You can come back any time you like.ý 3I know.ý Guinan sighed, and looked at him anxiously. 3You do understand, don1t you?ý Duncan nodded. 3Of course. Kismet, fate... whatever you want to call it. You can1t leave them yet.ý 3Not yet. There1s something left undone, something I have to finish. I don1t know what it is yet, but when it happens, I1ll know.ý He smiled. 3You1ve told me that ten times now. Guinan, I understand, all right? I1m not angry. I1m not upset.ý She smiled and shook her head. 3I know, I just can1t help making sure. I don1t want there to be any misunderstandings.ý 3Don1t worry, I think I1m old enough to handle this,ý he grinned. 3Besides, we still have a lot of planning to do. You1ll be hearing from me.ý 3True. Sorry to be so insecure.ý He laughed. 3It1s nice to see it happens to you, too.ý She eyed him narrowly. 3It1s a good thing you said `too1.ý 3I wouldn1t dare do otherwise, my nose would start to grow.ý She laughed, then leaned back against him with a sigh. 3I1ll miss you.ý 3I1ll miss you too.ý The emotion in his voice told her he wasn1t just echoing her sentiments. He meant it. 3Whatever will you do without me here?ý she asked, jokingly. 3I1ll endeavor to bear up manfully under the strain.ý She grinned and stood up, brushing grass and twigs off her rear. 3Well, I guess it1s time, they1re going to leave without me if I don1t get back.ý She reached for her communicator. 3Wait...ý She stopped, her hand hovering over the device. 3What?ý 3I have something for you. If I remember right, you once expressed a liking for this.ý He dug in his sporran and came out with a small object. He caught her hand and placed the item on her palm. It was light, and oddly shaped. She regarded it curiously, then unwrapped the silk that shrouded it. In the fading light the amber turtle fetish gleamed warm and golden, like a little sun. 3Oh, Duncan! I didn1t even know you noticed!ý she said, remembering the first time she1d seen it. He1d been making coffee, and she hadn1t thought he1d been watching her at all. He looked a little embarrassed. 3I have a good memory.ý 3It1s beautiful, but... why?ý 3I wanted you to have something from your past that you can look at with happy memories instead of painful ones. At least, I hope that1s what you1ll have.ý 3Of course I will!ý She smoothed her fingers over the back of the fetish, feeling the tiny lines of its carved shell, and grinned. 3A turtle, eh? Are you saying I tend to live in a shell?ý 3Hopefully not any more. Maybe it1ll help remind you not to go back in. It has other symbolism as well, turtles are long-lived.ý 3How appropriate.ý 3I thought so.ý 3Anything else?ý 3According to the legends of the people who carved this, Turtle carried the world on her back. Without her, there would be no place for living things to rest, no peace, just endless wandering.ý She looked at him, saw the serenity in his dark eyes, and smiled. That was new. 3That1s lovely. Thank you. I1ll put it in my quarters< out where anyone can see it.ý He smiled happily. 3And you1ll let people in to see it, right? No more hiding by yourself?ý She nodded gravely. 3Nor will you?ý 3How can I, now? Or at least, in a couple of months.ý 3True. I hope you know what you1re getting yourself into.ý 3I haven1t a clue... but does anyone ever?ý She shook her head, laughing. 3No, or they1d never do it. And despite warnings from those of us who do know, they keep volunteering!ý 3It1ll be good for me.ý 3Tell me that in twenty years and I may believe you.ý Her communicator chirped at her, and she sighed. 3Last call. I really have to go.ý 3I know. Come back.ý 3As soon as I can.ý She stood on her toes to kiss him, and stepped away, touching the communicator to signal her readiness. She lifted a hand and saw him do the same. 3Godspeed, Guinan,ý she heard as the world disappeared. **** Duncan looked up from his workscreen, drawing himself out of the past he was putting into words and back to the present. The shrieks from outside had become a bit on the shrill side. He sighed and pushed his chair back, going to the door to look out. As he1d suspected, things were getting out of hand. He pushed open the door and strode out into the summer warmth, and managed to peel E1lan and Amber off Donal who lay on his back flailing feebly at his attackers. The boy scrambled to his feet and retreated a few steps to stand with Dhavi and Ewan. 3I told you it1s not nice to gang up on the boys, E1lan.ý 3Donal started it!ý Amber said, glaring at her brother who was now prudently shielded behind the other boys. 3He said we were just girls!ý Duncan chuckled, shaking his head. 3Donal1s too young to know that there is no `just1 about girls. Don1t mind him. He1ll grow out of it.ý E1lan looked up at him, her dark face set in a frustrated scowl. 3But how long will it take him? We1ve been trying to teach him for two years!ý He laughed again. 3Face it, love. Males are slow. I learned, but it took me several hundred years.ý E1lan stared at Donal in dismay. 3But he1s human! At that rate he1ll be dead before he learns!ý 3No, he won1t. Remember, they learn faster in recompense for their shorter lifespans.ý She nodded thoughtfully, and sighed. 3Maybe soon, then.ý 3If you keep teaching him, it should be. But next time, one-on-one. It1s not fair to...ý he broke off, feeling a powerful surge of Presence. E1lan and Dhavi looked around, curious. 3What1s that?ý Dhavi asked, 3It feels like you, but you1re here.ý Duncan looked at the figure who stood between him and the house, frowning because the sun was in his eyes and he couldn1t see them clearly. Whoever it was, they were strong. He hadn1t felt a presence like that in a very long time. Dane hadn1t even come close to this level. 3I1m not sure who it is, Dhavi, but stay here while I find out.ý He strode back toward the figure, tensely realizing that his sword was in the house and he would have to pass them to get it, then stopped in his tracks as the shadow of the house blocked the sun and he could see who it was. 3What the hell? Guinan?ý He was confused. She1d never set off his `alarms1 like this before. She put her hands on her hips and looked at him in mock offense. 3That is not the kind of greeting I expect from you, Duncan.ý He covered the distance between them, and greeted her properly before speaking again. 3I1m sorry, but...ý he stopped, realizing the sensation wasn1t coming from her, but from farther away, behind her. He looked from her, to the house, and back, noting her sly smile. 3All right, what have you done?ý he asked sternly. 3I ran across someone I thought you might want to see.ý 3Who?ý She turned and waved to someone inside the house. A tall, slim, dark-haired man stepped out, looking as if he were a bit unsure of his welcome. Duncan stared, a slow smile spreading over his face as he realized who it was. 3My God... Methos? Is it really you?ý Methos nodded, looking oddly tentative. In all the years Duncan had known him, he1d never seen the man anything other than self-assured. He gestured at Guinan. 3She said you wouldn1t mind... that you1d want to see me...ý 3She was right. Welcome, friend. If it had been anyone else I1d have gone for my sword, but you1re always welcome.ý 3I wasn1t sure, after what happened...ý 3Oh for god1s sake, Methos! That was three hundred years ago! Live and let live, all right?ý The other man smiled finally, the old, familiar, slightly irritating smile Duncan remembered all too well. He was about to say something about it when a sudden chorus of shrieks and yelps from behind him told him his earlier attempt to mediate the altercation hadn1t taken. He sighed, looking from Guinan to Methos, who was looking rather puzzled. 3Excuse me for just a minute,ý Duncan said as he turned and waded back into the fray. This time he grabbed the aggressors around their waists and stood with a squirming girl under each arm, waiting until Donal was again safely out of reach before he set them on their feet. 3You two, go inside until you1ve cooled off,ý he said sternly. They protested loudly, but he held fast, and finally they turned and sulked off into the house. He turned to the boys. 3You three, go down to the village and spend a couple of hours at the library reading up on gender equality. When you come back, I want essays.ý That set up howls of protest louder than those his other commandment had evoked, but the boys finally turned and headed off down the path. He turned to find Methos and Guinan grinning at him, and after a moment, found himself grinning back. 3In fact, Methos, I1m glad you1re here. I could use some help.ý Methos backed away, his hand spread. 3I was just stopping by to say hi...ý 3Oh no you don1t. You owe me. I said live and let live, not forgive and forget.ý Methos sighed. 3All right, for a while anyway. But I don1t owe you forever.ý 3No, just long enough to get this bunch through puberty.ý Methos stared at him, appalled. 3Oh my god...ý Guinan chuckled. 3I thought he might come in handy.ý 3And you were right, as usual. Of course, we could use you around for the girls.ý 3I1ve got to get back to the Enterprise...ý she began, hastily. 3One of these days you won1t have that excuse.ý She smiled, her expression softening. 3Actually, I1m looking forward to that.ý He smiled back. 3So am I.ý The End *NOTE: Poetry used in sections 6 and 14 are from 3Hymns to the Nightý by Novalis (Georg von Hardenberg, 1772-1801), translation by Dick Higgins, c. 1988, MacPherson ed., ISBN: 0-914232-90-8 **NOTE: The flashback scene to Anne and Duncan in Paris is from the third-season Highlander episode 3Mortal Sins,ý written by Lawrence Shore. No copyright infringment is intended. ***NOTE: The reference Picard makes to sculptor Rena Taylor referrs to the fanfiction 3A la Qý by Kellie Matthews-Simmons and Julia Kosatka. We don1 need no steenkin1 permission to use our own story! :-) Julia Kosatka University of Houston SFLAaE/BS, PSEB, DDEB 3Keep your friends close... but keep your enemies closer.ý - Deep Throat, The X-Files