Date: Mon, 14 Aug 1995 09:19:36 -0600 (MDT) Reply-To: Highlander TV show stories Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Kellie Matthews-Simmons Subject: In The Dark part 6 of 9 - Revised This story copyright 1995 by the authors. Permission to distribute freely is given, provided you do not attempt to sell it. The X-Files is a trademark of Fox Television, characters not used by permission. Highlander is a trademark of Rysher Entertainment, characters not used by permission. Star Trek: The Next Generation is a trademark of Paramount, Inc., characters not used by permission. (Whew! That's a lot of disclaiming!) In the Dark 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, there's 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 "beta test" 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 isn't meshing universes, that's fairly simple. The hard part is blending styles. The X-Files, and Highlander, 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 we've 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, Part 6 c. 1995 Kellie Matthews-Simmons & Julia Kosatka "Your presence, your `aura,' if you will, is so much stronger than that of most humans. Before, I never understood why, 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." Duncan nodded. "Dane had convinced him that he could become one of us by killing. It wouldn't 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," he shook his head, sadly. "Poor Evan. He's not the first to want immortality, nor will he be the last. Fortunately for him, he didn't have to find out the hard way that it's not all it's cracked up to be." Guinan looked at him quietly for a moment, her eyes narrowed. "Having a hard time with it, are you?" He slouched back in his chair and nodded. "Aye. Sometimes I wonder if I haven't lived long enough." She sighed, looking off into some unknown distance. "I know what you mean. I've felt that. It's difficult not to, sometimes. You wonder why you're still here when so many others aren't, you wonder what purpose you serve." "Exactly." He was surprised to realize how good it felt to talk like this, to have someone understand what he felt, and know it wasn't just lip service. She'd been there. She knew. "I'm glad we met again," she said suddenly. "I've never been happy with the way we parted." "Me either. It's funny, you and I could have told each other our secrets then, and been better off! But we didn't realize it." "That's the thing about secrets. They isolate us, even when they don't need to." He put a 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. "Sorry, I'm tired. I've been trying to keep my ship running on chewing gum and bailing wire since she went down. It's been a long five days." "It was your ship that went down on Koto Barani?" Guinan asked, then seconds later she smiled and shook her head, answering her own question. "Of course, where else could you have come from? What happened?" "I honestly don't 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 wasn't just the engines, either. It was everything. Engines, navigation, hell, even the replicators went offline! The only system that didn't fail was life- support. If I could think of a reason why, I might suspect someone sabotaged the ship. But what I was carrying wouldn't be valuable to anyone but the Valhallans. There's no logical reason for anyone to sabotage my ship." "Duncan, a ship doesn't 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, I'll scream! Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, Duncan. Don't let yourself get paranoid." He smiled at her metaphor, and nodded. "You're right, of course. I just want someone to blame for Jeremy's death besides myself. And no, you don't have to remind me that it wasn't my fault. I know it already." He leaned back, and closed his eyes for a moment, as much to shut out her sympathy as to rest for a moment. "You are tired, aren't you? Why don't you go to your quarters and rest?" He opened his eyes and sat forward again. "I was hungry, I asked Barclay where I could get dinner." "But you've taken care of that now?" "I did, thanks." "So, what's the real reason?" He stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me... El- Aurians are telepathic." "Not exactly, but sort of. Enough to know when someone's lying to me, in any case." He grinned wryly, shaking his head. "It figures. All right, I admit it. I'm trying to avoid Dr. Crusher." "Why?" "I don't want her finding out what I am, and if I set foot in sickbay, she'll know something's up. She thinks she needs to examine me and won't believe me when I tell her I'm fine." Guinan chuckled. "That's 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?" "Probably, but I haven't 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, I'm a bit lost here. My ship was big enough for me, and my first officer, and that's about it. The Enterprise is a blessed floating city. Besides, even if they have assigned me quarters, I can't go there, because then she'll know where to find me." "True, but you can't avoid her forever." He grinned. "No, but I might just be able to avoid her until I can think of a good way to put her off." Guinan laughed, and the rich, throaty sound took him back years. It was somehow fitting that he'd met her again in a bar. She glanced up at something over his left shoulder, then back at him. "Look, I have to get back to Ten-Forward, there's a new shift about to start and I need to be there. You're welcome to stay here if you like. She won't be able to find you, and you can sleep. I won't be back for hours. How does that sound?" He sighed. "Like heaven, but you're sure I'm not putting you out?" "What are old friends for? Beverly will probably be annoyed with me, but I'll pretend I didn't know she was looking for you. The bedroom and bathroom are that way," she pointed. "Feel free to use both. The replicator's in the corner there if you get hungry again." She stood up, and he rose as well, reaching out to catch her hand. "Thank you, I know you've no reason to trust me, not after all this time. I appreciate it more than I can say." She gazed at him for a long moment, then her eyelids hid her all-too- expressive eyes from him. "The fact that you once risked your life to save mine might have some bearing on the matter. I'll see you in a few hours." 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 hadn't had a bath in days, and he'd 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 moment's 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 hadn't realized she'd 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 she'd fought the urge to go check on him. She'd finally given in, realizing it was in part simply the need to make sure she hadn't 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. He'd probably never seen her without her head covered before. Very few people aboard the ship ever had. She looked down at herself, and realized she'd been hiding behind her clothes as well. She hadn't denied herself lovely colors or textures, but she had chosen styles as androgenous as a J'naii's. 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 didn't 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 Deanna's. 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,' she admonished herself silently. `It's not a good idea.' 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 wasn't going to wake up. Finally reassured, she relaxed, but she didn't 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,' she told herself sternly. `He's off limits. He's a human, he's just a baby, and you're a... ' She stopped suddenly, feeling as if someone had just turned on a light. She was thinking in the past! He wasn't just a baby, he was a good two-hundred years her senior! This wasn't twentieth-century Earth, and she wasn't 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 why she shouldn't indulge herself, should the opportunity arise. 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 wasn't who she wanted to be right now. After a moment's thought she went to the replicator and began to program it. **** Deanna stretched and sighed, wiggling her toes in her uniform boots, wishing she'd changed clothes before coming down to Ten-Forward for dinner. Toes were not meant to be cramped up in boots 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. "Guinan?" 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 wasn't. "What can I do for you?" she asked, still smiling. "Me?" 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. "Don't you usually want something when you come in here? What'll it be?" "Oh, yes. Well, I... Guinan! What have you done?" Guinan laughed. "I needed a change. I was tired of being Our Lady of Ten-Forward." 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. "Now, now, Deanna Troi, you know that's not polite!" Deanna grinned. "It's not, but it works. Who is he?" Guinan grinned back. "A very, very old friend." "One of your people?" "Not... exactly." "I want to meet him!" "You will, I'm sure. In fact, Beverly's probably going to ask you to try to bring him into sickbay for her." Deanna stared at her, puzzled. "Why? Is he ill?" "No, he just doesn't like doctors." "Now that's not true, doctors are fine people, I just don't happen to need one." 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 dark, almost Betazoid 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. "Thalassa?" he asked, looking and sounding as if he'd 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. "Please, stop. I can't-- it hurts!" He stepped back, still looking stunned, and the sensations faded somewhat. She relaxed a little, rubbing her temples. "Thank you, that helps." "You're Betazoid." he said, realization dawning as he looked at her dark-in-dark eyes. "God, I'm sorry! I didn't realize! It's just that you look so much like her! I'm afraid it was kind of a shock." "Her?" Guinan asked, her voice sounding rather odd. "The woman you..." her question trailed off but it was clear he knew what she meant. He nodded. "Yes. Her." The guilt-feelings strengthened and Deanna flinched. Guinan stepped forward and put out her hand, gently touching his arm. "Duncan, you know it wasn't your fault." 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. "I'm 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." "It's all right, you couldn't have known I was an empath, and you were obviously surprised by my appearance. I'm Deanna Troi, I'm the ship's counselor." 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 she'd want to offend was Guinan. "I'm Duncan MacLeod, pilot, formerly of the Darius." As he introduced himself, she realized he was the man they'd rescued from the crashed ship. "You're an old friend of Guinan's?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation to less painful subjects. "What a coincidence that we should be the ones to find you!" "Aye... I didn't even know she was still alive." He exchanged a warmly amused glance with Guinan. "Nor I him." Guinan echoed, that same amusement lacing her tones. "Are you El-Aurian too?" Duncan looked at Guinan again, smiling as if they shared a secret, and slowly shook his head. "No, I'm human, born and raised on Earth." Deanna thought that highly unlikely, but she didn't call him on it. He certainly didn't feel human. He was far too intense. Still, she realized with a start that he hadn't been lying about being born and raised on Earth. Maybe he was half-human, like herself. "So why does Dr. Crusher want to see you?" She's afraid I might have been injured in the crash. I've assured her that I'm fine, but she'd rather see for herself." "That is her job." Deanna pointed out, defending her friend. "It is, but I'm not one of her crew." "True," 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 wouldn't 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. "Would you like to join me? I was about to have dinner." He shook his head. "No, thanks, I've eaten, but I appreciate the offer. Guinan, can I have a word with you?" 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. Guinan's 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. "Mr. MacLeod," Worf rumbled, at his most formal, and most menacing. "You brought weapons aboard this ship without notifying me," MacLeod turned from his conversation with Guinan, clearly surprised. "Weapons?" he echoed blankly. "The transporter logs registered two bladed weapons amongst your belongings." Duncan relaxed visibly. "Oh, the swords! Forgive me, I didn't think to notify you, I didn't realize you would need to know. They're heirlooms, I couldn't leave them on the Darius for salvagers to carry off." That was apparently not the answer Worf had expected. He looked grudgingly mollified, and Deanna was relieved that she wasn't going to have to intervene. "I would like to inspect them." "I would be more than happy to let you see them, if I knew where they were. At the moment, I really don't know where they ended up." "Your personal items were transported directly to your quarters." "I know, but I don't know where that is." "You were not informed of the location of your quarters?" Duncan shook his head and Worf looked annoyed. "Lieutenant Barclay should have familiarized you with them." MacLeod studied Worf, and spoke calmly. "Lt. 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." Deanna's appreciation for the man went up. It was very considerate of him to make the effort to keep Barclay out of trouble. It wasn't something many people would have thought of. Worf nodded acknowledgement. "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." MacLeod looked past Deanna to Guinan. "Later?" he queried. She nodded. "I'll find you." 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. "If you will follow me?" MacLeod nodded and followed him out, leaving Guinan and Deanna at the bar. "He seems like an interesting man." Deanna commented mildly. Guinan chuckled. "You don't know the half of it." "Oh? Tell me more?" "Nope, not me. It's not my place to tell. Suffice it to say, there's more to Duncan MacLeod than meets the eye." Deanna made a disgusted face. "Well I could tell that much without your help, Guinan! You're a terrible tease!" She laughed out loud "Guilty. Now, are you ever going to order dinner, or are you fasting tonight?" "Fast? Me?" With a grin, Deanna allowed herself to be distracted. She had less than three 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, she'd have to find out more about him some other way. She wondered what sort of records the Pilot's Guild kept, and if they were accessible to the public. **** 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. "Come." He felt the almost imperceptible alteration in his bearing as he went from being 'man' to `Captain'. Seeing Counselor Troi enter the room, the `Captain' persona relaxed a little, but remained dominant. He started to rise, but she waved him to remain seated, which he did. "Counselor, please, sit down. What may I do for you? Would you care for some tea?" He didn't 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, Troi's shoulders straightened a little and her expression changed to one of decision. "Captain, I hesitate to bother you with this at all, but there's something I think you should know." "Yes, Deanna?" 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. "Have you met our guest, Duncan MacLeod?" He studied her, trying to gauge her level of disquiet. She seemed concerned, but not overly so. "No, I haven't had an opportunity yet, though I have read the away- team's reports and spoken to Commander Riker about him. Is there something that isn't in the reports that you think I should know?" Troi looked down at her hands, then back up at him. "Did the reports mention that he and Guinan are old friends?" A friend of Guinan's? He felt a surge of surprise and curiosity, and just a little trepidation. Guinan had some very interesting old acquaintances; among them the entity `Q', for example. It was enough to make one a bit wary. However, he himself was also an old friend of Guinan's, and Deanna had termed this man a friend. He trusted Guinan's judgement on that score. His reply was careful. "Guinan probably has many old friends, and she has exhibited a rather striking fondness for humans for quite a-- long time." He smiled remembering the first time he and Guinan had met. "That's just it, sir." Troi held his gaze steadily, "He says he's human but he's not human." Picard leaned forward, his eyes intent. "Would you care to elaborate on that?" She shifted uncomfortably. "I can't really. I just know he's not human. I've never met a human who-- feels like he does." He frowned slightly, preferring more solid evidence. "So you're reporting a feeling?" She nodded. "Yes sir. I just thought you ought to know." "Have you discussed this with anyone else?" She looked offended. "No, of course not!" "Have you asked Guinan about him?" "No sir, I-- wasn't entirely sure of her objectivity in this matter." His eyebrows went up. "Now that's an interesting statement. Guinan is one of the most objective people I've ever met. What reason do you have to think that's changed?" "Have you seen her since you got back?" "No, I haven't had an opportunity to go down to Ten-Forward yet." "Go. You'll see what I mean." He sat back and looked at her over steepled fingers. "You have me intrigued, Counselor. Do you think MacLeod is a danger to the ship or crew?" She thought about that for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I don't. He's a very charming man, I don't think he would cause any harm, but the deception bothers me. That, and Worf." That got his attention. "What about Lieutenant Worf?" "It's 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,' and told me he's invited him to participate in a holodeck workout! That's not like Worf!" Picard gazed at her thoughtfully. "I can see why that might concern you, Counselor, but actually, I think it's quite like Worf. Once you've 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 you've not had time to do so yet?" "No, I just saw him for a moment as I was on my way here. I did plan to speak to him about it, though." "Good. Is there anyone else you feel MacLeod has had an undue influence on?" Deanna thought about his question, and slowly nodded. "Yes, actually there is." "Who?" "Lieutenant Barclay, sir." "In what way?" "Well, 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, he's going to study cooking, and organic farming techniques, and has even enrolled in Worf's mok'bara class, because, as he put it, `I want to know what it's like to work hard, physically.' Does that sound like Barclay to you?" He reviewed what she'd told him, and gazed at her, puzzled. "If you'll forgive me, Counselor, those sound like positive developments. It's difficult to consider this man a threat under the circumstances." She sighed. "I know, and I wouldn't even have mentioned it at all, if it weren't for the deception. I just makes me wonder." "I understand, Deanna, and I'll check into it." He stood and stretched, working the kinks out of his back. "I think it's 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 I'm grateful to you for bringing this matter to my attention!" That broke her tension and she smiled. "Anytime, captain." **** 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 Guinan's 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. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Guinan, have you seen her recently?" A quick smile tugged at one corner of the server's mouth. "Yes sir, she's right there." He pointed over Picard's shoulder. Picard turned and looked. He didn't see her. "Where?" "There sir, in the rust and olive." 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 wasn't Guinan. He shook his head. "Perhaps you didn't hear me correctly, I was looking for Guinan." This time the server chuckled. "Yes sir, I know. That's her." Picard looked again, just in time to see the woman turn toward another table. He stared. By God, it was her! But... it wasn't. 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 hadn't changed. "Jean-Luc! Welcome back, it's good to see you! How was your vacation?" "Guinan?" he said, stunned. "Twenty-three." she said, making a wry face. "Excuse me?" "You're 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." "I wouldn't say shocked," Picard began. "I would," Guinan interrupted. "I saw your face." He chuckled. "All right, you have me there. You look lovely." She preened. "Thank you, that's better." "I had no idea you..." he broke off, realizing he was about to put his foot firmly into his mouth. She laughed at him. "You had no idea I cleaned up so well? Just as well you didn't say that." She steered him toward a seat at the bar and took the one opposite him. "How was your trip?" "Boring. How was yours?" "Not. We had a bit of excitement." "So I'm given to understand. I hear he's an old friend of yours." "That he is." She smiled as she answered, and he saw something in her smile he'd never noticed in her before. He found it very appealing, and he found himself wondering why he'd never noticed how attractive she was. Her comment gave him an opening, though, and he was still enough in Captain mode to pursue it. "How old a friend?" he asked lightly. "Older than some, not so old as others," she temporized. "That's not quite the answer I need, Guinan. I hope you'll 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?" Her eyes widened, and she stiffened in obvious offense. "No! Remember, Jean-Luc, `Q' 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 wouldn't warn you about anyone I felt could pose even the slightest threat!" He took her hand. "Guinan, I'm sorry, I don't doubt that, but I thought it was quite possible that you hadn't warned me because I wasn't 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." She looked at him for a long moment, then gave his hand a quick squeeze. "You're forgiven. As for Deanna, I'd be surprised if she wasn't disturbed by Duncan. I find him a bit--" she grinned and winked at him. "...disturbing, myself." 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. "You haven't met him yet, have you? He and Worf went down to Holodeck 4 nearly an hour ago to do `calisthenics,' as Worf likes to call it. Anyway, they ought to be about finished. Why don't you go introduce yourself?" Picard thought about Guinan's unexpected metamorphosis, and Barclay's, and nodded. "I think I shall." She smiled and made her way back toward the bar. He watched her, and became aware that he wasn't 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 he'd 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? He'd 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. "Computer, is this program privacy-secured?" "Negative." "Activate monitor." 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 safety's 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 Worf's grasp and onto the ground several feet away. Even on the tiny screen, Worf's 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 Klingon's 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. "Deactivate monitor," Picard said quietly as the holodeck doors opened. The small screen went black and he stepped back a pace. "You shall show me how that move is accomplished. It is a trick I would like to try," Worf was saying as they stepped from the room. "I'd be happy to, if in exchange you'll instruct me on the finer points of the betleH," MacLeod returned. "It's a formidable weapon." "It 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." 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. "Gentlemen." Picard announced his presence quietly. Worf came instantly to attention, but MacLeod's 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 Picard's 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 Deanna's unease. Starfleet was not really a military organization, even its best-trained fighters would be hard pressed to display that sort of battle-readiness. "Captain, is there a problem?" Worf rumbled, clearly ill at ease at being caught out of uniform, even though he was off-duty. "No, Mr. Worf, no problem." Picard shifted his attention to Worf's companion. "I've read the reports about what happened while I was away, and thought I ought to introduce myself. I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard." He held out his hand, and MacLeod shifted his sword to his left hand and took Picard's hand in a firm clasp. "Duncan MacLeod, sir, late of the Darius. It's a pleasure to meet you. The Enterprise is quite a ship, you must be very proud of her." "I am, I assure you. I understand you're a friend of Guinan's?" "I have that honor." "As do I." "Mr. MacLeod." Beverly Crusher's 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. He'd worn it himself on many occasions. "You, sir, have been avoiding me." The doctor accused, lifting an eyebrow as she waited for a response. "I... have." MacLeod admitted. "Why?" He sighed. "I don't need a physical, Doctor. I'm fine." "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" "I can't." "Why not?" MacLeod looked trapped for a moment, then a tiny smile lifted one corner of his mouth. Picard waited. This should be good. "I'm a Christian Scientist." Beverly looked puzzled. Picard knew exactly how she felt. "A what?" "Christian Scientist. We don't believe in medical intervention. It would be against my religious ethos to allow a doctor to examine me." Beverly's eyes narrowed. "Is that so? Why have I never heard of this sect?" MacLeod shrugged. "Beats me. Go ahead, check it out if you like. Ask your computer." She stared at him a moment, then called his bluff. "All right, I will." She looked up. "Computer? Search databanks for religious group known as Christian Scientists, especially as pertains to their beliefs about medical intervention." Moments later the computer's disembodied voice spoke. "Christian 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." Beverly looked stunned. MacLeod looked smug. Picard had to work very hard not to laugh. He hadn't seen his chief medical officer so neatly stymied in years. After a moment Bev shook her head, a rueful smile curving her mouth. "Well, Mr. MacLeod, you've managed to weasel your way out of an examination, haven't 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!" "I went hungry," he said simply. "It's not the first time, nor, I imagine, will it be the last." She gazed at him thoughtfully. "That's certainly plausible; however, I also discovered that your water stores were contaminated by that coolant leak. You don't mean to tell me you went without liquid for five days as well, do you?" "Not at all." He smiled brilliantly. "I had a case of Laphroig aboard that I was planning to sell. Nothing contaminates a good single-malt." "You..." she sputtered, then rolled her eyes and made a face. "You are a damned slippery character, Duncan MacLeod. Just like your father, from what I hear!" He chuckled. "That I am." Picard stared at his CMO. "Don't tell me you know him too?" Bev turned to him, curious. "Too? Who else knows him?" "He's an old friend of Guinan's." "Oh really? Fascinating! Actually, I just met Mr. MacLeod yesterday, but it turns out that his father was a friend of my grandmother's." Picard studied MacLeod again, thinking it a bit odd that this man had connections to two such vastly different women. But then, perhaps it wasn't 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 wasn't 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. "Mr. 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 you're from Valhalla, and I'd like to satisfy my curiosity about the place. I've heard a lot of fascinating things about it." To his surprise, MacLeod shook his head. "May I take you up on your offer another time? To be honest, it's been a long week, and after that work-out," he nodded toward the holodeck, "what I really want is a few hours sleep." Picard nodded pleasantly, but wanted to make sure he understood that it wasn't exactly a request. "I understand. Perhaps tomorrow night, if that's convenient? If not, we still have several days before reaching Starbase 108." MacLeod gazed at him shrewdly, understanding clear on his face. "I would be honored to dine with you tomorrow night, sir." 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. "Well, Beverly, I hope you'll not turn me down too." She jumped a little, and turned to him, her cheeks a tiny bit flushed. "Is that an invitation?" "It is." "I'd love to, then. Shall we?" She linked her arm through his and they headed for Ten-Forward. **** 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 he'd been around. He'd 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 he'd never yet found what it was he was supposed to do. Deanna Troi's 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 couldn't love an Immortal either. It wasn't allowed, all because of some stupid Game, some mythical Prize! What the hell was it, anyway? After a thousand years, it didn't matter any more. He didn't even believe in it any more. That was the worst of it. He'd 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 couldn't just love each other and live their lives as mortals did. They had to hide, and fight, and kill. Over the years he'd almost managed to convince himself that he didn't 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 couldn't hide it from himself even if he could from others. He hadn't 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 didn't 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 wasn't 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 he'd 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 didn't 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. =========================================================================