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 7 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 7 c. 1995 Kellie Matthews-Simmons & Julia Kosatka 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. "Come." The door opened, and someone stepped into the room. He didn't 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. "What's wrong, Duncan?" the voice was gentle, and concerned. "Hello, Guinan." "I could feel you all the way from Ten-Forward. Do you want to talk?" "Not really." "All right." There was no recrimination in her voice, but she didn't leave. Instead, she moved around the couch and started to sit down next to him. "Wait, careful..." he picked up several shards of broken glass and moved them to the end-table. "There. Safe now." She sat, and took his hand, looking at the dark stains that crossed it. "You should see the doctor." "No need. It's healed." She looked more closely. "So it is. Must be nice." "I used to think so." There was a short silence, then she nodded. "I see." Of all people, she just might see. "How do you do it?" he asked, obliquely. She understood, as he had expected she would. "I just take things a day at a time, and I put up walls to keep people from getting too close. But you know, I didn't realize I was doing that until you came. You kind of... woke me up." "I'm sorry." "No, don't be. I needed it." She looked out at the stars. "Do you remember the talk we had in your apartment, all those years ago?" He remembered it. He remembered everything. "Yes." "I was pretty glib, wasn't I? It's so damned hard not to feel guilty. Even if it had nothing to do with you. And for me, it wasn't just one person, it was my people." That got through. He turned and looked at her, only to find her staring out at the stars just as he had been. "What do you mean?" "You've heard of the Borg, right?" "Who hasn't?" "They destroyed my world, and assimilated my people, all but a handful. I survived because, as usual, I wasn't home. I've 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." "But if you'd been there, you'd have been assimilated too." She sighed. "I know. Sometimes..." "...you wish you had," he finished for her. She nodded, and he continued. "I 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." "I heard, and read, and felt... from the survivors. I wasn't there then, my father said it was too dangerous and wouldn't let me stay, though I thought maybe I could be of some help, somehow." "Your father?" he asked, surprised. "Yeah, you know, male biological parent," she said, smiling. "I--" he laughed, shaking his head. "I guess I thought that since you're like me in other ways, you were like me that way to." "And what way is that?" "No family. No parents. None of my kind have family." She shook her head. "Oh, I have-- I mean, had, family, a lot of it. Parents, brothers, sisters, children... Now it's just me, and sometimes Jahn." "Jahn?" She sighed. "My son. When he claims me, that is." "You have a son?" he asked, stunned, but unable to not ask. She nodded. "I do. Jahn's... oh, two hundred and three now. He'd be the black sheep of the family if we still had a family. I guess I wasn't a very good mother. Not when he needed me to be. Now that I know how, it's too late." she sighed and looked off into the distance. "We ought to be required to have a license to procreate." "But at least you can," 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. "Duncan... you..." "It's not important." he grated out. "But it is. I can feel it. I'm sorry; I didn't know you felt this way or I would have--" "You would have what? Hidden it from me?" he interrupted, angrily, though he was more angry with himself than her. After almost a thousand years he kept thinking he'd dealt with this problem. "No, I can't go through life having people hide their families from me just because I can't have my own." "What about adoption, or fostering?" He closed his eyes, remembering. Kahane. Viola. Michelle. Douglas. In some ways even the Immortals he'd mentored had been substitute children for him. "I tried that. It never worked. I was a hazard to them. I've learned that lesson." "That doesn't make any sense! How can it be dangerous for a child to have a parent who cares about them?" Duncan sighed. "It's 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 can't have children of our own, we're 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, doesn't age, and doesn't die." She reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "I 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?" "Because even now there are those who would use us as research animals, just to find out how we work. We've managed to avoid that so far, we haven't 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?" "Dangerous? How?" "If it could be artificially duplicated, there are those who would do it, and then use their position to enslave those who don't possess the secret." "There's nothing that says a naturally-occurring member of your kind wouldn't do just that," Guinan pointed out reasonably. "Nothing but those of us who won't let them." Duncan said grimly. She gazed at him thoughtfully. "You realize, don't you, that if it could be duplicated, perhaps it could also be... fixed." He laughed humorlessly. "Oh, I've thought of that. Believe me, I have. And despite these periodic fits of depression, I've come to realize that I wouldn't change what I am. I just want to change how I live. I'm so damned tired of being alone, even when I'm not alone. I'm tired of the guilt, and the shame, even though I know it's not really my fault that I'm alive and they're not. It always seems somehow like it must be. I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of not belonging to the world I was born on." She reached out and put her palm against his face. "I know, Duncan. I know. I live with that too." She shook her head. "I have a people without a home, you have a home without a people. We're quite a pair, aren't we?" 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 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. "If only I'd known then what I know now..." she began. Duncan shook his head. "Don't. There's no point in that. What's done is done. We can't change the past, only the future." She sighed. "I know. But it's hard not to think that way. Isn't it strange how things work out? Tell me, something... was Joe Dawson one of you?" Emotions swept him. The pleasure of remembering a good friend, the pain of thinking about how long he'd been gone. It was always this way, remembering mortals. He shook his head. "No, though I always wished he had been. He was a good man, a good friend." "You miss him." "A lot." "I wish I'd had a chance to know him better." Duncan grinned. "So did he." She smiled, shaking her head. "You know, it's 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.' I don't know that I could have stuck to that if I'd stayed around, and I don't know that I could have chosen between the two of you." He lifted an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't do threesomes." "I was young and naive," 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. "Duncan, why is it you seem to think you don't deserve to be happy?" "I was cursed by a Gypsy," he told her, dead serious. "She told me I would never find happiness." She looked at him, smiling a little. "Don't you know that a curse only has power if you believe in it?" He gazed back at her steadily. "Could I be what I am and not believe in magic?" She thought about that for a moment, and finally shook her head ruefully. "I guess you've got a point. Still, don't 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?" He chuckled. "Why didn't I ever think of that?" Her gaze was candid, and so was her reply. "Because you like brooding, Duncan. You're good at it. Byronic to the core." He winced. "Ouch. That hurt." "It was supposed to. Face it, you like being unhappy." "No I don't!" "Then break the cycle. Do something to make yourself happy!" 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. "All right, I will. Stay with me tonight?" She contemplated him for several long moments, then a smile spread over her face, a wide, unforced, joyous smile. "As long as you like," she said finally. "And that will make both of us happy." He felt himself begin to relax for the first time since he'd 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. "It's nice to find someone who really understands," she said quietly. He nodded, his lips brushing her hair. "That it is." **** Sunlight. She wished there were sunlight, the warm, focused, butter- yellow light of Terra's star. Instead there was just the cool, soft glow of the Enterprise's lightpanels. It just wasn't the same. Still, waking up was a pleasant thing this morning, surrounded as she was by the warmth and human comfort of Duncan's 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 wasn't 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. "I could get used to this, Duncan." He chuckled. "Good morning to you too." He stretched. She felt the muscles move beneath his skin, and closed her eyes, savoring the closeness. "Thank you for staying," he said, his voice shaded with meaning. "That's twice in one lifetime." "What is?" "That you've brought me out of the darkness." "We brought each other." "You never seem so far in the dark as I do." "I hide it better," she sighed. "Any idea what time it is?" "None, why?" "I usually have breakfast with Deanna, she'll wonder..." "No she won't," Duncan interrupted, amused. "She's a Betazoid, remember? She'll know why." Guinan felt her skin warm, and shook her head, laughing at herself. "I'm blushing. I don't believe it." He smoothed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, sensing the heat there. "Why?" "I--" she frowned, and finally figured out how to say it. "Because this isn't who I am to these people. They won't understand it." "What's 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." "Oh, that. There was something there, once, but we're just friends now." Duncan shook his head, smiling ruefully. "Just friends. God, how I hate those words. I can't even remember how many times I've said that, when I didn't mean it. It's as easy to lie to yourself with them as it is to others." She shook her head. "He's more than half in love with Beverly Crusher. I won't come between them, it wouldn't be fair. What's past is past." "But what's fair to you?" She turned finally, and looked at him evenly. "You are." He returned her gaze, head tipped slightly to one side as he assessed her words. "I see." She scowled, sensing his withdrawal. "What do you see?" "More than you think I do. I may not be psychic, Guinan, but I've a lot of experience with human nature. You think I'm fair for you because I'll be gone soon." 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. "It's true you'll be leaving soon, and I won't be going with you. We both know that. But now that we know about each other, there's no reason why we can't... keep in touch, is there?" He shook his head, looking intrigued. "No, there's not." "You'll know where I am, I'll know where you are; and I'll be there if you need me." "What of your needs?" She smiled. "It works both ways, right?" He nodded, slowly. "If you want it so. Guinan, I..." A chirp from the door-annunciator interrupted him, and he frowned. "Just a minute, let me see who that is." He rolled out of bed, grabbed his pants and tugged them on as he walked out of the room. She sat up, listening intently. "Come." Duncan's voice was matter of fact. She heard the hiss of the door opening, then Worf's earthquake- rumble voice. "nuHpIn'a' MacLeod, we have practice, do we not?" Her eyes widened. Worf had used a seldom-used Klingon appellation to preface Duncan's 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. "Worf, forgive me friend, I... have company and I'm afraid I overslept. Give me a few minutes and I'll join you on the holodeck." Guinan grinned, clearly visualizing the look on Worf's face. He would feign indifference, while simultaneously being curious who Duncan was with, and disdainful of the loose mating practices of humans. She'd seen him wear that expression before, usually around Will Riker. "I see. I will wait, as you wish." "Thank you." 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. "I'm sorry, I'd forgotten I was to meet him this morning for our workout." He grinned. "You drove all thought right out of my mind." She laughed. "You silver-tongued devil, you! Are you sure you're Scottish, not Irish?" He didn't miss her meaning, and grinned. "I'm sure. Stay if you like. I'll be back in an hour or so." Something began to niggle at her, some dark current of perception eddying just out of sight. She put out her hand. "Duncan, don't go." He paused as he pulled on the padded tunic he wore to spar in, and looked back at her. "Is something wrong?" She tried to focus on the vague unease, and couldn't make it come clearer. Whatever it was, it didn't seem all that serious. It was nothing like the foreboding she had when real danger threatened. Finally she shook her head. "No, nothing really. Just a... feeling." "Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy." She grinned. "I noticed." He laughed and took his katana from its place on the shelf. "Later." She nodded and watched him leave, wondering what was bothering her. No doubt she'd find out in due time. She settled back into the warm hollow where he'd 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 wasn't 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 com unit. "Personal message, Guinan to Deanna Troi, is she available?" "One moment," the machine responded. Seconds later the screen filled with Deanna's face. She was smiling. No, she was grinning, her eyes alight with mischievous humor. "Good morning, Guinan. Did you have a nice night?" "As a matter of fact, I did, but you knew that already." "Not really, though I suspected. I was a little worried when you didn't meet me, but a quick check on your whereabouts told me I didn't need to fret. And I'll have you know that though I was tempted, I refrained from snooping further." "Good girl, I'm proud of you for not succumbing to those Lwaxana impulses." Deanna laughed. "Well, since you missed breakfast, how about lunch? I don't have any appointments after eleven, and I want to hear all about it!" Guinan feigned amazement. "Deanna Troi! I had no idea you were such a voyeur!" "Of course you did! All Betazoids are voyeurs, it's genetic. How about it?" "Oh, all right, but only if you promise not to pry." "Who, me? Pry?" Deanna batted her eyelashes innocently. "Never." "All right then, I'll see you in--" she stopped suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of shock, pain, and darkness closing around her like a suffocating curtain. A presence she'd just begun to get used to vanished soundlessly from her mind, as if someone had flipped a switch. She heard Deanna's moan, and knew she'd felt it too. "Duncan!" she gasped, on her feet and running without even taking the time to close the connection on the com unit. In the corridor she stopped suddenly, confused. Which holodeck had he been going to? He hadn't said, and he wasn't wearing a locator so the computer wouldn't be able to find him easily. Worf was a different matter. She turned to the monitor panel on the wall. "Computer, locate Lieutenant Worf." "Lieutenant Worf is in sickbay." 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 didn't care. She only hoped that what she had sensed was not what she first thought. Worf's 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 "Hold!". The door reversed, opening, and she threw herself into the car, startling the three crewmen already there. "Emergency override, sickbay!" 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. "Are you hurt? Can I help?" 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. "No, Sam, it's not me, I'm just... needed." 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. "Get those stasis fields working, Alyssa!" Crusher was saying, to her nurse. "Damn it, these readings don't make any sense. Worf, get out of my way! T'mer, we're going to have to do a replacement, we'll want to use the Tarvi-2028, it's the only one we've got that will handle someone this size." 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 Worf's 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 Crusher's anguished blue gaze. "Guinan, I'm so sorry. I'm doing everything I can, we've got him in stasis so he won't deteriorate, and we're 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." Guinan took a deep breath, and shook her head. "No, Beverly. Take the stasis fields off. He'll be fine." Bev's eyes widened, and Guinan sensed her dismay quite clearly. "You don't understand, Guinan. He's gone, his heart was damaged beyond repair. Replacement is the only thing that will save him now." Guinan reached out and took Beverly's hands in hers. "I know he's gone, Beverly. I felt it happen. But trust me, I know what I'm saying, and I'm not crazy. It's not necessary." "It is if I'm going to save his life!" "You don't need to save his life, Bev. He would not want you to do this." The doctor drew back as if Guinan had struck her. "Not 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." 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? "Beverly, I have no idea what you're talking about, but I do know that Duncan would not want any kind of intervention. Have you checked for a Med-alert?" "I..." Beverly suddenly looked less sure of herself. "No, I haven't." "Do it." The doctor turned back toward Duncan's still form, and made an adjustment on her tricorder, then scanned him. A moment later she turned to Guinan, her expression stunned. "You're right. He has a `do not resuscitate' order encoded on a biochip implanted in his forearm. I can't believe this! It's insane! Damn it, Guinan, I can save him if you'll let me!" Guinan shook her head. "I can't, Beverly. It will be all right, trust me. Have I ever lied to you? Turn off the stasis units." Beverly started toward the biobed, but was brought up short by a hail on the comm. "Laforge to Crusher." With a sigh, she tapped her badge. "Crusher here, what is it Geordi? I have an emergency situation here!" "I'm sorry, doctor, but I'm registering an unusual power drain which seems to be originating in sickbay." She looked around, her expression blank. "Here? But there's nothing..." her eyes narrowed, and she lifted her tricorder again. "It's the stasis units. They're running at four times normal power levels! No wonder the readings were so odd! But that doesn't make sense... it's like they're fighting something." Guinan put her hand on the doctor's arm, drawing her attention once more. "Beverly, they are. Turn them off." They stood for a moment, gazes locked, then Beverly nodded, and reached over and switched them off. "What the...? The power drain just stopped." Laforge's voice sounded puzzled. Beverly looked equally so. Guinan went over to the bed and took Duncan's 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 he'd told her was the truth. But it had to be. Behind her the sickbay doors opened, and she sensed Deanna and Jean-Luc's 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. "What's going on here, Mr. Worf? Why did you put out a detention order on yourself?" "Captain, I have killed nuHpIn'a' MacLeod. I must be detained." "What?" Picard and Troi spoke almost as one, each one equally stunned. Keeping Duncan's hand in hers, she turned so that she could see the others, and listen to Worf's explanation, though she knew what had happened. "We were sparring, and I was careless. In so doing, I cost a warrior's life. I must be punished." A sudden change pulled Guinan's attention back to Duncan, as beneath her fingers she felt a presence begin to grow. He hadn't 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 didn't 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. "Welcome back." she said softly, putting her hand over his, not caring about the blood. "I'm glad to see you." "I--" he started, then winced. After a moment he managed a weak smile. "I'm glad to see you too, but God... what happened to me? I feel like I've been hit by a truck." "Close. It was a Klingon." He looked puzzled for a moment, then realization flooded his face. "Oh no-- tell me I didn't--" he looked down at himself, and saw the blood, then lifted his head enough to look past her to the stunned faces of the Enterprise's captain, chief medical officer, counselor, and chief of security. "Damn." he muttered as he slumped back onto the biobed with a sigh. "I hate it when this happens." She nodded, smiling a little. He started to sit up and Beverly stepped closer, her hand on his shoulder. "What do you think you're doing? You shouldn't even be alive, much less sitting up!" Duncan let her push him back down on the bed. Guinan moved over to get out of Beverly's way. Duncan's face was a mask of resignation. He'd 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. "It's all right, Mr. MacLeod," Deanna said, obviously sensing his fear as clearly as Guinan did. "Dr. Crusher just wants to make certain that you're all right. She's not going to hurt you." "Not intentionally," he said flatly. Picard spoke quietly, "I can assure you, Mr. MacLeod that we mean you no harm, but you must admit that this incident raises some rather interesting questions." Duncan sighed,"I know it does. Believe me, I know. Also believe me when I say that while I trust you are all good people, I'd rather not answer those interesting questions. I've been burned one too many times," he paused, "literally." "Nevertheless," Picard responded, "we 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." He turned to Worf who was now flanked by two rather bewildered security guards who'd answered the detention order, "Mr. 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 he's ready." Picard turned back to Duncan, "After Dr. Crusher releases you and you've had a chance to clean up, I'd appreciate an opportunity to talk with you about this." Duncan sighed, looking remarkably mulish, "If you insist. It's your ship." Guinan winced a little, anticipating the Captain's response. She was relieved when he made no comment, glad that he'd grown beyond the need for such things. The last thing she wanted was for two of her closest friends to dislike each other. Giving Duncan's hand a gentle squeeze, she released it and went to wait by the door for Picard. Knowing him as she did, she knew he'd want to speak with her about Duncan. Beverly looked up, her face flushed with amazement. "This is incredible! There's 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. You've been pretty hard on your body, Mr. MacLeod." Duncan snorted. "You know what they say... `shit happens.'" They all stared at him blankly, and after a moment he shrugged. "Well, they used to say it" he muttered. Guinan chuckled. "Don't let Data hear that one." "Please," Deanna emphasized, smiling. Picard looked over at the Doctor and caught her eye. "Dr. Crusher, please report as soon as you release Mr. MacLeod." Beverly nodded distractedly, absorbed in her tricorder readings. He turned to Guinan, clearly still amused by that last exchange. "Guinan, I'd like to speak to you." She nodded, and they left the room together. **** 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 wasn't going to like at all. She didn't like it much herself. She wished she'd 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. "Doctor, what have you discovered about our guest? What is he?" "He's... human, mostly, but at the same time, he's not." "Explain." "I can't. It would take months of research, years perhaps, to find out why he is the way he is. I can tell you he's got the most bizarre immune system I've 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. It's as if at some point in his life he was simply frozen in time. I've never seen anything like it." "The fountain of youth." Picard said, drawing from the imagery of mythology. Beverly nodded. "In a manner of speaking. " "How old is he?" "According to the medical scanners, he's around thirty or thirty- five, but according to his DNA mutation patterns, he's approximately that number of generations removed from us." "Thirty generations? That would be... good God! Nine-hundred years?" He frowned. "Could he be a time traveller from the future then, like the `future historian' that Rassmussen impersonated?" Beverly shook her head emphatically. "He can't be from the future, it doesn't work that way. The mutation rate is constant and measurable, like a kind of clock. If he were from the future, I'd be able to tell that as well. Another thing... he has antibodies to disease agents which haven't 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." Picard looked at Guinan questioningly. She shook her head. "I first met him late in the twentieth century, on Earth, but I don't 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... you'll have to ask him." "You're not being very helpful." Jean-Luc said, clearly exasperated. Guinan sighed unhappily. "I know, and I'm sorry. But it's his life, not mine. All I can tell you is that he poses no threat to you, or to this ship." Picard sighed. "I know that you believe that to be the truth, but you must admit, you are prejudiced in this matter." Guinan's posture altered subtly, becoming slightly stiffer, her chin lifting. "Everyone 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." Picard looked puzzled. "In what way could we be a threat to him?" "Ask him." Guinan said intensely. As her challenge hung in the air, Worf's disembodied voice sounded over the com system. "Captain, Mr. MacLeod is waiting for you in the Observation Lounge." "Acknowledged, Mr. Worf. Ask the senior staff to join us, please." "Aye, Captain." Picard gestured for Guinan and Beverly to follow him. "I shall ask him, Guinan, but will he answer?" She shrugged. "Time will tell." **** Duncan slouched in his seat, feeling surly and ill-used. He shot periodic glances toward the two security officers who stood at the doorway. `Escort' 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 didn't give them the satisfaction of turning around. After a moment, he heard a gentle cough. "Duncan?" Guinan's voice. He sighed. He couldn't be rude to her, even if he wanted to be rude to the rest of them. He turned around. "Hello sweetheart, I see the inquisition has arrived." Data, the android lieutenant commander Duncan had heard about but not yet met, cocked his head slightly to one side. "Sweetheart is usually used as an expression of affection. It does not appear to belong in the same sentence as `the inquisition'." "I was talking about two different things. I have a great deal of affection for Guinan, however, I can't say the same for the rest of this nonsense." "I appreciate your frustration, Mr. MacLeod, however I am sure you understand the necessity of the situation," Picard said quietly. "I suppose I do, but I'll be damned if I have to like it!" "Liking it is not a requirement. The truth is." "You won't like the truth." "The truth is often unpleasant, however it is what we deal in." "`Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,' 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." Picard leaned forward, his expression thoughtful as he steepled his fingers. "I can't say that I've 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." Duncan looked around the room, from face to face, each person in turn. He lifted an eyebrow. "You're telling me that seven people can be counted on to never reveal my secrets to anyone else?" He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. "Tell me another one." Picard stiffened visibly. "Mr. 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." Duncan looked into Picard's eyes, and found honesty as well as anger in his steady gaze. He shook his head. "I have no doubt about their integrity, I just know human nature. You don't get to be..." he paused, considering. He might as well tell them, it was all going to come out anyway. "You don't get to be nearly a thousand years old without becoming something of an expert on the subject." Picard didn't respond for a moment, but LaForge did. "Are you telling us that you were born in the fourteenth century?" His voice held clear disbelief. Duncan smiled. "No, actually in the sixteenth. I have a couple of hundred years to go before I hit the big one-zero-zero-zero." Geordie started to laugh, then he looked at Guinan. His smile faded and he looked to Picard, then his gaze swept the others. "You're serious!" Duncan nodded. "All too." Beverly's face took on an expression of awestruck amazement. "Eight hundred years? After the tests I ran I can see that it's possible, for you, but I don't understand it! It must be some sort of mutation. Tell me, were your parents unusually long-lived?" "We have no parents. We are always foundlings." The look of shock on Beverly Crusher's face was priceless. "We?" she squeaked, clearly stunned. "There are more of you?" "Quite a few. That's part of why I didn't 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." "What risk?" Worf asked. "I see no risk in the truth." Duncan looked at the Klingon, but before he could speak, Picard did so. "I think I understand. You said it earlier. You've been burned too many times. Witch hunts, persecutions, pogroms." Duncan nodded. "Not to mention experimentation. Doctor Crusher isn't 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 Singh's records. He had six of us, none survived the experiments." He paused a moment, trying not to remember the nature of those experiments, and their results. He'd lost good friends there. "Duncan?" Guinan said his name softly, drawing him back to the present. Her gaze was warm and concerned. He sighed. "Sorry. Sometimes the remembering is too much. I get so tired of losing friends." He looked at Picard, "Can you see my dilemma?" Picard nodded. "I 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." Duncan realized he was going to have to play his ace. "I can't prove otherwise, I'd be a liar if I were to try. But there's no need to inform Star Fleet, Captain. They know. If you want confirmation, contact Admiral Tamar Dawson. I'd appreciate it if you would do so on a secure channel, of course, but she'll confirm what I've told you." "Admiral Dawson?" Picard said, clearly surprised. "Admiral Dawson?" Guinan echoed, with a slightly different emphasis. Duncan looked at her and nodded, grinning. "Joe finally found a woman who'd put up with him. Delphia reminded me a bit of you." He paused a moment, and winked. "Though nowhere near as intriguing, of course." She chuckled. "Good save. I want details," she looked around, as if just realizing they weren't alone. "Later." He nodded, smiling a little at her obvious discomfort. "Later." Picard cleared his throat. "I 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." 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 wouldn't be quite so shrewd. He should have known better. "I didn't say all of Star Fleet knew. Our presence is known only to a select few." "Who does the selecting?" 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 control' as he'd once put it. He hoped Tamar would forgive him for this. "There's an organization who keeps track of us. They're called Watchers. Members of Admiral Dawson's family have been Watchers for centuries." "Watchers? This gets more and more convoluted. Now not only are there... what do you call yourselves?" Riker asked. "Immortals, though it's somewhat of a misnomer. We can be killed. And no, I'm not going to tell you how." He grinned. "I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid." That drew a chuckle from his inquisitors before Riker continued. "So we have Immortals and Watchers. Pretty damned convenient if you ask me." "Not if you're an Immortal. It can be a damned nuisance. Actually, it's not always a picnic for the Watchers, either. My co-pilot was my Watcher, and it didn't turn out to be a great job for him." Riker's eyes narrowed. "Did you kill him?" For a moment Duncan was too stunned to speak. When he finally did, it was with outrage. "No, I didn't kill him, damn it! Jeremy Dikembe was my friend! I don't kill innocents!" "So who do you kill?" Picard asked quietly. "You're a trained swordsman, a fighter good enough to disarm a Klingon warrior. I get the impression you don't fight for fun." "I fight only when necessary. I fight to save my life, or someone else's," he looked at Guinan. She nodded acknowledgement. "You fight with a sword?" Data asked. At Duncan's nod, he continued. "That seems rather anachronistic." Duncan laughed drily. "You don't know the half of it. Suffice it to say our battles are rather... traditional." "Ah, ritual combat!" Worf said approvingly. "Exactly," Duncan agreed. "We have some pretty strict rules." "Would sabotaging a ship fall within those rules?" LaForge asked suddenly. Duncan turned sharply to look at the engineer, noticing that everyone else had done the same thing. "Sabotage?" Duncan asked. "What are you talking about?" "I'm 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. You're lucky you weren't killed outright." He stopped, and looked a bit sheepish. "I mean, well, you know what I meant." Duncan stared at him. "Deliberate? Someone deliberately caused those malfunctions?" Cold fury suffused him. "That's 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. There's no reason for anyone to do such a thing!" "What about you? Could someone have wanted to harm you?" Deanna asked. "It makes no sense. The only people who might want to harm me also know that I would survive a crash, no matter what." Guinan leaned forward intently. "Maybe that's it. If someone knew you'd 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." 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? He'd been out of circulation for a long time, he didn't think anyone knew where he was, not even his friends. "It could have been," he said finally. "I won't say I have no enemies, and you're right about expediency. Some of us don't 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." Picard looked at Data. "Commander, how far off-schedule would a detour to Valhalla put us?" "It will take an additional sixteen hours and twenty eight minutes, sir. I could give you the seconds if you..." "No, thank you Data," Picard said hastily. "We don't have to be at Ursa Prime for a week," Riker put in. "In 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 `lift' to Valhalla, since it will not compromise our schedule. Besides," he smiled, "they have riding stables on Valhalla, do they not?" Duncan looked at him, puzzled not only by his question, but by this unlooked-for aid. He'd expected them to revile him, not offer to help! "They do, why?" A ripple of laughter circled the room. Deanna Troi grinned and took pity on his obvious confusion. "The captain has a saddle he'd like to get out of storage." Picard grinned. "Perhaps this time I'll actually get to use it for riding." The captain was obviously a horseman. That explained part of it, but not all of it. Before he could ask, Picard spoke again. "I think we're 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?" "I would, thank you sir." Picard nodded and the group began to disperse. As he stood, Duncan leaned toward Guinan. "I don't understand," he said softly, so only she could hear. "Why are they helping me? I thought I was in for the inquisition, not..." he spread his hands, unable to come up with an appropriate description, "...this." She smiled. "They're good people, Duncan; fair people. They've been through things you can't even imagine, and to be honest, compared to a lot of what they've experienced, you barely even raise a flicker on the odd-meter. They will judge you on your actions, no more, no less. If you're honest with them and treat them with respect, they'll do the same for you." He snorted. "Honest and respectful? What am I, a boy scout?" She laughed. "I've heard almost those exact words from Jean-Luc on more than one occasion. You two are a lot alike. It wouldn't hurt either of you to loosen up now and then." "What? In public?" Duncan asked in mock-dismay, then spoiled it by smiling. "I still can't believe this." "Mr. MacLeod?" Picard said, drawing his attention. Duncan looked up to find the Captain watching him intently. "Yes?" "I will expect a few more answers over dinner." Duncan nodded somberly. "You'll have whatever I can give." Picard nodded back. "Good." **** =========================================================================