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 8 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 8 c. 1995 Kellie Matthews-Simmons & Julia Kosatka "Now, that is what I call dinner." Duncan drank the last of his wine and sighed, "I can almost imagine being back in Paris, just around the same time I met you, Guinan." He smiled at his host, "A few months before she and I met, I'd been living on a barge across from Notre Dame. A friend of mine ran a little restaurant not far from there and he would have killed for this recipe, Captain. Thank you, for helping bring back a few good memories." "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Picard picked up the wine bottle and refilled Duncan's glass at his guest's nod. "Guinan?" "No, thank you, I think I've had enough for one night." Both men smiled and Picard continued, "It is one of many recipes that have been in my family for generations and it's always something of an adventure to see what the replicators will do to them." Guinan put down her fork and leaned back in her chair, satisfied, "This time, it seems the recipe came away unscathed. I applaud your ancestors, not only for creating it in the first place, but for having the good sense to hang onto it." "It's a pleasure to have someone else who appreciates real food to try them on. I fear that most people's palates have been ruined by years of eating synthetics." Picard pushed his chair back and gestured toward the living area, "Shall we?" Picard stepped aside to let Guinan and Duncan precede him into the living room portion of his quarters. He rarely entertained strangers in his sanctuary but MacLeod was different. Guinan's red and gold finery was testament to just how different. In all the years he'd known her he'd never seen her so seemingly carefree and happy. It's as if encountering MacLeod again stripped away the centuries and she'd begun to resemble the young woman he'd met in 19th century San Francisco. Picard hung back a moment, ostensibly to clear the dinner table, but it also gave the two of them an opportunity to speak privately. Dinner conversation had centered on Duncan. He'd touched on many of the high points of his more than eight hundred years, speaking of the personal side of historic events and where he was when momentous things happened. Picard still had difficulty accepting that the man admiring his small art collection had seen live broadcasts of Neil Armstrong walking on the moon. He wished he had years to talk with this man, but he really had only this evening and couldn't afford to indulge his historic curiosity much more. There were other topics to be covered. The relaxed atmosphere could not be allowed to interfere with the purpose of the gathering. Picard had questions that only MacLeod could answer. "Captain?" MacLeod gestured to the shelves before him. "This is a most impressive collection." Reaching out to lightly touch the shelf near one piece, Duncan continued, "Ixmaili, isn't it? Third cycle?" "Fourth, actually. You are interested in archeology?" Picard joined his guests at the shelves. "You might say I have a vested interest in antiquities." Guinan rolled her eyes at his comment and shaking her head, moved over to sit on the sofa. Duncan smiled at her reaction. "I used to deal in art and antiques. I've found that it's an interest that has stayed with me." His eyes fell on a small bronze statue of a nude human male. "This is Taylor's 'Prospero' isn't it? I remember attending one of her shows." "You knew Rena Taylor?" Picard began to wonder if the human woman had been born whom MacLeod didn't know. "No, unfortunately, we never met, but it wasn't from lack of trying on my part." Picard smiled at Duncan's expression, "I... discovered her work a few years ago. The original of this statue is in the North American Museum on Earth." Gesturing to include many of the pieces in his quarters he continued, "Replicators many not always do justice to fine food, but they do have their uses." "How true, and buying stock in MMS Enterprises is one of the smartest things I ever did." MacLeod drifted over to where Guinan was sitting. Picard nodded, his face taking on a more serious expression, "I can see where virtual immortality would have its advantages." He paused to sip his wine, "Wealth, property... power, all would be fairly easy to acquire for someone who could make plans in terms of centuries instead of decades." Picard sat down opposite MacLeod and Guinan. "It must provide quite a temptation." MacLeod's eyes flashed for a moment and Picard realized he'd hit a nerve. "Not to me, it isn't," he said flatly. "Come, Mr. MacLeod," Picard said, leaning back in his chair, "do you expect me to believe that you've never sought to acquire wealth and power? What of your investment in MMS Enterprises? Surely you didn't invest in replicator technology expecting to lose money?" Guinan settled into her seat reminding Picard of someone watching a play, or a fencing match. "Of course not, that would be ridiculous, but not to the extent you imply! Captain, think of what you're suggesting." MacLeod rose and began to pace. "Wealth of the type you're implying attracts attention and that's the one thing that we can't afford. There was a time when all one of us had to do was move on to another village, another continent and start over." Of course not, that would be ridiculous, but not to the extent you imply! Captain, think of what you're suggesting." MacLeod rose and began to pace. "Wealth of the type you're implying attracts attention and that's the one thing that we can't afford. There was a time when all one of us had to do was move on to another village, another continent and start over." MacLeod stood looking out at the passing stars, seeming to speak only to them. "Technology began making that harder and harder. You have to plan decades in advance. You need three or four identities to fall back on and all the time watching your... your back." MacLeod turned back to face Picard, his eyes dark and brooding, "As for power, it comes in many guises. You can't understand the kind of power we deal in." He looked into the dregs of his wine and continued more to himself than to the others in the room, "I'm not even sure I understand it." Picard used all of his training to retain his outward calm. He didn't need to be an empath to see that his guest was deeply troubled. In his fascination with the man as living history he'd nearly forgotten the human element, and he was beginning to believe that no matter what else MacLeod was, he was very human. Still, he mustn't let the man's obvious pain distract him. He needed answers and he needed them now. "Have you spoken with Admiral Dawson yet?" MacLeod asked as he sat back down next to Guinan, seeming to drawn some measure of strength from her. "I spoke with her, and she confirmed that you are no threat to my ship or the Federation. That is, however, all she said." Picard let a little of his irritation at that non-productive conversation show. Mysteries between the pages of a book were all well and good, but he despised them on his ship. "Captain, you have the assurances of Guinan, whom you trust and of a Starfleet admiral. What more can I add? Isn't that enough?" MacLeod seemed to have lost much of his earlier animation, his dark eyes seemed to look out from a much darker place, but his words sparked the fury Picard had not felt able to show to the Admiral when she, too had thwarted his quest for knowledge. "No, sir! It is not good enough!" All but slamming his glass down on the side table, Picard radiated the anger and indignation that his youthful temper had evolved into. "What can you add? How about when did your people first appear? How many are you? What of those who don't have the trust of Starfleet admirals? What of those of you who don't have any compunction against plotting for power? I need answers!" "All right!" MacLeod was on his feet again, anger in every line of his body, "Some of us are power-hungry and vicious! But you know what? We're no worse than you mortals! Maybe we're better! Has that occurred to you? Caligula, Hitler, Khan Singh, they were mortals! At least most of us limit our depravities to ourselves!" Picard could almost see the tension run out of the man as he spent his anger and again, that all-encompassing sadness began to creep back in. MacLeod sighed and continued quietly as he resumed his seat, "Captain, for the main, we are not builders or makers. That is your gift. You are the empire builders, the artists, the thinkers. We create nothing." He closed his eyes for a moment, "Some of us are evil, but they merely serve to concentrate it in themselves. Can you tell me there are no evil humans?" Silence settled between them for a moment as Picard considered MacLeod's words. He'd often thought that if only he could live long enough that he could finally find that spark of talent that would let him paint masterworks, or finally get the time to write all the poetry he felt he had in him. What an incredible irony that those who had the time didn't have the ability, or at least didn't think they did. Light laughter roused Picard from his reverie. Both he and MacLeod turned to Guinan. "Well? Would you care to let us in on the joke, Guinan?" Picard found himself somewhat relieved that the mood had been broken. "I was just thinking how much alike you two are. I do seem to always gravitate to type." Picard just managed to keep his jaw from dropping, but he felt warmth creep into his face and fervently hoped he wasn't blushing. Guinan's absurd comment had what he supposed was the desired effect on MacLeod as well since his brooding expression had been replaced by a small, but genuine smile. "Gentlemen, shall we cut to the chase?" Apparently, Guinan intended to make the most of the current change in atmosphere. "I suspect, Jean-Luc, that no immortal can answer many of your questions. Even they don't know their origins, or numbers." At MacLeod's nod she continued, "If someone does decide to investigate those matters, and it's during your lifetime, I doubt that anyone would object to you being informed of them. After all, you already know of Immortals and the Watchers and you are also a trustworthy person." Picard watched MacLeod's face carefully and the change there did more to convince him than anything that had been said throughout the evening. MacLeod really couldn't answer and looked interested in being able to someday provide the information. "Captain, I can give you a promise." MacLeod leaned forward earnestly. "If I ever have reason to believe that one of us poses a threat to any Federation ship, colony or personnel, I'll notify someone immediately. Either a local Federation official, Admiral Dawson or you. I have no desire to see innocents hurt." Picard nodded, more to himself than to MacLeod, "All right. I will accept that, if I must... and it seems that I must. I'm still not entirely satisfied with this matter, but I can see that I need to take it up again with Admiral Dawson." MacLeod rose, and offered his hand to Guinan. "It's late, Captain, and perhaps we should end this evening before we find ourselves at each other's throats again." His quiet smile echoed some of Picard's feelings as well. He had no desire to alienate the man before him. Indeed, he wished he had more time to spend with him, to talk with him about all the things that they had in common. Here was a man he could easily call friend, and he hated what he'd felt compelled to do this evening. "You're quite right, Mr. MacLeod, it is late. Perhaps we can get together again before we leave." Picard's smile widened as MacLeod's eyes narrowed obviously not relishing another grilling, "Just to talk, Mr. MacLeod, just to talk." After a few more comments about getting together again and exchanging goodnights, MacLeod and Guinan left. Picard picked up his wine glass and poured the last of the bottle into it. Sitting alone in his quarters he let his mind roam over the evening and finished his wine. With a sigh, he rose and collected his guests glasses. After finishing at the processor, he headed for his bedroom. The statue of Prospero that had caught the Immortal's eye sat as always on its shelf and he wondered idly what would have happened had MacLeod ever managed to meet Rena Taylor. He rather suspected his Prospero might have a matching Prince of Denmark. The thought brought a smile to his face and with that he continued his way to bed, touching the light panel on his way out, plunging the room into starlight. **** "Can I walk you back to your quarters?" Duncan asked as they left Picard's stateroom. Guinan looked at him thoughtfully, then shook her head. "No, I have a better idea. Come with me." "I'm not really up for a crowd," he told her honestly, thinking she planned to take him to Ten-Forward to the party she had mentioned earlier. "Good, neither am I. Come on, I think you'll like it." Intrigued, he followed her as she led him to the turbolift and down two decks. "Where are we going?" he asked, finally. "You'll see," she said cryptically. He let her keep her secret, and she led him to what he recognized as a holodeck, and stopped outside. "Don't look," she said as she began to key in her request on the access padd. He stared obligingly at the ceiling until she was finished. "Okay, now close your eyes." "Is that different from not looking?" he asked, amused, complying. "Quite," her voice sounded amused too. He felt her fingers lace through his. "Come on." The holodeck door slid open noisily, and as she led him inside he used other senses to gather information about what she was up to. He heard the low murmur of voices, and the clink of glassware. He smelled alcohol and... cigarettes? It took him a moment to identify it, since it had been so many years since he'd smelled that scent. No one smoked anymore. Some of these holo programs were amazingly detailed. She steered him through the room in a chaotic pattern, and finally put her hands on his hips and guided him down. "Sit here, and watch your knees, there's a table." He sat. The chair felt like a wooden one, no cushion, dowel- backed. He reached out and felt the irregular surface of a wooden table under his fingers. "Guinan... what?" "Shhh, just wait. I'll be right back" He waited, resisting the temptation to open his eyes. A moment later she returned and closed his fingers around a glass. He lifted it and sniffed, smelling the familiar smoky tang of a good single-malt. He grinned. "You know me." "What else would you drink?" He laughed and took a sip. It was good, very good... and very recognizable. "This is my Laphroaig, isn't it?" "Guilty, I got it from your cabin." "Thief," he said, good-naturedly. "It helps the atmosphere, though." "What atmosphere? Can I look?" "In a minute." A noise louder than the others began, the blurred tones of an amplified guitar. Someone was tuning up. He waited, and the first notes of a blues riff sounded, clear and dazzlingly familiar. "Guinan... that's..." The singer started, a man's voice, husky and soulful. He couldn't stand it any more. He opened his eyes, and confirmed his suspicion. "Joe!" Her hands closed on his shoulders, massaging lightly. "This is where I come when I want to get away." "You programmed this?" "Years ago. I love this place." "Am I here?" "Of course you are. It wouldn't be Joe's without you." He was disconcerted, and flattered. "This is weird." She laughed. "What's the matter? Don't you like being a fantasy?" "Umm.... you know, that really sounds like Joe." She smiled, letting him know she'd noticed his change of subject. "That's because it is. I had some tapes of his I brought back with me. Danny gave 'em to me, back before I even met you guys. I didn't realize who it was until later. I've transferred these songs to every media you can possibly imagine. It's one of the few things I've kept." He gazed at her, troubled. "You know, that's been bothering me ever since I came aboard. Why don't you have more things? I'm a certifiable packrat... Picard's the same, and he's only a few decades old. Most immortals are like me, tons of stuff, stored in various places. But not you, you have nothing. It's as if your past doesn't exist." She stared over his head toward the figure playing alone on the stage, a single spotlight picking out the silver streaks in his hair, highlighting the smooth curve of bicep and forearm where they moved over the guitar. "Maybe thats what I wanted." He waited for her to elaborate, but when she spoke it was on a different topic. "You said he married? What was she like?" He grinned. "Delphia? Like I said, she was like you. A lot like you. I never mentioned it to her, I figured that was Joe's business. They were an interesting couple. Very passionate, about everything. Half the time they fought like cats and dogs, the rest of the time you couldn't separate them with a stick. They had three kids. Tamar Dawson is his great-great-great-great granddaughter. Strong character runs in the family. She's the third Star Fleet officer in the bunch." "I'd believe that. Joe wasn't exactly a slouch in that department himself. I'm glad things worked out, I always hoped he was happy. I always felt guilty about the way I left." "Why did you leave that way?" She sat down next to him, picked up his glass and downed the remaining liquor before she turned to face him fully. "I was afraid." "Of us?" Duncan was taken aback. She laughed. "Maybe a little... of what I might do if I didn't get out of there. But mostly I was afraid they'd find out what I was. You have no idea what Earth goverments of the time were doing to people like me." He laughed humorlessly. "Oh yes I do, believe me. I was damned lucky that Mulder didn't turn me in. I still don't quite know why he didn't. He knew what I was. I even think he believed what I am." "What about her?" "Her?" he asked, puzzled. "The woman... Scully. She was interested in you." He snorted. "Oh, right. Like I was going to start seeing an FBI agent? Besides... I'd sworn off doctors. At that point in my life I wouldn't have touched her with a ten-foot pole." Guinan smiled oddly. "It's funny, as I was leaving that night, I remember thinking that you'd be better off with her, because her lifespan was more like your own." He laughed, shaking his head. "`Lord what fools..." "...we immortals be?'" she finished with a chuckle. "Willie would be rolling in his grave." "No, he wouldn't. He'd love it." Her eyebrows went up. "Shakespeare?" He grinned. "I'm not telling. Hush now, let's listen. I haven't heard really good blues in a long time." They sat quietly until `Joe' finished his set and went back to the bar. Duncan watched him, his thoughts fixed in the past. After a moment, he looked up at Guinan again. "Thanks for this, it's a wonderful gift. I wish I had something for you." "You've already given me a gift, Duncan. That's why I wanted to do this." She was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. "I'll miss you when you go." He studied her, hearing what was unsaid as well as what was said. "You have to stay here, don't you?" She nodded. "I do. For now, anyway. And you have to go, don't you?" He nodded. "You know I do. But I'll make sure you can find me. If I can, I'll stay on Valhalla awhile. I like it there. I feel at home there." "I'd like to see it through your eyes, and we should have time tomorrow. The captain has scheduled exchange tours so the colonists can see the ship, and the crew can get some fresh air." "What about our saboteur?" "What about him?" "I won't put you in danger." She sighed. "Life's dangerous, Duncan. I can't spend mine afraid to do anything. I want to do this, let me. I want to see see your world." He considered it a minute, then nodded. "All right then, tomorrow I'll show you around my home. Better bring a cloak, it's chilly this time of year." "We can find ways to keep warm," she said suggestively. He grinned. "We might just, at that." **** They stood on the hillside overlooking Glenfinnan, it was perhaps a mile down the hill to the village. It was chill and windy, and Duncan noticed Guinan drawing her heavy cloak tighter around herself. His own cloak was open, furling in the wind, his hair blowing wild around his face. She shivered "How do you stand it?" "Stand what?" "The wind under your kilt." He grinned. "I'm a Celt. We're hot-blooded." She laughed, and turned, surveying the landscape. He loved this world. It suited him. He fit here, like a part of the landscape. Duncan looked down at the cluster of buildings below, and smiled. "They've done a good job. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was back home, in the Highlands, five or six hundred years ago. It looks just as I remember it." "It's beautiful." She didn't lie. Valhalla was beautiful, in a worn, weathered, harsh kind of way. "Isn't it hard for you to be here?" He turned to her curiously. "Why should it be?" "I thought it might remind you too much of your past, of things perhaps better left unremembered." He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, his eyes once more focused on the distant cluster of dwellings. After a moment he shook his head. "It's a rare day that goes by without something reminding me of an event that, as you say, is perhaps better left unremembered. It's a hazard of living this long, I think. There are times when the regrets seem to outweigh the satisfactions, but I'm learning how not to resist the memories when they come. It's better just to let them happen, let them flow through me, instead of resisting and letting them knock me down." In the distance, a bell began to toll, the sound shivering through the air with almost crystal clarity. His smile widened. "Watch the door of the school. This is always fun." She followed his gaze and waited. The door of the building in question opened, and small figures began to pour out. The sound of distant shrieks and laughter was carried on the breeze. The children ran and tumbled like water in a brook. After a moment taller figures began to emerge from other buildings to herd children away from the school. Parents, retrieving their children at the end of the day. He felt the usual stab of jealousy at the sight. Perhaps it was masochistic to stand here and watch them, but he felt somehow compelled to do so. "If it's fun, why does it hurt?" Guinan asked quietly. He focused on her, surprised for a moment, before he remembered what she was. He shook his head. "Sometimes I forget you're empathic. Sorry." "Why should you be sorry for having feelings, Duncan?" He smiled ruefully. "Because envy is such an evil emotion to have. I shouldn't inflict it on others." "Envy? That's not what I felt." "But it is. I envy them. I know I'm not meant to have children, I know it here," he tapped his forehead, "but somehow that makes me want them all the more. I'm like a mule, chasing after the proverbial carrot on a string," he laughed dryly. "In fact, mule is all too apt a simile, in more ways than one." She looked like she was controlling the urge to smile as she replied. "Why? Because you're being an ass?" She chuckled at his startled expression. "Excuse me?" he said warily. She sobered. "It seems to me that this is tearing you apart, and it's needless. Duncan, if you want kids, do something about it! You told me yourself that most of the other Immortals think you're dead, you haven't had a confrontation with one in years. What would be the harm in trying again?" He shook his head. "Even if I could trust that they would be safe, there's still the fact that I'm not normal. I've seen it happen to others, I've seen it happen to me. Kids need normalcy. I don't age, I would stay the same as they grew old. How could they handle that?" Guinan looked at him for a long, silent moment, then she smiled oddly. "Well you know, Duncan, you'll never know unless you try." Her words made him remember. Anne, Paris, four hundred years in the past, but he remembered it as if it had happened today. They were standing in a hospital corridor. He had won his fight with Daimler, Anne had seen it all, right down to his collapse after the Quickening had ended. He'd taken her to the hospital to make sure her fall had not harmed her or the child she carried. The child she had said she wanted him to be a father to. He'd allowed himself to dream again, then she'd killed the dream. In his mind's eye he heard himself as they left the hospital. "For a moment I thought we were going to lose her. He did tell you it was a girl?" His voice had reflected the excitement he felt. He had envisioned himself caring for the baby, then the child... the young woman. The fantasy had delighted him. Anne's response had been surprisingly terse, considering the good news. "Yes, he did. Duncan, I want to go home." "The car is right outside." "No, I want to go home." Ah. He understood. She wanted to leave Paris, and go back to the States. He'd nodded. "We'll go together." That was when she'd done it. She'd shaken her head, and said "No. I think I have to go alone." "Alone..." He'd turned away then, so she couldn't see the pain on his face, couldn't see what her words had done to him. "Whatever you want. I understand." "Do you?" "Yes. You almost lost the baby." He knew that wasn't the only reason, but he'd been trying to save himself the deeper hurt of hearing her say it. She hadn't taken the hint. "It's more that just that, Duncan." He had lashed out then, frustrated, hurt, and angry. "You knew what I was, you knew what my life was like! What was I supposed to do? Let him walk away?" "No, you had to kill him. Duncan, I understand. I wanted you to kill him! At the time I would have taken his head myself!" Not hearing her, he had gone on defending himself. "He killed Bernard. He would have killed you." Anne's voice had gentled slightly then, as if she'd finally begun to realize what effect her decision was having on him. "I understand, but I can't live my life like this, Duncan! I thought I could, but I can't! Duncan, I'm a doctor, I save lives, I don't take them! I can't start wanting to take them!" He felt the cold fog of despair closing around him again, felt yet another chance at normalcy slipping away, but he understood what she was saying, and couldn't argue. He nodded curtly, unable to trust his voice. "Duncan?" Her uncertainty had called to him, and he'd turned, embracing her, letting her think it was all right, even though it wasn't. That had been the last time he'd dared to let himself hope. Never again. He'd tried so damned hard, he'd been so honest, laid himself bare, and she'd ripped his heart out. Not maliciously, but just as painfully. He lifted his head and looked at the dark face regarding him seriously. "Guinan, I have tried. Time after time. And every time I've tried, it's been taken away from me. I finally gave up. Only a fool comes back for that treatment time after time, and though I may not be a genius, I'm not a fool either. Immortals are just not meant to have families. We're not meant to love. It's not part of our destiny." She put her hand on his arm, and looked up at him, her dark eyes sympathetic. "I know that feeling, but I also know it's not true. You're as deserving of love as anyone, more than many. You're one of those truly rare people who give more than they take. Why should you be denied the one thing you truly desire?" He looked away from her with a sigh of defeat. "Haven't you heard a word I've said? It's just not meant to be." Her hand tightened on his arm, and she shook him slightly, like a mother dog might shake an errant puppy. "Don't give me that `fate' crap, Duncan MacLeod! You know as well as I do that your destiny is governed by free will, not three old women with a ball of string and some scissors. Make it happen! Take control of it!" She was angry. It was the first time since he'd met her again that he'd really seen her angry. But it didn't help. "I can't do that to a child, Guinan! Or maybe more honestly I can't do it to me. It's as much dread of them coming to hate and fear my difference that keeps me from it, as it is fear that they might take some kind of psychological damage." He gave her the truth. The fear that lay at the core of everything he'd told her so far. He had been different all his life, and knew what difference inspires. Fear. If he tried to parent Human children, they would come to resent him, possibly even to fear him. He saw the truth dawn in her eyes, saw her accept it, and her face held such sympathy that it hurt. He turned away from it until she spoke, her voice gentle and quiet. "I think perhaps you were just born on the wrong planet, Duncan." He eyed her, puzzled. "What do you mean?" Her smile widened. "I know at least a dozen kids who'd love to find a parent who lives as long as you will. In fact, I could have used a hand with one of those myself." He went still, not quite trusting that he'd understood. "What are you saying?" "My people's lives are long. Not as long as yours, perhaps, but does that matter. Most of those who were left behind by the Borg were babies, too young to be really useful to them and thus discarded. We're a slow-maturing race, and those babies are children now. Some have gone to homes on Earth, or Betazed, or Vulcan, but there are others still waiting for a place to belong, for someone who will take them for what they are. You're more like us than any of the other Federation sentients. You'd do well with our children and you wouldn't have to hide what you are, because to them it would seem perfectly normal." He stared at her, her words slowly sinking in. They made sense. A chance, perhaps finally, the right one. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again, looking around as a sense of presence began to manifest. It felt peculiar, though, muted and amorphous. Guinan stiffened, and looked around too, her expression a study in distaste. "What is that? I've felt that before!" The presence finally solidified, and Duncan pushed Guinan behind him, facing up the hill, waiting for whoever it was to make themselves known. Guinan stepped out from behind him, looking annoyed. "I'm a big girl Duncan, I don't need you to play knight in shining armor!" "Guinan, someone's here for me. You don't need to be involved in this." "How do you know?" "I can sense when another immortal is near. I feel a... presence, a warning sign. I feel that now, but they've come for me, not you." "How did they find you?" "How do you think they found me? It has to be the same person who sabotaged the Darius. They knew I'd come here. They..." He stopped, eyes narrowing as a figure moved into sight over the rocks that had hidden him from view. There was something familiar about him. Something all too familiar. A shudder rattled him to the core. "Dane." "Hello MacLeod, it's been a long time." Dane's cold, blue-white gaze ranged over to Guinan, and his eyes widened. "You! But you're a mortal!" He studied her intently, moving toward her. Duncan moved with him, interposing his own body between Dane and Guinan. "Now this is interesting. How can you, a mortal, still be alive so many years later? Could it be that perhaps you're not a mortal?" He shifted his gaze to Duncan again, a knowing expression on his face. "This explains why you keep company with her, doesn't it MacLeod? I couldn't figure it out before, but it makes sense now! You're trying to learn how she does it, aren't you?" "How she does what?" Duncan asked, his voice harsh. "How she hides her presence from other Immortals. I've never seen anything like it." "She's not hiding anything, she's not one of us." "Oh come now, you don't really expect me to believe that, do you? I remember her! And I can see that she remembers me," he looked amusedly at Guinan. "Can she fight? I guess we'll find out eventually, but I think I'll take a page from your book and see if I can learn her secret first. There's no point in killing her until that advantage is gained." Duncan clenched his fists, then willed the fear away, letting his hands relax. "There is no secret, she's not an Immortal, she's not even human. Leave her out of this, it's between you and me!" Dane sighed, shaking his head. "Do you always have to be so such a goody-two-shoes? If you like, you can try to protect this one again, but this time there are no civil authorities handy to interrupt us. I know you haven't fought in years, you're rusty. I, on the other hand, have." Dane brought out his sword, a seaxe, somewhat short-bladed but no less lethal than Duncan's katana. Duncan drew his blade as well. "Guinan, this is my fight," he said evenly, hoping she would take the hint and run. She didn't move, damn it. He chanced a glance at her, and found her staring at Dane with something of the mesmerized fascination of a moth for a spider. "Guinan, go!" he hissed, reaching up to unfasten his cloak, letting it fall so he wouldn't get tangled in its folds. Dane's attention snapped back to him. He saw the other man's gaze flicker over him, and saw the feral smile that bloomed as he took in the traditional garb. "Still playing the Highlander after all these years? You're such a barbarian, MacLeod. Such a romantic. That will be the death of you yet. I, on the other hand, am a thoroughly modern sort of warrior." He dropped his sword, and reached into his coat, bringing out a phaser. With a shock, Duncan realized that Dane meant to stun him, and then take his head. He was planning to cheat. What defense had he for that? An odd calm come over him. Was this how it felt to accept death? It wasn't so bad. He would fight, he had no choice. He had to give Guinan a chance to escape. But if he died, he died. "Oh no you don't!" Guinan said from behind him. She grabbed his arm, and he heard the odd little chirp of a communicator being activated. "Guinan to Enterprise, emergency! Two to beam-out on my coordinates!" Duncan had time to register Dane's stunned expression before the world faded away, and reformed entirely new. Even having heard her, it took him a moment to register the fact that he was now standing on a transporter dais aboard the Enterprise, not on a windy hillside on Valhalla. and that he was staring at a concerned-looking transporter technician, not Tanner Dane. He was momentarily glad that Worf had cleared him to carry his sword, since otherwise his arrival would have been heralded by an alarm claxon. "Damn you Duncan MacLeod, don't you ever do that again, do you hear me?" He turned to Guinan, and found her standing beside him, arms akimbo, hands fisted on her hips, her compact form radiating fury. "Do what?" he asked stupidly. "Give up! I felt you! You gave up! You were going to let him have you!" "No I wasn't!" he protested. "I was..." he broke off. Was that what he'd done? He reviewed his own actions. Maybe she was right. "I didn't mean to," he finally said, feebly. "Hah! You've been trying to give up for ages, this is just the first time you've almost succeeded, and I won't have it!" "You won't have it?" He asked incredulously. "It's my goddamned life!" "Yeah, it's your life! Remember that!" A few feet away, someone cleared their throat, reminding both of them that they weren't alone. They looked at the transporter tech, then at each other, and Duncan saw the corners of Guinan's lips twitching. He knew she was trying not to laugh, and it infected him, he felt the muscles in his face straining to keep his angry frown in place. They were squabbling like a pair of four-year-olds. He shook his head, and let himself smile ruefully. "You'd think at our ages we'd be past this, wouldn't you?" "I guess you're never too old for childishness." He chuckled. "I guess not. Thank you, if you hadn't been there..." "I know. But I was. Obviously you're not meant to die today. Come on, let's get out of here." He nodded and followed her out. A few steps down the corridor, it suddenly hit him, how near a thing that had been, and who it had been. He stopped, and shuddered, raking his fingers through his hair. "Are you all right?" Guinan asked quietly. He nodded. "Yeah, I guess. That was a lot closer than it should have been. It's rather handy having the Enterprise here to get my sorry ass out of trouble." She grinned. "Your ass is far from sorry, but I got it out of trouble." Her expression went hard, and he knew her next subject before she spoke. "You didn't tell me Dane was still alive." "I didn't know for sure, not until just now. I haven't seen or heard of him in nearly two hundred years. I hoped he was dead. Guinan, why didn't you run?" "It wasn't time. I knew I had to stay there." He studied her, one eyebrow lifted. "Your `gift'?" "If you want to call it that. I do have a touch of precognition. I just knew there was a reason for me to stay. Now I know why. I had to stay because if I hadn't, he'd have taken you, and it's not your time yet. You have a lot to do before you go." "You can tell that?" She smiled. "Not the way you mean, but yes. He knew you were here. He knew exactly where you were. How?" Duncan stared at her thoughtfully. "Good question. He's no technophobe, as you could see. Perhaps he used a scanner. I don't register as a normal human, so if you know what to look for, you could find me." "That must be it. So, what do we do now?" He stared at her. "What did you say?" She stared back. "I said, what do we do now? Since when are you hard of hearing?" He cut her off. "I heard you, I just couldn't believe you said it. You know I can't involve you in this. I have to settle it. It's between us. Civil authorities and punishments have no effect on an immortal!" "Duncan, he might kill you!" "I don't think so, not if we're fighting as equals. Because it's been so long since I last fought another Immortal, he probably thinks I'm rusty, but I'm not. I've never stopped training, and my sessions with Worf helped. He's one of the more accomplished swordsmen I've met, not to mention being a great deal stronger than most of them as well. I can take Dane. I could have taken him last time we met, if we hadn't been interrupted. This is something I have to do. If I don't, he'll just keep coming back. He seems to have some sort of fixation with me." Guinan regarded him for a long, silent moment, long enough that he began to feel uncomfortable, then finally she nodded. "You're right, this is your battle. But you should be equally armed. I can get you a phaser." He crossed his arms and squared his chin. "That... that isn't the way it's done. It wouldn't be honorable." "Honor!" she huffed. "You've been spending too much time with Worf! The hell with honor, let's talk about expediency!" He almost snapped back at her, but something made him stop and think about it first, and his answer was considerable gentler than it might have been. "Guinan, if I have no honor, what makes me any different from Dane?" She sighed. "I should have known you'd have an answer for me. Fine, be honorable. Just don't expect me to." He grinned. "You couldn't be dishonorable if you wanted to, so don't try that one on me. Look, I have to take care of something down in cargo bay 4 before I go planetside again. Will you meet me there in twenty minutes? There's something I need to find before I go back to Valhalla and confront Dane. Something I've been meaning to give you." She looked at him suspiciously. "What?" He shook his finger at her. "If I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it? Just meet me there." **** Guinan stood watching Duncan walk away, feeling the unmistakable stomach-clench of a premonition. He needed her. He was in danger, and he needed her. Hoping the urgency of the feeling didn't mean he wouldn't be safe for the next few minutes, she dashed to her quarters to change her clothes. She pulled on her fencing whites, knowing that the sophisticated fabric armor would turn a blade long enough for her to get out of its way. Over them she pulled on the loose-fitting tunic and trousers that had almost become a uniform to her. Checking in the mirror, she was satisfied that no one would suspect she wore body armor beneath her clothes. That done, she knelt in front of the box that sat on the lower shelf of one end-table, and hesitated a moment. Was this right? Was she supposed to do this? Nothing answered her, save her own need. Steeling herself against the memories she knew she would unleash, Guinan opened the box. Carefully unwinding the tapestries that bound it, she freed the tooled and dyed leather belt and sheath that held her chadith. It had been a very long time since she had even thought about the contents of the box, let alone held them in her hands. As she drew the blade and stared at its damascened length, she remembered her mother handing it to her. She could even remember the chanting of the other women, and the scent of incense that had drifted in the air. The chadith dagger was one of the gifts which ritually marked the advent of womanhood on El-Auria. The tradition had been archaic, no one actually used the blade to defend their honor by the time she had come of age, but the symbol had persisted. Tai'ai'la... had she had ever really been so young? So incredibly, unknowingly young? She examined the chadith carefully, noting that despite her neglect, the blade was in beautiful condition. Not a speck of rust marred it, and the edge was still sharp enough to cleanly sever a strand of hair with only the slightest pressure. Its weight and heft were very different from that of her fencing foil, but she had no doubt that she could wield it effectively if necessary, and it had the advantage of being small enough to conceal beneath the drape of her tunic. She put the belt around her waist, surprised to find that it went around. Apparently she hadn't changed as much as she thought she had. Fastening the catch she felt the weight settle into place, oddly familiar though it had been aeons since she had worn it. She thought of Picard's foil, Worf's betleH, Duncan's katana... this was her own heirloom blade. It seemed somehow appropriate that she should use it now. She looked into the box for a moment, seeing the few bits and pieces she had saved from her past, and for the first time it struck her as a little odd that she hid them away like this. As if by hiding them she could deny the pain of her history. Perhaps that was exactly what she had been doing. Interesting, how a small change to ones environment could bring about rather important self-revelation. Duncan's appearance had served to remind her that her life had held far more good than bad. Why had she gone so long denying that? Duncan was good for her. By helping him, she helped herself, since his problems were in many ways similar to her own. Thinking about him reminded her that he was waiting, and she quickly got to her feet and headed for the door, then paused. Deliberately she went over to the concealed storage unit near the replicator and took out a small, old- fashioned personal phaser. It wasn't as powerful or bulky as the ones the Enterprise crew were issued for away missions, but it could prove just as handy. Now that she knew who was after Duncan, she had no qualms at all about using it, if it became necessary. She set it on heavy stun and clipped it to her belt next to the knife, and adjusted her tunic to hide both of them. Amazing what loose clothes could conceal... a weapon, or a psyche. **** Duncan pawed through a storage bin, annoyed that he hadn't been able to locate the item he wanted. He knew it should be there, he remembered packing it when he'd left the Darius. A small lacquered box, which held several carefully wrapped carvings. The box and what it contained were some of the very few bits of his past he always carried with him, since they were small enough to transport easily. Speaking of which, he needed to get this stuff sent down to the warehouse when this thing with Dane was over. He smiled, realizing he had already made up his mind that he would win. The less doubt, the better. He sat back on his heels and tried to remember exactly what he'd done with it. He remembered going to his cabin and packing clothing, his katana, his books and disks, his personal stuff... books. That was it! He'd put the box with his books because it was the same size and shape. With a grin he went to the other storage unit and opened it. Sure enough, the box was there. He lifted it out and opened it, spilling the silk-wrapped objects it contained into his hand. He remembered Guinan standing in his loft over the dojo, looking at these with reverence. He hoped her memories of that evening were as good as his own. He'd realized from the starkness of her quarters that she had nothing pleasant left of her past, and he wanted to give her back a piece of it. He put the figurines back in the box and closed it, then turned toward the door to meet Guinan outside, as he'd found what he was looking for. Halfway to the door he felt the sickening surge of recognition flood him, felt his heartbeat quicken as his body responded automatically to the perceived threat. Another immortal was near, on the other side of the door. Dane? How could he have gotten aboard? But who else could it be? Duncan carefully set the lacquer box on an out of the way storage drum, and drew a fold of his plaid forward to conceal his sword. Stepping forward, the sensor in the door `saw' him and opened it. The corridor was filled with a herd of children milling around in excited array. From their clothing and accents he knew they were Valhallan, not children from the Enterprise. It was a tour group! Of course! That's how Dane had gotten aboard. He studied the group carefully, hoping that he was wrong, that the presence he had felt belonged to someone other than Tanner Dane. He saw a Star Fleet ensign looking a bit besieged, he saw the familiar faces of the children, many of whom he knew. There were only a handful of adults present, among them Tara Kinnon and Rob MacPherson who taught at the school, and some parents clearly along to help keep the group from attaining critical mass. He almost smiled at the futility of that, then he saw Dane and all humor fled. The other immortal stood at the rear of the group looking around tensely, clearly he felt Duncan's presence. He had his hand on young Dinah Fitzpatrick's shoulder, and the girl looked distinctly uncomfortable. He went rigid, anger flaring in a white-hot wave. He wanted to grab the man and throw him across the corridor, but he restrained himself. He saw Caitlin Matheson and Gillian Blackshear attempting to corral a pair of little hellions near him and hoping Dane wouldn't hear him over the gleeful noise of the kids, he quietly spoke to get their attention. "Gill, Callie, do me a favor would you?" Callie looked up, recognition bringing a smile to her rounded features. She and her husband were friends of his, and he knew he could trust her to stay calm. "Duncan! Welcome home! What can we do for you?" "Without making a scene, would you get Dinah away from that man? He's not a healthy person to be around the children. I'll take care of things once you've separated them. He won't make a scene in front of the whole group." Gillian scowled, turning. "I'll see to it." She moved through the sea of children like a ship under full sail, and stopped blocking Duncan's view, and fortunately, Dane's as well. Her voice was clear and calm as she spoke. "Dinah, you're not with your partner. Go find Michelle and stay with her now, sweetheart. And thank you for keeping an eye on her, sir." Dane muttered something unintelligible and let Dinah go. The girl skittered quickly away, looking over her shoulder as if to assure herself that he wasn't following. Duncan felt a wave of relief wash over him as the group moved on, Callie and Gillian bringing up the rear, making sure none of the kids were within Dane's reach. As Gillian moved, Dane saw Duncan, and he stiffened, then shot a glance at the two women, and arched an eyebrow in question. Duncan smiled and nodded, and Dane drew an invisible hash-mark in the air, scoring a point to Duncan. Within a few moments they were alone in the corridor, only the echo of children's voices bearing witness to their passing. "You would stoop so low as to threaten children to get to me?" Duncan grated out. "Why not? It would have worked, had you not seen me first. They're just cattle, and with the way humans breed,there are always more of them around. You've more lives than a cat, MacLeod. I carefully arranged things so you'd be alone for me on that planetoid, and then you go and get yourself rescued by a damned battleship! Then again on the planet... your friend's quick thinking saved you yet again. Very annoying. I bet you thought you'd gotten away from me, didn't you? You didn't think I'd follow you." "The decision to leave wasn't mine." "I noticed. She's quite protective of you, but then you always did seem to have that effect on women. She is fascinating, that one. I must find out how she shields. It will be a most valuable asset." "I told you she's not one of us! She's an El-Aurian." Dane lifted his eyebrows in obvious disbelief. "There you go again, making up stories. It's just too obvious, MacLeod. El-Auria? I've never heard of such a place." "That hardly matters now, it's between you and me, and I don't intend to lose. This time no phasers, just blades." Dane sighed. "I did have to give up my phaser to get aboard. Their security wouldn't let me bring it with me. Fortunately, this can be shielded much more effectively." He brought out something that looked rather like a flashlight, and thumbed a switch on its side. The air in front of him shimmered and changed, revealing a sword, the same one he'd had on the planet. Duncan wondered how the hell he'd managed that trick, but didn't have time to dwell on it. He took a step back, triggering the door mechanism again. "I don't think this is an appropriate place for what we do. Come on, in here." Dane looked suspicious. "What's inside?" Duncan rolled his eyes. "It's a cargo bay! It's full of boxes, all right? What does it matter, anyway? It's a place to fight." "I don't like traps," Dane said tightly. "I don't set traps." Duncan replied, equally terse. To his surprise, Dane laughed. "True. You're too damned noble, aren't you? Lead on, MacLeod. Let's finish this, it's gone on far too long." "It certainly has." =========================================================================