Date:         Fri, 17 Nov 1995 14:38:21 -0600
Reply-To:     Julia Kosatka <JKosatka@UH.EDU>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Julia Kosatka <JKosatka@UH.EDU>
Subject:      In the Dark, 13/21 (REPOST) ADULT

the bar.
       "He seems like an interesting man."  Deanna commented mildly.
       Guinan chuckled.  "You don't know the half of it."
       "Oh?  Tell me more?"
       "Nope, not me.  It's not my place to tell.  Suffice it to say,
there's more to Duncan MacLeod than meets the eye."
       Deanna made a disgusted face.  "Well I could tell that much without
your help, Guinan!  You're a terrible tease!"
       She laughed out loud "Guilty.  Now, are you ever going to order
dinner, or are you fasting tonight?"
       "Fast?  Me?"  With a grin, Deanna allowed herself to be distracted.
She had less than 3 hours before they rendezvoused with the shuttle the
Captain was on, and she wanted a chance to finalize her crew report.
Jean- Luc Picard was one of the few people she knew who usually returned
from leave more stressed than before they left.  As for Duncan MacLeod,
she'd have to find out more about him some other way.  She wondered what
sort of records the Pilot's Guild kept, and if they were accessible to the
 public.

                                   ****

     Picard leaned back into the sofa in his ready room with a sigh and
reached for his tea.  If there was anything he disliked more than being
forced into going on leave it was picking up the pieces afterward.  Riker
could easily have dealt with three-quarters of the reports listed on his
screen, but regulations required that they come to his attention.  As if
it mattered whether or not he knew the serial number of the new port relay
assembly.  His doorchime tweedled and brought him out of his reverie.
       "Come."
       He felt the almost imperceptible alteration in his bearing as he
went from being 'man' to `Captain'.  Seeing Counselor Troi enter the room,
the `Captain' persona relaxed a little, but remained dominant.  He started
to rise, but she waved him to remain seated, which he did.
       "Counselor, please, sit down.  What may I do for you?  Would you
care for some tea?"  He didn't have to be an empath to know that something
was bothering her.  Who counsels the counselor, he wondered with a touch
of amusement.
       She declined his offer of tea and sat down on the opposite end of
the sofa.  She placed her hands deliberately in her lap as if by that act
she could also place her obviously troubled thoughts in order.  The
silence stretched between them for a few moments, he sipping his tea, she
lost in whatever quandary had brought her here.  Finally, Troi's shoulders
straightened a little and her expression changed to one of decision.
       "Captain, I hesitate to bother you with this at all, but there's
something I think you should know."
       "Yes, Deanna?"  With his use of her name his Captain persona
slipped another notch.  After all the years of serving together, not to
mention all she had done for him, she deserved more than the attention of
a commanding officer.  Right now, she looked as if she needed a friend.
       "Have you met our guest, Duncan MacLeod?"
       He studied her, trying to gauge her level of disquiet.  She seemed
concerned, but not overly so.
        "No, I haven't had an opportunity yet, though I have read the
away- team's reports and spoken to Commander Riker about him.  Is there
something that isn't in the reports that you think I should know?"
       Troi looked down at her hands, then back up at him.  "Did the
reports mention that he and Guinan are old friends?"
       A friend of Guinan's?  He felt a surge of surprise and curiosity,
and just a little trepidation.  Guinan had some very interesting old
acquaintances; among them the entity `Q', for example.  It was enough to
make one a bit wary.  However, he himself was also an old friend of
Guinan's, and Deanna had termed this man a friend.  He trusted Guinan's
judgement on that score.  His reply was careful.
       "Guinan probably has many old friends, and she has exhibited a
rather striking fondness for humans for quite a-- long time."  He smiled
remembering the first time he and Guinan had met.  "That's just it, sir."
Troi held his gaze steadily, "He says he's human but he's not human."
       Picard leaned forward, his eyes intent.  "Would you care to
elaborate on that?"
       She shifted uncomfortably.  "I can't really.  I just know he's not
human.  I've never met a human who-- feels like he does."
       He frowned slightly, preferring more solid evidence.  "So you're
reporting a feeling?"
       She nodded.  "Yes sir.  I just thought you ought to know."
       "Have you discussed this with anyone else?"
       She looked offended.  "No, of course not!"
       "Have you asked Guinan about him?"
       "No sir, I-- wasn't entirely sure of her objectivity in this
matter."
       His eyebrows went up.  "Now that's an interesting statement.
Guinan is one of the most objective people I've ever met.  What reason do
you have to think that's changed?"
       "Have you seen her since you got back?"
       "No, I haven't had an opportunity to go down to Ten-Forward yet."
       "Go.  You'll see what I mean."
       He sat back and looked at her over steepled fingers.  "You have me
intrigued, Counselor.  Do you think MacLeod is a danger to the ship or
crew?"
       She thought about that for a moment, then shook her head.  "No, I
don't.  He's a very charming man, I don't think he would cause any harm,
but the deception bothers me.  That, and Worf."
       That got his attention.  "What about Lieutenant Worf?"
       "It's just that a few hours ago he was suspicious and wary of
MacLeod, yet when I saw him just now in the turbolift, he spoke of him as
an `honorable warrior,' and told me he's invited him to participate in a
holodeck workout!  That's not like Worf!"
       Picard gazed at her thoughtfully.  "I can see why that might
concern you, Counselor, but actually, I think it's quite like Worf.  Once
you've proven yourself to him, he accepts you without reservation.  It
appears he has done so with our guest, however it would set my mind at
ease if you were to speak to Worf and ascertain the reasons behind his
actions.  I take it that you've not had time to do so yet?"
       "No, I just saw him for a moment as I was on my way here.  I did
plan to speak to him about it, though."
       "Good.  Is there anyone else you feel MacLeod has had an undue
influence on?"
       Deanna thought about his question, and slowly nodded.  "Yes,
actually there is."
       "Who?"
       "Lieutenant Barclay, sir."
       "In what way?"
       "Well, he was assigned to help MacLeod transfer his cargo to the
Enterprise.  A little while ago I got a call from him.  He was terribly
excited, telling me that because of his conversation with MacLeod, he's
going to study cooking, and organic farming techniques, and has even
enrolled in Worf's mok'bara class, because, as he put it, `I want to know
what it's like to work hard, physically.' Does that sound like Barclay to
you?"
       He reviewed what she'd told him, and gazed at her, puzzled.  "If
you'll forgive me, Counselor, those sound like positive developments.
It's difficult to consider this man a threat under the circumstances."
       She sighed.  "I know, and I wouldn't even have mentioned it at all,
if it weren't for the deception.  I just makes me wonder."
       "I understand, Deanna, and I'll check into it."  He stood and
stretched, working the kinks out of his back.  "I think it's time for a
trip down to Ten-Forward.  Which has the added benefit of getting me out
from under this damned paperwork for a few minutes, so I'm grateful to you
for bringing this matter to my attention!"
       That broke her tension and she smiled.  "Anytime, captain."

                                ****

       Picard walked into Ten-Forward and noticed the automatic hush that
always accompanied his entry into a room.  After a moment conversations
started again, but with a bit less animation.  He walked over to the bar
and looked around, not spotting Guinan's familiar headgear anywhere,
though he did see Lt. Barclay conversing animatedly with Ensign Barrow
from Hydroponics.  That was a surprise.  Barclay talking?  To a woman?
Not silent or stammering?  Interesting.  He approached the bar and got the
attention the young man who was working the counter.
       "Excuse me, I'm looking for Guinan, have you seen her recently?"
       A quick smile tugged at one corner of the server's mouth.  "Yes
sir, she's right there."  He pointed over Picard's shoulder.
       Picard turned and looked.  He didn't see her.
       "Where?"
       "There sir, in the rust and olive."
       He looked again, this time looking for the colors the man had
described.  The only woman wearing them was standing a few feet away next
to one of the tables, talking and laughing with its occupant.  Her back
was to Picard, and it was clear from her figure that it wasn't Guinan.  He
shook his head.
       "Perhaps you didn't hear me correctly, I was looking for Guinan."
       This time the server chuckled.  "Yes sir, I know.  That's her."
       Picard looked again, just in time to see the woman turn toward
another table.  He stared.  By God, it was her!  But... it wasn't.  She
was wearing a dress, one not too unlike something he remembered Kamala
wearing, and her hair was free of its usual confinement, framing her face
in a mass of thin braids.  She looked like an entirely different person.
She saw him, and grinned, moving closer with that gliding walk that was
her trademark.  He was relieve to see that hadn't changed.
       "Jean-Luc!  Welcome back, it's good to see you!  How was your
vacation?"
       "Guinan?"  he said, stunned.
       "Twenty-three."  she said, making a wry face.
       "Excuse me?"
       "You're the twenty-third person today to say my name in exactly
those tones.  I should have done this years ago.  I seem to have shocked
you all senseless."
       "I wouldn't say shocked," Picard began.
       "I would,"  Guinan interrupted.  "I saw your face."
       He chuckled.  "All right, you have me there.  You look lovely."
       She preened.  "Thank you, that's better."
       "I had no idea you..."  he broke off, realizing he was about to put
his foot firmly into his mouth.  She laughed at him.
       "You had no idea I cleaned up so well?  Just as well you didn't say
that."  She steered him toward a seat at the bar and took the one opposite
him.  "How was your trip?"
       "Boring.  How was yours?"
       "Not.  We had a bit of excitement."
       "So I'm given to understand.  I hear he's an old friend of yours."
       "That he is."
       She smiled as she answered, and he saw something in her smile he'd
never noticed in her before.  He found it very appealing, and he found
himself wondering why he'd never noticed how attractive she was.  Her
comment gave him an opening, though, and he was still enough in Captain
mode to pursue it.
       "How old a friend?"  he asked lightly.
       "Older than some, not so old as others," she temporized.
       "That's not quite the answer I need, Guinan.  I hope you'll forgive
me if this seems crass, but I feel I should make certain.  Some of your
old acquaintances have had a rather disruptive effect on this ship and its
crew, to put it mildly.  Is MacLeod one of that sort?"
       Her eyes widened, and she stiffened in obvious offense.  "No!
Remember, Jean-Luc, `Q' approached you on his own.  Had I been on board
then, things might have turned out differently.  You, of all people,
should know better than to think I wouldn't warn you about anyone I felt
could pose even the slightest threat!"
       He took her hand.  "Guinan, I'm sorry, I don't doubt that, but I
thought it was quite possible that you hadn't warned me because I wasn't
here when he came aboard.  Also, Counselor Troi admits to being a bit
disturbed by him, and it would not be right of me not to check."
       She looked at him for a long moment, then gave his hand a quick
squeeze.  "You're forgiven.  As for Deanna, I'd be surprised if she wasn't
disturbed by Duncan.  I find him a bit--"  she grinned and winked at him.
"...disturbing, myself."
       He was surprised to find himself grinning back at her rather
foolishly, and wondering if she were free for dinner.  Before he could
make an idiot of himself by asking, she spoke again.
       "You haven't met him yet, have you?  He and Worf went down to
Holodeck 4 nearly an hour ago to do `calisthenics,' as Worf likes to call
it.  Anyway, they ought to be about finished.  Why don't you go introduce
yourself?"
       Picard thought about Guinan's unexpected metamorphosis, and
Barclay's, and nodded.  "I think I shall."
       She smiled and made her way back toward the bar.  He watched her,
and became aware that he wasn't the only one doing so.  More than one pair
of eyes followed her with interest.
       Musing on that, he made his way down to the holodeck.  There was
definitely something different about her now, and it had nothing to do
with her clothing or hair.  It was something far more intense and
personal.  He remembered all the times he'd sat with her and talked long
into the night, or fenced with her on the holodeck, or even just nodded in
passing.  Why had he never looked deeper?  Why had he never wondered about
her dreams, her needs?  He'd rather taken her for granted, and suddenly he
felt badly about that.
       He stopped outside the holodeck and noticed that the program was
still running.  Curious, he thought for a moment about entering, but
decided against it.
       "Computer, is this program privacy-secured?"
       "Negative."
       "Activate monitor."
       The small screen next to the programming padd lit up and he watched
it with interest.  Worf was armed with his Klingon betelH, and his
opponent carried what appeared to be a Japanese katana.  As he watched
they engaged, and he whistled softly.  The sort of naked-blade practice
they were engaged in could be damned dangerous!  He was tempted to stop
the program for safety's sake, but as he watched it was clear that there
was consummate skill in the way they handled their weapons.  The
combatants were extremely well-matched as to height, weight, and, he
noticed with amusement, hairstyle.  Having fought Klingons himself, he had
to admit he was impressed by MacLeod.
       The balance of power tipped back and forth until finally the man
MacLeod caught the betleH between the spikes with his blade and seemingly
without effort used his sword as a lever to flip the betleH out of Worf's
grasp and onto the ground several feet away.  Even on the tiny screen,
Worf's chagrin and surprise were clear.  They stood for a moment,
breathing hard, then Worf clapped the other man across the shoulder and
said something unintelligible.  MacLeod laughed and put down his sword,
reaching out to shake the Klingon's hand.  A moment later the
holo-background of a Klingon ritual-combat area disappeared and the
yellow-on-black programming grid replaced it.  The erstwhile combatants
headed for the door.
       "Deactivate monitor,"  Picard said quietly as the holodeck doors
opened.  The small screen went black and he stepped back a pace.
       "You shall show me how that move is accomplished.  It is a trick I
would like to try,"  Worf was saying as they stepped from the room.
       "I'd be happy to, if in exchange you'll instruct me on the finer
points of the betleH,"  MacLeod returned.  "It's a formidable weapon."
       "It is, but I will admit that it is not so fine a one as your own.
It has been in my family only four generations."
       Picard saw that MacLeod still carried the katana, which, since it
had not disappeared with the program, must belong to him.  He glanced
quickly at the weapon, taking in the carved ivory hilt and the rippling
play of light on the blade which spoke of folded steel.  Worf was right,
that was no modern replica.  Something about it spoke of age and long use.
       "Gentlemen."  Picard announced his presence quietly.  Worf came
instantly to attention, but MacLeod's reaction was far more interesting.
He dropped into a fighting stance with the easy grace of a fighter, sword
up and ready.  Seconds later, after his sharp gaze had taken in Picard's
uniform and rank pips, the sword dropped into non-threatening position and
he straightened.  The change was so swift that for moment Picard thought
he might have imagined it, but he knew he had not.  The man was trained to
fight.  Perhaps that was part of Deanna's unease.  Starfleet was not
really a military organization, even its best-trained fighters would be
hard pressed to display that sort of battle-readiness.
       "Captain, is there a problem?"  Worf rumbled, clearly ill at ease
at being caught out of uniform, even though he was off-duty.
        "No, Mr. Worf, no problem."  Picard shifted his attention to
Worf's companion.  "I've read the reports about what happened while I was
away, and thought I ought to introduce myself.  I'm Captain Jean-Luc
Picard."  He held out his hand, and MacLeod shifted his sword to his left
hand and took Picard's hand in a firm clasp.
       "Duncan MacLeod, sir, late of the Darius.  It's a pleasure to meet
you, the Enterprise is quite a ship, you must be very proud of her."
       "I am, I assure you.  I understand you're a friend of Guinan's?"
       "I have that honor."
       "As do I."
       "Mr. MacLeod."  Beverly Crusher's voice sounded firm and faintly
annoyed.  All three men turned toward the source.  She was standing in the
corridor, arms crossed, with a distinctly displeased expression on her
face.  Picard shot a glance at the man, and almost smiled at the look of
resignation spreading over it.  He knew that look.  He'd worn it himself
on many occasions.
       "You, sir, have been avoiding me."  The doctor accused, lifting an
eyebrow as she waited for a response.
       "I... have."  MacLeod admitted.
       "Why?"
       He sighed.  "I don't need a physical, Doctor.  I'm fine."
       "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"
       "I can't."
       "Why not?"
       MacLeod looked trapped for a moment, then a tiny smile lifted one
corner of his mouth.  Picard waited.  This should be good.
       "I'm a Christian Scientist."
       Beverly looked puzzled.  Picard knew exactly how she felt.  "A
what?"
       "Christian Scientist.  We don't believe in medical intervention.
It would be against my religious ethos to allow a doctor to examine me."
       Beverly's eyes narrowed.  "Is that so?  Why have I never heard of
this sect?"
       MacLeod shrugged.  "Beats me.  Go ahead, check it out if you like.
Ask your computer."
       She stared at him a moment, then called his bluff.  "All right, I
will."  She looked up.  "Computer?  Search databanks for religious group
known as Christian Scientists, especially as pertains to their beliefs
about medical intervention."
       Moments later the computer's disembodied voice spoke.  "Christian
Science, a Terran para-Christian Cult whose adherents believe that all
healing comes from Deity.  This sect adheres to strict policy of no
medical intervention."
       Beverly looked stunned.  MacLeod looked smug.  Picard had to work
very hard not to laugh.  He hadn't seen his chief medical officer so
neatly stymied in years.  After a moment Bev shook her head, a rueful
smile curving her mouth.
       "Well, Mr. MacLeod, you've manage to weasel your way out of an
examination, haven't you?  However, if you could manage to explain to me
what you lived on for five days when your replicators were offline and
there were no emergency rations aboard, I would certainly like to hear
it!"
       "I went hungry,"  he said simply.  "It's not the first time, nor, I
imagine, will it be the last."
       She gazed at him thoughtfully.  "That's certainly plausible;
however, I also discovered that your water stores were contaminated by
that coolant leak.  You don't mean to tell me you went without liquid for
five days as well, do you?"
       "Not at all."  He smiled brilliantly.  "I had a case of Laphroig
aboard that I was planning to sell.  Nothing contaminates a good
single-malt."
       "You..."  she sputtered, then rolled her eyes and made a face.
"You are a damned slippery character, Duncan MacLeod.  Just like your
father, from what I hear!"
       He chuckled.  "That I am."
       Picard stared at his CMO.  "Don't tell me you know him too?"
       Bev turned to him, curious.  "Too?  Who else knows him?"
       "He's an old friend of Guinan's."
       "Oh really?  Fascinating!  Actually, I just met Mr. MacLeod
yesterday, but it turns out that his father was a friend of my
grandmother's."
       Picard studied MacLeod again, thinking it a bit odd that this man
had connections to two such vastly different women.  But then, perhaps it
wasn't so surprising after all.  He would admit to being no expert on what
women found attractive in a man, but he was willing to wager that this
particular specimen would fall into that category for just about every
woman aboard the ship.  He wondered what Beverly would say if he asked her
about him.  Would she admit to such interest?  He wasn't the jealous type,
but with their own relationship so tenuous, it was a little unsettling to
find himself wondering how she regarded the man.  Shaking off that
feeling, he remembered that Deanna had wanted him to try and learn more
about the man.
       "Mr. MacLeod, would you care to join me for dinner?  Guinan is a
long-time friend of mine, and I am always pleased to learn more about her
friends.  Also, I understand you're from Valhalla, and I'd like to satisfy
my curiosity about the place.  I've heard a lot of fascinating things
about it."
       To his surprise, MacLeod shook his head.  "May I take you up on
your offer another time?  To be honest, it's been a long week, and after
that work-out,"  he nodded toward the holodeck, "what I really want is a
few hours sleep."
       Picard nodded pleasantly, but wanted to make sure he understood
that it wasn't exactly a request.  "I understand.  Perhaps tomorrow night,
if that's convenient?  If not, we still have several days before reaching
Starbase 108."
       MacLeod gazed at him shrewdly, understanding clear on his face.  "I
would be honored to meet with you tomorrow night, sir."
       With that MacLeod nodded briefly to the three Star Fleet officers,
and walked away down the hall.  Picard caught Beverly watching him, and
cleared his throat to get her attention.
       "Well, Beverly, I hope you'll not turn me down too."
       She jumped a little, and turned to him, her cheeks a tiny bit
flushed.  "Is that an invitation?"
       "It is."
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