Date:         Fri, 17 Nov 1995 14:57:17 -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, 18/21 (REPOST) ADULT

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 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."
       She looked up.  "Computer, delete inhabitants, leave setting and
music intact."
       Instantly, and somewhat disconcertingly, all the other people in
the bar vanished.  It seemed empty and a little sad without them.  He
looked at her questioningly.
       "I've had fantasies about this place for centuries.  Now I finally
get to indulge one of them."
       He studied her, one corner of his mouth quirking upward as he
lifted an eyebrow.  "You've never...?"
       "Never what?"
       "Ah... indulged in a little holographic fantasy?"
       He got the distinct impression that she was blushing, though it was
impossible to really tell.
       "I won't say I haven't tempted..."  she temporized after a moment.
       "You didn't answer the question."
       "Nor do I plan to,"  she said, looking altogether innocent.
       He frowned.  "It'd be hard to compete with a hologram."
       She gazed at him thoughtfully "True.  Holograms do whatever you
tell them to.  You're much more unpredictable."
       "Now is that a bad thing, or a good thing?"  He leaned forward and
captured her hand in his, pushing up the sleeve of her gown.  The
brilliant red cloth was a warm contrast against her sienna skin.  He
dipped a finger into his glass and drew a design in whiskey on her skin.
She was very still, waiting, watching him with those eyes that
simultaneously seemed to reveal nothing, and everything.  He bent his head
to lick the fast-drying patterns from her, savoring the smoky-spicy taste
of liquor and woman in combination.  Her eyes glazed slightly and he
smiled against her skin, wondering if anyone else on the ship had any idea
how fabulously sensual this woman was.  He doubted it.  She'd been hiding
herself for far too long.  Her fingers splayed out against his cheek,
stroking softly.
       "Duncan?"
       The question in her voice was all the invitation he needed.  He
stood up, drawing her with him, then lifted her bodily onto the table.
She lay back, her eyes drifting closed as she reached up and hooked her
fingers into the waistband of his pants, trying to pull him toward her.
He resisted, and instead began to ease the full skirts of her gown upward.
The fabric, was heavy and silky, and she laughed softly as it slid against
her skin, bunching around her waist.
       "Why Duncan!  You're very forward tonight."
       "I'll not be outdone by a hologram."
       She smiled.  "We'll see."
       He knew she was teasing him, but he was half serious.  He didn't
like the thought of being his own competition, however odd a concept that
was.
       Beneath the dress she wore nothing but herself.  His fingers slid
up the soft curve of her thigh to touch the center of her.  She was
already damp.
       "Been waiting long?"  he queried, pushing his fingers deeper.
       She arched, sighing, her body easing to accommodate his touch.
"Too long.  Ever since you left me yesterday morning... that seems like
forever ago."
       "A lifetime,"  he said solemnly.
       "A lifetime..." she echoed, then smiled, opening her eyes as she
realized what he meant.  He'd died and been reborn since then.  "You can
joke about it?"
       He grinned.  "Given enough time, you can eventually develop a sense
of humor about almost anything."
       "That's nice to... ah..."  she gasped, "yeah, right there."
       He repeated the caress and she let out a long, soft moan.  It went
through him like a hot knife through butter as he remembered how she'd
felt around him the last time she'd made that sound.  She reached up,
cupping his face in her hands.
       "I need you, Duncan."
       "You have me, love."
       "No, I need you.  I'm afraid..."
       He studied her.  She wasn't lying, there was fear in her eyes.  He
was stunned.
       "What are you afraid of?"
       "Of going back to what I was."
       He stared down at her for a long moment, and finally shook his
head.  He eased his fingers deeper into her, more gently this time, with
less urgency.  "You won't.  You won't let yourself.  You don't need me to
see to that.  Only you can do that."
       She clasped her hands behind his neck, pulling him down for another
kiss.  He gave it to her, then lifted.
       "Only you,"  he repeated, insistent.
       She nodded, that unsettling panic gone from her eyes.  "I know.  I
just... forgot for a minute.  Will you remind me if I forget again?"
       He nodded.  "Any time, my lady.  It would be my honor and my
pleasure."
       She shivered.  "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"
       He closed his eyes, remembering how she'd felt, taut and succulent
around him, and nodded, smiling.  "If it's anything like what you do to
me, then I do."
       Though they had barely begun, he knew she was as ready as he was.
He pulled her toward the edge of the table, and her hands were deft on the
fastenings of his garments, freeing him.  She raised her hips, angling
them toward him, and he met her, their bodies merging in heat and slick
pleasure.  She wound her fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth to
hers, which bowed him over her, and pushed him deep.  He kissed her,
tasting her, sliding his tongue into her mouth to play with hers as he
began to move, slowly, leisurely, pushing deep and withdrawing.  She
sucked on his tongue, and lifted into each of his thrusts.  She was so
small, so tight...  he drowned her, it was like making love to a creature
of liquid fire.
       "I love the way you feel, feel Duncan, so cool, so sleek."  Her
words were a mirror of his, reversed images.
       "Fire and ice,"  he said, using the image they had settled on once
before.
       "Yes, oh yes."
       She locked her legs around him with a strength that surprised him;
kissing him, urging him on with hands and mouth and whispered words.  He
took her fast then, driving both of them until their cries echoed, only
moments apart.  Pleasure poured through him, into her, melding them.  His
body shuddered with flashes and sparks of ecstasy, but that was
subordinate to his delight in the coherence of their mating.  There was
nothing that equaled this, nothing at all.  No words ever captured the
mingling of physical and emotional bliss that this merging of bodies and
minds gave.
       After awhile his back began to protest the awkwardness of their
position, and with a groan he caught her around the waist and sat down on
one of the hard wooden chairs with her in his lap.  He sighed in relief,
trembling a little as their breathing slowly evened.  After a little while
she lifted her head.
       "You're a screamer,"  she said, grinning.  "I like that."
       He stared at her, a bit embarrassed "I'm not... I mean, ahh..."  He
had to stop before he made himself a liar.
       She laughed out loud, and he remembered how sweet it felt for a
woman to laugh while he was within her.  It had been a long time.  Too
long.
       "It's a compliment,"  she told him.  "Shut up and take it."
       He shook his head.  "Whatever you say."
       Lower, her hand began to trace an idle pattern on his hip, her body
clasping around him in silky ripples.  He sighed in pleasure.
       "Guinan, you're far too good at this."
       "After six hundred years, I should certainly hope so!"
       "Only six hundred?  God... I'm robbing the cradle!"  he exclaimed
in mock dismay.  "I'll never live it down."
       "What's a century here or there?"  she asked, tracing a fingertip
down the lines that formed around his mouth when he smiled.  "I won't tell
if you won't."
       "My lips are sealed."
       She leaned forward and proceeded to prove him false.  They weren't
sealed at all.  In fact, they were quite open.  She began to kiss her way
down his jaw toward his neck, the most vulnerable area of his body.  It
was difficult to allow that intimacy.  He hadn't let anyone this close
since a human lover had tried to kill him to please another Immortal a
century earlier.  Could she feel his fear?
       "I would never harm you,"  she whispered in his ear.
       That answered that.  She felt it.  He found her lips with his
fingers and traced their outline gently.  "I trust you,"  he rasped,
letting his head fall back, exposing the taut line of his throat.
       She ducked her head under his chin at that and he couldn't see her,
but he felt her, felt random drops of heat spatter his skin.  He reached
down and lifted her face, seeing the tears in her eyes.
       "Guinan?  What did I say?"
       She shook her head, smiling.  "Everything."
       He knew then.  Trust.  For her that was far more important than any
romantic nonsense about her eyes, or breasts, or lips.
       "I have, and would, trust you with my life."  he swore, meaning it.
       She gazed at him, her expression oddly distant.  "Yes, you will."
       He wondered what she meant by that, but before he could ask, she
shivered suddenly, this time with cold, not passion.
       "Lets go home, Duncan."
       "Home?"
       "Well, to bed then.  It's as close as we have to home."
       Sadly that was all too true for her.  He wanted that to change.
She needed to settle, but it wasn't time yet.  Too soon.  She needed
longer to deal with her ghosts, whatever they were.  Still, perhaps he
could help her along that road.
       "I have a home.  I want you to see it."
       She smiled.  "I'd love to.  Tomorrow.  Tonight, I just want to
sleep with you."
       "Just sleep?"  he queried mischievously, trying out his most
effective pout.
       She laughed.  "Well... we'll see."


                                   ####

       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 begin to
emerge from other buildings to herd children away from the school.
Parents, retrieving their children at the end of the day.  He felt the
usual stab of jealousy at the sight.  Perhaps it was masochistic to stand
here and watch them, but he felt somehow compelled to do so.
       "If it's fun, why does it hurt?"  Guinan asked quietly.
       He focused on her, surprised for a moment, before he remembered
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