Date: Fri, 17 Nov 1995 11:08:19 -0600 Reply-To: Julia Kosatka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Julia Kosatka Subject: In the Dark, 5/21 (REPOST) ADULT "Still, it wouldn't hurt to check on similarities. I'll call around when we get back to the station." "Humoring the crazy man?" She smiled. "No. Too many of your hunches have panned out for me to disregard them now." Dana saw movement on the stairs that led up to the second entrance to the bar and glanced up, then stared. MacLeod. She recognized him, but she would have stared anyway. The man was just plain stunning. She'd noticed it in the grainy surveillance photo Bennett had shown her, but that had not prepared her for the reality of him. Beautifully proportioned, he had the face of a Renaissance prince; olive-skinned, with full, sensual lips, and dark, bedroom eyes. Even in faded jeans and an old, stretched-out sweater he was remarkable. "Did Fabio just walk in or what?" It took her a moment to register what Mulder had said, but finally she did, and her attention snapped back to her partner as she stared at him in horror. He was regarding her with an amused expression, but hadn't turned around to see what she was looking at, thank goodness. "Uh... no, our suspect did," she said, matter-of-factly, hoping it was dark enough in the bar that he wouldn't notice her blushing. Mulder sat up straighter. "MacLeod?" he asked quietly. "None other." "What's he doing?" "Going over to the bar. He looks worried." Mulder looked at his full cup and swore. "Damn, why didn't I wait to get a refill? I could go eavesdrop!" Scully tipped her glass and finished the last of her drink. "I'll go. I need another celery stick anyway." She got up and walked toward the bar, placing a supporting pillar between herself and them for a moment to see if she could hear anything. "...got to thinking that the timing was strange." MacLeod was saying. He had an interesting accent, she thought it was Scottish but wasn't quite sure. He continued, obviously unaware that he was being overheard. "For her to show up now just seemed too great a coincidence, so I did some checking. It took me two hours of calling around to some of the other musicians just to find her name is Guinan Lawrence. Knowing that, it shouldn't have been hard to get some hard information on her, but there's nothing to find! She has no driver's license, no passport, no social security number, no one knows where she's from or where she lives. She doesn't even seem to have a credit history of any kind! It's like she doesn't exist!" "I can't believe you'd check up on her like that! That's pretty damned cold, Mac!" Joe was clearly angry with MacLeod, and had no qualms about letting him know it. Not the behavior of a man who felt he was threatened. "Joe, I'm worried about you! And about me, for that matter! With what's been happening, we can't take chances! I don't want to believe anything bad of her either, I like her, a lot, and she seems to be genuine, but what if she's not? What if it's her? What if she's working with Dane?" "No, Duncan. I refuse to believe that. I am not that poor a judge of character." "Joe, I have two words for you. James Horton." That was met with silence. After a moment Scully decided she'd heard all she was going to, and moved from behind the pillar to set her glass on the countertop. It took a moment for the men to realize she was there. There was enough tension between them to practically electrify the air around them. MacLeod noticed her first, and stepped back. "I'm sorry, go ahead. We were just talking." She nodded. "I didn't want to interrupt your conversation, but I would like another drink." "Of course." Joe smiled. "Two celery sticks this time?" She smiled. "That would be great!" He was so pleasant to her that it was hard to believe that moments earlier his manner had been clearly angry. MacLeod stood unmoving, arms crossed in a slightly defensive posture. He remained silent as Joe fixed her drink and put two stalks of celery into it with a flourish. "Here you go, that'll be two even. And I'll throw in some free some advice. Don't let him get away with being such a cheap date. Make him take you to dinner." She shook her head, grinning as she handed him her money. "He's not my date, we just work together." Joe shook his head in mock disgust. "Then he's even dumber than I thought." She laughed, delighted by the banter. "You, sir, are a flirt." He grinned back. "Sometimes." "When he's not being surly to his friends." MacLeod muttered behind her. She pretended she hadn't heard that and took her drink back to the table. "Enjoy yourself?" Mulder asked drily. "Actually, yes, but I also overheard some interesting things." She took a small notepad out of her pocket and jotted down the names she'd overheard. "Something about they way they talked makes me think they know what's been happening. They seemed worried, and MacLeod had been checking up on a woman he thought might be a threat. He also mentioned a couple of other names in that context. We can check those out, if nothing else." Mulder was frowning. "They know about the murders?" "I can't say for sure, but MacLeod talked about `what's been happening' and `not taking chances'. I suppose he could have been referring to just about anything, but considering the fact that the bartender has the tattoo, it seems logical to assume that they were talking about the murders." Mulder nodded, looking distracted. "Interesting. If they perceive a threat toward themselves as opposed to against someone else..." he shook his head. "I hate it when things get complicated. And I still want to know what those tattoos are all about. It's like it's some sort of secret club or something!" He suddenly sat up straight. "Let's go back to the station. I need to call someone, and I don't want to do it from here." Scully nodded and finished her drink. "I wonder if they have a vending machine at the station?" she said wistfully, digging a five-dollar bill out of her wallet and laying it on the table to cover the tip. "I still need food." "What, pretzels and celery sticks don't do it for you?" She shook her head. "You owe me lunch, Mulder. No, make it dinner. Seafood, preferably." "After we pick up the car we can stop by a Burger King and get you a Whaler." "Don't start with me, Mulder, or the next decapitation in Seattle is likely to be yours. With a plastic knife." **** Joe watched the woman finish her drink, and then she and her friend stood to leave. He nodded toward them. "Pretty lady," he commented quietly to Duncan. MacLeod shrugged. "Was she? I didn't notice." Joe shook his head. "You must be preoccupied. I've never known you not to notice an attractive woman before!" Duncan smiled a little and studied her covertly as she walked up the stairs. "She is, isn't she? Kind of a forties-look, with those lips. The suit's a bit too staid for her, though." "I don't know, it seemed okay to me." Duncan eyed him, taking in the flannel shirt he wore over an old Harley-Davidson t-shirt, and lifted an eyebrow. "Fashion wisdom coming from someone who's gotten into `grunge' at your age? That's coming it a bit strong if you ask me." "I haven't had a chance to do laundry, and these were clean." "You need a maid." "Not on your life! I don't want anyone poking around in my stuff, thanks. Neither should you, if it comes right down to it. If someone were to find the Watcher files..." "Point taken. Speaking of Watchers, any more news?" Joe nodded grimly. "This one's the worst yet, Los Angeles, three days ago, and this time the young woman our man was dating was also killed. She wasn't even a Watcher, for God's sake!" "Have you heard from Dane's Watcher yet?" Joe shook his head. "No, and I'm starting to worry. Dane could have killed him too." "It's possible. Three days ago... wasn't that the same day Dane was seen in northern California? Joe nodded. "Damn. California isn't all that far from here. Joe, I think you should start carrying your gun." "What for? It wouldn't do me any good!" "If you can put him down long enough that he has to spend time healing, it should give you the time you need to get away, or even long enough to use your Bowie to make it permanent." Joe nodded grimly. "You have a point." "Have you alerted the other Watchers here?" Joe nodded. "I put out a network-wide alert last night, and asked everyone to keep their eyes open for Dane." "Good. I told Richie this morning, and he's going up to warn Amanda and Michelle. Look, I know I shouldn't ask this, but will you tell me who the victims are so far? You don't have to give me the Watcher's names, but I'd like to know who the Immortals were." Joe sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then nodded. "You'll find out eventually anyway, but you're not going to like it." He grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen, and began to write. After a moment he handed the list to MacLeod, his mouth set. Duncan took it, ran down the list, and looked up at Joe, his face ashen. "Joe... these are all students of mine! Every one of them is someone I've mentored! Damn it, he's doing this to get to me!" Joe nodded. "I know, Duncan. I realized that last night." Duncan looked again at the last name on the list and closed his eyes, leaning against the counter. Kwame Bere. They had been friends since the Civil War, and they'd just spoken a bare three weeks earlier, trying to find time to get together. To his surprise he felt the sting of tears behind his closed eyelids... something he'd not felt in a long time. He remembered Guinan's words to him the night before and knew she was right. He also felt a stirring of guilt for wondering if she were somehow involved in all this. But how could he not wonder? "Duncan?" He straightened and opened his eyes. Joe was watching him, clearly concerned. "It never gets any easier." Duncan said quietly. A moment later the pain was subsumed by anger. "I want him," he said, his voice flat. "And I'll have him." "You'd be doing the world a favor, but Mac, can you beat him? He's taken a lot of Quickenings lately, he could be stronger than you are." "He could be," Duncan admitted, then he lifted an eyebrow, "but I'm better." Joe grinned. "Don't get cocky." "I'm not. Just confident." "Good." Joe looked up at the empty stage for a moment, then back. "Mac, you don't really think she's got anything to do with this, do you?" Duncan sighed. "I don't know what to think. I suppose it's just barely possible to exist in the world without a paper trail of some sort, but it certainly looks damning from here." "Your own past might look as mysterious to an outsider." Joe pointed out reasonably. "Once, perhaps, but in recent years I've always been careful to make an identity trail for every persona I've adopted. Joe, I know how to create a paper-trail. I know what a real one looks like and what a fake one looks like, but this is the first time I've ever come up against one that was utterly nonexistent! Why?" "There could be any number of reasons why someone might use an assumed name. She's a singer, it could just be her stage name." "True," Duncan admitted grudgingly. "But then why didn't she tell us her real name?" "Why should she? It's not like we're long-time friends. We've barely met. Who knows? Maybe she likes to play games." Was she playing some sort of game? The woman who had helped him through last night's bout of depression had not struck him as a game- player. Duncan had to acknowledge Joe's point that they were not close, though after last night, she had seemed so. He wasn't sure how Joe would feel about the time he'd spent with Guinan, so he didn't mention it, though in truth there was nothing to hide. Hiding... "Maybe she's hiding from someone." That idea made him feel marginally better. It was a motivation he could understand. "She doesn't seem the type to hide," Joe said, dubiously. "She doesn't seem the type to play games, either." "True." "Maybe you should just ask her," said someone behind them. Duncan spun, startled, to find the woman in question standing not three feet from him, her arms crossed, with an expression that looked suspiciously like amusement on her face. #### Guinan stood at the entrance to the bar and waited for the couple who were coming out. They were a good-looking pair, the woman short, rounded, and red-haired, the man tall, lean and dark. At odds with their looks, they appeared tense, distracted and almost grim. The man studied her as he moved past, his gray-green gaze disturbingly sharp and analytic. She nodded politely as he passed, wondering vaguely why he looked so suspicious. Had she'd met him before? She didn't think so. They paused a moment beneath the overhang to fasten their coats against the rain, and she caught just a bit of their conversation as she opened the door to the bar. "...on those autopsy reports from the other killings, and find out if there are any similarities. Who are you going to call?" the woman was asking her companion. "An old professor of mine from Oxford. He's a medieval historian, but he sidelights writing pop books on secret societies like the Templars, the Rosicrucians, that sort of thing. If anyone can identify that tattoo, it's probably him." "Secret societies, Mulder? That's a bit farfetched," the red-head chided softly, fond amusement in her voice. "What about this case isn't?" the man answered her, then stepped out into the rain. Guinan shivered. Not a pleasant subject at all. No wonder they looked grim. They must be police officers. That would account for the man's mannerisms. She pushed open the door to the bar and found the atmosphere inside no less somber than that outside. Duncan was at the counter, apparently arguing with Joe, his bright aura dampened by strong emotions. She sighed. So much for the work she'd done with him last night. He was in pain again, and this time there were nuances of fear and anger as well. Joe's normally calm presence seemed substantially awry as well. She moved closer and listened to them for a moment. After a few sentences she realized with some amusement that they were arguing about her. She had sensed that they were both attracted to her, but this didn't seem like that sort of alpha-male bickering. She had to admit that she felt rather attracted to both of them, unfortunately no matter what the attraction, one of the first rules of Visitation was that you simply didn't get involved with the natives that way; which at times was both a damned shame and a real nuisance. However, she thought she ought to break this nonsense up before it got any worse. She moved forward, and stopped just behind them. They didn't notice. She crossed her arms and waited for them to look up, and they didn't. Finally, she interrupted their tennis-match of a conversation. "Maybe you should just ask her," she said quietly. Duncan turned, obviously startled. Joe looked just as surprised. It was hard not to be amused by them, but she did manage not to smile. Was that a blush beneath Duncan's five-o-clock shadow? What had they been discussing? "Ah... Guinan... hi," he stammered, clearly at a loss. "Hi yourself. So what is it you boys wanted to know?" she asked deliberately, then the mischief-maker inside her prompted her to go on. "And no, I don't do threesomes." Duncan exchanged an incredulous look with Joe, and then both of them burst out laughing, a bit nervously, but it was still laughter, and that was a vast improvement. She had to repress a smile at the simultaneous surge of interest she sensed from both of them. Even if she couldn't act on it, it was still flattering. Males. So predictable, no matter what the species. "That's better. But really, what are you so upset about? I'd hate to think all this--" she waved her hand vaguely in the air, "atmosphere-- was because of me." "No, not at all..." Joe began "Well, sort of..." Duncan said, simultaneously. Guinan sighed. "I guess I'd better give you two a chance to coordinate your stories, hunh? I'll be right back." She headed off in the direction of the ladies' room. Her hearing was good enough that she could still hear them from there. She hadn't been kidding when she said she came from a long line of listeners. "Well?" Joe said, after a moment. "Well what?" Duncan responded, sounding somewhat churlish. "Are you going to ask her?" "Ask her what, for God's sake? `Oh, by the way, are you somehow connected to this fiend who's been murdering my friends'? What sort of cretin do you think I am? I don't want to suspect her, I just don't know what to think after what I found out." The shock that went through her at Duncan's words kept her from hearing Joe's response. Murder? Well, that certainly explained the conversation she'd overheard outside the bar. But why would he think she might be involved? What could she have done to make him think such a thing? A wave of hurt surged through her, then she managed to push it back. He had followed the thought with an expression of concern. Whatever his suspicions, he was obviously disturbed by them. Feeling rather subdued, she went back out and joined them, looking from one unquestionably uncomfortable male to the other. "So," she started, knowing she would have to be the one to initiate this conversation. "Something's wrong, and it has to do with me. What is it?" "It's-- hard to explain," Duncan said, having trouble meeting her gaze. "Try. You know I'll listen, you know I won't judge." She gazed at him until he met her eyes. He looked into them a moment, then nodded. He thought for a moment, then began. "Remember the man I told you about last night?" Joe did a rapid double take at Duncan, who was watching Guinan and missed it. "Go on," she said, keeping her voice carefully even. "I think he may be killing again, killing friends of mine." She stiffened, outraged. "And you think that I..." she began, only to have him interrupt immediately. "No! I don't! I don't want to, anyway. But... Guinan, who are you? You're a mystery!" She went cold. He knew. Nonsense, he couldn't know. She took a deep breath. "I don't understand." "Because of what's happened, I started to wonder about you, about the timing. I asked some questions about you, and found nothing. You have no past. It's like you never existed until we met you. Who are you? What are you doing here?" Relief washed through her, intense and ecstatic. "Is that all?" Both of them looked surprised by her response. "What?" Duncan asked. "Is that all you're worried about?" "Well, yes." He admitted warily. She gave a silent prayer of thanks to a divinity this world had never created for having had the foresight to create a background that people could actually check out. It hadn't been all that hard, the computer systems on Earth were no match for hers, even though she'd never expected to have to use it. She glanced around and leaned forward confidentially. "Well, I will tell you who I am, and what I'm doing here, but you have to promise not to tell Danny or the other guys." "Danny? The guys?" Duncan asked, blankly. "Danny's the saxman in the band. I'm a cultural anthropologist, and I'm working on the subculture of jazz and blues musicians. If the guys find out who, or rather, what I am, it would skew my research. My real name is Guinan El-Aurian, you can check that out if you like. I guess I can't blame you for being suspicious, with someone like that psycho hunting you." "Anthropologist?" Joe asked, looking a bit stunned. "El-Aurian?" Duncan asked. "No wonder I didn't find anything under `Lawrence.'" She nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, it just never occurred to me that it might cause a problem." Duncan leaned against the counter with a sigh, his big body going almost boneless. "I canna tell you how relieved I am." "Sure you can. In fact, I'd like to hear it." "Why don't I show you instead?" he asked, and without warning enveloped her in a hug. She was startled, and momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer presence of him, then she managed to slam down her mental dampers and stop wallowing in him. Her nose was about even with his sternum. She hadn't realized that he was quite so... tall. Or was it that she was short? She patted him on the back in what she hoped was a friendly fashion, managing somehow not to move her hands down to a slightly lower portion of his anatomy, then stepped back. "That's better." She looked over at Joe expectantly. "Well?" He grinned and hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a hug. Joe was a couple of inches shorter than Duncan, but not a lot, her nose came just about to the same place on him. Before he let her go, he planted a quick kiss on her mouth. Duncan frowned, crossing his arms on his chest. "Not fair, Joe." Duncan said, shanking his head. "Don't be such an old fogey, Duncan." Joe returned, with peculiar emphasis. "I'm not!" "Are too." Joe retorted, chuckling, loosening his arms from around =========================================================================