Date:         Fri, 17 Nov 1995 12:22:43 -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, 8/21 (REPOST) ADULT

and sketched a quick grid.
       "This is us..."  she made an `x' on the map, then drew some arrows.
"You go like this, see?"
       He studied the map and nodded.  "I do, thanks!  He turned the map
over, studied the menu printed on the other side, and inhaled deeply.  "Is
the food as good as it smells?"
       She grinned.  "Better."
       "Then I might see you later, thanks."
       It didn't take him long to find the maze of old, run-down buildings
along the river, using the cashier's map.  Some were in decent shape, many
had `For Sale' signs on them, others just looked abandoned.  The whole
area looked ripe for redevelopment.  In a couple of years it wouldn't
surprise him to find the warehouses converted into posh apartments and
lofts whose lower floors housed restaurants and art galleries.  He drove
slowly up and down the little side streets and parking lots, looking for
the car he'd followed.  He was about to give up in disgust when he noticed
something blue sticking out from behind a trash dumpster.  He pulled in
far enough to see that it was the right car, then backed up and parked a
building away.  He took out his cellular and dialed Scully.  She picked it
up on the third ring.
       "Scully."
       "It's Mulder.  I've followed our bartender and some friend of his
to an old warehouse.  It's down south, right on the Duwamish river, the
address is... hold on..."  He walked around to the front of the building
and read it off to her.  "From what I managed to overhear, we have a
hostage situation on our hands.  I'm going to check it out."
       "Mulder, don't you dare go in there without backup!"
       Even over the tinny speaker of the cellular he could hear the
threat in her voice.  He grinned.
       "Don't worry, I'm just going to snoop around outside."
       "You shouldn't even do that!  I'll call this in and we'll have a
team there in just a few minutes, so just wait, okay?"
       Mulder muttered something noncommittal into the phone and turned it
off, putting it in his overcoat pocket.  Unsnapping his holster, he drew
his gun, its weight reassuring in his hand.  He made his way over to the
dumpster, and came out from behind it, covering the car.  It was empty.
He circled it, looking for any sign of where the occupants had gone, and a
dark splotch on the pavement near the driver's side door caught his eye.
He knelt, trying to see better.  In the fading light he couldn't tell if
it was water, antifreeze, oil, or something more sinister.  He took a
pencil out of his pocket and touched the eraser to one edge of the stain.
It came away a deep, glistening, red that didn't smell of paint or
petroleum.
       A few feet away he saw a strip of something that gleamed with a
silvery sheen.  His eyes narrowed.  Duct tape.  Several of the victims had
been bound with duct tape.  He stood and studied the building in front of
him carefully, and saw that there were windows up high on the sides, and a
fire escape depended from one.  He headed for it, walking quickly but
quietly.  He didn't have time to wait for Scully and the cavalry; events
were already in progress.

                                     ****

       It was damp, chilly, and dark.  The light that filtered through the
dirty and broken windows held the bluish tinge of twilight.  The few
lights that burned in the cavernous structure cast pools of yellow on the
floor around them, but their light didn't reach much further.  Guinan
shivered, feeling cold in more than just her body.  Should she do it now?
It was not as easy to voluntarily give up life as she'd thought it would
be, even when it was the right thing to do.  She looked around the
warehouse, listening hard for any sign that her captors were returning.
She heard the faint sounds of the mice and birds who inhabited the
building, the liquid susurration of the river outside, the faint sounds of
traffic in the distance; but nothing further.  The silence was both
soothing and frightening.  Why had they left her here?  Where had they
gone?
       She let her head drop back against the wall and sighed.  The blond
man had removed her gag once they'd reached the warehouse, apparently it
didn't matter if she screamed here.  They must know there was no one near
to hear her.  A change in traffic noise brought her head up again.
Something was different, closer... she heard the crunch of tires on
gravel, the sound of a brake being set, then the engine sounds ceased.
She stiffened.  Were they back?  The engine hadn't had the same throaty
purr as the one she'd ridden in, so it was a different car, at least.
That didn't mean it wasn't them.  She listened harder, straining to hear,
though the source of the sounds was at the limit of her ability to resolve
clearly.  She heard a car door open, then another one.
       "You're sure it was here you saw her?"  a man asked.
       The voice was rough-edged and familiar.  A sense of profound relief
flooded her as she realized it was Joe.  She drew breath to call out, but
was silenced by the second voice.
       "Yes, it was here.  He took her inside."
       Shock replaced relief.  The second man's voice was also familiar,
but it wasn't Duncan's rolling baritone.  It was a slightly nasal tenor...
the blond.  With Joe?  Was Joe somehow involved in this?  Had she trusted
someone she shouldn't have?  Impossible!  Her empathy might be slight, but
it was good enough to tell friend from foe!
       "I'll let Duncan know."  Joe said, then she heard a series of small
clicks and tones, and Joe was speaking again, reeling off the address
before saying "Hurry."
       There was a moment of quiet, then he spoke again, obviously to his
companion, not into the phone
       "He's on his way."
       "Good.  That's two down, one to go."
       "What's that supposed..."  Joe's question was cut off by a dull
thud and a moan.  Guinan tensed and tried to stand, but couldn't.  Her
bound feet and hands made it impossible.  She strained to hear more, but
it was hard to hear anything other than her own pounding heart, then the
door of the warehouse opened.  She watched the blond drag a limp form into
the building, maneuvering him over to where she sat against the wall.  As
they neared, she saw that as she'd feared, the slack figure was Joe
Dawson, and his shirt was stained red from a wound on the back of his
head.
       "Here, I brought you some company,"  he said with a brief,
humorless smile.  "You two can have a nice conversation."
       He let go of Joe, who began to crumple slowly.  She scooted quickly
to one side and managed to partially break his fall, at least so his head
didn't hit the concrete floor.  Whatever damage the other man had done, it
didn't need to be complicated by a second blow to the head.  She could
feel a warm wetness soaking through the fabric of her leggings where Joe's
head rested against her thigh.  He was still bleeding.  She managed to
grab the collar of his shirt in her fingers and shifted him forward until
she could use her bound wrists to apply pressure against the wound behind
his ear.
       "You might as well not bother,"  the blond said.  "It won't matter
in the long run anyway.
       She looked up at him, furiously.  "It might not matter to you, but
it does to me!  This man is my friend!"
       The blond seemed disturbed.  "I thought he was mine, but a friend
wouldn't have lied to me.  Not about something this important."
       "I don't believe you!  Joe's one of the most honest men I know!"
       "I thought so too, but I was wrong.  I suppose it's okay if you do
that, since he has to live long enough for me to..."  he stopped himself
and sighed.  "Well, he told me it would only take a few more."
       "A few more what?"
       "Deaths."
       "To do what?"
       He looked at her as if she were simpleminded.  "To become one of
Them, of course."
       "Them?"  she prodded, trying to keep him talking.  If she could
just figure out what drove him, what his compulsion was, she could weave
the right words around him to temper it and perhaps persuade him to let
them go.
       "You know, an Im...."
       Guinan stopped listening.  He was here.  Dane.  She could feel him,
as if a yawning, cavernous darkness had just opened up beneath her feet.
She shuddered involuntarily, every part of her being rejecting what he
was.
       "You talk too much, Conroy.  It's a fault common to the inept and
insecure."
       The voice was cool and cultured.  A man walked out of the darkness
at the doorway, and for the first time Guinan saw the physical aspect of
the thing that was Tanner Dane.  He was not a tall man, but neat, and
well-kept.  He looked to be in his mid-forties, with hair as blond as
Conroy's, save for a frost of silver at the temples.  He wore an expensive
European-cut overcoat, and looked like a someone you might see every day
in a bank or law firm.  At first glance he didn't look like a vicious
killer, or a man who took pleasure in torture, but one look into his eyes
betrayed him.  They were cold and blue-white, like a dog's eyes, not a
man's; and there was no soul to be seen in them.  He stared down at her,
his lip faintly curled.
       "I can't say MacLeod's taste has improved over the years if you're
any example.  But then, it hardly matters what I think.  There's something
about you, though-- you're not One, nor will you be, but there is...
something interesting."
       Guinan felt his cold mental fingers probing, trying to find cracks
in her armor and slide within.  She reinforced her mental barriers with
every scrap of will she possessed.  Whatever this thing was, it wouldn't
get into her!  Of the few humans she'd met who possessed operant
faculties, his were the most powerful she'd come across.  He kept trying
for several minutes, until she was sure she couldn't hold out against him
any longer, then finally he gave up.  She sagged, half-exhausted from the
effort of holding him off.  It was fortunate that he didn't really seem to
know how to use his mental abilities, or she would not have been able to
resist.  He looked annoyed.
       "Well, whatever it is, I suppose it doesn't matter any more.  Evan,
I found someone outside looking around.  Would you be good enough to fetch
him in?  I'm afraid he's not up to walking."
       Conroy looked frightened.  "Someone snooping?  Why?  Who is he?"
       Dane shrugged.  "I've no idea.  He looked quite ordinary, save for
these,"  he reached into his pockets and brought out a rather large gun,
and a cellular telephone.  "I thought it might be better if he were in
with us rather than out there potentially causing problems.  Now go get
him before he comes to.  And bring the tape."
       After Conroy had gone, Dane prodded Joe with an expensive Italian
loafer, and shook his head when there was no response.
       "Too bad, it's so much more fun when they're awake when he does
it."
       Fun?  Guinan shuddered, then it hit her.  This was her chance!  She
wasn't gagged, and she was alone with him!  She looked up, locking her
gaze with his.
       "Let us go!"  Even in her own ears, her voice was oddly resonant
and seemed to echo in the darkness.  Dane's eyes glazed slightly.
       "Let us go,"  Guinan repeated, lowering the tone, lacing it with
compulsion.
       He took a step forward, then suddenly the glazed look disappeared,
and he straightened, looking around sharply, as if he'd heard something.
A few seconds later, she felt a familiar, seductive brilliance.  Duncan
was somewhere nearby.  Damn!  She had meant to be gone before this!  But
how could she go now, and leave Joe defenseless?  At least alive she could
try to control Dane and Conroy.  It would be wrong to simply abandon Joe
to them to save herself a few moments of pain!
       Dane opened his coat and drew a sword from beneath it, a deadly,
gleaming length of blue-gray steel.  She tensed and leaned forward, hoping
she could protect Joe, but Dane ignored her, and strode quickly away
toward the door.  Conroy appeared in it, dragging another limp body into
the warehouse.  He dumped the man beside her and she studied him, her eyes
widening.  It was the guy she'd seen outside Joe's earlier that day, the
cop!  If he was here, maybe his partner was too!  She felt a surge of
hope.  Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to get out of this alive.
       "Conroy, let us go!"  Guinan whispered, hoping he would be easier
to control.
       From the doorway Dane looked back at her, his eyes narrowed.
       "Shut her up.  There's something strange about her voice."
       "No!"  she cried out, turning her head from side to side to avoid
Conroy's hands.  He played the game for a few moments, then tired of it
and backhanded her.  She tasted blood in her mouth from the blow, and
stunned, she stilled to let her head stop reeling.  Conroy took advantage
of her stillness to plaster a strip of duct tape across her mouth.  She
subsided, defeated.  Next to her, she saw the cop stir slightly, his
eyelids fluttering.  She hoped Conroy hadn't noticed.
       "Are you ready, Conroy?"
       "I am."
       "I hardly think so.  Where's your blade?"
       Conroy flushed like a schoolboy caught without his homework.  "In
the car."
       "Well get it.  MacLeod's near, I feel him.  I'll bring him here,
but he must watch you do it or the Change cannot happen."
       At his words an eager, avid look flashed over Conroy's face, and he
almost ran for the door.  What the hell did he think would happen if he
kept killing people?  She wished she'd paid more attention to what Conroy
had been saying just before Dane had appeared.  He'd said something about
becoming `One.' One what?  Was this some sort of bizarre initiation
ritual?
       The cop moaned softly, and she stared at him, willing him to
silence.  If they thought he was unconscious they might leave him unbound.
As if he'd understood, he quieted, but his eyes opened.  She saw him
slowly become aware of his surroundings, but he didn't stir.  Only his
eyes moved, tracking as much as he could see of the room from his prone
position.  His gaze passed Joe's unconscious form, then moved higher and
met hers.  His eyes widened, taking in the tape across her mouth, then
dropping to her bound wrists.  He started to speak, but she shook her head
minutely, and looked over toward the door, warning plain in her gaze.  His
eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak.
       In her lap, Joe stirred and groaned.  Couldn't these guys keep
quiet?
 Lifting her hands from his head, she was reassured to see that the
bleeding seemed to have stopped.  He groaned again, and she put her
fingers over his lips, pressing gently.  The cop made a quiet "ssssshhh"
sound.  Joe opened his eyes and looked up, obviously confused and in pain.
He opened his mouth, saw the tape on hers, and closed it again.  Slowly he
lifted his head until he could see more of the room, and she felt him
tense.  He let his head fall back, and winced in pain.
       "Hurry up!"  Dane called out.  Guinan looked over to see him step
aside to allow Conroy back into the room, this time carrying a sword in
his hand.  He looked awkward with it, ill-at-ease.
       "Good.  I'll get MacLeod.  Keep them until I return."
       Conroy nodded and walked toward them, sword in hand.  He stopped
several feet away, and set it down on a steel drum, then drew his gun
again.  Obviously he felt more at home with the latter, as he handled it
easily.
       "Enjoying your little party?"  he asked archly, in a way that made
her skin crawl.  "It can't be every day you have two men at your feet."
       Frustration rose inside her.  She wanted to stop him, but how, when
her only weapon had been taken from her!  Arrogantly, she had never
thought it necessary to learn some of the self-defense skills other
Visitors had advised her to learn.  She'd always had so much confidence in
her ability to keep everything under control that she had simply hadn't
bothered.  Now she regretted that bitterly.  If she could have avoided
being taken in the first place, she could have warned Joe and Duncan, and
this whole thing wouldn't be happening!  It was her fault!  She couldn't
stand to look at Conroy, or at Joe, so she closed her eyes, hoping no one
would notice she was crying.

                                     ****

       Duncan found the address Joe had phoned him with.  It was the right
place.  He could feel Dane, the peculiar chill of his presence was
immediately recognizable.  He got out of the car and retrieved his sword,
its familiar heft reassuring in his hand.  He felt the heady rush of
adrenaline flood him as he readied for battle.  He wanted Dane so badly he
could taste it.  Only a few times in his life had he wanted to hurt
someone this badly.  Kern, Durgin, Daimler, Kalas....  He was filled with
a cold, calm fury that would accept no less than Dane's ultimate death.
       He moved away from the car toward the building, feeling the
sensation of presence strengthen.  Yes, this way.  Dane was here, inside.
Duncan padded toward the door, feet soundless on the pavement, every sense
focused.  He saw the door swing open and froze in place, waiting.  Dane
emerged.  He still looked as he had the last time, immaculately dressed,
perfectly groomed, cold as ice.  He studied Duncan coolly, then brought up
his sword in salute.
       "MacLeod.  It's good to see you again."
       "You'll forgive me if I don't echo the sentiment."
       "It's not entirely unexpected, no, but I am glad to see you.  If
you hadn't come, I would have been very disappointed, after all the
trouble I've gone to."
       Duncan didn't pretend not to know what Dane meant.  "Why, Dane?
Why kill my friends?  Why kill Watchers for God's sake?"
       "The friend of my enemy is my enemy.  By taking them, I weaken you.
The Watchers were just for fun, once I found out what they were.  How
better to bait my trap than with mortals, your biggest weakness?  I've
always said your boy-scout ethics would one day get you killed, and I plan
to prove myself right."
       "You can try."  Duncan said, smiling.  He stood at ease, his sword
down, as if completely relaxed.  He thought he saw the shadow of a frown
crease Dane's forehead, but it was gone so quickly he couldn't be sure.
The man went on, clearly trying to get a reaction.
       "You know, I wouldn't have found you if you didn't make a habit of
befriending mortals.  I overheard one of your myriad mortal proteges
mention your name and grew curious.  By the time I'd finished with her, I
knew all about you, where you live, what you do.  Interestingly, she also
knew about us."
       Duncan stifled the urge to go for him then, knowing that was what
his opponent wanted, to provoke an attack out of anger.  He somehow
managed not to ask who it had been.  Dane waited a moment, then lifted an
eyebrow.
       "What, not curious?  I'm surprised."
       Duncan shrugged.  "You've killed so many it hardly matters."
       "Oh, she's not dead."  Dane grinned mirthlessly.  "Ms. Lord will
probably live a long, long time.  She simply may not enjoy it as she might
have.  She was a lovely woman."
       Was?  Duncan remembered Rebecca's darkly beautiful face, her
bravery, intensity, and grace; and tried not to imagine those things
destroyed as was Dane's wont.  One more reason to make sure Dane couldn't
harm anyone else.  He schooled his voice to nonchalance and looked around,
pointedly.
       "Are we going to stand around all day and chat?"
       Dane bared his teeth.  "If you're so anxious for it, by all means,
let us lay on, however, brawling in parking lots really isn't my style.
       "Why is that?"  Duncan asked with a lifted eyebrow.  "No place to
hide?"
       Dane took a swing at him, a badly placed, off-balance swing.
Duncan didn't even have to step back to get out of the way.  He grinned.
       "Is that the best you can do?  I wanted to enjoy this fight."  He
brought his sword up and took a step forward.  To his complete amazement,
Dane didn't engage him, instead, he turned and ran.  After a moment of
surprise, Duncan took off after him.

                                     ****

       Dana Scully had that feeling again, the one she got whenever Mulder
was in trouble.  She hated that feeling.  Why hadn't he called her back?
What was wrong?  She noticed the light ahead turning yellow and pulled up
to the stop-bar, tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as
she consulted the map spread over the seat next to her.  From the looks of
it, she was getting close.  `Damn it, Mulder,' she thought.  `Would you
please call?'
       She'd already requested back-up, asking for the response to be
silent.  If there really was a hostage situation, coming in with lights
and sirens would only exacerbate it.  A black and white pulled up on her
left, and she glanced over to see Bennett's familiar face in the passenger
seat.  He nodded grimly at her, pointing ahead, and as the light turned
green she let the marked car pull ahead to lead the way.  Much easier than
a map.
       Bennett's car led her through a maze of turns to a run-down wharf
and warehouse district.  As they did, two more black and white units, a
SWAT team van, and four cars with government plates fell in with them.
She nodded with satisfaction; good back-up.
       They all converged in the parking lot of a building two doors away
from the target address Mulder had given her.  As she got out of the car,
she realized suddenly that the maroon Taurus at the curb was the one
Mulder had been driving.  Quickly she went to it, and as she had expected,
it was empty.  Nothing about it looked suspicious or unusual, except that
Mulder was nowhere in sight.  She knew with a peculiar certainty that he
was in that warehouse with the suspect.  She just didn't know what sort of
shape he was in.  Bennett gestured her over to where he was standing.
There were four men wearing baseball jackets emblazoned with the letters
FBI.  One of them held a similar jacket and a kevlar vest out to her.
       "Agent Scully, as the agent of record, can you tell us something
about what we've got here?."
       She buckled the vest on over her suit, pulled on the jacket, and
nodded, looking around at the assembled men.
       "We have a hostage situation, and the suspect involved is probably
armed and highly dangerous.  We have reason to believe he has already
killed at least fifteen people, possibly more.  He kills with an edged
weapon of some type, but he may also carry a gun.  The killer is probably
delusional, thinking he is some sort of superbeing who can't be killed by
ordinary means.  Though that's clearly impossible, the human mind is a
powerful thing and because of his delusion he may be very hard to bring
down."  She paused a moment, then took a breath and went on, saying the
thing she really hadn't wanted to admit, even to herself..
       "There is one other thing... my partner, Agent Mulder, contacted me
from this location nearly half an hour ago.  He was going in to try to
find out whether the man actually has hostages, but he has not contacted
me since then, so I must assume at this point that he is... unable to do
so.  Exercise extreme caution, and be prepared to defend yourselves."
       She saw almost no fear on the faces around her, just determination.
She felt the same way herself, though there was a small knot below her
sternum that would expand if she let herself think about it.  Bennett
stepped forward.
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