Date:         Fri, 17 Nov 1995 14:22:01 -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, 9/21 (REPOST) ADULT

       "Thank you, Agent Scully.  Here's the situation as we've mapped it
out..."
       She listened intently as Bennett explained the layout of the
general area and the building they were going into.  She was troubled by
the proximity to water, knowing that if the suspect had a boat of some
sort moored nearby, he could escape them.  She made a mental note to watch
for that possibility.
       "Everyone ready?"  Bennett asked quietly.
       He was answered with chorus of affirmatives that made Scully smile.
It sounded like a high school locker-room before a big game.  As the other
law-enforcement personnel began to take up their positions, she followed
the SWAT team toward the warehouse, to the door nearest the blue car that
sat alone in the lot.  They took up positions to either side of the door,
and one of them looked at her, questioningly.  She nodded, and stepped
forward, her hand on the door handle.
       It turned beneath her hand, and Dana was startled to realize it was
unlocked.  Too easy!  A trap?  Cautiously she eased it open just a crack.
Inside, in the dimness, she saw a single shadowy figure pacing the floor.
He was facing partly away from her, but she could tell that he held a
weapon.  She could also see that he was not Mulder.  He was too short and
too stocky.  Holding a finger to her lips she eased the door open a tiny
bit further until she could see what he faced.  A puddle of light played
over the tableaux of figures on the floor.  One of them was stunningly
familiar, and she sucked in a silent gasp.  She would recognize that long,
rumpled figure anywhere.  Mulder!  Was he alive?  Hurt?  The only other
member of the trio she could see well was a black woman whose mouth was
covered with duct tape.  Scully winced in sympathy.  She knew what that
felt like.  The woman's eyes were open, and the periodic flicker of her
gaze as she followed her captor's movements told Scully she was alive and
aware.  She quietly pulled the door closed and turned to the man on her
left, the one who'd been pointed out at the SWAT team sharpshooter.  He
bent down so he could hear her whisper.
       "The man standing is our suspect, and he's armed, though I can't
tell what with.  There are three other people in there, on the floor.  At
least one of them is alive, though she seems to be restrained.  When we go
in, can you take out the suspect quickly so he can't turn on his
hostages?"
       The man grinned ferally.  "No problem, ma'am."
       Scully felt an utterly inappropriate desire to laugh at being
called "ma'am" but restrained herself.  She looked down the line of men
waiting for her move, and mouthed, "On three."
       They nodded, and she held up one finger, then two, then three.  On
the third, she threw open the door and charged in, followed by the swarm
of men in riot gear.
       "Federal agents!  Throw down your weapon!"
       The man spun to face them, an almost comical expression of surprise
on his face.  He focused on Scully, and his hands came up.  She realized
that what he held in his hands was a gun, not a knife.  She stiffened,
suddenly aware that she was in danger, and then Mulder moved in a fluid,
catlike lunge toward the suspect.  They were down on the floor in seconds,
and Scully swore in frustration.  The sharpshooter couldn't get a clear
shot now!
       A gunshot sounded, and she stiffened, half expecting one of the two
men to collapse, but neither did.  After a moment, the suspect managed to
free himself and he got to his knees, his gun aimed at Mulder's head.
Three nearly simultaneous reports shattered the air, and the man dropped
his weapon as crimson bloomed on his chest and back.  He touched his
fingers to the spreading wetness on his chest, and looked up, his
expression an odd combination of frustration and bewilderment.
       "But I wasn't finished yet..."  he said, quietly, then his eyes
rolled back and he tipped slowly sideways to lie unmoving on the floor.
Mulder kicked the man's gun out of reach and scrambled to his feet,
looking around at the men surrounding him.
       "Nice job on the reinforcements Scully."
       "It would have been if you hadn't decided to play the hero.  We had
a clear shot at him until then!"
       Mulder looked offended.  "So did he, directly at you; and you're
welcome."
       Scully gave him a grudging nod and knelt next to the suspect,
searching for a pulse.  There was none.  Not that she'd really expected
one.  She looked up and found Mulder helping one of the other two victims
sit up.  She recognized the bartender by his silver-shot dark hair.  His
shirt and jacket were streaked with blood from a wound on the back of his
head, and he looked pale and a bit woozy.
       "Get some paramedics in here!"  Dana snapped, and saw one of the
SWAT guys react and begin speaking into his walkie-talkie.  She moved to
Joe's side and examined him cursorily, relieved to see that the cut at
least was superficial.
       "I bet you have a hell of a headache,"  she said, commiserating.
"You should get that x-rayed.  It could be a concussion."
       He nodded, wincing, his gaze fixed the black woman.
       "I'm okay, I'm hard-headed.  But Guinan... I think that shot hit
her, I felt her jerk when the gun went off."
       Scully shifted her attention to the woman.  Mulder was carefully
peeling the duct tape from her mouth, and her dusky skin seemed to have
taken on an oddly ashen tone that Scully didn't like at all.
       "Where are you hurt?"  she asked, examining her, looking for the
telltale leakage of blood.  "That shot hit you, didn't it?"
       The woman nodded, her lower lip caught in her teeth.  After a
moment she sucked in a breath.  "It grazed my arm, that's all.  I'll be
okay.  Get my hands and feet free, please!  I've got to find Duncan and
help him!"
       "He's in no danger now, we killed the man who was holding you
hostage here."
       "You killed one of them, but not the really dangerous one.  Come
on, get me loose!"
       "One of them?"  Scully looked blankly at Mulder.  That was
something they hadn't even thought of.  "There are two of them?"
       The woman nodded frantically.  "Yes!  Damn it, let me go to him..."
       "Where did they go?"  Mulder asked calmly.
       "There..."  she nodded toward the west wall, the one that let out
onto the dock area.  "They're out there."  her gaze shifted to Mulder, and
her eyes seemed to hold his.  "I know they are, I can feel them.  I have
to help!  You've got to let me help."
       Scully was only half listening as she began to rip open the woman's
blood-soaked sleeve to bare the wound on her arm, but Joe's intense
response to that plea made her look up.
       "Guinan, no!  You don't know what you're doing.  Duncan doesn't
need any help!"
       "Yes he does!  You don't know what this guy is like!"
       "Yes, I do, and believe me, Duncan would not want help, especially
not you and a horde of cops!.  He can handle Dane."
       "No, he can't.  Dane's evil, Joe, like nothing I've ever met
before.  He's as dark as Duncan is light, maybe even more so.  He
might..."  she broke off and looked at Mulder.  "Go to him.  If you won't
let me help, you go.  Don't let him face the darkness alone."
       Something about her voice was incredibly compelling.  Mulder looked
at her, then at Scully.  He held out his hand.  She hesitated for a
moment, then she put her gun in his hand.  "Be careful this time."
       He nodded, and headed for the door.  Scully watched him, wondering
why on earth she had just handed him her gun, and why she was letting him
do this.  She started to call out, to tell the SWAT team to go after him,
but the woman put a hand on her arm.
       "Please, let him go alone.  It will be all right."
       Again Dana felt compelled to do as she'd been asked.  She settled
back down to examine the wound on the woman's arm.  It was just a graze,
but there was something odd about her blood, and look of the wound.  She
wished there were better light in the room, and that she had proper
equipment, but she didn't.  Where were the paramedics, for god's sake?
For lack of anything better, she folded a piece of the woman's ripped
sleeve into a pad which she held to the wound to stanch the bleeding.
       "How do you feel?"
       "Like I've been shot,"  Guinan said drily.  "But it's not that bad
now that I've gotten more accustomed to it.  I'll be fine."
       Dana studied her, noting that her color had improved somewhat.  She
nodded non-commitally.  "We'll let the paramedics make that determination
when they get here."
       Guinan stiffened suddenly.  "Paramedics?  No... I can't. I'm fine.
I don't need to be treated."
       Joe looked at her, annoyed.  "Don't be a damned martyr, Guinan.
Have it looked at.  I'm going to have my head examined... something people
are forever telling me I need to do,"  he said with a chuckle.  "I want to
make sure you're okay.  You shouldn't have been mixed up in this to begin
with."
       Guinan snorted.  "You can say that again.  But there's no need to
worry, everything is fine, I assure you.  Now would one of you please get
this damned tape off me?"
       Joe nodded and dug a folding knife from his pocket, which he opened
and used carefully to slice through the tough silvery tape.  Guinan
stretched her legs, then flexed her arms, hissing slightly in pain from
the wound.  Suddenly she turned toward the far wall, as if she could
somehow see through it.  "Quiet... let me hear..."
       Hear what, Dana wondered, unable to hear anything but the SWAT
guys.  She vaguely thought she ought to be concerned about Mulder being
out there with a killer, but it was just a stray thought.  She returned to
what she was doing.

                                     ****

       Mulder moved quietly and quickly around behind the building to a
dock-like area.  He stopped, staring at the two figures he saw.  One was
the guy in photograph that Bennett had shown him, Duncan MacLeod.  The
other was slighter, better dressed, and completely unfamiliar.  It
certainly wasn't Nash.  It must be the man that Guinan had called "Dane."
The one she had said was the `dangerous one.' They were fencing.  No, he
corrected himself, they were fighting.  This was no genteel match with
button-tipped foils, this was a lethal fight.  He watched for a moment,
trying to figure out if he could get a shot off without accidentally
hitting the wrong duelist.  How many times had this scene been played out
throughout MacLeod's lifetime, and how long had that lifetime had been?
Decades, centuries, millennia?  The smaller man circled MacLeod, who
turned with him, waiting, watching.  He struck suddenly, and MacLeod
brought his blade up and blocked the cut.  Dane turned and struck out
again with astonishing speed, and they engaged again.
       It was clear that MacLeod was stronger and better-trained than
Dane, however Dane seemed to have the advantage of speed.  As Mulder
watched, MacLeod managed to bring his sword in under Dane's and parried it
with a circular motion that neatly disarmed his opponent.  Dane stood
there for a moment, looking utterly stunned, then as MacLeod drew back the
katana for the final blow, Dane slowly began to smile.  His smile was both
knowing, and unnerving, and MacLeod stopped, eyes narrowed. Mulder raised
his gun and started to step forward, but stopped as MacLeod spoke.  He
wanted to hear what they had to say, and he could wait a moment to declare
his presence.
       "What?"  MacLeod growled.
       "It won't do any good for you to kill me, you know."
       "What are you talking about?"
       "Your friends are dead anyway, you know that.  Conroy took care of
them, you heard those shots."
       MacLeod's stance shifted slightly, angling toward the warehouse,
though still keeping Dane in his field of vision.  Dane's words obviously
disturbed him.  MacLeod was clearly weighing his options, and Dane took
advantage of the momentary pause to dart to the side and pick up his
sword.  MacLeod reacted to the threat by bringing up the tip of his blade,
but he didn't attack.
       "Conroy?  What's your Watcher got to do with this?"
       Dane chuckled.  "Everything.  It's him you know, not me.  He's been
killing them."
       "Tell me another one!"  MacLeod scoffed.
       "But it's true, he's trying to become one of us!"
       MacLeod scowled.  "Don't be ridiculous.  That's impossible.  You
have to be born an immortal!"
       "He doesn't know that.  It was remarkably easy to convince him
otherwise."
       "You told him he could become an Immortal by killing us?"  MacLeod
asked incredulously.
       "Oh, not just us, anyone.  I told him that it's how we all got to
be what we are.  I told him that there was a critical threshold of deaths
that it would take, and he's been trying faithfully to reach that goal.
It's a shame he won't get the reward he's been seeking.  He's been such a
good disciple.  Who shall we go after next, hmmm?  How about... what's his
name... Richie?"
       "Damn it, Dane!  What do you want?"  MacLeod's voice was harsh with
anger.
       "Right this moment?  Oh, watching the expression on your face when
you walk into that warehouse would be nice.  Perhaps they're not quite
dead yet... lying there bleeding, dying, as we fight."  He chuckled.
"What a delightful thought.  Eventually, I want your head, of course.
Give me your blade and perhaps I'll let Richie live... for now."
       MacLeod's expression fairly reeked of disgust.  "You're sick, Dane,
you always were, however I think you'll leave him alone if I take your
head.  I can handle Conroy."
       Dane grinned.  "A child could handle Conroy, I, on the other hand,
won't be so easy."  He lunged toward MacLeod, who swore and barely managed
to block a sweeping upward slash from below that made Mulder flinch in
masculine sympathy.  That had been awfully close to the family jewels.
Dane seemed maniacal in his intensity, coming after him with grim
determination.  MacLeod blocked, and blocked, time after time, and began
to maneuver himself toward the edge of the dock.  Mulder wondered if he
was planning a dive into the river in order to escape.  Dane suddenly
seemed to realize what he was doing, for he moved between MacLeod and the
water.
       "Oh no you don't!  I've waited far too long for this!"

       Dane cut low, and MacLeod blocked.  Their swords rang with the
clash of steel on steel, and before MacLeod could recover, Dane stepped
back, disengaging, and lashed out with his blade laying open MacLeod's
chest and abdomen in a diagonal slash.  Mulder saw the bigger man stagger
back, moving sluggishly, as if badly hurt.  Dane grinned and drew back his
own sword to strike.  It was now or never.  Mulder stepped out of the
shadows and drew a bead on Dane, Scully's Sig-Sauer held in both hands for
stability.
       "FBI!  Drop your weapons!"
       Dane turned and saw him, cursed roughly and moved to complete his
stroke.
       "I said drop your weapons!"  Mulder shouted again, louder.
       MacLeod did as he'd been ordered, simultaneously hitting the ground
and rolling to avoid Dane's weapon as it came down.  Mulder's finger
tightened on the trigger, and a single shot shattered the stillness.
       Dane jerked backward, a grimace of pain on his face as his sword
fell from nerveless fingers.  A bright stain appeared on his right
shoulder, just below the collarbone.  He stared at MacLeod for a moment,
his face feral with hatred, then he turned and let himself fall.  A splash
came a few seconds later.  MacLeod cursed soundly, and looked over the
edge.  Mulder moved warily to join him, and saw no sign of Dane.
       "Damn, we'll have to drag the river."
       MacLeod looked at him, and he saw recognition in his face.  He must
have recognized him from Joe's earlier in the day.  He looked back at the
dark surface of the water, and shook his head.
       "You won't find a body,"  he said flatly.
       Mulder let out his breath, suddenly aware he'd been holding it.
"Somehow I knew you were going to say that."
       "Then you should have let me take him."
       "From where I stood, it looked more like he was about to take you."
       "That was deliberate."
       Mulder studied him a moment, seeing the truth of that in his eyes,
then sighed.  "This seems to be my day for getting in the way.  I'm Fox
Mulder, FBI."
       There was a surreal quality to the moment, introducing himself as
if they'd met at a party, but MacLeod took the hand that was extended to
him.
       "Duncan MacLeod."
       "I know."
       MacLeod smiled dryly.  "Somehow I knew you were going to say that,"
he said, echoing Mulder's earlier words.
       Mulder acknowledged him with an amused glance.  "Scully talked to
you, then?"
       "She did.  She knew a few things that surprised me.  You people
don't strike me as the type who'd be interested in us."
       Mulder laughed silently.  "You'd probably be surprised at what
interests us.  But in this case, it was logical.  We were tracking an
interstate killer."
       "Ah, yes.  That explains some of it."
       MacLeod stared, unseeing, at the water, and Mulder wondered what he
was thinking.
       "I don't suppose you'd care to give me some details on him; his
name, where he lives, that sort of thing?"  he prompted quietly.
       "It wouldn't do you any good.  He can change them more easily than
you can imagine."
       "Still, it would be nice to be able to make a complete report."
       "Frankly, I'd prefer it stay incomplete."
       Mulder's eyebrows lifted.
       MacLeod grinned ingratiatingly.  "Does your report have to mention
me?"
       Mulder chuckled.  "D'you think I could convince Scully you're a
figment of her imagination?"  He paused a moment, reading MacLeod's
expression, and shook his head with a slight smile.  "I didn't think so
either.  Honestly, I don't think anyone ever reads my reports anyway, but
in any case, it's clear from what I saw, and what I was told by your
friends, that you're a victim here, not a perpetrator.  However, we seem
to have a plethora of victims, and I can probably get one of them to tell
me about this guy if you won't."
       MacLeod's head snapped up, his eyes searching.  "My friends?  Joe?
Guinan?  They're alive?"
       Mulder remembered what Dane had told MacLeod, and realized he must
have thought them dead.  He nodded.
       "I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier.  They're fine.  My
partner brought the cavalry.  She's good at that."
       "Where are they?"
       "Inside with Scully.  She's showing off her doctoring skills at the
moment.  Your friend Guinan insisted I come out here and give you a hand."
       Duncan eyed him narrowly.  "Doctoring skills?  I thought you said
they were fine!"
       "They are, mostly.  They're a bit banged up,"  Mulder gingerly
touched the back of his head.  "But then, so am I."  His gaze fell to the
bloody slash in MacLeod's shirt and he nodded toward it.  "And so are you.
You might want to get that taken care of."
       MacLeod glanced down, smiling slightly.  "There's no need."
       Mulder's eyes narrowed as he realized there was no wound beneath
the slash.  He stared for a long moment, then lifted his gaze to
MacLeod's.
       "That must be handy."
       "On occasion.  It can also be very problematic."
       "Yes, I'd imagine it would.  I'm sure there are a lot of people
who'd like to know what makes you tick."  He paused, thinking of his own
experiences.  "A lot of not-very-nice people."
       "Exactly.  So you can see why I'd rather avoid any mention of it in
your report."
       Mulder nodded.  "There are... aspects of the case I don't have to
report in as much detail as others."
       A noise from behind them brought Mulder's attention around, and
when he turned back, he gestured at MacLeod's sword.  "I think you'd
better put that away before someone besides me sees it.  I think the
reinforcements are about to descend."
       MacLeod nodded and slipped his sword into concealment beneath his
coat, buttoning it to hide the slash in his shirt.  "You're not at all
what I expected out of an FBI agent."
       Mulder gazed for a moment at the dark water below the dock, and
then turned, his expression wry.  "I don't think I'm quite what the FBI
expected out of an FBI agent either."

                                ****

       "Guinan, Joe!  Thank God!  I was afraid you were dead!"
       Guinan looked up to find Duncan standing over her.  She'd been so
distracted by Scully's fussing over her arm that she hadn't realized he'd
come into the warehouse with the other FBI agent.  She'd known he was
safe, she'd felt his presence strongly, while Dane's presence had faded
and disappeared; but still she felt a rush of relief at the sight of him.
She saw the same emotion echoed on Duncan's expressive face.  She pulled
away from Scully and wrapped one arm around Joe and the other around
Duncan, ignoring the fiery protest from her wound, and just held on.  She
realized a moment later that she wasn't the only one who was shaking.
They stood like that for several moments, then finally she let them go.
       "Don't you guys ever scare me like that again!" she admonished
them.
       "Me?"  Duncan said, with mock offense.  "What about you?  How did
this happen?"
       She felt a blush burning her cheeks and was glad her dark skin hid
that from them.  "He must have followed me from the bar.  He and his
friend snatched me right off the sidewalk.  I've been one of those `never
thought it could happen to me' types.  I guess it's time to take some
self- defense classes."
       "I'd say so!"  He looked at Joe with concern.  "Joe, do you feel as
bad as you look?"
       Joe chuckled.  "Nah, I'm okay, but they want me to go get an x-ray
to be sure."
       "Do it.  Concussion's nothing to fool around with."  Duncan's gaze
returned to Guinan.  "What happened to your arm?"  He hadn't missed her
wince as she lowered her arm, or her torn sleeve.
       "Don't worry about me, it's just a scratch,"  she chuckled, relief
making her feel a bit giddy. "You know, I've always wanted to say that."
       "I can't say that I'm glad you got the opportunity.  You should
have that looked at, too."
       "It's nothing."
       "It is just a graze, but it could easily get infected.  Definitely
have it treated."  Scully put in from the sidelines where she'd been
watching them with an amused expression.  Her gaze shifted to Duncan.
"So, you were coming here after all."
       MacLeod looked at her innocently.  "Me?  I was just in the
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