Date: Thu, 6 Jul 1995 15:59:06 -0500 Reply-To: kellie , Julia Kosatka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Julia Kosatka Subject: In the Dark, part 11/17 The voice from behind her had been preceded by an almost overwhelming sense of *presence*. Deanna turned to see who that sensation, and the beautifully accented baritone belonged to, and found herself gaping. He was a big man, olive-skinned and dark haired. He had beautiful dark eyes, and a mouth that made her think of candle-lit bedrooms and satin sheets. He was smiling at Guinan in a way that certainly explained what had prompted her sudden transformation! Before Deanna could gather her wits, his eyes narrowed and the teasing smile on his face faded as his skin turned chalky-pale. "Thalassa?" he asked, looking and sounding as if he'd seen a ghost. Deanna felt a wave of emotions from him; fear, surprise, elation, loss, guilt. It was physically *painful* to feel what he was going through, and it had come as too much of a surprise to put up shields against. She put out a hand as if to bodily push him away. "Please, stop. I can't-- it hurts!" He stepped back, still looking stunned, and the sensations faded somewhat. She relaxed a little, rubbing her temples. "Thank you, that helps." "You're Betazoid." he said, realization dawning as he looked at her dark-in-dark eyes. "God, I'm sorry! I didn't realize! It's just that you look so much like her! I'm afraid it was kind of a shock." "Her?" Guinan asked, her voice sounding rather odd. "The woman you..." her question trailed off but it was clear he knew what she meant. He nodded. "Yes. Her." The guilt-feelings strengthened and Deanna flinched. Guinan stepped forward and put out her hand, gently touching his arm. "Duncan, you know it wasn't your fault." He swallowed hard and nodded slowly, and the feelings subsided to a more manageable level, leaving behind melancholy and resignation in their wake. He shook it off enough to turn to Deanna, his expression concerned. "I'm sorry I hurt you, but for just a moment I thought you were someone I-- lost, a long time ago. You could be her twin." "It's all right, you couldn't have known I was an empath, and you were obviously surprised by my appearance. I'm Deanna Troi, I'm the ship's counselor." He took her hand and briefly brushed his lips across it. She shivered pleasantly, thinking she could do with more of that. But no, this one was off-limits. The last person she'd want to offend was Guinan. "I'm Duncan MacLeod, pilot, late of the Darius." As he introduced himself, she realized he was the man they'd rescued from the crashed ship. "You're an old friend of Guinan's?" she asked, trying to steer the conversation to less painful subjects. "What a coincidence that we should be the ones to find you!" "Aye... I didn't even know she was still alive." He exchanged a warmly amused glance with Guinan. "Nor I him." Guinan echoed, that same amusement lacing her tones. "Are you El-Aurian too?" Duncan looked at Guinan again, smiling as if they shared a secret, and slowly shook his head. "No, I'm human, born and raised on Earth." Deanna thought that highly unlikely, but she didn't call him on it. He certainly didn't *feel* human. He was far too intense. Still, she realized with a start that he hadn't been lying about being born and raised on Earth. Maybe he was half-human, like herself. "So, why does Dr. Crusher want to see you?" "She's afraid I might have been injured in the crash. I've assured her that I'm fine, but she'd rather see for herself." "That *is* her job." Deanna pointed out, defending her friend. "It is, but I'm not one of her crew." "True," she admitted, though in actuality she suspected it was because he knew Beverly would see right through his little pretense of being human. Ordinarily that attempted deception would send out warning flags all over the place, but she trusted Guinan to know friend from foe. Whatever reason he had for his masquerade, she knew Guinan wouldn't let him endanger the ship or its crew. It made her faintly uncomfortable to be party to his subterfuge, no matter how innocent it might be, but she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt for now. "Would you like to join me? I was about to have dinner." He shook his head. "No, thanks, I've eaten, but I appreciate the offer. Guinan, can I have a word with you?" She nodded and they moved away together to the far end of the bar where no one sat, speaking quietly. Deanna toyed momentarily with the idea of trying to probe the newcomer further, then thought better of it. She had to trust Guinan in this. She looked around the room, and noticed that other people appeared interested in Guinan and her companion as well. That was not really surprising. Guinan's metamorphosis was nothing short of amazing, and Duncan MacLeod was, quite frankly, beautiful. It would be hard *not* to notice them. A familiar figure strode through the doors and she lifted a hand to wave Worf over, then stopped. He looked like a thundercloud, and his gaze was focused on MacLeod. Uh-oh. Trouble. She watched him march across the room toward his quarry, and decided maybe she was needed there, if only because she had a calming influence on Worf. She stood and hurried across to join them. "Mr. MacLeod," Worf rumbled, at his most formal, and most menacing. "You brought *weapons* aboard this ship without notifying me," MacLeod turned from his conversation with Guinan, clearly surprised. "Weapons?" he echoed blankly. "The transporter logs registered two bladed weapons amongst your belongings." Duncan relaxed visibly. "Oh, the swords! Forgive me, I didn't think to notify you, I didn't realize you would need to know. They're heirlooms, I couldn't leave them on the Darius for scavengers to carry off." That was apparently not the answer Worf had expected. He looked grudgingly mollified, and Deanna was relieved that she wasn't going to have to intervene. "I would like to inspect them." "I would be more than happy to let you see them, if I knew where they were. At the moment, I really don't know where they ended up." "Your personal items were transported directly to your quarters." "I know, but I don't know where *that* is." "You were not informed of the location of your quarters?" Duncan shook his head and Worf looked annoyed. "Lieutenant Barclay should have familiarized you with them." MacLeod studied Worf, and spoke calmly. "Lt. Barclay was called away to Engineering by Commander LaForge before he had a chance to tell me. It was not an error on his part." Deanna's appreciation for the man went up. It was very considerate of him to make the effort to keep Barclay out of trouble. It wasn't something many people would have thought of. Worf nodded acknowledgement. "Thank you, I will bear that in mind. You have been assigned to guest quarters on deck 10, not far from here. I will escort you there." MacLeod looked past Deanna to Guinan. "Later?" he queried. She nodded."I'll find you." Worf looked from MacLeod to Guinan, a rather puzzled expression on his face as he studied the bartender. Deanna suspected he was as surprised by her appearance as she had been. He finally looked away from her to MacLeod, and spoke. "If you will follow me?" MacLeod nodded and followed him out, leaving Guinan and Deanna at 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 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. **** Subject: In the Dark 10/14 --------------------------------------------------------------------------- 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 Troi, 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 thought 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 say's 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 sir, 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 warrior, 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." =========================================================================