Date: Thu, 6 Jul 1995 15:59:55 -0500 Reply-To: kellie , Julia Kosatka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Julia Kosatka Subject: In the Dark, part 12/17 She stared at him a moment, then called his bluff. "All right, I will." She looked up. "Computer? Search databanks for religious group known as Christian Scientists, especially as pertains to their beliefs about medical intervention." Moments later the computer's disembodied voice spoke. "Christian Science, a Terran para-Christian Cult whose adherents believe that all healing comes from Deity. This sect adheres to strict policy of no medical intervention." Beverly looked stunned. MacLeod looked smug. Picard had to work very hard not to laugh. He hadn't seen his chief medical officer so neatly stymied in years. After a moment Bev shook her head, a rueful smile curving her mouth. "Well, Mr. MacLeod, you've manage to weasel your way out of an examination, haven't you? However, if you could manage to explain to me what you lived on for five days when your replicators were offline and there were no emergency rations aboard, I would certainly like to hear it!" "I went hungry," he said simply. "It's not the first time, nor, I imagine, will it be the last." She gazed at him thoughtfully. "That's certainly plausible; however, I also discovered that your water stores were contaminated by that coolant leak. You don't mean to tell me you went without liquid for five days as well, do you?" "Not at all." He smiled brilliantly. "I had a case of Laphroig aboard that I was planning to sell. Nothing can contaminate a good single-malt." "You..." she sputtered, then rolled her eyes and made a face. "You are a damned slippery character, Duncan MacLeod. Just like your father, from what I hear!" He chuckled. "That I am." Picard stared at his CMO. "Don't tell me you know him too?" Bev turned to him, curious. "Too? Who else knows him?" "He's an old friend of Guinan's." "Oh really? Fascinating! Actually, I just met Mr. MacLeod yesterday, but it turns out that his father was a friend of my grandmother's." Picard studied MacLeod again, thinking it a bit odd that this man had connections to two such vastly different women. But then, perhaps it wasn't so surprising after all. He would admit to being no expert on what women found attractive in a man, but he was willing to wager that this particular specimen would fall into that category for just about every woman aboard the ship. He wondered what Beverly would say if he asked her about him. Would she admit to such interest? He wasn't the jealous type, but with their own relationship so tenuous, it was a little unsettling to find himself wondering how she regarded the man. Shaking off that feeling, he remembered that Deanna had wanted him to try and learn more about the man. "Mr. MacLeod, would you care to join me for dinner? Guinan is a long-time friend of mine, and I would be pleased to learn more about her friends. Also, I understand you're from Valhalla, and I'd like to satisfy my curiosity about the place. I've heard a lot of fascinating things about it." To his surprise, MacLeod shook his head. "May I take you up on your offer another time? To be honest, it's been a long week, and after that work-out," he nodded toward the holodeck, "what I really want is a few hours sleep." Picard nodded pleasantly, but wanted to make sure he understood that it wasn't exactly a request. "I understand. Perhaps tomorrow night, if that's convenient? If not, we still have several days before reaching Starbase 108." MacLeod gazed at him shrewdly, understanding clear on his face. "I would be honored to meet with you tomorrow night, sir." With that he nodded briefly to the three Star Fleet officers, and walked away down the hall. Picard caught Beverly watching him, and cleared his throat to get her attention. "Well, Beverly, I hope you'll not turn me down too." She jumped a little, and turned to him, her cheeks a tiny bit flushed. "Is that an invitation?" "It is." "I'd love to, then. Shall we?" She linked her arm through his and they headed for Ten-Forward. **** Subject: In the Dark 11/14 --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Duncan sat in the dark in his stateroom, nursing two fingers of Scotch and thinking about his life. He was trapped in the web of depression that had afflicted him more and more often of late. It started whenever he thought about how long he'd been around. He'd been born in the fifteenth century, and it was nearly the twenty-fifth now. Soon it would have been a thousand years. What had he done with his life in all that time? What good had he done... and what evil? What mark had he left? Not much of one. He had composed no music, painted no paintings, written no books. His only real contribution had been to help whenever and wherever he could. Normally that was enough, but every once in awhile he wished he could have been *more*. Deep inside him there was a spark of creation that burned and twisted, but he'd never yet found what it was he was supposed to do. Deanna Troi's startling resemblance to Thalassa Demetrious had raked open long-scabbed-over wounds. Gods, but it was so hard to continually *lose* the people you cared about! By loving mortals, he condemned himself to the pain of separation again and again; yet what else could he do? He couldn't love an Immortal either. It wasn't allowed, all because of some stupid *Game*, some mythical Prize! What the hell was it, anyway? After a thousand years, it didn't matter any more. He didn't even believe in it any more. That was the worst of it. He'd come to the stunning realization that the Game could be just that, a myth created by some long-dead Immortal who had needed to rationalize his own desire to kill. The legacy of that myth had doomed countless Immortals to fear, and pain, and loneliness. They couldn't just love each other and live their lives as mortals did. They had to hide, and fight, and kill. Over the years he'd *almost* managed to convince himself that he didn't need anyone but himself, but sometimes in the night he knew a fierce longing to have someone to be with, forever; and not have to worry about someday facing them across the edge of a sword. Being surrounded by mortals as he was on this ship, seeing them free to love as they would, made him feel the absence of it all the more deeply. Aboard his own ship he could almost convince himself that he was normal. Here, his abnormality was starkly laid bare, and he couldn't hide it from himself even if he could from others. He hadn't had a relationship with a mortal in over thirty years, not since Ginevra had died. He had kept to himself, avoiding contact with anyone other than his Watchers, trying not to let himself care for anyone. Even then, it didn't work well. He had gotten interested in Valhalla despite his best efforts not to, and had ended up becoming friends with Jeremy Dikembe... he just wasn't cut out to be a loner. He tossed back the remainder of his Scotch in a swift gulp, and stared at the empty glass. Empty. Like himself. His fingers tightened around the glass and it shattered. He swore, staring at the blood dripping from his fingers. The pain began to fade almost before he'd really felt it, leaving behind only a slight tingle. Idly he picked up a piece of the broken glass and drew it across his palm, opening a wound and watching it heal. He wondered if there was another Immortal in the quadrant, preferably one who didn't like him. It was awfully hard to kill yourself when you could only die by decapitation. Not an easy task for any would-be suicide. Far easier to let someone else do it for you. The door-chime made it's damnably cheerful little chirp and he sighed. It was probably the Doctor, still trying to find a way to coerce him into Sickbay. Even so, it would be better than sitting in the dark thinking about death. "Come." The door opened, and someone stepped into the room. He didn't bother to see who it was, but remained staring out at the stars. She moved closer, standing behind him. He knew it was a woman, from her scent, from the sound of her clothing. "What's wrong, Duncan?" the voice was gentle, and concerned. "Hello, Guinan." "I could feel you all the way from Ten-Forward. Do you want to talk?" "Not really." "All right." There was no recrimination in her voice, but she didn't leave. Instead, she moved around the couch and started to sit down next to him. "Wait, careful..." he picked up several shards of broken glass and moved them to the end-table. "There. Safe now." She sat, and took his hand, looking at the dark stains that crossed it. "You should see the doctor." "No need. It's healed." She looked more closely. "So it is. Must be nice." "I used to think so." There was a short silence, then she nodded. "I see." Of all people, she just might see. "How do you do it?" he asked, obliquely. She understood, as he had expected she would. "I just take things a day at a time, and I put up walls to keep people from getting too close. But you know, I didn't realize I was doing that until you came. You kind of... woke me up." "I'm sorry." "No, don't be. I needed it." She looked out at the stars. "Do you remember the talk we had in your apartment, all those years ago?" He remembered it. He remembered everything. "Yes." "I was pretty glib, wasn't I? It's so damned hard not to feel guilty. Even if it had nothing to do with you. And for me, it wasn't just one person, it was my *people*." That got through. He turned and looked at her, only to find her staring out at the stars just as he had been. "What do you mean?" "You've heard of the Borg, right?" "Who hasn't?" "They destroyed my world, and assimilated my people, all but a handful. I survived because, as usual, I wasn't home. I've always been so interested in other worlds... my family said I was too interested in them. In the end, I lost them because of that." "But if you'd been there, you'd have been assimilated too." She sighed. "I know. Sometimes..." "...you wish you had," he finished for her. She nodded, and he continued. "I know the feeling. On Earth, during World War Two; there were times I thought it would be so much easier to be one of the victims rather than one of the survivors. I did what I could, but it seemed like so little at the time." "I heard, and read, and felt... from the survivors. I wasn't there then, my father said it was too dangerous and wouldn't let me stay, though I thought maybe I could be of some help, somehow." "Your father?" he asked, surprised. "Yeah, you know, male biological parent." she said, smiling. "I--" he laughed, shaking his head. "I guess I thought that since you're like me in other ways, you were like me that way to." "And what way is that?" "No family. No parents. None of my kind have family." She shook her head. "Oh, I have-- I mean, had, family. A lot of it. Now it's just me, and Jahn." "Jahn?" She sighed. "My son. When he claims me, that is." "You have a son?" he asked, stunned, but unable to *not* ask. She nodded. "I do. Jahn's... oh, two hundred and three now. He'd be the black sheep of the family if we still had a family. I guess I wasn't a very good mother. Not when he needed me to be. Now that I know how, it's too late." she sighed and looked off into the distance. "We ought to be required to have a license to procreate." "But at least you *can*." he said starkly. He felt as if he stood on the edge of a cliff, looking down into a roiling chasm of pain. Her words had opened up a place inside of him that he normally walled off even from himself. Her head snapped around toward him, her eyes narrowed as she studied him. "Duncan... you..." "It's not important." he grated out. "But it is. I can feel it. I'm sorry; I didn't know you felt this way or I would have--" "You would have what? Hidden it from me?" he interrupted, angrily, though he was more angry with himself than her. After almost a thousand years he kept thinking he'd dealt with this problem. "No, I can't go through life having people hide their families from me just because I can't have my own." "What about adoption, or fostering?" He closed his eyes, remembering. Kahane. Viola. Michelle. Douglas. In some ways even the Immortals he had mentored been substitute children for him. "I tried that. It never worked. I was a hazard to them. I've learned that lesson." "That doesn't make any sense! How can it be dangerous for a child to have a parent who cares about them?" Duncan sighed. "It's because of what we are. Because of the damned *Game*, having families is a liability. Our enemies know they can attack us through them. The other problem is that since we can't have children of our own, we're inevitably drawn to mortal children. Even if they manage to avoid becoming bait for a trap, eventually they come to realize the strangeness of having a parent who unlike them, doesn't age, and doesn't die." She reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "I never thought about how hard that would be, or how dangerous. Why do you still hide what you are, though? In this day and age, with sentients as diversely alien and far-flung as they are, why is it necessary?" "Because even now there are those who would use us as research animals, just to find out how we work. We've managed to avoid that so far, we haven't even tried to find out for ourselves because the knowledge is too dangerous. There are a lot of theories, but no real facts. Is it magic, or genetics, or a bit of both? Who knows?" "Dangerous? How?" "If it could be artificially duplicated, there are those who would do it, and then use their position to enslave those who don't possess the secret." "There's nothing that says a naturally-occurring member of your kind wouldn't do just that," Guinan pointed out reasonably. "Nothing but those of us who won't let them." Duncan said grimly. She gazed at him thoughtfully. "You realize, don't you, that if it could be duplicated, perhaps it could also be... fixed." He laughed humorlessly. "Oh, I've thought of that. Believe me, I have. And despite these periodic fits of depression, I've come to realize that I wouldn't change what I am. I just want to change how I live. I'm so damned tired of being alone, even when I'm not alone. I'm tired of the guilt, and the shame, even though I know it's not really my fault that I'm alive and they're not. It always seems somehow like it *must* be. I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of not belonging to the world I was born on." She reached out and put her palm against his face. "I know, Duncan. I know. I live with that too." She shook her head. "I have a people without a home, you have a home without a people. We're quite a pair, aren't we?" He covered her hand with his and turned his head so it was against his lips, holding it there for a moment, feeling the warmth of her palm, the warmth of her presence. Some of the ice inside him started to melt, and he chanced a look at her face. He saw the his own pain reflected in her eyes. Reaching out, he drew her closer, his arms tight around her, hers slid close around him. They sat that way for a long time. After a while she lifted her head. "If only I'd known then what I know now..." she began. Duncan shook his head. "Don't. There's no point in that. What's done is done. We can't change the past, only the future." She sighed. "I know. But it's hard not to think that way. Isn't it strange how things work out? Tell me, something... was Joe Dawson one of you?" Emotions swept him. The pleasure of remembering a good friend, the pain of thinking about how long he'd been gone. It was always this way, remembering mortals. He shook his head. "No, though I always wished he had been. He was a good man, a good friend." "You miss him." "A lot." "I wish I'd had a chance to know him better." Duncan grinned. "So did he." She smiled, shaking her head. "You know, it's probably just as well that I had to leave when I did. When I was there studying Earth cultures we were under strict rules not to-- how shall I put it-- `fraternize with the natives.' I don't know that I could have stuck to that if I'd stayed around, and I don't know that I could have chosen between the two of you." He lifted an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't do threesomes." "I was young and naive," she said with a wink. He laughed, shaking his head, and she laughed with him. God, it was good to laugh and really feel it. He shifted position, stretching out, and then he drew her against him so they were touching along the length of their bodies; for some reason craving the physical contact. It was no more than that. He had no other expectations of the moment. He just wanted to touch and be touched by another living being. She settled against him comfortably, her head resting on his shoulder, her face turned upward. He followed her gaze and found her looking at the stars again. They were both drawn to that view; the brilliant stars and the dark, empty spaces between. Too much like their lives, he supposed. After a while, Guinan spoke again. "Duncan, why is it you seem to think you don't deserve to be happy?" "I was cursed by a Gypsy," he told her, dead serious. "She told me I would never find happiness." She looked at him, smiling a little. "Don't you know that a curse only has power if you believe in it?" He gazed back at her steadily. "Could I be what I am and not believe in magic?" She thought about that for a moment, and finally shook her head ruefully. "I guess you've got a point. Still, don't you think a few hundred lifetimes is long enough for a curse to run its course? I have some Gypsy friends, would you like me to have them remove the curse for you?" He chuckled. "Why didn't I ever think of that?" Her gaze was candid, and so was her reply. "Because you *like* brooding, Duncan. You're good at it. Byronic to the core." He winced. "Ouch. That hurt." "It was supposed to. Face it, you like being unhappy." "No I don't!" "Then break the cycle. Do something to make yourself happy!" He studied her for a long time, then finally found voice to ask the question that kept slinking out from the shadowy corners of his mind. "All right, I will. Stay with me tonight?" She contemplated him for several long moments, then a smile spread over her face, a wide, unforced, joyous smile. "As long as you like," she said finally. "And that will make *both* of us happy." He felt himself begin to relax for the first time since he'd come aboard the ship, no, for the first time in years. She reached up and repositioned his arm where it rested across her shoulder, then took his hand and threaded her fingers through his. "It's nice to find someone who really understands," she said quietly. He nodded, his lips brushing her hair. "That it is." **** Sunlight. She wished there were sunlight, the warm, focused, butter- yellow light of Terra's star. Instead there was just the cool, soft glow of the Enterprise's lightpanels. It just wasn't the same. Still, waking up was a pleasant thing this morning, surround as she was by the warmth and human comfort of Duncan's body. He lay behind her, cradling her against him. Guinan glanced down at his hand where it rested on her thigh, noting how light it seemed in contrast to her own chocolate-brown. She smiled, thinking that it probably wasn't often he was thought of as fair-skinned. She knew he was awake. Quiet, but, she sensed, peaceful. So was she. She reached down and put her hand over his, idly tracing his fingers with hers. "I could get used to this, Duncan." He chuckled. "Good morning to you too." He stretched. She felt the muscles move beneath his skin, and closed her eyes, savoring the closeness. "Thank you for staying," he said, his voice shaded with meaning. "That's twice in one lifetime." "What is?" "That you've brought me out of the darkness." "We brought each other." "You never seem so far in the dark as I do." "I hide it better," she sighed. "Any idea what time it is?" "None, why?" "I usually have breakfast with Deanna, she'll wonder..." "No she won't," Duncan interrupted, amused. "She's a Betazoid, remember? She'll know why." Guinan felt her skin warm, and shook her head, laughing at herself. "I'm blushing. I don't believe it." He smoothed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, sensing the heat there. "Why?" "I... because this isn't who I am to these people. They won't understand it." "What's not to understand? You have the same needs, and wants as any of them! Why would they think you sexless? And what about Picard? I thought I sensed something there." "Oh, that. There was something there, once, but we're just friends now." Duncan chuckled. "Just friends. God, how I hate those words. I can't even remember how many times I've said that, when I didn't mean it. It's as easy to lie to yourself with them as it is to others." She shook her head. "He's more than half in love with Beverly Crusher. I won't come between them, it wouldn't be fair. What's past is past." "But what's fair to you?" She turned finally, and looked at him evenly. "You are." He returned her gaze, head tipped slightly to one side as he assessed her words. "I see." She scowled, sensing his withdrawal. "What do you see?" "More than you think I do. I may not be psychic, Guinan, but I've a lot of experience with human nature. You think I'm fair for you because I'll be gone soon." She felt a shock of recognition as he spoke. He was right. But did it have to be that way? She chose her words carefully. "It's true you'll be leaving soon, and I won't be going with you. We both know that. But now that we know about each other, there's no reason why we can't... keep in touch, is there?" He shook his head, looking intrigued. "No, there's not." "You'll know where I am, I'll know where you are; and I'll be there if you need me." "What of your needs?" She smiled. "It works both ways, right?" He nodded, slowly. "If you want it so. Guinan, I..." A chirp from the door-annunciator interrupted him, and he frowned. "Just a moment, let me see who that is." He rolled out of bed, grabbed his pants and tugged them on as he walked out of the room. She sat up, listening intently. "Come." Duncan's voice was matter of fact. She heard the hiss of the door opening, then Worf's earthquake- rumble voice. "nuHpIn'a' MacLeod, we have practice, do we not?" Her eyes widened. Worf had used a seldom-used Klingon appellation to preface Duncan's name. Loosely translated it meant weapons-master, but had somewhat of the feel of the Earth term Sensei to it. She was more than a bit startled to hear Worf accord such a title to Duncan. "Worf, forgive me friend, I... have company and I'm afraid I overslept. Give me a few minutes and I'll join you on the holodeck." Guinan grinned, clearly visualizing the look on Worf's face. He would feign indifference, while simultaneously being curious *who* Duncan was with, and disdainful of the loose mating practices of humans. She'd seen him wear that expression before, usually around Will Riker. "I see. I will wait, as you wish." "Thank you." She heard the door close again, and Duncan walked back into the bedroom, yawning as he ran his fingers through his hair. Yawn completed, his expression turned rueful. "I'm sorry, I'd forgotten I was to meet him this morning for our workout." He grinned. "You drove all thought right out of my mind." She laughed. "You silver-tongued devil, you! Are you sure you're Scottish, not Irish?" He didn't miss her meaning, and grinned. "I'm sure. Stay if you like. I'll be back in an hour or so." Something began to niggle at her, some dark current of perception eddying just out of sight. She put out her hand. "Duncan, don't go." He paused as he pulled on the padded tunic he wore to spar in, and looked back at her. "Is something wrong?" She tried to focus on the vague unease, and couldn't make it come clearer. Whatever it was, it didn't seem all that serious. It was nothing like the foreboding she had when real danger threatened. Finally she shook her head. "No, nothing really. Just a... feeling." "Don't worry about me. I'm a big boy." She grinned. "I noticed." He laughed and took his katana from its place on the shelf. "Later." She nodded and watched him leave, wondering what was bothering her. No doubt she'd find out in due time. She settled back into the warm hollow where he'd been, and let her eyes drift closed again. Moments later she opened them again with a sigh. Whatever unpleasantness was hovering on the edge of her perception her wasn't going to let her get back to sleep, she could tell that already. She might as well get up now. She made use of the bathroom, then checked the time, and made a face. It was well past the time of her usual breakfast with Deanna. She slipped into her caftan and sat down at the comunit. "Personal message, Guinan to Deanna Troi, is she available?" "One moment," the machine responded. Seconds later the screen filled with Deanna's face. She was smiling. No, she was *grinning*, her eyes alight with mischievous humor. "Good morning, Guinan. Did you have a nice night?" "As a matter of fact, I did, but you knew that already." =========================================================================