Date: Thu, 6 Jul 1995 14:28:19 -0500 Reply-To: Julia Kosatka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Julia Kosatka Subject: In the Dark, part 2/17 Even though it had become a familiar smell over the years, Mulder never quite managed to suppress his initial surge of discomfort at the eau-de-formaldehyde-and-decay of a morgue. Though it looked pristine, tile walls and floors spotless, steel tables and equipment gleaming, there was still that underlying scent of rot that made him shiver a little. He could look dispassionately on a body, but somehow the *smell* affected a more primal part of him. He watched Scully and the coroner as they examined the body. From where he was, he could see the edges of the severed neck. It was clean... astonishingly so. It looked more like something a Hollywood special-effects crew would have created than an actual wound. "The corpse was like this when you found it?" Scully's voice was slightly muffled by her mask. The other woman nodded. "Almost exactly. And it had been there for at least a day." "Indoors or out?" "Indoors, in an old warehouse, but there was no air conditioning, and a lot of broken windows." "What about the other one?" "Both bodies were found in the warehouse, but the other one is normal." "Interesting. What all did you look for?" "The usual stuff, staphylococcus, s. silbus, s. auresu, s. saprophyticus, the micrococci, and on, and on. There should've been all kinds of bugs on this guy, but there weren't. Not only that, but there were no viri in the blood samples!" "What about the internal organs?" "You may want to look at those yourself... it's pretty amazing in there. I've never seen organs like this in anyone over the age of six." "What do you mean?" "They're perfect, textbook perfect, almost. There are a couple of abnormalities... see here?" Rosall lifted one of the corpse's arms and peeled back a flap of skin in the underarm area. "Are those lymph nodes?" Scully sounded amazed. "But they're huge... and so many of them!" "Exactly! Ever see anything like that before? I haven't. The neck shows similar development, and look at this," Rosall did something in the body cavity. "Here, see the spleen?" "It seems to be enlarged." "I thought so at first, but look inside." Scully leaned down and examined the body more closely. "My god... that's odd! It's *packed* with white pulp!" "You should see it under the 'scope! I also found some rather unusual nerve development when I was doing slides as well. This guy is just bizarre." "You said he had no bacteria or viruses in his system... what about cancer?" "Nope, not a sign of it." "What's up Scully?" Mulder asked, tired of not knowing what they were talking about. She stepped away from the body and pulled her mask down a bit. "Aside from a complete lack of any kind of inimical bacteria or viruses, this guy also had some very peculiar physiology. Usually you find all kinds of bacteria on a body, some of it beneficial, like intestinal flora, but a lot of other stuff too. However, according to Dr. Rosall's lab reports, there is a complete absence of normal pathogens in this body." "Meaning?" "Meaning that this person is in unnaturally good health." "Aside from the minor problem of being dead?" Mulder asked dryly. Dr. Rosall let out a soft laugh, and he mentally marked his scorecard. It wasn't every day you got a coroner to laugh. "What made you test for the presence of normal bacteria? It doesn't seem like a `standard procedure' sort of thing." "It's not," she said, nodding approvingly at his question. "I began testing after noticing that the corpse had a substantively atypical pattern of necrosis." "Can I have a translation of that from Coroner-ese?" "It wasn't rotting properly." "Too much junk food?" Mulder asked, only half joking. Rosall shook her head. "Actually, preservatives in the diet *can* have an effect on decay, but not like this. I've saved the best for last, though," She walked over to the lightbox and turned it on. "Take a look a these babies." There were several x-rays on the box. Scully walked over to where she could see them clearly, Mulder followed, though he didn't expect to be able to make heads of tails of whatever the films showed. Scully studied them for a moment, then a soft gasp broke from her lips and she stepped closer. After a moment she shot a look of disbelief at her fellow pathologist. "That's impossible! No one could have survived that!" "That's what I thought. Amazing isn't it?" "What is?" Mulder asked, staring at the shadowy images on the film, wondering what was so exciting about them. "It looks as if he fell from a great height, or was beaten horrifically... crushed somehow. I don't know. It's weird." "Maybe he was a skydiver and his chute didn't open?" Mulder speculated blandly, still not seeing the problem. You don't understand, Mulder. These healed breaks appear to be approximately the same age, which means that at some time in his life just about every bone in this man's body was broken, but they healed! I've never heard of anyone living through damage of this nature! It's simply not possible!" "Scully, after all this time working with me, I'd think you would have dropped that phrase from your vocabulary. Show me what you're looking at." Scully pointed out the healed fracture marks, sometimes two or three to any given bone. He had to admit that it was pretty spectacular, especially considering that some of the worst fractures seemed to have been in the skull and neck area. "Even granting the possibility of someone surviving this sort of trauma, the victim would probably have been paralysed, and probably severely brain-damaged," Scully said, shaking her head. "Maybe he was. What do we know about him?" Rosall stripped off her gloves and put them in a container marked prominently with the biohazard emblem, then began scrubbing her hands as she spoke. "Very little, actually. He was a visitor, probably here to gamble, like most people who come here. He was staying at the Hilton. No one remembers anything unusual about him. His ID tells us his name was Frederick Corben, of Baltimore, Maryland. He was thirty-four years old, and his business cards indicate that he was an art dealer. People who spoke to him said he appeared perfectly normal, and I found no signs of muscular atrophy consist with paralysis." Scully had wandered back over to the body and was examining it, lifting the arms, turning them this way and that. Mulder wondered what she was looking for. She glanced up when Rosall stopped speaking. "He was thirty-four?" "That's what his records say." "Was he born in the United States?" "Yes, Houston, Texas." "But he doesn't have a smallpox vaccination scar." Scully ran a latex-sheathed finger over the corpse's upper arm. "I checked both arms." "A lot of people don't any more." "Not people this age, born in the US. They didn't stop giving vaccinations to babies until the late sixties, as I recall." "So you don't think he was born in the US?" "No, I don't. And I'll bet those papers are faked. Mulder, have someone check that out, would you?" "Already on it, Scully." She looked up. He had his cell-phone out and was dialing. *** Subject: In the Dark 2/14 --------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was eight in the evening. Joe was behind the bar, fretting, having not been able to contact Duncan other than to leave repeated messages on his machine. Someone touched his shoulder and he turned quickly, almost losing his balance. "What?" he snapped, his voice rough and harsh. He regretted it a second later. "I'm sorr..." he began, but she lifted a hand and shook her head. "No need. I can see you're upset... and so can your customers. Let Dave mind the bar and come talk to me." Not quite knowing why, he followed her to a table in the back, where the light was dim and the band not quite so overwhelming. She sat down, and indicated a place across from her. "So, tell me what's bothering you." Something about her voice and manner invited confidence. For a moment he was tempted, but then he shook his head. "I can't talk about it." "Can't, or won't?" "Can't. It would be betraying a confidence." She inclined her head, indicating understanding. They sat silent for a moment, then finally she spoke again. "What happened to your legs?" He was stunned silent for a moment. No one ever commented on that, they just pretended not to notice. "I ah... ah..." he stammered. "I've offended you," Guinan stated, looking regretful. "I'm sorry." "No, it's not that! Actually, it's kind of nice for someone to just come out and ask, rather than pretending not to notice. I lost both legs in a car accident, fifteen years ago."He didn't mention what else he'd lost in that accident. That was too personal a thing to talk about with a virtual stranger, no matter how much you liked them. Besides, what woman wanted to hear about a man's lost loves? "You're very stubborn, aren't you?" she said, her head cocked slightly to one side. He chuckled. "What makes you think that?" "A lot of people would be content with a wheelchair. You're not." "You're damned right I'm not! If that makes me stubborn, then yes, I am." "I can see that. What do you do, besides tend bar?" "Play guitar." "I'd like to hear you." "Stick around awhile, you will. It's how I blow off steam when I get like this." "Like what?" "You know, you said it yourself. Scary to the customers." He growled for emphasis.She laughed. "You don't scare me. Your bark is a lot worse than your bite." He bared his teeth. "How do you know, little girl?" She studied him for a moment, a tiny smile on her face, and he had the feeling he was about to regret having said that. Before she could speak movement caught his eye and he looked up to see Duncan striding toward the table, his leather trenchcoat swirling around his calves. A feeling of unutterable relief washed through him. Duncan was all right. Though Joe knew quite well that it was against Watcher policy to get `involved' with the Immortals you were supposed to watch, he had become good friends with Duncan MacLeod. It would hurt like hell to lose him. Joe stood as Duncan came to the table. He saw no trace of the wariness Duncan usually displayed in the presence of another Immortal, though that did not necessarily mean he hadn't felt Recognition. If Duncan had sensed Guinan before Joe had noticed him, he might not have seen it. Guinan's face showed nothing other than curiosity, and a bit of the same slightly `dazed' expression women often displayed in Duncan's presence. "Joe, what's wrong?" Duncan's voice was concerned, his attention focused. "I got home and found eight messages from you on my machine!" Joe turned to Guinan. "I'm sorry, will you excuse me for a few moments? I need to speak to my friend in private." Guinan nodded. "Go ahead. I'll wait. I'm good at waiting." Duncan shot a curious glance at Guinan, and nodded at her politely, but his attention returned almost immediately to Joe as he followed him into the back room. **** Guinan watched Joe lead his friend out of sight, her curiosity more piqued than it had been in years. Joe was earthy, real, and warm, his mental signature simultaneously soothing and stimulating. But his friend... there was some indefinable *difference* about him, and it had nothing to do with his extraordinary good looks, though those certainly didn't put her off at all. What really drew her was the core of his personality, so much stronger than any of the others in the room that to her Othersenses he almost glowed. Even though she was young and her empathic skills only beginning to develop, she could sense a powerful difference about the newcomer. She was intrigued. What made him different? What set him apart? She'd never met a Terran who felt quite like him before, though some of her own people had similar auras, her father, for instance. He had once told her that sort of intense personality developed with age... which couldn't possibly be the case here. Humans were too short-lived to develop that sort of depth and brilliance. Perhaps they were occasionally born with such intensity? She would have to study that possibility. She wondered what they were to each other. She almost hadn't needed her budding empathy to sense the intensity of relief Joe had felt when the other man came into the bar. It had been written all over his face. Were they lovers, perhaps? No, she didn't think that felt quite right. It was a complex sort of feeling... with oddly mixed paternal and filial overtones, openness and secrecy, rivalry and friendship... very strange. She was fascinated. Humans were so interesting! She couldn't understand why her father was always pestering her to give up her studies on Earth. If there was any other species in known space that held more potential, she hadn't found it. Musing on that, she went to the bar for a coffee and returned to her seat, waiting. Perhaps Joe would introduce her to his intriguing friend when he returned. **** "What?" Duncan demanded, shaken. "Watchers too? But that doesn't make sense! There's no reason..." "I know that, but it *is* happening. Another pair were reported since I first realized what was going on this morning." "But who...?" "Your guess is as good as mine. All I can say is that whoever it is, is a sadistic son of a bitch. Our people aren't trained to fight! They wouldn't stand a chance!" Duncan nodded. "You're right about that." Joe was silent for a moment, then finally he looked up at Duncan, his face set. "Mac, you know I'm not supposed to do this, but I felt you should know. Tanner Dane may be heading our way. Duncan's shoulders tensed, but he kept his face expressionless. "Tanner Dane?" Joe nodded. "I thought you might like to know." Duncan's thoughts were chaotic... memories surfaced, terrible ones. It had happened nearly three hundred years ago, but even that distance wasn't enough to dull the pain of it. "Duncan?" His attention snapped back to the present, and he saw Joe watching him with concerned eyes. "You were thinking of Thalassa Demetrious, weren't you?" Duncan nodded, swallowing down the nausea that still surged. "Doesn't it strike you as odd that Dane should turn up *now*?" Joe nodded. "It did, I just wondered if you would agree. I'm trying to contact his Watcher to find out where he's been, but with Dane on the road Evan hasn't had a chance to check in. At least, I hope that's the only reason. He could be dead, too, if it's Dane, though how he would have learned about us, I don't know." Duncan shook his head. "Dane's not stupid. Sometimes you Watchers get careless. Remember, I found you... Kalas found you... it's not that hard." Joe flinched, but had to acknowledge the truth of Duncan's words. "It's a perennial problem, since we're primarily volunteer and only minimally trained. I'll see if we can match Dane to the vicinity of any of the killings. If we can just find out who's doing it, maybe we can warn people." "My people or yours?" Duncan asked, quietly. Joe looked at him, and there was guilt in his eyes. "Duncan..." Duncan shook his head. "I'm sorry, Joe. I shouldn't have said that. Thanks for the information. Even that's more than you should have told me." "If I could do more, I would." "I know." He had to change the subject, get away from the pain. He cast around desperately for a topic, and found one. "So... who's your friend? I haven't seen her around before, have I?" Joe looked surprised. "You mean you don't know her?" Duncan looked at him, frowning slightly as he tried to remember having met her before. "No, should I?" "I thought she was one of yours." "One of my what?" Duncan asked, intrigued. "An Immortal." Duncan focused on him, intent. "Why would you think that?" "Look at this..." Joe opened his desk and took out a book. Duncan recognized the Watcher sigil on the cover, and knew it must be a Chronicle. Joe opened it, and handed the open book to him. He studied the page, a photocopy of a newspaper from the 1800's. For a moment he wasn't sure why Joe had given it to him, then he really looked at the face in the photograph. His eyebrows lifted. "Astonishing resemblance," he said, studying the page. "But it's not her?" Duncan shook his head. "No, she's no Immortal." "You're sure?" "I think I would have noticed." Duncan said, drily. Joe chuckled. "I suppose that's true. The resemblance just was so uncanny... I had to ask." "You'd be surprised how many people look like their ancestors. If I had a dime for every time I've thought I saw a face from my past in a crowd, I'd be a rich man." "Duncan, you *are* a rich man." Duncan grinned. "That's beside the point." They both chuckled. "So, are you going to introduce me?" "On one condition." "That being?" "Try not to be so damned charming, okay?" Duncan's eyebrows shot up. "Blows the wind from that quarter?" Joe looked a touch embarrassed. "I didn't mean..." "Say no more. I'll do my best boor imitation." "Oh God, no!" Joe moaned theatrically, his head in his hands. "Anything but that!" **** There he was. Guinan sensed him getting closer, that seductively powerful aura like a torch in the room full of muddy, drunken souls. She looked up and found Joe and his friend approaching the table. Whatever Joe's problem had been, the meeting must have mitigated it. His surly expression was gone and she could sense that though he was still concerned, he wasn't frantic with worry as he had been earlier. As they approached, she was forcibly reminded of a pair of wolves; one grizzled and a bit the worse for wear, but still hell in a fight, the other younger, stronger, but perhaps more impulsive. She smiled privately at the comparison, and reminded herself that wolves hunt in packs. The younger man turned his chair around backward and straddled it, the already-taut denim of his jeans stretching to the point where she wondered why a seam didn't give. She pretended not to have been looking anyplace where she would have noticed. As he flipped his heavy coat out behind him, she flashed back to trying to sit down in a hoopskirt, and understood why he was sitting in the chair the wrong way. Joe waved a hand at his companion. "Guinan, I'd like to you meet a friend of mine, Duncan MacLeod, Duncan, Guinan. She sings with the band." "Only when they want to thin the crowd a bit." Guinan said, with a grin. "I'm pleased to meet you Mr. MacLeod." "Call me Duncan, please. Being called `mister' makes me feel ancient." Joe shot an amused glance at his friend, who shrugged, one corner of his mouth quirking upward. Guinan wondered what that was all about, but refrained from asking. "All right, Duncan it is, then. I see you've managed to help Joe out of that nasty mood he was in earlier. Let me guess... you owed him money and you just paid up?" That drew a laugh from Joe, who shook his head. "I'm more likely to owe Duncan money than he is me. No, it was nothing like that, I just had some important information I needed to relay to him." She sensed undertones of protectiveness beneath his words. Whatever the information had been, Joe had felt his friend endangered by not knowing it. Now that he had passed it on, he was still not completely at ease, but far more so than earlier. "Well then, I guess you don't need me to keep you away from the bar any more." she pushed her chair back, and stood. "Hold on, where are you going?" "I thought you'd want to talk with your friend." "I can talk with him any time. You, I've just met, so sit down." She grinned and sat, as Duncan stuck his lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Well, what am I? Chopped liver?" "Not quite," Joe said, grinning. "Go get us a beer." "From chopped liver to errand boy! I can tell when I'm not wanted!" Duncan put his nose haughtily in the air and stood up. His coat caught the chair behind him and knocked it over with a resounding crash. Looking sheepish he straightened it and fought his way out of the coat. "Damned thing's a hazard." he muttered, draping it over the back of a chair. Guinan admired the way his sweater emphasized his chest and shoulders, and wished it weren't quite so long as he walked off to get the drinks. The track lighting gleamed on his hair, a sable cloak across his shoulders. So often long hair on men seemed affected, but his did not. It looked utterly appropriate. A second later Joe sighed, and she turned her attention back to him, to find him gazing at her with a rather resigned expression. "He's done it again, hasn't he?" "Done what?" Guinan asked, puzzled. "Never mind." She *hated* it when people did that. "I won't `never mind!' What?" "It's just that Duncan seems to have this... effect... on women." "Oh, that," she said, matter-of-factly. "He does, doesn't he? It probably annoys you." "It's petty, I know." "It's normal. It's a guy thing." Joe cringed. "God... what an awful thought!" "Well, take heart, I noticed you first." Joe lifted an eyebrow. "But would you have if we'd *both* been here last night?" She chuckled. "Good question. Unfortunately, we'll never know the answer. Besides, if you can honestly tell me you don't notice good-looking women, *then* you can bitch about me noticing good-looking men. I saw you checking out that blonde at the bar last night." "I did not!" "Yes you did." "Did not!" "It was a nice diamond necklace she was wearing, wasn't it?" Joe frowned thoughtfully. "She wasn't wearing a necklace." Guinan snorted. "I rest my case." Joe opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again without speaking, looking as sheepish as Duncan had a few moments earlier. Duncan made his way back thought the crowd to the table, balancing a tray of drinks like a professional waiter. "I wasn't sure what to get, so I went with three draft Wickeds, and I asked Jerry what the lady was drinking, and he said coffee, so I brought one of those too, just in case." Guinan sighed. "Isn't he sweet?" Joe snorted. "Give it a rest, Duncan." Guinan waved a hand at him. "Oh hush, Joe. The boy can't help it! Besides, you might learn something." "Boy?" Duncan echoed, incredulous. "I'm not calling you a girl, now am I?" "I'm older than I look." Guinan said. "So am I." Duncan returned. They stared at each other, narrow-eyed, for a moment, like a pair of cats circling before a fight, then Joe started laughing, which set them all off. Duncan almost dropped the tray, but managed to rescue it, with only minor spillage. He set it down and distributed the drinks. **** Scully sat back with a sigh, tossing her glasses onto the table as she rubbed her eyes and yawned. "You know, Mulder, I had no idea how popular decapitation was as a modus operandi. This is truly astonishing. Some of these occurred on the same day, close to the same time, but in different countries. Unless our killer can bilocate, they can't all have been done by the same person." Mulder looked up from where he sat on the bed, surrounded by stacks of paper, just as she was. "When I requested information from Interpol on unsolved murders involving decapitation, I expected a handful of reports, not hundreds! This is *not* making life any easier!" He yawned too, trying to hide it behind his hand. "Now you've got me doing it!" he said accusingly. "You know better than to yawn, it starts a chain reaction!" She grinned. "The fact that it's after midnight couldn't have anything to do with it, now could it?" "Not a thing." He dropped the stack of reports he'd been looking at and picked up a different one. "Maybe the U.S. ones will be more helpful... at least there are fewer of them." He started paging through the collection, then suddenly slowed, and started over, pulling out several sheets. "What is it, Mulder?" Scully asked, watching him with interest. =========================================================================