Date: Thu, 6 Jul 1995 14:30:57 -0500 Reply-To: Julia Kosatka Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Julia Kosatka Subject: In the Dark, part 4/17 "I could use to stretch my legs, why don't *I* find Bennett and *you* can call the office?" "Because you've antagonized him enough for one day. Honestly, Mulder, for once we get *cooperation* and you have to make the guy out to be a moron!" "I did not!" "What about when you lectured him about sociopaths?" Mulder looked a bit embarrassed. "Oh. I, um... guess I should say something?" "No, let it drop, just don't do it again, okay?" He nodded. "Okay. I guess I've got phone duty again. Hand me that phonebook, will you?" She handed it to him, and left to hunt up Bennett. When she returned a few minutes later Mulder was standing up, coat in hand. "All set. We can pick up the car whenever we need it. Meanwhile, there's a place within walking distance that I've heard is interesting. Come on, it'll do us both good to get some fresh air." She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and pulled on her own coat. "I just hope it's stopped raining." It hadn't, but it had turned to more of a fine mist than true rain. Scully didn't mind walking in it, in fact, the cool moisture actually felt good on her face, and helped dispel her sleepiness. As they walked, she studied the area, and thought it looked rather industrial. It didn't look like an area where one would expect to find a restaurant, particularly a well-known one. That got her thinking about how Mulder would have heard of it... and she started to have second thoughts. Mulder was not known for his gourmet leanings. Why would he have heard of a restaurant in Seattle, when he barely knew any in DC? Mulder stopped in front of a building whose gray concrete exterior and frosted glass-block windows made her think of various prisons she'd visited. Her feeling of trepidation grew at the sight of the neon sign which glowed on the side of the building. She was *not* encouraged by the single word, "Joe's", but gamely followed Mulder into a small, dimly lit... bar. There was no mistaking it for anything else. The lack of food on any of the occupied tables confirmed it. She pulled up short. "Mulder, this is a *bar*. I thought we were getting something to *eat*!" "Ah, c'mon Scully, they're bound to have peanuts or something." Mulder headed for the bar where a worn-looking man in his late forties was carrying on an animated conversation with a customer. Scully followed, seething quietly. As they approached, the man broke off his conversation and smiled at them. Seen at closer range, he still looked weathered, but was also quite striking. The silvering in his dark hair and beard made him look rather distinguished, and his eyes were bright with humor and intelligence. "Can I help you folks?" If he'd been a woman she would have described him as `whiskey- voiced', but somehow that seemed too feminine a description for his pleasantly husky voice. "Coffee." Mulder said, then looked back at Scully expectantly. The thought of another cup of coffee turned her stomach, so she tried desperately to think of something a bar might serve that was even remotely food-like. It came to her. "I'd like a Virgin Mary, please." The man nodded, and picked up a cane she hadn't noticed earlier, then made his way around to the rear of the bar and began to fill their order. Scully guessed he was a double amputee by the way he walked. Turning aside so as not to seem like she was staring, she studied the room instead. The space was spare, almost as industrial as the building's exterior. The ceiling had been acoustically baffled, though, and a small stage at the front of the room hinted that it was a live-music venue on occasion, though at the moment the stage was unoccupied and the smoky blues playing on the sound- system were pre-recorded. A few tables were occupied, but the place was only half-full. At three in the afternoon, that was hardly surprising. "Here you go." The bartender set their drinks on the counter. Scully's stomach growled at the sight of the celery stalk that garnished her glass. She felt herself color as the man grinned, reached beneath the counter and came up with a basket of pretzels. "Sounds like you could use these." She smiled and took it. "Thanks. *He* promised me food." Both the bartender and the guy he'd been talking with laughed at that. Feeling somewhat vindicated Scully took her drink and the pretzels and sat down at a table a few yards from the bar, leaving Mulder to settle the bill. When he joined her a moment later, he reached for the pretzels. She pulled the bowl out of reach and shook her head. "Uh-unh. Mine. Get your own." He shrugged and sipped his coffee, practicing brooding. "So, spill it. Why are we here, Mulder?" As he opened his mouth to answer, a young man with close-cropped, curly red hair barrelled noisily into the room. "Hey, Joe! Did Mac leave my keys with you?" he called to the bartender from halfway across the room. The man in question rolled his eyes and opened the cash drawer, extracting a set of keys which he tossed to the newcomer. "Yes, he did. Now get out of here before they close me down for letting in minors." It was obvious that he was teasing the kid, because though he did look young, he was clearly over sixteen. The red-head stiffened indignantly. "I am *not*..." He realized, belatedly, that he was being baited and grinned. "Not nice, Joe! I'll get you for that!" With that good-natured threat he turned and dashed back up the stairs. Scully turned to Mulder, eyes narrowed. "That was the guy in the photograph with MacLeod!" she hissed. Mulder nodded. "This place was mentioned in Bennett's files as one of MacLeod's hangouts. I thought it wouldn't hurt to check it out." Scully took a vicious bite out of her celery stalk and chewed it with great vigor. "I hope that's not *me* you're visualizing there," Mulder said, looking like he'd rather be somewhere else. She smiled saccharinely. "What *ever* gave you that idea?" He winced. "I ah... should have told you. I'm sorry." "For God's sake, Mulder! You should know better than to pull this kind of crap! We're *partners*! You remember how that works, right? You tell me what you're planning, and I do the same! Get your head out, will you?" He nodded, avoiding her gaze. "I don't know what it is about this case Scully. I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark. I just can't seem to get a line on it, can't make a connection. It's driving me crazy! I feel like I'm missing something incredibly obvious!" He drained his cup and sat staring at it disconsolately. Scully felt some of her anger ebb. She knew that feeling all too well. "I wish we had something more to go on. It's really frustrating to see part of the pattern, but not know where it started or where it leads." "Exactly," Mulder sighed. "I'm going to get a refill. Want another one of those?" She shook her head and watched him walk over to the bar and extend his cup to `Joe', who took it and turned away to fill the cup. She saw Mulder straighten suddenly, and his face became intent. When `Joe' turned back and handed Mulder the cup, they spoke for a moment, and the bartender shook his head. Mulder shrugged, and returned to the table. "What was that all about?" "He wouldn't let me pay for the refill." "That's all? It seemed like you were awfully interested in something over there." "Damn, and here I thought I was so subtle. You're absolutely right. Our friendly neighborhood barkeep has a tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. I noticed it when he took my cup. Care to guess what it looks like?" It took a lot of willpower not to turn and look at the man behind the bar, but somehow she managed it. "A ring containing a kind of y-shaped bar across the lower quarter?" she asked quietly. "Bingo! You're good at guessing games. We should play charades sometime." "Potential victim, then?" "Who knows? Maybe they're all part of some secret society. In any case, considering the link between this place and MacLeod, it seems like maybe I wasn't wrong about him being a suspect." "Or another potential victim, maybe. Remember, pairs. One with a tattoo, one without." Mulder's head came up and he stared at her. "That's it! Scully, that's it! We need to find out if all the non-tattooed victims had the same sort of abnormal decay patterns as the one in Reno! If so, maybe what we have is a group of test and control subjects!" Scully stared back. "What sort of experiment would we be talking about here?" "I don't know. You said the guy in Reno showed abnormal lymph and spleen development. What would that affect?" Scully thought about it for a moment, frowning. "Well, commonly there would be two reasons to find lymph nodes and spleen displaying the sort of characteristics we saw there. First would be if the person was fighting off a massive infection, second would be if they had cancer. However, since neither of those things were the case, I am left positing that in Mr. Corben, the resting state of those organs was somehow enhanced, so that if a stress were to come along, his immune system would be better able to deal with it." "Immune system enhancement? I wonder if that's what it is? In this age of AIDS, it might be worth experimenting with." "I keep up with the literature, Mulder. I would have read about it if the FDA had approved any sort of experimental therapy on human beings." "Only if they *were* approved. Maybe someone's eliminating the evidence of unauthorized human trials." Scully shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense! If they were doing that, they'd do it in a way that wouldn't attract attention. Something that looked like natural causes, not a series of clear-cut murders!" Mulder sighed. "You're right. Damn. I really thought I had something there." "Still, it wouldn't hurt to check on similarities. I'll call around when we get back to the station." "Humoring the crazy man?" She smiled. "No. Too many of your hunches have panned out for me to disregard them now." Dana saw movement on the stairs that led up to the second entrance to the bar and glanced up, then stared. MacLeod. She recognized him, but she would have stared anyway. The man was just plain stunning. She'd noticed it in the grainy surveillance photo Bennett had shown her, but that had not prepared her for the reality of him. Beautifully proportioned, he had the face of a Renaissance prince; olive-skinned, with full, sensual lips, and dark, bedroom eyes. Even in faded jeans and an old, stretched-out sweater he was remarkable. "Did Fabio just walk in or what?" It took her a moment to register what Mulder had said, but finally she did, and her attention snapped back to her partner as she stared at him in horror. He was regarding her with an amused expression, but hadn't turned around to see what she was looking at, thank goodness. "Uh... no, our suspect did," she said, matter-of-factly, hoping it was dark enough in the bar that he wouldn't notice her blushing. Mulder sat up straighter. "MacLeod?" he asked quietly. "None other." "What's he doing?" "Going over to the bar. He looks worried." Mulder looked at his full cup and swore. "Damn, why didn't I wait to get a refill? I could go eavesdrop!" Scully tipped her glass and finished the last of her drink. "I'll go. I need another celery stick anyway." She got up and walked toward the bar, placing a supporting pillar between herself and them for a moment to see if she could hear anything. "...got to thinking that the timing was strange." MacLeod was saying. He had an interesting accent, she thought it was Scottish but wasn't quite sure. He continued, obviously unaware that he was being overheard. "For her to show up now just seemed too great a coincidence, so I did some checking. It took me two hours of calling around to some of the other musicians just to find her name is Guinan Lawrence. Knowing that, it shouldn't have been hard to get some hard information on her, but there's nothing to find! She has no driver's license, no passport, no social security number, no one knows where she's from or where she lives. She doesn't even seem to have a credit history of any kind! It's like she doesn't exist!" "I can't believe you'd check up on her like that! That's pretty damned cold, Mac!" Joe was clearly angry with MacLeod, and had no qualms about letting him know it. Not the behavior of a man who felt he was threatened. "Joe, I'm worried about you! And about me, for that matter! With what's been happening, we can't take chances! I don't want to believe anything bad of her either, I *like* her, a lot, and she seems to be genuine, but what if she's not? What if it's *her*? What if she's working with Dane?" "No, Duncan. I refuse to believe that. I am not that poor a judge of character." "Joe, I have two words for you. James Horton." That was met with silence. After a moment Scully decided she'd heard all she was going to, and moved from behind the pillar to set her glass on the countertop. It took a moment for the men to realize she was there. There was enough tension between them to practically electrify the air around them. MacLeod noticed her first, and stepped back. "I'm sorry, go ahead. We were just talking." She nodded. "I didn't want to interrupt your conversation, but I would like another drink." "Of course." Joe smiled. "Two celery sticks this time?" She smiled. "That would be great!" He was so pleasant to her that it was hard to believe that moments earlier his manner had been clearly angry. MacLeod stood unmoving, arms crossed in a slightly defensive posture. He remained silent as Joe fixed her drink and put two stalks of celery into it with a flourish. "Here you go, that'll be two even. And I'll throw in some free some advice. Don't let him get away with being such a cheap date. Make him take you to dinner." She shook her head, grinning as she handed him her money. "He's not my date, we just work together." Joe shook his head in mock disgust. "Then he's even dumber than I thought." She laughed, delighted by the banter. "You, sir, are a flirt." He grinned back. "Sometimes." "When he's not being surly to his friends." MacLeod muttered slightly petulantly under his breath. She pretended she hadn't heard that and took her drink back to the table. "Enjoy yourself?" Mulder asked drily. "Actually, yes, but I also overheard some interesting things." She took a small notepad out of her pocket and jotted down the names she'd overheard. "Something about they way they talked makes me think they *know* what's been happening. They seemed worried, and MacLeod had been checking up on a woman he thought might be a threat. He also mentioned a couple of other names in that context. We can check those out, if nothing else." Mulder was frowning. "They know about the murders?" "I can't say for sure, but MacLeod talked about `what's been happening' and `not taking chances'. I suppose he could have been referring to just about anything, but considering the fact that the bartender has the tattoo, it seems logical to assume that they were talking about the murders." Mulder nodded, looking distracted. "Interesting. If they perceive a threat *toward* themselves as opposed to against someone else..." he shook his head. "I hate it when things get complicated. And I still want to know what those tattoos are all about. It's like it's some sort of secret club or something!" He suddenly sat up straight. "Let's go back to the station. I need to call someone, and I don't want to do it from here." Scully nodded and finished her drink. "I wonder if they have a vending machine at the station?" she said wistfully, digging a five-dollar bill out of her wallet and laying it on the table to cover the tip. "I still need food." "What, pretzels and celery sticks don't do it for you?" She shook her head. "You owe me lunch, Mulder. No, make it dinner. Seafood, preferably." "After we pick up the car we can stop by a Burger King and get you a Whaler." "Don't start with me, Mulder, or the next decapitation in Seattle is likely to be yours. With a plastic knife." **** Subject: In the Dark 4/14 --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Joe watched the woman finish her drink, and then she and her friend stood to leave. He nodded toward them. "Pretty lady," he commented quietly to Duncan. MacLeod shrugged. "Was she? I didn't notice." Joe shook his head. "You *must* be preoccupied. I've never known you not to notice an attractive woman before!" Duncan smiled a little and studied her covertly as she walked up the stairs. "She is, isn't she? Kind of a forties-look, with those lips. The suit's a bit too staid for her, though." "I don't know, it seemed okay to me." Duncan eyed him, taking in the flannel shirt he wore over an old Harley-Davidson t-shirt, and lifted an eyebrow. "Fashion wisdom coming from someone who's gotten into `grunge' at your age? That's coming it a bit strong if you ask me." "I haven't had a chance to do laundry, and these were clean." "You need a maid." "Not on your life! I don't want anyone poking around in my stuff, thanks. Neither should you, if it comes right down to it. If someone were to find the Watcher files..." "Point taken. Speaking of Watchers, any more news?" Joe nodded grimly. "This one's the worst yet, Los Angeles, three days ago, and this time the young woman our man was dating was also killed. She wasn't even a Watcher, for God's sake!" "Have you heard from Dane's Watcher yet?" Joe shook his head. "No, and I'm starting to worry. Dane could have killed him too." "It's possible. Three days ago... wasn't that the same day Dane was seen in northern California? Joe nodded. "Damn. California isn't all that far from here. Joe, I think you should start carrying your gun." "What for? It wouldn't do me any good!" "If you can put him down long enough that he has to spend time healing, it should give you the time you need to get away, or even long enough to use your Bowie to make it permanent." Joe nodded grimly. "You have a point." "Have you alerted the other Watchers here?" Joe nodded. "I put out a network-wide alert last night, and asked everyone to keep their eyes open for Dane." "Good. I told Richie this morning, and he's going up to warn Amanda and Michelle. Look, I know I shouldn't ask this, but will you tell me who the victims are so far? You don't have to give me the Watcher's names, but I'd like to know who the Immortals were." Joe sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then nodded. "You'll find out eventually anyway, but you're not going to like it." He grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen, and began to write. After a moment he handed the list to MacLeod, his mouth set. Duncan took it, ran down the list, and looked up at Joe, his face ashen. "Joe... these are all students of mine! Every one of them is someone I've mentored! Damn it, he's doing this to get to *me*!" Joe nodded. "I know, Duncan. I realized that last night." Duncan looked again at the last name on the list and closed his eyes, leaning against the counter. Kwame Bere. They had been friends since the Civil War, and they'd just spoken a bare three weeks earlier, trying to find time to get together. To his surprise he felt the sting of tears behind his closed eyelids... something he'd not felt in a long time. He remembered Guinan's words to him the night before and knew she was right. He also felt a stirring of guilt for wondering if she were somehow involved in all this. But how could he not wonder? "Duncan?" He straightened and opened his eyes. Joe was watching him, clearly concerned. "It never gets any easier." Duncan said quietly. A moment later the pain was subsumed by anger. "I want him," he said, his voice flat. "And I'll have him." "You'd be doing the world a favor, but Mac, can you beat him? He's taken a lot of Quickenings lately, he could be stronger than you are." "He could be," Duncan admitted, then he lifted an eyebrow, "but I'm better." Joe grinned. "Don't get cocky." "I'm not. Just confident." "Good." Joe looked up at the empty stage for a moment, then back. "Mac, you don't really think she's got anything to do with this, do you?" Duncan sighed. "I don't know what to think. I suppose it's just barely possible to exist in the world without a paper trail of some sort, but it certainly looks damning from here." "Your own past might look as mysterious to an outsider." Joe pointed out reasonably. "Once, perhaps, but in recent years I've always been careful to make an identity trail for every persona I've adopted. Joe, I know how to create a paper-trail. I know what a real one looks like and what a fake one looks like, but this is the first time I've ever come up against one that was utterly nonexistent! Why?" "There could be any number of reasons why someone might use an assumed name. She's a singer, it could just be her stage name." "True," Duncan admitted grudgingly. "But then why didn't she tell us her real name?" "Why should she? It's not like we're long-time friends. We've barely met. Who knows? Maybe she likes to play games." Was she playing some sort of game? The woman who had helped him through last night's bout of depression had not struck him as a game- player. Duncan had to acknowledge Joe's point that they were not close, though after last night, she had seemed so. He wasn't sure how Joe would feel about the time he'd spent with Guinan, so he didn't mention it, though in truth there was nothing to hide. Hiding... "Maybe she's hiding from someone." That idea made him feel marginally better. It was a motivation he could understand. "She doesn't seem the type to hide," Joe said, dubiously. "She doesn't seem the type to play games, either." "True." "Maybe you should just *ask* her," said someone behind them. Duncan spun, startled, to find the woman in question standing not three feet from him, her arms crossed, with an expression that looked suspiciously like amusement on her face. #### Guinan stood at the entrance to the bar and waited for the couple who were coming out. They were a good-looking pair, the woman short, rounded, and red-haired, the man tall, lean and dark. At odds with their looks, they appeared tense, distracted and almost grim. The man studied her as he moved past, his gray-green gaze disturbingly sharp and analytic. She nodded politely as he passed, wondering vaguely why he looked so suspicious. Had she'd met him before? She didn't think so. They paused a moment beneath the overhang to fasten their coats against the rain, and she caught just a bit of their conversation as she opened the door to the bar. "...on those autopsy reports from the other killings, and find out if there are any similarities. Who are you going to call?" the woman was asking her companion. "An old professor of mine from Oxford. He's a medieval historian, but he sidelights writing pop books on secret societies like the Templars, the Rosicrucians, that sort of thing. If anyone can identify that tattoo, it's probably him." "Secret societies, Mulder? That's a bit farfetched," the red-head chided softly, fond amusement in her voice. "What about this case *isn't*?" the man answered her, then stepped out into the rain. Guinan shivered. Not a pleasant subject at all. No wonder they looked grim. They must be police officers. That would account for the man's mannerisms. She pushed open the door to the bar and found the atmosphere inside no less somber than that outside. Duncan was at the counter, apparently arguing with Joe, his bright aura dampened by strong emotions. She sighed. So much for the work she'd done with him last night. He was in pain again, and this time there were nuances of fear and anger as well. Joe's normally calm presence seemed substantially awry as well. She moved closer and listened to them for a moment. After a few sentences she realized with some amusement that they were arguing about *her.* She had sensed that they were both attracted to her, but this didn't seem like that sort of alpha-male bickering. She had to admit that she felt rather attracted to both of them, unfortunately no matter what the attraction, one of the first rules of Visitation was that you simply didn't get involved with the natives *that* way; which at times was both a damned shame and a real nuisance. However, she thought she ought to break this nonsense up before it got any worse. She moved forward, and stopped just behind them. They didn't notice. She crossed her arms and waited for them to look up, and they didn't. Finally, she interrupted their tennis-match of a conversation. "Maybe you should just ask her," she said quietly. Duncan turned, obviously startled. Joe looked just as surprised. It was hard not to be amused by them, but she did manage not to smile. Was that a *blush* beneath Duncan's five-o-clock shadow? What *had* they been discussing? "Ah... Guinan... hi," he stammered, clearly at a loss. =========================================================================