Home

Back to Stories

Back to Dana's Legacy

The Return of Connor MacLeod

by 3D Master (3dmaster@telfort.nl)

Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting

February 15, 2378

Space Station Cochrane

Earth Orbit

Reginald Barclay nervously balanced from one foot to the other. He looked out the window with increasing nervousness. His casual dress showed he was off duty at the moment

“Sh-shouldn’t we be seeing them b-by now? A-a little d-d-dot of, of light at-at least?” he asked, making himself even more nervous in the process. He started pacing around the beautiful hall of the station. The hallways were decorated with civilian passengers and waiting family members in mind. The station had no uniform color scheme, each section was differently colored and decorated to achieve maximum recognition and comfort. This section had a smooth, comforting green dominated motive. For contrast, plants from Andoria, genetically engineered to survive in the relative heat, were placed in places around the hallways. Their stems were bright blue, yellow, or white, with several differently colored leaves.

Duncan MacLeod looked at the nervous man and grunted, “Will you please stop doing that?”

“I-I’m s-sorry, I c-can- . . .” Reginald stopped in mid-sentence, his eyes widening in shock and fear. MacLeod looked out the window at his reaction and saw a Klingon Bird of Prey shimmering into view, dropping its cloak, extremely close to the station and it still had an enormous speed. His eyes widened in the same way as Reginald’s, and both of them stood nailed to floor in fear. The ship decelerated rapidly and then, just as it would have crashed into the station, it veered to the left just a tiny bit, and neatly clicked into the docking port.

The Immortal and the mortal both let out a deep sigh of relief. The feeling of the warning buzz assaulted MacLeod’s senses then. Reginald commented, “Did-dn-n’t they s-say they w-were coming in a Bird of Prey?”

MacLeod just looked at him in irritation that was really aimed at the passengers of said Bird of Prey. “No, they didn’t,” he told him slightly angry.

A few minutes later the airlock slid aside and Dana stepped through. “Reg!” she exclaimed the moment she saw him. She ran to him, and pulled him into an embrace, before pulling him down and giving him a passionate kiss, press her short dress and coat clad body against his. Reginald on his part, seemed much more comfortable now, as he kissed Dana back with the same passion.

“Kids these days. Right, MacLeod?” an amused voice said. Duncan turned his head to regard the second person to come out of the Klingon ship.

“M- Edward,” MacLeod greeted, almost slipping up. MacLeod turned back to Dana and scolded her, “I can’t believe you performed such a stunt.”

Dana managed to tear her lips away from her boyfriend for a moment, regarded Duncan uncomprehending before her face lit up in revelation and said, “I wasn’t the one piloting.”

MacLeod’s eyes widened in disbelief, his face looking totally dumbfounded. Dana giggled before returning to kiss her boyfriend. MacLeod turned to look at Methos, five-thousand-year-old survivor, self-proclaimed avoider of risks did that?

Methos eyebrow rose, as he told MacLeod, “That wasn’t a risk, MacLeod. That was good flying.” Duncan’s eyes widened in even greater disbelief. “Don’t look at me like that. Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t pilot a ship. Hell, I’ve always been good at driving things, I remember a first place at a chariot race once.”

Surprised Reg broke the kiss and looked up at Methos, asking, “You’re that old!?”

“Don’t mind him, Reg,” Dana whispered, snuggling up to him with a satisfied smile. “He’s just annoyed he’s lost his pezas over the years.”

“I /lost/ my pezas!?” Methos asked insulted, and deciding the insult was a good reason to start toward the way down to the planet. As he walked away he said with a snort, “I could show all of you a thing or two about pezas any day of the week.”

The other three followed him as he walked through the hallway, Dana’s high heels clicking on the hard floor. None of them bothered to look at the artwork that hung around. Dana and Reginald had eyes only for each other, MacLeod had seen all the works before in his long life, and Methos . . . well, who really knows what Methos thinks anyway.

“Why are you here, Reg?” Dana asked curiously, walking next to him on his left. She hadn’t expected her boyfriend of the last few months to actually be there waiting for her.

The group rounded a corner, reaching a dirty white section of the station with a greater amount of benches, signs, shops, and people. Barclay answered, “You disappear on me without saying anything to me or to the Federation Ambassadorial Core, and then just as suddenly you, as if nothing is the matter, call up MacLeod where he can pick you and this dude up . . .” Barclay narrowed his index finger and thumb together, “This close to your teacher’s wedding that had been planned for weeks. Of course I’m going to be here.”

Dana looked up at him and smiled. She loved the more confident Barclay; the same way she liked his still always present insecurities. She then grasped his left arm and cuddled her face against his arm, “Hmm, I had almost forgotten how nice it is to have somebody that cares this much about you.” Barclay seemed a little placated, but he was Barclay, never truly secure, his silence attested to that. Dana removed her head from his arm and said, by way of apology, “You can’t really communicate when you get kidnapped.” Dana felt him tense up and he looked down at her with a stricken face. “Relax,” Dana soothed him, for a moment she checked if no-one could over here. The group turned around a corner entering a light ethereal blue section, the color almost white. “I can’t die, remember.”

“I also know, you can, and that there are lu-. . .” Barclay almost shouted out in horror. Dana’s finger on his moth cut him short.

“Ssh,” she said. She looked around to check on other people around her, “Be careful, and you know something like that could happen, nothing to be done about it, so don’t worry about it either. Besides, no . . . “ Dana checked around, “sword-wielding maniacs this time . . . well, no . . .” Her voice lowered to whisper now that she had to say the secret word, “/immortal/ ones anyway, except him of course.”

Reginald calmed down some as her strong, reassuring eyes seemed to invade his mind enveloping him with a comforting blanket. “What about the ones who kidnapped you?”

Dana grinned and told him, “Where do you think we got the ship?”

Meanwhile between MacLeod and Methos the conversation had reached the same point, starting with MacLeod stating he didn’t know Methos owned a Klingon Bird Of Prey, Methos answering he didn’t up until a few days ago, and then MacLeod asking what he was going to do with it. “We’re thinking about turning it into a cruise ship, right Dana?” Methos asked smiling slyly.

“Yep,” she told all of them. “‘See the Federation in an authentic Klingon Bird Of prey’, we think it’ll be a big hit.”

Methos nodded, “Part of it we’ll rebuild; nicely furnished and comfortable beds, pools, a stage, and stuff, and leaving a small part in its original state.”

“For the ones who really want to go native,” Dana clarified with a grin.

“Of course we can also use it for private transportation whenever we need it,” Methos added with a smile.

“My girlfriend the entrepreneur,” Reginald said with a grin.

MacLeod shook his head in disbelief. “So, it’s about time you two got married, how long has it been since you got engaged?” Methos asked casually. “Two years?”

“More like one and a half years, barely,” MacLeod told Methos with a scowl on his face. The group passed a fountain, but since all of them had seen it plenty of times already, due to the Immortals’ age, and Barclay career in Starfleet. Since the fleet couldn’t afford to send him a starship every time he went somewhere, his was intimately familiar with the station. MacLeod added, “We’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” Dana told him with a broad smile. “Having sex three days straight.” When MacLeod looked at her in disbelief her smile widened, and she said, “Don’t be shy, Mac. I know what the Pon Farr entails.”

Duncan smiled back at her, and as the group reached the proper transporter room, he said, “Among other things.” Dana laughed once.

A minute later, the four of them beamed down to Scotland.

*****

Scotland

Later

“Nice place,” Methos commented dryly.

“Yeah, it is,” MacLeod answered. They stood at the start of the lane that led to the farmhouse, which had the size of a mansion. It was beautifully built and rebuilt, parts of it were ancient, or at least in a style a minimum of five hundred years old, other parts looked like they were built yesterday. It was surrounded by flowing hills of grassland, and patches of forest. The farm had barns for animals and farming equipment in the back, where there was a larger open space from which different things could be done that required an open space. To the right of the house there was a large garden, surrounded by tall hedges, and in the middle a big lawn was present.

The group walked onward, Dana and Reginald in an embrace. Dana whispered, “You’ve been here already, how are the beds? Are they worthy of a proper shake down.”

Reg looked down at her and saw the twinkles in her eyes. “Quite, I’d say. No need for a cheap motel room.”

Dana chuckles silently. “Where does that saying come from anyway; ‘a cheap motel room’?” Reg asked nonplussed. “Wouldn’t that result in a bad motel room? I would think you would want to bring your date to a good motel room.”

Dana laughed out loud, earning her two men looking back at her. She gestured them away, managed to get her laughter back under control and looked up at the dumbfounded look of her boyfriend. She promptly laughed again, and managed to gasp out through her laughs, “I’ll explain to you later.”

Moments later they arrived at a small and narrow path to the entrance to the mansion. The door opened at that point. A pinkish alien with horns and after he smiled a pair of razor sharp fangs became visible. “Mr. MacLeod!” the alien exclaimed happily. Methos and Dana looked at each other for a moment, they had been under the impression MacLeod had been here for a few days, this seemed a little too jubilant for. “I’m so glad you’re back. Every time you use that accursed transporter I am relieved you return intact without your molecules scattered around the galaxy.” Dana gave Reginald an amused grin.

MacLeod turned to them, and explained. “Twenty years ago, I saved them from being sold into slavery. They’re from a not that advanced species. Takahashi, I still can’t pronounce his real name, and his family saw me come back to life in front of their eyes. I didn’t have much use for this place, so I gave it to them. I bought it once to keep it from being torn down.”

“And for as long me, my family and my descendants live her, you shall be welcome here,” Takahashi answered with a brought smile. “Friends of Mr. MacLeod are welcome as well, come in, come in!”

*****

Later that day

Pub

The beers were set down before the two. The waitress smiled seductively at Duncan MacLeod. Duncan smiled back; he was a man, and the uniform that showed of her cleavage looked to good on her to completely ignore. The pub was nostalgic, but ancient was more like it. It had been standing here for at least seven hundred years. Almost as old as MacLeod himself. The MacLeod family sword hung there, in a beautifully crafted wall mount. The sword was moved though, no longer on the central support pole of the pub slash inn. It was now off to the side; now part of a small place reserved for ‘The Legend of Duncan MacLeod and the Viking Kanwulf’. The little exhibit, that included the twentieth century novel series, ‘Blade Of The MacLeod’s’, based on the legend, had a small place reserved for ‘The Legend of Connor MacLeod, the demon of fire’. A small sign said, ‘Just ask and anyone will tell about it.’ The insides of the pub were as Scottish as they came, most of it made of wood.

Dana and Duncan both take sips from their beer. “I owe you a big time, Dana. I’m indebted to you for a very long time, if not forever,” Duncan said heavily.

“Oh?” Dana said, thinking that if he started a conversation like this every time they started drinking beer, she wouldn’t be drinking it with him again. Before the beer they had such a nice, although pointless, conversation, now this.

“T’Lerra came this close to dying by that virus,” Duncan explained, his fingers closing almost together to indicate how close. “I didn’t find out about the exact circumstances of the cure until recently, and a mysterious decapitation of an already dead man, and your name. You infected yourself, didn’t you?”

Dana nodded. “I don’t really want to talk about in. Diego had gone completely bonkers, he thought if he had the prize he could bring his dead wife back to life, so he set about bringing the Gathering out a little earlier than scheduled, if it is scheduled at all.”

“Dana,” Duncan began again. He hesitated, took another draught from his beer. Thinking things over he said, “You’ve progressed more than impressively. You’re no longer my student, you’re my equal, you are my friend . . . you have no idea how much good that does me.”

“Oh?” Dana questioned, drinking some more beer.

“Most of the students I had before you . . . I don’t really have a great record when it comes to that . . . I have even been forced to kill a few,” Duncan told her solemnly. Dana knew about ‘Richie’, but not that much about MacLeod’s life, or his students before the twentieth century. She stayed silent. “I was very apprehensive of taking on another student, I’m glad I did. Taking you on showed me not all my students are doomed to a short life.”

“I’m glad I could help by living,” Dana answered with a smile. She took another swallow of beer and grinned at MacLeod.

MacLeod smiled back. “So how about Voyager’s return?” he said switching to what he thought was a lighter topic. It was always best to put some breathing room in between rougher subjects. Dana’s face darkened though, a scowl of frustration adorned her otherwise beautiful face. “Not good?” MacLeod asked.

“That’s an understatement,” Dana answered, eyeing her beer with trepidation. “If the Borg attack again, I’m not so certain we can win, MacLeod. Before I had a little optimism, now . . .”

“Is it really that bad?” Duncan asked quite concerned, he had never seen Dana this pessimistic before.

“Yes, let’s keep it at that,” Dana told him with a sad smile. “Voyager’s return is much less happy behind the scenes.”

Duncan stayed silent, absorbing the information. On screen Voyager’s return seemed jubilant, the returning heroes, he had never considered this. “Research in defensive measures against the Borg has radically changed course, I still have hope something comes out of that before they attack, but if it doesn’t.”

“So how about Reginald,” Duncan said, hoping this subject was a lot less depressing.

Dana smiled wistfully. “Reg, hmm. I had started to think I had gotten too old to fall head over heels in love with someone. I thought that all relationships would start after a long courtship and a very good examination of who and what a person is. Then Reginald comes along, trips over my legs and I’m gone, love struck dummy takes over.”

“I like love-struck-dummy Dana,” Duncan told her with a grin, the depressing subject of before forgotten. Dana blushed lightly in embarrassment. “She’s fun to be around.”

Dana grinned, and gave a short laugh. “I know what you’re going to say, he doesn’t exactly seem top notch, but he’s a man after my heart. Of course these days, anyone can be after my heart, but still, despite his flaws, I’m in love with him, it’s as simple as that.” Duncan smiled at her, that was exactly the way he felt about T’Lerra. “And once I had him calmed down enough with the realization that I wasn’t going anywhere, that he really had conquered my heart, he became a bit more secure . . .” Dana grinned mischievously at Duncan before continuing, “and the sex, oh the sex, willing to experiment, to . . .”

MacLeod raised his hand. “Hold it,” he interrupted, “You’re my friend, but I don’t want to hear all the sordid details of your sex life.”

“I, on the other hand, do want to hear yours. How is T’Lerra working out in that department?” Dana asked him with a wide evil grin.

“Let’s just say, that even though Vulcans go into Pon Farrr only once in seven years, it is a mistaken assumption that that means they can only make love once in seven years,” Duncan answered euphemistically.

Dana grinned even wider, eyes sparkling with amusement. “So she does perform the marital obligations, even though technically speaking she doesn’t have them yet?”

Duncan just had to tell someone. He leaned over conspiratory, Dana followed suit and said softly. “No telling, to no one. She is very uncomfortable about this, but ever since the bonding during the Pon Farr, her body chemistry mistakes a simple case of a little arousal, an impromptu fantasy, a little reaction to a very beautiful woman as the onsets of Pon Farr. She gets . . . very aroused.”

Dana’s eyes were wide, and then she exclaimed, “You lucky dog!”

“Shhh.”

Dana lowered her voice, “If I didn’t have Reginald already, I’d go and find myself a Vulcan to find out.”

Duncan grinned for a moment and then asked, “So what do you think of T’Lerra?”

“From what I’ve just seen, beautiful, she’s Vulcan, that’s all I have to say about her mental prowess, and she seems quite reasonable and not all ‘superior than thou’ like some Vulcans I know and have known . . . I’d say you’re perfect for each other,” Dana contemplated out loud.

“I’m glad, I think a marriage will go a lot better if the friends like the significant other,” Duncan commented.

*****

The heavier subjects resolved, the two spend another hour chatting about this and that before they left the pub. They walked along the idyllic village on the shores of Loch Shiel, until they rounded a corner and the familiar sensation of an approaching Immortal assaulted them. They looked in its direction and a few meters off an unfamiliar Immortal stood. He immediately drew his sword, a katana with a black obsidian handle, and said, “I am John MacLeod. Who the hell are you?”

Dana’s and Duncan’s jaws dropped in surprised recognition. There could be only one Immortal John MacLeod, unless . . . the guy knew and was playing them. If so this guy was more than good, he was exactly what one would expect he would look like from Connor’s accounts. And the boy even had a katana which fitted the description of the sword that belonged to Kane before Connor killed him.

“Well!?” the man answered, spooked when the two just gaped at him.

Dana recovered the fastest, since she had less invested in Connor MacLeod. She was his on and off again lover, while Duncan was Connor’s student, brother and that through six hundred years. She answered, “I’m Dana Katherine Scully and this is . . .”

Duncan answered himself, his Scottish brogue returning full force, “I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.”

“The hell you are,” John answered wearily with a hint of vehemence. “My father told me Duncan MacLeod is dead.”

 Duncan and Dana looked at each other in revelation, silently they communicated the same thing: understanding of a tragedy. “Your father was Connor MacLeod, was he not?” Dana asked.

John’s grip on his sword, pointing upward along his face, and stance became more ready to fight. “Yes,” he answered carefully.

“He was mistaken,” Duncan answered a gently as he could muster. “Your father has been looking for you before his death, for a very long time.”

“You people are nuts, or pure evil,” John spat angrily. “My father died a long time ago, when I was still a kid, and he never needed to look for me.”

“Connor MacLeod died on September 29, 2209,” Duncan said with conviction. “I was there, I saw his head get taken.”

Dana was feeling John was slipping away, “Look, we can prove it. We’ve got pictures, letters, video’s from when he was still alive.” Dana hesitated for a moment, she knew this could be the biggest mistake she would ever make, but this was Connor’s son . . . or somebody playing the part perfect. And even if he was Connor’s son, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t use the advantage. With a dreadful feeling, part fear, she pulled out her sword and threw it on the ground in between them. Duncan followed suit, he was still too dumbfounded to take charge of the situation, and Dana knew this. “We will explain how come he was mistaken about Duncan, why you thought he was dead, while he wasn’t, just give us a chance. There is a pub nearby, we go have a drink, we tell the whole story, and if you don’t like it you can go. If you think there’s a chance we might not be lying, we’ll go to where we have some evidence and prove it to you.”

John looked at them hesitantly, they were rather convinced of their story he sensed, then he slowly bent through his knees, keeping an eye on them constantly. He picked up the swords one by one, and hid them inside his long coat, as he did this he said, “Lead the way, but I hold onto these for now.”

Dana nodded and resolutely turned around, fear ripping through her chest. This was the moment, the guy could have played them perfectly, then their heads would come of now. Duncan followed suit, they gave each other a nervous smile and started walking. They heard him struggle with putting away a third sword in his coat, but somehow he managed. MacLeod and Dana sighed with relief and she asked, “Why did you come here, and do you come here more often?”

The man, who claimed to be John MacLeod, was wearing clothes, including the long coat, that were made from a substance that looked like leather, but could just as easily be a far superior artificial replacement. The man looked to be in his low thirties, but could just as easily have died in his early twenties, or early forties. With Immortals you were never sure; the constantly regenerating and thus baby-like skin could throw anyone for a loop. “I came here because I lived here once with my father, because I knew it was his birth place, because I wanted to go here again before I died for good. Reasons enough for you?” the man answered, still careful.

Dana answered, “Yes. Here it is.”

The two immortal men and one immortal woman went back inside the pub and they sat back down in a bench.

“All right, start talking,” John said harshly.

MacLeod launched into the story Connor had once told him, and remembering the event as if it happened only minutes ago.

~~X~~

Chapter 2: Connor Returns

August 13, 2003

Barcelona

In a back alley, Duncan’s katana landed on his opponent’s double edged sword with a clang. The white man with pitch black hair was crouched down, holding the enraged Highlander at bay with all his strength. His wore sports shoes, jeans and a sweater. The long coat he had worn lay discarded a few meters off.

“YOU DARE THIS!! CONNOR MACLEOD IS DEAD!!” Duncan raged at the man.

“Duncan, ‘t is me,” the man answered with a Scottish accent that was particularly off, as if the man’s mouth was incapable of performing the proper movements. “I am Connor MacLeod. Look into my eyes and say it isn’t so. I was born in 1518 in Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel. My first death was at the hands of the Kurgan in a battle in 1536. My first wife’s name was Heather. I found you on the battle grounds in 1625. I taught you an almost unstoppable move in Italy.”

“You lie!” Duncan countered, but there was a hint of doubt creeping in his voice. The man claiming to be Connor MacLeod rolled backwards to avoid one of Duncan’s swings. The next one he blocked, locking the two together again.

“Look into my eyes, Duncan,” the man said, letting go of the sword with his left hand and pointing two fingers directly at his eyes. “You married a woman named Kate, you’ve had a relationship with a blonde woman named Tessa for twelve years, after the death of your Indian lover and the destruction of her tribe, you went to live on Holy Ground where I came looking for you, we never say ‘Goodbye’ just greet each other with our names.”

“You could have found that knowledge if you looked hard enough,” Duncan spat, knowing the watchers, and considering the option of wiping them off the face of the Earth for just one moment.

“Then ask me some things only I could know!” the man said, hopeful now.

Duncan looked at the man. The concept was ridiculous, he killed Connor himself. Yet there was something about the man. “Connor once thanked god, and meaning it he never had something, what?” Duncan asked grimly, their swords stayed locked, the two faces close, facing each other.

“The choice between triggering a lover’s immortality, or watching her grow old and die, knowing you could stop it,” the man answered resolutely.

“When you met me and Tessa, I had told her about the Game. Which part did she think was the most poetic?” Duncan asked, looking into the man’s eyes, that had an eery resemblance to Connor’s, even thought they looked nothing alike.

“She didn’t think there was anything poetic at all, and you hadn’t told her about the Game yet, we told her together,” Connor answered, grinning.

Duncan blinked his eyes. He looked, he looked closer and asked, “Connor?”

“Duncan,” Connor answered him confidently. The two lowered their swords. Then Duncan rushed forward and embraced the man. The two stepped apart.

Duncan looked Connor over, and asked, “What in damnation is going on?”

Connor put his sword away, grinning he said, “That’s a long story, one better told in a more private setting.”

*****

Duncan and Dana’s apartment

Later

With a big grin on his face Duncan introduced the two. “Connor, this a recent student of mine, about one and a half years now, Dana Scully. Dana, this is my long lost, and thought dead, teacher, Connor MacLeod.”

The two shook hands. Dana looked into the man’s eyes, brown, and they twinkled with amusement. She hated him immediately, and his appearance was exactly the opposite of what she found attractive. For one thing way too short, she looked in his eyes without having to raise her head, she didn’t know why, but she preferred tall men. “Another MacLeod,” she commented, with a mixture of irritation and amusement.

“Same clan, better vintage,” Connor told her, and looked down at himself. “Although you can’t see it now, but with some luck . . . who knows.” Dana looked confused but chose to say nothing.

They sat down in the sparsely furnished room, and Dana and Duncan looked at Connor expectantly.

“Where to begin?” Connor said. He contemplated for a moment and then continued. “Might as well do it at the beginning . . . Several centuries ago, I wandered around Japan and came across an ancient Immortal, named Nakano. He was both ancient in years, as in appearance. He must have had his first death in his sixties or seventies. He had a rather impressive ability to create illusions. Back then I called it magic, today a strange form of telepathy. He trained me, taught me things I didn’t know yet. Around the time my training with him was complete, another ancient Immortal showed up. His name was Kane, I have no idea how old he really was, I’m not really fond of digging in the memories of a sadistic bastard like that. He had two cronies with him. Nakano bought my escape with his life, the Quickening sealed Kane and his cronies inside.

Connor paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to continue. “We’ll come back to them later. First I’ll tell you about beating the Kurgan. At the time I thought I was the last, that I had won the Prize, hell, even the Kurgan thought the two of us were the last ones on the planet. It was a few years after that, I was living in Scotland with a new love, Brenda. Since I thought I was the last, and since I had imprinted myself a prize, mortality, the ability to have children, to hear the thoughts of the entire world . . . all wrong, and Brenda must have known, because a few times I ‘read’ her mind. We adopted a child, because she was born infertile, or so she said . . . I think she didn’t want me to face the possibility that I was mistaken, that she could just ignore it and the Game wouldn’t find me, that we could live out her life happy. We named him John MacLeod. I chose the boy because he felt a little strange, I should have known then what it meant, but I didn’t, after all I was the last. Brenda, of course was mistaken with her happy growing old theory, for one day when I returned home . . .

~~O~~

December, 1987

Connor came up the little hill to their house a few miles from Oban,. Just a few minutes driving from the town. The moment he turned of the car’s engine the familiar, and now horrifying sensation of a nearby Immortal made itself known. At once the illusion shattered, like a giant window crashing down, the sensation that he could sense the minds of everyone on the planet disappeared, like it never had been there.

Connor’s eyes widened in horror, and disbelief. It just couldn’t be; he was the last, wasn’t he? He jumped out of the car and ran toward the house. The door opened at that moment and a grinning man stepped outside. A scar across his right eye, accentuating the horrible, evil, amused grin. A sword that seemed ancient and well kept, slung leisurely across his shoulder, the hilt had a peculiar, straight cornered design, bending back toward the blade, two triangles were present on either side of the blade, so that, when one pulled sword out of a skewered individual, one would pull his or her intestines out along with it.

~~O~~

“Kronos,” Duncan whispered at Connor’s description.

“You know him?” Connor asked with a grim look. Dana looked back and forth between the two with interest. The way they treated each other, as equals, yet with some respectful deference from Duncan was quite odd.

“Oh, yeah. At least four thousand years old, The End of Time as he called himself. I took his head in 1997,” Duncan supplied, with the same look.

“Impressive, very impressive,” Connor the Wrong answered, “because this guy was good, Duncan. Real good.”

~~O~~

“Well, well,” the man started with a British-like accent that had too much other influences to pinpoint the man’s true origins. “If it isn’t the Highlander. You know I was expecting Osta Vasilek, but you’ll do just fine.” He gave a chilling laugh.

“If you’ve harmed them . . .” Connor warned, pulling out his katana, his eyes a mixture of disbelief, anger, and terror as if caught in a nightmare. Despite the fact that he thought he was the last, the instinct to always be close to his sword was just too ingrained to eliminate so easily . . . or perhaps on some instinctual level he always knew he wasn’t the last.

“Oh, don’t worry, MacLeod,” Kronos said with a grin. “I’m not so stupid to kill a man’s loved ones. Has a habit of letting a man become rather enraged, and filled with adrenaline, too big a chance he feels so little pain, he’ll accidentally overpowers you. Now that doesn’t mean they can’t get hurt if you don’t get to them on time; you see, now you’re worrying too much about your wife and kid to be able to balance yourself.” Kronos took a step forward and looked deeper into Connor’s eyes. Confusion, terror, played around them. “Oh, come now, Highlander, you didn’t really think you were the last, did you?” Connor didn’t answer, too gripped by the horrible spectacle before him. It shouldn’t be possible. Kronos laughed. “It seems you did. About a decade back I got rather caught up in the notion that the Gathering had started, that I had to go somewhere to fight. It didn’t last long, I’m just too plain old and powerful to be fooled by tricks like that. I found an Osta Vasilek, who was using this gift he had gotten a hold of; to project a powerful hypnotic suggestion into someone’s mind telepathically. Apparently he made a few Immortals come together and fight till there was only one left, and then he’d take that head, thus his power would grow rapidly, and he hardly had to do any effort to get it. At first I was going to kill him for trying it on me, but I decided otherwise: it would be far more fun to watch from afar the chaos he’d create, until somebody got to him, or I decided he’d live long enough of course.”

Kronos walked around, grinning as he displayed his superior knowledge. “Then about three years back, suddenly the suggestion the Gathering has started spreads across the entire world, instead of just a handful Osta chose. Now, eventually I decided that was just a little too much for my liking, so I went to follow the suggestion and hunt him down . . . it led me to you.” Kronos pointed his sword at Connor suavely, before slinging it back to his shoulder. “It seems the Kurgan was influenced by the suggestion, but instead of being a nice boy and joining the Gathering, he came for Osta first, and once he took his head, he kept the suggestion unwittingly intact, his craving for power, and the Prize apparently burning in him to such an extend, he just had to grasp any little thing that came his way. And you did the same, actually using the power on yourself, making you think you had the price. How very ironic, don’t you think? Especially since you have to realize this is all my fault. The Kurgan was scared of me. I wiped out his tribe once, well came close too. Always leave a few alive so the legend can grow, it turned the Kurgans from a relatively nice tribe to a tribe of destruction, out for revenge and following me, and my brothers’ MO. Mr. Big Shot went to do the same, revenge on me to be exact. Hunted down every Immortal he could find to become powerful enough to beat me. He came to fight me several times, thinking he had, kicked his butt every time, let him live twice, just for the fun of it. The other three times he managed to escape with his neck intact with pure luck. That’s why he was so desperate to believe you really were the last, it would mean I was dead, it would mean he didn’t have to face his nightmare ever again.” Kronos laughed out loud at that. Kronos went into a battle stance, and grinned. “Shall we?”

~~O~~

“It took him no more than two minutes to disarm me, and have his sword at my neck. He was right, worrying about my family really had caused me to make mistakes and not pay attention, but even then, it should have lasted longer, I’m not even sure I could beat him, if I were at my best, and had nothing to worry over. It would have been close,” Connor said, continuing his tale. “Then he said, and I quote, ‘How pathetic, you’re supposed to be the great Highlander?’

“I remembered what he said about Osta’s power then. I placed all my focus on him, in my head going over the mantra, ‘You don’t want my head. You don’t want my head,’ over and over, and then he said, ‘Your head isn’t even worth taking, besides, it is nice to have someone walking around the planet with a deathly fear of me again. Not to mention, now that I think about it, it could be fun watching the chaos enfold of ninety percent of the Immortals running around the globe like chickens without heads, because they think the Gathering has started.’ He put his sword away, and laughed as he looked at me with eyes so cold and evil they still give me chills today. Then he grabbed my head and said, ‘You got lucky, Highlander.’ He started walking off and then added, ‘This time.’ After which he laughed again, and I still don’t know whether that power of Suggestion worked on him or whether he really thought I wasn’t worth the effort, probably a combination of both because I can’t see him just falling for it outright since he already showed he could fight it off.” Connor paused, letting the story sink into the two fellow Immortals engrossed in his story. “When I went inside I found Brenda and John tied up and gagged, nothing to indicate he had planned to hurt them. To this day, again, I still don’t know whether I just interrupted him, or whether he had some other sinister purpose for them. Of course, after that, I did know what the feeling meant, John was a pre-Immortal, although I still didn’t want to give up the notion that the Gathering was near.”

Dana and Duncan looked at the black-haired man with intensity, silently urging him to continue. “A year later Brenda was killed, one day a car just swerved and crashed into our car, she died instantly, I survived, no mortality here. I know now that swerving car was Kell’s doing, but not back then . . . I started to believe there was curse laid on me, and I decided to go as far away from civilization as possible, so that I could keep at least John safe. I moved to the Sahara with him, lived with a small tribe there. Everything went nice, until in 1991 Kane resurfaced. I saw the Quickening, of what must have been him taking one of his cronies’ heads in the Sahara. I had been aware of the archeological digs in the mountain of Niri that year, Nakano’s mountain home. The only way a Quickening could be seen from that far is if it was amplified by that weather device they were building there. Its resulting destruction sent research in that field back at least a few decades. The connection was easily made; Kane wasn’t dead after all, until that moment I had thought that either Kane’s head had come off during the cave in, or he had gotten out already and had lost his head to another Immortal.

“I knew he would come after me to take revenge for being sealed away in that mountain all that time,” Connor continued, remembering the events. “I didn’t want him to be anywhere near John. Since Rachel and I had renamed the antique shop ‘MacLeod and Ellenstein’ instead of Nash, I knew that’s where they would show up first, so I called her up and told her to get out of New York and lock the shop. It took me a week to get from the desert back to New York, where one of Kane’s cronies was practically waiting for me. The only way he and Kane could have gotten to New York so quickly is if they took a head and used the knowledge of the present day to get there. He probably had orders to bring me to Kane alive, but he tried to kill me, probably thinking if he had my head he could defeat his boss. The archeologist excavating Nakano’s cave, one Alex Johnson, found me through a piece of my kilt that had been left there. She was rather tenacious. Followed me even all the way to Scotland after I and Kane fought. There I tried to reforge my blade, because it had been destroyed after Kane attacked me, which was lucky. The shards had destroyed a window allowing Kane to see I wasn’t bluffing when I told him it was Holy Ground we were fighting on. Anyway the woman beautiful, smart, tough personality, she was rather irresistible . . . and a sexy body, talk about smoking hot . . .”

“Hey, I am sitting right here,” Dana interrupted with disdain, folding her arms across her chest.

Connor looked at her and smiled, “Heh, don’t worry, lass. Just because I’ve been with several beautiful women, doesn’t mean I don’t see yours.”

“Of all the brutalities! You, you . . . pig!” Dana exclaimed indignantly. The two men just smiled at her. She threw up her hands in irritation, exclaiming, “Just great! I’m at testosterone central!”

“But,” Duncan said, putting the focus on him, “if that’s so, what was that bit about me ‘getting all the beautiful women lately’.”

Connor gave his patented cross between a laugh and chuckle and it was again disconcerting to here it come from a body that was not Connor’s, worse, it was somehow off. Again the notion flooded Duncan that this body just wasn’t perfectly equipped to pull it off exactly. “Always keep the young ones on their toes, Duncan.”

“Yeah, right, just keep talking, old man,” Duncan told him with mock anger.

Connor laughed again, before continuing, “Anyway the bastard found out about John, and using the Illusion technique he managed to get John to him. Eventually we had a showdown and I won, afterwards we returned to Scotland to spend our lives there, since not many Immortal head hunters really go there, I should have known better . . .”

~~O~~

September, 1991

Scotland

The two Immortals circle each other, one of them happens to have the same body that Connor is wearing in present day. The flowing hills are breathtaking, but neither see it. Their swords clash together furiously, and it is obvious Connor’s body is winning. The man seems to have preternatural ability to know exactly what his opponent does. He takes easy pot shots, and they land all. Every blow and slice is blocked or avoided with graceful ease. The other Immortal grows angry and suddenly attacks with everything he’s got. Connor’s present day body jumps back and easily avoids the blow just barely.

“Uh, uh, Holy Ground,” Connor’s body said with an evil, amused grin. The other Immortal stopped instinctively in his tracks, before getting angry at the jibe and getting ready to attack again. Connor’s body pointed downward and said, “See the sword handle, grave marker of one Heather MacLeod.” The man grinned evilly and looked the other Immortal directly in the eye, he really was on Holy Ground. The man bit his lower lip in frustration. “I must say,” Connor’s body grinned with a mocking amusement, that revealed he didn’t mean a word he said. “That swipe was actually close.” He keeps grinning for a few seconds, and then jumps off the grave to the right. “We can continue now.”

The man worn to the breaking point attacks blindly, and Connor’s body easily disarms the man and brings him to his knees after skewering the man’s chest. He lowered his head toward his opponent and grinning he said, “The name’s Darien Faulconer. Give the devil my regards, and tell him he can add another notch to my score board . . . there can be only one.” The Quickening that followed wasn’t particularly spectacular, but it did hit the remaining hilt of the sword once.

Darien pushed himself up, supporting himself on his knees and one of his hands, looking over the hill to the road below and the lone car driving there. “That’s right, Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. You enjoy yourself while you still can, soon I will be ready for you, and then you’re mine.”

~~O~~

Connor recognized the glazed look in MacLeod’s eyes as he explained what he thought happened that day when he ignored the lightning show in the rearview mirror. A memory intruding.

He continued with his narrative. “A year later an old friend called in a favor. The whole year I felt unease, dread, as if someone or something was preparing something. I was right, with every day I felt more and more I should completely disappear. I took the first flight, but I was too late, Slan Quince had already killed my friend’s entire family; I found the blood bath. I was just in time, too see Slan take his head from a far. Afer I gave my friend and his family a proper burial, I followed the bastard to you. You know the rest.”

Connor got up, and started pacing around, he was starting to get agitated. “The killing of my friend, and his family struck me hard, Duncan, the death of my friend, as well as the similarity between myself losing everyone I love. I had made my decision, coming back to Scotland I married Alex as soon as possible, and then I and my new family would disappear, completely . . . the Sahara, the jungles of Peru, I wasn’t quite certain yet where, but I was certain it was somewhere where no one could find us. One last time I wanted to see you, and Rachel, say goodbye . . . Kell got to her first. The explosion and her death made it clear to me, I had no more time to lose. I got on the first plane back to Scotland. When I arrived, a lightning storm was raging. That was when he decided to strike. Perfect time, which he knew of course, that bastard, Darien Faulconer. . .”

~~O~~

“MacLeod! Connor MacLeod! Highlander!” Darien yelled, grinning evilly. Lightning flashed overhead from a pitch black sky, rain bashed against him, he was soaked through to the bone. “I call you out, MacLeod! There can be only one, and all that!”

Connor looked out the window of his home, looking at the man in anger.

“Connor, don’t go! We’re packed, we’ll slip out the back! And then we disappear,” Alex pleaded, holding John in a fearful embrace.

“You forget, he’s got radar when it comes to me. He’ll know it when I try to leave. I must go. The moment he and I go out there to fight, you leave, I will follow you later,” Connor told them. He opened a wall closet door and pulled out a shotgun. “This will slow any of us down, and if your aim is right, it might even take of our heads. Remember, if I loose he will have all my knowledge, including where we are planning to go. Entrench yourself, make sure you can see him coming a mile away, every moment of every day. If it is him, you disappear again, get plastic surgery if you can. Alex Johnson, archeologist is too well known to stay hidden.”

Alex nodded grimly. “Come on, Connor! You’ve said goodbye long enough, let’s do this!”

Connor walked outside. Darien smiled evilly, and they walked some ways off, toward a nearby cliff, down below the sea. “Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, but you already knew that.”

The main saluted with this double edged sword and said, “Darien Faulconer, the devil’s best ally.” The man grinned as Connor attacked, and he blocked easily. Connor attacked further, both Immortals drenched by now as they were engaged in a furious play of steel against steel. Unexpectantly Darien blocked Connor’s attacks with the same ease has he did the unknown Immortal a year earlier. Suddenly he side stepped one of Connor’s attacks, parried the blow designed to keep him away, and made a nice cut on Connor’s arm. Connor sped up his attacks, but none came through Darien’s blocks.

Connor kept his guard up and needed a rest thinking over his strategy, “Are you the one who killed Rachel!?”

“Oh, no Connor, I’m not your curse,” Darien laughed, standing still, his sword slung over his shoulder in utter arrogance. He would let Connor have his breather, it wouldn’t do him any good. “It’s not even a curse, the name is Jacob Kell.” Darien looked at Connor in amusement as his eyes went wide with recognition and shock, pre-occupying his mind. “That’s right, your old boyhood friend is Immortal as well, and he blames you for his father’s death. Wants to make you suffer for eternity, until only he and you are left, so he can kill you nice and slow. He’s a bit of a cheater, has this whole posse killing for him. He might be my next victim, after I take out his posse first. I think when he finds out you’re dead, that somebody else eliminated his grand scheme of revenge, he’s going to go bonkers. And then he’s ripe for the picking. Of course, with you inside of me Duncan might come first though, hmm . . . decisions, decisions.”

Connor screamed and attacked. Darien parried and counter attacked, slicing MacLeod across the leg. “That’s right, Connor, get angry, make mistakes!” Blocking Connor’s next lunge, brought him within Connor’s guard, and Darien sliced Connor twice across his torso, making him stagger back.

“You know, when I’m done with you, I’m gonna have some fun with your celebrity wife. I’ve always wanted to do a celebrity,” Darien said with a grin. Watching as Connor stayed back, trying to come with a new way to fight the man. What he did was just plain impossible, how did he know exactly what move he was going to make before he even knew himself. And he only came up to MacLeod’s chest! “I’ll kill your son first though, I just can’t seem to perform with an audience. Getting angrier yet?”

“Not really, my wife and son’re long gone,” Connor said with a satisfied grin.

Darien’s faced turned to part mock, part real disappointment. “I’m disappointed MacLeod. I know Ramirez taught you how to sense other beings’ life force, not just the Immortals’ Quickenings. I have the ability too, and your wife and child are still right there. Go ahead and check, I won’t attack.”

Connor refused to be baited that easily. He kept his gaze directly on the infuriating grin of the man, who was so easily beating him. But Connor did check, keeping his guard up, and most of his senses focused on the man. Shockingly he realized Darien was right, his wife and son were still present. Angrily Connor focused on Darien, using the powers he had gained on him. The first was a simple suggestion that the sword was getting too heavy to wield, but the sword attacks following it were blocked just as easily as before. Then came illusions; of freezing cold, of burning heat, of falling to his death, of a hundred Connor MacLeods. Darien blocked the real MacLeod’s sword. “Please, MacLeod, you didn’t really think I didn’t came prepared for that did you? Those mental parlor tricks of yours won’t work on me.”

Connor attacked again, and Darien countered every attack, goading Connor on with a grin, making everything he did seem to come naturally as he relaxedly explained, pushing Connor bit by bit further back toward the cliff as they circled each other. “Come on, Highlander. I know you can put two and two together. I know every move you make, I know what you’re going to do before you do it. I know how you think, I know how you move. I know you better than you know yourself. Hell, I know you better than Duncan knows you, I know things about you not even Heather knew about you, and I’m not talking about after her death.” Connor kept attacking, but he made no leeway, he was yet to score a hit, while he got cut left and right, and Darien kept throwing mental needle after mental needle at him that was biting away at his concentration. “Hell,” Darien said, suddenly talking with Scottish accent, mixed in with many different accents, a perfect copy of the way he spoke. “I know you so well, Connor. If I had your face, your cousin wouldn’t be able to tell us apart.” Darien added Connor’s classic chuckle, and the Highlander looked with horror. As the two swords clashed together, it was as if he was looking at himself for a moment. It angered him and the next attack was a powerful, vicious cut to Darien’s neck. With a grin, Darien parried and then locked the swords behind his neck. “I even know your almost unstoppable move,” Darien told him grinning. Connor looked at him with dread, he had to think fast.

Darien executed the move perfectly. The moment the swords disconnected, spinning MacLeod away, the Highlander pushed backward, jumping away and let himself drop to the floor on his back. The sword swipe to his neck missed, barely. “Well, done, Connor. But then, I didn’t expect the Highlander not to know a way out of his own trap,” Darien said, as he attacked the downed MacLeod. “But now you have given me the height advantage.” Connor rolled half way to the left, blocking Darien’s blow and countered with a leg sweep. Darien jumped over it easily, giving Connor the opportunity to roll backward and place himself back on his feet.

“The watchers,” Connor said, a mixture of fear and anger showing.

“Applause, MacLeod,” Darien answered with a grin, giving the Highlander a breather for a moment. “I knew you could figure it out, but then you did mutually contact each other, didn’t you? That would make it easier to understand. They saw how down you were, and you seemed to be looking for them, for some way out. The Sanctuary is a fun place to stay. Was that before or after you killed the Kurgan? Were you planning to go in there the moment Rachel died? That was before Brenda revived your interest for life, wasn’t it? Or should I say: revived your pecker . . .” Connor’s eyes widened with surprise, and then narrowed in anger and frustration. “You’ve got to hand it to the guy. Kane does use interesting terms, doesn’t he?”

Connor lost it, he swiped his Katana from left to right. Darien ducked, and cut MacLeod’s left leg. “Connor, I may not be as old as you . . .” Connor grabbed the Katana with both hands and threw the sword downward. “. . . as fast as you . . .” Darien jumped back, making Connor miss and sliced deep into Connor’s right arm, making it useless for a while. “. . . strong as you . . .” He parried the next blow. “. . . as skilled as you . . .” He turned the swords over, locking them together. MacLeod was with his back to him. “. . . have as much heart as you . . .” MacLeod brought up his sword to guard his neck, turning backward, and Darien sliced across his torso, “. . . and my steel is definitely inferior to yours . . .” Connor again turned around, his sword flying at neck level. Darien turned to face it, and blocked it. “. . . taken as many heads as you . . .” Darien kicked MacLeod and the older immortal staggered back. MacLeod attacked with a difficult double handed downward swipe, courtesy of an only partly healed arm. “. . . but all that won’t do you any good . . .” Darien avoided it, partially side-stepping, partially ducking. “. . . if I know what you’re going to do . . .” MacLeod followed up with sideways swing, that Darien blocked. “. . . before you do it.”

Darien rapidly scored three hits, one to MacLeod’s left leg, one adding another cut to the torso and one that reopened MacLeod’s left arm. MacLeod was forced to lock swords with the man, to give his damaged body time to heal. Apparently Darien didn’t mind that he did. “You see, MacLeod, I was a watcher before my first death. Imagine my and the Watchers’ surprise when after my death a hundred and fifty years ago, I came back to life, becoming one of those I had been assigned to study. I decided if there would be only one, it might as well been me. Oh, the watchers have tried to keep my out, but I just know them to well, I still can get access to the files I need. I study my victims perfectly, know exactly how they move, how they think, and then I can’t be beaten. A nice year of watching you train, perfect all you attacks and parries, and . . . you can’t beat me either. Now you lose your head, Highlander.”

Darien laughed and at that moment, lightning flashed down from the sky, striking into the locked swords. Both the Immortal’s eyes flew wide as the energy lanced down through them, and a connection was made. Electricity and plasma crackled between the two, flowing through the swords was fine haze. Blasts lanced around them, as more and lightning used them as a conduit to the ground. The Immortals shuddered under the onslaught, electricity coming from them struck in various places on the ground, almost like a Quickening. Even when the lightning from the sky ended, the electrical bolts kept dancing between and around them. Then it stopped and the suddenly staggered backward, shaking their heads, trying to clear them.

Connor stopped his backward motion, knowing the cliff was behind him, hoping Darien wouldn’t make use of his inability to find balance while moving backward. He opened his eyes and looked. Shock ran through as he looked at himself, continuing to stagger back, only a step away from the cliff and the clashing water below. He looked down at himself and suddenly realized he was now in Darien’s body. Realizing that if Darien went over the cliff they probably would never be able to switch back he suddenly called out, “No! Don’t!”

Darien, in MacLeod’s body, looked up, the same shock registering on his face. He turned around to look where he was, but was too late. The foot, that was supposed to step onto solid ground, found only air. Unfamiliar with the new body he lost balance and went over the edge. “No!” Connor roared and ran toward the edge. By the time he got there, he only got to see a glimpse of the man before he disappeared into the water with a splash.

~~O~~

Connor finally stopped pacing, having finished relaying the horrible event. “I went back to the house, but Alex didn’t believe me when I said it was me. She told me in no uncertain terms she would fire that shotgun just like I told her to. I could see in her eyes she wasn’t bluffing, so I turned around and left. The first six months after that were wasted in getting to Darien’s finances, so I could at least travel around. Since then I spent my time trying to track them and Darien in my body down. I haven’t found them, she’s taken her hiding very seriously, and I only recently found Darien in my grave.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, I find that rather far fetched,” Dana commented, still quite a bit angry about the testosterone display. “Trust me, coming from me, that says a lot.”

“You don’t think I know that,” Connor spat at her. “For the first few days I didn’t believe it. I convinced myself that by the time I would wake up, I’d either be in Brenda’s or Alex’s arms, and all of it would just be a nightmare. Of course, it never happened. That was the time when I finally accepted - Kronos’, did you say his name was? - words that there really was no Gathering. If there really was a Gathering, this just couldn’t be happening.”

“That was around the time that I started doubting the Gathering, and wondering whether it was just a matter of the speed of present day traveling methods,” Duncan contemplated out loud.

“Wait a minute, if what your saying is right, you can create illusions and make suggestions, right?” Dana said, still not believing.

Connor smiled, and suddenly the heat was gone. It was nice and cool. Outside, Barcelona was covered in snow, more of it came falling from the sky. A Christmas tree with gifts underneath it suddenly stood in the corner. Duncan and Dana looked around astonished for a few seconds, and then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

Connor focused on Dana with a grin and thought at her, *Take off your clothes.* Dana started unbuttoning her blouse, just as her cleavage came into view, Connor said, “You can stop now.” Startled Dana looked at what she was doing and as she cursed the short black-haired man with every profanity she had heard the sailors use at the naval bases her father had been stationed at, she started buttoning the blouse back up. Connor laughed amused at the trash coming out of the redhead’s mouth.

“Duncan,” Connor spoke up, at the shocked man. Duncan jerked up and looked over to him. “I guess you never delved into ‘my’ memories, or you would have known it wasn’t me.”

Duncan shook his head, “Too painful.”

“Do it now,” Connor suggested, but with enough of a command in his voice, that it left no opening. “And you’ll know for sure I am telling the truth.”

Duncan closed his eyes, and immediately watched himself fall of the cliff, with wild thoughts flowing through his mind. *How can this be? I’m him and he is me!? This can’t be possible.*

Duncan opened his eyes and looked at his older cousin. “It’s true.” Dana blinked in surprise at her mentor, and completely locked her attention on him.

“Relay his last years, MacLeod. I’d like to know what the bastard has been up to in my body,” Connor asked with a grim face.

Duncan nodded. “He decided was better than he could have hoped for. He got a stronger, taller body for free, and I would be his next victim. I wouldn’t see it coming until it was far too late. In order to do that he decided to go to New York and completely entrench himself into your life, to such an extent, I would never see, even from afar, somebody else was inhabiting your body. Since he also knew, you would prepare yourself - next time the two of you would fight, you would have changed your entire way of fighting - he also would mess with your life enough to imbalance you during the next fight. Things didn’t exactly went according to plan . . .”

~~O~~

Chapter 3: Lessons In Love

New York

February, 1993

Darien, in Connor’s body, walked into the dancing club. He grinned, looking around the place. Ten years earlier it was a bar, and the then young waitress was now the owner. Lights flashed, and music burned through the atmosphere.

“Russell!” There she was now. Darien turned innocently toward the woman in her late twenties, who was waving at him from behind the bar. Her long blonde hair sharply contrasted with her black outfit. The woman glared at a dissatisfied customer who wanted her to fill his glass, then she jumped on the bar and off the other side, forcing her customers back so she could pass. She reached Darien moments later, “Russell, it’s been a long time, almost a decade. And you bastard, you haven’t aged a day.”

“Heh, heh, you’re giving me to much credit, Jenny. You on the other hand . . .” Darien said, grinning, looking over the sexy body, in the short dress, showing off her naked legs.

“Oh, ptooey,” Jenny told him, making a throw away gesture. “I’ve gotten old, I’m twenty-eight for god’s sake.”

Darien smiled at her, saying, “I think you’ve gotten younger. You look hot.” Innocently he let his gaze wonder down to her cleavage. “That definitely hasn’t changed, unlike this place, what happened?”

Jenny shook her chest playfully just a bit as Darien glanced down, and answered him, “I happened. I bought the place and turned it into a club. As you can see, I’m doing great.” She gestured to the packed dance floor with a grin. “Let’s dance,” she said, grabbing Darien by his arm and started pulling him onto the crowded dance floor.

“Hey, I don’t dance,” Darien in Connor’s body protested.

“You do now,” Jenny called out over the music.

*****

The two kissed passionately, naked sweaty body against naked sweaty body. Her chest heaved, pressing her breast up against him. Darien moved in a powerful rhythm, thrusting inside her vagina with satisfaction. The bed was of enough quality it barely protested, almost as if it had been bought for it. He considered Connor a doofus for never taking the woman up on her offerings. She was fantastic, her inner muscles clenched and unclenched with a passionate enthusiasm, her legs were clung tight to his thighs urging him onward. Their rhythm increased as they got closer to the peak.

“Oh, god, Russell, aah, harder,” Jenny moaned out loud. He obliged and thrust into her harder. Then he unloaded his seed into her orgasming body, and they collapsed together.

*****

Darien woke up under protest as the radio alarm clock blared out its wake up call. Next to him - comfortably clinging to him - the female presence groaned awake. Every bit of his body protested as she turned away from him to turn off the alarm clock. He looked over, seven o’clock.

“Seven? It’s still dark out,” he asked in irritation, and his face turned to horror as he saw Jenny crawl out of bed. Apparently she had a lot more discipline after a night like that.

“Yes,” Jenny answered, got up and turned on the lights. Her naked body was bathed in the lovely light, showing him her curvaceous buttocks and the outline of her left breast. Despite the early hour he appreciated the view. Jenny threw her hair back and explained, “Got to get up. A new load of beverages will be delivered in an hour. I’ve got to come up with new flyers, and people to order to spread around the old ones still, etc, etc.” She reached the other side of the bed, Darien followed her with a grin. She turned partially around the regard him, showing off most of the front of her body. “The dance club business isn’t so easy as opening the shop and waiting till the customers come dropping in, and if you sell something once a week you make more than enough money like the antique business. I actually have to work hard for my money. But you can stay in bed if you want to.” She started doing some stretching exercises, naked right in front of his nose, and looking a little too innocent doing it. “Are you still in the antique business? I thought the place was now called ‘MacLeod and Ellenstein Antiques’.”

Darien grinned, keeping his eyes glued on the naked stretching body in front of him, and explained, “I am MacLeod. I changed my name. The mysterious Scotsman in New York, Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, brings in a lot more high profile business then some guy named Russell Nash.”

Jenny stopped her stretching, just as she was bent over with her legs spread, her torso was stretched along her left leg and she looked back at him. Darien grinned at the view. “And you had me call you Russell all night!? Did you enjoy the joke, Mr. Oh, everybody knows me as Connor for years already, but keep calling me Russell, it’s fun!?” Darien shrugged lightly. She got out from her pose grabbed a pillow from a chair and threw at him. He caught it

 “Of course, the place blew up a few months ago. A gas explosion. My partner died in that explosion,” Darien remarked, pushing the pillow aside, and being careful to add just the right amount of sorrow in his voice.

“It did? I’m sorry, I reminded you of it. I’m so stupid some times, of course it blew up, it was all over the news. Sometimes I need an anti-stupidity pill,” she said. She chewed her lower lip for a moment, which, with her being naked, made her look quite sexy.

“So what do you do these days?” Jenny asked interested.

“Oh, this and that, I keep busy,” Darien answered, giving her one of Connor’s chuckles.

Jenny realized the best way to handle the goof up, was to use some humor, so she her hands in her sides twisted her body lightly to accentuate her curves and said, “I can see that. Well, at least you have some idea of what I go through. The club has to evolve constantly, and revolutionize on occasion to keep it from blowing up.” She smiled, and turned around and walked toward the bathroom.

Darien laughed a bit. “Does all the hassle pay off?” he asked interested.

Jenny turned around and kept going toward the bathroom backwards. “Oh, yeah,” she said, smiling and spreading out her arms. Then she turned back again and disappeared into the bathroom.

Darien looked around, and really looked at the place for the first time. From the glimpses of the living room he got from the behind the half-open bedroom door he could see the apartment was not small. From the bathroom came the sound of a shower running. The lovely bed, chairs, curtains, the gleaming white tiles of the bathroom, and the tv directly opposite the foot end of the bed, and considering the prizes for real estate in New York made it obvious, she did very well for herself. Darien got out of bed and followed Jenny into the bathroom and then joined her in the shower. He wrapped his arms around her waist, kissed her hotly in the nape of her neck and said, “Let me wash your back.”

Jenny gave him the sponge and he gently started to wash and massage her back, kissing her neck up to her ear and nibbling her ear lobe. Jenny moaned, battling with herself, thinking of her time constraints. When she felt his penis growing erect, the decision was made easily, if she hurried she should be able to be on time. She grabbed back, and as she guided him into her she said with a lazy moan, “I think there is something else you’d like to wash.”

*****

A few weeks later

Darien and Jenny walked through the park, both smiling at nothing in particular. They were holding hands and strolled along, enjoying the day. It wasn’t quite spring, and it wasn’t quite winter anymore either.

“So who is doing all the ‘keep the club from exploding’ activities anyway?” Darien asked smiling, turning the holding hands into a happy embrace and kissing her on her cheek.

“My second in command,” she said, giving him a kiss on the check.

Darien grinned, and told her, “Ah, the hot brunette chick. Oof.” The playful elbow got him right in the ribs.

“Your own fault,” Jenny smiled. “Don’t worry, when we get back, I’ll kiss the pain away.”

“You better, because you got me good,” he told her with a grin. *Be careful, you’re falling in love with her!* a voice yelled at him from his own mind. *I’m not!* he bit back, *I’m just using her, that’s all!*

“Come on,” Jenny said suddenly, and started running, pulling him along. A short while later they were swinging back and forth, each on their own swing seat. The looked at each other with love in their eyes, laughing. Suddenly he got a flash of another girl swinging on a swing, a young, twelve-year-old girl, the buzzing sensation of a nearby Immortal in his mind; the girl’s adopted mother, his chosen victim, and he stabbed the young girl through the heart with his sword, while her mother screamed her protests.

Jenny laughed, swinging back and forth looking forward, and for a moment she and the girl he killed blended together. He shook his head, and smiled as Jenny turned her head back toward him.

*****

He looked with incredulously at her beauty as he massaged her breasts. She rode him hard, as he lay below her. Her body heaved up and down, leaning back on her arms. Suddenly she came forward, looking directly in the face, than leaned forward and kissed him deeply.

She snapped backward again, moaning, “Oh, god.” She sped up suddenly, faster and faster, and as she shuddered above him with the peak of her pleasure, he pored his load deep inside her. She snapped forward, lying on top of him kissing passionately, than raining kisses across his face and chest, expressing her appreciation and love, before saying, “I love you.”

Without thinking he answered back, “I love you too.” Jenny smiled as only he heard the loud scream banging through his mind, *I TOLD YOU SO!!!* It followed with hardy laughter that chilled him through the bone.

*****

Jenny rose from her bed, and he watched her get up. She opened the curtains and the sun streamed on her body, every curve of her body seemed like it was bathing in the light of him . . . no, it seemed as if the light got swallowed whole and shone back out of her, more beautiful and radiating than it could ever have without her.

“Wow,” he said with awe. She turned to regard him, and gave him a smirk. “You are so incredibly beautiful you know that.”

“If you say so,” she said with a flattered and amused smile.

“I love you, I love you so damn much, it’s insane,” he whispered at her. *Didn’t I tell you!* A cacophony of voices screamed at him from his mind, all mocking him, yelling at him he had lost it, that he was a wuss. It took all his self control not to react, to just lie there and enjoy her in all her naked glory. For a moment he saw something flicker in her eyes: concern. But then she apparently dismissed it and turned around toward the bathroom.

The voices become worse, and he screamed back at them, *Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!!* Flashes of his victims, their deaths, loved ones of Immortals, the Immortals themselves screamed through his mind, and all of them morphed into Jenny lying there in pools of blood, eventually he saw himself kill her in his victims poses over and over. *Go away!*

*****

He entered the remains of Connor’s antique store for the first time, and he looked around the desolation. His time here in New York, he spent in the first week in a hotel, and then he got himself a Spartan apartment. All the time he went through the motions of getting permits and procuring the proper funding to rebuild the place; all to get to Duncan MacLeod. But lately he lost interest in MacLeod. He was interested only in a certain blonde female. He could already see himself giving her expensive antiques as gifts.

“Damn it!” he raged and crashed his foot onto a piece of heavily damaged concrete. It cracked under the impact. “THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN!”

*Too bad!* the voice yelled back at him in his mind. This just couldn’t be happening. Darien started smashing whatever he could get his hands on, until several minutes later he finally stopped and dropped to his knees, his bloodied hands rapidly healing up.

*Guess who! HERE’S JOHNNY!* the voice roared. Darien looked incredulously as a form coalesced in front of him: Connor MacLeod. He shook his head, but despite the fact that he knew the form couldn’t be real it wouldn’t disappear.

“You are not him! He’s not even dead, and he’s not coming back in here until we get hit by lightning again!!” Darien roared at the apparition.

*No,* the voice told him, as he started walking around him predatory. *I’m not Connor MacLeod, but you practically are, I thought it appropriate. We weren’t always like this you know, our parents raised us well, but when you turned immortal you thought in your arrogance you could just turn me off, and never see me again. You were wrong about that one, were you!?*

“What the fuck are you talking about!? Who the hell are you!?!?” Darien screamed, several passers by outside, took a glimpse through the cracks and then quickly walked on.

*Dar, I’m your conscience, I’m back, and I’m here to stay,* the Connor apparition told him with a wide grin, and grabbed his face on both sides. *You know love now, baby, that means you’re mine!* Then with a laugh the apparition blasted through his eyes into Darien’s brain. *You know what we have to do! You have been contemplating it for some time now!*

*****

The knife cut a line in his hand palm and blood rushed out. “Oh, my god!” Jenny exclaimed, getting off the bed. Darien stopped her with his good hand and gently pushed her back, himself kneeling down in front of her, holding up his hand.

“Watch.”

Jenny looked with fascination as the wound closed in front of her eyes. Darien grabbed the towel he had taken with him and wiped the blood away. Jenny grabbed his hand and started feeling over it, looking at it closely, then looked him in his eyes.

“My name is Darien Faulconer, and I was born a hundred and seventy years ago. I cannot die unless I loose my head,” he told her softly.

Jenny blinked several times, trying to digest the information, then smiled at him. “Thank you for trusting me with this . . . what would you like me to call you?”

Darien shook his head and said, “There’s far more, I am not Connor MacLeod, not the man you met ten years ago, I’m not this body. I’m really a short guy with black hair. There are others like me, we duel to the death, whoever takes the other’s head, gets the other’s power and knowledge, in a rather violent electro-magnetic energy transference. Connor and I were in a battle, and while our swords were locked together they got hit by a lightning blast . . .” Jenny tried to say something, but Darien held up his hand for her to let him finish. “Somehow it must have resonated with our Quickening, the power that makes us immortal and that we battle each other for, and we got switched. Connor MacLeod was born in 1518 in Glenfinnan on the shores of Loch Shiel in Scotland, and he’s out there somewhere in my body.”

Jenny blinked several times, digestion the new information, completely unable to figure out what to do with it. “I’m not a nice guy, Jenny. I’m bad, I’m evil, I only came here, started something with you so I could mess with Connor’s life, and so I could get to his cousin, another Immortal by the name of Duncan MacLeod, eighty years his junior . . .” And looking up into his love’s eyes he spilled his entire life’s story from the moment of his rebirth: the torturing and the killing and his cold bloodedness. Tears flowed from his eyes, as he watched Jenny cry as well, watched her get angry, see the betrayal in her eyes, look away in disgust and more, but not once did he give her the opportunity to interfere until he was done with his confession. Having seen the emotion in her eyes, he said, “I’ll be leaving now.” And started to get up, needed all of his self control to keep from crying out.

Startled he felt her grab him by his collar and looking him in his eyes with a hard edge. “Would you do those things again?”

“No,” Darien answered confused. “If one of them comes for my head, I’ll defend myself, but I’ll never kill again if I don’t have to, and definitely no mortals. I’m done with that . . . forever.”

Jenny nodded, and to his greatest surprise and joy, she suddenly lurched forward and kissed him with every ounce of passion she had, and he could no longer keep the tears back. After she finally broke the kiss, he whispered, still silently crying, “But, why?”

“Conn- Darien,” Jenny told him softly, filled with emotion. “While you were still with the watchers, you’ve undoubtedly seen young Immortals get cut down easily in this sick game, right?” Darien nodded. “So you did what you thought was the only way to survive, and you went completely overboard. I can understand why you went that way, how all the death could have overwhelmed you. I don’t care that much about the past. God knows, I have made a few decisions that I’m not particular proud of, and that I not have the guts to spill. The future only counts in my opinion, and if you are no longer an evil bastard, and you love me and I love you, then that’s all I need to know. If MacLeod comes to find you, I’d like to see what your real body looks like, perhaps I like it even better as the one you’re wearing now, and then we’ll try to recreate what got you two switched in the first place. I’m sure I can convince an old friend not to cut off your head.”

*****

A week later Darien gave Jenny a kiss. With a playful pat on her ass he sent her toward her club, as he turned the other way. Another month, and if all went well, they would start on reconstructing MacLeod’s antique store. That way, if the guy ever showed up, he had a make-up present ready. He smiled, he had never felt so good in his life. His conscience had stopped trying to make him go crazy, although he still felt guilty, and he had a beautiful brand spanking new fiance that he loved to death. He walked onward with a new power and enjoyment of life. He whistled as he watched a car drive by, and someone lean out of the window, holding an uzi.

Darien’s eyes went wide as everything went into slow motion. He turned around and as he ran screaming Jenny’s name, he watched her and a few other people get mowed down by the uzi wielding gunman. “NO!” he screamed, but was just in time to hold the dead body of his fiance in his arms. To no one in particular he whispered, filled with pure rage, “Whoever is responsible, I will hunt them down to the ends of the Earth, and even if it’s the last thing I do, I will make them pay!”

*****

A few days later

The gang sat in their house, grinning, and laughing, smoking pot. Chatting over this and that, as nearby on the floor lay a few whores who were high on heroin. With a sudden slam the door smashed open inward, even though the door opened outward, revealing a silhouette,

“Have you got a warrant?” one of them said, probably the leader. The rest of the gang laughed at that. The silhouette stepped inside silently. The leader got angry and stood up. “Hey, copper, you can’t come in here without a warrant?”

A gleaming lightly curved blade appeared in one of the silhouette’s hands and the eyes of the gang members widened. “I don’t need a warrant,” a deathly cold voice told them, sending chills down their spines. “I’m not a cop, you killed my fiance.”

As fast as they could the gang members pulled out their guns and each fired several rounds into the silhouette, who promptly fell to the floor. They got up and looked at the dead body. “Fuck me,” one of them commented. “Who the hell were we sent after?”

Another one shrugged uninterested and asked, “More importantly, what do we do with the body?”

“Yeah,” one of the whores commented with a giggle. “What do we do with the body?” The other whores giggled as well.

“Shut up,” the leader ordered them, and looked down at the body. Terror nailed all of the gang members to the floor as the man’s eyes snapped open suddenly, and with a fluent movement sliced off a lower leg of one of them, who screamed and fell over. One of them on the other side got stabbed through the heart as the man was already half up. The man opened his eyes in shock and fell back as the sword was pulled free. With a grim smile the silhouette sliced off an arm.

“My arm!” the man screamed in raw fear, the remaining members trying to get their guns to bear, and the whores screeching out their terror. The sword flashed around and moments later all but the one who had his leg cut of were dead.

“Listen,” he groaned, trying to get away from the silhouette with the demon eyes. “Don’t kill me, man. I know stuff. We were just hi-. . .” At that moment the sword sliced his head in half, his brains spilling out and he died instantly.

~~O~~

“He disappeared into the Sanctuary not long after,” Duncan concluded with a grim smile.

“I can’t believe it,” Connor said with a grim look on his face. “That bastard actually went good at the end.”

“He did,” Duncan confirmed gravely, he was actually deeply moved by the memories and his narrative, since he himself could actually feel what Darien had felt. They stayed silent.

“Well,” Dana prompted impatiently.

“Well, what?” Duncan and Connor asked simultaneously.

“Well, why did he make you cut his head off!?” Dana asked him again, getting more impatient.

“Oh . . .”

~~O~~

Late November 2002

The sword swung and the general’s head came off. Moments later Connor MacLeod was enveloped in the Quickening. Once it was over, he looked outside, seeing the red discolored sky, then to the column of energy that was powering the machine that created the shield that caused the discoloring. He walked into the column of pure energy and as he started absorbing some of the energy the entire machine came crumbling down, then the discoloring of the sky disappeared and was blue once more.

*****

“NOOooo!!” Darien screamed waking up from the nightmare. He had been having it and others ever since they pumped him full of drugs and placed him in the sanctuary. With his own spirit subdued, not having the will to live, it was as if the chemical bonds of his body in which his spirit had been placed had been being remoulded, forced to conform to a more native pattern, as if his thought patterns were being rewritten to fit the RNA, DNA and cells that made up his new brain, instead of the other way around. “I am not Connor MacLeod, I’m not a Highlander, I’m Darien Faulconer, not MacLeod, not MacLeod!!” he screamed, thrashing about the park in which he had chosen to sleep. The bench on which he had been lying he kicked over and he sank to his knees, and he looked up at the tree the bench had been under.

Darien, had just gotten his ass kicked by Jacob Kell, another Immortal from Glenfinnan, who had taunted him to no end. The bastard who had decided Connor had to pay eternally for putting a sword through the priest who had adopted Jacob. Now he was sitting on his knees, and he fumbled from in his pockets, revealing a piece of paper on which a Watcher’s symbol was printed and lots of text. ‘Never again,’ he read once more. The words Duncan MacLeod had uttered four years earlier, and since then the Highlander had hardly fought at all, and when he did, he just incapacitated his opponents and let them live. He got up and started pacing around, thinking heavily, he sat down again, got up to walk around again, and knelt back down again over and over. The occasional people who saw him, including one gang who had considered robbing him, turned away from him, giving him a wide birth.

The criminal’s last words. ‘We were just hi- . . .’ Just hired. Jacob Kell, it had been Jacob Kell all along. The bastard didn’t know he wasn’t Connor MacLeod, the bastard had ordered Jenny killed. ‘Even if it’s the last thing I do, I will make them pay!’ Jacob Kell had to die, it was clear as crystal. But it was also clear he couldn’t beat him. His body had been atrophying for ten years, and even if it hadn’t, he didn’t have the power or skill to beat Kell, not without years and years of preparation, and that was unacceptable. Jacob Kell had to die now. Duncan MacLeod though, did have the power and the skill to beat Kell, but he lacked the heart, the fire to do it. There was only one option, Duncan MacLeod had to be given the fire to kill Kell, and that was what he set out to do.

~~O~~

“Now that’s something,” Dana commented.

“I’m glad you’re back, Connor,” Duncan told his old teacher, his friend, his brother with great affection.

Connor smiled at him and said, “I’m not back yet.”

“Huh?”

“Duncan, I feel it to. My Quickening is conforming to the chemical structures that are sustaining it. I won’t go evil, but repeatedly I feel like I’m not me, /or/ him. I can’t live like this, I want my body back. I already dug it up and placed it in cryogenic storage,” Connor explained with a determined look, not letting the others cut in, but their faces said enough. “I figure, if we sew the head back on, and if we hook it up to artificial life sustaining machines, that get the heart beating - I’ve already bought all that’s needed - send currents flowing through the body, get it as close to alive as we possibly can, than it just might trigger a Quickening.”

“You want to cut off your head, in the obscure hope your Quickening flows back into your already dead body!?” Duncan called out in disbelief, and exasperation.

“Exactly. Duncan!” Connor called back, he was desperate. “I need my body back, I can’t live like this, Duncan. I need myself back.” The two started a staring contest, neither four-hundred-year-plus wills giving in easily. Dana looked at them with exasperation and fascination.

Finally, Duncan gave in. “All right, we’re going to need a doctor, a surgeon, someone who already knows about us,” Duncan said, thinking it over slowly, and coming up with only one answer.

“Hey, hello,” Dana called angrily. “What are you thinking about? I’m right here, medical school, forensic pathologist with the FBI for the past decade!?”

“No offence,” Connor said dryly. “But I want my body put together, not cut up further.” Dana actually growled in anger as she crossed her arms in disgust. “And preferably with enough cosmetic surgical perfection that my neck isn’t one giant scar.”

“Can you move your body easily?” Duncan asked, mulling things over.

“Sure,” Connor answered.

“Let’s go then.”

*****

The bell rung, and a short time later the door to the large urban house opened. An eight-year-old girl was revealed.

“Hello, Mary,” Duncan said, smiling. “Is your mother home?”

The girl blinked, the man knew her name, but she didn’t who he was. “Momma! There are two men and a woman here!” the girl called out. Another short time later, a brunette arrived at the door.

“Duncan!” she exclaimed.

“Hi, Anne, could we talk to you?” Duncan asked smiling.

“Sure, come on in,” she answered and the group of people entered the house.

Several minutes later: “YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT!?!?!!?!?”

*****

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Anne said, all dressed up in sterile clothes, a mouth covering tied around her head. The warehouse Connor had bought several years earlier. The room they were in now was outfitted for this singular task in the past several days. Dana was on the other side of the bed, dressed similarly, in between them lay the dead body of Connor as they were sowing grafts of skin taken from the body’s legs around the neck, so that it wasn’t one giant raw wound. Most of the interior of the neck, as far as they were able had been reattached to the other side of its interior.

“What do you think I’m believing right now?” Dana asked her in disbelief. She was as taken aback as she was, and actually saw the merit for contacting this woman. The trauma doctor must have had enough experience in patching up more visible wounds using skin from less visible places. Dana definitely wasn’t able to perform it with such craftsmanship.

“You are one of them, aren’t you?” Ann asked a little perturbed.

“For about one and a half years in total, before that I was as mortal as you, or so I thought,” Dana answered, looking at Anne’s hands doing the work, staying ready to assist whenever necessary. “And even if I was older, do you think I sow heads on for a living or something? From what I’ve seen and heard, we’re more busy with the opposite.”

“Sorry,” Anne apologized, and worked further. Some time later she said, “Done.”

Duncan and Connor who had been sitting on a bench well enough away from the two doctors got up immediately. “Good,” Connor said as he watched the two doctors step aside. He looked at the life-sustaining equipment, and the four of them started hooking them up. Some time later a heart rate, artificially stimulated was visible on a monitor. Several electrodes were attached to the body, sending a continuous current through it. An EEG monitor showed activity; a totally irregular non-living activity. Another few electrodes attached to the skull were sending enough current into the cells for the EEG to register something.

Anne grimaced when she looked at the dead flesh at places on the body’s legs. “I’m still not happy with leaving that open.”

Connor answered her with a wry smile, “If it works, it’ll heal, if it doesn’t . . . well, then it doesn’t matter either.” Anne nodded, and she and Dana left the room.

“Duncan, if there’s no Quickening after a second or two, you run in, hopefully taking mine right?” Connor asked nervously. Duncan nodded and he went to join the women. Connor laid himself down on the floor, looking fearfully upward to the metal plate, sharpened enough for a decapitation. A wire ran down from it, a release switch on it close to Connor. He grabbed the switch and called out, “Far enough away!?” When Duncan’s affirmation reached him, he looked back up at the plate. “Double or nothing,” he commented and pushed the button. The razor sharp blade came crashing down and severed his head from his body.

Outside the three watched hopefully. At first nothing happened, than the surgery room lit up brightly, moments later electric bolts flashed around the room, glass shattered, the machinery exploded. The three smiled broadly at the magnificent spectacle, Duncan smiled the widest. It went on for almost two minutes and then stopped. The three walked inside the room and looked at the still lifeless body. For several moments the three were gripped with fear, was the body too beyond dead to be revived? Then, bit by bit, the color of the skin changed, and if they looked closely they saw electricity flow through the veins closest to the skin. The solidified blood that they had not been able to replace with blood from blood bags was being liquified, and streamed once more. The skin grafts around the neck, slowly merged with the rest of the neck, and then it was impossible to tell the skin hadn’t been someplace else first. The open wounds on the legs quickly grew new skin, and then, ripping the remaining electrodes and wiring from his body, Connor MacLeod gasped and set bolt upright. His three friends looked at him wide eyed, it was still an incredible sight to behold, even if it was what they had hoped for. Connor looked at himself, then raising his hands in the air triumphantly he screamed, “Yes! It worked!”

*Whoa,* Dana thought, with some interest. *That looks a lot better, and I don’t just mean the outside . . . it’s like he just came home.*

Connor grinned and jumped off the surgical bed, testing out his old body, jumping up and down with glee, then noticed his previously dead body wasn’t exactly ship shape. “Damn, ten years in a drug-induced coma, and almost a year dead hasn’t done this body any good . . . Duncan, what do you say to taking on another trainee? I need to get to back in shape . . .”

“Gladly, I say we go to Paris and start a rigorous schedule,” Duncan answered with a big grin, it was good to see Connor MacLeod the way he was supposed to be looking again.

“Why? What’s in Paris?” Connor asked confused.

“Yeah, what’s in Paris,” the two women cut in simultaneously, and laughing over it.

Duncan looked at Connor, indicating him and told them, “Something that belongs to you.”

~~X~~

Chapter 4: Dana’s Point of View

24^th century

John sat silent, taking all of Duncan’s story in. Then he said, “So that really was my father. I still remember that day, when that guy entered our house and claimed to be him . . . it was the scariest, most sad, most horrible and most defining day in my entire life . . . not even coming back to life for the very first time managed to reach what that day did to me.” He sighed heavily, his thoughts unknown to the others. “So, you have known my father as well?”

“Knowing doesn’t quite cover it,” Dana answered as delicately as she could.

~~X~~

Late November 2002

London

Duncan MacLeod sat meditating on a stone platform with pillars and statues surrounding him and then suddenly shaken from it after several horrible visions. He thought it over then walked inside, changing clothing.

He walked back outside and went around to the patch of lawn to the right. He watched a woman slice her katana through the air. “You still don’t keep you arms high enough, Dana.” Dana looked up at him, nodded and endeavored to do better. “I’ll be out for a short while, I’ll be back soon.”

“Ok.”

*****

“Dana!” MacLeod called as he returned to their residence.

“What!” she called from the gym, dutifully doing her weight training.

“Start packing, we’re going on a trip to America,” Duncan told her hastily. She came out of the gym and saw him hastily walk into his room and started packing.

“Where in America are we going?” she asked curiously.

“/I’m/ going to New York. /You/ are going to Idaho and stay out of my way for the next couple of days. I’ve got a mortal friend there, who doesn’t know about us, he thinks I’m my grandson,” Duncan explained with haste still.

“But . . .” Dana started, only to be interrupted by the Highlander.

“No buts, move! Now!” he called.

Irritated she turned around and went to do his bidding. She hated it, the guy looked ten years her junior; she was almost forty for Christ’s sake, yet he treated her like she was a child. Worse yet, she /felt/ like a child around him.

*****

Idaho

Dana sat in front of the old man’s tv, watching the news. The man had given her leers every day she’d been here. But then the guy probably didn’t have a relatively young beautiful woman close to him in years, and since she had been too busy doing the training the Highlander had forced her to promise to do, and too tired at night because of them, she had chosen to just ignore the man.

Munching on some carrots, she payed closer attention to the news item.

“New York last night has been shocked by a freak lightning storm,” the woman wearing dense clothing to weather the cold. “The storm, predicted by no meteorologist, hit at around ten thirty last night, and took out the power supply for several blocks. Some people have reported seeing a face of lightning in the sky that screamed what sounded like ‘no more’ or ‘never over’. We have an amateur film of it, it is not very clear however people have said it was much more recognizable from a different angle.” The film played, and indeed, if Dana pretended to turn around and look at it from a different angle she could see the resemblance. The picture returned to the reporter and she continued, “More strangely, people have reported that at the same time they could have sworn that the Twin Towers were standing erect as if they had never been brought down in the terrorist attack of just over a year ago. The towers were reported to be ablaze with light or lightning. Experts have said that the unusually powerful phenomena of electric activity that resembled a face somewhat may have caused people to hallucinate, as experiments of recent years have shown electromagnetic fields can influence the brain.”

“Whoa,” Dana whispered in awe, making the connection. “So that’s a Quickening.”

*****

“So where are we going again?” Dana asked, slightly intimidated, from the driver’s seat. The Duncan MacLeod that had come back was in a lot darker mood than the one that went away.

“To Scotland, I told you before,” Duncan answered darkly.

“Ehm, yes, but . . . what are we going to do there?” she asked weakly.

The Scot looked around at her, and said, “We’re going to burry my teacher, or rather, I’m going to burry him, and you will wait in the village for me.”

“Ok,” Dana answered, finally understanding why the man was so brooding all of a sudden. She sat there thinking over the last few moths of her life, when suddenly a horrible screeching banged against her door. Dana jolted toward the side and her eyes went wide when she saw a bat creature crash through the window and grab her. She felt its claws rip into her flesh, and she froze in fear. She got pulled partly through the shattered window, the door flung open at that moment and winced in pain as it came to a sudden stop at the apex of its movement range. The jolt sent the window frame banging into her stomach, hurting even more since the bat hung onto her scratching her back open as best as it could. She fell off the door and to the floor a moment later, smashing her entire body onto the asphalt as she tumbled along. When she stopped, the bat pounced on her and continued trying to kill her.

In the mean time, Duncan pulled the handbreak and flung the car around 180 degrees. He got out of the car drawing his sword and ran at the bat creature molesting his student with a roar of pent up rage and grief. Against Kell he hadn’t been able to afford letting all of it out, the mistakes would have cost him. This thing was another matter, all he saw was red when he rushed at it. The creature, noticing the raging madman come at him with what seemed like razor sharp peace of metal, was momentary struck by fear, so much so that its need for vengeance was overridden and it fled into the woods bordering the road.

Duncan saw Dana lie on the floor, crying slightly in pain and fear and her own pent up emotion of dying and coming back to life burst forth along with it. “Get up,” Duncan commanded her in irritation. Hunting down a monster was exactly the distraction he needed, and it would save lives at the same time. He had calmed down, but was in no mood to babysit the fledgling Immortal. “I said up.” Dana obeyed, and as she struggled to get up, MacLeod asked. “Do you know what that was?”

Dana nodded, “Me and my partner came across it a little over a year ago. It’s the last of its species, an evolved bat, you could say a Neanderthal bat. Its mate was killed by hunters forty years ago, and its been out for revenge ever since. I and my partner shot at it, protecting one of its intended victims, I guess it survived and got mad at me.”

“So it’s a monster. Good, we hunt it down, and kill it, it’ll be a good test of what I taught you this far, among others your hunting abilities,” Duncan told her, angry, but with compassion, he had most of himself back, the outburst alleviated most of his emotions.

“But, that thing nearly killed me, you saw what it did,” Dana answered him, trying to be reasonable but her fear shone through most of her comeback.

“It didn’t do anything to you,” Macleod told her sternly.

“What are you talking about!? I need a hos- . . .” Dana looked down wanting to indicate her torn torso, but only saw a ripped blouse, revealing her half torn bra underneath and blood that indicated she had been hurt before, but otherwise she was fine, no wound at all. They had already healed.

“You cannot be permanently hurt, remember? You cannot die! That means you have the advantage. Get out your sword, I go that way, and you that way,” Duncan reprimanded her, then pointed out the directions.

Dana nodded, still astonished as she pulled out her sword. She had been hurt and even killed by Macleod in their training sessions, but never had he hurt her so bad she had felt like her intestines would come falling out moments later. “Let’s go,” MacLeod said and the two went into the woods pursuing the bat.

Dana ran uncertain through the woods, undoubtedly it would come after her, and despite MacLeod’s assurances she was still scared. Minutes later the screech of the bat creature made her jump and scream in terror as it landed on her. Her sword was thrown away, and it started scratching her again. She thrashed about in fear trying to get it off, but the pain was too much. Finally she got lucky and punched the thing in its face, phasing it for a moment. The sudden freedom from being hurt brought her back to focus, remembering Duncan’s words: ‘There is no pain. You must go through the pain. Pain indicates wounds, and how to avoid harming yourself more. Our wounds heal rapidly, we don’t need to pace ourselves, you must fight with everything you’ve got, disregarding any discomfort, wounds and pain you may feel.’ She started feeling the tingling sensation of healing, and realized this thing couldn’t harm her, and even though it started scratching her again, she knew she could hurt it. She flung her head forward; she caught it on the nose, and it reeled back. She needed all her focus to stay conscious - at the same time she pulled her feet back and kicked out, but she managed. Once the bat had been thrown clear off her, the dizziness rapidly receded and she got up, running over to her sword and picking it up.

She went into a battle stance, sword along her side and looked around, breathing heavily with fear. The thing had scurried up into the trees, but it wouldn’t give up on her so easily. “Come on! I shot you before remember, come and get me!” she screamed out with false bravado, her heart beat in her throat.

The thing came down at her again and she threw herself to the ground rolling aside. With some difficulty she got up out of the motion, and saw the thing fly at her. She kicked out, catching it in its torso and it fell back. She swung her sword at it, but it jumped aside and then at her, scratching her arm. She whirled around, but she was too late again. She swung her left arm out and felt it connect with the bat’s wing, making it lose its balance and crash to the floor. She ran to it and kicked out hitting it hard and throwing it back. It got up and attacked full on. Clumsily Dana side stepped - as close as she could manage to how MacLeod had taught her - and sliced her sword through the creature’s wing. It screamed out in pain and anger, then turned around blinded by its hate and flung itself at the woman. Dana let out a primal scream and ran right at it, stuck her sword forward and skewered the manbat through the chest. Shocked she looked into the hate filled black coals of eyes as the life slipped out of them.

She pulled the sword free and looked at the blood-covered katana. She swallowed hard, and then screamed out in relief, “I got it, MacLeod! I got it!” She pulled out a fine cloth and started to clean the blade as MacLeod at taught her, the blood would make the metal rust if she didn’t take care of it meticulously. She horrified herself as she performed the grisly task.

“Well, done,” MacLeod praised her as she stepped into view from behind a tree. Dana was startled at his early arrival and then realized the Highlander must have heard her first terrified scream and came to find her immediately.

*****

Almost a year later

August, 2003

The barge door opened smoothly and Connor, Duncan and Dana walked inside. Dana walked over to the couch. Connor followed her and stayed behind it, Duncan continued on toward the kitchen area, and further into the bedroom. After opening the vault he had hidden there he came back and threw Connor’s katana through the air. “Catch,” he said.

Connor smoothly grabbed the katana from the air, and made a few automatic practice swipes. “I took the liberty of holding onto it,” Duncan told him with a smile.

“Oh,” Connor commented with a wide grin. “This is much better. Finally.”

*****

Two days later

Dana slammed hard onto the wooden floor. She had missed the leg sweep completely. She looked up at the ceiling of the building Duncan had bought as their personal gym. “Ow,” Dana complained as she looked up and looked at the infuriating smiling face of Connor MacLeod. “God, you’re worse than Mac- . . .” Dana halted her sentence, they were both MacLeod after all. She nodded suddenly realizing the perfect solution. “Than Mac.”

Duncan who sat, watching from the side line smiled. Connor turned to look at him and said, “Are you going easy on her, Duncan?”

As Dana dragged herself upright, MacLeod said, “No, just enough. Your arm is still dipping too much, Connor.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Connor said and turned back to regard Dana in her skintight, training outfit. He raised his eye brows appreciatively, and she narrowed her eyes at him, raising her sword.

“What’s with this anyway? I thought he was supposed to be weakened, ten years atrophying, you said?” Dana complained, feeling herself rapidly healing up, and being glad for it.

Duncan grinned, “Power, strength and speed may help you a long way, but skill, experience, and heart will win you a battle.”

“Great, now he tells me,” Dana commented ruefully, before she and Connor started the potentially deadly dance again.

“I would have come along to that lesson, you just weren’t quite ready yet,” Duncan told him with a grin as the swords of his trainees clashed together.

Connor side stepped a following thrust and tapped Dana on her ass. Her eyes widened in anger as she exclaimed, “Bastard!”

*****

Dana and Connor sat in the barge watching tv. Duncan was off somewhere doing an errand and so they were stuck alone.

Irritated, Dana turned off the tv and commented, “I hate synchronization. How can they ruin perfectly good voices like that!?”

Connor grinned and said, “Mais français est une telle belle langue.”

Dana looked at him for a moment and answered, “I didn’t say anything about the language.”

Connor’s smile deepened and he said, “Tu, cependant, fais français pâle dans de la comparaison.”

Dana looked at him with astonished eyes. She was angry, she was indignant; the few times he showed interest, it was usually pretty crude - although it did sometimes make her laugh - and he and Duncan had been joking at her expense constantly. She wanted to smack him in the face, she wanted to ram some of those teeth out of his mouth. Their lips met in a deep kiss, Connor quickly enveloped her in an embrace, and then their tongues started an electrifying, erotic dance. *Ok!?* Dana asked herself mentally, as she pushed herself up against him, kissing him deeper. *Where the hell does this come from!?*

*****

Duncan MacLeod walked back into his barge later that night. He whistled a slow tune, banged his knee against something that shouldn’t be there, and softly cursed house guests in several languages.

He walked up to the kitchen. He turned on the lights silently. He looked at the couch and the mattress on the floor, but they were empty. He looked around, then went to and opened the bedroom door. He turned on the lights and caught Connor busy trying to scramble out of bed and get dressed, and Dana doing the same on the other side, making her naked form very visible. His eyes widened with surprise. Dana becoming aware he was looking from her to Connor, quickly covered her breasts with her hands and dived back under the blankets.

“Now, again; who has the better women!?” Duncan said just a little irritated. Dana looked at him infuriated.

Connor chuckled and answered, “Touche.”

“Hey!” Dana exclaimed angrily.

Duncan turned around as he said, “I’ll take the mattress, you two can keep the bed for the night.” He turned back for a moment and pointed a warning finger at Connor, “I’ll give you a trashing if you /ever/ complain about who has the better women again, got that?”

Connor nodded with a twinkle in his eyes. “Ok,” he said, as Duncan sighed and shook his head as he walked away.

Connor turned back to the bed and grinned at Dana. “I guess this means we could try for a second- ah!” Dana’s fist hit him right across his chin.

“I am not some object you can discuss as if I’m not here,” she told him resolutely, turned away from him and laid down to try to get some sleep.

“Ah, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean it like that. It’s just something between two very old friends,” Connor apologized.

“Try being gay, perhaps you two will like it,” she bit back.

Connor swallowed in embarrassment and laid down to sleep.

*****

The pleasure blasted through her body as she felt Connor’s seed poor into her. She lowered herself down to his chest and started kissing him on the lips. After several minutes of kissing and fondling, she slipped off him and whispered, “Connor, do you really have to leave?”

Connor nodded with certainty. “I came across a lead, Dana. I told you before, he’s my son; I love him, and I love her. I have to try and find them. I have to.”

Dana nodded gravely and she told him, “I think I’m starting to really fall in love with you, Connor.”

“Aye, lass. And I with you,” Connor told her gravely. “You do understand, don’t you? Duncan is one of the best, if not /the/ best. I’m sure you’ll be around a century from now. But . . .”

“She won’t be,” Dana answered, understanding perfectly. She was having the same thoughts about him, she knew sooner or later she would return to Washington and help out Mulder in the shadows. There had never been a doubt about that in her mind, it had given her something to look forward to, as well as dread. But now that she knew somewhere at the end of the tunnel, this man would most likely be waiting around for her someday, she felt much less fear about the future. Something was bugging her though. “Why do you keep calling me ‘lass’?” Dana asked curiously looking him in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Connor answered thinking it over. “Perhaps you remind me of Scotland, it could be your red hair.” Dana smiled at him, and gave him another kiss.

“If you find her, are you going to tell her about what we shared here?” Dana asked. She didn’t mind one bit that Connor loved someone else. For one thing she didn’t love him, yet, for another she had her own mission still to fulfill.

“I’ve got no idea, if I do, I hope she understands,” Connor answered with a grave voice, filled with quite a bit of guilt.

“Connor,” Dana whispered, his hand snaked softly around his head, lining his cheek and pulled him toward her. “Don’t feel guilty about what we shared. We both needed this to point us back toward life, and not just everlasting strings of death.”

“I know,” he whispered back, gently caressing the arm that held his head. “I know.”

~~X~~

“I loved him, and he me,” Dana explained with a smile remembering good times. “I don’t know if you’ll recognize it, but we were the kind of lovers that couldn’t stay together. We loved each other dearly, but staying together across long periods of time, would sooner or later lead to emotional exhaustion, and we had to break apart. But sooner or later, we would run into each other again.”

“I . . . have somebody like that,” John answered with a wistful smile. “He’s . . . well, he’s ‘him’.”

Dana’s smile grew, and Duncan smiled as well, thinking of a certain female Immortal. “Yeah, that’s how I described Connor as well.”

They stayed silent for several comfortable moments, all of them remembering past happenings. Eventually John broke the silence, “You said Connor died in . . . 2209?” Duncan and Dana nodded solemnly. “How did he die? If you know.”

“He made a stupid mistake, one moment of not having his guard up one hundred percent,” Dana answered with pain in her eyes.

“You two were present?” John asked.

“I was, she wasn’t,” Duncan answered with a painful face.

Dana tapped the side of her forehead. “I took the head of the one who killed him,” she explained.

~~X~~

September 29, 2209

Tellar

The hill side was tranquil, a gentle breeze blew over it. To one side there was a dense forest growth that started on a hill, the other sides were open. A path led away from the valley in the middle, where the only disturbance of the peace was taking place.

“Connor,” Boris called, parrying one of Connor’s thrusts. “We were friends once. Stop this.”

“You forfeited our friendship when you sent her to her death,” Connor sneered, thrusting his sword toward Boris’s stomach, who barely avoided it.

“Damn it, MacLeod! It’s still that!? She was challenged; there was nothing I could do!” Boris called out in desperation, he had no inclination to kill a friend. The two fighters locked swords and closed the gap between the two.

“She was sixteen, and had her first death only a month earlier. You were her teacher, you told her - the girl that trusted you - to go fight a thousand-year-old woman, who was known to be one of the best, and who used all the measures at her disposal including guns,” Connor hissed. The two sword fighters broke up and continued their deadly dance. “I took the bitch’s head after I was forced to watch Lily be cut down like cattle led to the slaughter.”

“She was challenged!” Boris roared as their swords clashed together. He didn’t like losing Lily either, it had cut him to the core of his heart to lose the student so full of laughter and enjoyment of life. “Don’t you know the rules!”

“One on one, no interfering,” Connor told him angrily, the swords clashing rapidly together, as the circled each other. “It says nothing about stepping in for your barely trained students before a fight starts!”

Boris bit his lip, keeping the slightly superior swordsman at bay with everything he had. “That is not the way the rules work, you can’t make them up to fit your needs. She was challenged and that was it.”

Boris made a mistake and looked in horror as his sword and sword hand dropped to the floor. The next moment Connor skewered him with his katana. Boris dropped the floor and as everything slowly went dark, he saw Connor step into view above him, looking coldly down upon him. “Please, Connor,” he managed to croak out. “We . . . were . . .friends.”

“You were challenged and that was it,” Connor told him coldly. Moments later the head of Boris was severed from the rest of his body, and Connor was enveloped in a tense Quickening.

Once the storm of lightning had passed he slowly got up, sword stuck in the ground for support. The buzzing sensation warning him of another Immortal nearby coursed through his head. “Duncan,” he said, smiling.

*****

Duncan MacLeod had come to meet up with his old friend, mentor and brother. Tellar was a nice planet to be, the Tellarites knew how to party for one thing. It had taken him some time to locate Connor, but he had finally tracked him down. He had called him up the day before, and told him he’d be coming. He came up the hill, and looking down in the low valley he watched Connor take a Quickening. Then a figure came running out of the bushes straight at Connor, a sword appeared from beneath his clothes. When his old friend didn’t immediately went into guard, he got concerned. Moments later he screamed, “CONNOR, WATCH OUT!”

*****

Connor looked up at the warning in surprise and saw his friend standing on the hill. He looked back to where the buzz came from, and his eyes widened at the swinging sword.

~~X~~

Duncan explained to John with a sad voice. “I would have checked who it was, no matter how certain I am about the identity. I would have my sword in guard position instantly. It would have allowed me to block that blow, but Connor didn’t. He assumed too easily it was me, and made a stupid fatal mistake.”

The three of them sat silently contemplating recent and not so recent events. Finally Duncan suggested, “I’m here to be married, actually, I would be honored if you decided to attend.”

“Sure, why not,” John answered still deep in thought.

Chapter 5: The Gathering

The heavy doorbell rang. Then it rang again before Dana came into the wide entrance hallway and reached the door. She opened it and looked at the always sexy, well-dressed, and outrageous Immortal thief, Amanda. “Dana!” Amanda exclaimed, hands high in the air with joy. Bags hung from her arms, all filled with wedding presents. “You look fabulous, girl!” Amanda exclaimed, grabbed Dana by her head and gave her three kisses, from cheek to cheek and back again. Her heels clicked on the beautiful tiles that were in the red stone hallway.

“Hi, Amanda,” Dana greeted the outgoing brunette enthusiastically, but not without a small trace of scorn.

Amanda placed her bags somewhere convenient, and proceeded to take off her coat. Then she and Dana walked toward the large living room of the house, adjacent to the hallway. The room had white walls, and dark brown tiles. The room and its furniture were made out of a beautiful scheme of opposite light and dark colors. “Everybody who doesn’t know her yet,” Dana said to the people present. “This is Amanda Derrieux.”

“Hello, pleased to meet you, hello . . .” Amanda said, greeting everybody one by one, when she reached John, and he introduced himself, as ‘John MacLeod’, she commented, “Another one?” Amanda quickly continued. “Oh, you must be the bride,” she said, almost walking into the Vulcan woman. She looked at Duncan’s wife, wearing a tight fitting robe-like dress. She had long black hair - a strange, but becoming mixture of the traditional Vulcan short and practical style, and a more sexually alluring flowing hair style females of many other species usually had - a small glimpse of her pointy ears was visible between her hair. “T’Lerra, if I recall correctly.” One of T’Lerra’s eyebrows shot upward, as she raised her hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting.

“You recall correctly,” T’Lerra answered calmly and made a slight respectful bow. “Live long and prosper.” Amanda took her in a close hug.

Amanda let go and said to T’Lerra’s three Vulcan guests, “You Vulcans should really be thinking about changing your hair to this. It looks much better than that straight cut all the time.”

Duncan walked in from the kitchen and saw Amanda standing there. His jaw dropped as he saw her. “But . . .” he managed to mutter under his breath.

“Ah, there is the big bad boy scout who didn’t invite me to his wedding,” Amanda said wounded.

T’Lerra’s eyebrow shot up and asked, “You didn’t invite her because I might get emotionally upset?”

Duncan nodded slowly: busted. “I was just trying to help.”

“I do not get upset, Duncan. And even if I did, I would get upset at the memories of her we shared during the Pon Farr, not her presence here now,” T’Lerra then calmly walked past Duncan and disappeared into the kitchen. As Duncan followed the woman he loved with his eyes, he was reminded of the day they met.

~~X~~

March 2374

Deep Space 9

In a dark corner of Quark’s bar, Duncan MacLeod and a dark-clothed man sat and talked. A small device lay on the table gently blinking. It kept their conversation away from prying ears, and listening devices. It projected out to the world a simple, meaningless chit chat, so as not to arouse suspicion. At the table itself, the cacophony of the bar was muted, a nice quiet place to talk. The man’s gloved hands gently touched fingers in front of him, his hair slightly unruly, with a slight well-kept feel to it. He looked anything but Starfleet, he seemed more like a freelancer.

The man, sporting a slight smile, made the suggestion, “We overlook a few transgressions here and there now and in the future, if you run critical cargo to and from the front lines. The dominion won’t attack you, being a civilian transport, just in case they figure it out, we’ll upgrade your ship: bio-neural gel packs, shields, weaponry, main computer, warp drive from the Intrepid class - stable cruise velocity warp 9,975 - a cloaking device, and a crash course for you and your crew to be able to operate and maintain it all, and we’ll give you any replacements that might become necessary in the future.”

“A cloaking device?” Duncan asked a little surprised. “I thought the Federation signed a treaty that doesn’t allow it to develop or install any cloaking devices in its starships.”

“Exactly, but you’re a civilian starship, the treaty doesn’t say we’re not allowed to install a cloaking device you have bought somewhere from a civilian cargo hauler,” the Starfleet Intelligence officer answered with a grin.

“And the Romulans are just supplying these to you for this purpose?” Duncan guessed. Being a cargo vessel in contact with others, he too had heard the tales of the Starfleet Warship Defiant cloaking and uncloaking. Rumors abound that the Romulans had actually given the cloaking device to Starfleet for use against the Dominion.

“No, the cloaking device you’ll be given is the kind that allows you to fly through planets, phases you slightly out of existence. About two decades ago, a rogue faction within Starfleet and Starfleet Intelligence developed it,” the man told Duncan calmly. “Suffice it to say, a few years back, the Romulans tried to develop the same kind of cloaking device and failed miserably. When we and the Romulans found out about our successful attempt almost two decades earlier they only demanded, quietly, that we destroy it and the plans. They couldn’t afford the humiliation, that everyone found out the masters of the cloaking device couldn’t do what the Federation did in their first attempt and two decades before they even tried. Of course we complied with their wishes. It’s just that we found out a year ago that there was a little bug in the deletion program, and we accidentally missed a copy or two.”

“Aha,” Duncan answered giving him a grin. That would come seriously come in handy. “And I suppose, there was a bureaucratic error and instead of destroying it, you just miss-placed it.”

The intelligence officer recognized the grin and added, “Sadly, yes. Of course, once the war is over, we will have to take such a volatile, and advanced piece of technology back. The other upgrades you can keep. Do we have a deal?”

Duncan thought it over for a moment, then said, “On one condition, when you take back your cloaking device, I want another in return.”

The man took a deep breath, and blew it out through his nose, thinking. Then suggested, “Although declassified about half a century ago, not many people know we appropriated five Romulan cloaking devices during a twenty-five-year period starting approximately a hundred years ago with some intelligence operations. One or two of them should still be lying around. More advanced sensors will be able to detect you pretty easily, but I doubt you’ll go toe to toe with a Romulan Warbird, Klingon Battlecruiser or a Starfleet Starship after the war that often.”

“Commander Dante, you have yourself a deal,” Duncan said sticking out his hand. The two men shook hands.

Dante stood up and pulled an isolinear chip from his tunic, “Starbase 621 is expecting you in the next two weeks.” He dropped the isolinear chip on the table, “Show the Commodore this, it contains the work order, he’ll be expecting you.”

Duncan picked up the chip and tucked it in his tunic, as Dante turned the device on the table off - the sounds of the bar immediately intruded upon the silence - and put it back inside his tunic. “See you around, MacLeod.” Duncan gave Dante a nod as he walked away.

Duncan got up with a grin, and walked over to the bar, sitting himself on a stool. He looked to his left and saw a stunning Vulcan calmly waiting at the bar. He studied her body, covered by a form-fitting Starfleet uniform. Duncan grinned, he was really glad the new uniforms were tight once more, the ones in between this new one and the type they were before was just way too loose. Her perky, not too large breasts were lying on her chest proudly. Her curves were a testament to her beauty, her face was cool and calm, but carried enough potential. Her lips were not thick, but they were luscious. Too bad he couldn’t see her eyes very well, but undoubtedly they would be pools of intelligence.

“A variety of beverage, two of which Vulcan which contain no alcohol, no taste, no nothing,” Quark said with wide grin and a leer, as he placed the order in front of the Vulcan woman, thinking, *And no chance in hell, they will indulge and drink too much off it.*

“Indeed,” T’Lerra said without a hint of emotion. Quark’s was packed, most people still happy over the recent retaking of Deep Space 9 by combined Romulan, Federation, and Klingon forces.

“Are you certain I can’t interest you in something with a bit more taste, I still have a lovely bottle of twenty third century red French wine in my quarters,” Quark asked playfully.

T’Lerra’s right eyebrow raised gently upward and the answered politely, “No, thank you.” She stepped away from the bar, taking the tray with several different drinks with her and walked over toward a table where several of her ship mates were seated.

Duncan MacLeod followed her with his gaze, right along with Quark, both sporting drunken stairs. The Vulcan woman was sexy as hell, even more so now that she could be seen in motion. Her legs were muscular and well trained. He had been right about her eyes and face, it was that of an angel, intelligent, but beautiful. Her poise was perfect. Her breasts, tightly packed inside the uniform, showed just enough jiggle to draw looks. Her rear end . . . it gently swayed back and forth, suggesting pure femininity. The short flat hair so characteristic of Vulcans - male and female alike - only heightened her allure.

Quark shook his head in appreciation, “I would love to get myself a piece of that.” Duncan nodded his ascent.

“The same as always?” Quark asked, and Duncan nodded absentmindedly. Quark getting him a glass, and pulling out a bottle of Scotch.

“Captain.” Duncan shook himself out of his reverie, and looked at his Tellarite first officer, who had just interrupted his thoughts after coming into the bar.

“Yes, Danierom,” Duncan answered with a smile.

The pig-like alien grinned lavishly and said, “Everything’s ready, sir. We can leave in the morning.”

“Change in plans, comrade. We’ll leave in a few days for Starbase 621,” Duncan said, seeing the protest in Danieron starting to form on his face. “Don’t worry, this is a better deal, and if we’re lucky, we’ll still be able to make our rendez-vous anyway.” Duncan returned his gaze to the alluring Vulcan goddess only a few meters away.

“Sure, you’re the captain, MacLeod . . .”

“Good, then we leave in a few days. Now go have fun, and tell the crew, they have shore leave for the time being,” Duncan told him with a mischievous grin.

“Sure,” Danieron answered and went to order a drink.

Duncan turned around and gulped down his Scotch in once shot. Quark returned with a satisfied grin to fill up the newly empty glass. “You were doing it all wrong, Quark,” Duncan answered with a grin.

“What?”

Duncan’s grin deepened, “Your seduction of the female species.”

Quark’s ears picked up. He was interested in the seduction of the female species, and considering both their track records, there had to be something to the humon’s statement. Perhaps he would also tell what he did wrong. “So what was flawed with it then, oh wise man of the sky?” Quark asked sarcastically, never show others what is important to you, after all they may charge more for it, or charge you now if they weren’t planning on charging you before.

“You must have a basic understanding of the prey before you hunt it, Quark,” Duncan said, smiling conspiratorially at the Ferengi barkeep. “Vulcans are logical beings. They won’t let themselves get caught with an offer of illogical alcohol, and a vague implication of illogical, quick sex. You want to seduce a logical being, you have to argue the point logically.”

“So you are saying you could get her,” Quark said, looking over at the beautiful Vulcan calmly talking with her ship mates. Duncan nodded, in fact he had decided to do that already. “Care to put your latinum where your mouth is?”

“No, Quark, I’ve got bigger profit in mind, than a quick buck,” Duncan told him with a wide grin, turning back to stare at the beautiful woman.

“Quark!” a stern voice called out. Quark looked over and saw the station’s security chief, Odo, stand in the doorway.

“And what of those who understand their prey so well, they let the prey do the hunting?” Quark said quietly to MacLeod.

 Duncan answered, “That is the master’s way.”

“Like a closet case criminal and a security chief,” Quark answered, giving MacLeod a conspiratory grin. He saw Duncan’s confused look, after looking said security chief over. “Not like that, no romance, this is something completely different.”

“I defer to you, oh master.” MacLeod voice was filled with a gentle seriousness, and a little mockery. MacLeod returned his eyes to the beautiful woman.

“Quark!” Odo called out again as he reached the bar. “There are only two reasons why I’m here.” He threw a trinket on the bar that must have had something to do with a crime. “One; if I find out you were behind this, I will lock you up and forget the password.”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Never seen that in my life,” Quark answered innocently. An innocence that only elicited suspicion. “And what was your second reason?”

“That is none of your business,” Odo almost spit out, before turning around and walking out the bar.

Duncan had kept his eyes on T’Lerra, and watched as she got up and walked out the bar. Duncan smacked himself mentally on his forehead. *You fool,* he thought. *You really have it bad. If you don’t go quickly, you’ll miss her completely.*

“Quark?” Duncan said with a mischievous grin. “You do still have the security sensor taps in place, eh?”

“Always,” Quark answered with a wide grin, already knowing what MacLeod meant.

“Then watch and learn,” Duncan said and rushed after T’Lerra.

Quark rubbed his hands together in anticipation as he turned on his monitor. Perhaps he could learn something. Then his eyes widened; just because MacLeod didn’t want to make a bet, didn’t mean he couldn’t. Quark called out into the room, “People, Duncan MacLeod, captain of the Primavera, has told me he was going to seduce a Vulcan female. Odds are 10 to 1 he doesn’t make it. Place your bets now!”

A Klingon charged forward and roared, “Fifty slips says he can’t.”

A Human joined him screaming, “I have faith in the Human reproductive instincts. Fifty says he manages it.” Quickly the area around the screen filled with patrons.

“He’s my captain, I trust him. A hundred slips saying he does it!” another person called.

Quark rapidly gathered in the slips, making calculations in his head, *If he manages it, then . . . if he loses . . . minus of course a modest booking fee.*

“Quark,” Jadzia Dax called out as she and Worf came from the back somewhere. “You’re a pig.”

“A rich pig,” Quark corrected with a grin, holding out and showing the latinum.

Dax shook her head and then said, “Put me down for ten slips saying she’s going to dump him like the drunken horndog he is.”

“Then put me down for twenty that he manages it,” Worf grumbled, looking down at his lover with a wicked grin. “Must keep up the man’s honor.” He got a playful elbow between his ribs.

*****

Duncan quickly caught up with the beautiful Vulcan, whose arms were gently kept behind her back. “Hello,” he said, as he walked beside her. “I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.” Knowing Vulcans didn’t like to be touched, he didn’t stretch out his hand. They turned left, away from the promenade into a smaller corridor.

T’Lerra regarded him for a few moments and then answered, just as formerly, “My name is T’Lerra, daughter of Syrran.”

“Nice name, what does it mean?” Duncan asked with a gentle smile.

“I do not know,” T’Lerra answered him calmly. But Duncan felt she wasn’t as calm inside as she appeared outside. She preferred him gone, which made Duncan grin in anticipation.

“You never bothered to find out?”

“It never seemed logical to do so,” the young woman answered calmly. “I take it you do know what your name means.”

“Dark Chieftain,” Duncan answered, grinning from ear to ear, he had made progress, she had asked him a question. Duncan’s grin turned into a small smile at her answer.

“I must point out that I am not interested in any romantic interlude. If that’s why you have decided to talk to me, you are wasting your time,” T’Lerra explained calmly.

“Oh,” Duncan stated, faking being forlorn. He walked next to her for a few steps before asking, “You are not bonded, are you?”

T’Lerra looked at him, despite all the control she possessed, there was an obvious hint of surprise in her face. “No, I am not,” she answered, raising an eyebrow, not quite sure of her reasons for answering, somehow this man did not strike her as a stalker.

T’Lerra rounded a corner, Duncan followed her, smiling inwardly. Oh, yes! All those mental abilities he and Dana had trained each other in really came in handy, it allowed him to detect the absence of a telepathic connection around the girl. It was nice to know the young woman hadn’t demanded he left yet, and was answering his questions. “Why not, if I may ask?”

T’Lerra regarded him several seconds. Then finally she answered, her reasoning behind answering was that since he already knew she wasn’t bonded, what was the point in not answering. “My bond mate was chosen because of a long standing friendship between mine and his family. When he died, at twelve years of age, as a result of an accident, my father and mother decided that I was able to choose my own life mate.”

“This may sound rude, but how old are you exactly? Around twenty-five I’d say, if I’d make an educated guess,” Duncan asked. He hoped Human women’s hangups about their age did not exist in Vulcan females. If he got through this, he could start the game for real.

“Twenty-four,” T’Lerra answered calmly, with a small hint in her voice, almost imperceptible, that she was getting tired of him.

Duncan grinned, bingo! “Then I find it very curious that you would discard a potential romantic engagement so quickly,” Duncan answered, calmly, and quite logically.

T’Lerra stopped walking automatically. Turned to him and asked, “How so?”

“You are aware of the ruling on the Solok case of 2347?” Duncan asked with a small smile. He found it difficult to keep the smile from growing into a wide grin. It would work wonders on the average woman, but the logical Vulcan could take it he was too emotional to be bothered by him.

“Solok physically and mind raped an Andorian female under the influence of Pon Farr,” T’Lerra answered him with seeming calm. “The judge and jury ruled, that since Solok knew about this condition - that it would be coming soon - that it was more than possible for him to avoid the situation that made him rape her. He should have at least told the chief medical officer, and preferably the captain, any sign of the symptoms, no matter how remote, or how much it seemed to him it couldn’t be the Pon Farr should have been reported immediately. A suitable and willing mate could potentially have been found on the ship, if that didn’t happen, the ship could have gone to Vulcan, where a suitable mate most certainly would have been found. Therefor he was fully accountable for his actions during the Pon Farr, he was sentenced to six years incarceration and psychologic therapy.”

“Exactly,” Duncan told her suppressing his emotions as best as he could, using the training he had once taken to counter act telepaths. “Since it has been shown to be possible for a Vulcan to rape a person under the influence of Pon Farr, given Vulcan, and I assume your philosophy of not doing any harm to living beings it would be logical not to turn down any potential suitable mate who would voluntarily join you in the Pon Farr without finding out whether or not he could be that which you seek in a mate. If one adds to that, that you will be imprisoned if you do rape a person, I find it most unusual that you would do exactly that.” Duncan looked deep in her eyes, and was certain he saw a flicker of emotion in them before they calmed. It took his considerable eight-hundred-year people knowledge to recognize the emotion. He was fairly certain it was a mixture of annoyance and anger. But that was his best guess.

After a few moments of silence, she said, “Logical.” She continued her way again and Duncan walked beside her. After some more contemplation, she added, “However, with the war I fail to see how it would be possible, or appropriate.”

“We’ll make it possible,” Duncan said simply, failing to suppress his shrug. “We’ll write, we’ll talk across subspace band, I’ll find out when and where your ship will be and I’ll steer mine toward yours. As for appropriate, I find it appropriate, and very logical during an occurrence that is nothing if not an exercise in death, to start something from which life could be produced, and from which a potentially required repopulation after the war could be started.” T’Lerra stayed silent, and so did MacLeod. They walked onward and Duncan calmly waited for T’Lerra to complete her thought processes and answer him. He wasn’t certain, but did he see an attraction reflected in her eyes? It could be that it was just his wishful thinking.

Eventually T’Lerra said, “How do we proceed?”

Duncan’s eyes widened and turned his head to regard her. Had he just won her over? Had he just won this little battle of wits? It seemed he had, and now he fumbled for words. He hadn’t actually thought this far ahead, all the while thinking of parries to answers that basically came down to ‘no’. “Uh . . . well . . .” Duncan scratched his head, and thought it over. “At this point, Humans and other species usually date. Basically, it means the potential couple in question goes out and does something one of the two enjoys doing, while they exchange information about themselves. The idea is that they find out whether they are really as compatible as first impressions made them out to be. To see if they enjoy the same things, or at least find them tolerable. One wouldn’t want to spend the rest of one’s life together with someone one hates.”

“Sensible,” T’Lerra stated. Oh, now Duncan was certain, she was quite good at controlling the widening of her pupils but it was there. Duncan was right, even though T’Lerra would never admit to it of course, her most basic instincts toward his attractiveness and procreation were part of her decision making process. She promptly continued. “My ship leaves DS9 in three days for the front lines. I suggest we make the most of our time. Two dates per day, one in the afternoon and one at night. Is that all right?”

Duncan was taken aback for a moment, but then grinned. “My ship, the Primavera, which I’m the captain of by the way, is scheduled to leave in two days. Twice a day would be good.”

“Good, since you initiated this courtship, it is logical that you decide on how we spend this first ‘date’. The ship I serve on, the Michiel de Ruyter is docked at pylon four,” T’Lerra told him calmly. Her pronunciation of the name belonging to the great Dutch naval hero the ship was named after, was unsurprisingly impeccable. “I will be waiting there at 1330 hours. Is this acceptable?”

“Indeed it is,” Duncan said.

“Then I will see you there.” Her mannerism made it obvious that this is where she expected to part. She walked off toward the right.

“Don’t wear your uniform,” Duncan said before they parted completely.

T’Lerra turned back around and raised her eyebrow. For a moment Duncan wondered if she thought he wanted her to arrive in only her underwear. If she did, it didn’t last long. “You wish to see my personal dress habits; they will be part of your compatibility criteria.”

“Exactly, see you tomorrow,” Duncan said with a satisfied grin. T’Lerra nodded, turned back around and continued her way to her ship.

Duncan turned left, and short time later, unable to keep it in anymore, and certain she was out of earshot, he made a fist and whispered, “YES!”

~~X~~

Duncan stepped into the mansion’s kitchen, and looked at T’Lerra with a smile. The brown counters contrasted the white tiles nicely. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

T’Lerra turned around and regarded him coolly. “You thought your actions were best, and they caused no harm, there is nothing to be sorry about,” she answered him, looking at him curiously.

“I’m sorry for underestimating you,” Duncan said softly, as he crossed the big kitchen closing the distance between the two.

“It’s a flaw most Human males seem to posses: overprotective toward females,” T’Lerra said, with a raised eyebrow.

Duncan gently laid his arm around her waist as he said, “Instinct.”

“Indeed,” T’Lerra answered softly, before she wrapped her arms around his neck and the two joined in a passionate kiss, their tongues touching erotically. Duncan felt his wife tightening him against her, for the moment she seemed nothing like the cool and composed Vulcan she usually was. Once they broke the kiss she didn’t miss a beat, calm again instantly.

Duncan grinned, and told her, “I say it’s time we get ready.” T’Lerra nodded and they walked back to the living room.

On one couch, Reginald sat, with Dana in his lap. Next to them sat Ellen with her boyfriend Björn. Methos had placed himself strategically in a corner from which he could see any potential threat coming. The others were sitting around the beautifully furnished living room waiting for MacLeod to speak.

“Thank you all for coming,” Duncan started looking around the room. “I think first order of business should be introductions. Over there in the left corner we have my best friend for four hundred years, the alcoholic Edward O’Mally.” Methos shot MacLeod a glare and then gave the room a curt salute.

“On the couch, we have Dana Scully, and her boyfriend Reginald Barclay, or Reg for short. She’s been a good friend of mine, for close to three hundred years, and I’ve known her sporadically another seventy,” Duncan continued his introduction, indicating the people in question. “Next is Björn Olsson, and the tall redhead with the long hair and pony tail is, his girlfriend; Ellen Fox Scully. She’s Dana’s daughter; I consider her my niece. Next to them on the arm rest is John MacLeod, my nephew, son of my sadly deceased brother, Connor MacLeod. And last, but certainly not least, we have the always spicy and annoying Amanda Derrieux. Watch out for your valuables, she’ll steal it before you’re able to blink an eyelid.”

“Hey!” Amanda exclaimed.

“How am I wrong?” Duncan answered, folding his arms in front of his chest and looking at her smugly.

Amanda opened her mouth, than closed it a little annoyed. Than she shrugged, after which she smiled at T’Lerra’s friends, and gave them a wave. She turned back to Duncan, saying, “You didn’t have to tell everyone.” The Vulcans’ faces were written with various degrees of surprise or annoyance.

“I think T’Lerra should introduce her friends,” Duncan said smiling, and indicated his Vulcan wife.

T’Lerra took a step forward, and indicated the first of three Vulcans. “This is Sulan son of Tuvan, I met him in the Vulcan Science Acadamy. His advice and conversation has been invaluable to me.”

Sulan serenely put his fingertips together in front of his chest. His movements so precise, his long robes not once impeded his movement. “Live long and prosper,” he greeted everyone calmly, and added, “Although I must protest against the term friends, it implies an emotional attachment, which, of course, is not present.”

“Puh-lease,” ‘Edward’ said, rolling his eyes. “Vulcans. You people really should learn to admit to your emotions. You suppress them, you don’t have none.”

“I find that remark insulting,” Sulan answered Methos with a raised eyebrow.

“See, that’s the way to do it,” Methos answered with a wide grin.

“I must confess to be puzzled,” the Vulcan retorted calmly.

Methos rolled his eyes and took a few steps forward. “In order to find something insulting, you must first /feel/ insulted.” Both Sulan’s eyebrows raised in astonished defeat.

“If you wish to keep your views on life the same, I suggest not debating with Edward on matters of philosophy, emotions and life,” T’Lerra told her friends. “I have . . . and lost every debate.”

T’Lerra gaze turned to the female in the middle. “This is Derra. I have known her since early childhood.”

“Greetings,” the Vulcan woman sent into the room.

“Concluding,” T’Lerra said, turning toward the last of them. Another man. “Rudal is another close . . . acquaintance. I met him during the equivalent of high school.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the last Vulcan said to the group.

“Finally,” Duncan added with a smile, looking around the room full of friends. He turned toward the back and beckoned the present owner, his wife and four children into the room. The pink man and his finally entered far too humbly for the other people’s taste. “Our gracious host, Takahasi and his family, whose real names I find unpronounceable.” Takahashi and his family bowed humbly.

“That were the introductions,” Duncan said with a satisfied smile. “Now for the tasks we need help with . . .”

“Help?” Amanda asked indignant. “I just came early for the party, I didn’t come here to help . . .”

“You will help,” Dana stated with utmost certainty, “or I will cut off your head and feed it to the pigs out back.”

Amanda scrutinized Scully for a moment, then sat back, and said in defeat, “Fine! I’ll help!”

Duncan nodded, and continued his explanation, “The wedding will be held in the local church, after which we come back here, and celebrate the wedding. We’re going to prepare the garden for the celebration.”

T’Lerra took over from her husband, getting down to specifics. “Tables, chairs, decorations, and so forth,” she said, looking around the room calmly. “I suggest we go out back and all of us examine the garden, so it is easier to explain what we had in mind.”

So said, they went outside. Through the kitchen, through the laundry room, apart from the washing machine and dryer, also containing a refrigerator - the Takahashi’s fear of transporters apparently extended to other technologies as well - finally stepping outside in the garden. They stood, looking at the beautiful garden, on a pavement - a quick walkway surrounding the house, thus allowing clear access to both the house and things that were beyond the walkway, in this case the garden. It was roughly a rectangle. The right and top was bounded by a high hedge. An entryway led to the street. The entryway was a nice opening in the hedge, its top arched. They were standing in front of a similar arch, same height, but the hedge that was in between them and the garden itself was much lower, making the entryway a heightened arch. The low hedge went a long way to the left, plants from all over the Federation grew in a stunning vista. After about five meters the low hedge turned around a corner, halfway there was a paved path that led to a shed, beautifully grown into the garden. To the right the low hedge also continued for about five meters, where the higher hedge at a right angle started. The right side from the archway was mostly lawn. The left side of it was slightly wavy, with in the left far corner of the lawn a beautiful fountain. A few paved pathways laid left curling into the dense plant-filled garden. The paved pathways extended into the lawn, coming together in the middle and leading from there to the two arched exits/entrances.

“Wow,” John said, taking in the beautiful sight.

“The garden is indeed esthetically pleasing,” Rudal confirmed letting his cool gaze flow across the garden.

“Definitely very nice,” Amanda commented herself.

“Just nice?” Methos asked skeptically.

“Hey, I said very nice,” Amanda defended herself, looking over the garden, as she walked through the arched entry way, then turned back to regard the others. “I don’t know, it just misses a certain something.”

Dana folded her arms across her chest and answered in annoyance, “Let me guess, the shiny reflection of diamonds you’d like to steal.”

Amanda’s eyes switched to Dana and narrowed, “That must be it, bitch.”

“Whore,” Dana returned under her breath, the group looked at the exchange with surprised eyes.

“Slut.”

“ALL RIGHT!” Duncan boomed over the two, making everybody look to him. “We know now you two don’t like each other! You want to fight, go do it sometime else, not now, and /definitely/ /not/ during the wedding and the party tomorrow, or else . . .”

Methos couldn’t resist finishing the sentence for MacLeod, “ . . . He might get medieval on your heinies.”

The group turned to regard Methos, who just smiled. Then T’Lerra butted in, “And if he does not, I will.” Now the group was really stumped, looking at the Vulcan female with big eyes. Her Vulcan friends seemed the most surprised of all. T’Lerra then calmly walked forward and through the archway, walking further onto the lawn. Then Ellen laughed out loud, the rest of the group, except of course the Vulcans, joined in. The Vulcans just raised their eyebrows at the display of a whole group of Humans laughing this hard.

They all went into the garden and looked around. “We’ll have to replicate chairs, tables, plates and utensils, decorations . . .” Duncan started looking around the large lawn.

“Not to mention something that can be made into a roof, just in case, preferably a roof that can be opened and closed,” John told everyone. The last few hours had been incredible, the woman and Duncan MacLeod really had shown him proof, he had just found a long lost relative, an uncle, in some twisted way a sister as well.

“Uh, why?” Björn asked slightly confused.

Methos answered him with an incredulous face, “This is Scotland.” As if that explained everything.

Björn didn’t seem to get it. “It rains a lot in Scotland,” Ellen explained to him softly.

“Oh,” Björn said, getting it now.

“I’m thinking,” Dana started, her left hand at her chin as she looked around the lawn with intensity. She continued a moment later, “stop me if you had something completely different in mind, but . . .”

Ellen grinned as she remembered a wedding of her own.

~~X~~

February, 2342

The Ferengi DaiMon Baka of the Ferengi Alliance Marauder Morkas stood in the bedroom of his ship. He looked at his bed, and more importantly the person lying on it. He couldn’t get enough of her, he drank in the naked form of his fiance eagerly, as she laid there on her side looking at him, supporting her head with her left arm. She had curves the likes of which he had never seen before, and (soft) muscles where they mattered, her long red hair framed her face beautifully, her lips and mouth were fantastic to kiss and even more fantastic to get food from, or put food in, her glittering deep green eyes, so full of expression and intelligence he could drown easily in, but most importantly, she had a business sense.

“We’re going to get married in a couple of days,” Baka said with a crooked smile. Ellen’s gaze never left the well-dressed DaiMon, she just looked at him, giving him a sexy and loving smile. “It is about time we set up the contracts, discuss terms and such.”

Ellen’s eyebrows went up and she asked, “A prenuptial agreement?” The bedroom was tastefully furnished, which translated to, there was as much expensive stuff placed there to impress any guests. The color scheme was predominantly orange.

“Hewmon prenuptial agreements are so restrictive,” Baka told her with lecherous grin. “A Ferengi Marriage Contract has everything.” Baka took a PADD out of his uniform, climbed onto the bed and laid down next to his naked fiancee. He held the PADD so that both he and her could see it. He opened a standard Marriage Contract form, and it appeared on the screen. Ellen raised herself a little bit and looked at the screen.

“First point: length of marriage,” Baka read from the screen.

“Length of marriage?” Ellen asked dumbfounded. “Are you telling me, that you people make a marriage last a certain amount of time on before hand?”

“Yes,” Baka answered innocently. “The most common is until after the birth of a child or several children, in agreement with the father usually.”

Ellen blinked, then looked at him in disdain. “So basically in that scenario you buy yourself a breeding machine?”

“Yes,” Baka told her with grin. “So what’s your preference?”

Ellen shook her head in disbelief and then said, “Till the day one of us dies.”

It was Baka’s turn to look surprised. That was a long time! Not that he minded, he would love to posses a prize piece of property like her; especially with the whole not aging thing, for the rest of his or her life, but that was rather an unconventional length of time. “You certain? This is a binding contract, you know?”

“Well,” Ellen added, thinking it over, she let the fingers of her right hand drum one the curve of the thighs, and Baka’s eyes were irrevocably drawn to them. “If there isn’t a standard clause for disbanding the marriage when there are insurmountable disagreements, add it.”

“That’s the next part: reasons for a legal divorce,” Baka told her and showed her the PADD. “Several standard reasons to choose from, you can choose more than one: insurmountable disagreements, incompatible philosophies, incompatible financial status, male no sexual gratification received, etc., etc.”

Ellen read of the list of reasons and then looked at Baka. “It’s all about the man, isn’t it?” Baka shrugged sheepishly. “Just choose all that apply to us and add in a line that it goes both ways.” Baka nodded, not wanting to screw up the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and did as she suggested.

“Ok,” Baka started, looking at the third entry. His heart pounded in his chest. “Number of children, do you even want children?”

“Sure, I want children,” Ellen told him with a smile. “Of course it will require DNA fertilization, you know my biology on that end.”

“Yes, I know,” Baka answered, his heart pounded harder, and he felt a little giddy, at least she wanted children! “So how many would you like? One?”

“How many would /you/ like, Baka?” Ellen asked sensually, smiling a seductive smile at him.

“Uh, well,” Baka started, thinking about the rules of acquisition, never show how much something is worth to you, or you’ll end up paying far more. “I’d say about two.”

Ellen looked him straight in the eye and he became nervous, then she said, “No, don’t think of this as a negotiation. How many children would you really want? Not this calculation about how many you think I’d be willing to bear. How many children do you want?”

Baka just couldn’t resist her, never could, so nervously, going against all the rules of acquisition he blurted out enthusiastically, “Six! Three girls, three boys!”

“Oooh, my aching womb,” Ellen joked, never once letting go of his eyes with her own. She smiled at him and said, “You really /want/ six, don’t you? There’s no profit analysis behind this?”

Baka felt his stomach constrict. She was onto him! He felt like he was sick, like he was about to lose everything, that she was going to tell he was not a real, money grubbing Ferengi, because it was true, when he thought about children, he thought about teaching them everything he knew, playing with them, not how much money they could make him as they grew up and later on in life. Blushing, he nodded ashamed, and said, “Yes.”

“Then six it is,” Ellen told him with a smile. He looked up stunned, did she just say what he thought she said? Ellen nodded at him, “Yep, six kids, I’m actually looking forward to it too . . . One thing though, the girls will be taught to be the best they can be, got that? No running around on Ferenginar or anywhere else for that matter, naked, performing a man’s every whim.”

“Yes,” Baka agreed immediately, hardly believing his luck.

Ellen grinned at his disbelieving expression, and decided to see, “You don’t give the Human men enough credit. They have us women perfectly trained. Marriage by definition includes children, exactly as many as they want. Most people would frown upon a married couple that doesn’t produce children. The women, the mothers themselves, teach their daughters to bear children for their husbands, they practically demand their girls to produce them grandchildren. You see, all this equality stuff, was really all instigated my males, for the sole purpose of making us believe in and actively participate, using our own dirty minds, in every kind of sexual act. The men turned us, the women, into their perfect fuck toys.” Baka’s face was priceless, he looked . . . well, their was no way to describe it. He was disbelieving, looking like he hit the jackpot, appalled, and respecting toward his Human counterparts all at the same time. Until his disbelief took over.

“You are lying. You’re just trying to mess with me, joking around,” he accused with an approving glare. If she could have him in such a state, what could she do to future ‘customers’.

“Only partly,” Ellen said with a wide grin, that let a hand sensually curve around the back of one of his big ears. Baka shuddered under the ministration. “Or do you dispute my sexual ability.” He turned around, placed himself on top of her and kissed her fiercely.

*****

“Why do I have the feeling we’re forgetting something?” Ellen asked Baka thoughtfully as she sat down upon the armrest of his chair on the bridge. The bridge crew peaked at her naked form now and then, but they had gotten used to her presence enough that they could keep their focus.

“Invitations are obviously sent,” Baka started counting off the list in his head. “Your ship and crew are present. Check. You have given the ship and its captaincy to your first officer . . . you have done that, haven’t you?” Ellen nodded, racking her brain. “Check. The holosuite is completely furnished to our mutual preferences for the ceremony. Check. We have drinks replicated in there, not just holographic drinks. Check. We’ve made sure none of the drinks and decor will clash with any of the guests’ sensibilities. Check. We’ve just rendez-voused with the ship that brings your mother, and are about to beam her over. Check. . . . so what are we forgetting then?”

Ellen looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, “I don’t know . . .”

One of Baka’s subordinates spoke up, “They are ready for beam over.”

Baka grinned with anticipation, he would like to see what kind of woman spawned such a heavenly creature as his Ellen. “Beam her over then,” Baka told him.

Suddenly Ellen’s eyes widened and she looked down. “Oh, my god, I know what I have forgotten. Please tell me you told your transporter chief not to remove her clothing!?”

“Uh, no. You know women on Ferengi soil and ships are naked,” Baka answered her confused.

Ellen jumped up and started running toward the turbo left, yelling, “I forgot to tell her, she’ll kill him!”

Baka grinned at first, then looked back at her as she stepped into the lift and turned around. “That’s just a metaphor right?”

“No,” Ellen answered, and Baka’s eyes widened.

*****

The Ferengi transporter chief slammed with his back against the wall of the Ferengi transporter room. He was held up several centimeters off the ground, by a hand wrapped tightly around his neck.

“If you don’t tell me what you did with my clothes and how to get them back, I will kill you,” a very naked Dana scully told the Ferengi male. Said male managed to gurgle but not much more, after which Dana loosened her grip slightly.

“Females must be naked in Ferengi culture,” the man managed to blurt out, his eyes filled with fear, the diminutive woman, the same height as himself was still holding him up with just one hand.

Dana’s eyes narrowed, and growled, “Do I look like I care?”

The man continued sputtering, “Clothes in buffer, will return when you leave.”

“Now! You will return . . .” Dana started, until a high pitched panicky voice interrupted her.

“Mother! Put him down!”

Dana looked over to the entrance surprised and looked at her very naked daughter. “Why the hell are you naked?” Dana blurted out in disbelief.

“Mom!” Ellen ordered Dana with a controlled, but panicked voice, as she walked closer to her mother. “Let him go, mom!”

“He took my clothes,” Dana accused angrily.

“It’s Ferengi culture, mother. Women are naked,” Ellen explained, reaching the transporter controls. “So just let him go, mother, okay?”

Dana sighed heavily and let the Ferengi, who promptly dropped to the floor and started gurgling. “I still want my clothes back,” she told the two of them angrily.

“Mother, I forgot to tell you, but you’re going to have to be naked while you are on this ship,” Ellen told her, crossing her arms across her chest, indicating there would be no discussion.

“The hell I am,” Dana told her daughter angrily. “And why the hell are you not dressed anyway!? You don’t have to.”

“I’m following my fiance’s culture . . .” Ellen started.

“What about our culture!?” Dana bit back. At this time Baka arrived, his shoes squeaked as he slid to halt in front of the entrance, and then dashed into the transporter room. Seeing his transporter chief was relatively unharmed and slowly getting back up, he decided to just stay and observe.

“We’ve had plenty of compromises,” Ellen said, shoving the objection away.

Dana narrowed her eyes and accused, “How can you call them compromises if you are running around naked so you are nicely degraded and subjugated? Equality, one of our most valuable values ring a bell?”

Ellen grinned and said, “You can only be degraded being naked if you feel ashamed for your body, and you’ve taught me to be proud of it.”

Dana gave her a growl, crossed her arms across her naked breasts and said, “I’m starting to regret that decision. Still won’t run around naked.”

“Mom, if you love me, you will do this for me,” Ellen told her, taking out her trump card.

Dana’s eyes widened, than narrowed at her daughter, an internal battle could be seen reflected in her eyes. A few moments later Dana answered her, “Fine, I’ll be naked, but there is no way in hell I’ll leave my sword behind.”

“Materialize this woman’s sword immediately,” Baka ordered his transporter chief, realizing he was just getting a lucky break. “Replicate her a sheath as well.” Baka then let his eyes roam across the two naked women, both of whom looked at him with a little surprise. “We’ll negotiate the price for it later.” Then he turned around and walked away.

Dana overcame her surprise first. As her sword materialized on the transporter padd, she narrowed her eyes again, looked up at her daughter and said, “I will kill you for this.”

Ellen grinned widely, as Dana went to get her sword.

*****

“I can’t believe this. Why him? The guy’s an ugly troll with elephant ears, he thinks women are objects to be bartered for, he has us walking around naked, and worse he’s just plain rude,” Dana complained, brushing aside some of her raven-black hairs, before dumping herself defeated on her bed next to her daughter. She turned her head to look at the younger and taller woman, sighed and said, “You could do so much better than him. Why?”

“I think the ears are sexy,” Ellen quipped with a sly smile, earning her a groan from her mother. Strictly speaking she was telling the truth, Ellen did find the ears sexy, but that wasn’t really the reason why she picked him. “You’ve seen him act around me, mom,” Ellen elaborated. “He does treat me with respect and as an equal, especially considering what he was taught in this culture. As for the nakedness, if I wasn’t, the crew or other DaiMon’s he’d meet would consider him weak, we can’t have that. Finally, his ability to relativize his culture as well as mine is what made me just fall in love with him, meaning he eagerly does things that would make the rest of the Ferengi throw him out, or even be put in jail.”

Dana sighed, and shook her head as she looked up, “Love is blind, and it tends to turn people into fools, it’s a deadly combination.”

“Thanks, mom!” Ellen exclaimed, then hugged her mother and gave her a big kiss on her cheek. Ellen knew that this was as close she was going to get to her mother admitting out loud she approved, and she could see in her eyes she did approve.

Ellen and Baka were married the next day.

~~X~~

Chapter 6: Problematic Sexuality

The kitchen; place for preparing food, place for refrigerator, pans, utensils, often plates, most definitely cups, fluids and multiple implements all having to do with cooking, and the consuming of food, on occasion also a table to eat said food, according to some: women’s domain, or at least it was one day, in present time the kitchen could be reduced to a slot in a wall that made everything you want out of thin air by simply telling it what it is exactly, you want. But not this kitchen, no, this one was still the original one, with pots, and pans, and a furnace, and in this case, or more accurately at this time, the domain of four women, three of which immortal.

“You should have seen his reaction,” Ellen said, with a grin, cleaning the counter with a dishcloth. “A little lingerie number and his eyes practically bugged out of his eye sockets, he was this close to openly drooling.”

Two of the other women giggled, turning in a loud laughing.

“I do not understand,” the fourth, T’Lerra, answered confused. “Would that not constitute a good thing?”

“Definitely,” Amanda answered with a grin. “It is not very flattering, if the guy just looks you over for a moment, then leisurely goes back to reading his book. I assure you.”

Dana smiled and added, “Doesn’t make it any less funny to see though.” She leaned back against the counter and took a sip from her cool soda.

“Not to mention any less of a turn on,” Ellen added, drawing looks from the other women. “Well, I think it is. A guy I want to turn on, drooling over me, holds a certain attraction.” Amanda and Dana shrugged, apparently to them the drool could be kept back as long as their intended victims showed a healthy interest. “So, Amanda, spill, you did say, you could assure us?”

“Hmm,” Amanda started, looking dreamily and far away for a moment, she too was drinking something to cool down. “I remember in the seventeenth century . . . or was it the eighteenth? One of the two anyway, there was this guy, hot, fair skin, muscles, awesome smile. So I managed to talk him into my bedroom. I leave to put on something ‘more comfortable’, which in those days meant absolute agony both getting it on as wearing it. I come back out, he’s reading something, still don’t know exactly what and make him aware of my return. He lowers his reading material, just enough to peer over it, his eyes move up and down once. He makes an approval sound - not ooh, baby, but like somebody checking out the work of a subordinate, ‘Adequate, but this bolt needs to be tightened better.’ - and then promptly lies back down and continues reading. Fifteen minutes of hell putting the stuff on, and a ‘hmpf’ is all I get . . . He was gay. This was before homosexuality was accepted. Hell, even though some people knew it existed, it was something not to be considered. It wasn’t talked about, nobody was it, and if you were, you didn’t acknowledge it, you married a nice somebody from the opposite sex anyway and hoped for the best. In hindsight, I should have known, all the signs were there.”

The women, except T’Lerra - she just smiled almost imperceptibly - sniggered. “I wish to ask your advice on something,” T’Lerra stated after mustering up the courage. The other three were instantly all ears, turning to look at the long-haired Vulcan.

“Oh?” Ellen asked curiously.

Amanda smiled sneakily, telling her, “If you need to know the best way to please Duncan, I’m the one to ask. I can tell you /all/ the right places.”

“I do not require your help with that,” T’Lerra answered calmly, her body ramrod straight, even more so than usual, she was uncomfortable, but comfortable enough to have a humorous twinkle in her eye.

Dana grinned at the half joke, and answered, smiling lecherously, “I’ll bet. That telepathic bond must help with that a lot. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could teach Amanda a thing or two about Duncan’s body.”

T’Lerra’s stance calmed down some, showing she was growing a little bit more comfortable among these women. With a bigger twinkle in her eyes, she answered, “I did not require a telepathic bond to find out ‘Duncan’s spots’.” Amanda and Dana looked up at her a little surprised, and then grinned back at Duncan’s wife.

“Ugh, will you please refrain from uncle Duncan’s ‘spots’. This is getting way too incestuous for me,” Ellen told them with a disgusted face. Dana smiled at her daughter, who crossed her arms across her chest in response.

“My question does concern . . . sexuality, and sexual feelings,” T’Lerra interrupted the mother - daughter moment, growing a little uncomfortable again. The three women looked at T’Lerra with hungry eyes, waiting for her to continue.

~~X~~

March 2377

T’Lerra and Duncan lay next to each other. The bed on his ship was comfortable enough, but still T’Lerra couldn’t get to sleep. Duncan on the other hand was fast asleep.

T’Lerra lay there calmly, or so it seemed. She lay on her back, looking up at the dark metal ceiling of Duncan’s quarters. Unseen in the darkness the quarters were filled with artefacts from throughout the Highlander’s life. Duncan was lying on his side, his back toward his wife. Occasionally he turned or twisting around.

T’Lerra breathed in deeply and calmly let out her breath, sexual images blasted through her mind. No matter how hard she tried banishing them, they continued to haunt her consciousness. Her nipples had hardened and her vagina was moist, she was aroused, no doubt about it. T’Lerra fidgeted, before getting her body movements back under control, even if doing the same to her emotions seemed impossible. It was horrible, if felt as if someone else was in her mind, forcing her mind in this position.

It had gone on for several months now, it started after their Pon Farr and the subsequent Vulcan marriage ritual. To the Federation and its records they were officially married, but they had decided to do both the Vulcan marriage, which was mostly a formality, and a Human marriage and subsequent party - more of a feast - a true celebration for them and their friends of their decision to spend the rest of their lives together. For several months the two had discussed where, when, how and who, and they were slowly reaching an agreement. And during those months, T’Lerra had gotten sexually aroused for no apparent reason. At first it had been an inconvenience, then it had turned into an irritation. For the Vulcan female, whose culture had taught her to all but fear her sexuality, to lose control over that part of herself was horrific. A short while later, it had started to feel like she was losing control of her mind, no matter how much she tried, she kept getting aroused, coupled with her upbringing, and her horror she had started to feel guilty, and dirty, almost like a slut. Since all her mental strength was strained to keep herself from getting aroused - and failing miserably - she had nothing left to keep the other emotions from surfacing. So for months she had spiraled downward - too stoic, logical and stubborn to admit to anyone, including her fresh husband anything was wrong.

This night it would come to an end. These emotions were toying with, playing her like a piano. Aroused for no reason, ever increasing her efforts to stop herself, her guilt and dirty sensations would grow stronger. When she turned her attention to suppressing them, her arousal would suddenly leap to new heights, forcing her to divide her attention again. After lying there for a quarter of an hour, her mind being jumbled about, pulled along a string by emotions that seemed to mock her so-called mastery of them, she finally broke down. The long months of inner continuous struggle that not even meditation had calmed down, had finally sapped her strength. A tear formed at her right eye and leaked down her cheek. It was the last straw. The utter horror of shedding tears, the utter horror of losing so much control she was going to cry like a little girl, caused her self loathing to increase. As a result of that, sobs wracked her body, which in turn made her despair at the situation grow. The fact that despair was now an active, dominant emotion that she was unable to keep down, made her cry for real: tears now streamed freely down her face, as the sound of her crying gently filled the room. The result was a spiral downward into a bottomless pit, where despair, self loathing, shame, and sadness crushed any and all control she might once have possessed.

Duncan’s eyes snapped open instantly, something was wrong! The link he shared with his wife had told him that. Now that he was awake, her emotions assaulted him with a vengeance. He felt T’Lerra cringe then, a new wave of shame washing over her, and with that over him. Her crying felt like a knife being stuck into his heart. T’Lerra was Vulcan! No matter how bad their inner struggle was, they did not cry, unless . . . unless what? Duncan contemplated that question as he turned around to face T’Lerra. For a moment he hesitated about embracing her, knowing she - like most Vulcans - didn’t like to be touched, but then he did anyway. He came to only one conclusion, something that made a Vulcan cry had to be truly, truly bad. But what was so bad? He had noticed, via the bond and his eyes that she struggled more often with something or other, but she had told him it was nothing, that it wasn’t something he could help her with anyway, and that there was nothing to worry about. Apparently she had either been lying - probably to herself the most - or she had underestimated her - now obviously a - problem.

To his surprise, T’Lerra turned to face him, embraced him back desperately, and like a . . . Human? - female she buried her head into his shoulder and cried harder, body wracking in sobs. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice laced with thick emotion, shame most predominantly. “I’m not worthy. I lost all control, I’m useless.”

“Hey,” Duncan told her sternly, but gently. “Control or no control, you’ll always be worthy, and never be useless.” He felt her crying harder, breaking down completely, the sobs gone. He felt her mental shields lowering, as she clung to him more tightly, grateful. That was the emotion that raced from her mind to his, and radiated from her in waves. He gently probed into her mind and what he saw shocked him. He saw a bottomless vortex twisting and crashing around uncontrollably, T’Lerra tumbled downward and downward, further and further in it, dragged down, twisting around in circles, like she was an inconsequential rag doll.

Not understanding how he did it, he suddenly spun a net beneath that caught her gently. A moment later he was beside her, and pulled her up, holding her gently. The net disappeared, but the two just hung there. Then he moved upward, reaching the place where her two minds met. His mind, containing centuries of his own memories, and countless millennia from other Immortals, was like a giant citadel compared to her own. A large tranquil safe place where the two gently stood, the hungry vortex far below, seeming but a small inconsequent speck with no power whatsoever. Here, Duncan felt T’Lerra slowly calm down. Her emotions still out of control, but they were no longer violent unpleasant emotions bent on devouring her whole. Her lighter emotions, pleasure, enjoyment, curiosity, and others, too vied for her attention. This in turn made the vortex below lose a considerable sum of its strength, and it grew smaller.

Outside Duncan gently stroked T’Lerra’s long hair, whispering soothing words in her ear. Her crying lessened, reducing to light sobs and finally whimpers. She still clung to him desperately. “Tell me what’s going on. Please let me help,” Duncan whispered, imploring her with his tone.

“I can’t control my lust,” T’Lerra whispered deeply ashamed. “I can’t control it. I get aroused constantly, no matter how hard I try to control it, or push it down. It just won’t go away, I even get . . . wet, and it keeps coming back, doesn’t matter how much I try. Just now, it had gotten worse then ever, and I got ashamed . . . and guilty . . . sadness to such an extend a tear flowed . . . than despair . . .” T’Lerra didn’t feel like continuing, the newly invoked sobs made the rest clear enough.

“Don’t worry, beautiful,” Duncan soothed her gently. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. We’ll cure you, and even if there is no cure, it doesn’t matter, plenty of people living perfectly good lives without mastering their emotions.” T’Lerra finally removed her head from his chest and looked up at him gratefully. He kissed her on the lips gently and then said, “I just wish you told me sooner. Let me help if there is ever another problem. Ok?”

T’Lerra nodded and they continued the kiss, Duncan mulling over the problem. She had been aroused moments before he awoke. Her arousal and thinking about before he awoke triggered his memory. He had had a particularly erotic dream in which every beautiful woman he had given more than a cursory glance at had been sexually pleasing him. They used their bodies in every way ship or form, feathers, leather, an occasional whip, things he had never seen or heard about, and had no desire to, especially not now. T’Lerra had been in there of course, but also Tessa, Amanda, Kate, and strangely even Dana. He had woken up with a painful erection, that had disappeared the moment he heard his wife cry. Duncan broke the kiss, and asked T’Lerra, “When did this start?”

“Shortly after the Pon Farr,” T’Lerra answered him.

Duncan nodded and asked another question. “What other times did this uncontrollable arousal occur?”

T’Lerra looked into his eyes a moment and then, recounted a few times that came to her mind unbidden, “There was twenty-three days ago at the meeting with my captain and senior staff.” Duncan looked thoughtful, counting back, trying to remember. T’Lerra pauzed a moment, she continued as Duncan signaled her to. “In the commercial transport, when we returned to the starbase and your ship from the Pon Farr. Forty-six days ago, during dinner in the mess hall with my crew mates.” T’Lerra stopped recounting, looking at Duncan thinking. Although their connection was open, and she was still safely in his mental arms, his thought patterns were too entrenched into memory recall for her to understand what he was thinking.

After about a minute, Duncan’s face lighted up, his jaw lowered slightly. He stayed silent for another moment and then he quietly exclaimed, “I got it! I understand.” Then he chuckled, before he laughed lightly. “That’s so funny,” he added and laughed out loud.

T’Lerra shrank away from him, tears threatening to overwhelm her again, how could he laugh at this, calling it funny. She felt his arms suddenly tight protectively, and he looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, with shock. She saw the pain in his eyes at the realization what he had done. “Not you, I’m not laughing at you.” When she calmed down some, he started explaining with a smile on his face, and a laugh threatening to come out in his heart. “In the transport, when the female Andorian flight attendant in her short skirt bent over right in front of my face.” He looked into T’Lerra’s eyes and continued when he saw incomprehension there. “During your meeting, when I had my own with the female employer, who deliberately wore very sexy clothes in order to dull the mind of a person who liked women during negotiations. Remember I even told you through our bond about it, and that she may get me turned on for you, it wouldn’t allow her to lower the price any more. During you diner time, I’m pretty sure I was . . . well . . . masturbating, and just now, I was having a very erotic dream.”

Duncan looked at her with an enthusiastic grin, and she looked a lot less confused, but still not with revelation. “Are you saying . . .?” she started uncertainly.

“Don’t you see?” Duncan asked a wide grin on his face now. “Whenever I have more than a quick sex thought, when I get sexually aroused, you get sexually aroused. There’s nothing wrong with you, physically or mentally, it’s the bond, our link.”

“But I’ve never heard about this happening before,” T’Lerra stated quite confused, only slowly her control returning.

“Have you ever heard of a Human male and a Vulcan female mating? I haven’t,” Duncan said a wide grin adorning his face. “Apparently either Vulcan females don’t like Human males very much or vice versa. And if there are more couples like that, I’m not exactly Human.”

“Immortal,” T’Lerra whispered with revelation. “Homo Sapiens Immortalis, not Homo Sapiens Sapiens. But still why?”

Duncan grinned widely, “Vulcan male Pon Farrs are dominant, right?”

“Yes,” T’Lerra answered him with a mixture of emotions. “The female seven-year cycle is overwritten. A male is first, then that will be their mutual Pon Farr. If the female’s is first, then the male’s will still cause a full Pon Farr in the female, even if it’s only a week later, and then the male Pon Farr cycle will be theirs.”

“Exactly,” Duncan told with a wide grin. “Biologically speaking a male’s Pon Farr, a male’s orgasm is more important. A male has to ejaculate in order for there to be procreation, while a woman doesn’t even really have to be aroused. I don’t have Pon Farr, somehow your body has mistaken me getting aroused as going into Pon Farr, and just like with all Vulcan couplings, your body starts to go into Pon Farr, and goes out of it once the male, me, goes out of it. Every time I get aroused, you go into . . . a . . . ehm, a mini Pon Farr.”

T’Lerra cuddled up close as she thought about his words, finally saying, “Logical.” T’Lerra stayed silent for a moment, the two of them enjoying each other’s company. Finally her curiosity got the better of her and asked, “So what was so funny?”

“My crew,” Duncan answered, looking in her eyes with a wide grin. “When I announced I was engaged to you, they started making jokes about getting sex only once in seven years.”

“But we have sex even without the Pon Farr,” T’Lerra answered confused.

“We know that, but they don’t, and I didn’t bother to correct them. I told rather seriously that it may be once in seven years, but that that one time was so fantastic it was enough to sate me seven years,” Duncan explained with a wide grin. “In turn they pitied me, and said they’d never consider a Vulcan as a mate. They think I get some only once in seven years, in reality you get horny whenever I do. Who knows, perhaps some of my male crewmen might get the same results: a woman who wants them every time they want her, but they’ll never find out.” T’Lerra had started to giggle through the story, and was now laughing out loud, she hadn’t yet had the strength needed to reassert her full control.

“Wow,” Duncan whispered huskily. “I like your laugh and your giggle. It sounds pretty sexy; I wish I could hear it more often.”

T’Lerra’s eyes widened slightly. She looked up into Duncan’s smoldering gaze, as she felt herself grow aroused. “What are you thinking off?” she whispered sexily up at him.

“The dream I had when you woke me up,” Duncan whispered at her, in their minds he showed her the dream. Their mental versions had disentangled by now, although they stayed close, and the black vortex of death had disappeared. “Would you allow me to start a harem?” he joked as they both grew hot by the moment.

“Only if I get to tame and train them,” she returned the joke before the two started a passionate kiss, that quickly progressed to a full blown sex session.

~~X~~

T’Lerra took a deep breath and explained to the three Immortal women, “It seems that whenever Duncan gets aroused, so do I.”

Dana blinked in confusion. “And that’s a problem, how?”

“Yeah,” Amanda commented with a confused face. She shifted her position against the counter as she continued, “I’d say that would solve some problems the average couple would encounter.”

T’Lerra calmly looked at each of the three females for a moment, then explained, “It is not getting aroused that is the problem, it is when and where that is. On several inappropriate occasions, for example during meetings with superior officers, I get aroused. It intrudes on my thought patterns and my concentration. I have tried suppressing them, pushing them away, but it seems that that only increases the arousing feelings hold on me.”

Ellen’s eyebrows had raised. She leaned back against the counter, arms across her chest and commented, “Ignore them.”

“Ignore them?” T’Lerra asked with a questioning eyebrow.

“Ignore them,” Ellen confirmed, nodding her head. “Ignore your arousal, simply do what you are supposed to be doing, and do nothing about your arousal. It will pass.”

“I believe that is what I said I was doing, was it not?” T’Lerra asked curiously, looking from woman to woman.

“No,” Dana started to explain. She stepped closer to T’Lerra and continued, “You said you tried to master the pain, push it aside, force it away, try to make it become less. It’s not the same thing. When you get aroused, you have to just ignore it, do nothing. You simply focus on what you’re doing and do that, while you let the horny thoughts run their course. You don’t try to push it away, that’ll just make it worse.”

Amanda decided to explain further. “You basically have to do some multi-tasking, like a computer. You do what you need to do, while your arousal is running unhindered in the background. You just let the arousal have its fun.”

“That’s the trick,” Ellen confirmed with a nod, standing back up straight. “Ignore it. It’s not always easy, sometimes it just demands more attention, and you can’t ignore it, but that’s the way to do it.”

“I do not think I consider that a satisfactory answer,” T’Lerra answered without much power behind her voice.

Dana was the one told her, “It’s the only answer there is.”

Duncan peeked from behind the corner. He looked at the women through the door frame, and called excitedly, “Dana, I’ve got something to show you. Come on.”

Dana looked at the other women for a moment and shrugged. She followed Duncan. The three remaining women looked at each other for a moment and then decided to follow. As Dana and Duncan walked to the back of the house, she asked him, “What is it?”

“You’ll see. You’ll see,” Duncan said as he walked along the hallways excitedly. Dana shrugged and kept walking. Finally they reached the back and went outside. Pavement stretched out left and right. The pavement lasted for only a short distance, after that there was a sand road leading away from the house. Grass land lined the road flowing over hills. To the right there were two barns. One was for the animals, the other was filled with farming machines. A tractor with a filled manure wagon stood slightly off to the right. Duncan gestured for Dana to continue walking.

Dana did, looking around. Once she had walked a few meters she turned around, and throwing up her hands she said, “I don’t see anything.” Her eyes went wide when she saw almost everyone look at her.

“Takahashi!” Duncan called, and a moment later the manure wagon activated and Dana got covered from head to toe in the shit. She screamed out her shock and indignation, causing some of the shit to enter her mouth. Once the wagon turned off, Dana spit out what she had inside. She looked up to scald Duncan’s ass raw, but noticed he wasn’t there anymore. Most of the people looking were shocked at first, then slowly grins started forming on their faces, except Reg, and of course T’Lerra and her Vulcan friends. A moment later Duncan returned holding a hose. “There’s more,” he said with a malicious grin. “Taka Jr., go!” he called and a moment later liquid manure spread out from the hose, drenching Dana. He kept spraying for twenty seconds, as Dana closed her eyes and mouth, and kept her nose closed with her dirty fingers. Horrified, she felt how the liquid shit seeped through her clothes and penetrated every pore on her body. “All right!” Duncan called out grinning wildly and the stream ended.

Everybody, again except the Vulcans, was laughing by the time Dana shook her arms in a vain attempt to get rid of some of the manure from them, and she called, “You, fucking bastard!” Duncan laughed out loud now, and the rest’s laughing increased in volume. Reginald hadn’t been able to keep from laughing either, she just looked so funny. “What the HELL is this for!?” Dana yelled out loud in disgust, feeling some of the liquid seep down her hair, face and body.

“I remember a certain Ambassador on Q’onos taking pleasure in ordering me around, and making me do stupid things, and then I told her I’d get her back for it,” Duncan told her with a wide grin.

Dana shook her head gently, confused slightly, before she remembered and yelled out, “THAT WAS EIGHTY YEARS AGO!”

Duncan grinned widely and said, “I have a long memory.” After that he laughed out loud again, the others snickered and giggled.

Resigned to her disgusting fate, Dana stated, “You can clean up whatever I leave around during my trip to the shower. I think I’ll take the scenic route, and really make the house a mess.” Then she started walking forward.

“Björn,” Duncan prompted.

Björn took a hose from a moment next to where he stood. He pointed the high pressure hose at Dana who stopped in her tracks. “Sorry, ‘mom’,” Björn said with a wide grin. He flicked the lever to the side and a powerful stream of freezing cold water blasted onto Dana. “But I really don’t fancy cleaning or walking through the mess you leave.”

While everybody else, except the Vulcans snickered and laughed, Dana held up her hands and got drenched by the freezing water. The force of the stream made her stagger back. It even hurt a little. Björn let the stream go up and down, thoroughly cleaning Dana and washing the now thinned manure backwards into a drain. After a good minute he closed off the water. Except for the smell, Dana was clean. Dana shivered madly, the water had been really cold. Everybody watched a shivering Dana glower at them, which made everybody laugh again.

“Now you can take a shower,” Duncan told Dana with a wide grin. “And hurry up will you, you smell.”

Dana shot daggers at him with her eyes, then to the others who laughed harder at Duncan’s joke. “Bastards. You better start sleeping with your eyes open, Duncan. I’ll get you for this,” Dana said, as she walked, shivering, into the house.

“I’m so scared,” Duncan called after her sarcastically. Dana looked back and gave him the evil eye.

Reg joined Dana. He slung an arm around and did everything he could to keep from laughing, his face twisted in a grimace, lips stretched trying to keep closed. Dana looked up at him, glad he was still willing to be so close to her after that, angry that he had laughed along with the others. “You will be groveling a lot,” Dana told him with a low growling voice.

Chapter 7: Pon Farr

Duncan, T’Lerra, and friends looked around the garden, transformed for the occasion in a wedding gathering. A retractable see-through roof covered the garden, which was now slowly opening after Reg pushed the button. He had is arm around the shoulders of his girlfriend, holding the remote with the other, looking up at the roof expectantly. Dana was still sulking, even though she smelled nice and flowery by now, and her clothes were scent and excrement free. “That’s working perfectly,” Reg commented at the roof with a grin.

“Thanks, Reg,” Duncan told the man with a grin, clasping a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“Well,” Methos drawled, looking around the setting. Tables lining the hedges, with an clearing in the middle where people could dance. A stage in the back where the band would play. “It’s done. Tomorrow early morning only the finishing touches.”

“Indeed, it seems quite functional,” a calm male voice stated.

The bride and groom and their group of friends turned around and looked at the two new comers. One male, and the other female, both Vulcan.

T’Lerra raised her hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting and said, “Peace and long life.”

The two Vulcans raised their hands in the same way and answered traditionally, “Live long and prosper.”

“You are early, I did not expect you until tomorrow,” T’Lerra stated calmly, her parents inclined their heads slightly in acknowledgment. T’Lerra turned back to the other people and introduced them, “This is Suronak, son of Talvok, my father, and my mother, Purana, daughter of Mulanok.” T’Lerra then started introducing the ones that her parents had not met yet.

~~X~~

November, 2376

“Vulcan,” Duncan stated with apprehension. He looked down at the dust ball of a planet from the windows of the civilian transport. “Here we are.”

“Indeed,” T’Lerra answered deceptively calm, Duncan knew better. He had known her long enough now, that he could see the signs. A tiny muscle tightened here, the inflection in her eyes. T’Lerra was not calm. Then there was that something about her that he couldn’t identify, something otherworldly.

“So,” Duncan asked feeling his stomach make flip flops. “I’ll meet your parents.” He wondered why he hadn’t gotten used to this yet, then again, these were the first Vulcan parents he’d meet to basically ask for their daughter’s hand in marriage.

“My parents are . . . difficult,” T’Lerra answered with a twitch of a muscle in her left cheek.

“Difficult, how so?” Duncan answered, he was sure he could handle a few parents. He was eight hundred years old. Didn’t make the apprehension go away any faster though, but then that was fine with Duncan, in fact he welcomed it, when he was apprehensive he usually did his best work.

T’Lerra thought over her answer for a moment and then said, “They may not entirely agree with my decision . . . they may not even respect it. My father has always seemed . . . fearful of non-Vulcans.”

“He’s a bigot,” Duncan clarified.

T’Lerra stayed silent for a moment before she turned to him and answered, “A very mild form of . . . sadly, yes.”

Duncan looked into T’Lerra’s eyes, and he questioned her, “Did they not give the choice of mate to you?”

“They did,” T’Lerra replied with a calm tone. “However, that does not automatically mean that they agree with my choice, or even respect it. My parents disagreed with my choice to go into Starfleet, it took three years before my efforts to rekindle contact were answered by my mother, another two before my father and I returned to some form of formal repertoire.”

“That’s . . .” Duncan made a face. “Harsh.”

“Indeed.”

*****

Some time later, T’Lerra and Duncan stepped into the house of her parents and of her childhood. The heat was oppressive. They hadn’t been on the surface for more than two hours, and Duncan was already sweating heavily. T’Lerra, he noticed, was sweating as well, but far less then him. The relatively cool interior of the house helped a little, but cool in Vulcan terms still meant thirty-six degrees Celsius. When Duncan and T’Lerra stepped into the spacious living room of the house, two people, a man and a woman, stood up from the couch and they looked at him and his fiancee. They had to be T’Lerra’s parents, and they were not sweating at all. Apparently T’Lerra’s body had adapted to the cooler climates on most other Federation worlds and kept in Starships. Either her body was still busy acclimating back to its native climate, or it would take a long, continuous stay before it could adapt. T’Lerra’s parents’ brows furrowed for a moment as they regarded T’Lerra. Oh, oh, apparently they did not like that their daughter’s body was not perfectly attuned to their home world anymore. Their eyes flickered to T’Lerra’s hair, apparently they had the same problem with T’Lerra’s slightly longer hair, and thus her recent choice to let it grow.

Duncan regarded T’Lerra from the corner of his eyes. Her face stayed completely impassive. He was proud of her for that, but he alone could read the inflection in her eyes. She was hurt, and apprehensive of what was to come. In a corner a boy, about ten, was playing with a complicated puzzle. He must be T’Lerra’s little brother. Some sounds came from elsewhere in the house: the help doing chores.

Then her parents regarded him. The mother’s eyebrow rose in curiosity, while the father’s eyebrows furrowed yet again, and his jaws clenched just barely noticeable for a moment. The father placed his arms behind his back and said, “T’Lerra, I believe you stated in your last message that you would introduce your chosen mate to us.” Translation: this barbaric Human cannot be the man you intend to mate, please tell me he’s just a friend, by all the gods of heaven and hell he cannot, must not be your mate, where is the proper Vulcan you will show us, Duncan thought.

“Duncan,” T’Lerra started neutrally. Duncan could see the pain on her face, she had apparently translated her father’s spoken words the same way. No hello, no greet, not even the traditional Vulcan one, T’Lerra’s father had pre-empted that possibility right away, before even his wife or daughter could initiate it. “This is Suronak, son of Talvok, my father, and Purana, daughter of Mulanok, my mother. Father, mother, this Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod . . . my chosen mate.”

Suronak’s jaw clenched noticeably before relaxing again. His gaze lifted up and over T’Lerra at the same time, so that he now looked at a spot on the wall behind her. He didn’t deign her worthy of eye contact. In Human terms, he was screaming and raging at her, calling her a stupid cow, who he never should have given the right to choose her own life, and that this was the biggest boneheaded choice she could ever make, she would be disowned, before he would have her brainwashed so she could be a proper daughter.

Duncan could easily read the pain of his fiancee, and decided not to make things worse by trying to comfort her. He lifted his hand in the traditional Vulcan greet and said, “Peace and long life.”

T’Lerra’s mother raised her hand in the same salute and completed the greet, “Live long and prosper.” Duncan couldn’t help but let a tiny smile adorn his face at the first part of the greeting.

“/Why/ have you chosen him?” T’Lerra’s father asked, not removing his gaze from the spot on the wall.

T’Lerra raised an eyebrow, as if to ask that it wasn’t obvious, “It was logical.”

“Illogical . . .” her father started, ready to lay down an argument.

“Husband,” T’Lerra’s mother interrupted him, making him involuntarily look down to his wife. “Please take our daughter to your study and talk to her privately. I wish to talk to Mr. MacLeod.”

“Duncan, please,” he said, and Purana inclined her head toward him. Then she lifted up her index and middle finger, and her husband placed his own against them for a moment. Then he walked off, and T’Lerra followed him.

“Please, sit,” Purana said, indicating a very Vulcan couch. Duncan sat down in it, and looked at he expectantly. Purana regarded Duncan’s state for short moment and than asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please,” Duncan asked, and waited as the woman called the help and ordered him to go get Duncan something to drink. Purana calmly waited until Duncan had big glass of refreshing, cold tea in front of him.

“The herbs the tea is drawn from are natural substance to improve a bodies ability to retain water,” Purana calmly explained, as Duncan took a big gulp. He swallowed it down and then nodded appreciatively, it was quite tasty. Purana asked calmly, “Why do you wish to marry my daughter?”

“When I saw her, I considered her very beautiful, I thought it logical to court her,” Duncan started to explain, looking calmly in the woman’s eyes. “When I got to know her better I fell in love with her, the natural and logical progression after that would be to marry her?” One of the woman’s eyebrows was raised, regarding him. Duncan, despite his age, felt like he was a little school boy being dissected by a teacher’s gaze. Slightly unnerved, he added, “I love her, am in love with her, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Purana nodded gently, and said, “We do not take love into the equation when we decide on a suitable mate.”

Duncan stayed calm as he answered, “We, and in particular I, do.”

Purana nodded silently, contemplating. “Do you know about . . .” Purana hesitated.

“The Pon Farr? Fully,” Duncan answered with command in his voice, and a little bit of irritation and anger. “I knew about it before I even started courting T’Lerra, and she has filled in the details by now, and yes, I still want to be with her.”

“I see,” Purana answered, eyebrow raised, “Tell me about yourself.”

*****

“Does he know?” Suronak asked harshly - for a Vulcan - from behind his desk. He stood ramrod straight. His study contained a neat, organized - logically of course - desk. Several shelves lined the stark white walls. Books lined most of them. Suronak was a geologist. If he and his friends and family were Human, they would say it was his passion. Logically, several models for earthquakes and volcanoes stood on a shelf here and there, as well as several awards and trophies. If one would ask, he would say he was not proud, he was Vulcan after all, but it would be illogical to hide one’s accomplishments. The floor was a dark gray, contrasting with the white walls and the light brown desk.

“He knows all about the Pon Farr, apart from the fact that I’ve been experiencing the symptoms in the past one and a half week,” T’Lerra answered calmly, standing with her hands clasped behind her back in front of his chest. She did not sit down in one of the chairs, knowing it would be met with more disapproval. “I found it prudent for my and his sake to focus on one issue at a time.”

It was almost impossible for a logical Vulcan to ever be able to soften one’s gaze, but Suronak had reached that state, even if he would deny it to others. Apparently the knowledge that his daughter was in the first grips of Pon Farr made him change his mind just a little about the visual sweat earlier. At the same time, contradictory, his eyes hardened. Again, he would never admit it, but deep down in his stomach a quick multitude of dark emotions coiled at being considered such a large issue that she needed to put the Pon Farr - arguably /the/ most important issue in Vulcan biology and culture - aside for herself and her fiance.

“Why would you choose him and not a Vulcan?” her father asked, impeccably calm, a little too impeccable, even for a Vulcan.

T’Lerra looked him straight in the eyes as she answered, “He initiated courtship. The Solok case of 2347 shows that Vulcans can rape under the influence of the Pon Farr. In addition, I would be incarcerated should I do that. I have no desire to harm anyone, nor do I wish to be imprisoned, therefor it was logical to accept his courtship to find out whether we were suitable mates, we are.”

“He is not Vulcan, he is Human,” Suronak stated without comprehension. “How can he be suitable? Apart from the genetic incompatibility, which requires extensive genetic engineering to overcome, that still is not without insignificant risk, there is the fact that he is emotional and you are logical. Then there are physical needs that are obviously different . . .”

“It has worked before,” T’Lerra pointed out, interrupting her father. “As for the physical needs, we tend to them. After an initial start with a few problems, mutual constructive criticism has allowed us to solve them effectively.”

There was a flicker of distaste going through Suronak’s body, one that he quickly denied himself. “I see,” he stated, looking into his daughter’s eyes. He turned around, turning his back to T’Lerra and continued his interrogation with the question, “How about your goals in life? Will he let you reach them? Or will he demand you place yourself into his service?”

“He will support me in my decisions,” T’Lerra simply answered. She did not mention that she had talked him into going back to the ambassadorial position, and that she would be part of his entourage. Of course, this would allow her to do what she had found a passion for: study the psychology of different sentient species, and through them that of her own. Something she had gotten fascinated with after trying to understand an eight-hundred-year-old man with countless years worth of experience locked inside of him, a man who could potentially live forever, a man she had come to love.

*****

“I have been a Federation Ambassador until just before the war. It no longer felt fulfilling to me, so I changed careers and became the captain of a cargo vessel,” Duncan explained about his recent life, staying calm, and not letting the woman’s penetrating gaze rattle him. “T’Lerra however has talked me into becoming an Ambassador again, after our wedding. She’s rather touched upon a few things that makes it interesting for me again, as well as for her.”

“Ambassador, interesting. Why do you think you are good for my daughter?” Purana asked with a raised eyebrow, her impression of Duncan had gone up a few notches.

Duncan hesitated for a moment, then decided he wasn’t going to give the woman the answer she would probably like to hear the most, meaning, ‘I’m intellectual, I’m smart and logical enough to keep up, and I will encourage her to reach her goals.’ He was going to answer it, the way he felt about it. If the woman couldn’t handle the fact that he felt about things, that he was Human, than so be it. T’Lerra preferred her parents approval, but she didn’t need it, and he wasn’t going to compromise who he and T’Lerra were, just to please this woman. “I love her, I’m /in/ love with her, and vice vers,” he answered confidently, looking Purana directly in the eye, letting all his eight hundred years talk for him, no longer allowing this child in comparison to rattle him. Purana seemed to react to the change in attitude with a quick flinch.

“We don’t consider love to be criteria for a good mate,” Purana stated, looking into Duncan’s eyes, and knowing that whatever bit of control she had in this conversation was gone.

“/I/ am /not/ Vulcan. /I/ am Human. /We/ do,” Duncan answered, piercing Purana’s eyes with his gaze.

She blinked for a moment, and then stood up. “Good, I see, we never should have doubted T’Lerra’s judgement,” she said looking at Duncan. She turned around and started toward her husband’s study.

Duncan was so surprised at the woman’s sudden turn around that he stayed silent for a moment. Then he got up, and asked, “What did I say to warrant this change?”

Purana turned back around, and regarding him, she answered, “A man who compromises his identity is no man at all, he’s a caricature.”

Before she could turn around, Duncan demanded, “Can you promise to keep a secret?”

Purana studied him for a moment and than answered, “I will give you my word.”

“I will most likely outlive both you and your daughter,” Duncan told her with apprehension. “I have a mutation, it occurs about once or twice in a million Humans. The ones who have this mutation have a stronger immune system, and their life span is extended to about ten thousand years. I am almost eight hundred Earth years old.”

“I do not see the logic in hiding this,” Parana answered with a raised eye brow. “There are species with more powerful immune systems, as well as longer life spans. El Aurians for example can live up to two and half thousand Earth years.”

Duncan gave a wry smile, “But neither have both. It seems that the more powerful the immune system, the shorter the life span, that the energy used up to keep up the immune system burns out the body quicker and thus one dies sooner. Our mutation somehow facilitates both,” Duncan pauzed for a moment, as Purana nodded thoughtfully. “In the past, both Humans and non-Humans who found out about it, have tried to identify, understand and harness the mutation. They failed, but the experiments performed on us to do so . . . were not nice, to use a euphemism.”

“Your secret is safe with us,” Purana answered, as she inclined her head lightly, before turning back around and heading toward her husband’s study.

*****

“I don’t understand it,” Suronak stated, he had mellowed out some. He had been incapable in denting T’Lerra’s logic. “To me it seems illogical.”

“You do not need to understand it. Only respect it,” T’Lerra answered calmly, more calmly than earlier. She was slowly starting to understand that she was gaining the upper hand in this discussion.

There was a knock on the door, and T’Lerra’s mother entered. “I approve,” she stated and turned around.

“Purana . . .” Suronak started.

Purana interrupted him, as she threw her gaze over her shoulder back at him, “/I/ approve. Her decision is logical.” Then she resumed her way back out the door.

Suronak raised an eyebrow and clasped his hands behind his back. Then he regarded his daughter and said, “It seems your mother has decided for the both of us.”

The corners of T’Lerra’s mouth barely moved, there was hardly even a quirk upward. Inside though, she had a giant satisfied smile, that for some reason she didn’t want to suppress just yet.

*****

Four days later T’Lerra and Duncan entered the specialized hall. The door was closed behind them by two Vulcan males in traditional uniforms. The hall was big enough to handle most events caused by two people, but small enough that it didn’t become too impersonal. Food would be delivered to them. The hall contained a bathroom, with shower and toilet, a table to eat at (among other things) and a wide spacious bed. The entire hall was decorated to ancient, traditional color styles, even if the hall it self was relatively new.

T’Lerra was sweating, an aroused glow over her body. Duncan was more composed, no Pon Farr after all, but was aroused himself as well. Seeing T’Lerra in such an out of control sexual state did wonders for his libido. “So,” he started falsely calm. “Pon Farr eh? Three days of sex, rest, sex, bathroom time, sex, some food and drink on occasion, and oh, yeah, sex. Could be fun.”

T’Lerra laughed out loud, and then like a predator she turned to him, making Duncan instantly erect. “Trust me,” she told him huskily. “It will be a lot more than fun.” Then she touched him, one hand on his face, the other in the small of his back. Heat burned through Duncan’s body, and he kissed her hungrily as she ripped his shirt off with the hand on his back. Unable to contain himself any longer, he tore her tight top apart and threw himself and her to the ground, where he started tearing at her pants and she did the same. Moments later he plunged deeply and insistently inside of her, not thinking of her at all, but judging from her almost brutal counter trust, and the hungry tightening of her vagina he was doing everything right.

Their minds connected while they started rutting like animals. Duncan’s mind plunged in hers, and he was surprised. He remembered the mind meld with Dana and he had expected something similar. He was completely wrong. For one thing, Dana’s mind had been calm, T’Lerra was a maelstrom of burning sexual desires and emotions. Second, Dana’s mind had been his equal, in comparison T’Lerra’s was confining, small, yet infinitely more interesting, love does that.

T’Lerra’s experience was the exact opposite, Duncan’s mind felt almost painfully cold to her Pon Farr superheated mind. And his mind was . . . terrifyingly large. She had been in mind melds before. As a child with grown ups, which had made her feel small being side by side with such well cultivated minds. Later as an adult she had melded on occasions, and she had always felt equal. Nothing though had prepared her for this experience: she felt like an insect, an insect in a giant cavernous maw that felt like it could tear her apart. But what a beautiful loving maw it was, she thought, as she felt his cock plunge in her own hungry wet maw down there. The physical and mental sensations started mingling together sending her into a place of sexual bliss and pleasure, even without orgasm, unparalleled during their normal sexual practices. The giant cavern seemed to come alive with memories of lovers, enemies, and friends. Of situations familiar to her, and others so alien they frightened her. She was certain that some if not most of the people she came across, in this giant, and seeming limitless mind, were not memories but actual physical (as much as that’s possible inside a mind) presences.

Finally she found Duncan, he smiled with satisfaction, sexually as their mental presences joined in the same sexual embrace as outside. As they kissed, the two entangled in a way only possible for the mind, and the bond that would only be severed by death came into existence. T’Lerra’s heat immediately spread over to Duncan’s, causing a powerful sphere of fire to erupt from them and quickly burning up both minds. Duncan’s mind and body were set ablaze with the Pon Farr as well.

“Oh, god, I’m going to come,” Duncan moaned out in the real world. The joining of their minds and resulting fire sending him over the edge. T’Lerra groaned out her approval as he thrust hard inside her and spilled his seed. She was nowhere near her first orgasm, but her legs tightened around him, urging him to spill his cum deep inside her. It seemed right to her as the sexual fire grew between them. Duncan fucked hard inside her as he orgasmed, poring spurt after spurt of cum inside of her milking pussy. To his surprise his erection did not disappear once he finished climaxing, and his desire to continue fucking this heavenly person into otherworldly pleasure only grew.

Not before three days were over, and both of them had spent every last bit of their sexual energy and juices into and onto each other did they emerge from the hall. So exhausted they would sleep for a whole day straight. Their telepathic bond forged like a katana, folded multiple times, in the heat of their passion and lust.

~~X~~

Chapter 8: Coupling

Amanda lay staring up at the ceiling of the room she’d been put in. From the other sides of the walls sounds of sex were keeping her awake. *They could have renovated this place and added sound proofing, but no,* Amanda thought darkly. It didn’t help that Methos in the bed to her left was snoring straight through it. “Methos,” Amanda whispered, turning over to look at the man in the other bed. “Methos, are you awake?” Amanda called out loud, but he stayed asleep. “Aargh! He’s doing this on purpose, I know it,” Amanda told the ceiling.

The moans and groans from the other couples were arousing as hell. Even though she had no idea what the owners of the house did for sex, nor could she figure it out from the sounds, and even if the sounds could just be their version of snoring, they were still arousing. What the hell was it about weddings that got couples so hot anyway? She could understand it from the couple getting married - although weren’t they supposed to wait until the wedding night? - but what was it with the rest? Did the men decide to fuck the women senseless to keep them from complaining about not being asked yet or something? Amanda rolled from left to right, trying to get to sleep. It didn’t help. She half-decided she might as well join in the fun. Her hand slowly moved toward her pleasure center, when she noticed something; she couldn’t hear Dana’s moans. In fact she hadn’t heard her at all this night. Amanda blinked, wondering about that. She wrestled a short battle with her conscience, before getting up and leaving the bedroom. She just had to find out.

She swiftly and quietly walked to Dana’s and Reginald’s - That was his name? Wasn’t it? - room. There was no telltale buzz from the Quickening, they were all already in range from each other, making Amanda’s undertaking a lot easier, and indeed possible. She looked at the door and contemplated how to do this. Smiling she checked out the old-fashioned lock: unlocked. As silently as possible Amanda opened the door to a small crack and peered inside. What she saw melted her heart, sent a wave of jealousy through her, and made her want to cry with the romanticism of it. The bed covers were partly pulled back, showing that both Dana and Reginald were naked. They were lying on their side, facing each other, kissing slowly and passionately, and their hands and arms rubbed around each other. They /were/ having sex - a better description would be making love - they were just taking their sweet time getting to the main event.

Suddenly an evil thought crossed Amanda’s mind. She couldn’t do it. How could she disrupt this picture of love? But the desire had already gripped her body. She thought it over another half a minute before the last remnants of resistence were removed from her mind. Amanda slipped through the door, a predatory gin adorning her face, but unseen in the near darkness. Tiptoeing like a cat on the prowl, she slowly glided to the bed. She slid in next to Dana, her bra and panty incased body touching the redhead’s before she could protest.

Dana’s eyes snapped open as she felt Amanda get in bed with them. Her presence was unmistakable and she wondered why she hadn’t known she was coming earlier. She guessed she was a little too engrossed in what she had been doing. She broke the kiss and Amanda’s body touched hers. Dana threw her ass back, pushing Amanda back, and with a yelp she dropped to the floor.

Reginald was surprised at Dana’s sudden breaking of their kiss, and was even more surprised when she heard another woman yelp before the thud announced her arrival to the floor. Dana turned around as Amanda’s head rose back above the bed. “What are you doing here, bitch?” Reginald heard Dana hiss at the other woman.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I walked around some. Your door was open a little, and I decided to see what you were doing. When I saw that, I got jealous and wanted to join in,” Amanda told Dana with a smile. Dana looked at Amanda incredulously. Part of her wanted to smack her around, another part saw the possibilities. Annoyed with herself that she would let her lust interfere with the making love, she was about to shove Amanda out the door, when Amanda added, “Would you deprive /Reginald/ here of a threesome?” Amanda said ‘Reginald’ like she was a British royal, giving him in that also a royal tint to him.

Reginald was almost certain that Dana would kick Amanda, if he recalled correctly, out the window, but got the surprise of his life. Dana turned around and looked at Reginald, her eyebrows raised in contemplation. “Well?” Dana asked him with sweet, but lustful smile, “Do you want a threesome?” Reginald’s voice choked in his throat with shock. His eyes were wide with surprise and possibility. He watched as Amanda crawled back onto the bed and quickly went over Dana. She knelt down in the middle of the two of them and then sensually placed her left hand on Dana’s right thigh. She erotically stroked her hand up and down, but more up than down, moving the hand surreptitiously up toward a not-too-difficult-to-guess goal. The expert stroking send shivers down Dana’s body. Reginald watched enraptured at Amanda’s hand. Its possibilities sparked all kinds of interesting images in his imagination. Amanda’s right hand started doing the same on his thigh, and he too shivered with arousal. Dana told him huskily, “She’s good, Reg. I know from first hand experience . . . Ok, not from the guy perspective, so don’t take my word on it.”

Dana shimmied closer to him, looking him directly in the eyes, and the stimulation started to overload Barclay. Part of him thought about saying ‘no’, resuming the pleasurable one on one action of before. A small voice in the back of his mind screamed out, *Are you nuts?* He watched as Amanda’s hand reached just outside Dana’s pleasure center, while her other hand reached the same place on him. Reginald being Reginald completely lost the capacity for speech but he managed to nod in disbelief, most of him unable to believe this was really happening.

Amanda saw his nod, and knew she had succeeded in seducing them. Her left hand shot out and her index and middle finger shot toward Dana’s clitoris. She gave it a few quick strokes that made Dana gasp, then she dipped down and found Dana’s moist vagina. Grinning at Dana’s pleasure-filled face, Amanda scooted forward. She pushed Reg on his back and her right, hand gripped his cock and started stroking it. Dana moved closer to Reg, allowing Amanda to do the same without letting up on stimulation of Dana’s vagina, which was rapidly growing even more wet than it already was. Close enough now, Amanda bent forward. She rapidly closed her lips around Reginald’s erection, and started sucking gently.

“Oh, god,” Reg gasped out, just before Dana’s lips covered his, the two sharing a heated kiss. Dana grinned then, and crawled to the back of Amanda. Looking over at the disbelieving face of Barclay, she dipped down and started licking and stroking Amanda’s vagina. The result was a more energetic sucking from the brunette as she wiggled to get more of Dana’s tongue inside of her. Amanda moaned as Dana used the tip of her tongue to tease Amanda’s clit, just enough friction to make the presence known, not enough to get any real satisfaction from it.

After a minute of this, Amanda took her mouth off of Reginald’s cock, understanding what Dana was doing. “Bitch,” she hissed huskily at the redhead, and moved herself up and over Reg’s rod. Slowly she lowered herself down upon him, impaling herself on his organ, and tightening her cunt around it. Once there, she rose again, then quickly came back down, after which she undulated her groin forward and back again, slowly increasing speed. She broke the back and forth movements with up and down ones from time to time, thus starting to ride the two to an orgasm.

Meanwhile Dana had crawled back to Reg’s face and started a new, passionate, French kiss. She broke it after several seconds and smiled at the face filled with sexual pleasure and wonder. “And? Is she good?”

“Oh, yeas,” Reg breathed out, sighing satisfactorily.

Dana’s right index finger moved teasingly over his chest as she asked quietly, smiling, “Better than me?”

He looked at her, and grinning he whispered, “No way in hell.”

Dana grinned naughtily at him, and said, “In that case, you deserve a reward.” Dana sat up and then slung her left leg over his face and slowly lowered her vagina down to his mouth. Reg grinned before diving in and licking up the nectar of the gods from her folds. Dana moaned and then grabbed Amanda’s breasts in front of her and started massaging them. Amanda smiled, and returned the favor, before the two joined in deep kiss.

*****

Björn thrust forward, into the heavenly, moist cavity that was Ellen’s vagina. She moaned in appreciation as he sped up, his thrusts becoming more rapid and powerful. The pounding that her inner walls got send shivers of pleasure up to her spine. Björn wasn’t often this brutal, and she was determined to enjoy every moment of it, wondering what brought it on, and how to bring it out more often.

Their hands and arms were wrapped around each other, stroking and foundling their bodies. Her legs were wrapped around his waste, and hooked together on his ass. As he drove himself into her, he felt like his body melted into her. His chest was pressed to her breasts. Slickened by sweat their chests slid against each other, sending pleasant sensations of friction into their minds.

He groaned as he increased speed. He was getting closer to his climax and Ellen did everything to get him there. Her own orgasm was rapidly coming nearer and she didn’t want him to miss it. She moaned her pleasure out in rhythmic groans and gasps.

“Oh, god,” he whispered, knowing it didn’t take long anymore.

“Yes,” Ellen answered with a smile as she thrust her pelvis up to meet his. “Oh, wow, Björn, I’m . . . ah, oh . . . going to . . . mmmh.”

“Me too . . . me too,” he said, increasing speed for one final sprint to the finish line. With powerful thrusts they raced toward their highest point.

“I love you!” Ellen gasped out, as her pussy contracted violently around his cock, her vaginal juices overflowing out onto her skin. Björn’s cock twitched, and then with a loud groan he discharged his seed into her spasming cunt. For several seconds they stayed unmoving, apart from her vagina, and his penis, both twitching and fluttering as they burned through their mutual climax. Then Björn collapsed, and landed on top of her.

They lay together contented, slowly catching their breaths and enjoying their after glow. Björn was the first too speak, he lifted his head, looked at her and grinning said, “That was a cheap one.”

“Huh?” Ellen muttered, looking up into his eyes.

Björn smiled, eyebrows raised questioningly, “‘I love you’? During orgasm?” Ellen smiled a little sheepishly. Björn added, “I mean, if you told me that while I’m leaving the house to go out with a couple of friends and get blazingly drunk that would mean something. But during orgasm? That’s like saying, ‘You’re a great cook,’ while we’re having take out.”

Ellen laughed at that. “You’ve got a point,” she replied, smiling brilliantly. “But you were oh so nicely raw during sex today, hmm . . . can’t you do that more often?”

Björn raised his eyebrows and asked, sarcastically, “How about all the time?”

Ellen looked up at with an annoyed face. “There is such a thing as overdoing it. But . . . Ah, I feel like I’m the only one whoever just wants to have some rough fucking, and I don’t think it’s half as fun me riding you, than you taking it to me, you know?”

“You haven’t really said anything about this before,” Björn declared with a confused look.

Ellen shrugged. “I’m Human, on occasion I’d just like to be taken, feel like I’m irresistible, that you just have to fuck me hard and fast . . . you know?”

Björn looked at her, uncertain. “I prefer slow, loving, passionate, although I love when you go at me,” he answered her, somewhat apprehensive at the topic.

“I know, and I like slow that to . . .” Ellen started to explain, figuring out how to put this. “It’s why I haven’t really addressed it until now, with the other things in our lives. Away from everything else, this vacation kind of, it . . . well, time, opportunity. You’re a fantastic lover, and I feel lucky to have you with me . . . but, rough more often is something I’d like very much. You remember when I told you about me?”

“You liked that?” Björn asked a little shocked. He didn’t let her answer, rambling on, “I felt ashamed of what I’d done. I felt like I abused you?”

Ellen smiled brightly at him, calming his nerves down some. She stroked is face as she answered him, “Sweety, I didn’t think of that as abusive, and if it was, than abuse away. I enjoyed that immensely, I want that more often.”

~~X~~

January, 2374

City of the Atlantis Project

Ellen sat on her bed, and patted left from her. To her right lay a towel. Björn looked confused, noticing Ellen’s grave expression and told her, as he went to sit next to her, “Ok, your scaring me, Ellen. You’re not dumping me are you. Please tell me you’re not dumping me.”

Ellen smiled a small smile and told him, “I’m not dumping you.” The bedroom was blueish white hued, and contained a bed for two, and three closets. A window outside showed the artificially lit underwater city, that was being extended to become an entire continent. The dome was so colored, that the light shining outward from inside, made the water look blue, instead of pitch black. The dome also made to simulate flowing water, so it was as if one was looking at the surface of the water, from just under it. This, so that people didn’t get the idea they were living inside of a solid box, and causing all kinds of psychological problems. In the beginning of the project, when they hadn’t anticipated it, the completely alien environment of utter blackness had caused fatigue, weariness and other problems even in non-Humans and those who loved the idea of being inside a city on the bottom of the ocean. Apparently the problem was something genetically ingrained inside people used to living on the surface of a planet, so a more planet-side environment had been decided to simulate.

“Good,” he said, sitting down. “So what’s up that has you so grave?”

Ellen smiled weakly at him and replied, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Björn.” Björn looked at her with pained eyes. Ellen’s heart almost broke, but she steeled herself, she had to get through this. “I am 221 years old. I’ll be 222 on October 3.” Björn looked at her stunned. Slowly she got the knife from between the folds of the towel. She held out her left hand and cut it. As Björn with his mouth ajar, watched her cut hand, Ellen wiped the knife clean on the towel and grabbed the towel. Then she wiped away the little blood that had formed on the palm of her hand and revealed an unmarred palm. Björn looked up at her eyes wide in shock and mixed emotions. “My father was an Immortal, my mother is an Immortal, I was born an Immortal as well. Uncle Duncan will be 800 in ‘92, my mother is just over 400, my father was a few decades older than me,” Ellen explained, her voice was thick with emotion, almost ready to crack. “I can’t die by anything short of decapitation,” she added with a trembling voice.

Ellen did not like the look in his eyes, filled with warring emotions. It was always a gamble telling someone, always hoping they would understand both the Immortality as well as the secrets and dishonesty. If only one of the two wasn’t understood, it would mean the end of the relationship, and in most cases your life. If the person showed any inclination to do something drastic, it meant faking your death and moving far, far away.

“W-why haven’t you . . .” Björn started to ask, the question stuck in his throat, betrayal slowly forming in his.

“I-I’m sorry. I couldn’t. Too many people have experimented on us, burned us at stakes, and otherwise . . . I had to be as sure as I could get, before telling,” Ellen whispered with pleading eyes. He looked into hers, love spilled over from both of them, but the betrayal in his eyes stayed.

“I’ve . . . I’ve got to figure this out,” Björn said, and stormed out of the bedroom and out of the apartment.

Ellen looked at the still opened bedroom door. She collapsed backward on the bed, and started crying.

*****

Three hours later, Ellen’s eyes and cheeks were still a little puffy. She was busy packing, already coming to the decision this life was over. She was thinking over how best to fake her death, perhaps calling her mother or uncle for some help, when the door bell rang. For a moment she considered not opening. She sighed and left her bedroom, closing the door behind her so they couldn’t see her packing.

She walked over to the door, composed herself and opened it. She was surprised when she saw Björn standing there. She could have checked without using her eyes, but she hadn’t felt like it. He looked intense, something shimmered in his eyes, anger, something primal.

“Ellen,” he whispered intensely. He wasn’t drunk on alcohol, he was too collected for that. But he did seem drunk on emotions. Anger, and betrayal, mixed in with a lot of others that she couldn’t identify.

“Björn,” she answered him. There was something . . . primitive to him. This sent shivers down her spine, a little fear, and the rest arousal. There were only two thinks he could have come back here for. One, he was going to try to harm her somehow. That was what feared her, and why she only had a little of it; she was Immortal, practically inharmable. Two, she had jumped to conclusions too quickly, and he came back to tell he wasn’t going anywhere, literally and figuratively.

“Ellen,” he stated, this time with normal strength and stepped inside her apartment. Ellen backed up slightly to let him in. “I am not pleased with the lies and secrets,” he said, looking her deeply into her eyes. Ellen swallowed, was about to answer, but he waved her off and continued. “I also know that I love you, and that you love me. I’ve been spending the last hours trying to convince myself otherwise. And although I don’t fully understand why you would lie about what you really are, and completely not understand why you would do so to me, I have found out something else.”

“Which is?” Ellen asked apprehensively.

He looked at her, breathing slowly more heavily. Suddenly his right arm snaked around her waist and pulled her roughly to him. Instinctively she placed her hands in front of her chest and they landed against his, and she looked up in his emotionally drunken eyes. More shivers ran up her spine, and she felt herself grow aroused. “I can forgive you . . . you’re forgiven,” he told her hoarsely, then he added in a growl. “And God, do I want you.” He pulled harder on her, and her arms slid around him, and he kissed her deeply. She returned it instantly and they shared a passionate French kiss.

When they broke up, she told him breathlessly, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he returned throatily, starting to unbutton his pants and pushing her forward. She let him push her to where he wanted her, looking up at him drunken with lust. She found her ass bumping against the armrest of her couch. “Turn around,” he ordered. With one hand he pulled down his futuristic pants - which by definition weren’t all that futuristic, pants are pants - with the other he pushed forward, bending her over the arm rest. He reached around her, unbuttoned her trousers, and yanked them open. The zipper zipped downward and then ripped at the power behind the yank. With one motion of his left hand, he yanked down both her trousers and her panties.

“Oh, god,” she moaned out, arousal flaming through her entire body. She held herself in place with her hands, and looked back, looking in his lust-filled face. She shivered with anticipation, just before he rammed his cock inside her dripping pussy mercilessly. She groaned and drove herself back into him, intensifying the stroke, and clamping her inner walls around him.

He fucked her hard and brutally, working off some of his anger. He caressed her breasts from behind her as he continued his powerful thrusting. Barely four minutes later they both climaxed together. He collapsed on top of her and breathing heavily, they whispered sweet words to each other.

~~X~~

The two looked into each other’s eyes, sharing the memory. “You really liked that?” he asked astounded. From what he had been taught, he should be nice and sweet and romantic during sex. Definitely not primitive fucking.

She nodded, smiled and then kissed him deeply, conveying all her emotions about him, and sex with a passionate, slobbering, primitively raw kiss that left him breathless. Once the kiss was broken he grinned at her, they simply stayed side by side looking into each others eyes, breathing together.

*****

Duncan and T’Lerra kissed deeply, both having a big smile on their faces. “That was . . .” Duncan told her with a wide grin. “Fantastic.”

“Mmm,” T’Lerra purred, kissing Duncan’s chest. “I do believe we are not done yet.” She continued her fluttering kisses down to his navel.

 “I think I need some rest first, Tel,” Duncan told her with a soft voice, happily running his fingers through her long hair.

T’Lerra purred with a grin, her hands finding his still flaccid member. “Let us test that theory,” T’Lerra murmured before engulfing his dick into her warm mouth.

“Oh, god,” Duncan whispered, as he remembered T’Lerra’s first foray into oral pleasuring.

~~X~~

June 15, 2375

Federation Space

“Captain MacLeod,” the grave voice of the Tellarite Captain Omesh greeted to the vision on the view screen.

“Captain Omesh,” MacLeod greeted back from his own bridge. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face, despite the fact that they were in a war. He was going to visit T’Lerra again. Their correspondence was a deeply rewarding one. One that he looked forward to every day. And this, with the war raging around them, was one of the rare occasions he could meet with her face to face. The Dominion War was in a lull. Both sides mostly concerned with holding their lines and fortifying their positions.“Requesting permission to beam aboard,” MacLeod stated formally.

“Permission granted, Captain MacLeod,” Omesh answered him, smiling back. MacLeod’s smile was infectious.

*****

MacLeod pushed the chime to the guest quarters. T’Leraa’s actual quarters weren’t suitable for company; for one thing she had a roommate. The door slid aside and revealed the Vulcan, wearing a knee-length satin dress, with a high split up her left leg, and cut low enough to reveal quite a bit of cleavage. MacLeod blinked, very surprised. He was used to T’Lerra wearing her uniform, or a very conservative - usually Vulcan - outfit. “Hello, come in, Duncan,” T’Lerra greeted him.

Duncan entered the room, and looked around it for a moment. The quarters were furnished in the standard Starfleet way, somehow Spartan yet luxuriously. It had a purple color scheme. A small table was close by, chairs and a couch surrounding it. To the left lay an entrance to the bathroom, and to the right was the bedroom. Duncan greeted her, “Hello, T’Lerra. It’s a delight to see you again.” T’Lerra nodded her head in acceptance. Duncan handed over the gift he bought for her.

She unwrapped it and looked at the thick book. She read the title out loud, “‘The History of Andoria - Climatology, Geology, Evolution and Sociology of an Ice World’.” She raised an eyebrow and regarded Duncan.

Duncan smiled at her and explained, “Somehow I doubted you’d like jewelry. And you seemed quite fascinated with the Andorian family living down the hall last time.”

“One of them has perished, I have seen how the remaining members draw strength from one an another. A core familial unit of four seems to have its advantages,” T’Lerra answered him calmly.

“I’m sorry,” Duncan told her, his smile faltering.

T’Lerra raised an eyebrow at him, and replied, “The book sounds fascinating. When I have time, I will make certain to read it.” She carefully placed the book on the table, bending through her knees to get low enough and stood back up.

Duncan smiled at the compliment. Slowly he had gotten to know T’Lerra’s reactions, and he was certain he had seen a flicker of gratitude and pleasure shoot through her eyes when she had read the title. “Do you have any plans for tonight?” Duncan asked gently, looking into the dark pools that were T’Lerra’s eyes. There was something in there that he hadn’t seen before.

“Yes,” T’Lerra answered and moved toward him, closer and closer. Duncan took an uncertain step back, knowing how Vulcans don’t like to be touched. He expressed a sound of confusion, but T’Lerra was too fast to avoid. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she pressed her body up against him. She inclined her head, presenting her lips perfect for kissing. Duncan knew Vulcans don’t like to be touched, but her sent, and her closeness and the inviting lips were just too much. He wrapped his arms around her, then dipped his head forward and kissed T’Lerra deeply. The kiss increased with their passion and soon tongues touched. T’Lerra gently pushed forward and Duncan let himself be walked backward. As they walked toward the bedroom, kissing like that, T’Lerra’s right hand slid down his left arm, untangling it from the small of her back. T’Lerra let her hand glide further, until her index and middle finger were touching his in the traditional Vulcan show of affection. Unlike a Vulcan, Duncan placed his thumb on the top of her fingers and gently rubbed it over her fingers. Both the traditional touch as the addition sent erotic jolts through the both of them.

Once they reached the bedroom, T’Lerra broke the kiss, but they stayed embraced, and Duncan continued to gently stroke her two fingers with his thumb. T’Lerra decided to do the same thing to his. “I-I didn’t think . . .” Duncan started throatily but not quite knowing what to say. The only thing he could do was look into T’Lerra’s cool, yet smoldering eyes.

“Since our relationship was growing,” T’Lerra started to explain calmly, even though the smouldering in her eyes didn’t disappear. “I decided I needed to learn a Human’s needs and desires. I found out that you require frequent touching and kissing. Although Vulcan couples do that as well, they do it on rare occasions. I must admit, I am surprise at the power of my own reaction to it.”

“You do seem less composed,” Duncan answered, taking in the beauty in his arms in every moment his eyes were upon her.

“If it were not the truth, and you any other man, I would consider that an insult,” T’Lerra replied her eyes locked with his. She decided to explain further. “I have also found, that Human males think about sex roughly once every 5.82 minutes, and Human females once every 8.02 minutes. From mating habits, I have determined that Humans in a relationship require sex at least once every three months when the couple lives in close proximity of each other, and prefer a much higher frequency. Other sources corroborate this.”

“T’Lerra, I . . .” Duncan tried to interrupt, afraid of where this could lead.

“Please, let me finish,” T’Lerra cut him off. Duncan nodded looking in her eyes. She calmly continued, “I felt that I was not yet ready for intercourse, but I found several other sex practices that do not involve the need for it. Oral stimulation for example. The art of oral stimulation of the male reproductive organ is called a ‘blowjob’. The descriptions are . . . alluring. You being a Human male, I thought it prudent to try.” T’Lerra then moved out of the embrace and added, “Duncan, please remove your pants and underwear and sit on the bed.”

Duncan looked stunned at the Vulcan woman in front of him. For all is eight-hundred year experience he was flabbergasted. He looked at his girlfriend as she gently pushed him toward the bed when he didn’t immediately comply. “T’Lerra, you do not have to do this. I am perfectly able to eh . . . satisfy my needs.”

She nodded at him, replying, “Masturbation, I know. But this is still something that I feel I must do.”

“Why?” Duncan asked uncertain, partly feeling like he shouldn’t let her do this, his upbringing coming into play. The other part of him was more primitive, running on instincts, and an uncomfortable bulge was already forming in his pants. That part of him, did not let him put up any real fight. He bumped against the bed and sat down.

T’Lerra answered him, “Because it is logical.” Duncan wouldn’t mind a blowjob, but he wanted her to want to do it, not do it because she thought it was a requirement because some weird logic inside her mind. She looked in his eyes, and all resistence melted away. Moments later she unbuttoned his pants, pulled down the zipper and then pulled his pants down. She knelt down between his legs and gently touching his erect cock, she looked up at him. Feeling guilty he leaned back on his hands, and watched as she gently stroked up and down his erection. “If you have any suggestions on improvement, do not hesitate to vocalize them.”

Duncan nodded and watched with wide eyes as his girlfriend dipped her head down and took his member in her mouth. She closed her lips around the head and sucked gently, and started making circles with her tongue. Slowly she took him deeper in her mouth. “Oh, wow,” Duncan muttered as he felt her stimulating his cock. She was just a little too mechanical. Duncan let her continue, enjoying the sensations, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Than he mentally kicked himself; she was a Vulcan. “T’ll, mmmh, you are good, sweety,” he started, moaning out load. “Try to be less mechanical, give up your control, let your instincts guide you.”

T’Lerra stalled for a moment, taking in his criticism, then continued. At first there was hardly a change, but as she continued she became more animated. Her tongue fluttered around his shaft of blood-engorged meat, and wet lips sucked more strongly, as she hobbed her head up and down. She was too inexperienced to start deep throating Duncan with this first blow job, but half way down, was more than good enough. The rest of his erection she stimulated with her hands. Whenever she felt his member twitch, or felt him shove his pelvis upward, she tried to repeat the same actions, slowly teaching herself just what Duncan did and did not like.

“Oh, god, oh, my,” Duncan moaned out, leaning further and further back, while he thought, *How in blazes did this happen? Vulcans are supposed to be reserved. I guess not everything they say about them is correct. I’m so lucky.* Her sucking became more energetic, her tongue swirled with desire around his cock. There was no way for T’Lerra to fight her own arousal, slowly her nipples hardened, and her vagina moistened. Involuntarily she felt herself move her pelvis back and forth, rubbing against her panty for much wanted stimulation. MacLeod could no longer support himself and he fell back on the bed. Lying there, moaning out at the blissful torture his member was forced to go through. Shudders ran through his body as she moved her mouth up and suckled strongly on only the head of his erection. He groaned out, thrust upward once, and then he came. Gasping out his pleasure, moaning out T’Lerra’s name, he started pumping squirt after squirt of his sperm into her mouth. He continued for several seconds before finally stopping, and looking up at the ceiling with a satisfied daze.

T’Lerra let him shoot all his cum in her mouth, not once stopping her suckling. Once he stopped and her mouth was filled to the brim, she slowly moved upward, sucking harder, and licking up whatever was left on his cock. Thus, she made sure she didn’t miss a drop, and he was clean once again.

Slowly Duncan regained his composure and sat up, looking at his now standing girlfriend, her hands clasped behind her back. What was she doing? Suddenly he realized what the movements of her mouth were. She was swishing his cum around in her mouth! His eyes widened in shock, looking at T’Lerra tasting his semen. She stopped her swishing motions and then calmly swallowed it down. She raised an eyebrow and said, “Fascinating texture.”

“You swallowed it,” Duncan said, enraptured by her appearance, knowing she swallowed down his cum.

“It seemed the appropriate thing to do,” T’Lerra told him calmly, a raised eyebrow at Duncan’s demeanor. “You seem surprised.”

“Not many women I know swallow . . . it,” Duncan said her, his heart beating faster in his chest. She was so beautiful, and how the hell did she manage to look so calm, innocent, ragingly sexy and guilty as sin all at once. T’Lerra just looked at him, and Duncan noticed something, a certain something in her eyes. He stood up, took a step forward and embraced his girlfriend. “You enjoyed that, wanted that, and liked that, didn’t you? ‘It is logical’ is only part of why you did it.”

“I neither like nor dislike anything,” T’Lerra answered him calmly. “The same applies to enjoying.”

“Really?” Duncan asked in a superior voice. Slowly his hands moved to her belly and then moved upward, stopping just beneath her breasts. T’Lerra made no move to stop him. “When a Vulcan woman gets aroused, do her nipples harden?” She nodded, deceptively calm, but he knew better. There was something about her, she was nervous. He closed his hands gently around her breasts, their eyes locked. He moved his hands upward and found her nipples. Through the thin fabric of her dress, he had already seen they were hard, but touching them would make it conclusive and he wanted to touch her breasts. He gently squeezed the globes in his hands. His thumbs gently rubbed her nipples. T’Lerra closed her eyes, and breathed in a quick breath through her mouth. It was more than an inhale, less than a gasp. He continued to massage her breasts gently. After a few seconds she opened her eyes again and looked up. Her hands still hadn’t unclasped.

Duncan lowered his head and kissed her intensely on the lips. He broke the kiss then, and whispered to her. “Let me return the favor.” She nodded breathlessly. He turned them around and slowly pushed her down upon the bed. He kissed her on the lips again, then slowly started a trail of kisses down her chin, neck and down to her breasts.

T’Lerra felt goose bumps appear on her flesh, and electrifying sensations run through her nerves. She placed her hands on the bed next to her as Duncan slowly pushed the fabric of her dress aside. He caressed her naked breasts, and kissed, licked and nibbled all over them. The Vulcan moaned at his ministrations, her body rapidly heating up. Duncan grinned at that, covered up her breasts again, and continued further down toward the end goal.

When Duncan reached the right height, he pulled her dress upward until her dark blue panties became visible. It was a g-string, and its gusset was wet with T’Lerra’s sexual juices. MacLeod grinned and gave the wet spot a lick, sending a vibration through her crotch and legs. Gently he moved his fingers downward across her knickers, making her push her groin upward as she arched her back backward and gasped. With a smile directed at T’Lerra’s face, Duncan pulled the panties slowly down her legs, and finally threw them lightly aside. He looked down then, and examined her pussy. A small triangle of hair, cut short stood above her further bald labia; hygienic, logically. Her labia could only be described as fleshy but tight. They were filled with blood and her juices glistened between them.

Duncan smiled for a moment, than dipped down and licked the juices from between her vaginal lips. T’Lerra gasped at the sensation. He made the stimulation slowly grow in intensity with every lick. After a minute of this, he slowly opened her folds and examined the prize further. There were a few distinct difference between a Human’s and a Vulcan’s vagina, and he was glad he had studied Vulcan physiology some time ago, before today. One difference was that a Vulcan’s clitoris somewhere in the past had evolved to split apart, forming two nubs, and two clitorises at the top, of the inner lips. Duncan decided he would leave them alone for the time being, working her up first. Hopefully that was a good idea, for annoyingly there weren’t any real texts about how best to please a Vulcan, a consequence of their culture. Perhaps when he had learned, he should write a book about it? In any case, he would have to do this on the fly. He slid his tongue inside her still virginal hole, and gently started moving it around, licking and thrusting, bringing more moans from T’Lerra, and eliciting her cunt to produce more fuck juice. She started to slowly move her pelvis up and down, as he flicked her tongue around in ever changing patterns, and used his fingers to rub up and down her lips.

During her research T’Lerra had found herself getting aroused on occasion as well, but had always calmly suppressed it. Vulcans as a rule did not masturbate; they were too cool and logical by the time of their puberty. They had no need for knowledge of their sexuality apart from the technicalities involving the Pon Farr - once in its grip the Vulcans would do what was needed. And even knowledge about the Pon Farr was limited because of their culture. Their logic after all was paramount, and sexuality and procreation were the exact opposite of logic. The Pon Farr had developed as the Vulcan race got ever more logical, as an answer to that very logic. One does not conquer a drive to mate and procreate developed over billions of years with a little logic. Those more ancient natural instincts to mate and procreate though, were not gone, they were very much still present. Even Vulcan couples often had sex outside of the Pon Farr once the first Pon Farr had come and gone and violently awakened those instincts inside of them. But that was sex to mate: intercourse. Only other Vulcans, who like T’Lerra, mated with non-Vulcans, and logically decided there was a need to examine their partners’ sexuality would ever have them awakened before the Pon Farr, or perform non-intercourse sex acts.

As such, this was the first time that T’Lerra experienced the pleasure that could be conjured up through her vagina, and the arousal flowing from it mastering her. Her pelvis bucked and rotated of its own accord, as she moaned out her desire. She was lying back on the bed and her hands were tightened around the coverings, holding on for dear life. Her cunt fluttered and clamped down on Duncan’s tongue, then unclasped and tightened again. Duncan increased his pace, and moved his thumb dangerously close to her clitorises. Her need to be touched there grew and she yelled out profanities and pleas in her own language that Duncan couldn’t understand. He made a mental note to learn the language quickly. It made his ministrations an exquisite torture for the Vulcan, since he was pleasuring her but not able to do exactly as she wanted and send her over her desired edge.

To Duncan she tasted heavenly, he couldn’t get enough of her juices, his fingers were slick with it. Deciding she probably was ready, he placed his slick index fingers lightly on either clit, and made a circular motion. T’Lerra’s tortured body blasted instantly into her first ever orgasm, through which Duncan slowly increased pressure on her clits, until he felt them retract. Her cunt contracted violently, and flooded with her juices. She screamed out her release, as her juices pored into Duncan’s mouth who greedily gulped them down. Her orgasm lasted twenty seconds before the muscles in her legs, groin and belly finally stopped contracting and she sank back to the bed, completely satisfied.

T’Lerra rapidly wound down from her peek. Her training took over and she automatically calmed her heated emotions and body down, gaining control over her breath. “Incredible,” she whispered, looking dazed up at the ceiling, just like Duncan had earlier.

Duncan smiled, licking his lips clean, and then commented, “And they say Vulcans have no emotions.”

T’Lerra slowly sat up, and looked at him. “If you want to use my present state as proof of - admittedly - very much existing emotions, you’d be wrong. My sexual arousal, as well as my sexual peek are no emotions,” T’Lerra told him calmly, but still riding the high of her first orgasm she was incapable of banishing the twinkle in her eyes, and the smile on her lips. “They are autonomous reactions of my body to certain physical stimulations.”

“Right,” Duncan answered her, smiling. “You just keep telling yourself that.” Then he kissed her fiercely, and she hungrily kissed back.

~~X~~

Chapter 9: Revelations

Early next morning, the whole group was helping out in the garden. The tables were placed, chairs as well. They had just put table cloth over them. Now they were setting the plates and utensils. Dana and Reg were doing one table, each on one side. They stayed opposite each other as they placed the plates down. They’re eyes stayed locked on each others’ as much as they could.

A table ahead, Methos placed down plates. Amanda was following along one seat behind him, placing down utensils. “I don’t know why they are all goo-goo eyes. I’m as much responsible for the fantastic sex as they were,” she commented with a little irritation.

Methos shook his had and told, “What did you expect? You have a threesome with them and suddenly they break up, or you’re now part of their relationship?”

“Well, no, but the least they can do is give me a complimentary look,” Amanda whined as she placed a knife down on the table.

Methos shook his head and told her, “You need therapy, and lots of it.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. I-have-no-conscious,” Amanda bit at him, and they continued with their bickering.

Ellen and Björn were smiling happily at each other, as they worked on their task at another table. Björn murmured softly at her, “Would you like me to just kiss you, or just bend you over the table and take you right here in plain view of the others?”

Ellen giggled, and told him with a brilliant smile, “I think you’re letting this rough thing go a little to your head. Be patient, wait till the guests have left, tonight.” He smiled back as they stole a quick kiss.

The Immortals in the group looked up startled as felt the buzz, shiver through their minds. A moment later a woman, all in black, stepped through the main entrance of the garden and slowly walked to the middle, and turned around to face Duncan and T’Lerra. The couple was standing near the podium where the band would come to play, checking the wiring, making sure the energy supply was secure. “Duncan,” the woman called. Her eyes blazed with anger. The rest of her face was a forced calm. Her right cheekbone twitched with the effort to contain herself, for now.

Dana recognized her immediately, and she quickly walked over placing herself in between the woman and the couple. Duncan recognized her as well, and his face fell. Through their link T’Lerra also knew just who she was.

The woman took several strides forward, when Dana stopped her with a sentence. “So, you’re still alive huh? How’ve you been, Kate?”

~~X~~

MacLeod had insisted upon burying Connor on his own, so Dana had waited in Glenfinnan. Several weeks later, back in London Duncan had returned to their training residence with a woman. The moment the brunette saw Dana, she said with narrowed eyes, “Who the hell is she?”

“Kate, this is Dana Scully, she’s a student of mine,” Duncan said with a big grin. “Dana, this is Kate, my . . . lover.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Dana greeted her, the two exchanging a handshake.

Over the next three weeks the relationship between the two women went from bad too worse, through no fault of Dana. Bad, biting and jealous comments were flung at Dana by Kate, when Duncan wasn’t around.

“He’s mine, why don’t you just leave?” Kate once bit at her.

Dana didn’t need to think very long. Her life may have been a hell hole for the last decade, but she was nowhere near done living yet, and since Duncan didn’t think she was ready to take on the Immortals out there, her answer was easy. “I want to live.”

After three weeks, Kate’s jealousy finally exploded. “It’s either her or me, Duncan! Her or me,” she screamed starting to pack her bags to show she meant it.

“But she’s just a student, Kate. I don’t sleep with her, or kiss her, there is nothing romantic going on between her and me,” Duncan tried desperately.

“Her or me,” Kate told him grimly.

 The answer was easy, the dark chief, the man raised to lead and protect his tribe, didn’t even have to consider the alternative. “I can’t just throw her out in the streets and hope she makes it.”

Kate stalked out of the house. Before she slammed the door behind her, she turned back and told him, “You’ve betrayed me again.”

~~X~~

Amanda came to stand next to Dana, and said, “So this is, Kate. You actually had a thing for her, Duncan?”

Kate’s face crunched up, her anger slowly boiling over. “Duncan,” she growled out, and pointed at Dana. “So this is how you repay me, huh!? First that skank, and now this Vulcan bitch?”

“Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart,” Amanda told her, getting angry at this ridiculous excuse for a woman. “But I came before Dana, in fact, I had Duncan even before you did, and there were women even before me.”

“Kate,” Duncan tried.

“SHUT UP!!” Kate screamed out like a crazed banshee.

T’Lerra raised her eyebrow and said out loud, “If you are Kate, it’s no surprise he chose to continue training Dana instead of throwing her out for you.”

“HOW DARE YOU, YOU . . .?” Kate started screaming, bringing out her sword. Dana, and Amanda up theirs, as Dana interrupted Kate.

“The only way you get to either of them is through me,” she told her with a grim face.

Amanda corrected Dana, “No, she’s mine. I love Duncan, that means I’ve got dibs.”

“No way,” Dana bit back. “I’m his student, and apart from that saved my life on a few occasions, it’s time I return the favor.”

“Mate goes above student, Dana,” Amanda told her firmly turning to face the red-head.

Dana turned toward Amanda as well, “Debt goes above mate, you stupid cow.”

“WHAT!? Don’t you think I’ve got debts as well, you red-haired bimbo!” Amanda yelled back at her nemesis, taking a step closer to Dana.

“Listen, bitch! You don’t even know the stupid cunt, I’ve had to suffer her attitude before. She’s mine and that’s final,” Dana growled back, closing the gap between them.

“/You/ don’t get to decide that, slut! Now me, I’ve got more than a millennium on you, so . . .” Amanda tiraded, as Kate got fed up with the two and angry plowed through them. Both Amanda and Dana had kept an eye out for a sword that may come swinging, but neither had expected her to just bash right into them, and so they spun aside, and fell to the ground.

Kate was going to make both the Vulcan bitch and Duncan pay for the betrayal. He belonged to her and no one else. When she reached the clearing reserved as dancing area Ellen stepped in front of her, her own sword raised. Kate halted, and looked at the intruder with insane eyes. Ellen told her, “If you want to get to my uncle, you’ll have to do it over my dead body.”

“That’s fine with me,” Kate hissed and swung her sword at Ellen. Ellen blocked her swing with her own sword easily. The delicately carved handle of Ellen’s sword, embroided with jewels and precious metals forged for her by her own mother three decades earlier gleamed in the early morning sun.

Kate swung her sword crudely to her other side. Ellen expertly parried it and started talking. “We don’t have to do this you know,” Ellen pleaded with Kate as the deadly dance continued. “You can just join the festivities. T’Lerra’s life span ends in a two or three centuries, you can find him again then. No woman ever has a claim on a man, and no man ever has a claim on a woman, to such an extent that it means they will never again be allowed to have any other, and have the right to kill him or her when that happens. Life just doesn’t work that way.” Ellen side stepped a swing of the angry Kate, and took a step back, not taking the opportunity to land a hit. Ellen blocked the next blow and locked the two together, “Look at my aunt Amanda. She’s been in love and in a relationship with differing degrees with Duncan for close to eight hundred years. She’s not here to cut off Duncan’s head, she has brought gifts and will join the festivities. You could do the same, Kate. Our lives are too long to waste on one single life partner anyway. A few centuries one can pull off, but more than that? Millennia even? Things just work out better when there are breaks in between times of being together. I’ve never met a couple of us, that lasted longer than a century before needing to take a breather from each other.”

Kate swung a particular vicious blow that Ellen blocked. The two standing in starting positions again: Ellen in between Kate and the wedding couple. Kate took a step back, lowering her sword. She looked down at the ground and said, “Fine.”

Ellen smiled, and lowered her own sword. She turned around to smile at Duncan, when Kate suddenly lifted her sword and swung it at Ellen’s neck. ‘I’m sorry, I tried,’ Ellen mouthed at Duncan with tears in her eyes. He nodded grimly in understanding. Ellen lifted her sword in a two-handed block to her right. The handle and guard were up, the blade pointing straight down. As Kate’s sword connected with Ellen’s, she started to turn left around on her own axis. The swords screeched as the moved along side each other, and the movements served to pull Kate forward and to her right, completely off balance. Moments later, Ellen’s sword sliced cleanly through Kate’s neck. Her head dropped to the ground.

From the different vantage points around the garden, where they had been doing their chores, the group of people watched with astonishment as the Quickening unleashed itself into Ellen. The electric discharges found easy access to the metal frame work that made up the retractable roof only just constructed. Luckily, the roof was open the metal lead the electricity away, so the glass roof didn’t shatter in a million pieces. Since Kate had never taken a head, despite her living six centuries plus, her Quickening was quite small, and since energized plasma was the energy source of choice in the twenty-fourth century the Quickening did only a little damage, exploding a few chairs and part of a table.

Once the Quickening was over Ellen breathed out her exertion, but was hardly effected. She found Björn’s eyes, and he looked a little stricken. He then turned around and walked out of the garden. Ellen didn’t call after him, hoping for the best, but deciding to put in on hold until after the wedding. This was her uncle’s day, and she wasn’t going to make it worse than it already threatened to turn out to be. “Now that was one insane female,” Methos commented out loud, bringing sound to the uncomfortable silence.

“Indeed,” the Vulcan Sulan added across from him.

T’Lerra’s parents walked over to the couple, and her mother asked, “A simple mutation?”

“I never said it was simple,” Duncan answered slightly apprehensive. Why did Kate have to be here now? Why not a week earlier or later? Telling T’Lerra’s parents and friends about his longevity had been one thing, but this part of their species had been another. Purana nodded though, with something in her eyes that could only be construed as a smile.

T’Lerra walked over to her friends to find out how this affected them, as Dana reached Reg and smiled up at his stunned face. “So . . . that was a Quickening?” he whispered stunned. Dana nodded with a smile, and hooked her arm around his waist and rested her head on his upper arm.

As it turned out, T’Lerra’s friends weren’t disgusted at all. Derra hadn’t even been surprised, explaining to T’Lerra she had done some research on long lived humans, because of Duncan, and had found a whole range of interesting legends and myths, that now made a lot more sense.

Amanda in the mean time had reached the body, and looking down at it she said, “I suggest we clean up the mess and repair the damage.”

The group of people came to surround the body, and Rudal asked calmly, “What are you planning to do with the body?”

Everybody stayed silent for a moment, not too long from now, a wedding feast would be held here. Amanda shrugged and asked, “Does Takahashi have a phaser?”

Suronak raised his eyebrow and asked, “You will not bring it to the authorities?”

Dana answered that question, “They will want to know why and how she got decapitated. Explaining them about immortality probably will not go over well.”

“Indeed, there is a sixty-seven point five one percent chance they will place us in a psychiatric institution for observation until our trial,” Derra stated calmly regarding with interest just how smooth the cut was. “Titanium blade?” she remarked.

The humans, mortal and Immortal looked surprised for a moment, then Ellen nodded, saying, “Yep.”

“What if someone comes looking for her?” Reg asked somewhat squeemy, but to his credit without a stutter.

“For somebody that deranged?” Methos asked with surprise over the question, pointing at the body. “Not bloody likely.”

“Vaporization, and recycling of any potential remains by a replicator is the most logical, and easiest solution,” T’Lerra commented, so decided, they got back to work.

*****

A short time later they were busy cleaning up, and continuing the preparations. The damage cause by the Quickening had thrown off their schedule so they were all hasting.

Amanda joined Dana, both hurrying with putting down plates, and she said, “So.”

“What do you want now?” Dana bit at the annoying Immortal thief.

“Oh, come on, you’ve got to know,” Amanda said with annoyance, as she placed plates on the repaired table. “How did the stuttering guy manage to reel you in?”

Dana sighed, placing cutlery next to the plates. “Oh, all right, fine, I’ll tell.”

~~X~~

Six months earlier

Reginald Barclay walked across the beach, wearing a boxer shorts-like swimming pants that reached to his knees. Further he wore a white t-shirt, and a hat to protect him from the sun. The beach was filled with people, and he was weaving through them delicately. He was happily licking his ice cream cone, and returning to his towel. With Voyager’s return he hadn’t had much to do at Project Pathfinder, mostly because there was no more Project Pathfinder. And so, in a combination with boredom, Starfleet’s recommendation, his friend and counselor Deanna Troi’s recommendation, and his own acknowledgment that he was tired, he had decided to take a vacation to the beach. The sandy beach of Italy, with real Italian ice cream, and Italian pasta, and Italian . . . well, you get the idea.

It was thus that he found himself walking back to his towel, enjoying his ice cream. The ice cream leaked some, and he quickly had to catch the molten ice cream with his tongue. For that moment he wasn’t looking at his feet, and he tripped over someone else’s feet. He fell face first into the sand. He looked up and rubbed the sand out of his face with his free hand, after which he checked out his sand-covered and ruined ice cream.

“Are you all right?” a concerned feminine voice asked behind him.

Embarrassed he turned around and looked at the person who’s feet he tripped over. She was looking down at him over her sunglasses, and so he looked directly into her caring, but unworried blue-green eyes. Sitting on a beach chair, the redhead, who’s hair hung to well over her shoulders, had been reading a book. In order to look at him, she was holding it aside, and so her naked breasts were very visible to him. Her skimpy bikini bottom didn’t cover up much more, and Reg felt his heart start to beat just a little faster; she was gorgeous. “Uhh, I-I’m a-alright, b-b-but my ice cream isn’t,” he answered the beauty in front of him, as he got up off the ground. He showed her his ruined ice cream, and then looked around for a waste bin.

Dana smiled at him, and opened her cooling box. Holding open a clear plastic bag she told him, “You can put it in here.” Reginald bent forward and saw the bag already carried candy wrappers, a can, and more waste. The beach after all, didn’t have any replicators, so getting a glass of drink, and then placing it back inside a replicator was out of the question. It had to be done with a little detour; place in any of the waste in waste bins, which would be picked up at night and then dumped in giant recycling unit, reducing the waste to energy, and stored for later use, or bring it all home, where one could place it one’s own replicator. Reginald let his ice cream cone drop into the bag with a wistful smile, and turned around ready to leave.

It was at this critical junction that he remembered some of his friends’ advice, Deanna’s among others, to take some more chances. He stood still for a moment and then - decision made - he turned around the face the topless woman who was already reading her book again.

“Y-y-you know, I-I just realized, s-something,” Reg said nervously. The woman lowered her book and looked up at him expectantly. He swallowed and stuttered out, “T-this d-day is far too b-beautiful to waste away r-reading a book and sitting on a t-t-towel eating an ice cream. It s-should be spent swimming in the sea.” He smiled nervously at her.

Dana blinked once, then looked at her book, from there to the water, to the sky and back to Reginald. Resolutely she closed the book and smiling she replied, “You know what, you’re right.” Reg looked stunned, as she watched her put the book away, take off her sunglasses and stand up. “Take of your shirt and hat, we’re going swimming.” Reginald nodded quickly and pulled off his hat, dropped it next to her chair and then took off his shirt. “I’m Dana,” she introduced herself, extending her right hand.

Reg took it and returned the greet, “Reginald . . . Barclay, most p-people call me R-reg.”

“All right, Reg, come on,” Dana told him with a brilliant smile and pulled hm along. Moments later they ran splashing into the water.

~~X~~

“I kissed him on our first date that night,” Dana explained with a low voice, a reminiscing smile on her face. “We spent the whole next day together, and by that night, the end of the second date, we ended up in bed together, but not to sleep. You know, I thought I had become to old to fall head over heels for someone, but Reg proved me wrong.”

Amanda grinned at the big smile on Dana’s face, and told her, “Good, I think if you lost that ability there’d be something really wrong with you. You’re never too old to fall head over heels for someone,” Amanda’s face fell, her eyes dimmed slightly. Dana placed her hand supportively on Amanda’s upper arm for a moment, but then the moment had past, and Amanda smiled brightly at Dana. “Ok, spill.”

Dana grinned back, the sad moment gone, the two continued with their chores as Dana started talking, “Granted, he’s not the best looking guy to ever grace the planet, but I find him attractive, he isn’t the most confident person ever - although I think I’ve gotten him a lot more confident these days - he’s funny though, he makes me laugh, and he’s intelligent, scratch that, brilliant, our conversations and discussions are incredibly stimulating.” Dana stopped for a moment, then looked at Amanda, contemplating whether or not she should tell, after all, she hated the woman, annoyingly she also liked her, and in a weird way, probably also loved her as a friend. She leaned over and whispered, “And a week after we first met, just enough time to get him to be comfortably with me, the cub in bed, became a tiger in bed.” Dana leaned back again, the two women grinning brightly at each other. “To me, he’s irresistible,” she added at normal volume.

*****

Ellen was really worried now. Björn was gone, not just from the garden, but from the entire property. The rest were still working in the garden. This just couldn’t be. Fear gripped her heart, this was not what she wanted. She walked around the drive way, past the house, to the barns and back again, through the house this time. But she didn’t see, hear, or feel him.

Coming back in front of the house she saw the familiar shimmering of a transporter beam, and Björn coalesced there. Thank god! She ran up to him, but slowed down with apprehension.

“Hi,” he said with a slight smile.

“Do you hate me now?” she told him quite angrily, giving him a punch in his chest. It was hard enough to cause some pain, but not so hard it would hurt him. “Cause if you do, you’re a hypocrite, you knew this might come up.” Ellen knew the reactions was childish, or at least not becoming of a two-hundred-plus-year-old being, but her emotions had gone through to big of an roller coaster right in the past forty-five minutes, and she couldn’t help herself from venting some of it. “Did you call the police?” she bit out, knowing they wouldn’t find anything anymore, if he did.

Björn rubbed his new sore spot and told her, “Hey, hey. What’s this all about?”

“You left,” she accused him. “You couldn’t handle it.”

“I must admit,” Björn started, somewhat stricken, he had never seen Ellen so high strung. Not even when the news of her father’s death reached her was she this emotionally wrought. “Seeing you kill that woman was pretty off putting. That’s why I left the garden, to contemplate. Knowing you’re forced into this, and seeing you do it, and the pleasure on your face when that woman’s soul blasted into you is a whole other experience. But that’s why I didn’t leave here, I pretty much realized that woman was insane, and her being Immortal means there’s no place that can hold her . . . as sad, callous, and cruel as it may seem, I would have done the same thing and consider it a mercy killing. But I realized something, you are not automatically as long-lived as I thought, and I can die at any time, so . . .” Ellen blinked at his tale, she had completely misjudged him, too many people she liked or loved had left her once they found out the truth of what she was, experience had colored her expectations. He pulled a box from his jacket, and presented it to her. “I was going to do this during the wedding feast, but . . .” He presented the box to Ellen. Gingerly she took it, looking questioningly up at him, and then opened the box, revealing a beautiful ring, adorned with diamonds who seemed orange to gold, if one looked really closely one could see a shimmering liquid flowing around inside the diamonds, which gave them their hue. “Will you marry me?” he asked gently.

Ellen’s head snapped back up at him, tears of joy springing forth from her eyes. “Yes, oh, god yes!” she exclaimed and slung her arms around his neck and held on, hugging him as tightly as she could.

“Need to breathe,” he commented lightly. She separated herself from him, sniffing her happiness, she pulled the ring from the box and held it out to him. She looked up, smiling. He smiled back, took the ring and gently put it on her finger, then they shared a deeply passionate kiss. Once they broke away from each other, she practically dragged him into the garden.

Happily she held up the hand with the ring on it and yelled out, “WE’RE ENGAGED!!”

The group of people looked stunned for a moment, and then some came over. Dana ran and hugged her daughter tightly. “Congratulations, honey,” she told her, then moved over to Björn and hugged him as well, her head never reaching above both their chests. She looked up at him and told him with an evil grin, “Welcome to the family, and you better not hurt my daughter.”

“Don’t worry Ms. Scully,” he answered her with a smile. “If I can help it, she’ll never be hurt ever again.”

“Good,” she added with a grin.

Amanda was next to hug her niece. “Ellen, honey, let me see the ring,” she told her.

“Don’t even dare steal it,” Ellen joked, as she held up her hand. Both examined the ring, and Ellen remembered.

~~X~~

June, 2340

The space bar was half filled with patrons, all drinking and talking with each other. It was the kind of space bar you didn’t really want to go to, unless you had a death wish, no other choice, or wanted to discuss some things in private. The constant chatter of some shady people echoeing through the dark bar was enough to throw off all but the most sensitive listening equipment. Ellen and first officer were sitting at a table, waiting patiently. “Are you certain about this, Captain? I mean their species isn’t exactly a common business partner for humans, and their reputation . . . well . . .”

“Yes, I’m certain. I want to hear what he has to say,” Ellen told him. She shifted her position. The skintight body suit made of a comfortable material that on the outside looked like shiny leather or spandex, shifted, hugging her every curve. She had lowered the zipper enough to offer an ample cleavage. The boots she wore were high-heeled. Her long red hair draped delicately around her shoulders. She was going to use everything she had, as usual, to convince her business partner to give her the best deal she could seduce from him. Of course, just in case the Ferengi was gay, her first officer was attired just as enticing as she was.

The discussion over they waited calmly. A few minutes later two Ferengis, undoubtedly the captain and his first officer arrived. They looked like trolls, giant ears, pointed teeth. The last became visible as the lead Ferengi leered at her with a smile. He followed Ellen’s shapely leg, that was draped on the table, up her tight body suit, his eyes lingered on her breasts, and then grinning he stated, “You /must/ be Ellen Mulder. Your reputation precedes you, I didn’t contact you for nothing.”

“Have a seat,” she suggested smiling sexily at him, knowing she already had him in her web. *Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,* she thought as she carefully wetted her lips with her tongue.

The Ferengis sat down, and the captain introduced himself, “I am DaiMon - that is captain - Baka. This is my first officer, Rolo. May I order a drink before we continue?”

“Go ahead,” she told him huskily, making sure her breathing was even and deep enough to let her chest swell and lower enticingly. “We already have some.” She indicated the glasses on the small iron table. The DaiMon tabbed the arm of his first officer, and he scurried off to get their drinks.

“I must say,” the DaiMon stated with a grin. “You Hewmons have a bad reputation. Don’t care for profit, barbarically abuse women, forcing them to wear clothes, and you’re supposed to be ugly. But I can see that last rumor is very much false.”

Ellen’s eyes widened in surprise. Did he just basically say that Ferengi women walked around naked? “You are mistaken DaiMon, we are not /forced/ to wear clothes. We could walk around naked if we wanted to, some do, most of just like to wear clothes,” she told him with a sexy smile. She took another impressive breathe, and added, “Don’t you agree the right amount of clothes is much sexier than no clothes at all?”

The Ferengi licked his teeth as his eyes roamed across her body. Next to him his first officer returned with the drinks. Baka had to admit she was right; naked all the time became so boring so quick, in fact, before coming out in space he was so used to naked women they didn’t even turn him on anymore. Now out in space, where most women were carefully covered up, things had changed. The fact that they were covered up had turned him on to no end. It was a reaction to the un-normal non-nakedness of women, in fact there were several very no-no officially illegal porn mags on Ferenginar where women were covered up. It just didn’t do the real thing justice. In turn, no longer seeing women constantly naked, had heightened his appreciation for the naked female form as well. “Oh, I agree,” he answered her as he ogled her once again.

“So, now that the pleasantries are out of the way,” Ellen said, and lowered her leg, she sat straight up and then hunched over a little bit, her hands crossed on the table, her breasts resting on them. It was a pose that showed her alertness and interest, it also nicely displayed her breasts in an even more enticing manner. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?” Ellen couldn’t help it, she just loved playing these games. She liked it better when a male on the other side of the table knew how to return the favor with strategically open skin, but one way was just as much fun. It was a game of just who was best. Men could be manipulated with skin she knew, but so could women. There were a few times when she lost out on the best deal, or got duped, or didn’t manage to get those extra percentage of the profit because she had been ogling the male form. Since then she had hired a heterosexual male first officer, and brought him along to keep her hormones in check whenever the opponent was a better player at the skin game than her. Said first officer stayed quiet now, he could already see that the DaiMon was completely in her thrall.

“How pleasant a surprise, a beautiful woman with a mind for business,” the DaiMon told her, licking his lips aroused. She smiled back at him, his eyes momentarily glued to her breasts, before bringing his attention back to business. “I have been researching the local cargo captains, and I found that you are the one to talk to. Well-connected, you don’t own more than one ship legally, but you /do/ own the captains, you kind of have your own little fleet of ships. You have permits to haul practically everything from multiple governments, meaning you can go anywhere within several territories legally shipping things. Which means you’re smart, you’ve slowly worked to achieve a reputation of on time delivery, and working within all the rules. In Ferengi terms you have - as a woman I sacrilegiously say - lobes.” His first officer gasped with horror. Ellen and her first officer regarded him for a moment, neither able to figure out whether it was real, a giant act to increase the value of the compliment, or both. Baka grinned, “And to add, there are several, never substantiated, and certainly not proven rumors of you breaking the law here and there. Which proves to me, you’re willing to go all the way for your profit.”

“Not all the way, I have the policy not to do any serious harm,” she answered him with a dazzling smile. Baka leaned forward himself now, their faces almost touching.

“As any business man - pardon the sexual term - should, serious harm usually means sooner or later you will get the bill, which is my own little addition to the Rules of Acquisition,” Baka told her with a leer. “It also means that you are eligible for a long term . . . eh, partnership, with business ventures, shall we say - less sanctioned?”

“What you’re saying is, I’m worthy to have your money thrust inside me as an investment?” Ellen asked him with a far too innocent face. She saw him unsuccessfully try to repress a shudder.

“Inserting money in a good investment is always a worthy thing,” Baka agreed with a giant leer.

“In that case,” Ellen told him, moving a finger and letting it slide alongside his jaw. “I am open to your suggestions. Please insert your business deal into this conversation now.”

“Wedding rings,” he stated with a big grin.

Ellen backed off from him, not out of disgust or some reason to want to distance herself from him, but out of pure amazement. With her eyes wide, she asked surprised, “Wedding rings?”

“Wedding rings,” he added with certainty.

*****

Ellen still didn’t fully grasp how Baka had managed to convince her to go into his ship with him. He had said he couldn’t properly explain it until he could show it to her. She understood even less why she had decided to convince her first officer not to come along down here. But here she was in the cargo hold of Baka’s Marauder.

“Ok, now show me,” she told the troll, getting somewhat annoyed by her decision to trust the dirt bag.

He grinned, if she didn’t know any better evilly, and opened a crate. Neatly stacked in plastic there were rows and rows of rings. He pulled one out and showed it to her. She took it, and examined the ring. It glistened an orange-like color. “Ok, a wedding with a gem, big deal,” she commented.

“It’s not a gem, it’s a diamond,” Baka told her, his grin widening.

Ellen looked back down and examined the ring more closely, and behold, when she moved the ring the orange color moved, revealing that it was something liquid and it moved inside an opening which volume was greater than the liquid. The opening had no color; it was perfectly clear diamond. Ellen’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Latinum,” Baka grinned widely. “The liquid is Latinum. Can’t be replicated. The most expensive wedding rings ever, plenty of different designs and everyone will want them. ”

“Uh, I hate to burst your bubble, Baka, but Humans don’t care that much about expensive,” Ellen told her, still looking in astonishment at the ring.

“I know, that’s why they’ll buy them without hesitation!” Baka called out triumphantly. “It’s not about how much it costs, Captain Mulder, it’s about the Latinum. Can’t be replicated, that is a genuinely hand made ring. The Latinum proves it, manual labor was used to create it.”

Ellen looked up at him, eyes wide. He was right, everyone would want this kind of ring on their fiancee’s finger. “I’ve got collars for Klingons, wrist bands for Tellarites etc., etc.,” Baka added, indicating the crates in his cargo hold. “The only problem I’ve got is that the Federation and the Ferengi Alliance have no trade agreement. We’ve met up hardly ever, if it all. So I need someone who has the proper permits to distribute them around the Federation, and the Romulans, the Klingons, the Cardassians. Which is where you come in.”

Ellen grinned, this guy was brilliant. She stepped forward, closing the gap between the two to almost nothing and she said. “I will not be your errand girl, we’ll be partners.”

Baka grinned snaked his arm around Ellen and lowered it on her ass, grasping it gently. “Of course, since I came up with the idea, and make the rings, 95 - 5 division of the net profits sound nice?”

Ellen grinned back at him, this guy wasn’t as horny as he looked, she realized. Ok, he was as horny, but he also wasn’t so stupid to let them completely control his actions. He was using his crude manners to try and get her so riled up she would swat his hands away, agree and storm out. She wouldn’t be surprised it was tried and true method that had worked on other occasions. This guy was good, he was either going to get a prolonged feel or a ridiculously big share. Ellen decided in the back of her head that a man who could pull that off was someone to be admired. But two could play that game. She stepped even closer pressing her breasts against him, his face practically in them. “Fifty - fifty, and not net, the gross.”

“Oh, come now,” Baka crowed, fondling her ass all over, his left hand landed in her side. He sighed theatrically, and relented “Ten percent, and alright, gross.”

“Forty, I won’t go lower,” Ellen retorted. Deciding the Ferengi could never have evolved such big ears without them becoming erogenous zones, she gently place a hand on either ear and began stroking as if she was fascinated. From the widening of his eyes and the quickening of his breathing, she knew she had been right.

“Twenty, and no higher,” he whispered breathlessly, his left hand moved over her lower belly, as his right gently squeezed.

“Thirty-five, and you’ve got a deal,” Ellen told him, noticing his ministrations were having an effect on her, but she was confident he wouldn’t compromise her negotiating skills.

“Thirty,” he offered.

“Deal,” Ellen told him with a sexy smile. “You put up the contract.” Suddenly Baka felt pressure on his ears instead of the gently caresses. “And I better not find any legal mumbo-jumbo to cheat me out of my cut, Baka, I will not be pleasant if I do, and trust me, I will find every single one you place in there.”

“Understood,” he told her quickly, and sighed relieved when the pressure on his ears disappeared.

“Now that the negotiations are over, you can take your hands of my body,” Ellen told him friendly, a amused smirk on her face. Gently Baka complied, and then watched as Ellen turned around and walked out the cargo hold. He grinned as he leered at her shapely butt.

“Oh, Baka, one more thing,” Ellen said from the doorway. Turned around and regarding him. “How much did you just stifle me?”

Baka’s eyes widened. How had she figured it out? But at least she didn’t know just yet how much. He smirked at her, and said, “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

Ellen smiled at him and said, “I can live with that, but if I ever find out just how much you’ve stifled me and I don’t like the number, I’ll come back to you, press my thumbs straight through your ears a few times, before tearing them off your head . . . slowly.” Ellen saw him swallow, and absentmindedly feel his ears. Ellen smiled and continued onward.

When Ellen was gone, Baka called out, “What a woman!”

“Yes, DaiMon,” his first officer answered as he arrived through a second door.

“Strong, tall, intelligent, sexy, beautiful, hot, and good with business,” Baka breathed out in fascination.

“Sir!” the first officer commented almost in horror. “You can’t be serious. A woman?!”

“Oh, quit your whining. Just because Ferengi women are horrible with money, doesn’t mean every woman is,” Baka told him, his eyes still wide with fascination.

“Don’t let the inspection hear you say it,” the man warned.

Baka’s eyes widened further with desire. “I must have her. I will make her mine. Loka, get me everything you can find on Hewmon mating rituals.” Loka nodded.

*****

Six months later, Ellen stepped into Baka’s personal quarters. Over the past six months she had grown fond of the annoying bastard. He was insanely good at finding new lucrative schemes. None were truly illegal, but not all of them were perfectly, nice, sweet and legal either. With some she was so appalled she refused to be part of, and tried to talk him out of doing it, she thought she had succeeded sometimes at least, although she knew there was a pretty good chance he did it without her anyway.

She looked around the place, and was amazed at the luxury. Apparently, as he had explained, a Marauder DaiMon’s personal quarters didn’t start out with all the luxury, but a DaiMon could expand if he was successful enough, and apparently Baka was. For some weird reason Baka liked to have a king-size bed in the same area as the living part of the quarters. It stood in the back, in front of it were tastefully golden-hued couches and chairs, and a beautiful table.

She placed herself in one of the chairs and asked Baka, who was poring them drinks in the bar area in the right of his quarters, “So what was so urgent you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Ah, let’s first drink to our successful partnership,” Baka told her with a wide grin, handing her the drink. She sniffed it, filled with alcohol, she narrowed her eyes at him, and he smiled nervously. She smiled back, gulped the entire drink down, and placed the empty glass on the table. Baka smiled widely and took a swallow from his own before putting it on the table. Ellen grinned at Baka, let him think she was now intoxicated, her Immortal stamina laughed at that little alcohol.

“Now talk,” Ellen told him with a commanding voice.

“Ok,” Baka answered. He stood up, he paced back and forth three times, turned to look at her, gathered his courage and started. “A week from now there is a conference for all the Marauder DaiMons, as well as certain assorted important business men. It consists mostly of boasting to each other about one’s accomplishments, forming business alliances, scooping others out of their ideas, or explaining ideas when you want other people to be partners with you. The more prestigious you present yourself, the more business opportunities present themselves. One of the more prestigious and impressive accomplishments is to have a devoted personal assistant who takes notes, waits on you, updates one’s agenda, etc., etc. I wanted to have one this year, but haven’t found anyone to hire.”

 “And you want me to fulfill this for you? As a favor to you?” Ellen asked incredulously, somehow she knew he hadn’t said the whole deal yet.

“Exactly, and well, you see, it helps that you’re a woman. Having a woman assistant is the greatest of prestige. To top it off, the ultimate prestige is a non-Ferengi, that I got one to do this, it would be unprecedented, I would be the envy of everyone,” Baka explained, still nervous.

“Okay, and exactly what does a woman have to do that a man doesn’t?” Ellen asked suspiciously.

“Uhm, well,” Baka started, he looked around the room, until Ellen gave a warning growl. “Okay, you see, in Ferengi culture women aren’t allowed to wear clothes, and they are supposed chew a man’s food and then feed to the man mouth to mouth.”

Ellen’s jaw had dropped after ‘women aren’t allowed to wear clothes’ the rest made her eyes pop out, almost literally. She shook herself awake, and screamed, “NO WAY IN HELL!!!” Ellen jumped up and stalked toward the exit.

Baka ran after her, “Please, please, please. You’ll get ten percent of whatever deals I make there of course! 15!”

“Don’t care about the money,” Ellen told him angrily still walking toward the door.

“20! 30! 32!” Baka pleaded, diving to the floor and grabbing Ellen’s legs, stopping her in her tracks. “PLEEEEAAAAASSSEEEE!!”

Ellen looked down at him annoyed, and then suddenly got an evil thought. He’d never go for it. She smiled evilly down at him, and said, “35 percent and only one condition.”

“Name it!” Baka cried out happily.

“You do it for me first,” Ellen told him with a smile. He looked up at her confused, as he let go of her feet. “Get off your clothes, and pre-chew me diner.” She grinned down at him. Baka hesitated, looking at her with mouth agape. Any moment now he’d tell her to leave.

“Deal,” Baka said, getting up, suddenly he was resolute, and no longer the pathetically pleading man. Ellen’s jaw dropped, as Baka ordered, “Computer seal this room, open on my authorization only.” Only his first officer could override the order, if he was dead.

“Wha . . .? Huh?” Ellen muttered in disbelief.

Baka walked over to the replicator, saying, “Don’t want anyone walking in. No man is supposed to be doing this. Any idea how much I’m degrading myself. What do you want to eat?”

“What do you think about me?” Ellen asked in disbelief walking over to the couch, thinking, *No way! He’s bluffing, he won’t do it! He’s just doing this so I give in without him having to do it! That’s got to be it!* Ellen then told him, “Steak medium rare, fries with French frie sauce, and red cabbage with apple sauce. Milk to drink.” They had exchanged recipes some time ago, so she knew she had it. She sat down smugly, any time he would start pleading again.

A few seconds later Baka arrived, placing the glass of milk on the table, the plate next to it. Ellen grinned, here it came. Her eyes widened as he took of his shoes. His pants followed. “Hey! Hold on!” Ellen blurted out.

“Why?” Baka asked confused, as he started on his shirt.

“I don’t actually want to . . . uh, you weren’t supposed to accept,” Ellen tried to explain, watching as Baka started on his underwear.

Suddenly grinning evilly, realizing that he had Ellen completely, he quoted, “A deal’s a deal’s a deal.” His under pants were gone as well, and Baka was only left wearing his head ornaments.

*Oh, my god! What have I gotten myself into! I can’t believe this, I’m going to have to do it,* Ellen thought, her face paling, until she saw Baka naked. His face may have been that of a troll, his body small, but it was well trained, and showed lean muscles. Her eyes noticed his penis, it looked nice, certainly big enough, and although there were some distinct differences with Human penises, it seemed to be able to get the job done. Blood rushed back to her cheeks and she blushed, *Oh, boy, oh, boy.*

Ellen watched astonished as Baka sat down next to her, and cut off a piece of the stake, put it in his mouth and started chewing. He then slowly leaned over to her. *Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god, I can’t believe this,* Ellen thought as she lowered herself down in a lazy slouch, so he could reach her, unintentionally placing herself in a very enticing position. His arms wrapped around her back, and he pressed his lips to her. Both their mouths parted, and using a deep tongue kiss he pushed the chewed stake in her mouth. She swallowed it down, as she watched him rake some fries to his fork, covering it with French frie sauce, and putting it in his mouth. Again they kissed and he pushed the chewed fries and sauce in her mouth. He went back to the plate and this time got a fork full of cabbage. With every kiss, Ellen could not help but notice how erotic and romantic it was to share food in such an intimate matter. It was really bad how the Ferengi had turned something so sexy into a tool to oppress their women. More steak, fries and cabbage followed, and to Ellen’s consternation she felt her nipples harden and her vagina moisten. The diner and milk was halfway done, when Baka accidentally grabbed one of Ellen’s breasts.

All through the dinner, Baka had focused on the humiliating aspect of what he was doing; something that should only be done by women, something that was considered to be humiliating. But he too had noticed the erotic part, especially since Ellen’s state of involuntary growing arousal made her kiss more passionate with every bite, and her position displayed her form and especially her breasts in an almost irresistible manner. Now that he felt Ellen’s breast in her hand he didn’t really know what to do. Hoping he didn’t get his ass kicked, he simply quickly pressed her mouth to hers and started feeding her. When Ellen didn’t immediately bat his hand away, it became impossible for him not to notice the nipple poking hard into the fabric of her tight outfit. Combined with the passionate kissing, his body really had only one option. His member stiffened and slowly stood up erect. Baka broke the kiss, having placed all the food in Ellen’s mouth and he looked at her savoring the taste in her mouth with her eyes closed. She was so beautiful. It was a bad idea to let that often noticed fact fly through his brain. His half erection immediately rose to its full size and it was now impossible to nip the problem in the bud.

Ellen opened her eyes and looked into his, her breathing labored. Her eyes searched his, noticing he too was breathing shallowly. Unable to resist, Baka gently started massaging her right breast still in his hand. Her eyes drifted downward, from the hand on her breast down to his . . . her eyes widened momentarily. She shifted her gaze back to his eyes, for a moment the world seemed to stand still. Then they moved closer, Ellen swinging her legs on the couch, forcing them underneath Baka. They kissed passionately, and ferociously. Baka pulled her tight spandex-like top open and fondled her breasts, before he broke the kiss and hungrily attacked her globes with his mouth. Ellen’s right hand was around his back, moaning as she urged him on. Her left had already starting tugging on her pants, and she started wiggling out of them. It didn’t take her long, the futuristic material allowed the pants to be put on and removed easily despite its tightness. Without much thought, Baka ripped her g-string off her, and then plunged his erection inside her wet confines. He groaned, and stayed still for a moment enjoying how her inner muscles grabbed his cock with abandon.

“Fuck me,” Ellen moaned and he obliged her, ramming in and out of her powerfully, and with an ever increasing speed and rhythm.

Barely five minutes later they climaxed together. Breathing heavily, Ellen looked down into his eyes, he was too short to reach her face and lips. They would have to find a position for that, she vowed. “Now what?” Baka asked, gasping for air.

“Can you get it back up?” Ellen whispered huskily. He nodded with widening eyes. “Good, to the bed, bring the dinner.”

Moments later they were on the bed, this time she was on top, riding his once again hard organ. Groaning in pleasure she cut a piece of the stake, and chewed in, then went down and fed it to him in a passionate kiss. Once he swallowed it, she forked some fries and placed them in his. He chewed for a while and then she kissed him, this time he pushed the food in her. They continued the erotic game until the dinner was gone, and they both exploded in another orgasm.

~~X~~

Chapter 10: Connor

The hover car gently flowed over the road. Behind and in front of it more cars moved. Glenfinnan was a small town, and the house lay apart from it. There was no public transportation, and no transporters. More cars had been hired and were waiting near the church for any of the guests that beamed into Glenfinnan to transport them over to the house after the ceremony. Methos drove the car, Amanda sat in the passenger seat. In the back from left to right, sat John, Dana and finally Reginald. The women wore beautiful gowns, and the men tuxedos.

As John sat thinking over the past day’s events, meeting people who had known his father far longer than he had, he continued to return to thinking about his father. “Dana,” he suddenly asked. Dana turned away from her chatter with Reg, and turned to look at him.

“Yes,” she answered, smiling.

“My father, tell me about him. What did he like? Were there other women? What was his favorite color? His favorite movie?” he asked with a flat tone.

Dana took a deep breath, thinking for a moment. “His favorite color was red. His favorite movie was Braveheart, he always complaining about the bad accent, I used to jibe him with the fact that he had been away from Scotland and spoke so many other languages for so long, that he himself couldn’t even pronounce it properly anymore, so who was he to criticize actors. What did he like . . . peace and quiet, a simple house with a garden to work and live in . . .”

~~X~~

Berlin

March, 2189

Dana opened the small gate and passed through it. The house, on the outskirts of the city, had a hedge, a lawn, and a garden that stretched around the sides and to the back. To the left was a driveway, connected to the garden, that lead to a garage. The lawn and garden were immaculately kept, and Dana let her eyes appreciate the simple beauty of the whole ensemble.

Smiling she stepped toward the front door, and the buzz hit her. She pinpointed Connor, and stepped on the lawn, and circled the house. She found him in gardener’s clothes, a cap on his head. He had his sword in hand, as if he’d just picked it up. When he saw her, he placed it back against the wall of a tool shed. He grinned widely, walking up to her. “Dana!” he exclaimed.

“Connor!” she greeted him back as he picked her up in a powerful hug. His dirty hand prints from working in the garden were now on her white blouse. She slung her hands around his neck and they kissed deeply.

“What are you doing here?” he asked after breaking the kiss, but keeping her in the hug feet of the ground.

“Oh, I spent almost thirty years in a nice country house in the Netherlands, and for the past fifteen or so there was no one there but me. Ellen left the nest and returned only occasionally, I got restless, sold the house - much to Ellen’s chagrin, and protests about her childhood home being lost - and I figure I go look up my long time sparring and bed partner, before seeking my fortune in the great, wide unknown again. Hmm. Approve?” Dana explained to him the cliff notes version.

“Heh, heh. Very much so,” he said and then kissed her again. He then pulled her down to the ground and started tearing at her clothes.

“Hey,” she said breathlessly. “That’s all the clothes I got.”

With a chuckle, Connor told her, “I’ll buy you new ones.” The blouse ripped, the jeans didn’t fare much better, and before Dana could protest (not that she wanted to) they were making love to each other in his garden still partially clothed.

For several months they stayed together, enjoying each other’s company, going out to movies, plays, theme parks, and whatever else they thought about doing, which included lots of laughter and sex. Finally, Dana took her leave of him, the main reason was that she had spent too much time cooped up in a house and she needed to experience some adventure again, in space.

~~X~~

“ . . . of course he liked his adventures as well. As for women, hmm, I guess we should start at the beginning,” Dana mused figuring out what to tell Connor’s son. “His first, and possibly biggest love, was Heather. Spent sixty years with her, died in his arms at old age, and he buried her close by here, stuck the sword of his clan in it as a head stone. Connor is buried there as well now, for the second time, it’s become pretty much a shrine, a pilgrimage, a tourist attraction, for people who want to be inspired by the legendary, Satan’s minion, and demon, or not - part of the mystery - Connor MacLeod,” Dana told everybody in the car, and in particular John.

“I know the place, so he /is/ actually buried there with his first wife? I thought that was just legend, being that I thought I knew he died several hundred kilometers from here and I never saw his body,” John asked, a smile on his face, he approved. Dana nodded. He added, “I’ve treated it as his grave. I’ll have to visit there soon, again, knowing it actually /is/ his grave.”

“He didn’t have many loves, I suppose Alex told you about his second love, the one that looked like her?” Dana asked with a smile.

John nodded, “A friend of him took his place on the guillotine, he was officially dead, she married another.”

“Then there’s Brenda, your first mother, died in a car accident caused by Connor’s long time nemesis and childhood friend Kell, you probably don’t remember much of her, do you?” Dana continued. He shook his head, confirming. “She was a historian, helped the cops on occasion, she liked studying swords and sword making. You know more about your second mother than I do, there’s me, and there’s one other: Jasmien Wertz. He met her shortly after I left him in 2189, they married almost a year later . . .”

~~X~~

Berlin

November, 2194

Dana hadn’t bothered to call ahead, she hadn’t checked whether Connor still lived there. She was determined to surprise him, and potentially herself. She smiled at the concept, and opened the little gate she remembered so well. She walked up to the door. The familiar buzz assaulted her senses; yes he was very much still living there.

She rung the bell and waited. The door opened moments later, revealing Connor. She grinned, he smiled. “Boris,” she greeted him mockingly with his fake name and went to hug and kiss him deeply. He hugged her fiercely, but he averted his head, making the kiss land on his cheek instead of the deep passionate tongue-full one that she had planned.

“Rianne,” he greeted back, tightening the hug some more for a moment and then breaking it. A woman came out of the living room. A brunette. She wasn’t exactly what Dana would consider beautiful, she wasn’t ugly either. Plain best described her. “Hello? Who is it, Boris?” the brunette greeted questioningly.

‘Boris’ closed the door, then turned around, smiling wildly. “Jasmien, this is Rianne Jansen, but I’ve told you about her; her real name is Dana Scully.” Dana smiled at what was obviously Connor’s new love, and extended her hand. Jasmien took it with large wide eyes. There was a giant mixture of emotions playing over her face and in her eyes; jealousy, happiness, admiration, irritation, curiosity and several more Dana couldn’t immediately place. “Rianne, this is Jasmien, my wife.”

Wife! That was unexpected. For a moment similar emotions played through Dana, and then she smiled happily. It was no act, once the first selfish thoughts of possession and jealousy had hit her, Dana easily batted them aside, realizing this was the first mortal love for Connor in nearly two centuries. “Oh, it’s so good to meet you,” Dana told Jasmien with a grin, and a moment later hugged her close. Jasmien was a little surprised at that, but returned the hug. She broke it and took Jasmien in better, studying her. She turned to Connor, and told him, “It’s a fine woman you’ve got there, Boris.” Jasmien seemed both flattered and annoyed at the compliment, staying silent, not quite knowing what to say to the woman that held part of her husband’s heart for so long.

Connor gave his trademark chuckle, and ushered the two women he loved toward the living room. He saw Dana would have no problem with his mortal lover, he was not surprised. “I see there was no fortune in space then, hmm?”

“Nope, plenty of adventure though, I feel refreshed, rejuvenated,” Dana answered him with a wide a grin as she and Connor’s wife sat down in the couch.

“Can I get either of you something to drink?” Connor asked them strategically. Both opted for a soda, and he left to get them.

Dana turned to the silent Jasmien, and realized the woman had no idea what to say to her. “So, tell me everything. Start at the beginning, when, where, I want details.” Jasmien’s eyes widened with surprise, hesitated for a moment, and then tentatively started speaking. By the time Connor had come back with the drinks, Dana had already won over the other woman.

~~X~~

“ . . . they divorced about ten years later, in 2204. She wanted children, real children, she thought she could, but couldn’t handle aging while he didn’t, plus meeting me certainly didn’t help any. For as long as it lasted, it was a pretty good relationship, the cracks started to form only a year or two before they divorced,” Dana recalled wistfully, looking up at the roof of the car. She turned to Reginald then, and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, thankful she, and the others were still alive.

John nodded, thinking things over. “So what was he like,” he asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Connor MacLeod,” Methos answered instead of Dana, a humorless smile on his face, looking at John through the rear view mirror. “An enigma, wrapped in tragedy, wrapped in self-loathing.” Amanda and Dana nodded thoughtfully. “Connor MacLeod was the kind of man that wanted to just age, marry, have children and die. He didn’t care for Immortality, to him it was a curse. He hated it, seeing people constantly die, it didn’t help that an Immortal by the name of Jacob Kell, raised in the same village as Connor, killed Connor’s loved ones prematurely, just when Connor thought he might get a little happiness after all.”

Dana nodded, lost in memory.

~~X~~

June, 2112

Deep Space Port Taklan

Dana sat at the table of the bar inside the space port, depressed. She took a gulp from her alcoholic beverage. For six years they had roamed the quadrant, transporting cargo. Things were going all right, several lucrative deals had come their way. But what had Dana riled up was Connor. He was depressing to be around, hell, he was down right gloom and doom. He was brooding, and all kinds of other decidingly not fun things.

She looked up from her glass and saw a green-skinned alien woman delivering drinks to the table next to hers. She wore a tiny skimpy waitress uniform that showed off everything she had. She was sexy as hell. Dana blinked, looking at the woman as she made a little small talk before turning back to the bar to get her next order. *Sexy?* Dana asked herself. She remembered a few experiments in college, but nothing that really made her notice stuff, then that there was that unnatural attraction to the future alien girl, but her being from the future, they had reigned themselves in. Dana got an idea. If that didn’t work, nothing would. She called the waitress over, and started flirting with her, as she ordered another drink.

*****

Connor stepped into their quarters, closing the small door behind him. The quarters were mostly bare, cramped, and metallic. A few things had managed to be put in to liven up the place but it was still obviously claustrophobic.

Connor walked along, automatically ducked to pass through the doorway, and entered the bedroom. The bedroom was the same as the main living area: cramped, tiny. Just enough room for a double bed, two night stands, enough opening to walk, and in the corner a small cubicle that held a sonic shower, a faucet, and mirror to comb hair, put on make-up etc.

“Hello, Connor,” Dana greeted huskily from the bed. Connor reading a piece of paper nodded, and gave half-hearted greet as he walked on toward his night stand.

“Hello, Connor,” another female voice said. Connor stood completely still instantly, and then turned around to regard the bed. Dana and a green-skinned alien woman were on the bed, embracing each other suggestively. Neither wore more than a few skimpy attempts at lingerie.

“Connor, may I introduce to you, Jarna. She’s an Orion,” Dana told Connor with a twinkle in her eyes. “I’ve found she’s a very good kisser,” Dana added and then the two women kissed deeply, and passionately. After they broke apart, Dana asked, “Why don’t you come join us?”

Connor nodded, having lost the capacity for speech. He quickly placed the piece of paper into the night stand, and then started taking off his shirt, simultaneously getting on the bed.

First he kissed Dana, then Dana pushed him to Jarna and they kissed, soon the three were in a heated three-way sex act.

*****

Two days later

“DAMN IT, CONNOR WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?” Dana screamed out loud, finally fed up. He was sitting in the small chair in their cramped quarters and he too noticed that Dana was very angry. She had screamed hard enough for everyone else on the ship to know as well. “You’re just sitting there! Or doing chores! You’re quiet, closed off, you’re barely alive! I gave you a god damn threesome with another woman, every other man would be high on that for at least two months, and you’re already back to Mr. Gloom and Doom in less than two days.”

“John,” Connor answered, but got cut off.

“GET OVER IT!” Dana yelled at him, getting angrier. “You’re either going to find him or not! Doesn’t mean you have to hate your life, and suck the life out everybody else!”

“Dana,” Connor tried, and he stopped when he saw her sigh, calm down and looking down at the floor in defeat.

“I’m leaving,” she then said resolutely.

Connor’s face turned to one of shock. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Connor, but I can’t do this anymore. For a year I’ve been futilely trying to get you to cheer up and just enjoy life, and failed at every turn,” Dana told him. She opened the drawer, and pulled out her most precious belongings, and her favorite clothes, and started putting them in a back pack. “I’ve just come back from insanity, and a several decade long depression, finally got things straight enough in my head I can enjoy life again, and I want to enjoy life, /need/ to enjoy life. I can’t watch you drag yourself down into that abyss of darkness you like to crawl into, because you’ll pull me along with it, and I don’t think I can pull myself back out of that a second time. Goodbye.”

She put the hastily packed backpack on her back and walked out the quarters. “Dana, please, stay. I promise I’ll be better,” Connor pleaded following her out the door.

Dana turned around for a moment and said, “I’m sorry, Connor, I really am. I hope we’ll see each other again some day. Goodbye.” Connor watched stunned, and heartbroken as Dana rounded the corner, toward the airlock docked to the space port.”

~~X~~

“It’s why he died, you know. He died the way he lived; hating life,” Dana piped up, coming out of her reverie, interrupting more of Methos’ explanation. “Me, Amanda, Methos, Duncan, and for what I’ve seen you, we would have raised our swords in guard position instantly, and checked out who the buzz was, not just assume it was Duncan. If he had raised his sword . . . Mac would have been able to get there, and stop Brandon before the exhaustion induced by the Quickening became fatal. Damn fool.”

“I’ve loved him for two hundred years,” Dana added with a wistful smile. “The only real reason he carried on was to protect the innocent, the mortals, from the evil ones. His moral compass is what kept him going. As long as the prize could fall into the wrong eyes he would continue onward.” Dana pauzed for a moment and explained further. “But he had no particular desire to live; it’s what made him make mistakes, made him sloppy.”

Chapter 11: Wedding Ceremony

They arrived at the church in Glenfinnan some time later. Most guests were already present, having entered earlier. The couple and their entourage arrived closer to the actual start time of the ceremony to keep from having to walk around outside in the formal clothes. As everybody else got easily out of the car, Duncan needed to help T’Lerra wearing her beautiful, but slightly cumbersome wedding gown out of the car. Once she was out she placed the veil on her head and made it cover her face. The dress was nothing short of incredible. It reached her ankles, and flowed around her legs practically hugging it. The right side had a split up to her thigh. Her legs were incased in a white panty hose, that only T’Lerra and Derra knew was crotchless. Invisible to all, T’Lerra was wearing a g-string over it, she was well-prepared for the wedding night. Her back and shoulders were bare. The front of the dress that hugged her frame tightly was low enough to show some cleavage.

T’Lerra’s father - after getting out of the other side of the same car - calmly walked over to Duncan and T’Lerra. He would, according to Earth custom give his daughter away. It had taken some time to convince T’Lerra’s father, and Sulan to wear tuxedos, but after Purana told her husband, and Derra remarked to Sulan upon seeing the other men in tuxedos, that there was certain aesthetic quality to it, they had relented. T’Lerra hooked her arm around her father’s and give him a look, before sharing the same one with Duncan. There were twinkles in her eyes. Her face may otherwise have been impassive, but to the Immortals it was all too obvious she was excited about the wedding, that she was looking forward to it, and that she was enjoying herself.

Duncan grinned at her, and then he followed the others who had gone ahead into the church. T’Lerra and her father shared another look before they entered the church. Once they were inside, the music started playing. T’Lerra locked her gaze on Duncan, who was waiting near the altar and the priest. The people in the church stood up as they walked down the aisle. The church was almost completely full with guests from all over the place. Starfleet personnel, Federation officials, mostly from the ambassadorial core who still knew Duncan, Duncan’s crew, some more of T’Lerra’s family - the few who found the Human ceremony important enough - and several Vulcan officials; it wasn’t often there was a cross-species marriage, especially not one involving a well known (former) ambassador.

When they reached the front of the church, the music stopped, and Duncan took Suronak’s place, while he went to join his wife in the bench.

“Dearly beloved . . .” the priest started, as Duncan looked at T’Lerra through the veil, seeing her long hair flowing around her face. He smiled, and remembered.

~~X~~

August 25, 2376

Betazed

Betazed had suffered during the Dominion War, it had even been occupied during a long time of it. It was quickly rebuilding though, now that the Dominion was defeated. Duncan and T’Lerra had taken the opportunity to take a vacation on the exotic planet, and presently they were basking in the after glow of a particular exhausting sex session. The two of them were lying in each others arms on the bed in their hotel room. Each smiling contently, T’Lerra of course only smiled with the twinkle in her eyes, even she couldn’t suppress.

“Duncan,” she called thoughtfully. Duncan answered with a hmm. T’Lerra continued, “Do you like long hair on a woman?”

“Huh?” Duncan blurted out dumbfounded. “What brought this up?”

“I realized, that the sensation of running my fingers through your long hair has a . . . certain appeal,” T’Lerra explained with some difficulty, bordering close on admitting an emotion they both knew she had, sometimes cultural conditioning was quite annoying, to Duncan at least. Therefor Duncan grinned sardonically at the statement.

“I find running my fingers through a woman’s long hair to also be of a certain appeal,” he answered with a grin. Let her ponder that one, it had no statement in whether or no he preferred long hair or not.

T’Lerra’s answer a bit surprising, “In that case, I shall let my hair grow.”

“You don’t have to,” Duncan told her wide-eyed.

“I want to,” T’Lerra stated calmly.

Duncan looked closer at her and added, “I might decide to cut my long hair off sooner or later.”

“I might decide the same thing some day,” T’Lerra answered him, before giving in to the urge to kiss Duncan deeply. She broke it rather abruptly, “Oh.”

“What is it?” Duncan asked concerned.

“It’s nothing, just a small fever, it’ll pass,” T’Lerra told him calmly, and proceeded with kissing him again. Duncan’s passion overrode his concern.

*****

The next day Duncan woke up. He smiled at the sun, he turned over and kissed T’Lerra on her cheek briefly. The Vulcan woman had turned over in her sleep and was lying away from him. He got up and went to take a shower. When he got back, the radio alarm had went off and was relating news. Duncan frowned when he realized T’Lerra hadn’t woken up from the alarm clock. That was strange.

Several words from the news broadcast caught Duncan’s ear, “ . . . planet-wide viral outbreak . . .” He didn’t need to here anything else, T’Lerra’s mention of a small fever in the night drove him onward.

“T’Lerra!” he called, bending over the bed and shaking his loved one. When she didn’t respond he tried again, before turning her from her side on her back. His eyes widened in horror, her face was bathing in sweat and swears covered her body, spelling out words in different languages, all meaning the same thing: ‘Smile, you’re dead.’ Duncan’s eyes widened in panic and pulled her over to him, before picking her up in his arms, and carried her as fast as possible out of the room.

*****

Several hours later Duncan sat next to T’Lerra, who was lying on a cot in a large hall, filled with people lying on cots, each of them in the same state or worse then T’Lerra. She was sweating, and shivering, sometimes jerking as her body futilely tried to fight of the super virus. The swears looked horrible, and on occasion opened and winked like they were some sickening living suction cups. Duncan had T’Lerra’s right hand between his. He held on tightly, and whispered, tears flowing down his face, “Please, T’Lerra, don’t die. Fight this, you are too strong for a little virus. Fight it.”

When a medical worker came by, Duncan asked him about medicine or cure. The man’s answer was disheartening, “There’s no cure yet. We’re working on one all over the Federation, sir. I can’t give her painkillers yet. There aren’t enough doctors to give it to everyone, there are too many sick, and she’s not yet in the critical stage. I’m really sorry.” The Betazoid wiped away some sweat from his fore head. He looked at his now moist sleeve and he muttered a Betazoid curse, before walking onward.

Hours past, and T’Lerra got worse and worse, eventually bad enough that she was given pain killers, but that didn’t help much, seeing T’Lerra’s condition. Duncan paced, sat down, paced again, sometimes went out to get a drink, mostly he just sat next to her, praying to whatever omnipotent being that would listen, none came to help.

When Duncan was certain T’Lerra’s swears were going to burst open in a spray of blood any moment, like he had seen happen to other patients,, a nurse arrived. A female one this time, looked at him with a giant smile. “They found a cure, sir,” she said incredibly happy, as she placed a hypospray against T’Lerra’s left upper arm and sprayed it inside. Where the nurse had injected T’Lerra, the swears seemed to lessen almost immediately, even though T’Lerra herself still shivered and sweat. “I can’t inject you, sir, you show no signs of the virus yet, there aren’t enough nurses to inject everyone, only those who need it right now to survive are given it. They told me they will soon start spreading an airborne version, so you don’t have to worry.” The nurse than moved on, and Duncan watched with astounding, ground shaking relief, and overwhelming happiness, as bit by bit T’Lerra’s swears started to receed.

Suddenly, he stood up resolutely and ran out the hall. Fifteen minutes later he was back at the still healing, but no longer jerking and shivering T’Lerra. He watched with a giant smile as the cure continued its work. There was an announcement that the cure was being spread through Betazed’s atmosphere. Ten minutes later, the virus started receding faster. Finally, half an hour after the announcement, T’Lerra’s eyes started fluttering, and then slowly opened.

“Wh-where am I?” T’Lerra said with a panicky voice, looking left and right around the hall, finally focusing on the smiling Duncan. Her body had been tasked to the limit, the fever-induced nightmares she undoubtedly had, had torn more at her; she was too worn out for any kind of emotional control.

“Shh,” Duncan told her with a wide grin, his finger on her lips. “You were infected with a designer virus, but they found a cure.”

“H-how l- . . .?” T’Lerra tried, but Duncan’s index fingers returned to her lips.

“Shh,” he said again and then moved much closer to her. “No talking, I want you to go to sleep to rest, and strengthen yourself. First though, I’ll explain something and ask you one question. I want only one word from your mouth before you go to sleep, ‘yes’ or ‘no’. T’Lerra, there have been only a handful of moments in my long life that I’ve ever been so afraid, as watching you today. It made me realise I’ve been wasting time, that I’ve waited far more than long enough.” Duncan pauzed revealing a small box from inside his coat, he opened it revealing a rang. “The ring symbolizes an eternal commitment, no end. Will you marry me?”

T’Lerra blinked once, and then said, “Yes.” A wide smile adorned her face, and Duncan’s grew even wider. He placed the ring on her ring finger.

“Now go to sleep, you need rest. We’ll talk when you wake up,” Duncan told her, unable to wipe the grin off his face. T’Lerra nodded and then shifted to a more comfortable position. Duncan watched her fall asleep, the wide smile still on her face even after she fell asleep.

*****

An hour later, Duncan paced back and forth in their hotel room. From what the nurse had said, the pain killers and sleep medicine he gave T’Lerra - even after being already asleep - she’d be out for at least eight hours. Duncan was apprehensive. He had done it, asked a woman to marry him, the first after ‘her’, and she had answered ‘yes’. He could hardly believe it. It had been partially a spur of the moment, on the other hand he /had/ been thinking about asking for some time. Doubt now coursed through his body, he needed to talk to someone. Dana? No, he didn’t feel comfortable talking to a woman about this, that eliminated his niece and Amanda as well. And Wolfe, he never really liked, some had told them he either was jealous, he was too much like him, or both.

That left only one person, but then, he had known that before his contemplation. It wasn’t that he hated that person, or that he didn’t like him, or that he couldn’t trust him, or that he didn’t know how to reach him, but he was just so unpredictable. There was never a way to guarantee he would get to hear what he wanted to hear, and he had no qualms about telling the cold hard truth. Duncan sighed, he didn’t have much of a choice. He went over to the screen and made the call.

Moments later Methos’ face appeared on the screen, gave a mysterious smile - *Could he even not smile mysteriously?* Duncan asked himself. -, and said, “Edward O’Mally here, how’ya doing MacLeod?”

“Well,” Duncan faltered, sighing deeply. “I need your council.”

Methos laughed, “Well, it’s not often the great MacLeod asks for my council. What is it?”

“I just asked T’Lerra to marry me, she said ‘yes’,” Duncan explained.

Methos gave a laugh, and told him, “Well, it’s about damn time, MacLeod. So what’s the problem?”

“I’m afraid,” Duncan answered truthfully. “I’m afraid she will die before the wedding.”

“WHAT!?” Methos exclaimed in disbelief, uncomprehending. “What the hell makes you say that?”

Duncan brought up his courage, and said, “There was this gypsy palm reader, told me I would never get married. It has held all this time.”

Methos looked completely flabbergasted, which was a rare sight in deed. Methos always thought he couldn’t get shocked, let alone flabbergasted anymore. He blinked a few times, and then laughed, hard. And laughed, and laughed. Duncan got annoyed at Methos. The man was actually laughing in his face, at one of his most deepest emotional pits. “I can’t believe this,” Methos muttered through his laughs, and then laughed harder.

“What’s so funny?” Duncan asked tersely.

Methos got his laughter under control and answered, “I can’t believe you believe that crap. When was this, huh?”

“Eighteen hundreds,” Duncan answered, and Methos laughed out loud again. Harder even, and fell of the chair he was apparently sitting on. “DAMN IT!” Duncan shouted at the screen only showing a walls. Methos slowly crawled back on the chair and in viewing range.

“MacLeod, you were already married at the time she made the prediction!” Methos told him sniffling.

“Not as such, she left before the wedding night was over. Doesn’t constitute a marriage,” Duncan answered him angrily.

“‘Never get married’, is not ‘never be in a marriage’, MacLeod,” Methos answered him, still sniffling. Duncan’s eyes widened slightly. “Besides,” Methos continued, grinning, and holding up his hand. “Tell me how an unlimited life line can fit on a hand, or for that matter an eight-hundred-year, or fifty-four-hundred-year life line, hmm?” MacLeod looked at his own hand dumbfounded, the old guy had a point. “Let me tell you a story, MacLeod,” Methos told him grinning. “I met a palm reader once. I was curious; let her read my palm. Must have been around the time of the crucifixion. Anyway, she told me I wouldn’t see my thirty-first year. I laughed her in the face, and left. I was already over three thousand. Thirty-one years later I made a toast to the stupid woman. I was still alive, even relative terms she was wrong. When I got around thirty-one hundred I did the same. I’m still here MacLeod, over fifty-four-hundred years old as far as I can remember. What does that tell you?”

“Uhm, palm-reading is untrustworthy?” MacLoed asked sheepishly.

“More like ridiculous,” Methos corrected grinning. “Have you kept yourself from marriage for six hundred years, even in this scientific day and age, because some - I take it - old crone told you, you would never get married, even when you already were?”

 “Yes, well, she was a beautiful, young woman I was in love with,” Duncan answered him perplexed.

Methos laughed hard again, and then said, “MacLeod, really, ever need council again, call me, please, cause you’re a barrel of laughs, and I can always use a good laugh. I’ll be expecting an invitation.”

~~X~~

Methos grinned widely, as if he knew what MacLeod had been remembering, and handed over the rings. One to Duncan, the other to T’Lerra, who allowed herself a small smile, not caring if it was unvulcan of her, and what her parents and friends thought. Perhaps they thought it was part of the ceremony.

Duncan took T’Lerra’s left hand, and held the ring in front of her ring finger, and Duncan recited from memory, “With this ring I wed thee, T’Lerra, daughter of Suronak to be my lawfully wedded wife, to love and honor, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.” Duncan then gently pushed the ring on her finger.

T’Lerra then took Duncan’s right hand, and held the ring in front of his finger, “Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, with this ring I take you as my husband. I will love and honor you, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health all the days that are allotted us.” Then T’Lerra gently shoved the ring on Duncan’s finger.

In the benches, Suronak gently whispered to his wife, “There is a certain symbolic quality to the ceremony, is there not?”

“Indeed,” Purana whispered back.

Next to them, Dana grinned at Ellen at that statement, and Ellen smiled back. She turned to look at the couple. “Then with the power invested to my by the state of Scotland, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Duncan gently lifted the veil, and looked into the cool face of his wife. Duncan put his right arm around T’Lerra’s waste, his left hand touch her right in the traditional Vulcan two fingered show of affection, before he pulled her to him, and kissed her deeply and passionately. He decided to prolong the kiss a little longer, T’Lerra eagerly continued the kiss.

“Hey, capt’n!” a voice suddenly yelled out from the audience. “Hurry it up, will ya? We came here for the party and cake, not to watch you ravish your lovely bride, have the decency to wait till tonight!” The church audience burst out laughing.

Duncan broke the kiss and answered him, “Shut up, Ran. You want a party and cake, marry someone yourself!” As the guests laughed harder, Duncan kissed T’Lerra again, who was unable to keep herself from laughing, the mirth from Duncan came to powerfully over the bond as they touched their bodies together. Then Duncan broke the kiss. The two smiled at each other, as their ringed hands clasped tightly together, and they walked back up the aisle out the church. T’Lerra’s smile slowly faded, leaving a neutral face, but one that nobody couldn’t see the happiness radiating from both of them.

As Ellen watched Duncan and T’Lerra walk out the aisle, a memory of a less happy time was brought on, as earlier memories that day, and the day before, were still lingering.

~~X~~

April 24, 2343

Unaffiliated Space

Ellen kissed Baka hungrily. She was on top of him, riding him to a mutual orgasm. It was then that the sneak attack hit. The explosion tore through their quarters with a powerful shockwave, reducing the room to shambles. Several moments later Ellen awoke with a shock, only her more severe wounds still healing. She looked around the devastation, scorched walls, the furniture thrown about, and there was a whole inside the wall, one and a half meters across, a force field kept the air inside. Then her eyes fell on the body lying next to her. It was heavily burned, part of the right leg was torn away, his face was mess, and he was unnaturally still.

“BAKA!!” she screamed out in terror, tears springing from her eyes. “Wake up!” She felt across his body, no reparation, no heart beat. She started CPR. “Come on! Wake up! Please!” After a few more moments she stopped, no longer able to hide from the truth. Her husband was dead. More tears burst from her eyes, as she slowly retreated into a painful stupor. A mantra came forth from the back of her mind, her mother’s voice: ‘There is no pain. There is never pain. Your survival is your number one priority. You can feel pain afterwards. There is no pain.’

“There is no pain,” Ellen whispered, wiping away her tears. She good up, whispering another time, “There is no pain.” She went to the door, but it wouldn’t open. “Survival first; there is no pain.” She whispered one last time and went fully into action. She went to a wall and opened an engineering access, all the time the ship kept rocking with explosions, but apparently the bridge had managed to get the shields up by now. She quickly went into the crawl way. She crawled along for a few minutes, until she found the ladder she’d been looking for and quickly climbed upward.

She reached the bridge another few minutes later, and crawled through the small access hatch. She looked about. It was a mess, scorched walls, a bulkhead had collapsed, apparently crushing the first officer. The Ferengi left on the bridge were obviously terrified, as well as hurt, a lot. She found the second officer dead on the floor as well. She got up, and ordered, “Damage control teams focus on weapons, shields and engines. Evasive maneuvers. Return fire. Report!”

As she walked over to the captain’s seat - that was luckily still intact. A Ferengi made the report, they were too terrified, and too well conditioned what to do on the command ‘report’ that none of them complained about her sex. As Ellen sat down in the chair, a short moment of self-consciousness passed through her at her nakedness, but faded as the report came to her ears. “Orion Raider dropped cloak and attacked without provocation. Aft shields gone, starboard and port shields down to 42 percent, frontal shields at 52 percent. Torpedo launchers gone, estimate repair time two minutes. Only frontal starboard phasers are still active. Warp drive gone, no estimate. Impulse engines at 79 percent. The Orions are trying to lock a tractor beam on us.”

Ellen checked the readings in the displays on the arms of the chair. “Target their tractor. Put it on screen, now,” Ellen ordered and the larger screen flickered to life with difficulty. There that was easier to see. The ship rocked again.

“Frontal shields down to 41 percent,” a Ferengi relayed.

“Their tractor beam is disabled, the rest is too heavily shielded though, I can’t get through,” the weapons’ officer announced.

“Change course 056 mark 123. Give me a count down on the torpedoes,” Ellen ordered, and the ship moved, weaving about. “Turn us about,” she added, adrenaline running through her body.

“Can’t we just bribe our way to freedom and life?” a particularly frightened Ferengi asked.

The Ferengi in command of the engineering station stated, “One minute fifteen seconds.”

“No, they’ll get more money selling our cargo and us into slavery,” Ellen answered him tersely. *Especially me,* she thought in disgust.

“One minute,” the Ferengi announced.

“Shut down power, let power flicker, make it look like we’ve got difficulty repairing the energy core, on off, on off, make us drift,” Ellen ordered rapidly a plan forming. When they looked at her like she was crazy, she yelled, “NOW!” They obeyed.

“Forty-five seconds,” the Ferengi dutifully stated.

“Danco, target these coordinates with the working phasers, keep them pointed at them. Secondary target their warp core,” Ellen ordered, tapping the coordinates in the chair’s arm console. Danco, the weapons’ officer nodded. “Keep updating to the coordinates I’m feeding you. When I give the fire command, bring everything you can on-line.”

“Thirty seconds,” the Ferengi stated.

“Come on, come on, just one torpedo and we’re dead in the water folks,” Ellen whispered desperately, continuing to update the information, eyes closed, second guessing the other captain, calculating distance and vector. They had only one shot at this.

“I get it. Weapon’s trajectory,” Danco said, understanding. Ellen grinned as she saw him take over.

“Fire!” Ellen commanded and she felt the Ferengi Marauder power up, as the phaser beam lanced out. “Change course and target,” she ordered afterwards, watching the beam lance out, and right on time the Orions fired a torpedo. Just as the torpedo passed their shields the phaser beam hit the same spot. The torpedo exploded and the beam lanced through onto the unprotected hull of the Orion Raider, causing massive damage. At the same time the exploding torpedo in the shields disrupted those shields. “Fire everything we’ve got!” Ellen ordered excited, and watched a phaser lash out, accompanied by two torpedoes and explode into the Orions’ hull.

“Their warp core is growing unstable!” the Ferengi at the engineering station called out in panic.

“Get us out of here, everything this thing can muster, keep our back away from them!” Ellen screamed the unnecessary order. The Marauder turned around and started limping away at its current full impulse. Moments later the Orion Raider exploded, the shockwaves shaking the Ferengi ship heavily. “Damage report!”

“The shields are down another few percent, a few hull fractures, nothing more serious than we already have,” the Ferengi answered with relief, then asked, “The DaiMon?”

Ellen closed her eyes and shook her head, pain threatening to lance through her. *There is no pain,* she told herself, it was not time yet. Ellen got up and ordered, “Danco, you’ve got the bridge.”

“Yes . . . ma’am,” Danco answered, the show of respect she had only gotten from Baka up until now did not go unnoticed by her.

Knowing the door to their quarters were still damaged, she took the same way back as she came. Once in her quarters she stoically looked at Baka for a few moments, then clenching her jaw, she went over to the computer console and accessed communications. Moments later Baka’s father appeared on screen. “I regret to inform you that your son has died in an Orion sneak attack,” she told him looking to a point behind the screen instead of at his father.

“I see,” the man’s eyes twinkled, he could get quite a bundle selling his son a most successful Daimon’s corpse piece by piece.

“I hereby also give you an offer for his entire intact body, two thousand bars of Latinum,” Ellen added. “That should be enough to top whatever you can get cutting him up. Tell me if there are any higher offers. Obviously I will not be telling just how much I’m willing to pay, I do want to get a bargain, nor do I want you to drive the price up.”

“My son did say you were a shrewd business woman, I didn’t believe him until now. Very intriguing, a woman with a business sense,” the man leered at her naked form.

“Is that all?” she asked him.

“For now.”

“Goodbye, then,” Ellen returned, and severed the connection. She turned around, and looked down at Baka’s corpse. She walked over to him, eyes watering, and then broke down. She sank to the floor, crying and sobbing, slinging her arm around Baka’s corpse, not caring that it got bloody.

*****

Four days later, she, Duncan and Dana stood in a New York cemetery. The graves of Alan Barret and T’ruk’l Klaiko were slightly to their left. Alan’s gravestone was renewed. In front of them, next to T’ruk’l’s grave, there was a new one. It read; ‘Baka, husband of Ellen, February 12, 2310 - April 24, 2343. Rest well, my greedy annoyance.’

Tears started to flow from Ellen’s face, and then she started to cry again, dropping her head on Dana’s shoulder, clinging to her mother’s frame. “Six kids,” she sobbed. “We were going to get six kids. It’s not fair, he deserved to live longer.”

“I know,” Dana whispered. Duncan added his arm from the other side, both holding the crying girl closely.

~~X~~

Chapter 12: Party!

Dana looked around the table. The delicious, and fatty food was in front of her, and she happily dug into it. Around the table everyone else was enjoying the feast that was served for lunch as well. To her left, Reg commented on the food with a full mouth, muttering out, “This is good.”

Opposite Dana and to her left, Ellen scooped a spoon into her new fiance’s mouth, after which he returned the favor, both smiling. In the middle of the garden the bride and groom sat at a table perpendicular to the rest, taking in the food with the same gusto. To her right and opposite her Methos winked at her, raising his glass of wine, thus he signaled he too had been observing the proceedings, and decided in the same matter that it was good. The wedding had gone off without a hitch, only the preparations had been rudely interrupted. Amanda seemed to find John MacLeod entertaining company. Dana wondered briefly if she should tell the brunette he was gay. Nah, let her find out for herself. Dana grinned, and remembered a similar party.

~~X~~

Suburbs of New York

December 24, 2125

Dana grinned at the recipes. Tomorrow would be a great day, everyone was invited to the Christmas party. She would have to do a show tonight, but tomorrow she had gotten off. It had taken all her persuading to get off, but she had managed it. The wooden kitchen she was in, was small, but it would do. She got the pen, a small piece pf paper, checked out the fridge, and started writing down all the things she needed and didn’t have.

Dana smiled at her surprise for everyone. Today was Monday, which meant Alan was at work. Which was good, made it easier to conceal until the right time. When she was just about done making her shopping list, the bell rang. She looked up, wondering who rang a bell at nine o’clock. If it were those damn kids again, she’d find away to pay them back. They had Alan and her walking uselessly to the door for a few days now. When the buzz assaulted her a moment later, she was sure it wasn’t any kids. She walked through the hallway, linking the kitchen to the front door. A door on the right led to the living room, and left stairs led up. The hallway was carpeted, and was done in a blue and red hue.

She opened the front door cautiously, just as the person rang the bell again. Dana looked at the female figure with long blonde hair. As she opened the door all the way, Dana narrowed her eyes, and hissed, “Amanda, so you’re back in New York, huh?”

“Yeah, Duncan let slip you’re throwing a party tomorrow. I’m not offended you didn’t invite, after all you didn’t know where I was, but Duncan told me I had to ask you if I could join,” Amanda explained to Dana. She had purposefully decided that it would be much more difficult for Dana to deny her face to face.

“No way in hell,” Dana told her coldly.

“Ah, come on, please?” Amanda pleaded, everyone was going to be there. “I don’t want to be all alone with Christmas.”

“Pick up a guy, and fuck his brains out,” Dana answered her coldly.

“Pleeeaaasseee?”

Dana grew irritated. “No. Look, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t particularly like you much.”

Amanda grinned in triumph as she pulled out her trump card. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have met Alan. You owe me.”

Dana groaned. The little bitch was right, how the hell did she manage to owe Amanda anyway? Then she got an idea. “Fine, on four conditions. One; you will be pack mule, I’m going for groceries about now.” Amanda didn’t seem pleased, but she agreed. “Two; you will help set up, and clean up.” Amanda agreed. “Three; you will be a waitress, help me haul the food from the kitchen to the living room, and back again.” Again, Amanda agreed. “And four; you will be in uniform.”

“Uniform?” Amanda asked. Dana just grinned with mischief.

*****

That night, after her ballet show was over, Dana did not put on her regular clothes. She placed them in her bag, what she did wore underneath her trenchcoat was her ‘uniform’. When she entered her home, she took the soft, red hat from out of her bag and placed it on her head. The white fluffy ball on the end hung down the side of her face. She put the bag down, took off her coat and hung it up. Grinning she walked to the living room door, opened it and stepped through.

The living room lead from one end to the house to the other. The floor was done in a wood paneling. The internet television set was to the left close to the window that looked out upon the street. It was surrounded by black leather couches, chairs and a center table. Closets lined the walls to the tight, and a high table for reading and games was there as well. Further left, all the way in the corner, was a desk and computer. By tomorrow night, most would be moved out, or shoved aside, and a long table would stand in the middle, so the guests could all sit, eat and talk.

Alan looked up from the news broadcast, as he heard Dana come in, and his jaw dropped. She was wearing a short red skirt, with a fluffy white edge, a black belt kept it in place. Underneath it she wore red stockings, and same color garter belt and tight g-string, but the skirt covered that up, barely. A jacket of the same material and color covered her upper body, stopping just above her belly button which remained visible. Like the skirt, the jacket’s edges were a fluffy white. The jacket was buttoned up to mid-breasts, revealing the red tube-top and cleavage. The hat completed the ensemble. Dana had her hands suggestively in her sides and walked over to Alan with swaying hips. As the skirt moved under her swaying steps, it allowed tantalizing glimpses of the stocking tops and the garter clips. When she stood just in front of him, legs lightly spread, she asked with a smirk and a wiggle of her eyebrows, “Well, my husband?”

Alan grinned, grabbed her waist and pulled her down forcibly. Dana spread her knees so she sat kneeling over him. They kissed ferociously, and he reached underneath his skirt, trailing the garters. “Oh, god,” he murmured as he felt his erection strain against his pants. He unzipped with one hand, and pulled Dana’s panties aside with the other. Both groaned with satisfaction as he penetrated her. He suddenly turned her around, and laid her down on the couch, and while both of them were still mostly dressed, they had wild passionate sex.

After he discharged his seed into her orgasming pussy, he looked her in the eyes, and said, “I so love this outfit.”

Dana grinned widely at him and said, “I figured as much, you were quite taken by that Family Ties rerun yesterday. What was it again? Classic Christmas Episodes Marathon?” He nodded. To Dana’s pleasure she felt him stiffen again. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.” He grinned, and then picked her up in a fireman’s carry. Dana laughed, and then squealed in form. “Ooh, strong man,” she whispered huskily as he carried her off.

*****

Alan yawned as he came down the chairs. Last night had been awesome. He checked the clock when he reached the kitchen, and noted it was just over nine o’clock. Christmas was good, two extra days off. “Dana!?” he called, and frowned when he didn’t get an answer. He looked out the window in the back door, and through the window in the shed he noticed movement. Usually she was long done with her workout, he must have worn her out a lot last night. As he walked out in the garden, he grinned with pride, his male ego pleased with that conclusion. He didn’t care that he walked barefoot, and practically naked, only wearing a boxer short and an open blouse through the cold snow; it was rare that he got to see his wife work out, and he wasn’t passing it up.

He opened the shed door. The weapon storage was swivelled aside and the different weapons were visible. The tools hung on the other wall across from him, work benches lined the walls. Closets stood in the left corners. He walked forward, took the steps down to the main area and sat on them, gawking at Dana. She was breathtaking. The white tank top that her sweat had made semi-see-through, revealing her breasts, had nothing to do with it. Her movements were fluid, poetry in motion. The bo she was using moved rapidly through the air. Her dance, which could become deadly, was executed at similar great speed, flawlessly. On occasion there was a move that was purely ballet, and not martial arts, thus she trained herself for her job as well. Alan noticed she was only wearing the tight work-out g-string, she had forgone the skintight shorts she usually wore, in haste? Alan wondered about that. He must have worn her out more that he had thought. He grinned as he felt his penis rise in admiration of the sexy body performing those motions displayed just how limber she was.

Abruptly Dana stopped, the sound of the long pole colliding with the wooden floor punctuating the end of her work out. She stood straight, legs close together, touching the other, and she grinned at her husband. “Like the show?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” he answered. She grinned and returned the bo to her place, and pushing a button the weapons’ case swivelled around, out of sight. She walked over to Alan, and placed herself in his lap, kissing him deeply.

Abruptly she broke the kiss, slowly, and erotically grinding her pelvis into his. “Oh! You /really/ liked the show,” she told him with a grin, and her vagina reacted appropriately to the feel of her lover’s erection. When she subconsciously rubbed her clit across it, the crotch of her g-string quickly gained a wet spot. The two stayed locked together for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, sharing each others breath. Then smiling, he pulled her g-string aside, while her hand pushed his boxers down. Moments later he happily slid inside her, much to Dana’s approval, as she groaned out her lust.

*****

That evening the people had arrived. Dana was wearing a pinafore, an apron she could throw over her whole being, neatly hiding what she wore underneath, and keep it clean. Her and Amanda’s hat she had tucked away in a cabinet nicely. Amanda, her designated slave for the day, wore the same thing over her uniform. The high-heeled boots were placed far under the kitchen table, thus nobody was any the wiser for their surprise later on.

Alan came in looking around the different dishes of food. Dana looked at him questioningly, and he told her, “Wash my hands.” He went to the faucet and did just that. What he had done to get them dirty Dana didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. When he was done, he eyed the pudding for desert, and said, “Hmm, looks good.”

“Hands off,” Dana warned him, stirring the sauce she would poor over the beef later on.

“Party pooper,” he grinned at her and eyed another dish. “You know, you should . . .”

“Quiet!” Dana ordered, waving the spoon she was using threateningly in his direction. Duncan who had just come in watched the scene. “You’re a great cook, but this is my kitchen today, so keep your god damn advices to yourself. Now get out.”

“Huh?”

“Out of my kitchen, now! Next year you can prepare the food, and you get to kick me out of the kitchen. Now out!” Dana ordered him. The spoon made both him and Duncan, who had arrived shortly after Allen, decide to choose the better part of valor and leave Dana to her cooking.

“My,” Amanda commented, as she placed some delicious decorations around a dish, exactly as Dana had ordered to, now being extra careful not to do anything different, “you’re rather harsh aren’t you.”

“Two opinionated cooks should never be in the same kitchen,” Dana answered her a little sour.

Amanda grinned, and replied, “Good thing I’m neither a cook nor opinionated.”

“I’ll say,” Dana answered, returning to stirring the sauce, and turning the fire under another pan lower. She was just about to check up on the chicken in the oven when the buzz assaulted all the Immortals in the house. Everyone expected was already present, so . . . who was this? Apprehension gripped Dana. She shook off the buzz, and casually checked out the chicken. Only when she was satisfied it was going well, did she go to the hallway. Amanda, who had already gone ahead, looked astounded that Dana would check her chicken first. Duncan and Connor had come to the hallway as well. Methos of course stayed calmly inside the living room, letting the others handle the situation.

Dana wormed herself past the two MacLeods and opened the front door. A black man stood there, an intense gaze of hatred directed at Dana. “Dana Scully, come out you bitch. I’m Zuberi Nkumah, you’re challenged.” Something clicked inside Dana’s mind; she recognized him.

“Oh, my,” she whispered.

“You go back to cooking . . .” Duncan began with intense gaze.

Connor finished for him, “ . . . I’ll handle this.”

Duncan was about to argue with his older brother, when Dana ordered forcefully, “NO! This is my fight!” She picked her trench coat, and called, “Alan!” Alan came out the living room, and realized what had happened. He paled. “Keep an eye on the food, and do nothing more than stir, got that?”

“Y-yes,” he answered nervously, his eyes pleaded with her not to go, to just call the cops.

“Promise me, nothing more than stirring,” Dana demanded, as her eyes answered him she couldn’t.

Solemnly he lifted his hand and said, “I swear, nothing more but stirring.”

“Dana, one of us can . . .” Connor started.

Dana silenced him with a look, and told him, “I killed his student. Be back in a few.” Then she stepped out the door, closing it behind her, and walked resolutely toward the man.

Inside the house, the three Immortals in the hallway shared a look. “Uh, oh,” Duncan whispered.

“What do you mean, ‘uh, oh’?” Alan asked with a deep frown.

The three Immortals gave each other a look, and Amanda said softly, “Well, if she feels guilty . . .” She let it hang there.

Alan looked stricken for a moment, then looked at the door, and answered, “No, she’ll be back.” Then he turned around and went to the kitchen to keep an eye on Dana’s feast.

*****

Somewhere close by in an empty alley, Dana pleaded, “We don’t have to do this, Zuberi.” Zuberi attacked and both their blades collided. Their swords separated and Dana parried his next blow, the two of them encircling each other.

“Yes, we do!” he hissed as he attacked viciously again. Dana noticed this guy was good, he had managed a nick on her cheek already, she needed everything she had to keep him off her.

“I don’t think Heddwyn would approve,” Dana told him blocking a few more vicious blows.

“YOU DON’T GET TO USE HIS NAME!!” he snarled out almost hysterically, his sword fighting though was not affected, just as immaculate as before. He had quite some self control.

“I didn’t want to kill him,” Dana started, getting interrupted by Zuberi.

“Of course not, your sword arm slipped!” he yelled, making a particular inspiring combination that sliced open the coat on Dana’s left arm, luckily it didn’t go deep enough to harm her uniform. The close call to her surprise riled her up, and she fought back instead of just defending, keeping him away from her.

“I was insane,” Dana recalled, their swords clanging together. “May 2, 2048, I was there in DC. I got caught in the blast,” she said forcibly. Zuberi looked at in shock for just a moment, and then continued fighting. “I couldn’t handle it, post-traumatic stress induced insanity. I walked naked through the devastation, people begged for help, people called me ‘angel’, people called me ‘demon’. I got a car and drove off, driving over wounded people. I decided that for putting people through what I put people through, all of us were monsters and needed to be exterminated. I killed everyone I came across, eventually, in the seventies, I did the same to your student. He was remarkable, great skill, and incredible attitude. All through the fight he tried to reason with me, but you can’t reason with insanity. He seemed more concerned for my soul, than for his life. He defended himself only, never made an offensive move . . .” Zuberi was visibly crying, tears ran down his cheeks, his fighting was finally reduced to hacking and slashing, and Dana could easily deflect the blows. “ . . . he told me, I and all of us weren’t bad. He told me it wasn’t my fault that nuclear bomb hit. He told me that what I did was the only thing to do under the circumstances. He told me that I must have friends that had survived the war. He told me . . .” Dana pauzed as Zuberi looked at her, their swords locked. He was crying and slowly staggered back, and dropped to the floor, and he just sat back against the wall. “ . . . he told me killing wasn’t the answer.”

“That sounds just like him,” Zuberi sobbed, his sword still clutched, realizing that he was rather defenseless in his new position.

Dana squatted down and looked at the black man. “I’ve never met someone so full of peace, and tranquility as he. He never stood a chance. When he was on my knees, my sword through his gut he looked up at me with this strange smile. Serene. I was too insane, too out of it to really notice, but it did make a lasting impression on me. This strange, almost knowing - no . . . not knowing . . . determined - determined smile, those resigned - no - accepting eyes filled with love. His Quickening touched me, he was so incredibly peaceful. It was the first time in almost thirty years that I was feeling something other that a thirst for blood. I’m pretty certain taking in his Quickening was the nudge I needed to slowly crawl out of the pit of insanity I had found myself in.” Dana looked at the crying man. She was crying herself, for the loss of such an incredible man as Heddwyn. There was no telling what he could have done had she not taken his head. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t want to kill him, I wish I hadn’t. I met him once, for all of twelve minutes, and I killed him, but he was one of the best, and most incredible men I’ve had the pleasure of meeting throughout my life.” Dana stretched out her hand, and looked Zuberi in the eyes. “I’m throwing a Christmas party, don’t know if you celebrate it, but I would be honored if you’d join. I think we can squeeze you in.”

Zuberi looked at the woman who had killed his best student, and best friend, and for a moment he saw something pass in her eyes. For that moment it seemed as if Heddwyn’s smiling features looked at him from her face. He sighed and took her hand, and let himself be pulled up. “I’d like that,” he told Dana, who smiled. She put her sword away, and so did he, then they walked back toward her home.

*****

Dana looked at Amanda, both of them had gotten rid of body covering apron, had put on the high-healed boots, and hat. The only difference in outfit between Amanda and Dana, was that Amanda was wearing white stockings instead of red ones. “Ready?” Dana whispered with a naughty smile, as light music filtered to them from the living room. Amanda nodded, grinning back. Both were carrying a dish in either hand. “Here goes,” Dana said with a grin, and pushed the door open with her foot. The two of them sashayed into the living room, announcing, “Merry Christmas!”

Alan sputtered the mouth fulf of wine he had back in his mouth back into the glass, then coughed, and blushed as Amanda and Dana slowly walked further into the room. They placed the dishes on the table. As they walked they gave glimpses of the garters they were wearing. Duncan looked over at the blushing Alan, and he then bent over to Alan’s ear and whispered, “Let me guess, she gave you sneak preview last night, huh?” Alan blushed deeper red, Duncan chuckled.

The rest of the table was still staring open-mouthed by the time Amanda and Dana had left the living room to go get the rest of the bowls and dishes. When they returned, Alan’s brother, who was sitting close to the tv alongside the tables placed behind each other to form one long one, muttered, “Holy mama.”

His girlfriend, sitting to his right, smashed her elbow in his ribs. “Ow! Hey!” He shifted his gaze to his girlfriend and asked, “What the hell was that for!?”

“Stop drooling at them. I’m sitting right here,” she bit at him, and stomped his upper arm.

“Ow! Damn, you know what, Monica, if you were wearing something like that, I’d be looking at you, since you aren’t,” he told her angrily.

She stomped him on his upper arm again. “Ow! Stop that! I’m not doing anything wrong here,” he hissed. Another stomp. “Ow! Try that again, and I’ll hit back.” He caught her next stomp, and as she looked fearfully at him, he completely his threat with a light stomp on her upper arm.

“OW!” she screeched out, feeling her upper arm, two tears forming at her eyes. “I was just being playful,” she almost sobbed.

“So was I,” he bit at her, but feeling guilty at the tears.

“THAT’S IT!” Dana yelled at them, and they looked up at her. “You stop with the fake tears, you stop with the hitting, and so will you. One more raised voice out of any of you two, and I’ll throw you out of the house. I will not have you ruin my Christmas party! Got that!” The two nodded obediently, and Dana and Amanda went back out to get the last batch of dishes.

‘Make up sex,’ Methos mouthed to Connor and indicated the thoroughly scolded couple to the right of him. Connor raised his eye brows at the mysterious, strange guy, he once knew as ‘Michael’. Methos grinned.

Dana and Amanda returned, and placed the last of the food on the table. “Bon apatite. Dig in,” she told all of them, and she and Amanda took their seats.

Zubreri took in Dana and Amanda once again, and thought, *Damn, am I glad I didn’t kill her.*

Dana looked around the table at the eating and conversing people. Family, friends - she looked directly across the table - loving husband; life was good.

~~X~~

“Let’s dance,” Reginald whispered to Dana. She looked at him and smiled. The two got up from the table that was being cleaned by hired waiters, and went over to the dance floor. The just married couple, and a few more were already dancing the waltz, and they soon joined them. As they swayed across the dance floor in the transformed garden, to the rhythm of the sound produced by the band, Reginald leaned to Dana’s ear and told her, “I love you.”

“So do I,” Dana joked softly. Reginald grinned at her, and pulled her closer. “I love you too,” she told him.

*****

That night, after most the guests had left Duncan, T’Lerra and a group of his friends, including Ellen were calmly talking about this and that. “That reminds me,” Duncan said, and turned to one his friends at the ambassadorial core. “Agostino, my wife has convinced me I should become an ambassador again, there’s a condition though.”

“Wait a minute,” the ambassador friend told him a little surprised. “You are asking for your job back, and you give me conditions?”

“I thought you were complaining about too little diplomats in the chaos after this war and the return of Voyager?” he answered him with a grin. The group turned back to look at Agostino, interested in how this verbal spar was going.

Apparently Duncan had already won, because Agostino’s shoulders slumped and asked, “So what’s the condition?”

Duncan grinned at him, “My wife will be one of my assistants, part of my entourage, she has an interest in studying non-Vulcan psyches.”

Agostino looked from Duncan to the Vulcan in question, and back again, “All right, fine.”

Duncan grinned and turned to his now ex first officer. “Well,” he said, clasping the man’s shoulder. “That makes you officially the captain.”

“I’ll take good care of her, Cap- Ambassador,” he answered with a smile. “And if you ever need a quick get away ship, you have but to call.”

Ellen sighed, remembering a similar experience.

~~X~~

February, 2367

Atlantis Project

“WHAT!?” Ellen screamed, drawing looks from all over the canteen. The dome outside shimmered, keeping the water outside.

“Uh, yeah,” the woman said nervously at Ellen’s outburst. “I’ve heard they are offering control over the entire project to Jean-Luc Picard.” Ellen’s eyes widened in disbelief at first, than narrowed as anger grew and turned into a storm. The chair she was clutching moved slightly making noise, her knuckles were white with exertion. Abruptly she let go of the chair, turned on her heel and stalked out of the canteen.

By the time she reached the director’s office she was more than a little enraged, she was this close to seeing red. She didn’t bother acknowledging the secretary and barged right though the doors into the director’s office. He looked at her for a moment, before continuing his conversation with someone on the screen. His white hair, with receding hairline, stood out in the blueish office. The name fell, and Ellen slammed her hands on the edge of the desk, she looked at the screen, recognizing Louis. “So it’s true then,” Ellen hissed angrily. “You are offering this job to that half-wit Jean-Luc Picard. Why, Manuel!?”

“Ellen,” Manuel started calmly, soothingly, patronizingly. “I think he’s the best for the job. You are a close number two though.”

“THE BEST FOR THE JOB!?! NUMBER TWO!?” Ellen yelled out. She glowered at him for a moment, calming down, and said with betrayal, “I thought you and I were friends, Manuel.”

“As far as I am concerned, we were and still are,” he told her with a perplexed face.

Ellen seethed, breathing in and out deeply, almost like a bull before charging, “That fool has been gallivanting around space for all his life, he knows nothing about water and tectonics. Now me! I can be diplomatic when I want to, I can be charming, I’ve got an incredible public image, and I’ve practically run this project since its conception. /You/ were all thinking about a little city, I suggested an entire continent and proved it could be done, and I convinced the Federation Management to go ahead with expanding it into a continent. I AM THIS PROJECT! Even if you think I’m not suitable for the job, Manuel, anyone of the other six Senior Project Foremen are more suited than that space cowboy.”

“Yet Picard has already found a solution to our problem, the one none of us have solved yet,” Manuel told her sternly and handed her a PADD.

Ellen flicked through the proposal of one Jean-Luc Picard, and then laughed out loud. “THIS!?” she yelled. “THIS!” She needed to do something, and threw the PADD with all her might against the wall to her right and shattered against the wall. “You know why I never even bother to point that ‘solution’ out to anyone, because we do that, and this city and the starting continent will sink into the magma below! You stupid fools!”

“That may be,” Louis announced from the screen. “But I’m certain Jean-Luc would have figured that out on before hand with more data, and input from the rest of us, including you. He is the best for the job. He’s well known, has incredible diplomatic skills . . .”

“On a first name basis!” Ellen interrupted him, fed up. “Friend of yours, Louis!? Want someone here to listen and be partial to your ridiculous ideas? Well, you know what the both of you can do! YOU CAN GO SCREW EACH OTHER!” Ellen turned around and started stalking out of her office, angry beyond reason. Suddenly she stopped and turned around. Pointing at Manuel she hissed at him, “One more thing, without me here, that space cowboy will sink this project into the ground, and I’ll quit if he takes over.” The continued her journey, ignoring the secretary who looked apologetically at Manuel.

*****

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!!” Ellen ranted pacing back an forth in front of the communication screen on which Dana’s face was visible. “I CAN’T BELIEVE MANUEL WOULD STAB ME IN THE BACK LIKE THAT! I CAN’T BELIEVE ANYONE IS SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING THAT SPACE COWBOY!!! I built this place, practically from the ground up. It was my dream to raise a continent out of the ocean floor for decades. AAAH!!”

#Calm down, Ellen,# Dana told from the screen. #Picard will decline, he’ll go back to his precious ship and then the job is yours. What’s the big deal?#

“THE BIG DEAL!? THE BIG DEAL!?” Ellen raged onward, standing still and peering Dana directly in her eyes. “The big deal is I’m surrounded by either fools or people who stab me in the back. I can’t believe the Federation Management would consider that- that- Space Flee! Anyone else actually working on the project now would be better than him!”

Dana raised her eyebrows at Ellen’s tirade and answered calmly, “So who are the Federation Management?”

“Two Dutchmen and a guy from that underwater species,” Ellen answered dismissively. “Not too surprisingly. The other six foremen are Dutch as well, we are the first and foremost experts in water, water management, and land and water handling for close on a thousand years by now, if not longer.”

“You consider yourself Dutch?” Dana asked with surprise.

Ellen looked at her, “You did raise me there, and I’ve always loved water.”

“I actually didn’t know that, heh, learn something new every day,” Dana answered Ellen with a grin.

“Is there a point to all this?” Ellen asked tersely, sometimes her mother could really get on her nerves.

Dana grinned and answered, “So they’re experts, and Manuel and Louis have been the only ones in contact with them over his matter?” Ellen nodded with widening eyes. Dana finished the thought anyway, “Thought about going to them yourself?”

*****

Two days later Manuel and Louis came walking into his office. “So he’s declined?” Manuel asked.

“Gone back to space,” Louis answered wistfully. Manuel looked up and did a double take when they saw Ellen standing behind the desk.

“What are you doing there?” Manuel asked confused.

Ellen grinned at them, and nodded to the ground in front of the desk. Manuel looked down to the spot and saw a few cardboard boxes. “Your personal belongings. Take it, and get off my project.” She threw the PADD in her hands to Manuel. The old man caught it and read over it, then looked up at her wide eyes. “The Federation Management agree with me that I was the best for the job. They were appalled at how you downplayed my involvement in the major breakthroughs, and they agree that a young female image is what describes the future of this project best. They even gave me the pleasure of firing you. An early retirement, but then you were already planning one. Why did you do it, Manuel? Old age creeping up, wanted to have something worthwhile to immortalize your name? Couldn’t bare it that a girl in her mid-twenties overshadowed you?” Ellen caught Manuel’s gaze and bore her own into his for a moment, making him understand just how much she hated him now.

Then she turned to the other man. “Oh, and Louis,” Ellen threw another PADD from her desk to Louis. “The same goes for you. You’re fired. Get off my project, and /now/ get out of my office. MOVE!”

The secretary came ushering the two men out, “Sorry, she’s the new boss.”

~~X~~

With the married couple off enjoying the wedding night, their inner circle looked around the mess in the garden. Tables, chairs, papers, food, were strewn about.

“We could start to clean up now. Throw everything in the replicator, get a robot to clean the ground and we’d be done in half an hour,” Björn commented at the sight.

Methos yawned and answered, “Yeah, or we could go to bed first, and bother with it in the morning.”

After a moment the Humans and Immortals turned around heading for the house. The Vulcans looked at the retreating Humans with raised eyebrows. Methos turned back around, and told them, “If you want to, you can do it alone, I estimate you’d be done in three hours and forty one minutes?” The rest of the group looked over their shoulders.

Rudal answered calmly, “Three hours, forty seven minutes, and sixteen seconds.”

“I was pretty close,” Methos said with a smile. “And to think I just a named a number.” Then he turned around again, and continued into the house, the rest of the group following him.

The Vulcans raised their eyebrows, looked at each other for a moment and then joined the others.

The End

Home

Back to Stories

Back to Dana's Legacy