Disclaimer: I do not own Highlander or Star Trek. They belong to their owners. I don't intent to destroy the characters. I am sorry if anyone who has been involved in either of these works is offended by my take on the characters. Still, I hope that someone enjoys my story.

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Chapter 2: Thank You For the Music

It was almost seven. I stood backstage; my heart was pounding. In a few minutes I would be starting my first performance. It was opening night at "The Hangout."

Jessica was messing with my hair again, adding more hairspray to it. "Jess, if you add anymore hairspray, I'm going to be a fire hazard."

"I can't help it! I'm nervous. Besides, your hair is sooo static-y. I just want it to look perfect," Jessica replied.

I turned to face her. Staring straight into her brown eyes I began, "How about I worry about my hair and you worry about yours." I stole the hairspray from her and threw it into our dressing room.

Jessica sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry, but, well . . ."

I smiled. "I know; me too."

Just then the band started up. That was our cue. We grabbed our mikes, turned them on, and headed onstage, already singing the opening lines to "Complicated."

The night seemed to fly by. We had an hour-long break at nine-thirty. During that time, a mix of radio music was played. It was well past midnight before the last customer went home. But, once everyone realized that we were done for the night, we called it quits and packed up our gear.

It was almost two in the morning by the time everyone was ready to leave. The guys in the band decided to have a party: the night had been a total success. The Hangout was a place for teenagers, so no alcoholic drinks were served and everyone was good and sober.

I yawned. "Okay, everybody, I really gotta get home."

"Before you go, let's have a toast," Joe suggested.

"Okay," said Hugh. "I'll grab some glasses. Is Sprite okay for everyone?"

"Why not?" Tim said with a shrug. Then he smiled. "It's not like any of us brought champagne."

A couple of seconds later, the drinks were handed out and everyone stood around in a circle. Joe lifted his glass and began, "To a future as successful as tonight."

"Here, here," said a few people and we all took a drink.

To be stupid, I added in a fake sobby voice, "And to world peace." I took a drink, and the rest of the group groaned.

The next day was Saturday. That afternoon, we practiced for our second performance, which would be that night; our third performance was scheduled for the following Friday. We performed only on Friday and Saturday nights. Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays were sort of "open mike nights." It was a great way to make a little extra money for the club and gave other local bands a chance to be seen. The schedule for the next three weeks had already been filled with groups wanting to play.

During these days, we helped the visiting bands set up. Then there were Thursdays. We weren't even required to come on Thursdays. It was Karaoke night. Sundays, The Hangout wasn't open. Joe just decided that, for those of his workers who were religious, it would be better not to have it open.

Outside of work hours, we pretty much did whatever we wanted. The guys all had part-time jobs. Jessica's parents were rich, and basically paid for anything she wanted. She was in the band because she enjoyed it; she had no other reason.

I had no money problems. Q had taken care of that "little detail" too. I was . . . well, let's just say I came into some money.

It was during this Saturday afternoon practice session that I had my first encounter with Methos. I began to sing, "You walked in to the party--" when the door opened.

"We're closed," Hugh yelled over his shoulder. He was sitting with Joe at a table.

"Yeah, I know. I was looking for Joe," said a familiar voice in a British accent.

I coughed. The band stopped, we had continued our performance through the entire exchange, but at the recognition of Methos' voice I lost it. After a few more coughs, I turned to the band. "Sorry guys, got some dust in my throat."

"Not a problem," James replied, he smiled warmly, and moved his blond hair out of his eyes, then he started again. In a second the band was replaying the opening cords.

I watched as Methos and Joe shook hands and sat down talking quietly together. I began again, this time with all the strength of my voice. I kept my volume at a nice range, but sang with my heart, trying to catch the ROG's attention. "You walked in to the party, like you were walking on to a yacht . . ." As I continued singing, Methos' eyes slowly drifted up to the stage.

I watched (while I sang), as Methos asked Joe "Who's she? She's good." (It was too quiet for me to hear, but I'd gotten very good at lip-reading over the past couple of years.)

Joe smiled and replied, "I know. Her name's Christina. She just moved here. Real sweetheart. You'll like her."

The song ended and we continued to practice for another hour. Finally, Hugh called for us to stop. "If you sing anymore Christina, you'll lose your voice before tonight, and then what?"

I laughed, "You'd be surprised, but I would like a break. I have to sing these songs all over again tonight after all."

"How many songs can you guys play anyway?" Asked Methos.

"About 300," Answered Mark. "We're the best. We never forget a song once we've learned it."

"Have you been together long?" Was the old man's next question.

"Six Years, for me and the guys. Jess joined us a couple years ago when we came to Seattle. Tina, of course, is brand new," Tim supplied with a smile

"Cool. Any of you guys sing?"

"Derek, Clark, and Alan, but we wanted a girl or two to mix it up, ya know?" James added. "We still sing once or twice in the nights too."

"You guys have a name?"

"Well originally, we were called 'Made in New York', after Jessica joined us we changed it to "Coast to Coast," Derek told him.

"So, what are all your names? I'm Adam Pierson by the way."

One by one everyone told him their names and shook hands. I was last and as I shook Methos' hand, suddenly I realized the truth. I was really here. This was happening. I don't know what it was about contact with Methos, but my whole outlook changed.

"Well, I really have to get going," I said briskly. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Pierson, I'll see you guys tonight, okay." I said this all in one long sentence and then walked quickly out the door.

Humans have a tendency to ignore the truth if at all possible. For the last few days, I had been doing this. Now, after meeting Methos, I knew that this world was real. For some reason, I had been under the impression I was just having one long realistic dream. Now, I knew better. I began to run, I forgot that my car was The Hangout and ran all the way home. Once I was inside, I sat down and began to cry. Why? Why did this happen to me? Before Q messed up my life, I had everything! A family, a fiancé, and a lot of wonderful friends. Now, I had nothing. Thankfully, Q showed up at just this point.

"It does no good to cry, Christina. You will only make yourself unhappy. Think about the things you do have. A nice apartment, a cat. A group of people to make your friends and a chance at Methos. What more could you want?"

"Oh, I don't know. My family! I was going to get married. I loved Isaac, I still do. It's not the same. Don't you understand!" I think that if, Q hadn't wrapped his arms around me, and held me for a couple minutes. I would have started trying to hit him, but since I couldn't move my arms, he was saved.

"I know this is hard, but we need you Christina. No one but you could do this. No one. We checked."

I stopped crying. I don't know why. I was still upset, but I knew, for now anyway, I would be okay. Only for now. "Q, I'm scared."

"I know. Everything will work out. Now, how about going back to The Hangout and getting your car. You don't want to walk tonight in four inch heels do you?"

I sighed, smiled, and watched Q disappear. "I can handle this," I told myself, but I didn't believe it.