Babylon Confidential

But, as we’ve all learned from the daytime soaps, when things are going well for too long disaster is bound to be lurking right around the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

This time, disaster had a name and a face.

Before I met him, if you’d told me that the devil had a Scottish accent I’d have thought you were pulling my chain.

Now I know better.

^{Standing in line with Andreas, Peter, and Mira. Season one of Babylon 5.}

^{The dreaded “Michelin Man” suit on the set of Babylon 5}

^{Fooling around with Jeff Conaway in the human makeup trailer}

^{With John Flinn at a party}

^{Sunbathing on one of Dodi’s yachts}

^{With Dodi. This was taken on the trip where he asked me to have his baby.}

^{One of the zillions of conventions I’ve attended!}

^{With my buddy, practical joker Jerry Doyle, on the set of Babylon 5}

^{Soaked in fake blood for “Between the Darkness and the Light,” the episode where my character, Susan Ivanova, is critically injured.}

^{With my sweet friend Pat Tallman. I’m grateful to have met her on Babylon 5.}

PART THREE Bad Medicine

9. HIGHLAND FLING

They may take our lives, but they’ll never take OUR FREEDOM!”

It was 1996, and Braveheart was the movie of the year. It blazed through the Academy Awards, sweeping up five Oscars, including best picture, and five additional nominations. It was a tragic, historical romance with an epic scope—easily one of my favorite films of all time. I saw the movie with my mom, and when the reluctant hero Robert the Bruce appeared on-screen, I turned to her and said, “God, I wish I could meet a man like that!” Especially as he was played with such smoldering intensity by green-eyed Scottish actor Angus Macfadyen.

A few months later I was having an early lunch with girlfriends on Sunset Plaza Drive when I saw Angus with Justin, an old friend of mine. Angus had a glass of white wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. It was noon. He caught me looking at him and started staring back. I was surprised by the intensity of his gaze. His eyes contained all the qualities that attracted me to his character in the film. I’d try to match him, to maintain eye contact, but then I’d get embarrassed and turn away. I rejoined my girlfriends’ conversation, trying to ignore him, but eventually I’d turn and look and our eyes would lock again.

I plucked up my courage and walked over to his table on the pretense of talking to my friend. It was very exciting—a big, heart-pounding moment.

Once I started speaking, cool, confident Claudia resurfaced. This guy was just another actor. I’d left Dodi Fayed, for God’s sake. This guy was small-fry by comparison. The three of us chatted. I flirted with Angus a little. Reassured that I was back in command of my senses, I said my goodbyes and headed back to my friends. Angus came up behind me and touched my arm. Everything else seemed to fade away.

“Claudia. Can I see you again?”

“Sure. Justin’s got my number.”

Cool. Calm. Collected. I walked away trying not to show the prickling of excitement that ran across my skin and made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

On the set of Babylon 5, I’d check my phone messages every half hour to see if he’d called. I went crazy waiting for him to call, and after a week I finally rang Justin.

“What’s going on? Why isn’t this guy calling me? I don’t normally have this problem!”

Justin explained that that was just Angus. He’d been holed up in his apartment for the last week drinking like a fish while he completed a series of paintings.

“Paintings? What’s he painting?”

“Oh, it’s depressing stuff. Really macabre. You know, the devil and all that.”

That should have set the warning bells ringing right then. A guy ignores you for a week because he’s too busy getting loaded and painting the devil. But looking at it through eyes dazzled by animal attraction, the image of the tortured artist not only seemed romantic but also bound Angus more tightly in my mind to the character of Robert the Bruce. I’d never met a man like Angus before—dark and brooding—the archetypical Scotsman. This was new and forbidden fruit.

I finally got a call from Angus, probably prompted by Justin, and we went out to dinner. It turned out we had very similar taste in literature, which is worth more to me than a super yacht and a solid-gold sink. He told me that he’d once been engaged to Catherine Zeta-Jones, before she came to America and became famous. Apparently, in her biography she claims that he was the best sex she ever had. I don’t know if I could make the same claim, but what he lacked in technique he made up for in enthusiasm. After making love we stayed up till four in the morning reciting poems from memory.

His favorite was Dylan Thomas’s “A Grief Ago,” which speaks of “hell wind and sea”—a wild, turbulent love.

I often recited Byron’s “When We Two Parted.”

In secret we met—
In silence I grieve,
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
After long years,
How should I greet thee?—
With silence and tears.