Chapter Seven

"Well, well. The infinite variety of nature is continually a surprise, wouldn't you agree, Peter?" The man sat back in his chair, fingers templed in front of him.

The lackey grunted, neither answering or relaxing his grip on the gun resting against General Damon's head.

The man sighed. "I suppose it is a bit much to expect scintillating conversation from someone like you anyway, Peter. But then I didn't hire you to think, not when I can do that for you."

He swiveled his chair towards Megabyte.

"Teleporters. My, my, how very science fiction it all sounds. Any sane man would have trouble believing the story you just told me," the man let his hands fall on his chest.

"Well, then you shouldn't have any trouble swallowing it," Megabyte muttered.

The man smiled, a chill, unpleasant smile that bothered Megabyte more than he cared to admit.

"Fortunately, I am in a position where I can not only believe what you say, but appreciate the value of it. After everything else I've seen, you're just one more novelty."

"Yippee," Megabyte said sarcastically.

"Is he always this sulky?" the man asked Damon.

"Frequently," the General answered.

"Ah, then I'll overlook it. So, Megabyte, what do you know about Immortals?"

"Nothing."

"What? No gasp of astonishment, no blank look? Strike one against you. If you're going to lie to me, try to be a bit better than that," the man said offhandedly.

Megabyte ground his teeth. He'd never felt such--such hate rise up in him as he did now. It was a pale shadow of what he'd felt for the alien species, the Nghara or even Masters. This man was very lucky that his being a Tomorrow Person prevented him from killing--especially with the thoughts he was entertaining now.

Slowly, he began, "I met an Immortal a few months back, accidentally. He happened to be at the right place at the right time."

"How so?" the other appeared intrigued.

"He saved my life as well as my Dad's."

"Did you catch his name perchance?"

Megabyte glared at the wall. The other clucked his tongue, "Peter."

The lackey took Damon by the collar, dragging him to his feet. The gun was hovering dangerously close to his ear.

"Richie Ryan," Megabyte closed his eyes.

A sharp intake of breath caused him to open his eyes. The other was studying him, then he began to laugh.

"How amusing. How perfectly convenient," he gasped.

Megabyte let his estimation of the man's sanity drop a few more notches.

The other subsided. "Tell me, did he mention the name Duncan MacLeod to you?"

Frowning, Megabyte replied, "I think so--his teacher, I think he said."

"Quite. It's Duncan MacLeod that I'm concerned with and you're going to help me."

"Yeah, right"

"Oh, but you will," the man gestured to Peter, who hauled Damon out the door.

"Hey!" Megabyte leapt to his feet.

"He'll be quite all right, I assure you. Please sit back down. I just thought it might be easier if we discussed this privately. You won't feel quite so pressured that way," the man was speaking as if this were a completely normal conversation.

Slouching back down, Megabyte watched the other man sullenly.

The man reached over his desk, removing a stack of folders from where they rested near the edge of it. During their 'talk', one of his men had brought them in but the other had displayed little interest in them until now. Selecting one, he pulled a slim sheet out, handing it to Megabyte. It was a glossy picture of dark-haired man standing on a street corner. There was something about the way the camera caught him, his stance, that told Megabyte that this was not your everyday person off the street.

"Recognize him?"

"Should I?" Megabyte snapped.

Unruffled, the man said, "That's Ryan's teacher, that's Duncan MacLeod.

Had Megabyte not been watching the other, he might have missed the fleeting look of absolute hatred ghosting the man's face. It made him shiver.

"He killed me, you know," the man continued.

Megabyte raised an eyebrow, "Funny, you look real lively for a dead guy."

The other laughed. "How refreshing. Did Richie say anything else about him?"

"Only that he was a friend, a good man," Megabyte said.

Actually, Richie had told that to Ami but he wasn't about to tell this guy that there were more Tomorrow People. Thus far, he'd tried to make it appear that he was the only one. A lone freak of nature. So far it seemed to be working, the man had raised no questions about it.

"A good man. A good man," the other seemed to see someone other than Megabyte, "That good man stabbed me twice--once with a sword in front of my own daughter and another time with a knife. Not only that, he subverted my brother-in-law into turning against me. He actually shot me, my good brother-in-law Joseph did. Well, that's family for you."

"I'm sure MacLeod had no reason for it," Megabyte said caustically.

"He thought he did. I killed an abomination like him, a malignance that had walked the earth in the flesh of a man for over fifteen hundred years. A pollution that dared hide itself on holy ground for protection. His friend," the other sneered, "the priestly Darius."

Megabyte began to feel a trifle sick at that point. "Why? What did he do to you?"

"Do to me? He existed. That was enough. This Game of theirs, do you know what its true purpose is?"

Mutely, he shook his head.

"To subvert mankind's true glory. To set themselves up as our masters. There is no glory that is not of our making. That is why they must be destroyed."

But you're not bitter, Megabyte thought.

The other seemed to calm himself. "But MacLeod, he is a special case. Understand, I take no joy in killing. It must be done if we are to save ourselves. This is a holy war, a war to save mankind from being dominated. But MacLeod... MacLeod, I will enjoy sending straight to Hell."

"Right."

"You don't believe me. Of course, why should you? We've only known each other a short time, yet I feel very close to you, Megabyte.

Lucky me, he thought. This guy was a raving loony.

"Through you," the other continued, "I will have the means to bring my vengeance to fruition."

"I told you, I can't kill anyone."

The other waved that off dismissively, "Kill anyone? Who said anything about you killing anyone? And have you deprive me of my pleasure? I wouldn't dream of it."

Good, Megabyte let out a silent sigh of relief.

"I just want to you to kidnap someone for me."

"What?!" he nearly shouted.

"Oh, excuse me, was I being unclear. I need you to--"

"I caught it the first time. I can't do that."

"Of course, you can. For a boy of your talents, it should be quite easy."

"No."

"May I remind you that you don't exactly have a choice." the other frowned.

The young American slumped, the fire going out of him.

"Better. MacLeod has a kinsman, Conner by name. Conner MacLeod was his teacher, and more importantly, his friend. MacLeod would do anything for him."

"So you want me to kidnap him?" Megabyte was surprised at how dead his voice sounded.

The other smiled slyly. "Good heavens, no. Conner MacLeod is quite a bit brighter than his kinsman and you're a terrible liar. He'd never let you get close enough to him."

"Then who?"

Another folder was pulled. The other passed it over to him. Megabyte opened it.

Catriona Fraser smiled out at him. The folder slid from nerveless fingers.

"You know her."

It wasn't a question but Megabyte strove to deny it. "No, I- -"

"Don't take me for a fool, Megabyte. While you were talking, I had my people doing some checking on you. Oh, this room is wired, by the way. If you think of escape, your father will be dead before you can find him."

"Several months back, you and a group of teenagers got involved with the investigation of several murders at Cambridge. Catriona Fraser was one of those teenagers."

Megabyte stared at his shoes.

"The others: Adam Newman and Jade Weston appeared several times in corroboration with yours in a series of rather interesting cases. As do the names, Ami Jackson, Kevin Wilson, and Lisa Davis."

"Davis and Wilson appear to be leading quiet lives in America and Britain. But the others--well I must say you have been busy. Teleporting teenagers saving the world. Anyone else would say it was pure science fiction. Everyone but you and I."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He had to admit, whoever this guy's sources were, they were good.

"Yes, you do. Did you really think you had tricked me into thinking you were the only one? Nature seldom creates isolated incidences. And with your abilities, it only stands to reason that there would be more of you, more genetic accidents."

"Gee, what a way to talk to someone you want to help you."

"Genetic accidents but you don't pose as near a threat as Immortals do. And you're still human, at least."

Megabyte wasn't buying it. Somehow, he knew that if this man were to rid the world of every single Immortal, the Tomorrow People would be next on his hit list.

"And Catriona Fraser? I would hazard a guess that she's a member of your little group as well."

Megabyte steadfastly refused to answer.

"I thought so. It might interest you to know that she's related to both MacLeods."

Megabyte's head snapped up.

"Oh, she didn't tell you? But then it appears that she hasn't been in contact with your little group for a few months now. Conner MacLeod claims to be her Uncle. From my intelligence reports, she appears to be quite," a look of distaste," fond of him."

"So?"

"So, you silly boy, I want her. She's my bait for Conner MacLeod. Once I have him, I can get Duncan"

"And what happens to her?"

"Oh nothing of any consequence; she gets to go home."

He was lying again, Megabyte could feel it. More likely than not, they'd all end up dead if this man had his choice.

"You must trust me, Megabyte. I swear that no harm will come to you."

Yeah and if you think I believe that then you're crazier than I thought, Megabyte said silently.

"And where am I supposed to find her? Like you said, I haven't seen her in a few months."

"That's the beauty of it, my dear boy. She's right here, in Glenfinnan."

Now, Megabyte knew he was going to be sick, preferably all over this psychopath's shoes.

"Who are you? Really?" the boy demanded suddenly. He didn't know why it seemed so vitally important to have a name for this monster.

The fanaticism burned in those blue eyes as the man considered it.

"Horton," he said slowly, distinctly, "James Horton, at your service."

Chapter Eight

Ami couldn't help but feel that somehow, somewhere, some higher power was getting a side-splitting laugh out of all this.

She leaned back, hands knotted together on the table. Across from her, Jade sat, quiet with barely concealed impatience. And beside the younger girl, Adam was staring off into space, face tight and near unreadable. Twice in the last ten minutes, she'd tried to talk with him, even brushing lightly against his mind but he had battened down all his hatches and wasn't letting anything out.

The tense atmosphere at the table made it impossible to enjoy her surroundings. After their chance encounter with Cat, they had gone on to 'Ami's restaurant' as Jade put it while Cat had gone to find accommodations for her horse. Privately, she wondered if the other girl would even return. Certainly, the few sentences they'd exchanged with her had given Ami the impression that she wasn't exactly thrilled to see them. From Adam's manner, she felt that he had come to the same conclusion.

She hadn't been with the others when they'd first met Catriona Fraser. What she knew of her came from Jade and Megabyte. She was reasonably sure that she'd never heard Adam speak of her. The impression that she gleaned from Jade was that Adam had been very fond of her. Her disappearance had caused Ami to dismiss her as another Lucy Allen although Jade had protested that. Still, the younger girl had never really been able to sufficiently explain just why Cat Fraser had disappeared, save to say that the other girl had needed to get away from London after everything that had happened. All right, Ami could grant her that but it still didn't explain her continued absence. Now that she'd actually seen the girl, seen Adam's reaction to her, and her to him, what she wanted to know was why.

Jade straightened. "There she is."

Ami half-turned in her seat. The first thing that struck her as she watched the other girl was her height. She made Ami feel like a pygmy, something she was unaccustomed to experiencing. Then there was that red-gold mane of hair that sparked copper, roan, and strawberry in the light. The face underneath the hair was equally striking. Cat Fraser was not beautiful in any conventional sense of the word. Her face was, perhaps, just a bit too strong for that with its wide cheekbones, long straight nose, and oval contours tapering off into a point. She was pretty but no more so than any other girl Ami had ever seen. Yet there was something about her that made an impression, perhaps her eyes. The arching slant of them gave her a slightly exotic look, the gray of them so deep that they almost seemed to be blue. Those feline eyes were scanning the room, a slight tightening of her jaw as she spotted them. But Ami had to give her credit; she didn't run off as it was very evident she wanted to but seemed to resign herself as she headed their way.

They all stood as she reached the table and that seemed to discomfit her even more. As they sat, Ami noticed that neither Cat or Adam were directly looking at each other. Jade was watching the unfolding tableau, drumming her long fingers against the table. No one seemed incline to say anything, the tension in the air thickening as it settled over the table.

Enough is enough, Ami thought in disgust. Swiveling herself towards the end of the table where Cat was sitting, she extended her hand, "We haven't been introduced. I'm Ami."

Her grip was firm as she took Ami's hand, "Cat. Pleased ta meet ye, Ami."

Ami nodded. "Likewise. I've heard a lot about you."

Cat darted an unreadable glance at Adam from under veiled lids.

"Indeed." It was one word but it spoke volumes.

"I didn't know you were in Glenfinnan, Cat. Whatever are you doing here?" Jade spoke up.

Something shifted in the other girl's face, indicating that this topic wasn't much better than the other, "I 'ave family up here."

"Frasers?"

"MacLeods," she gave a short laugh, "Ye might say I've 'ad a bit o' a falling out wi' the Fraser side o' my family.

"Oh."

"Now I 'ave a question for ye: What are ye doin' here?"

That was a challenge if Ami had ever heard one. She felt her eyebrows raising. Cat was not turning out to be exactly what she had been expecting. Well, actually she wasn't sure what she was expecting. The Scottish girl's unequivocal directness was definitely not it though.

"You aren't glad to see us?" Adam's voice was so quiet that Ami could scarcely hear him.

"No, it's no' that," Cat replied immediately, "It's just-- I canna deny it's a bit of shock ta suddenly have ye pop up in m' backyard, so ta speak."

Brown eyes met gray ones and something seemed to pass between them. But it came and went so fast that Ami only noticed its passing when it was already gone. Some of the tension seemed to go out of the Scots girl and her voice was warmer when she said, "I am glad ta see ye--all o' ye. But what brings ye ta Glenfinnan?"

The other three TP exchanged a long look which Cat followed. "Oh, I see. Trouble, is it no'?

"You could say that," Jade replied.

"Actually, it's rather lucky we ran into you," Ami interjected smoothly, "You've lived here awhile, haven't you? A few months anyway, I bet. You know the terrain fairly well?."

"Aye, that I do."

"Good then you can help us find Megabyte and his father. They've been kidnapped," Ami continued matter-of-factly.

"What?! Cat exploded, "Why did ye no' say somethin' sooner? When did this happen?"

"I take it that means you'll help us." Ami said blandly.

"Help ye? Of course I will. What--" a look of realization crossed her face, "Of course! The tourists. What a bloody idiot I am. Cousin Rachel's missing tourists."

"Cousin Rachel?" Adam and Jade echoed.

"My father's first cousin from my grandmother's side," Cat waved a hand dismissively, "Do ye 'ave any idea o' who might 'ave them? Does WorldEx ken?"

"To answer your first question: no. And I'm sure by this time someone has contacted WorldEx," Ami replied.

"Are there no' any clues?"

Jade suddenly began shuffling through her pockets. The others looked at her curiously.

"Jade?" Adam asked.

She dropped something on the table. It clattered and spun to a shiny stop.

A bullet.

"Where did ye get this?" Cat held it up.

"Your cousin's field. I just happened to look down and there it was," Jade shrugged with feigned nonchalance.

"Well, then that proves that it wasn't another Imm-" Ami shut her mouth. She was fairly certain that Cat didn't know about Immortals and she felt distinctly uncomfortable about disclosing Richie's secret to someone she just met, Tomorrow Person or not.

Then again, if she was going to help them, it was only fair that they let her in on what was going on.

"Was no' another what?" Cat asked.

Adam had evidently come to the same conclusion as Ami. "Not here. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

"But we just got here," Jade protested.

Three pairs of eyes rested on her. She sighed, "Never mind."

"Aye, I 'ave a place no' far from 'ere," she pushed her chair back from the table, "And Cousin Rachel lent me her car."

"Right. Although, I think we'll wait 'til we get to your place before we tell you," Ami said.

"Why?" Cat asked.

"Because I don't think your cousin would like it if you crashed her car," Adam replied.

"That bad?"

"Worse."

*****

Gripping the sides of the car, Ami gritted her teeth, wishing that Highland roads were a sight better than they were. Or that Cat didn't drive quite so fast. Bracing herself as they rounded another corner at breakneck speed, she began to think that her cousin's shower didn't look that bad after all.

Up front, Cat and Adam were talking, their tones low as if they were speaking of something important rather than the weather or the condition of the roads. Their efforts were tentative, each unsure of the other. She sighed. They'd sort it out--eventually.

Then there was Jade who was being abnormally quiet for a change and that bothered Ami more than the little drama being enacted up front.

/Something wrong?/ She brushed the younger girl's thoughts.

Starting, Jade raised her face towards Ami as if in surprise. She'd obviously been lost in her own little world.

/What? Oh sorry, I wasn't paying that much attention./

/So I noticed. What's on your mind?/

/Why would an Immortal use a gun on another Immortal? It runs contrary to the rules of their...Game. /

/Well, Richie did say that not all of the Immortals played by the rules./

/Yeah but someone is playing very fast and loose with the rules here. Think about it, Ami. If you were an Immortal, what would be the last thing you'd want?/

/Having my head cut off?/ she gave Jade a mental tweak.

Jade rolled her eyes. /Besides that./

Ami frowned, unsure of where this was going. / Um, attention?/

/Exactly. So why go to all the trouble of fighting a duel outside of an inn of all places, then shooting your target?/

/We don't know that there was a duel--/

/All right, then a struggle. That man did not go quietly. And then why go to the trouble of kidnapping two tourists? That just attracts tons of attention. The logical alternative would be to kill them. It doesn't make sense./ Ami didn't exactly like the cold-blooded way Jade was dissecting the scenario. It was helpful but to call murder a logical alternative made her blood run cold.

/I don't know why. I'm glad that the kidnapper didn't follow your logical alternative./ Ami 'pathed.

Flashing her a reproving look, Jade 'pathed /I'm glad as well but it still doesn't make sense. And that worries me most of all./

*****

"Weel, 'ere we are, home sweet home. For now at least," Cat held the door for them.

Ami gratefully stepped into the warm, snug apartments. After the chill afternoon, the waves of heat caressing her skin was beyond bliss.

"Odd," she heard Cat mutter. Slitting one eye open, Ami glanced over at her.

Adam gave her a sharp look. "What is?"

"I dinna remember leavin' the heat on. Ah weel, I must be goin' daft in my auld age. Come along. I canna have ye catchin' yer death standing out here all night, can I?" she dismissed it.

Or at least she appeared to dismiss it. Ami couldn't help but notice the thoughtful narrowing of her gray eyes as she helped Jade peel her damp coat off. Chewing the inside of her lip, Ami began to noticed something flickering across her consciousness. Random skims of thought, of energy that disquieted her. Cat must have picked up on it as well for her eyes narrowed even further.

"What is tha'?" the Scots girl asked. She took a few steps toward the living room area which lay half-visible before them.

A sick feeling settled in Ami's stomach. She'd experienced this kind of psychic aura before. In London, a few months ago, just after she met Richie. Only, if anything, it was stronger than Richie's own unique aura, flickers of it washing into her mind, becoming clearer by the moment.

Which meant they had company. Long-lived company.

Clutching the sides of her arms, Ami whispered, "I think we have company."

Sharply, Cat diverted her gaze towards her. Ami met her questioning gaze silently. Then the Scots girl slid over the umbrella stand, drawing out a long shiny handle.

Of a long metal bat.

Hefting it aloft, Cat took a step forward.

"You can't mean to use that?" Ami demanded, moving forward to catch her arm.

The other girl gave her a thin smile. "They dinna know tha', do they?"

Ami relaxed. "Well, I suppose not--"

"Besides, I willna do too much damage. Trust me," Cat let her teeth show as she slipped out of Ami's relaxed hold.

Now, there's a comforting thought, Ami made no effort to conceal her exasperation.

The redhead paused, flashing her an amused look. If the situation hadn't been so precarious, Ami would have sworn she was laughing. There was that quality to her 'pathed /Stay here./

/Yeah, right/ Jade 'pathed derisively. /If you think you're going in there alone, then you really have gone daft./

Jade flinched at the slate-eyed glare she was given.

/Jade's right/ Adam 'pathed firmly. /Either we all go in there or none of us do./

/Now wait a minute--/

Her protest was half-formed when a fair-haired, augular-faced man appeared in the door space of the living room. Cat stared at him, the blood draining from her face. Ami noticed the flare of recognition in the other's eyes. The man fixed on the bat in her hands.

"For me, niece? And here I thought you'd gotten over that incident with the shaving cream," the man sounded highly amused.

The bat slid from her hands, striking the floor with a loud clatter.

Niece?, Ami thought, wondering if she'd heard aright.

A stream of musical sounding gibberish issued from Cat's mouth. The man laughed, a strange staccato laugh.

"Now, my dear, you shouldn't use such language. I doubt that you even know half of what you're saying. At least I hope you don't. Are you going to make me regret teaching you the Gaelic?"

Ami was at a total loss.

"What are you doing here?" Cat sputtered, in English this time, "I thought-- I... Why did ye no' say ye were comin' ahead o' time? What did ye mean by sneaking in 'ere and frightenin' the life out o' us, ye auld corbie."

"Auld?" he sounded hurt, "Hardly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you weren't glad to see me."

"Dinna be an idiot," she chided him, "Of course I'm glad ta see ye but tha' doesn't mean I'm happy with ye breaking inta my home."

"Cat--?" Adam began somewhat uncertainly.

"What?" she started as if remembering that she wasn't alone, "Oh, sorry. I suppose some introductions are in order, are they no'?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking," the man said blandly. Cat darted a glance at him then started laughing. Peals upon peals of delighted laughter. She all but threw herself on him, laughter increasing as he whirled her around.

"Och, it's so good ta see you," she gasped, still wheezing with laughter as soon as he put her down.

"Aye and you, lass," the man clasped her to him in a bear hug.

Ami felt out of place, a regular third wheel at this reunion. She could tell the others felt the same.

Cat seemed to sense this for she broke free long enough to link her arm with the man's and lead him over. She gave him a warm, loving smile as she turned to the others saying, "Guys, this is my Uncle, Conner MacLeod."

Chapter Nine

Conner MacLeod wasn't a big believer in coincidences. Things happened for a reason. Whether that reason was obvious or not was beside the point.

So when he'd driven into Glenfinnan that very day only to learn of a murder that had occurred the day before, his first thought was that timing was no coincidence. This was only further strengthened by the revelation that the victim had died by beheading.

Immortals, here in Glenfinnan. So much for a warm homecoming. It was enough to make one laugh or weep.

But he didn't have time to do either.

C'est la vie.

*****

"Conner, what are ye doing 'ere? Last I heard ye were in New York," Cat demanded, breaking the bone crushing embrace she had him in.

He smiled fondly at her. It was always a marvel for him to see her again, to covertly study all the tiny ways she'd grown and changed since they'd last met. In some ways, his 'niece' still seemed like the little girl he'd met in Marion Fraser's garden that spring day twelve years ago. Then he would look at her again to see the changes time was wreaking on her. One moment she had been a chubby eight year old tearing through her grandmother's flowers, uprooting them as she went. Then she had grown into a coltish teenager, more serious, more prone to mood changes, her slender body acquiring the curves of womanhood, and seeming to add an inch to her height each month. Now the promise of adulthood had been achieved, her face devoid of baby fat, voice softer, throatier. And yet she was always his girl, his 'niece' no matter what changes occurred.

And that was the crux of it, he decided.

She'd always be his little Catriona even when her hair had gone white, even when wrinkles changed the planes of her face once again. Just as Heather had always been his bonny wife, his friend, and lover. And the hell of it was this was going to hurt just as much as watching Heather growing older, knowing with each day he was going to lose her eventually and to know that there was nothing he could do about it. He had fought and beaten the Kurgan who had been considered by many to be the strongest of their kind, survived five hundred years of Immortal existence and he could not help his mortal kin and friends fight their own personal battle with an enemy that he, himself, was not immune to. He could offer his niece his protection, could die in her defense a hundred times but he couldn't save her from age, from disease. All he could do was watch.

'Take care of her, Conner, please...' Marion had pleaded.

I kept my promise and I keep it still, he pledged silently to the phantom rising up before him, God help us both.

Even if he hadn't always executed it as well as he should have.

Who could have known that one dance would have led to so much?

*****

New Year's Eve, 1924
Inverness, Scotland

"Ah, MacLeod, there you are. I was beginning to think you'd ducked out on us," Hugh Fitzcairn sounded chiding as Conner descended from the staircase.

"And miss one of your parties, Fitz? I think not. I still can't believe you got married," Conner clapped a brotherly arm around him.

Fitz's broad, rugged face became filled with the light of lust--er, love, Conner amended. Then again, knowing Fitz, he probably had it right the first time.

"Isn't she exquisite?" he breathed, "The perfect woman, so gentle, so brilliant, so beautiful..."

"She is very beautiful," Conner agreed carefully. He'd met the lady in question and hadn't been favorably impressed. Actually, she struck Conner as a conniving gold digger but if she made Fitz happy, who was he to argue?

"Beautiful? She's a goddess. Perfect in every way," Fitz expanded.

He had to repress a grin. This time Fitz seemed to have fallen hard, although he wondered just how long this complete and utter devotion of his would last. Probably about as long as it takes another interesting skirt to flirt by, he conceded.

"So what shall we do first tonight? Drinking, dancing? Do you know that my angel has hired a band for us to perform with," Fitz continued.

"I notice you left off, pardon the term, "wenching". If I didn't know you any better, I'd almost think you'd been reformed, old friend."

"Oh I have. Completely and utterly." Fitz declared though Conner noticed his eyes watching the progress of a shapely maid across the lobby of the Seville.

"Of course you have," Conner muttered then laughed.

"You sound just like Mac. He doesn't believe me either," Fitz replied injured.

"It's not that we don't believe you, Fitz. It's that we know you. Speaking of Duncan, where is he? I thought he'd be here."

"Paris. Something about helping a woman get a place studying opera from one of New York's finest," Fitz waved it off, "You know Mac; he's always helping some damsel in distress."

Conner nodded, disappointed. His kinsman had written him, mentioning that he planned to be there. Trust something to come up; at least it was a mortal he was dealing with..

A waiter was passing by when Fitz accosted him, removing two wine glasses. "A toast to Mac. May he always be the ladies' favorite knight in shining armor."

Lifting his glass, Conner let his eyes drift across the crowd. He had to hand it to Fitz; the flamboyant Immortal had managed to gather an assortment of Europe's finest all under one roof. Just how he managed to do it was something Conner was dying to know.

"Conner MacLeod, what a pleasant surprise," a disheveled, visibly excited young man interrupted his thoughts.

"William Yeats, good to see you again. Congratulations on winning the Nobel Prize last year. If anyone deserved it, it was you," Conner shook the proffered hand.

"I thank ye, sir," the Irish in Yeats' voice thickened noticeably, "Here ta see the happy couple off, are ye? And congratulations ta ye sir, she's a lovely woman."

Fitz beamed.

"I didn't know you two were friends," Conner commented. The English rogue and the Irish poet did make an unlikely pair.

"Oh my, yes. We met at Lady Augusta Wilde's--"

"My patroness, in case ye do not remember," Yeats interrupted.

"--estate two summers back. William was putting the finishing touches on that masterpiece of his but I managed to persuade him to put it aside long enough for a little expedition," Fitz continued.

"In which we finally ended up in a pub after an afternoon of hunting," A frown creased Yeat's forehead, "I still don't remember much of what happened after that."

"Neither do I," Fitz admitted, "but I'm sure it was diverting to say the least. We simply must do it again some time."

"I'll hold ye ta it, then," Yeats smiled.

"Done." Fitz shook his hand heartily to seal the bargain.

Conner rolled his eyes. Fitz had barely been married a day and already he was planning his next escapade. Naturally. I wonder how long that before the honeymoon is over in earnest, he thought.

He might have comment on it but his attention was suddenly arrested elsewhere--

--on the lovely flame-haired beauty that had just stepped into the ballroom. She stood straight, her tiny form a study of grace in repose, long hair curling around her white neck, with only her blue eyes giving away any uncertainty. They swept over the room until they came to rest on him.

For a moment, time was a thing that poets such as Yeats invented.

"I say, MacLeod, are you paying attention?" Fitz sounded annoyed, "What is so bloody interesting-- Oh I see."

"O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes/ The poets labouring all their days/ To build a perfect beauty in rhyme/ Are overthrown by a woman's gaze," Yeats recited softly.

"I say that was rather good. Byron, perchance?" Fitz asked interestedly.

"William Butler Yeats," the Irishman said self-consciously, " One of my older poems, 'He tells of the Perfect Beauty.' It seemed appropriate."

"I shall have to try that one out on my angel. Providing you don't mind?" Fitz added as an afterthought.

"If it brings ye joy to use it, then please do. Poetry is meant ta be shared, not hoarded away in dusty tomes."

"Quite."

"Who is she?" MacLeod wondered before realizing he'd voiced his thought aloud.

"I'm going to surprise you and tell you that I know her," Fitz grinned.

Conner cast a jaundiced eye at him, "Just how intimately?"

"MacLeod, I'm surprised at you. I only met her a week ago. I am a married man, after all. Now I'll admit, in the past, the answer to that would have been different, of course, but I can assure you that I know her in the strictest sense of the word platonic."

"Really? Maybe there's hope for you yet, Fitzcairn."

"I'm rather surprised that you don't know her. She's of your clan."

"So are hundreds of other people. That doesn't mean I know them all. Besides, I don't go home all that often."

"Her name's Marion, Marion MacLeod. She was on the steamer that brought my bride and myself over. Absolutely charming girl. She's been in Paris for the season. Why such a rose as she decided to come back to such a primitive place as this is beyond my comprehension," Fitz sniffed.

"If you don't like it then why have your wedding here?" MacLeod replied tartly.

"The hunting," Fitz said it like he couldn't believe he had to explain, "I can't stay in bed all the time, can I? Have to have something else to do, don't I?"

"How about getting to know your wife," Conner quipped.

"Conner!" Fitz reacted as if he'd uttered a sacrilege

Yeats laughed. So did Conner. Fitz appeared wounded.

"Do you want to know about her or not?" the Englishman snapped.

"A trifle testy, is he no'?" Yeats observed.

"I think he's having a delayed reaction to getting married. His mind can't take the strain."

"Jealousy rears its ugly head, eh, MacLeod?" Fitz was the picture of affronted dignity, "But since this is the happiest day of my life, I'll try to find it in my heart to overlook your cheekery."

"You're all heart, Fitz."

Fitz ignored the sarcasm inherent in that statement. "I am, aren't I? As I was saying, the young lady has returned in the company of her father. From what I've gathered, she appears to be unattached. How long it remains to be so, " he stole a sly look at Conner, "remains to be seen."

"Anyone ever tell you that you can be insufferably smug sometimes?" Conner asked in spite of himself.

"Frequently. And if you do get the girl, you'll owe me one for a change," the other Immortal turned to Yeats, clapping him on the back, "Let's let our lovestruck friend here try his luck. Come along and you can play Cyrano for me. I just know that my angel would adore hearing some of your poetry. From my lips, of course."

They shuffled off, Yeats looking a bit pained as Fitz began outlining his idea. Conner shook his head. Poor William. After an hour of reciting poetry to that tart, the poet would be more than ready to get on the next steamer back to Ireland.

Marion had begun circulating through the crowd, her sapphire eyes touching upon him every so often. Each time they did so he felt a wave of warmth wind its way through him. He began mirroring her movements, working his way through the milling people, occasionally stopping to exchange pleasantries. Her eyes twinkled, a small smile appearing as they each took another step in the game they were playing. To the average observer, it would appear that nothing out of the ordinary was going on when in reality a subtle dance was being performed.

Then the visiting Prime Minister accosted him. With genuine regret, Conner directed his attention to the older man he'd known for some time. He liked James MacDonald, thought he was competent as a Prime Minister but the man had no sense of timing. He jabbered on and on, seemingly oblivious to the tension radiating from the Immortal. Conner, after a few desperate minutes, tore his attention away and glanced out. There was no sign of the woman who'd piqued such an immediate interest. Like so many things in his Immortal life, she'd been there one minute and gone the next.

*****

"How did things go?" Yeats asked as the poet joined the immortal from his position near the band.

"What?" MacLeod said shortly.

"The girl, I-- Oh, things did no' turn out as ye had hoped?"

"You could say that. I lost her in the crowds," Conner said glumly.

"I'm sorry," Yeats said simply, "Tis said that we only touch each others lives briefly."

"I didn't even get a chance to talk with her. I hardly think this constitutes touching someone's life."

"She made an impression on ye, did she no'?"

"Well, yes."

"Then she did touch your life. Albeit fleetingly."

"I'll take your word for it. Ah, it's probably for the best anyway. How did you manage to get away from Fitz?"

"Very carefully. I disappeared as soon as he looked the other way. Tha' woman of his..." Yeats shuddered, "Fair face hiding a false heart. I cannot see there being any happiness for poor Hugh in that marriage."

"Nor I. But we have to give him room to make his own mistakes. And what can she do to him? Kill him?"

Yeats laughed. "That does seem unlikely, does it no'. Still the woman is a pit viper and 'tis glad I am that I made good on my escape while I could."

Conner smiled. "How would you like to go find a nice friendly pub, William, and leave these stiff-upper lippers behind?"

"I'd be delighted, my friend but I must respectfully decline."

"Huh?" Conner looked at him in surprise.

"I believe that there is someone else who wants a word with you," Yeats nodded indicating some point behind Conner.

He pivoted around and found himself once more staring into clear blue eyes.

"Mr. MacLeod, I was wonderin' how ye feel about a dance," she said crisply.

"How--"

"I asked Mr. Fitzcairn, sir. Well, do ye or do ye no' want ta dance?" she said with an air of determination.

"Oh, he does indeed. I'm sure he'll agree once he gets over his fit of speechlessness," Yeats gave Conner a push, "Go on, lad. Don't keep the young lady waiting."

Yeats watched as a triumphant young lass pulled her conquest towards the floor. He laughed gently, "For she had fiery blood/ When I was young,/And trod so sweetly proud/ As 't were upon a cloud."

*****

"I was so nervous tha' I didna think I would be able ta walk up ta ye much less speak," she said later as they swung around the empty ball room.

It was near morning, the room vacant of all save them and the band which was valiantly still playing. He accounted that more to all the money Fitz had waved in their face than any romantic sentiments on their part.

"You could have fooled me. You didn't seem the least bit nervous," MacLeod replied with a laugh.

"That's why I was clutching the sides o' my gown so tightly, my hands were shakin'. Father would be furious if he knew I'd ventured ta invite a man to dance instead o' waitin' as a proper lady should."

"This is the twenties. And I've met women a great deal more forward than you. I think your father can safely count his daughter among the virtuous still."

Her laugh fell like music upon the ears and his heart warmed to hear it. Most of the night had been spent dancing and talking. Marion had just turned twenty, was the daughter of a prominent Edinburgh businessman with ties all over Europe. She found Paris faster than she had dreamed and looked forward to her next visit. She was fascinated by travel in general and wanted to visit among other places Kenya, India, and America. Secretly, she harbored the desire to act but as realistic enough to know that her father would disown her if she took up such a profession. Her favorite color was emerald; the music of Caruso moved her. She wept at "Madame Butterfly" and loved the works of Keats and Shelley.

His own answers had been more guarded, more carefully worded. He had to keep on constant watch for she was so beguiling that there was a very real possibility that she might worm out of him something she had no need to know. Like his Immortality, the Game, and not necessarily in that order.

If she noticed his reserve, she said nothing of it, choosing instead to ask his opinions on a range of varying subjects. What did he think of motion pictures? Was Britain in a suitable state to run itself, much less its vast Empire? What was his opinion of the new cubisitic movement in art? And so on and so forth. He hadn't talked this much with a woman since...well, since Heather.

Strangely enough, he found that the thought of his first love, his first wife, didn't rouse in him the feelings of guilt he usually got when he became intimate with women. Heather, he felt quite strongly, would have liked Marion.

He knew he did.

She rested her face against his shoulder. Her voice was muffled as she said, "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"The moment is forever."

"Lovely sentiments. Too bad the night isna so forgivin'. Look."

They turned their faces towards the windows where the sky was slowly shedding its blue shroud, the stars fading to pinpricks as the horizon dulled to a faint gray light. His hold on her tightened perceptibly. Almost as one they turned towards each other, leaning forward that fraction by mutual consent 'til their lips met. His hands locked in her red hair, causing it to spill from it's careful coif. It seemed like an eternity but it was only moments later that she pulled back.

"I must go. Father will kill me if he learns I havena been ta bed this night," she said regretfully.

She easily slipped from his arms. The ache in his throat made it hard to speak, "When can I see you again?"

Pausing by the door, she smiled a sweet, slow smile, "Come ta tea tomorrow. I'm sure Father will want ta meet ye."

A moment she paused then was gone with a flirt of her emerald and ivory dress.

*****

January 20, 1924

"What's the matter, MacLeod? Afraid o' heights?" Marion called as she scampered up the rocky hill.

"No. But I like having my neck intact," he said ironically. That had more implications than just breaking his neck. A much more important implication.

The katana in his overcoat rustled against him, another ever constant reminder of those implications. Even now, on this remote Scottish hill, far from the city, the details of his existence found a way to insinuate themselves. Well, for once, all that was going to take a backseat. It was a fine, brisk morning, the sky clear of any and all clouds. And the view was spectacular in more ways than one, he thought sneaking a glance at Marion.

So here he was, home again, not a care in the world, and a beautiful woman to keep him company. Who was he to pass up what Fate had kindly thrown his way?

"Conner, are ye coming or no'?"

Grinning, he scurried up the hill, picnic basket threatening to throw him off balance. In spite of that, however, he managed to make it up to where Marion was surveying the country below them. He set the basket down, drawing up behind her and letting his arms encircle her waist. She leaned against him.

Her voice was quiet, even a bit awed as she said, "It's so lovely up 'ere."

He had to agree. Scotland on a sunny day was a glimpse of nature at its finest. Below them, the ground rolled and dipped, glowing with absolute purity as snow from the night before dusted the earth. Craggy granite jutted out, strange guardians of the landscape. A brilliant blue winter horizon smiled down up on them, sun lightly caressing the back of their necks.

Watching her, Conner marveled at how strong his feelings had grown for her in a little more than two weeks time. At times, it seemed he ate, breathed, and dreamed about her. Only the waking hours they spent together was better than any dream. Fitz claimed that she must have put some sort of bewitchment on him for he had never seen a man fall as hard and as fast as Conner had. Except, Fitz amended, not to be outdone, when he had seen his angel for the first time. The Highlander didn't exactly care for the comparison between the new Mrs. Fitzcairn and Marion but his mood had been to good to spoil.

Standing here with her, he truly felt like he had come home. And he hadn't felt that since he lost Heather. For the first time, the urge to wander was utterly banished

Remarkable.

"So where's this cabin o' Fitz's?" she asked, having picked up on Conner's use of Fitzcairn's nickname.

"Just a bit further up. Are you ready to go inside already?"

"It is a bit chilly," Marion admitted.

She was decidedly not dressed for a winter tramp through the snow. They were supposed to be at Fitz's. At least that was what her father believed. Both of them had felt the oppressive weight of parental scrutiny heavily in the last few weeks. While William MacLeod was genial and polite to Conner at every turn, he obviously did not trust his daughter's virtue in the Highlander's hands.

Conner couldn't decide if he was affronted or secretly amused with the old man.

Amusing or not, however, the constant shadowing was wearing thin and not only to him. He caught Marion in several 'discussions' already with her father over the matter. The old man held firm.

But the two had help from an unlikely source: Hugh Fitzcairn.

The Immortal had decided to personally champion the couple. Conner wasn't sure if marriage had made the Englishman generous or if he was planning to take it out of him later. Surprisingly enough though, Fitz had come up with the brilliant idea of having his wife extend an invitation to the country estate where the newly married couple had taken up temporary residence. And if Conner just happened to show up, paying a visit to the couple while Marion was there... As Fitz said, with an angelic countenance, it was all happenstance and chance that they should be there together.

Right.

It was a good plan and might have gone off without a hitch save for one small detail: Mrs. Hugh Fitzcairn. The woman was annoying; more than annoying. After an hour in her presence, Marion had started giving long thoughts to driving herself back to Inverness and she had never driven a motorcar in life!

So in the most diplomatic terms possible, Conner had couched a plea to borrow the hunting lodge behind the estate. For privacy, he'd plead.

Fitz had gotten the idea almost immediately.

And here they were. The lodge was a rustic affair that proved to be quite opulent upon entry. Trust Fitzcairn to make sure his personal comfort went above and beyond the call of duty. The place was also cold but that problem was easily solved. As he set to work with the fireplace, Marion placed the basket on the rough table, asking, "Are you hungry?"

Brushing himself off, he stood feeling the wood slowly warm, "Famished."

"Good. So am I," she promptly glued herself to him.

The wood wasn't the only thing in the room getting hot.

"That wasn't quite what I meant," Conner said against her lips.

"Wasn't it?" she teased, lips traveling along his jawline.

"On second thought..." he began to amend.

That was the last thing he said for quite some time.

***** "What are ye thinkin', Conner?" Marion whispered as she snuggled against him in the split darkness.

"I think that your father would kill you if he had any idea where you were at the moment."

She giggled. "Aye but he doesna, does he? Are ye complainin'? I can leave if ye wish."

"If you even think about it, I'll put you over my knee," he threatened.

"What an interesting idea," she purred archly.

"And you a good Catholic girl? I'm not sure which one of us should be blushing at the suggestion," he teased.

"I'll give ye somethin' ta blush o'er," She kissed him, soundly and for a while, talking was the least of their concerns.

After a bit, she drew back, voice serious as she spoke, "Conner, ye love me, do ye no'?"

"Aye, I do," he planted a kiss on her arm.

She relaxed, "That's good."

There was a uneasy pause. Something wasn't being said, he realized. He sat up, "What?"

"Father mentioned goin' back to Edinburgh soon," she plucked at the sheets.

"When?"

"Another week or so."

He sat back thoughtfully, "Why? I thought he had planned to stay for the rest of the season?"

"Things change." She wasn't looking at him, body taunt as she hugged her knees.

"What things?" he asked warily.

"Simon Fraser has asked Father for my hand," her voice was tiny.

"I see," his voice was still, unemotional.

"I told him I dinna wish ta marry Fraser, that in the twenties a girl should be allowed ta choose her own husband," he could see the half-smile on her face.

"What did he say to that?" Though Conner could well imagine.

"That he didna care if it was 2224, I was still his daughter and I'd do as he said or I might keep an overdue appointment with a strap across the bum," she replied wryly.

"So you're getting married?" Conner couldn't bring himself to look at her. His throat felt tight and everything in him was rebelling against the calm demeanor he was displaying.

He heard rather than saw her frown, "Well, I was rather hopin' ye could help me with that."

He did look at her then and the hopeful glittering of her eyes made his heart twist. "Marion, don't."

"Don't what? Ye did say that ye love me, did ye no'?" she demanded.

"I do love you but I cannot marry you. For your sake, I cannot marry you now or ever," Conner said.

"Aye but ye'll bed me, is that it?" she threw the covers off and got up.

He came around and took her shoulders. "Marion, you don't understand--"

She slapped him. The whipcrack sound echoed through the room.

"What was this ta ye? A game? Just a ploy ta get me inta bed?" she was white with anger, "Ye could have asked me, ye didna need ta go ta all this trouble."

"Marion...."

Suddenly, she slapped him again, "Why? Why? Why? Ye cold- hearted, connivin'--"

Conner took her by the wrist and shook her. "Stop it."

She struggled against his hold, "Let me go, ye cad."

"Not until you listen to me," he threw her back on the bed.

"Conniving, I might be. A cad--well, that may also be true. But if I'd only wanted to bed you, I'd have had you on your back a dozen times before this."

"The hell ye would," she flared.

"The hell I would," he agreed, jerking her to her feet. She couldn't break the hold he had on her and that revelation caused her to sag.

"Then why?" her voice was hurt.

"Marion, you're a spoiled, selfish brat sometimes but in spite of that, I happen to care very deeply about you. Enough not to marry you."

A frown creased her smooth forehead. "I-I dinna understand."

He bent down and retrieved his overcoat, removing his katana from its secret place. The firelight serrated the serene silver of the blade, bloodying it.

It was about to get bloodier.

Marion flinched at the sight of it, "Wh-what are ye going ta do with that."

"You wanted blood a moment ago. Here take this and let me give you your wish," he wound her hands around the base of the hilt.

"Have ye gone mad?" she gasped as he let the blade rest against his abdomen, the length of it resting in his hands.

"I am Conner MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. I was born in Glenfinnan, on the shores of Loch Shiel in 1518. And I am Immortal," he punctuated the last word by thrusting the sword through himself.

Marion screamed.

The pain was immediate and excruciating, even when Marion hastily withdrew it. She knelt down, cradling his head in her lap, holding his hand and rocking as she cried, "Conner. Conner, dinna die on me. Dinna die."

"I love you," he said as the light faded and the world fell away.

*****

Marion was weeping.

His body arched up as life flowed back into it, lungs near bursting from lack of air. Blood ran once again as his heart started its natural, rhythmic pumping again. Pain momentarily zinged through him as his systems restarted.

Marion was weeping.

The sound was the first he noticed. That and the tiny shriek she gave as he lurched back into consciousness. His head thudded against the floor as she scrambled backwards.

Conner winced and rolled onto his side. Marion stared at him from her refuge in the corner of the room, eyes widened in shock or fear. He couldn't tell which.

"How? Ye're dead! I saw..." Her voice was wavery, near shrill. He reached out a hand towards her but she shrank from him. The hand fell away. His voice was resigned as he said, "I cannot die."

"Explain this," she commanded, feminine curiosity overruling her fear.

And so he told her. All of it. About the his first "death", about the Kurgan, and Rameriez and Heather. About the Game. Everything. By the end, she was sitting beside him, his hand wrapped tightly in two of hers. Her blue eyes were thoughtful throughout the tale and he couldn't read what she was thinking beyond that. Finally, she asked, "Is it out o' loyalty ta Heather that ye will no' remain with me?"

He was surprised and a little stung by the question. "Heather has nothing to do with us."

"Does she no'? I wonder how I could 'ave ever measured up," she said at last.

"Leave her out of this," his voice was colder than he intended.

"Then why will ye no' give me the chance ye gave her?"

"You deserve a family, to have someone to grow old with. It was what Heather deserved and it was the one thing I couldn't give her," he said, tone soft with regret.

"I dinna imagine she complained," she squeezed his hand, "Why can ye no' be my family? If I have ye, I willna have any need for anythin' else."

"Because," he stroked her cheek, "I can't subject you to that slow torture. No, you'll go home and you'll marry Simon Fraser and have a house full of children. And you'll be happy."

"Don't I even 'ave a choice in the matter?" Tears were dangerously close to the surface again.

"No. I know you don't believe it now but I--"

"Ye love me. And out o' pighead nobility, ye're going ta ruin both our lives," she shook her head ruefully, "If I didna love ye, I swear I'd kill ye right now. As it is, I find this misguided generosity o' yers almost endearing. "

He kissed her then. "Come, I'll take you back to your father and--"

"No. If I canna have you beside me for the rest o' my life then I will at least 'ave one night," Marion said fiercely.

"But--"

"Damn it, Conner. Are ye made o' iron?" The tears spilt then.

He wasn't made of iron and he was no more immune to tears than any man. Taking her in his arms, he tried to comfort her and wonder at what point he'd lost his soul to this woman.

*****

"I want ye ta have this," she said much, much later.

She handed him the locket around her neck. He already knew that it had belonged to her dead mother, the only piece of the woman that Marion had left. He also knew how much Marion cherished it.

"I can't take this," he tried to give it back.

"I want ye ta have it. Ta remember me," she insisted.

"I couldn't forget you," he said thickly, "not if I live until the universe grows old and dies."

She sighed sadly, letting her head droop against him.

*****

January 25, 1924

He stood in his room, watching as her car was loaded below. He tried to tell himself not to watch, to spare himself this grief. Yet he continued to watch even as she stepped into the car, even as it began to pull out. The locket she had given him was clenched in his hand, his grip so hard that the chain dug into his flesh.

She was gone, forever. He would never see her smile, the way those china-blue eyes glowed, her voice soft with desire would never speak his name again.

He opened his hand. The carvings of the locket glinted mournfully back at him. A single tear splashed against the gold shape.

At last, he turned away from the window. He walked a different path now, their lives were irrevocably separated.

But he was wrong--on more than one count.

Chapter Ten

"So, Conner, how are you related to Cat?" Ami asked as she watched the Immortal deftly carve up several carrots. He was adept with the knife, she noticed.

Very adept.

He smiled, a nostalgic smile that lit up his whole face, "Through her paternal grandmother, Marion. A wonderful woman, she was."

She noticed the catch in his voice as he said the woman's name. Obviously, she had meant something to him which led Ami to wonder just how long her had known her. Immortals, complex with complex lives, complex emotions. She wondered how they endured all the lost friends and lovers, century upon centuries worth. Did it get easier for them with the passage of time or just more complicated?

Probably the latter, Ami decided.

"So you're one of Cat's friends? From the University?" Conner asked.

She gave him a slight nod. While she was attending Cambridge at the moment, she had certainly never met Cat Fraser until today. A meeting like that would have been much too memorable to forget. Still, it would be a bit complicated to explain to the Immortal the ties that bound their group just yet. Besides there were other things that needed to be taken care of first.

Adam had provided her with the perfect opportunity by suggesting that he and the other two girls pop out for a few groceries. Naturally enough, Cat was very reluctant to take leave of her uncle so quickly but then Adam could be very persuasive when he set his mind to it.

Studying the Immortal, she made her voice as neutral as possible, "How is the hunting lately, Mr. MacLeod?"

Was it her imagination or did he pause for the briefest of seconds? "I'm not sure I follow," he said mildly.

"I'm sure you do. Head hunting isn't something one forgets, is it?"

"Especially if one is an Immortal," she finished.

Blue eyes bored into hers as piercing as any edged weapon. A chill went down her spine. She couldn't believe what she was doing. Here she was baiting someone who carried four feet of steel to survive.

Conner seemed to be assessing her and she made her face as blank as possible. Her experience with Immortals had been limited to two members of that race: Richie Ryan and Maris Keillor. One good, one bad. That really didn't give her a lot of leeway in how to handle this particular Immortal. Was she letting her attraction to Richie blind her to the possibility that Conner MacLeod could be dangerous?

Who was she kidding? He was dangerous.

Suddenly, she felt very small and alone. "It appears, Miss Jackson," he said levelly, "that we need to talk. A nice long conversation."

"Funny," she said, "I was just thinking the same thing."

*****

"So let me get this straight: a few months back, Maris Keillor tried to have you killed? Maris Keillor?!" Conner said in disbelief.

Ami nodded, "You knew her, I take it?"

"Yes, a long, long time ago. Although, when I knew her, she wasn't trying to whack kids for kicks," his voice was thoughtful, "And Ryan took her head, you say?"

She had conveniently left out a few details, like, oh, the part where she explained about the Tomorrow People. Over the course of the conversation, she had discovered that she liked Conner MacLeod, liked him a great deal but she couldn't reveal the Tomorrow People's existence without talking it over with the others first.

"Precisely," Ami replied, "That's how we found out about Immortals."

Conner let out a long sigh, "I'm going to have a long talk with that kid when I see him again. And with my kinsman, Duncan. Too many people know about us already."

"Well, I can promise you that we won't advertise the knowledge."

He tipped his head in acknowledgment, face troubled as he asked, "How much does Cat know?"

"About the Game?"

"Yes."

"Nothing as far as I know. She wasn't with us when we met Richie. And unless you've told her..."

"I haven't."

"May I ask why not?" Ami asked after an uncomfortable pause.

"Because she's better off not knowing. The less she knows, the safer she is," Conner rested his chin on his hands.

"That may not be necessarily true," Ami replied quietly, "Conner, I have to ask... Did you have anything to do with the body that was found behind the Glenfinnan Inn?"

He shook his head emphatically, "I only came into town this afternoon and I'm certainly not here for the hunting. I came to see Cat and that's it."

Ami relaxed, "I didn't think it was you but you understand that--"

"You couldn't be sure," understanding flashed in his eyes, "As for Cat... The moment she learns about the Game, any chance she has at a normal life is over."

A laugh burst out of the Tomorrow Person and MacLeod looked surprised. "Mr. MacLeod--"

"Conner," he interrupted.

"Conner, Cat has never had a normal life. Any revelations on your part aren't going to change that."

"So she's trusted you with all that. She told you about the accident, " he hesitated.

Ami nodded again. Actually, Jade had been the one to give her those details but that was a minor detail that didn't need to be discussed. Not now when Conner was opening up. She felt uncomfortable about telling a semi-truth but there was little choice at the moment.

"One of our friends has been kidnapped," she blurted out, "We think an Immortal, the one who won, has kidnapped him and his father. Cat wants to help and if she is, then she's going to have to learn the truth. And I think it would be better coming from you."

He took her statement with surprising equanimity, "I wondered why you spoke up. You didn't strike me as the type to take your life in your hands and throw it away, Ami Jackson."

"What does that mean?"

"For all you knew, I could have been that Immortal or worse."

"But you weren't," she said confidently.

"But you didn't know that," he countered, "If you're not careful, that trusting nature of yours will get you into trouble."

"I didn't really have a choice. And then there was Cat. If you had been the one, I doubt you would have cared what she thought."

"Point. And here I thought I was coming here for a rest," Conner muttered.

"What?"

"I came here to get away from the Game. So much for that."

"You don't--"

"But I do. I can't just sit back while an Immortal rampages through Glenfinnan. There's, as you pointed out, Cat to worry about as well as a young boy and his father who need to be rescued."

She took his hand, pressing it, "Thank you."

He shrugged, placing his other hand over hers, "I could claim it was the spirit of altruism but I never could resist the requests of beautiful young women. Defect from my youth, you see. It'll probably get me killed one day, but I'm too old to change my ways now"

He kissed her hand and she wasn't sure whether she should be annoyed or charmed.

She settled on charmed.

*****

/I'm not sure how I feel about this/ Adam 'pathed to Ami privately.

She repressed the urge to grit her teeth. /Adam, we can trust him. He's not going to reveal our secret. He's had a lot of practice keeping secrets, you know./

/I suppose you're right but.../ Unease tempered his thoughts.

/It's not really for us to say anyway. Conner's planning to have a talk with Cat after dinner. I imagine she'll feel sort of obliged to share a few things with him./

/I see your point./

/I suggest we just give them some room and let them handle it./

Ami noticed that Cat was eyeing them from across the dinner table. It was obvious that she knew that they were having a conversation, curiosity blazed gray flames in her eyes. It was equally obvious that she wasn't going to push the matter, more than likely because she didn't want to raise a delicate issue with Conner around.

Things were to get more delicate sooner than the Scottish girl knew.

*****

Conner prodded the slowly burning wood with a poker. The fireplace was dusted with tiny embers of brilliant red that faded to pale ash in the blink of an eye. Tiny ripple of smoke curled and lazily drifted up the stone flue.

"Och, Conner, I think the logs will catch without all yer help," Cat sitting down next to him.

He laughed. It sounded strained and forced to his ears

Cat evidently noticed this. One hand came to rest on his, taking the poker and laying it aside, "You want ta talk ta me about somethin', d'ye no'?"

"Am I that transparent?" His amusement was genuine now.

"As a pane o' glass. What's on yer mind?" she pulled one leg up, hand wrapped around her knee.

Oh, nothing much, he could imagine saying, I just wanted to tell you that I'm over five centuries old and a participant in a semi-mystical Game for domination and the only way I can die is by having my head chopped off. Talk about your ice breakers, he thought.

He was glad that Ami had shooed the other kids away into other parts of the cottage. It was hard enough trying to handle an audience of one without having three other kids he barely knew in the room.

"Cat, there's something you need to know, something I haven't told you."

"Oh aye? And what would tha' be?" she sounded interested, not as curious as he might have suspected.

"Well, for one thing..." he floundered. It wasn't like he hadn't done this before, so why was this time so hard? "I'm not like other men. There are things.."

She touched his arm, concern etched on her face, "It's all right, ye can tell me."

He nodded. "I knew your grandmother for a long time."

"Oh, I ken that. She was quite fond o' ye. "

"Cat, what I'm trying to say is that I knew her a long time. I first met her in 1924," he waited for the shocked looks, the disbelief but none came.

"And?" She was behaving as if it were the most normal thing in the world to hear one's Uncle claim to have known her grandmother seventy four years previously and appeared not a day over his early thirties.

"I'm not sure you're grasping what I'm trying to tell you--"

She held up a hand to stop him, "I understand perfectly what ye're attemptin' ta tell me. Ye knew Gram when she was a young woman."

"And that doesn't strike you as odd?" He was stunned by the positive lack of disbelief or shocked denials.

She shrugged, "Why should it?"

He narrowed his eyes, "Are you trying to humor me?"

"Wouldna dream of it."

He shook his head, feeling that somewhere, somehow, wires had been crossed.

An incredulous yet sympathetic expression crossed his niece's face. "Oh, of all the-- Ye dinna ken, do ye?"

"Know what?"

"I already know what ye are tryin' ta tell me. Ye are Conner MacLeod o' the Clan MacLeod," she began ticking off each on her fingers,"born in Glenfinnan on the shores o' Loch Shiel in 1518, died in battle in 1536 and became Immortal."

"How do you know that?" Conner demanded, "The only one I told around here was--"

Their eyes met, in unison they said, "Marion."

"She told you?"

"Yes, before ye took me back with ye ta New York seven years ago, before she died," a shadow crossed Cat's face, "I thought ye ken about her tellin' me."

"Trust me, this is all news to me. I'm surprised that she told ye, even more surprised that ye believed her. Most people require proof."

"Well, I wasna inclined ta believe her at first. But ye ken how Gram was. She kept tellin' me the same story o'er and o'er until I found myself startin' ta believe her. If it was a delusion then it was an elaborate delusion and even after the stroke, she wasna prone ta be delusional. Then there was the research she presented me with," she shook her head, "There were a lot of Conner MacLeods, claiming ta be from Glenfinnan in the historical databases. Too many ta be sheer coincidences," she gave him a reproving look, "Uncle, did ye no' think o' changing yer name more often? It made it terribly easy ta find ye. And with that much evidence staring ye in the face, how can ye expect anyone not ta believe you're no' exactly normal?"

"She sifted through the records? That must have taken forever," Conner was impressed that Marion even undertaken such a task.

"I believe she hired people. Gram was determined ta convince me o' her story and well," Cat shrugged again.

"But you can't believe me, not without proof," Conner had to admit he was more than a bit taken aback by this turn of events.

She smiled, "Dinna tell me what I can and canna believe. There are more things in Heaven and Earth than dreamt of by your philosophy, Horatio"

He laughed, "You don't know what a relief it is not to have to explain about what I am, about the Game."

"Game?" she looked at him blankly, "What Game?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Do you mean to tell me that Marion told you all that and didn't tell you about the Game?"

"This is the first I've heard of it," Cat replied.

Inwardly, Conner cursed. Marion had chosen to tell her part of the truth and had left the hardest part for him to explain. Bloody wonderful.

"All right, let me try to explain. You see...."

*****

"Ye chop people's heads off?" Cat appeared horrified.

"Well, put very simply, yes. But it's more complicated than that," he sighed.

She stared at her hands, voice small, "And ye've been doing this for hundreds of years?"

"Yes."

"Until only one remains?"

"That's the rules of the Game."

"And just who made these rules up? How do ye know that this isna some mistake?"

"Cat, I know. The Quickening is proof enough."

"But, but..."

"I know this is hard for you. That it sickens you. If you want, I'll leave," he started to rise.

She pulled him back down, "No, I dinna want ye ta go. I just got ye back, Uncle. I dinna want ta lose ye again after so long."

"I'm not really your Uncle--"

"Yes, ye are," she said firmly, "It doesna matter how distant the connection is, ye are family."

He took her hand, squeezing it gently, "Thank you. I'm sorry to have to upset you like this but--"

"No, it isna ye. I was surprised, that's all."

"Can you live with this?" It was important for him to know this.

"Aye, I can," her voice was firm, "because I want you to stay. Because ye have no choice. I know ye wouldna do this if ye had a choice."

"And it does not bother you?"

"Well, I canna deny that it does but I can live with it if it doesn't bother you that I can do this," she said and promptly disappeared in a flash of light.

He jumped to his feet, for once knowing exactly how mortals felt when he told them of his Immortality. She reappeared in the armchair across the room, looking insufferably pleased as she chirped, "Surprise!"

Conner opened his mouth, closed it, stared at her then said as calmly as he could manage, "So what do you do for an encore?"