Archive of Our Own (BETA rev. 2101)

Cassandra returned to Glenfinnan a day sooner than planned, and consequently was
annoyed to find Methos had taken Becky on a trip to Edinburgh. It was completely
irresponsible. Chances were that you met other immortals in cities, which was one of
the reasons why she had not taken Becky with her to London. Of course he was good at
evading fights and getting away, but what if this just turned out to be impossible?
She shuddered to think of Becky witnessing a beheading, getting injured or... She
couldn't forget the image of her first dream which had felt so much like a vision.
Rationally, she had no real cause to think Methos would harm Becky. He liked the girl;
even she would admit as much, and there was nothing to be won by killing the child.
Nothing but hurting Cassandra, and he was so very, very good at that...

*Pull yourself together*, she silently ordered her panicked imagination, while trying
to present a normal front to Rachel who had just returned from some errands of her
own, collecting all the fresh meat she would need for the Christmas party from the
farmers of the area. Rachel, however, saw through her.

"Don't worry," she said cheerfully. "They'll be all right. You know, Adam does have a
responsible streak; he just keeps it carefully hidden. Sometimes I think that boy's
never going to grow up."

"You don't say," Cassandra replied drily, before she could stop herself, but the irony
helped her to put things a bit into perspective.

"Cathy, look, I know it's none of my business, but couldn't you give him another
chance? I mean, I can understand how you feel about Duncan. The man kind of sweeps you
away. I'll admit I was a bit swept away myself, but I knew at once there's no future
in it. Friendship, yes. But our Duncan was just not made for monogamy. So if I were
you, I'd look on Adam long and hard. He's not a bad sort, basically, and I can vouch
for the fact that he didn't give any other woman here another glance."

It was very difficult to decide whether to burst into indignation or into laughter.
She had suspected Methos of telling Rachel some fairy tale about the two of them
having been romantically involved, or that it was his intention to court her which
made him stick around. But this surpassed her wildest expectations. *Don't get
hysterical*, she ordered herself. *Think. Pay him back in kind. Let's see how
embarrassing you can make it for him.*

Cassandra swallowed both indignation and laughter, lowered her lids and sadly replied:
"Rachel, you don't know the half of it. Here I was, thinking they were both interested
in me. It was, as you can imagine, very difficult to choose. But then I found out the
truth. They were both setting me up. Using me just as a cover. You see, Duncan's
living in America most of the time, and they're still pretty conservative over there."

Rachel's eyes were round as saucers.

"You don't mean...?"

"Yes. The discovery was very humiliating. How would you feel to be used and betrayed
in that way?"

"I'd want to castrate the bastards. Well, to tell you the truth, Cathy, it isn't a
complete surprise...."

*It isn't?* Cassandra thought with something of a shock.

"....but I still think it wasn't all a deceit. Adam's genuinely interested in you;
believe me, I can tell. Though I can understand now why you're so skeptical. Let him
suffer for a bit longer; it's just what he deserves."

"I intend to," Cassandra answered.

Becky was wildly excited about something, but managed actually to keep it a secret,
which was a rare thing for a child. However, she put all that energy into pestering
Cassandra to accept Rachel's invitation for the Christmas party.

"Everything is going to look too beautiful!" she breathed. "I made some of the stars,
Cathy! Adam and Rachel showed me how. Please, please, let us go!"

Finally, Cassandra relented, though she pointed out to Becky that the girl would miss
much of the party anyway, for she would be put into bed whether they were at Rachel's
or at home. So she spent the solstice night with a bunch of eager, happy mortals, who
seemed younger to her than ever, plus her new daughter and her oldest enemy. Methos
and Cassandra both carefully avoided any double-edged taunts or innuendos or any
delicate subjects, with the result that they were perceived as skittish new lovers,
confirming everyone's suspicions. Finally, while Methos was upstairs trying to put
Becky, who missed her written charms, to sleep, Cassandra couldn't stand the amused
glances any longer, grabbed her coat and announced she was out for a bit of fresh air.
Of course, she wasn't five minutes alone before she bumped into Methos.

"Why do you follow me?"

"Honestly, I didn't. Rachel just said I looked as if I could use some air, and she
wasn't far off the mark. By the way, thanks for enlightening her about the immortal
variation of Jules et Jim. She dropped some heavy hints about being honest about one's
feelings, not covering them up at the expense of someone else."

"Well, you started it with that ridiculous soap opera you told her."

"True." He suddenly laughed.

"What?"

"If Mac ever returns from the monks and life ever gets back to normal, at least normal
enough for him to contact Rachel, he's going to strangle us both for ruining his
reputation with her!"

The giggle that bubbled up in her simply had to be freed, and so he heard her laugh,
carefree, low and sweet, untouched by bitterness, and it was a revelation. But
thinking of Duncan reminded her soon of the dire, painful reality he was caught in at
the moment, and she sobered up quickly. Still, the spiced punch Rachel had served must
have mellowed her to a degree she had not anticipated, for she heard herself remarking
pensively and still without rancour:

"He was born on this night, you know. The night of the winter solstice. I remember it
so clearly... Sometimes I wonder whether I should have adopted him myself, like Becky
now. He wouldn't have been cast out of his clan then. Would have known what he was."

"Instead off getting the quickening of a suicidal hermit, if this is what happened,
and thus being drawn into the present fiasco. Yes. But he wouldn't have become the
Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod who annoys all of us, right?"

"If anyone is annoying, it is you. But I suppose all this immature behaviour is the
reason why people don't discover your identity. Except when you want them to. Tell me,
did you create the legend of Methos the Eldest yourself so you could impress younger
immortals like Duncan if it was necessary?"

The edge had returned to her voice, and as their brief truce was obviously ended, he
replied with a cutting remark of his own.

"Tell me, did you deliberately impress yourself on a thirteen year old as his first
adolescent dream so he would be bound to you forever?"

She blushed and hoped he wouldn't notice in the darkness. At least tonight, there was
no bright moonlight.

"I learned from the master," she said coldly.

"Thank you. Let's go inside before this gets any more unpleasant, shall we?"

It was something of a miracle that they not only managed to suppress further
hostilities, but also draw some enjoyment from the rest of the party. Rachel looked at
them and shook her head, but thankfully refrained from further well-intentioned
efforts, at least for this evening. Methos danced with her and with a few of the other
women present, though he knew better than to ask Cassandra. He did, however, notice
she had her circle of admirers. Now and then one of them went upstairs to check on
Becky, and gradually the entrancing harmony of the evening settled in again.

The next day, everyone received his or her presents. For Becky, it was a notebook in
which he had written some fairy tales, both in the hieroglyphs and in the Roman
letters he taught her, and another notebook for her to practice. Rachel received an
Ibis earring he had ordered sent from one of his hideouts, and, to keep with the
Egyptian theme, a receipt on how beer was brewed on the shores of the Nile millennia
ago, "all the result of some motivated research," as he explained. She laughed, gave
him the new sweater she had knitted for him and vanished, to return with the kitten
she had, on his request, kept hidden until now.

"This is your present, Cathy," Becky cried. " Adam let me pick him. It's a tom-cat."

Cassandra found three pairs of eyes looking towards her, two expectantly, one warily.
Strangely enough, the memory of former presents did not hurt half as much as she would
have thought. As a matter of fact, ever since her return from London, the nightmares
had vanished again and with them the feeling of desperation. Even the nagging concern
about her failure to make any kind of contact through her dreamwalks seemed less
important here. She turned her gaze to the cat. A lovely, gray short hair, with yellow
eyes that blinked lazily. A Carthusian.

"What shall we call him, then?" she asked slowly.

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief and beamed. Becky, who had never doubted that they
would keep the kitten, eagerly answered: "Duncan!"

Rachel burst into laughter. "This was your idea," Cassandra said accusingly, looking
at Methos. Then, she smiled and knelt down next to Becky, who was stroking the cat. It
proved to have a patient nature, since it let her, though it must be tired by now from
the constant touching.

"Duncan it is," she confirmed.

End, Part 7