"Ahhhhh!"  Guin woke with a start, quaking in terror.  Connor touched her shoulder, and she shrieked as she pulled away.

"Guin, it's me," he said gently as her fear-filled eyes finally lit on him.  "It's okay," he reassured her, wrapping Guin in his embrace as her shaking intensified, then finally began to die away.  "It's just a dream."

"I hate dreams," she growled, still trying to catch her breath and steady herself.

"Only because you've been having so many bad ones."  Connor looked down at her seriously.  "Are you going to be all right?"

Guin nodded, gently pushing him away and taking a few deep breaths.  "I'll be fine."

A few moments passed in silence.  "It was Mason again, wasn't it?" Connor finally asked.

She nodded.  "The dream about when he first grabbed me.  As opposed to the one about him wrestling the collar on me, or the one when he actually used the shock on me, or the one when he was going to use his sword against me."  Taking another deep breath, Guin let it out in a long sigh.  "At least they've become a little less frequent over the past month and a half."

Connor gave a brief laugh.  "Yeah, now it's only five days a week instead of seven."

"They'll drift away soon enough on their own."  Guin shook her head.  "I'll be fine.  Let's go back to sleep."

Connor carefully tucked Guin into his arms.  She curled against him, sighing as she laid her head against his shoulder.  I wish I could take your nightmares away, Connor thought, gently stroking her hair.  Especially since I caused them.  He held back his own sigh of frustration as he cradled her and encouraged her to sleep.  For Connor, however, sleep was long in coming as he repeatedly cursed Mason's ghost and Immortality in general.

"Can't do that," she said gruffly, pulling away and getting out of bed.  Connor stared at her back as she headed for the bathroom.

"Sure you could," he said enticingly to her retreating form.

Guin turned on him, fury burning in her eyes.  "What do you want me to do, Connor, quit?  I'm finally doing something that gives me some gratification, do you want to take that away from me?"

Connor raised an eyebrow at her.  "Hold on.  I'm not trying to take anything away from you.  But since the new year started, you haven't been spending any time here.  I hardly see you except when you're sleeping."

"I'm very busy right now," she responded indignantly.  "I've got things to keep me busy and it makes me happy.  Is that a problem?"

"You only have one life, you should live it, not waste it," he replied.

"Waste it?"  Guin's tone rose dangerously.  "Waste it?  Excuse me, but I don't think I'm wasting my one precious little mortal life on this stuff.  You might live forever, have hundreds of opportunities, but right now, I've only got this one, and I'm making the most of it.  Y'know, Connor, your goddamned Immortality isn't always a factor, but sometimes your patronizing attitude is.  If I wanted someone telling me what to do, I'd go visit my family."  She stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Guin stood under the hot water, trying hard not to cry.  I hate arguing, she thought miserably.  But I hate having to defend myself too.  Why can't he understand that this is important to me?  The steamy warmth of the shower still left her cold, and she quickly finished up, wrapping herself in a towel and walking back into the bedroom.  Connor's back was to her as he laid out his clothes.  Guin slowly walked over and sat down on the bed near him.  "I'm sorry," she said quietly, staring down at her hands.  "I shouldn't be yelling at you.  I hate fighting."

Connor sat down next to her.  "So do I," he said quietly as he gently rubbed her back.  "Talk about a waste of time."  Connor paused, shaking his head.  "I'm sorry too.  What I said about your work...I just miss you, Guin."

"I miss you too.  But this is important to me.  I hate having to defend myself and what I do."  Guin sighed.

"I didn't mean to put you on the defensive.  Or to be patronizing.  But I'd like you to enjoy your life."

"I am, Connor."  She shrugged and smiled faintly.  "The job is stressful, but I'm feeling good about what I'm doing.  And I feel like I'm showing the promotion reviewers what mettle I'm made of."  Guin shook her head and looked away.  "I know I'm not giving as much to our relationship as I should, though..."

Connor shrugged.  "I'll take whatever I can get."  He kissed her cheek, smoothing back her damp hair.  "You'd better get ready for work."

Guin kissed his lips gently.  "I promise, we'll have some time for us, soon."  She smiled.  "You are the best, you know that?"

Connor grinned back.  "I know."

Guin smacked his knee as she stood up.  "Smart ass."

"Hi."  Connor appeared inside the kitchen doorway.

"Hi," Guin responded tonelessly, stifling a yawn.

"You missed dinner," Connor stated the obvious.  "I can warm some up for you..."

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled, dropping her briefcase on the floor and shrugging out of her coat with a huff.

"It will only take a minute..."

"I said I'm not hungry!" she repeated hotly.  Guin took several deep breaths and closed her eyes.  "I've got work to do," she added, wearily lugging her overstuffed briefcase upstairs.  Guin settled in at her desk, spreading the papers from her briefcase over the desktop and flipping on the computer.  She heaved a long sigh as she opened the word processing and spreadsheet programs and popped in the disk she'd brought home with her.  Guin had been at work for only a few minutes when there was a knock at the door.  "Yeah," she called out, not taking her eyes from the monitor.

Connor opened the door and walked in carrying a tray with a bowl, plate and cup-and-saucer, which he set down carefully on the edge of her desk.  "You need to eat something," he said gently.

Guin gazed down at the rich chicken and vegetable soup, bread and hot tea for a long moment.  She glanced up at Connor, then picked up the cup, sniffed the liquid inside and took a sip.  "Orange spice, my favorite," she sighed, closing her eyes and taking a longer drink.  Connor began to leave.  "Connor," Guin stopped him meekly.  He turned, raising an eyebrow at her.  "Thank you."  Connor nodded and smiled, then exited the room, closing the door behind him.  Guin sighed again as she pulled off a hunk of bread to eat and settled back into her chair.

An hour later, Guin cautiously knocked on Connor's open office door.  "Hi," Connor greeted her in surprise as he looked up from the book he was reading.  "Come here," he prodded gently when she hesitated at the door.  Guin slowly walked over to him, her head bowed submissively.  Putting a marker in the book and closing it, Connor pushed away from the desk and gently pulled Guin into his lap.  She laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes with a sigh.  "That's it," he whispered, stroking her hair.  "Just relax."

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she said quietly, swallowing hard.

"Shh.  No need for that."  Connor pressed his lips to her forehead.

"I know I've been pretty awful..."

"You're just tired.  That I can understand.  Today I've been dealing with problems from the contractors working on the new room...I'm a little tired myself."  Connor gave her room to shift as she put her arms around him.  "Tell me what you need from me," he prodded.  "What can I do for you?"

"I just want you to hold me," she said with a trace of guilt.  "And to listen to your voice."

"Do you want me to tell you a story?"  A smile played at the corners of Connor's mouth.

Guin giggled.  "Yeah.  Tell me a story."

"Hmm..." Connor pursed his lips.  "Have I told you the story of my duel on Boston Common?"

Guin raised a brow at him.  "No, tell me."

Connor laughed.  "Do you really want to know?"

"Mmm hmm."  Guin grinned.  "You brought it up, you're stuck with telling the story."

Connor made a face, but began his tale anyway.  "It was 1783...a friend of mine was throwing a party.  A large party, the kind he was quite fond of, with an abundance of wine and brandy."  Connor smiled sadly as he thought of his now-deceased friend Kastigir.  "I was having a good time..."

"Getting schnockered," Guin mumbled with a smile.

"Indulging quite well, yes."  Connor granted her a smile back.  "There was a wealthy man there by the name of Bassett.  I wouldn't have taken much notice of him, except that his rather...mmm...uncomely wife had become overly interested in me."  Connor smirked.  "Far too interested, to the point of following me into a room and trying to corner me, when all I wanted to do was avoid her.  So, to put her off, I...well, I called her something not very nice."

"Not very nice?" Guin's sleepy voice drifted up to him as she yawned.  "Couldn't have been four-letter in those days...what was considered not nice in 1783?"

"I called her a bloated warthog," Connor confessed.

Guin snorted with laughter.  "I'll bet she took that well...not."

"No, she didn't.  She told her husband what I had said, and he challenged me to a duel.  Being nearly drunk off my feet, I of course agreed to this."  Connor frowned a moment, then the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile.  "He was a good aim, sword went straight through my vital organs.  It really disturbed him to think he had missed, when I kept getting up.  I finally apologized -- not heartfelt, but public and therefore satisfactory -- and he let me walk off."  Connor looked down at Guin's face, noting her closed eyes.  "Are you asleep?" he whispered.

"Huh-uh.  Just listening to your voice rumble in your chest."  Guin sighed contentedly.  "Are your legs asleep?"

Connor laughed.  "No, but they're getting there.  Shall we go up to bed?"  Guin nodded and stood up.  Connor rose from the chair, then leaned down to Guin and picked her up.

"You don't have to do that," she protested, but put her arms around his neck anyway.

"No, I don't.  But I want to."  Connor smiled at her as he began to carry her off to bed.

"Mmm hmm."  Guin rubbed her eyes.

"The same ones?"

"No, different."  Guin's eyes went distant as she gazed toward the window.  First Mason, now work.  What's next on the nightmare list?

"Want to talk about it?"  Connor began to worry as Guin pressed her forehead to her knees, letting the distance from her gaze fall between them.

"No."  Guin let out a long breath.  "I need sleep more than talk."  She stretched back on the bed, then curled into fetal position.  Connor curved around her, pulling her tightly to him.  Guin elbowed him as she squirmed.  "Must you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Suffocate me.  Could you try, just once, to sleep on your own side of the bed?" she demanded tersely.  Wordlessly Connor disentangled himself and rolled away from her.  Guin's tension began to drain away, and she soon found herself regretting her snippish- ness.  She glanced over her shoulder at Connor's back, then turned toward him.  Guin knew he could feel her movement, but he did not even offer her a backwards glance.  Releasing a sigh, she touched her forehead to his shoulder, then pulled her legs up, touching her thighs to the back of his as she spooned around him.  Connor reached up and smoothed back her hair.

"Do you want me to hold you?" he asked cautiously.

Guin swallowed hard and nodded.  "Only if you want to," she added quietly.

Connor turned over and cradled Guin against his shoulder.  "Why wouldn't I want to?" he asked.  Guin shrugged.  "I know you've had a hard day," he whispered in her ear.  "I don't want to make it worse."

"You're not making it worse."  Guin entwined her fingers with his.  "I'm sorry."

"For what?"  Connor furrowed his brow.

"For what?" she scoffed.  "For being so mean and snippy, that's for what."

Connor gently drew her closer.  "It's all right."

"No, it's not all right," she replied, pulling back.  "It's not okay for me to act that way."

"No, it's not," he agreed.  "But you regret it, and you apologized."  Connor stroked her hair and drew her head to his shoulder again.  "Relax," he admonished her.  "Go back to sleep."  And no more Mason dreams, he added in his head.  Because I don't think I can take those anymore, knowing what they're doing to your mental health.

Guin peered into the bag Rebecca had handed her, pulling out the hot turkey sandwiches and pretzels.  "Thanks," she said tonelessly.

"I'm overwhelmed by your gratitude," Rebecca replied sarcastically.  "I know it's not anything special..."

"I'm sorry, Rebecca, I don't mean it that way.  I'm just tired of working through my breaks."  Guin offered a weak smile.  "But I do appreciate you making sure that I eat."

"You look tired," Rebecca remarked with concern as she took a seat across from Guin.

Guin nodded as she swallowed her bite of sandwich.  "I started having nightmares about work last night."

"Really?"  Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

"Mmm hmm."  Guin bit her lip.  "Bizarre stuff, like missing deadlines that would just be insane to try to make, or being asked to perform impossible tasks.  I think I'm just overwhelmed."  She shook her head.  "At least they're an alternate to the other night terrors I've been having, though that's not much consolation."

"Are you still having those dreams about the mugging?" Rebecca frowned.  "I really do think you should see a counselor about that..."

"There's no time," Guin replied.  "And they're not that bad, really.  They're going away slowly."

"You're letting the company run you too ragged," Rebecca chided her.

"It really doesn't bother me too much," Guin defended herself.  "I just hate the resulting nightmares of both kinds.  Connor's so used to them, he hardly bothers sitting up when I shake the bed down waking up.  He just looks at me, asks if I want to talk about it, then goes back to bed when I say no."

"And why do you say no?"

Guin laughed.  "I keep forgetting you're a psychologist.  I say no because he doesn't need to be bothered with my problems.  There's nothing he can do, so why worry him more?"

Rebecca shrugged.  "Just to share.  It's not healthy to hold things back from each other."

Guin shook her head.  "He's got enough on his mind, and I've been taking out enough of my frustrations on him.  He can stand to have a few things held back."

"I suppose."  Rebecca munched thoughtfully on a pretzel.  "Just keep in mind the difference between holding a few things back and hiding yourself away," she added, looking Guin straight in the eye.

"I'm not hiding," Guin protested, glancing away.  "Just protecting him a little."

"You actually remember last February?" John teased as he descended the stairs.  "You mean you had a life before meeting us?"

"This is nothing," Connor added as he stepped from the kitchen.  "I remember the blizzard of...what year was that...seventeen something... anyway, I had to walk twenty miles in the blinding snow for supplies."

"Uphill," John taunted his dad.  "Both ways.  Right?"

Guin narrowed her eyes at the pair, her voice taut as a violin string.  "I can remember a lot of things given time, John, and I certainly do remember something as simple as last February and my first few months in Scotland.  As for you," she added, pointing at Connor, "I don't have as many years to compare, but I really don't need your one-upmanship right now.  I made one simple comment to myself, I wasn't asking for outside commentary."

Connor blinked owlishly, stunned by Guin's harshness.  "Sorry, but I wasn't expecting to be verbally thrashed for a little joke.  You've lost your sense of humor."

"No, I don't have a sense of humor, okay?" Guin threw the phrase back at him, fire in her eyes.  "I don't have much of anything anymore."  She sighed a long breath through her nose.  "I'm going for a drive," Guin announced flatly, fastening her coat buttons again and quickly heading back out the door.

John stared after her.  "What's wrong with her?"

Connor shook his head.  "You know how it feels when your teachers are pushing you too hard, like at the end of the year when they're trying to cram in all the lessons they didn't get to throughout the year?"  John nodded.  "She's going through the equivalent of that at work.  Too much to do, too little time, no time to relax."

"Oh."  John glanced toward the door again.  "What can we do?"

"I don't know."  Connor's frown deepened.  "Just let her be, for now.  She'll be back when she's ready."  If she doesn't get into an accident first, he added to himself.

"Where's Guin?" Connor asked him.

"In the kitchen, making coffee," John answered as he picked up his book bag.  "Looks like she's still in her mood."

Connor nodded and wandered into the kitchen.  Guin was sitting at the table, staring into the coffee mug between her hands.  Connor stepped over to the counter and began pouring himself a cup of coffee.  "This movie's pretty good, you should come watch it."

Guin's voice was hollow as she responded.  "I didn't think you'd want me in there with you."

Connor raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing.  Instead, he approached her and held out his hand for her to take.  "Come on," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the den.  Reluctantly Guin took his hand and let him lead her through the house to the sofa in front of the television.  Connor took both cups of coffee and put them on the table, then gently tucked Guin against his side.  She sighed deeply, laying her head against his shoulder.  "Bad day?" he asked quietly.  Guin nodded.  "Me too."  Connor laid his hand against her back, kneading the taut muscles along her spine and neck and across her shoulders.  Guin gave another deep sigh, snuggling against him.

"I'm sorry, Connor," she said, her eyes filling with tears.  "I don't know what got into me..."

"Shhh."  Connor wiped away the tears beginning to streak her face.  "I didn't mean to upset you tonight.  I was just teasing."

Guin nodded.  "I know.  I just haven't been in the mood for teasing.  But I shouldn't have blown up at you."  She sniffled and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

John appeared in the doorway again, and Connor waved him in.  When John hesitated, Connor quickly told him, "You're not intruding."  John cautiously sat down next to Guin, and  she uncurled from Connor to put her arm around the young man.

"I owe you an apology too," she said quietly.  "I shouldn't have blown up at you."

John shrugged.  "That's okay."

Guin shook her head.  "No, it's not okay."  She gave John's shoulders a squeeze, then released him.  "That's why I'm apologizing."

He shrugged again.  "You're just stressed."

"I don't want you to be angry with me..."

"I'm not."  John offered her a weak smile.  "Maybe a little worried."

Guin smiled back.  "You're so wonderful, kiddo."

"Are you hungry?" Connor asked.  "You missed dinner."  Guin shook her head.  "Are you sure?"

Guin snorted a laugh.  "Rebecca brought me lunch, then Giles brought me tea and biscuits this afternoon.  I've got everyone worried whether I'm eating now."  Guin rested her head on Connor's chest as she leaned against him again.  "I think I just need a little TLC right now."

"That I can do."  Connor stroked her hair.  "If there's anything else you need, just ask.  Maybe we can do something tomorrow..."

"I have to go in tomorrow," Guin interrupted.  Connor raised a brow at her.  "Just for a little while, I should be home by early afternoon."

"You'd better.  They're paying you a fortune in overtime."

"I know they are, but I don't think they have a choice -- it takes too long to train more staff, and they don't have the resources.  It's cheaper for them to pay us a small fortune."

"And kill you in the process," Connor added.

"Please don't start with that," she begged.  "I like my job.  It's just a little hectic right now.  This frustrating period will end soon enough, I promise."

Connor was not expecting the wall of noise that met him at the opening of the door.  The music was rhythmic but mellow, and he identified it as something Guin listened to.  What struck Connor as odd was the volume: it was overwhelming, so much so that he couldn't even identify the location of the source.  Connor slipped out of his overcoat and, following his instincts, went to the den.  The sight that met him was pleasing to him.  Guin was dressed down in a long shirt and leggings, her eyes closed, her body fully engulfed in the music.  Connor watched Guin's arms gracefully rise until her hands pointed heavenward, then her face lifted to follow, her torso swaying artfully in her oneness with the song.  Silently admiring her grace, he longed to take her in his arms, but didn't want to interrupt her meditative trance.  She's beautiful, he thought, lost in his own amazement.  Not only in the physical sense, but in the spiritual sense.  Pure and uncontaminated by this world as she floats in her own.

The music slowly wound to a close, and Guin blushed deeply as she finally stopped and took note of Connor's presence.  "Hello," she greeted him shyly, turning off the CD.

"Hi."  Connor approached her and gently took her into his arms.  "Relaxing?" he asked, looking deep into her eyes.

"Mmm hmm -- for once," Guin replied, smiling at the twinkle of delight in his eyes as she put her arms around his waist.  "I think you're enjoying it more than I am," she teased.

"Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not," he taunted with a smile.

"I even bought groceries on the way home so I can cook tonight."

"You did?"  Connor furrowed his brow.  "I thought we'd give us both a break and go out."

Guin shrugged.  "I'm not much in the mood to go out.  Besides, cooking is good relaxation for me -- I enjoy it.  And it makes me feel like I'm making up for all the nights I haven't done my share of the meal preparations."

"You've been busy," Connor replied.  "We understand that."

"It doesn't make it fair."  Guin sighed, resting her head against Connor's shoulder.  "I haven't been doing enough all-around, I know, and I'm sorry."

Connor gave her a squeeze.  "Don't worry about it."

"Especially in terms of us," she continued.  "I haven't been devoting a lot of time to our relationship, not nearly as much as I should..."

"We'll make the most of the time we've got," Connor replied firmly.  "Don't fret over it.  We're fine."

"I do love you, Connor."  Guin picked up her head and searched Connor's face.

"I know you do," he replied, looking into her eyes.  "I love you too."  He kissed her, gently at first, then gradually more forcefully.  Guin pulled back a little as the kissing intensified.  "Too tired?" he asked.

Guin shook her head.  "It's just taking a little more time to start the ol' engine than it used to," she laughed.

Connor ran his hands down her back and pulled her body close to his.  "Better?"  He offered an impish smile.

"Mmm, yeah," she smiled, giving him another kiss.  "But shouldn't we go somewhere a little more private before we get too revved up?"

"You want private, you get private," Connor replied.  He walked over to the door, closing and locking it.  "Good enough?"  He returned to her, embracing her tightly.

"Mmm hmm."  She gazed at him sadly.  "It's been weeks since we've made love, hasn't it?"

Connor gave a brief laugh.  "I've gone years without it.  I can stand a few weeks."

"But you shouldn't have to, when you have a partner readily available..."

"Enough," he scolded her.  "Stop beating yourself up over everything.  When you start bothering me, I'll let you know."  Connor grinned again.  "Unless I want you to bother me..."

Guin giggled as he kissed her neck.  "Maybe I'll forget to abuse myself if you take my mind off things," she teased.

Connor kissed her deeply.  "Is this good enough?"  He raised a brow at her devilishly and smiled.

"More than good enough," she replied, smiling back.  "Magical, even."

"I am," Connor calmly replied.  "Just because I forgot my wallet..."

"You'd forget your head if it weren't attached," she snapped.  "Did you forget it's Tuesday too?  Or that I have meetings to be at this afternoon?"

"We have plenty of time for lunch," Connor reassured her.  "Relax..."

"Relax?" she answered.  "Relax?  When we've got clients coming out our ears and up our butts..."

"Do you want me to take you back to work then?"  Connor's tone was short.  "I can take you back to work.  Maybe lunch wasn't such a good idea."  Connor took his wallet out of the desk drawer, then looked over at Guin expectantly.  "So are we heading to the restaurant, or back to the office?"

Guin turned her eyes away.  "Connor, I..."

"Restaurant or office?" he asked more gently.  "It's up to you."

"Restaurant," she replied quietly.

"Good."  Connor gave her shoulders a squeeze, gazing down on her with concern.  "You haven't been getting enough sleep, have you?"

Guin snorted.  "How could you tell?" she said sarcastically.

"I dunno, lucky guess...along with the irritability, and the nightmares becoming more frequent again.  I thought they would go away after we spent last Saturday playing around, but the past few days they've still been terrible, haven't they?"

Guin nodded.  "I'm sorry I'm taking it out on you."

"Don't worry about it."  Guin gave Connor a sorrowful look, and he added, "I mean it.  Don't worry about it."  He squeezed her shoulders again and guided her toward the door.  Suddenly Connor stopped dead, and the cold thrill of fear turned Guin's stomach.  She immediately recognized the approaching man's features as Slavic, but guessed that he was older than he looked.  She glanced at Connor's face, but he was smiling broadly.

"Andrew Beaton?" the man inquired, his voice heavily laced with a Russian accent.

"Yeah, but my old friends like you still call me Connor."  The men embraced each other.  "How are you, Kostya?"

"As well as can be expected," Kostya replied.  "And this would be..."

"This is my girlfriend, Guin."  Connor ushered her forward, and Guin shook Kostya's hand.

"It's a pleasure," Kostya said cordially.

"Ochen priyatna," Guin replied.

Kostya raised a brow at Connor.  "Quite a lady you have, Connor," he remarked.  Guin blushed, and Connor smiled at her.

"Kostya and I met in Stalingrad," Connor clarified for her.  "October, 1942."

Guin stared back at him a moment, blinking like a deer in headlights.  "Battle of Stalingrad," she uttered in slow realization.

"During the Great Patriotic War, as the Russians call it," Connor continued.  "Yes."

"That was my first death," Kostya stated, shifting uncomfortably.

"How horrible for you," Guin empathized.

Connor smiled as he added, "That wasn't the last time you died in that battle."

Kostya shook his head.  "You died there a few times yourself, my friend."

"So were you his teacher?" Guin asked Connor.

Connor shook his head.  "I had only begun to tell him what he was, and what he needed to know.  Then I had to get myself out, because others saw me die.  We ran into each other a couple of years later, and have managed to keep in touch since then."

"So what were your duties during the battle?" Guin asked curiously.

"We worked along the Volga," Kostya answered, "keeping the ferries running and the supply lines open."  He gestured toward Connor.  "One time when the ferry was hit by German artillery, he took off his jacket and stuffed it into the hole to let the ferry finish its journey."

Guin raised an eyebrow in surprise, then smiled.  "That's my hero." She paused, a gleam coming into her eyes.  "Now tell me...I've heard this story...is it really true that the Russian soldiers posed dead German soldiers after they'd frozen to death?"

Kostya laughed.  "I'm afraid so.  German statues were quite a popular pastime.  Russians have a...shall we say...unique sense of humor."

"I'll agree with that," Guin replied.  She turned to Connor.  "Don't tell me you did any of that sort of...er...sculpting."

Connor began to shake his head, but grinned as he said, "Maybe once or twice."

"We had our fun now and then," Kostya remarked seriously, "but all in all it was a very harsh battle, and a harsh war.  We may not have let Stalingrad be taken, but the price was high in blood and the city was rubble when all was finished.  And it was not the only costly battle of the war."

Guin nodded.  "I know.  I'm glad I never had to see it firsthand."

"How long are you going to be in town, Kostya?" Connor asked.

"Only until tomorrow morning," Kostya replied.  "I was hoping we could catch up a little."

Guin glanced at her watch.  "You know what, Connor, it's getting kinda late for me to be going out to lunch anyway, especially with all those new clients we've got.  You and Kostya can go have lunch, and I'll pick something up on my walk back to the office."

"I don't want to intrude," Kostya interjected.

"You're not," Guin reassured him.  "Really."

"Are you sure?" Connor asked her, concern shadowing his eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure," she insisted.

"It's cold outside," he warned.  "Take the Porsche..."

"I can use the walk," Guin replied emphatically.  "It's not that far.  I'll be fine.  Go."  Connor looked at her a moment longer, and she added, "Will you just go?  Sheesh.  I'll be fine.  Have fun, and I'll see you tonight."

"I take it you had a good lunch with Kostya," Guin remarked, scanning Connor's relaxed face.

"Mmm hmm.  And we're going to finish it tonight down at the Hearth Inn, where he's staying."

"You are?" Guin asked, hints of disappointment in her voice, as they walked into the house.

"Yeah.  It'll give me a nice little walk to get sobered up on the way home..."

"So you're going to go get sloshed with your buddy."  Guin's tone was short, and she placed her hands firmly on her hips.

"What is wrong with you?" Connor demanded, turning to face her.

"This was supposed to be a special evening," she protested.  "Just for us.  The three of us.  I told you I was putting everything aside this evening, taking time out of my busy schedule to really be home."

"If you had wanted to do something special, you should have been more specific than that.  I know I told you John was going to be working on a project at Pete's house tonight, so he obviously didn't get your hint either."

"I was trying to be subtle," Guin retorted.  "Maybe you should learn to listen."

"I do listen to you, but you expect me to read your mind!" Connor replied hotly.  "If you had just told me outright, instead of getting angry afterward when I didn't understand, I might be more sympathetic.  I'm Immortal, not omniscient."

"Well if you'd get off your Immortal high-horse once in a while and stop acting like you know everything, then maybe I wouldn't treat you that way," she shot back.  "Besides, whatever happened to 'spending precious moments together'?  At the first sign of an old Immortal drinking buddy, you're off and running."

"Is this about my Immortality, or about my drinking?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"It's about us, Connor," Guin replied, her face beginning to flush.  "It's about having time for us.  You have all the time in eternity for him, I'm a little more limited in that respect."

"Well let me tell you something about him, then," Connor shot back, his nostrils flaring.  "Sometimes Immortals only get the chance to see one another once in a hundred years, or two hundred.  And when we part, we don't know if we'll ever see each other again.  It's the nature of the Game.  So maybe me having a moment or two for him isn't so wrong either."

Guin shrugged off his comment even as the truth of the thought stunned her.  "Fine.  Just go then.  Get out of here."

"Fine.  I will."  Connor turned on his heel and headed back outside; Guin growled in frustration, slamming the door behind him.

"No!" she screamed, pushing him from her.  "Get away from me!"

Connor grabbed at her as he attempted to tickle her, but Guin held him off with one hand while she reached back and decked him with her fist.  Connor's head snapped back and to the side as he fell over, and he lay there for a few moments, slowly moving his jaw before bringing his hand up to rub the spot where she'd hit him.  "Remind me never to surprise you."

"That's what you get for sneaking up on me in the middle of the night," she hissed.  "I'm not beyond defending myself when I don't know who's attacking me.  Especially when it's late and I'm tired and I'm not feeling good in the first place."  Guin stormed into her own room, heading straight for her computer chair and curling up there, her bad mood worsening.  After a moment Connor followed, wiping a thin trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.  "Guin, listen to me..."

"Leave me alone!"

Connor turned the chair toward him and put his hands firmly on the arms.  "Stop yelling your bloody head off at me and listen."  He stopped speaking as he watched her begin to tremble.  "You're shaking..."

"First you assault me, then you imprison me in my chair.  And I'm not supposed to be afraid of you?" she replied, nostrils flaring.

Connor released his grip on the chair and sat down on the bed next to it.  "You're over- reacting, as usual," he began, his voice edged with frustration and anger.  "You can't give me one evening to be with a friend I might never see again.  No, instead you get yourself all worked up until you can't even think straight.  I'm sick of being yelled at for wanting to do things of my own.  My life matters too, you know."

"It's all that matters to you," Guin shot back.

"That's not true," Connor growled.  "But maybe it should be."

"But it is true.  You always have to have things your way.  You are an overbearing, selfish, thoughtless ogre," she spat out, narrowing her eyes as she turned her face toward him.  "Is that what being 500 years old does to you?"

Connor sighed in exasperation.  "Guin..."

"Don't you 'Guin' me.  That suck-up voice isn't going to do anything to me tonight.  Go work it on somebody else, you drunken tyrant."  Guin's poisonous gaze stopped Connor from answering.  Instead, he quietly stood up and left the room, gently closing the door behind him.  Guin wrapped her arms around her thighs, set her chin on her knees and closed her eyes.  Must calm down, she told herself.  Must break bad mood before it breaks me.  She took a deep breath and sighed, willing the black cloud surrounding her to go away.  Guin sat for a half-hour, trying to focus on sunny fields of heather and any other thoughts that might lift her mood, to no avail.  It was then she realized that even if she slept here in her room, she'd want her nightgown -- the nights were cold, and she didn't have anything in this room warm enough to sleep in.  Damn, she thought angrily.  Guess I'll have to hope he's already asleep.

Guin quietly crept into their bedroom and over to the bed.  Connor's still form was silhouetted under the comforter.  Thank God, she said to herself, reaching under her pillow for her nightgown.  A hand closed around her wrist, and she yanked her arm away with a yelp. Connor quickly snatched her nightgown and held it against his chest.  "If you want it, you have to come get it."

Guin narrowed her eyes at him, rapidly raising her hand and bringing it down, intended for a stinging slap.  Connor caught her wrist as her hand came within inches of his face, and he yanked her onto the bed.  "Let me go!" she hissed, wrenching her arm from his grasp once again.  "Give me that!"  Guin pulled at her nightshirt, but Connor refused to let her have it.

"If you want it, you have to stay here and talk to me," he told her sternly.

"Fine.  I'll sleep in my clothes."  Guin stood up, giving him the evil eye before she stormed out.

"Guin, come back here."  Connor followed her into the hallway.  "Guin..."  Her steps quickened as Connor tried to catch up.  He was almost behind her when she entered her room and slammed the door in his face.  Connor heard the lock turn, but attempted the door handle anyway.  "Guin, let me in," he pleaded.

"Go away."

"Guin, please..."

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?  Why don't you go bother someone else for a change and leave me the hell alone!"

Connor looked down at the door handle he was still grasping and contemplated picking the fairly uncomplicated lock.  Hell, I probably have the key somewhere, he thought, leaning his forehead against the door.  But I won't.  I can't.  She'd kill me.  Connor smiled wistfully.  And she'd probably 'kill' me a few times before taking my head, just for the hell of it.  Sliding his hand off the knob, Connor reluctantly turned back toward his bedroom.

"Guin, wake up," Connor said gently, sitting down next to her on the bed and shaking her shoulder.

"Uhhhh," she moaned, fighting him off in her half-asleep state.

"Guin, you're going to be late."

Guin finally opened her eyes and realized who was leaning over her.  Her gaze turned steely.  "What are you doing in here?"

"Trying to get your butt out of bed so you won't be late," Connor replied flatly.  He stroked her face.  "You're warm."  Connor put his hand against her forehead.  "Too warm.  I'm calling you in sick."

"You can't do that!" she said fiercely.  "I have to go in!"

"Guin, you have a fever.  You will not even think about going in to work."

Guin stubbornly sat up.  Connor could plainly see now that her face was flushed.  Guin narrowed her eyes and frowned.  "But there's things I have to do...and my evaluation..."

"It will show how responsible you really are if you stay home and take care of yourself, rather than going to work and passing this around.  Besides, if you're feeling this shaky, you're probably not going to be working up to par anyway."  Connor tried to lay her back down on the bed, but Guin fought him off.

"I'm going to work, Connor.  Leave me the hell alone."  Guin rolled off the other side of the bed and padded toward the bathroom.

Connor shook his head.  "I should know better by now."  Slowly he stood up and went off to get ready for work himself.

The phone rang once, and Connor snatched up the receiver.  "Beaton Antiques."

"Connor, this is Giles."  The voice on the other end of the line sounded exasperated.

"What can I do for you?" Connor replied, leaning back in his chair.

"Your significant other is being a pain in the arse."

Connor laughed.  "And that's news to you, Giles?"

Giles returned the laugh.  "No, I suppose not.  Seriously, though, I know she's wasn't feeling well when she came in, and I think she's getting worse.  But she won't leave.  Would you consider doing both her and me a big favor and come drag her out of here?"

"It was her choice to go in this morning," Connor said firmly, "and she wouldn't let me talk her into staying home then.  I don't think I'd be able to do it now."  Connor paused thoughtfully.  "She's that bad?"

"Mmm hmm," Giles answered.  "I really think she could use some sleep.  Honestly, I'm afraid to push to send her home, it probably isn't safe for her to drive.  She won't let me call a doctor, but I'm tempted to anyway."

Connor raised his brows.  "I'll be right there."  With a brief explanation to Jason, Connor dashed out of the store and quickly steered his Range Rover to the ScotExports building.  Giles met him at the door.

"I can't believe she came in today," Giles remarked to him.  "Granted, we're busy, but it's ridiculous for her to risk her health like this."

Connor nodded.  "I'll do what I can to get her out of here."  Connor stopped cold in the doorway to Guin's office.  She was leaned back in her chair, visibly flushed, her eyes half glazed over.  Guin's eyes traveled slowly over to him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked flatly.

"I'm here to take you home," Connor responded, moving over to her desk.

Guin shook her head.  "I'm not going home."

"You are going home with me," Connor said firmly.  "You're in no shape to be here."

"I am not going..." Guin replied angrily as she stood up.  Connor could tell by her expression that her head was swimming, and he caught her just as her knees began to buckle.

Connor held her close to him.  "You're coming if I have to carry you," he asserted.  "Can you walk?"  Guin nodded.  Connor bid Giles goodbye as he helped Guin out to the Range Rover and settled her into the passenger's side.  The trip home passed in silence, with Guin beginning to nod off.  After parking in front of the house, Connor carried her upstairs and laid Guin in her bed.  He checked her vitals to make sure this illness wasn't more than it appeared, then retrieved a thermometer to check her temperature.

Guin wiped the back of her hand across her forehead as Connor took the thermometer out of her mouth.  "I'm hot."

"I know."  Connor set the thermometer aside and brushed Guin's hair from her face.  "You're sick.  Looks like it's some sort of flu, probably intensified by your stress level and your insistence on going to work today.  You should be all right if you rest, but if it gets any worse, you are going to a doctor."

"Noooo," Guin groaned.

"You're not going to get out of it with any childish whining, either.  You're not Immortal, and I won't have anything happening to you just because you don't like doctors."  Connor removed her jacket and began to undo the fasteners on her clothes.  "You will get into your nightgown, you will crawl under those covers and you will get some rest.  I'll bring you some tea and something to eat, and then I expect you to sleep the afternoon away."  He toyed with the phone.  "The first speed-dial button is programmed for the office downstairs.  I'll be working down there.  I asked Jason to forward my e-mail and to send me any messages that need to be taken care of right away."

Guin nodded in response.  Connor brought Guin her nightgown, then the tea and soup as promised; but Guin ate little, curling up to sleep instead.

It was mid-afternoon when Guin opened her eyes again.  To her surprise, Connor was sitting in the computer chair next to her, watching her.  "How do you feel?" he asked gently, moving to sit on the bed.

Guin shrugged.  "Not as warm."

"Good."  Connor pressed his lips against her forehead, then nodded.  "Your temperature has definitely gone down."

Guin closed her eyes, then looked up at him again.  "I'm sorry, Connor."

Connor shook his head.  "It's no problem for me to be here with you."  He smiled at her.  "Not when you need me."

"Not just for that, Connor.  For last night."  Guin wiped a stray tear from her eye.

"Oh.  That."  Connor shrugged and tweaked her nose playfully.  "It takes two to fight.  But only one to deliver one hell of an uppercut."  He rubbed his jaw tauntingly, but grinned.

Guin's lips twitched into a smile.  She reached over to hold his hand.  "I owe you."

"For what?"  Connor squeezed her hand and tilted his head.

"For not being upset with my behavior last night.  For making me come home, for everything."

"That's what I'm here for, sweetheart."

Guin shook her head.  "You're not here to be my babysitter..."

"Only occasionally."  He winked at her.  "We take care of each other.  It's part of the deal, right?"

"Like you'll ever need this kind of taking care of..."

Connor shook his head.  "You take care of me when I come home after a fight."

"That's different."

"Is it?"  He cocked his head to one side.  "How?"

Guin shrugged.  "It just is."

Connor shook his head.  "I disagree, but I'm not going to argue with you today.  You don't need it."

"You didn't get one ounce of work done, did you?" she scolded.

The slight blush on Connor's face revealed that she'd hit the mark.  "I got done what needed to be done.  Everything else can wait."

"You sacrifice too much for me."  Guin frowned and averted her eyes.

"I don't sacrifice enough for you," Connor replied.  "You won't let me," he added with a laugh.

"I should have listened to you this morning and not gone in.  Then you wouldn't have gotten interrupted at work."

"No, I wouldn't have, because I wouldn't have gone to work.  Do you really think I would have left you alone when you're sick?"

Guin shrugged.  "You could have."

Connor shook his head.  "You were warmer than hell this morning, there's no way I would have left you home alone.  Bad enough you forced me to let you go to work."

"I'm sorry you had to take care of me."

Connor continued to shake his head, unable to believe his ears.  "This is not something you owe me for, all right?  I didn't do it out of some overblown chivalrous sense of obligation, I did it because I love you and I worry about you.  There was no other choice."

"Like Elisabeth."

Connor shrugged, knitting his brows.  "Sort of, I suppose."

"So I'm more like a wayward child than an equal."  Guin frowned.

"Let's not get started with that again..."

"But it's true, isn't it?  I'm just a baby, someone for you to take care of."  Guin guiltily sunk down into the covers and turned away from him.

"Guin," Connor said gently, touching her shoulder, "don't do this."  He smoothed back her hair.  "I'm not going to argue with you now.  Get some more rest, it'll make you feel better."  Connor leaned over to kiss her cheek, and Guin touched his hand.

"Connor?" she said quietly.

"Hmmm?"

"Don't leave me."  She bit her lip, and Connor could see a single tear straggle down her cheek.  Silently he sat against the headboard and pulled Guin into his lap.  "I'm sorry, Connor," Guin whispered.

"I love you, Guin," he whispered back as he cradled her.  "And it's normal to be irritable when you're sick.  Don't worry about it."

Guin closed her eyes, and tears began to cascade down her cheeks.  Connor wiped them away, but they came faster and faster until Guin was lost in sobbing.  "Shhh," he hushed her gently, rocking her body back and forth.  "It's all right."

"I have been so stressed..." she mumbled through her tears.

"I know."

"...and I haven't been sleeping..."

"I know."

"...and I've taken it out on you..."

"Don't worry about it."

"...and I've been so selfish and childish..."

"Don't say that."

"...and now I've gotten myself sick, and I've disappointed the people at work, and I've disappointed you..."

"Shh," Connor admonished her.  "You haven't disappointed anybody.  Not another word now.  Just relax."  Guin sniffled, and he added, "You can let it all out.  I'm right here."  Connor cradled her to him, his own face fraught with worry as he looked down at Guin's frowning and tearful visage.  He drew her more tightly to him as she put her arms around his torso, and he pulled the covers up over them.  "Shh," he repeated, kissing Guin's brow as her sobs began to subside.  "It's all right.  Sleep now."

Connor looked up as John appeared in the doorway.  John said nothing, but raised a brow at his father.  "She's sick," Connor explained.  And making herself worse with fretting, he added to himself.  "Think you can fend for yourself for dinner?"

John nodded.  "Sure.  You want anything?" he offered.

Connor shook his head.  "Not right now.  I might get us something later."  John nodded again and headed downstairs.  Connor wondered for a moment why Guin hadn't reacted to John's voice, then realized she was probably hiding her tears.  Gently he stroked Guin's hair back from her face as her breathing turned steady and sleepy.  Poor thing, he thought to himself.  This stress does you no good.  Let's hope the nightmares stay away tonight.

Connor awoke several hours later as he felt Guin stir.  "Bad dreams?" he asked worriedly.

Guin shook her head.  "No.  But I'm starving!"

"Considering you didn't eat much all day, I'd say that was normal."  Connor smiled.  "And a good sign, that you have an appetite.  I'll go down and get you something...."

"I need to stand up and work my legs," she protested.  "I'll get something myself."  Guin stood up shakily, then sat back down.  "But it may take a few tries."

"Let me help you."  Connor stood up and offered her his arm, and Guin eased herself to her feet.  "You've just been in bed too long," he surmised.  "You'll be fine once you get moving."

"Yeah.  Sure."  The pair moved along slowly, down the hall to the landing, down the steps and into the kitchen.  Connor left Guin to sit on one of the barstools at the counter.

"What would you like me to make for you?" he offered.

"I dunno."  Guin thought a moment.  "No soup.  Something solid."  She rubbed her abdomen.  "But nothing too exciting -- I think my stomach's a little sour."

"Usually is, after being empty so long."  Connor rummaged through the refrigerator.  "An omelet?  Something basic...eggs, cheese, turkey?"

"Protein...that'd be good.  And whatever that substance is in turkey that puts you to sleep.  Sounds promising."

"Didn't you sleep well?"  Connor voice reflected his worry as he assembled the ingredients.

Guin shrugged.  "I slept all right, I suppose.  Had some odd dreams, but nothing nightmare-ish."  She sighed.  "I'm sorry, Connor."

Connor furrowed his brow.  "For what?"

"For everything you've had to do for me," she replied.  "Bringing me home, taking time off to take care of me today...." she glanced briefly at the clock.  "Well, yesterday, technically.  For not leaving me alone.  For cooking for me at two in the morning."  Guin blushed.  "I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything," Connor insisted.  "And you and I are both staying home tomorrow so you can recuperate."

Guin made a face.  "Not exactly what I wanted in terms of spending time together."

"No.  But it might be that your body is telling you that you need to take a break."  Connor looked at her pointedly.

"Please don't start."  Guin shook her head.  "I don't have much of a choice but to devote myself to work right now.  Pretty soon that'll die down, and then I can take a break."

Connor shrugged.  "If you don't have a nervous breakdown first."  Guin began to protest, but Connor interrupted her.  "Eat," he insisted.  "Then we can go back to bed."
 

Guin snorted.  "It's noon already."

"Good thing they're not working on the new room this morning, the noise would have woken you up hours ago."  Connor smiled.  "Good to see your sarcastic sense of humor is back, though."  He turned back to the computer screen, frowning.  "Wish my clients had a sense of humor."

"Anything I can do to help, since I'm the one keeping you away from your workplace?"

Connor gave her a disapproving look, but nodded, pointing to a pile on the chair opposite him.  "Sort the mail.  I'm expecting a couple of orders to come in here at the house, some people Rachel and Duncan recommended me to."

Guin flipped through the envelopes, reading off the names under her breath as she tossed them into separate piles.  "Beaton... Beaton... occupant... Barnes... Beaton Antiques... Jack..." Guin gripped the last envelope, her face paling.

"Jack?" Connor repeated, looking up from his work, eyebrows raised.

"Carol Jackson," Guin said quietly, staring at the familiar handwriting.  "But how the hell did he get my address here?"

"Who?"

"Misha."  Guin looked at the envelope as if she were facing a rattlesnake, afraid and unmoving.

"Are you going to open it?" Connor quizzed her.

Guin shook her head.  "Not yet.  I need to mentally prepare for whatever he might have to say."  She looked over at Connor, who was still eyeing her.  "You're not worried about this, are you?"

Connor shrugged as he turned his eyes back to the screen.  "He is your ex."

"Are you jealous?" Guin bit back her laugh as Connor didn't answer, but shifted un- comfortably in his chair.  Guin walked up to him and smoothed back his hair.  "I'm sure it's nothing.  I can't imagine why he's writing, but I certainly don't love him anymore.  So stop yer frettin', bucko."

Connor laughed.  "All right, all right."  He put his arm around Guin's waist.  "Just open the letter before you start fretting too much yourself."

"I will."  Guin grabbed her mail and jogged out of the office.
 

"Hungry?" he asked her.

"Oh yeah!" she replied enthusiastically, but her eyes betrayed a menagerie of uneasy thoughts.  "Here," she added as she stood up, straightening the papers together and sliding them into her desk drawer, "let me make lunch.  I still owe you for making you stay home."  She smiled at him, then hurried downstairs.

Connor made sure she wasn't turning around, then slid the drawer open and glanced at the letter inside.  His Russian was a bit rusty, but the contents of the letter were easily understandable.  Misha had coerced Guin's new address from her old "friend" Mary -- though where Mary had gotten it from, Connor saw no indication.  Misha had written to say that he was separating from his wife, and was declaring his love for Guin again after all these years.  To top it off, Misha wanted to meet up with her, since she was in Europe and closer to him.  Connor glanced at the paper Guin had been writing on, but she had only jotted down the date.

Connor sighed.  She says she doesn't love him anymore, he thought, but that doesn't mean she won't change her mind.  Especially since he doesn't have the problem of Immortality.  Connor closed his eyes and shook his head.  I won't push the issue -- I'm not sure I want to know what she's thinking anyway.  I just hope she thinks her options through thoroughly.
 

"Pretty miserable day for a training session, teach," Thomas called out as he stepped from his car.

"Miserable?" Connor replied, arching a brow.  "Nah.  The sun is shining, it's not snowing, just a little cold.  A perfect day."

"I'd have to disagree with you there, boss," Jason answered, getting out of the second car that had pulled up.  "It's too damned cold.  And windy."

"Ah, but perfect conditions for a training session in difficult terrain," Ceirdwyn responded, stepping from the second car as well.  The two trainees groaned, but followed Connor as he led the way toward the side of the house.  There had been a large depression in the ground there, which had become a pond with the recent rain and melted snow, and which was now a perfect ice-skating rink.

"Slick surfaces," Connor began, stepping onto the ice and sliding gracefully for a few feet, "can be either a detriment or an asset to your fight,  depending on how it's used.  You both skate?"  The men nodded.  "Good.  Then we'll skip the basics and go straight to combat techniques."  Ceirdwyn joined Connor on the ice and they both drew their swords.  The two older Immortals demonstrated a few techniques in both balance and swordsmanship, then pitted the two relative novices against each other as they watched.

"Thomas is getting pretty good," Ceirdwyn remarked.

"He's learned a lot since he wandered into my shop three months ago," Connor answered.  "He's a quick study."

"Speaking of quick studies...Guin's been canceling her swordwork lessons a lot lately."

Connor nodded, keeping an eye on the combatants.  "She's been busy.  Work's eating up all of her time."  Connor suddenly stiffened.  "Don't trade balance for flair, Thomas," he called out.  "Winning often depends on keeping your feet."

"Coming to class now and then would help Guin relieve her stress," Ceirdwyn added casually.

"You can tell her that," Connor replied.  "We've had enough 'discussions' about taking time away from her work to last us a lifetime."

"Ah.  I see."  Ceirdwyn fell silent for a moment.  "How's she feeling?  Has the fever gone down?"

Connor nodded.  "She seems to have recovered.  She went back to work yesterday, but Giles insisted she take today off.  She's been working too many weekends as it is, he thought she needed at least one off.  But Guin's up in her room now, and I'll wager she's answering e-mail that deals with work, despite swearing she wouldn't."

"Sounds like her."  Ceirdwyn smiled, then frowned.  "Duncan gave me a message for you, not sure why he didn't just tell you himself before he left..."

"Did he go back to the monastery?" Connor interrupted her.

Ceirdwyn looked at him in surprise.  "Yeah."

"He knew I'd lecture him about ducking in and out of the game," Connor replied dourly.  "And the message was?..."

"He said that Joe told him there was someone tracking you down, and they were getting close.  And that this Immortal was after you because of the aftermath of Brenda's death."  Ceirdwyn glanced over at Connor.  "I don't know much of that part of your life..."

"And you don't want to know," Connor said with finality.

"Fair enough," Ceirdwyn replied.

"Nothing more?" Connor inquired.  "No name?"

Ceirdwyn shook her head.  "No."  She bit back a cheer as Jason made a move that landed Thomas flat on his back.  "If there's anything you need, Connor..."

"How about some sparring this afternoon?" he asked nonchalantly.  "Indoors, where it's warm and dry.  It's been a while since I had a good session."

"Make it this evening and you're on," she replied as they began to walk toward the triumphant Jason looming over Thomas.  "I'm spending the day with Sam, but I'll be back afterward."

"It's good to see that you two are getting along so well."  Connor grinned.

"Well, I can blame you two, since Guin introduced me to him through her work."

"That was entirely business," Connor replied, "you're the one who took it farther than that."

"What can I say, the chemistry made me do it."  Ceirdwyn patted Jason on the back as she reached him.  "Good show!"

"I told you, drop the fancy swordwork, Thomas," Connor chided his student.  "It looks good, but in the down-and-dirty world of Immortals, it's not going to score you points.  And it could cost you your head."

"Don't be so hard on him, Connor," Ceirdwyn scolded.  "He was doing pretty good."

Connor shrugged, but offered Thomas a hand to help him up.  "Yeah, you did pretty good.  Let's get some coffee and get warmed up before I make you do it all over again."
 

"Cute, very cute," she retorted.

"And how much work did you get done?" he taunted further.

"I'll have you know that I was being good to my word -- I've been busy replying to the personal e-mail that I've been neglecting.  So there."  Guin stuck out her tongue playfully.

"I'm glad to see you're in such a good mood."  Connor's face clouded over slightly.  "I have a proposition for you two," he said, nodding toward the table to include John.

"What's up?" Guin took a seat at the table.

"I thought it would be a good idea if the three of us got away for a while," Connor began.  "Say, a month or so in Marrakesh."

"A month or so?" Guin repeated incredulously.  "And what about the antique shop?  My job?  John's school?"

"Jack's a certified tutor," Connor replied.  "I can leave the shop in Jason's hands, do what I need to by phone and fax and e-mail.  And you could use getting away for a while."

"And just when were you planning on starting this trip?" Guin gave him a still-disbelieving stare.

Connor shrugged.  "Next week..."

"Next week?!?" Guin exclaimed.  "Next week?  Do you know how swamped I am at work?  I'd be fired if I suddenly took off for a month.  And you're going to yank John out of school and away from his friends for that long?"  She turned to John.  "Do you want to go?"

John shrugged.  "I like Marrakesh, but I'd miss my friends."

Guin faced Connor again.  "How can you even think of turning our lives upside down like this?"  Connor had fallen silent, and continued his mute behavior as he finished preparing the sandwiches and set them on the table.  "Connor, answer me.  What has gotten you so eager to get out of town?"

"There's someone on my trail that I don't want to deal with," he admitted.

"Another Immortal?" she asked, surprised.  "Even if you run, they'll find you.  And why are you trying to get away anyway?  You don't run from fights..."

"And you don't know everything about me," Connor shot back in a biting tone.

"Obviously I don't," she replied, her tone equally sharp.  "Because I don't understand why you'd run, unless you're certain he's better than you..."

"He's not better than me..."

"Then why are you so anxious to get away?  Don't get me wrong, this worries me immensely, and I certainly don't want to see you fight if you don't have to.  But it seems
so unlike you to run away from the Game."

"I'm not running away from it, all right?" Connor shouted.  "I'm just tired of it, and I feel like getting away for a while."

"So is that what it's really like to be Immortal?" Guin asked irritably.

"What?" Connor furrowed his brow.

"If you get a little bored or restless you just take off...hell, why not just start over some- where else, create a new identity and leave everything behind, even if it means leaving a mess -- or people you love -- in your wake?"  Guin stood up and began pacing the length of the kitchen.

"For one, it's not that easy," Connor replied heatedly.  "For another, there's no fast and steady rule for any of us, just like there isn't one for mortals.  I don't bother to move around a lot."

"Then what bug is up your butt that you want to leave so bad this time?" she asked, her face flushing with frustration.  "And why are you insisting I should leave everything behind just to follow your sorry little ass?"

Connor's nostrils flared.  "I am not insisting..."

"If you're that hot to go, then go by yourself.  John and I can handle ourselves here.  But don't interrupt our lives just to go run off for a while.  Piss your own life away, not ours.  We don't have as long."  Guin folded her arms over her chest and stared at Connor.

Connor opened his mouth to protest, but one look at the line of Guin's mouth deterred him.  Instead he shook his head and strode toward the fencing room door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Guin fumed.

"To get some practice in.  Ceirdwyn's coming back over this evening, we're going to do some sparring."

Guin narrowed her eyes.  "Sure, one of the few Saturdays I have off, and you waste it play-fighting."

Connor returned her angry stare.  "This needs my attention now, Guin."

"What about me?" she steamed.  "What about when I need you, Connor?"

"The Game is always going to take precedence," he hissed.  "Always.  Deal with it.  What good is your love if I don't have a head?"

"You bastard."  Guin gave him a hard stare, then turned on her heel, grabbed her leather coat off the chair and stormed out the back door, slamming it as she went.  I know you're in your focused phase, but this is bad timing -- I could really use some understanding too.  Guin took her horse from the stables and explored the grounds for several hours, alter- nating between trying to cool down from her fuming and trying to figure out why Connor was so determined to run from another Immortal.  Finally curiosity got the better of her, and she came back to the house.

"Och, come on, Connor!  Or are ye nae longer the Highland warrior you were born?"  Ceirdwyn gave an evil smirk, which faded when she noted the figure standing in the fencing room doorway.  "Hi, Guin."  Guin waved back wordlessly, offering only a half-smile.  "I'm going to get a glass of water," Ceirdwyn announced.  "But you -- keep practicing!" she added, pointing the tip of her sword at Connor before putting it down and turning toward the kitchen door.

Connor frowned, setting down his katana.  "Guinevere, come here," he said, his tone full of seriousness.  She hesitated.  "I'm not going to hurt you.  Come here."  Slowly Guin shuffled over to stand in front of him.  "You can't give me the attitude that you gave me earlier.  If I let anything distract me from the Game, I'm finished.  It's bad enough I have to disassociate myself from you, but fighting with you about it is only going to make things worse -- and possibly get me killed.  You have to support me in this.  Do you understand?"  Guin nodded, swallowing hard.  "I hope so."  Connor looked up suddenly.  "Because if Ceirdwyn can defeat me in practice, then I'm done for when it comes to facing a real fighter," he added cattily, winking as his friendly opponent appeared in the doorway.

Ceirdwyn narrowed her eyes playfully at him and grinned as she picked up her sword again.  "En garde," she growled, moving quickly and gracefully into a fighting stance.  Connor countered her, and they began to circle each other.  Guin took this as her cue to leave, and went to sit down in the kitchen.  Damn you, Connor, she thought, why do you have to be so cold to me?  She shook her head sadly.  No one warned me that the motto for Clan MacLeod was "Attitudes 'R Us."  Guin forced herself upstairs, determined that if nothing else, she was going to get some much-needed sleep tonight.

Guin woke suddenly in the dark of night as she felt Connor climb into bed next to her.  Should've slept in my own room, she thought begrudgingly, her agitation increasing as she felt him toss and turn as he settled in.  Finally she turned to him, ready and eager to complain about being woken up.  The deep, fretful crease between his brows stopped her.  I'm not the only one with problems, she reprimanded herself, reaching over to stroke his forehead.  Connor's brow unfurrowed, and he opened his eyes.

"You should relax," she said gently, meeting his gaze.  Connor closed his eyes again and sighed.

"Guin, I..."

"Shhh," she stopped him, brushing her fingers against his temple.  "The best thing you can do for your focus right now is to relax and get some sleep.  Take a deep breath."  Connor did so, letting it out in a hefty sigh.  Guin laughed.  "Well, that's not exactly the way you're supposed to do it, but it'll do for the first one.  Take another deep breath, and let it out slowly.  Feel your breath give calm to your muscles, and let the tension go as you exhale..."  Guin's soft voice led him through the relaxation exercise, instructing him to tighten and relax the muscles from toes to head, one area at a time.

Connor's eyes fluttered open as she finished.  "I owe you an apology."

"Well, I haven't exactly been Miss Congeniality lately, so consider us even."

"But..."

"No buts.  It's in the past now, let it go.  Get some sleep."  Guin rolled onto her back.  "Want a different pillow?" she said invitingly.

Connor smiled, curling around her body and laying his head against her shoulder.  He closed his eyes and sighed.  Guin gently laid her cheek against the top of his head, absorbing the warmth of his body pressed against her.  She could feel his weariness radiating outward.  Connor sighed again, heavily.

"I can't sleep."  Connor shifted, trying to find a comfortable position.

"Try."  Guin kissed his forehead and rubbed his back.  "Let your mind go."  She carefully scanned Connor's fretful face, then cradled him against her as she began to hum through her repertoire of old Gershwin tunes, the comfort of days gone by enveloping them as they settled to sleep.
 

"Dad?" John's worried voice called through the door.  "Guin?"

"It's all right," Connor reassured him.  He gazed down at Guin, whose eyes were now closed.  "Just a very bad dream."

"Oh.  Okay."  After a moment's hesitation, John's footsteps padded back down the hall.

Connor released Guin's hands, and he went back to his side of the bed.  Gingerly Connor wiped the sweat from her brow and pushed her hair away from her face.  "Are you all right?"

Guin shook her head.  "It was so intense...he..."  The expression on Guin's face told Connor she was swallowing the bile down out of her throat.  "I can't say it," she whispered.

"Was it Mason?" Connor asked quietly, stretching himself out and facing her.

Guin nodded.  "He...he had me and..."

"Shhh.  Don't think about it."

"I have to, Connor."  Guin looked over at him.  "If I don't say it, I'll never get it out of my head."  She took a deep breath.  "In my dream, he was...he was raping me."

Connor stared at her in shock.  She wasn't his woman, she was your woman, and she never told you, the Kurgan's voice echoed in his mind.  "Did he rape you?" Connor questioned.

"For real?"  Guin furrowed her brow as she rolled on her side toward him.  "No."

"You're sure?"

"Are you accusing me of lying?"  Guin threw Connor a dark look and shoved him away.  "I don't need that shit right now, thank you, not after that dream."  She curled up, pulling her arms to her chest.

Connor gazed at her silently for a moment, then gently drew one of her wrists away from her body, running his fingers down to uncurl her fist.  Connor squeezed her palm, then tugged her hand.  "Come over here."

Reluctantly Guin curled up against him.  "I shouldn't get so mad at you," she said guiltily.

Connor stroked her hair as he embraced her.  "I'm not going to let you get cross with me when you need me.  Not tonight."  Not when I'm responsible, he added to himself.  Another Immortal comes after me, and your never-ending dreams about Mason intensify.  That's not a coincidence.
 

Except for the whistling wind, the house was quiet when Guin returned.  The door to Connor's office was open a crack, and she could see him still working as she peered inside.  Guin pushed the door open and walked in.

"Connor, you've been at that all day," she chided.  "Come watch TV with me."  He glanced up at her darkly, but didn't respond.  "C'mon, just take a break with me."

Connor frowned hard.  "I can't."

"Yes you can, c'mon..."

"Get out of my office," he interrupted her stonily.

"See, look at your temper, you need a break..."

"GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!" he shouted furiously.

Guin's eyes opened wide.  She breathed in slowly, then out. "Okay.  I'll be in my room if you need me."  Guin jogged up the stairs and settled down to read, interrupting herself only long enough to throw together some dinner, which Connor politely refused.  It was quite late by the time Guin finished the last page, and she set the book down with a sigh.  It's been so long since I've been able to spend some time reading, she lamented.  I miss it.  Finally she picked herself up and wandered over to the master bedroom.

Connor was stretched out on his side, his breathing soft and even.  Guin tried not to shake the bed as she climbed in, gazing upon his face with concern.  Softly she stroked Connor's cheek, and his eyes popped open.  "I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered.  Silently Connor reached up and pushed her hair back behind her ear.  Guin leaned over to kiss his cheek.  "Are you all right?" she asked.  Connor nodded.  "You don't look all right," she scolded, and he averted his eyes.  "Are you mad at me, Connor?"

He shook his head.  "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."  Connor ran his fingers along her jawline.  "Are you upset with me?"

"No, of course not.  I know what it's like to have a bad day."  Guin climbed under the covers next to him, cradling his body against her.  Connor sighed, resting his forehead against her chest.  "So, do you still want to go to Marrakesh?" she asked tentatively.

Connor shook his head.  "I can't leave you and John here alone."

"Connor, if you really think we should go..."

"No."  Connor shook his head earnestly.  "You were right, they'd only hunt me down elsewhere, or just be waiting when I came back."  Connor lifted his head to look at her. "And I appreciate your concern, Guin.  I just don't show it very well."  He sighed.  "I shouldn't have raised my voice to you when you were trying to help me."

Tears welled in Guin's eyes.  "I was just trying to pay you back, for all the times you've been there for me lately..."

"You don't owe me," Connor replied quietly.  "You aren't obligated to pay me back for things I do out of love."

"I just wanted to do something good for you, for once."

You've done more for me than you'll ever know, he thought.  "You do plenty," Connor said aloud.

Guin shook her head.  "Seems like I just cause a lot of problems these days."

"You're not the problem," he said gently, settling his forehead against her once again.

Guin frowned to herself.  "Connor, will you tell me one thing?"

"Hmm?" he asked, raising his head a little to see her face.

"This thing with the other Immortal...is it really that bad?" she asked worriedly.  Connor sighed and averted his eyes.  "You don't have to tell me anything more, just tell me if it's as bad as it sounds."  Connor nodded, closing his eyes.  Guin rolled over, stretching out on her back.  "Come here," she said gently, pulling him toward her.  Connor curled around her, laying his head on her chest as she wrapped her arms around him.  "That's better," Guin whispered, stroking his soft hair and pressing her lips to his forehead.  Like the night before, she could feel Connor's weariness as he hefted out a heavy sigh.  I wish I could do more for you, she thought sadly, rubbing his shoulder, be there for you as you are for me.  But you wouldn't let me even if there was something I could do.  So all I can do is love you and hope it helps ease your heart just a bit.
 

The sight that met Guin when she hit the bedroom door made her shudder.  Connor had obviously extracted himself from his clothes a little at a time:  socks and shoes on the floor by the door, jacket on the chair, trousers next to the bed, his shirt and tie strewn on the bed.  Connor himself appeared from the closet in a sweatshirt and jeans.  "Thanks for the mess," she muttered, setting her briefcase by the door and picking up his socks and jacket.

"I didn't ask you to clean it up, did I?" he snapped.  "But you don't give me a chance to pick it up myself."

"Well, if you wouldn't leave it all over the place, no one would have to clean it up later."  Guin picked up his trousers and threw them at him.

"You have to jump on me for everything, don't you?" Connor growled.  "You only think in negatives.  And you always think you've got it worse than anybody else.  Can't I have a lousy day too?"  Guin pouted, and Connor huffed an angry breath through his nose.  "Why do you think that you can scream at me all you want, and yet if I say even one word that might be construed as harsh to you, you get upset or burst into tears?"  Guin frowned at Connor's accusation.  "It's true, isn't it?  I'm supposed to take everything you shovel out, but then I have to watch everything I say in case it offends you.  Sometimes talking to you is like walking through a mine field!"

"And what about you?" Guin shot back.  "You're not exactly Mr. Even-Temper yourself these days.  When something Immortal comes up, you practically take my head by biting it off!"

Connor narrowed his eyes.  "I wouldn't, if you wouldn't blow up at me.  Just because I'm Immortal doesn't make me immune to your spite and your hate.  I'm tired of being your verbal punching bag."  He watched Guin swallow her protest and turn toward the door.  "Go ahead," Connor remarked sourly, "run off and cry, the usual."

Guin turned back to him, her chin raised defiantly.  "I was going to go make dinner, but perhaps I'll go for a drive and just leave you to fend for yourself instead."

"Don't bother," he answered angrily.  "There's plenty to do at the antique shop."  Connor roughly bumped her as he moved past her toward the bedroom door.  He was most of the way down the stairs before Guin lost her self-control, and he stopped short as the sound of her sobs burst forth, then were suddenly muffled as the bedroom door slammed shut.  Connor forced himself down the remainder of the stairs and out the front door.
 

"What's up, John?" Guin replied, eyes still glued to the computer.

"Would you help me with my homework?"

"Uh...sure.  Let me just..." Guin tapped a few keys.  "Let me just finish this page here."  After a few more taps, Guin saved the file and stood up with a relief-giving stretch.  She followed John to his room and sat down with him at his desk.

John pointed out the math problem he was working on.  "I can get it solved up to here, but then I don't know what I'm supposed to do.  And the rest of the problems are all a lot like this one."

Guin scanned the book and gave a brief laugh.  "I don't know if I remember how to do this stuff."  She bit her lip in thought, glancing from what John had done to the book and its examples.  "Okay, I think I know what your problem is, and it's real simple, but an easy enough mistake to make.  Go back a step..."  Guin guided John through the problem, attempting to prompt him without giving him too much help in order to let him figure things out on his own.  "That's it," she said as he completed the problem.  "Make sense?"

John nodded, satisfied.  "Thanks."  After a pause, he added, "Are you mad that I interrupted your work to help me?"

Guin knitted her brow.  "No, of course not.  Why would you ask that?"

John shrugged.  "You've just been real busy.  I didn't want to interrupt you, but Dad's not here to help me."

Guin raised a brow.  "He hasn't come back?"

John shook his head.  "He's not answering the phone at the shop either.  But he might just be busy."

"Yeah," Guin replied, "maybe."  Trying to keep her calm, Guin stood up and walked quickly to the first spare bedroom, where she looked out the window toward the front of the house.  The Range Rover was still missing, the pavement in its place drenched in the rain that had been steadily falling for the past hour.  Having followed her, John rested a hand on Guin's shoulder as she let the curtain drop and sat down on the bed.  "He'll be fine," John reassured her.

Guin cleared her throat.  "I'm sure he will."

John shook his head.  "You're worried that he's going to lose his head because you've been fighting."  Guin dropped her chin, but nodded.  "He'll want to come back and make things right with you.  It'll give him what he needs to win...if that's what he's doing."

Guin smiled at John, but his words didn't keep her stomach from curdling.  I hope you're right, she thought.
 

An unfamiliar Immortal showed himself in the doorway.  "Connor MacLeod?"

"Who wants to know?" Connor replied calmly as he stood up.

"Damon D'Angelo."  The man took a few steps toward the desk, then stopped.

"What can I do for you, Mr. D'Angelo?"  While appearing nonchalant, Connor was quickly calculating distances and potential agility, as well as the possibility for movement in a fight.  Although I'd rather not fight in the shop, he added to himself.

"I've come for your head."  The man's stern look left no doubt he wasn't kidding.

"And may I ask why?" Connor queried, wondering how fast he could get to the katana at his feet if he should suddenly need it.

"You know why.  You killed my wife Katrina twelve years ago."  D'Angelo's face hardened even more.  "Surely you remember her."

"Yes, I do."  Connor's expression remained unchanged, while inside he felt a twinge of guilt beginning.  "She was quite a formidable opponent."

D'Angelo's face turned to disgust.  "You struck down a woman..."

"I fought another Immortal," Connor contradicted, "and I won fairly."

"You accused her of something she didn't do, then you struck her down," D'Angelo asserted firmly.

"She never denied my accusation that she was drug-running," Connor calmly replied.  "She decided to fight me instead of trying to explain herself."

"You could have given her a warning, let her go, shown some mercy," D'Angelo growled.

"She never asked for her life, and at the time, I had no mercy," Connor admitted.

"Then I shall have no mercy for you."  D'Angelo began to remove his weapon from his coat.  "But first I want to hear your side.  I want to know what sorry excuse you have to offer before I take your life."

Connor shrugged.  "Quite simply, when I confronted your wife, I was on a rampage against injustice."  Connor kept his face neutral, but his heart ached with the memory.  "My own mortal wife had just been killed in a car accident, and I dedicated myself to targeting those who were getting away with wrongdoing among mortals."  He shrugged again.  "I could have let your wife go.  But at the time I had no mercy for anyone, because Fate had had no mercy for my wife or me."  Connor's face molded into a frown.  "It was of my own choosing that I became the vendetta-seeker that I was.  But I am no longer that man," Connor added emphatically.

"Nice little story."  D'Angelo's face had not changed from its austere expression.  "Doesn't mean much to me, though."

Connor shook his head.  "I didn't think it would."

"Nice family you've got there."  D'Angelo nodded toward the pictures of John and Guin on Connor's desk.

"Please don't involve them in this," Connor requested, his voice quiet in pleading.  "They've had to deal with the Immortal world enough as it is."

"I wouldn't touch them," D'Angelo replied.  "Unlike you, I have values and honor."  The words were like a dagger in Connor's heart, with D'Angelo's next statement twisting the knife further:  "I'll give you some time to find your conscience and offer your head to me as payment for your horrible deed.  If that isn't your choice, then I will let you know when and where to find me for a fight."  D'Angelo turned and strode out of the shop; Connor heard the bell on the door tinkle in the man's wake.  With waves of apprehension washing over him, Connor shook his head and gathered his things to go home.
 

"Yeah, it's me."  Connor ducked into the bathroom to wash his face, then shed his clothes and climbed into bed.  Guin put aside her teddy bear and wrapped her arms around him, snuggling next to his body.  His hair was damp and his body carried the odor of wet forest and pine; she suspected he'd been out walking the property in the rain for a while, knowing as she did that he knew he way around it like the back of his hand, even in the dark.

"You made it back," she said quietly.

"Yes, I did," Connor replied.

"And your focus was okay?" she asked worriedly.

"It was fine," he answered with a shrug.  "You're making assumptions about what happened, Guin."

"And I'm right, aren't I?" Guin replied, cocking an eyebrow at him.  "And our fighting didn't help any."

"You're only partly right."  Connor looked down at her worried face.  "And you're not responsible for my well-being.  I shouldn't put that pressure on you."  Guin shrugged, but Connor could tell she still felt guilty.

"So what part am I right?" she asked.

"We didn't fight this time.  He just came to warn me."

"Warn you?"  Guin gave a puzzled look.

"Just to watch my step," Connor answered, unsure how much he ought to say.  I'm not going to worry you more than you already are.

"So there's a challenge to you for sometime in the future, basically."  Connor nodded, and Guin sighed.  "It's always something, isn't it?"

"If you want to talk about it, we can," Connor offered.  Even though I don't want to.

Guin shook her head.  "I don't want to talk about Immortality or its problems tonight."

"Well then, we can talk about anything you want.  Work...marriage... children..." he hinted with a smile.  Let me talk about something happy, or at least distracting.

"Things we won't have if work doesn't calm down for me and if you lose your head," Guin replied sourly.

"That was rather blunt," he responded, his voice a bit angry and laced with wariness.

Guin sighed.  "I just don't want to talk about any of that right now," she said quietly.  "I'm too tired to talk.  So not one word about anything serious.  Or about anything at all.  Just hold me, okay?"

Connor tucked his arms around Guin and she rested her head against his shoulder.  You don't want to talk about anything that Immortality gets in the way of, he elaborated for her in his mind.  Or perhaps you just don't want to talk about something that you don't want anymore.  At least not with me.  He kissed her forehead and sighed deeply.

Guin turned her face up to him.  "What's wrong?"  Connor simply shook his head and closed his eyes.  You don't even want to look at me, Guin thought sadly.  You need your space and your focus, and all I do is argue with you and demand too much of your time and emotional strength.  She shifted, pulling back a little from Connor.

"Am I holding you too tight?" he queried.

Guin shook her head.  "No.  Just thought I'd give us a little space."

Connor held back a snort.  Just wanting to get away from me, you mean.  A man who lives and dies by the sword is hard to put up with, isn't he?  He sighed again, putting his hand on Guin's hip but leaving the space between them.
 

"Planning a vacation?" Rebecca inquired, setting down the bag Guin knew held tea and scones.

"Sort of."  Guin pulled one of the scones out of the sack.  "But probably not like you think."  She frowned.  "I think I need to get away from Connor for a while."

Rebecca stiffened.  "Is he hurting you?"

"Oh no," Guin replied, shaking her head firmly.  "Nothing like that.  You can put your battered-woman instincts away."  Guin offered a sad smile.  "It's just...we're having a few problems.  We're both stressed out right now, and stumbling into each other's way.  I was thinking of finding a place I could stay for a week or two, just to give each other space.  I need a chance to take a good look at things, that's all."

"And what might this lead to?"  Rebecca looked her in the eye.

Guin shrugged.  "I dunno.  No, I take it back, I do know.  Yes, it might mean that...well, that we'll break up.  The potential's there, I suppose, since something has to give.  But there's a lot of things I need to think through, not just about us.  It's more about my job, anyway."

"And you're not going to talk this out with him?"  Rebecca stared at Guin from under a raised brow.

"We need the space to get some calm rationality back in our lives, I think, before we can talk things out.  And I need to do some thinking first."  Guin sighed.  "I dunno.  I haven't made a firm decision on this 'vacation' yet, anyway.  The thought usually hits me when we're at our worst, then the idea fades.  But that's why I'm considering it seriously now, the time away may do us some good."  Guin frowned thoughtfully.  "You don't think I'm right, do you?" she accused.

"No, I don't," Rebecca admitted.  "But it's your situation and your decision, and no relationship works exactly the same way as any other relationship.  This could very well be what you need, whether I think so or not."  Rebecca tapped her cup, contemplating.  "But what you'll need if you do need to get away is a support system.  Mike and I have a spare room that you're welcome to stay in for a while.  He's away on business for the next few weeks, I'm sure he won't mind you staying with me."

"I couldn't do that to you," Guin protested.  "I won't have you put out like that."

"I insist," Rebecca said firmly.  "I'm not going to leave you alone while you're ruminating on the rest of your life.  Just let me know, you can come stay with me on a moment's notice if you feel the need."  Rebecca looked at her friend seriously.  "I've been worried about you working so hard anyway, I wouldn't mind keeping a closer eye on you."

Guin smiled.  "Why am I not surprised?"  She let out a long breath.  "I don't know when this is going to happen, if at all.  But I'll let you know when I decide."

"Fair enough."  Rebecca gave Guin the cross-examining look again.  "So how late are you staying tonight?"

"Only until 7 or so.  But I'm tired enough to go home now."  She yawned to emphasize her point.  "When I do get home, I think I'm going to collapse into bed."
 

"Are you coming to bed?" she asked sleepily as she arrived at his side.

"Soon.  I'm going to read a little more."  Or I'll never fall asleep, he added to himself.

"Oh.  Okay."  Guin tried to hide her disappointment, but Connor could plainly read it in her face.  He put aside his book.

"Come here."  Connor smiled as Guin gave him a puzzled look.  Gently he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her as she snuggled against him.

"I'm interrupting your reading time," Guin commented.

"I don't care," Connor replied, squeezing her tightly.  He took a deep breath in her hair, letting it out with a sigh.  I need you, he thought.  And I need you to need me.  Sometimes you're the only thing keeping me sane.

Guin toyed with Connor's shirt collar, her worry stirred by the waves of indecipherable emotions she saw in his stormy eyes.  "I love you, Connor," she said quietly.

"I know."  He kissed her temple, his soft breath ruffling her hair.

"Even when I do or say things that seem like I don't..."

"I know."  Connor tilted her chin up and kissed her.  "What's bothering you?"

Guin shook her head.  "Nothing."

It's not nothing, but I'm in no mood to push you into talking.  We'll just end up fighting.  Connor kissed her deeply.  "You don't seem very enthusiastic about my kisses," he teased.

"I'm not."  She sighed.  "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"  Connor tilted his head in puzzlement as he gazed at Guin's face.

"For not being interested in...you know."  Guin frowned.  "I'm sorry I'm disappointing you.  Again."

"That's not the only thing I want," he scolded gently.  Connor pulled her close and settled his cheek against the crown of her head.

"Do you love me, Connor?" Guin asked quietly.

Connor furrowed his brow.  "Of course I do."  He tilted her chin up again, troubled by the fretting he could see going on in her mind.  "Let's go to bed," he suggested.  "I think we could both use some sleep to take our minds off things."
 

"Why aren't you getting ready?" Connor asked, buttoning his cuffs.

"Getting ready?" she echoed dully.  "For what?"

"We're meeting Ceirdwyn and Sam for dinner tonight, remember?"

"No, I don't remember.  When did you tell me about this?  Or did you?"

"I told you last weekend."  Finished with his cuffs, Connor began tying his tie.

"And you didn't bother reminding me about it?"

"I reminded you last night," Connor replied, exasperated.

"Oh," she said hollowly.  "Well, I'm not going."

"C'mon, you have to go.  I promised..."

"I don't feel like it, all right?" Guin raised her voice angrily.

Connor grimaced, but nodded.  "Fine.  I'll let Ceirdwyn know you weren't feeling well."  He turned and walked down the hallway.  Guin rested her forehead in her hand, shaking her head.  This snipping was all the proof she needed; she had to follow through on her plan.

Lifting herself wearily from the chair, she headed downstairs.  John was in the kitchen getting a glass of water.  Connor was stepping from his office, tie askew; Guin stopped him and tied it properly.  "Can I talk to you?" she asked quietly, reinserting his tie tack and smoothing the tie against his chest.  Connor nodded.  "Both of you, actually," she added, waving John over.  "Let's go into the den."  Connor and John took seats on the sofa, looking at her expectantly.  Guin wringed her hands nervously as she seated herself on the edge of the coffee table, unable to meet their gazes.  "You know my life's been going through a lot of changes lately," she began, "and it's been turning everything upside- down."  They nodded.  "Well, I've decided that I need to sort things through, do some reevaluating...and I need some time and space to do that."  Guin took a deep breath.
"I'm going to move out for a little while."

"What?" John exclaimed, a vocalization of the silent shock in Connor's face.  "You can't do that!"

"I need to, honey," she replied gently.

John frowned in disappointment.  "Then when are you coming back?"

"I don't know, kiddo...a couple of weeks, maybe..."

"Are you coming back?" Connor asked, finally finding his voice as he looked at her.

Guin lowered her eyes.  "To be honest, I don't know that either.  Depends on what conclusions I come to."  She raised her eyes again, but Connor was looking away now.

"That's not fair, Guin!" John said angrily.  "I thought you wanted to be here.  I thought you cared about us!"

"I love you guys," she responded guiltily, putting a hand on each's knees.  "I just need a little time and space..."

"You don't have to leave to get that," Connor replied coldly.

"Yes, I do.  I love it here, but I need a little room to breathe right now, and evaluate things."

John stood up and rushed out of the room, in a run by the time he hit the door.  "John," she called after him.  "John, wait..."

"Let him go," Connor advised.  "He needs the space now."  Guin frowned, but nodded.  Connor stood up.  "I have to go meet Ceirdwyn.  So when are you leaving, now that you've made this decision?"

Guin shrugged.  "I'd talked about this with Rebecca, she said I could stay with her for a couple of weeks.  Then I can decide where I'm going from there.  All I really need is some clothes and my computer, for now.  The rest I'll deal with later.  So as soon as Rebecca gives me the okay -- probably tomorrow, since it's Saturday and she'll have the time -- I'll be out of your way."

Connor laid his hand gently on her shoulder.  "You're not in my way, Guin."

Guin lifted his hand and kissed his palm.  "Wish I could believe you."

"Listen, if you need anything..."

"...I know where to come."  Guin looked into his face.  "I just need some time, Connor...I wish I could explain it better, but I..."

He shook his head.  "No need to explain.  Just come back when you're ready."  Connor paused, searching her eyes.  "I hope it's soon."

Guin looked away.  "I hope so too."
 

"Where's Guin?" Ceirdwyn inquired, not sure that she wanted an answer.

"She's not feeling well," Connor responded flatly.

"You don't look so good yourself," Ceirdwyn commented, offering him a look of concern.  Connor shrugged.

"What'll you have, Connor?" Sam asked, standing up.  "Glenmorangie?"

Connor nodded.  "Yes.  Thank you."

"I'll be back in a few."  Sam kissed Ceirdwyn's cheek and walked over to the bar.

"I've got him trained well," Ceirdwyn said slyly.  "He always knows when to back away from a conversation."

"Now if he only knew why he should back away..."

"He knows."  Ceirdwyn smiled at Connor's incredulous look.  "I told him last week.  I sorta had to.  But I'll explain that later.  First we'll deal with you.  Tell me, what's wrong?"

Connor sighed deeply, then looked into Ceirdwyn's face.  "Guin's feeling stressed at work, says she needs some time and space to herself.  So she's moving out for a little while, staying with a friend."

Ceirdwyn's face softened as she gazed at Connor.  "How awful for you.  But I'm sure she'll be back soon."

"I'm not so sure," he responded quietly.

"Oh?" Ceirdwyn raised a brow at Connor, then gazed into her half-empty glass as Connor's silence continued.  Sam returned with a fresh glass of wine for Ceirdwyn along with the Glenmorangie.

Connor sipped at his whisky, then examined his glass and its contents distractedly as he answered.  "Lately she's been making a lot of offhanded comments about our...genetic defect," he began, nodding toward Ceirdwyn.  He shook his head.  "I think she's seen too much, Ceirdwyn.  She's tiring of the whole thing, it's finally getting to her."

"So you don't think the move is just temporary," Ceirdwyn replied.

"I think she's convinced herself it is, but I also think eventually she'll change her mind and make it permanent."  Connor shot back the remainder of the whisky and let out an audible sigh.

"She's an adult, not a child," Ceirdwyn reminded him.  "Guin has done pretty well so far dealing with things, perhaps she just needs a break."  At Connor's continued silence, Ceirdwyn asked cautiously, "Are you giving up on her, Connor?"

He shook his head.  "Not yet.  But I am going to give her a little time to clear her head, like she's asked for.  We'll see where it goes from there."  Connor straightened himself in his seat.  "Enough of that.  So, what's the good news you called me out here for?"

"Kelly MacCallum is finally going to get her day," Ceirdwyn replied with a smile.

Connor raised a brow.  "You're going to the States?"

"We're going," she corrected him as she took Sam's hand.  "Sam got an offer he couldn't refuse, and I thought it was a good opportunity for me to finally make that leap.  We're leaving very soon...next week, in fact."  Ceirdwyn blushed.  "That's why I finally decided to lay the truth on him.  And he's handled it pretty well."

Connor smiled as he shook his head.  "It's wonderful that you're finally getting what you wanted."

"I'm glad you think so."  Ceirdwyn took a sip from her wine glass.  "Now if we can just find a place in New York, we'll be set."  She scoffed.  "Good luck to us."

"There are several empty apartments in my building on Hudson Street," Connor replied casually.  "I'm rarely there, the antique store is closed, so it mostly sits empty.  If you'd like to take one of the apartments, be my guest."

"Really?" Ceirdwyn asked.  Connor nodded.  "We'll have to negotiate rent..."

Connor waved his hand blithely.  "Later.  Glad I could help."

Ceirdwyn looked at him seriously.  "Connor, we'd understand if you don't want to stay for dinner..."

Connor shook his head.  "I don't want to be there while she's packing.  And I could use the distraction of a happy couple's company.  Let's celebrate while we can, shall we?"
 

"Hi," John quietly returned the greeting, taking a few steps into the room before stopping again.  "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, fire away."  Guin leaned forward toward him.

"You're not..." John fidgeted.  "You're not leaving because of me, are you?"

"Because of you?" Guin asked in surprise.  "Heavens no.  Why on earth would you think that?"

John shrugged.  "I just thought...well, with all the problems I caused in December...and...I dunno."  He shrugged again.

Guin stood up and walked over to John, embracing the young man tightly.  "You are such a good guy," she told him.  "Don't take the guilt on yourself.  I just need some time to put my head in order.  It won't take forever."

"I love you, Guin," John said quietly.

"I love you too, kiddo."  Guin pulled away from him a bit and wiped the tears from his face.  "And I'm never going to disappear from your life, that I promise.  You mean too much to me."

"And Dad?" John asked hesitantly.

"Your dad means a lot to me too," she replied solemnly.  "I just think a little time apart will do us all some good."  Seeing the disappointment lingering on John's face, Guin embraced him again.  "It'll be okay, sweetie," she reassured him.  "Things will work out for the best."
 

"Fine.  Did you know Sam was leaving?" Connor inquired as he hung up his overcoat.

"Yeah, I remembered after you left.  Is Ceirdwyn devastated?"

Connor began walking up the stairs, and Guin trailed in his wake.  "No," he answered.  "She's following him."

"Following him?" Guin asked, surprised, then smiled.  "Good for her!  That's wonderful."  Guin's smile faded.  "But what about..."

"The Immortality?" Connor finished for her.  "She told him.  Looks like he's handling it well."

"Good."  The pair fell into silence as they went through their nightly routines.

"So, are you certain about your decision?" Connor asked Guin as he got undressed and climbed into bed.

Guin nodded.  "I need to get away for a little bit.  It's really not a big deal."

"If there's something bothering you, Guin, you can tell me," Connor said a bit uncertainly, watching her slide under the sheets next to him.

She shook her head.  "It's nothing you need concern yourself with.  Honest."  Guin curled up tightly, fetus-position, around her pillow.  Connor stretched himself protectively beside her, his arm resting across her body.  Guin toyed with his hand for a few minutes, stroking the long fingers that had comforted, tickled and enticed her so many times.  She reached up to touch Connor's cheek, and was surprised to find it damp with tears.  Connor removed her hand from his face, putting it back by her side.  A pang of guilt swept through her as Connor circled his arm around her waist and kissed the back of her neck.  Guin gently pushed him away as his nuzzling became more intense.  "Not tonight, Connor," she said quietly.  "I'm too tired."  His disappointment apparent in his exasperated sigh, Connor roughly turned over and curled up on his side of the bed.  I'm doing this for his own good, she reminded herself.  He may think he'll miss me now, but he won't miss my tantrums.