Guin pursed her lips as she put her hands in the pockets of her robe and looked in the closet. "You know, I think half of my clothes are over here."

Andrew walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist. "They could all be over here."

She snorted. "Then I'd be living here."

"Exactly." He kissed her neck.

Guin rolled her eyes, despite the fact he couldn't see it. "I don't think so."

"Why not?" He turned her toward him. "I like the idea."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes again. "We've only known each other three months, Andrew." Looking in his eyes, she touched his cheek tenderly. "Although sometimes it feels like I've known you for a hundred years." Andrew briefly looked away before returning his gaze to hers, a little more clouded than before. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're definitely an old soul. I've been told I am too. Maybe we knew each other before, in another lifetime."

"Maybe." Andrew looked away uneasily.

"I know," she said, disillusion tingeing her voice. "You don't believe in that stuff. S'okay, I'm just hopelessly romantic." She kissed him lightly and smiled. "But I do feel safe with you. Not just safe from harm, but like I can trust you. And that's pretty darned unusual for me." Releasing him, she turned back to the closet. "Now what the hell am I going to wear today?" Guin began to rummage through her outfits, trying to find one that suited her. "So when is Rachel coming in again?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Her plane got in at five this morning, so depending on the transportation she arranged, she should be here sometime this morning. I wish she would have let me drive down to meet her instead." Andrew buttoned up the shirt he had picked out from the rack behind Guin. "You are still planning on coming out to meet us for lunch, aren't you?"

"I plan to," she said, finally settling on a cream blouse and navy blue skirt with matching jacket. "Unfortunately, reality may dictate otherwise. This Maximov deal is getting to be a real hassle -- the Russian government is giving us all kinds of crap about trading laws and that kind of thing. Even if I make it for lunch, I don't think I'll be coming back over tonight." She paused, frowning over both her thoughts and her reflection in the mirror. "Y'know, maybe it'd be better if I didn't stay over while Rachel's here."

"Why not? It's not as if she doesn't know." Andrew grinned impishly. "She's known me too long not to have figured it out."

"Still...you two have things to catch up on. I don't want to be in the way." Guin shrugged. "You said she's like family, I don't want to intrude."

"Intrude?" Andrew watched her wind her hair into a neat french twist, securing it with pins. "I don't think you'd be intruding. You're part of this family too." From her reflection in the mirror, Andrew could see Guin blush. "It's true," he said, walking up behind her and putting his hands on her hips.

"Mmm, don't do that," she scolded, brushing his hands away. "I already don't want to go to work. I don't need the temptation." She straightened her jacket and smoothed the lapels, examining her reflection. "No more pancakes. They're making me fat."

"You are not fat." He wrapped his arms around her. "Besides, nothing wrong with a little more to hang on to," he murmured in her ear, giving her a squeeze.

"Enough!" she laughed, disengaging herself from his embrace. "I have to go to work. So let me get my makeup on and go, okay?" Turning around, she kissed him as she walked past him toward the bathroom.

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he called after her with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she replied, sticking her tongue out at him as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

"Rachel." Andrew smiled broadly as he opened his arms to the tall, willowy woman at the door, her strawberry-blonde locks beginning to whiten with age.

"Connor," she responded, hugging him warmly and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Ah ah ah, it's Andrew," he reminded her gently.

"Oh yes, can't forget that now, can I?" She studied his face for a moment. "Goodness, that woman has made you happy, hasn't she?" Andrew rolled his eyes and turned a slight shade of red. Rachel just laughed. "When I'm right, I'm right," she said with a smile. "I haven't seen you look this happy in a long time," she added, brushing his cheek with her hand. "And I'm glad."

"Aunt Rachel?" a voice inquired from behind Andrew.

"John!" Rachel leaned over and opened her arms to the young man rushing toward her, giving him a tight hug. "How have you been? You are so big now, let me look at you." John's embarrassed gaze hit the floor as she inspected him. "My, you've grown into quite a handsome young man." Rachel straightened up and turned to Andrew. "So where is this wonderful lady?"

"She'll be here any minute, Rachel. She's taking a break from work now, but she's going to have to work late tonight. When lunch is over, I'm afraid we won't be seeing her again until tomorrow."

"Oh, what a shame. I'd like to get to know her. I suppose I'll have time in my two weeks here, but still..." She paused and looked over at Andrew. "Remind me again what tomorrow is?"

"Friday." Andrew's staccato laugh filled the entryway. "Your memory isn't that bad yet, Rachel. You remember very well what I told you." He grinned. "It's our three-month anniversary."

"And what did you buy her?" Rachel frowned tauntingly at Andrew's smiling silence. "Oh, make me guess now. Jewelry?" He nodded. "You didn't buy her a ring yet, did you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I didn't buy her a ring yet. Just a necklace." He looked into Rachel's face. "But I am thinking about asking her to move in."

"Already?" Rachel asked, surprised. "You're moving fast. You always have, though." She grinned. "I suppose this is moving slow for you, actually."

"Rachel," he chided her.

"Well, what do you expect me to say?" She laughed. "I'm just telling the truth. And if she makes you this happy, I hope she agrees."

"Speak of the devil," Andrew said, gazing through the open door at the Volvo wagon pulling up the drive. "There she is now."

Rachel turned her gaze to the moderately-built woman with long brown hair stepping out of the car. "That's Guin?" she asked.

"Mmm hmm. You approve?" He grinned.

"She's lovely," Rachel remarked with an approving smile.

"That's what I keep telling her. I don't think she believes me." Andrew waved to the now-approaching figure. "Guin," he said as she neared the doorway, "this is Rachel. Rachel, this is Guin."

"Pleasure to meet you," Rachel greeted her warmly.

"Yes, it's a pleasure," Guin responded, a bit nervous. She could feel the other woman's gaze inspect her. However, Rachel's eyes told Guin that she liked what she saw.

"Well hi there," Guin greeted the furball wrapping itself around her legs and purring. "Is Mandy going outside to play?" she cooed as she bent down to pet the feline's head.

"Mandy is becoming quite the mouser," Andrew informed Rachel. Turning to Guin with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added, "She brought me another present this morning."

Guin grimaced. "Eeeeew. Well, better you than me."

"If you ladies will be seated," Andrew gestured toward the formal dining area next to the living room, "John and I will bring Rachel's bags in and bring lunch out to you shortly." He made a little bow and walked outside. Rachel shook her head at his back and headed for the dining table; Guin followed.

"So, Rachel, how was your flight?" Guin began, trying to find an area of friendly conversation.

"Ooh, just awful. Turbulent. Now I remember why I don't travel much." She smiled. "But thank you for asking. So...Andrew has told me a little about you, but not hardly enough I'm afraid. And I'm sure the reverse is true as well. Feel free to ask me anything. Now remind me, what do you do again?"

"Your memory is better than that, Rachel," Andrew accused, setting the fresh salad and seafood on the table before taking a seat. Rachel gave him a remonstrating look; so did Guin.

"I'm a marketing consultant for an import-export firm, ScotExports," Guin graciously replied to Rachel's question. She nodded in Andrew's direction. "We met at a company party."

"That's right," Rachel responded, "he trades with ScotExports on occasion. Do you handle the antiques trade?"

"Oh no, I'm more involved in making the deals rather than in the acquisitions themselves. I'd love to know more about the antiques business, though. Andrew always makes it sound so interesting." Oh God, that sounded way too cute, Guin chided herself.

"Andrew's quite an antique himself," Rachel commented with a sly smile, earning her a dirty look from his direction.

Guin chuckled. "He's not that old. Priceless, maybe, but not an antique." Cute alert! Argh! Must stop. She briefly blushed at her own silliness before noting the entirely wordless conversation going on between Rachel and Andrew. Rachel threw him a look with her eyebrow raised; Andrew shot back a warning glance; making a slight roll of her eyes, Rachel returned to her meal, although she seemed well aware that Andrew was still glaring at her. I have no clue what sparked that, and I don't think I want to know. Guin picked up her fork and took another bite of lettuce.

"So, Rachel, how was your flight?" Andrew attempted to change the subject.

"Bumpy. No wonder I don't travel much..." The conversation remained light for the rest of the meal, but Guin noted that Rachel had lost some of her vigor, and the tense, wordless communication between her and Andrew resurfaced now and again. Guin began to wonder what she'd said to cause that. Rachel remained entirely polite and warm toward her, however. Guess it couldn't have been that bad, then, Guin mused.

Guin glanced at her watch. "I hate to break this to you," she said, "but I've gotta run. Work calls."

"Are you coming back tonight?" Andrew asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "I don't think I can get away. I'll be lucky if I can get back to my own bed tonight. I thought about bringing a pillow and blanket, I wouldn't doubt we may have to sleep there. Although I don't think we'll be getting much sleep."

"Is it that bad?" A look of concern crossed his face.

Guin nodded. "The lawyers are working around the clock, I guess there's a lot of problems with tariffs and trade limits and such -- things the Maximov people didn't warn us about. I'll know more when our staff meets with the lawyers this afternoon." She shook her head. "Wish we'd known how bad this was going to be, we never would have even made contact with them, much less made a deal." She rose from her seat. "In any case, I'd better get back there. Giles is depending on me."

Andrew, Rachel and John followed her to the door. Andrew leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Call me. Especially if you can come back."

"I will." She squeezed his hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Rachel."

"It was a pleasure to meet you too. I hope we get the chance to talk a lot more before I leave."

"Me too." Guin pointed a finger at John. "Later, squirt." She walked out to the Volvo and waved back at them before getting in.

As Guin headed down the drive, Rachel turned to Andrew, all business. "We need to talk. Now."

Andrew arched his eyebrows. "Do we?" At her curt nod, he showed her to his office. Rachel seated herself in front of his desk; he closed the door behind them, then walked around behind his chair.

"You haven't told her you're Immortal, have you?" she said pointedly.

"No." Andrew began to pace behind his desk.

"So you haven't told her your real name either?"

"No."

"Hmm. You haven't told her you are Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. Or that you were born nearly five hundred years ago. Or that you are Immortal, that you cut off people's heads to survive, that you can't die or grow old or have children..."

"She knows I can't have children." He shrugged at her surprised look. "It came up."

"Well, Immortality is not a subject that is just going to 'come up,' Connor. It's something you'll have to bring up."

"I just haven't had the opportunity to tell her," he defended himself. Rachel gave him a stern, reproachful look. "All right, I've had the opportunity. But it hasn't been a priority."

"So what has your priority been?" she inquired, still offering him the same look.

"To get to know her. As a human being. To know what's in her mind, in her heart..."

"And to sleep with her."

His laugh echoed in the enclosed room. "Same old Rachel. You don't mince words, do you?"

She shrugged lightly. "I call a spade a spade, and I know what I'm seeing. She's a precious soul, and I hate to see her being used like this."

"I'm not using her." He bent forward over the desk to face Rachel. "This is for real."

"Then why don't you tell her? If it's for real, she deserves to know. Especially if you're considering having her move in with you."

"Maybe it will be easier to tell her, once she lives here," he responded, finally seating himself.

"And if she turns around and walks out on you? What then? Do you go back to being Connor MacLeod -- excuse me, Andrew Beaton -- ultimate recluse? Your Immortality is part of you. You need to tell her."

"I want to. It's just...it isn't an easy thing to do." Andrew sighed and leaned his head back.

"Then leave her. Let her live a nice, normal life. With someone she can grow old with."

"But I love her," he confessed, leaning forward again.

"And what about when she's 50? 60? 70?"

"I'll still love her."

"And when she's old and grey, how will you convince her that you love her just as much as you do now? And how will you explain to others that you don't age and she does? Will you just keep moving every few years to avoid the questions? Will you wear makeup to make you look older and dye your hair grey?"

"Whatever it takes!" He flashed Rachel an angry look, then took a deep breath. "You know, Rachel, sometimes I just feel so old." She smirked at him, and he laughed back. "Okay, so I am old. But to feel that way is...that's when the pain of living becomes more real than life itself. Rachel, for the first time in a long time I feel alive, truly human. Are you going to take that away from me?"

"Well, I suppose lying can be considered a trait of being fully human." She arched her eyebrows cynically.

"I'm having fun, Rachel. Let me be happy and not worry about that for a while longer, all right?"

Rachel frowned at him. "The longer you wait, the harder it's going to be to tell her. Be careful playing with her heart, Connor. You just might break it without ever meaning to."

"I'm not playing with it, Rachel. I'll tell her when I'm ready, and when I think she's ready. No one will force me to tell her before then."

"And what if she finds out before then?"

"She won't." He narrowed his eyes at Rachel. "Unless you..."

"Oh no, I'm not getting myself in the middle of this, rest assured. But it is possible. Besides, I think you both have some soul-searching and opening up to do."

"What do you mean, both?" Andrew furrowed his brow.

"Ask her about Carol Jackson." He looked at her quizzically, but she shook her head. "That's all I'm going to say, she'll have to tell you the rest. I repeat, I'm not getting in the middle of this. But there are things she needs to tell you. And things you need to tell her," she added, giving him another pointed look.

He shrugged. "I will. Eventually."

"So this is Beaton Antiques," Rachel said, walking into the store the next morning. Andrew nodded. "Very nice. Could use a woman's touch, though." She smiled broadly.

"I suppose it could," he laughed.

"You can't tell me you do much business in this tiny town, though."

"We do a lot of international trade," Andrew replied, pointing to the furiously blinking light on the answering machine. "And the trade doesn't sleep." Pressing the button, Andrew listened through several messages, jotting down notes on prices and items for sale. The last message, however, came as a surprise.

"YEE HAW!" a familiar voice exclaimed loudly. "Sorry, just had to do that," Guin explained to the machine. "We think we've worked out most of the snags, at least temporarily, and our crisis for the moment is over. And I can go home! Yea! Okay, so it's three in the morning and I'm just a wee bit overexcited and punchy. At least I didn't call you at home with this, right? All you'd need is a loud yee-haw in your sleepy ear at 3 a.m. Anyhoo...I'll call you a bit later this morning and we can make plans, because I'm blowing out of here early tomorrow...I mean today...whatever. Later. Love you."

Rachel laughed. "How sweet! I like her, Andrew, I really do."

"Don't say it, Rachel. You said it enough yesterday. I'll tell her when I'm ready." Andrew gestured toward the sales floor, and Rachel walked into the cathedral-ceilinged room.

"You're not selling things from your private collection, are you?" she asked, fingering the handles of a familiar rapier-and-dagger set.

"Just a few things. I don't have room for everything anymore. The important stuff I'm keeping, of course. Some is stored here. Some is in the cabinets in my office."

"And if she moves in, and she looks around..." Rachel looked at him expectantly, knowing he'd have an answer.

"She's looked around already. It's taken care of. They're all locked. And the key," he said, pulling out his key ring, "is here, always under my control. No problem."

Rachel shook her head. "The best laid plans of mice and men..."

"Are usually about equal. I know. It doesn't have to last forever, just until I have the opportunity to tell her." Andrew turned as the office phone rang. "I'll be right back," he said with a smile.

Andrew lifted the receiver from his desktop. "Beaton's Antiques."

"Hi there," Guin responded, sounding a bit sleepy.

"I have one thing to say to you," Andrew said seriously.

"What's that?" Guin's puzzled voice trailed through the receiver.

"Yee haw?"

Guin's laughter made Andrew smile. "Well," she said, "what else do you want me to say when we finally get to go home at three in the morning? Actually, that was the favorite phrase of an old roommate of mine, it just wore off on me."

"You're forgiven then. So what are you up for tonight: dinner, dancing, a movie..."

"You're going to hate me for saying this, Andrew, but can we just stay in?" Guin pulled the handset away from her face as she yawned. "I am so damned tired I can't believe it. Thank God it's Friday."

"Whatever you want," he reassured her. "I'll cook. Maybe I'll send Rachel and John off to the movies or something."

"You don't have to do that..."

"I'm sure they won't mind. Rachel knows what tonight is, and she and I are spending the day together, so it's not as if I've completely abandoned her." He looked up to one side, thinking. "No haggis, I promise." He grinned devilishly. "How about...finger foods?"

"Ooh, Andrew, you are so bad." Guin laughed. "Whatever you want to make, that's fine by me. I've got a couple of things I need to do after work, so I'll be there around seven, okay?"

"Great. Your present will be waiting. Meet me on the front steps, we can look at the stars together. Is that romantic enough?"

"Mmm. Can't wait. Your present...well, that's one of the things I have to finish up after work. You'll understand when you see it." She paused to yawn again. "See you later. Love you."

"Me too. Bye, Guin."

Rachel peeked around the corner. "So, did you ask her about Carol Jackson?"

Andrew shrugged. "I didn't think about it. I'll ask her tonight. Why are you being so nosy about this, anyway?"

"Just something I found out. I promised I'd stay out of this, though, and I am."

"Except to prompt me into asking her about it." He furrowed his brow at her. "Is it that bad?"

"No. But it's something she ought to tell you."

"You're a real instigator, you know that, Rachel?" He grinned. "Then again, what can I expect from my own daughter?"

Andrew found Guin in the place they had agreed upon, the front steps of the house, although they were both running a little late. The sun was almost behind the hills, casting a hazy pink glow in the darkening blue of the sky. Andrew sat down beside her, and Guin turned toward him eagerly. "Three months," she said with a bright smile. "Seems like forever, sometimes. My whole world has changed since I met you."

"Mine too." Andrew returned her smile faintly, then looked away. "I have something to ask you before we get into our celebration."

She shrugged. "Sure. What is it?"

"A little bird told me I needed to ask you about Carol Jackson." He looked up at the night sky, but could see her stricken face in his peripheral vision.

"And what else did this 'little bird' tell you?" she asked coldly.

He arched his eyebrows at her. "Just to ask you about her. It's obviously a touchy subject with you, but I was told I needed to ask. That it was important."

"Your little bird should mind their own business," she responded sourly.

"And are you suggesting that I should mind my own business as well?" he asked, his voice piercing her like a dagger.

Guin closed her eyes. "Can we talk about that later?"

"No. I want to know now." He gently grasped her chin in his hand. "Who is she? Why is it important that I know? And why does it upset you so much?"

Guin remained silent for some time before answering, her eyes still closed. "She's someone I'd like to forget sometimes." A single tear trickled down her cheek. "Some would say I betrayed her, destroyed her. Maybe even left her to die." Guin swallowed hard. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her in disbelief, and she looked away. "She's me, Andrew."

He furrowed his brows. "She's you," he repeated, not comprehending.

"She's who I used to be -- my 'real' name, which I always hated," she blurted out. "I was always 'little Carol,' the baby Jackson. Kate and Maggie and Lynn's little sister. Carol Jackson wasn't even an identity to herself, just an extension of her big sisters." Tears came to Guin's eyes. "And then when I won the lottery and some of my so-called friends started harassing me, I changed it to avoid them. Legally and all, so I am officially Guinevere Barnes now, but..." She sniffled back the tears. "You always seem to like my name so much, I didn't want to tell you it wasn't really mine."

He stroked her cheek. "Is that all?"

She furrowed her brow as she looked at him. "What do you mean, is that all? Isn't that enough? I lied to you. I'm not who I said I was."

"You didn't lie." He shrugged. "Omitted, maybe. But you didn't lie." Andrew reached over and smoothed the few faint tears from her cheeks. "Here," he said, handing her the small rectangular box he had brought out with him. "Open it."

Sniffling again, she took the box from him and lifted the lid. Her heart lurched as she fingered the gold charms of the necklace that spelled out "Guinevere," and she burst into tears. "Oh, Andrew," she wailed, dropping the box into her lap and covering her face with her hands. He quickly reached around her shoulders and pulled her to him, shushing her.

"I didn't do that to upset you," he whispered to her. "I don't care what your name is. You are who you are, regardless of your name. Here and now, you're Guinevere. You've made that identity and that name for yourself. You don't have to be ashamed of that." He stroked her back until her sobbing subsided, then took the necklace from the box and put it around her neck. She touched her fingertips to it, still looking at him guiltily. "None of that, my bonnie Guin," he scolded her, gently pushing up the corners of her mouth with his fingers to curve her lips into a smile. She made a face at him. "My turn?" he asked. Blushing, she reached behind her and set a flat, square box in his hands.

"It's not much," she said apologetically. "Just one of those crafts things I do."

Andrew opened the box. Inside was a hoop covered in black leather surrounding a web of white waxed thread. The black leather handle strap was affixed to the hoop with a MacLeod clan badge, and strips of MacLeod tartan tied long feathers on each side. The iridescent beads that were woven into the web shimmered in the porchlight as Andrew lifted it from the box.

"It's a Native American dreamcatcher," she said hastily in embarrassment. "Bad dreams are supposed to get caught in the web, and the hole in the middle lets good dreams through." She blushed again. "I like making these for people I care about, hand-picking all the items that go into them."

"It's beautiful," he said softly, watching the hoop spin slowly on its strap in the light breeze. "It's absolutely beautiful." Gently he set it back in the box and took Guin's hand. "Thank you." Andrew looked up at the stars. "Orion's watching us," he said, pointing. "Is that a good sign?"

"It always has been for me." She sighed. "Although it hasn't brought me much luck lately."

"Guin, I've been thinking."

"Did it hurt?" Guin giggled. "I'm sorry, my friends are a bad influence. We're such cynics."

Andrew laughed, then made a face at her. "Yes, it did hurt. Anyway...I've been thinking. Stop giggling. I want to ask you something."

"Nope, already used up your question for the night." She smiled. "I'm kidding. What is it now?"

Still holding her hand, Andrew pulled until her face was inches from his, and he looked deep in her eyes. "Guin, I want you to move in with me."

She blinked owlishly. "What? You can't really be serious. I know we were teasing about it before, but..."

"I couldn't be more serious. I want you here. With me. Every night." He smiled. "I want all your clothes in my closet."

"Isn't this a little sudden? I mean, I know we've been moving fast, but...I don't know, Andrew. This is a big decision. I'll have to think about it."

Disappointed, Andrew looked away. "I understand."

She touched his cheek and turned his face back to hers. "I hope you do. And I hope you know that this is not a rejection. I just need a little bit of time to make my decision."

Andrew bent his head and kissed her fingers. "I know." He stood up, clutching the box with the dreamcatcher to his chest, and held out his hand to help Guin up. "How about some dinner?" he asked.

Rachel looked up as Andrew entered the kitchen. "Where's the little woman?" she inquired.

"In the shower."

"Well?" Rachel asked expectantly. "Did you tell her?"

"No, I didn't tell her, Rachel. She was upset enough over the inquiry you prompted as it was." He reached into the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"And what did she have to say about that?"

Andrew seated himself across from his houseguest. "She told me she changed her name. Big deal." He shrugged. "She was upset with herself for not telling me sooner. I told her it didn't matter. Case closed."

"Not so fast," she said, giving him the evil eye over the rim of her cup of coffee as she took a sip. "It's not closed until you tell her."

"I told you, Rachel, I'll tell her when I'm ready. Not a moment sooner. Now if she'd just agree to move in here, it'd make things easier."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You asked her?"

Andrew nodded. "Yeah. She said she needs time to think about it."

Rachel shook her head. "You're moving too fast, Connor, and putting the cart before the horse. What are you going to do, keep the cabinets in your office permanently locked and hide your katana with the umbrellas?"

"If I have to." He shot back the last of the juice in his glass.

Rachel sighed in exasperation. "You're making a big mistake. You need to tell her. This is the last time I'm going to tell you that."

"Good, because I'm tired of hearing it. I'm happy, Rachel. For the first time in a long time. I don't want to ruin what I have."

"No, you'd rather just see it all collapse around your ankles one day. God, you are a stubborn one, aren't you?" She looked at him, eyebrows arched. "No, don't tell me, I do remember. You are a Scot."

The pair fell silent as they heard footsteps on the stairs. "Good morning," Guin greeted them, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans and nervously tapping the floor with her riding boots.

"I take it you two slept well, as you were in bed by the time John and I got home." Guin turned a shade of red at Rachel's mocking tone. "Oh, don't blush, my dear. Be proud. You've made this man happier than I've seen him in quite a while." Guin's shade deepened as Andrew walked up behind her and wrapped her in his arms, kissing the crook of her neck. Rachel smiled and shook her head. "You do make an adorable couple," she said with a sigh, giving Connor a deep, tender look that was otherwise unfathomable to Guin. "Much better than being lonely."

Thundering footsteps down the stairs announced the arrival of the last member of the household. "Ready, Guin?" John panted as he came to a sudden halt next to her.

"Are you sure you want to take him riding, Guin?" Andrew asked, amused. "He's a troublemaker, you know."

"Dad..."

"He'll be fine, Andrew," Guin stepped in before John could complain too loudly. "Besides, it gives you a chance to talk to Rachel, and gives me a chance to hang around with Squirt here." She patted John on the head, and he stuck his tongue out at her. "C'mon, kiddo, let's go." Guin shoved John toward the back door, and they waved as they exited. "Later, you two," Guin called on their way out.

"Bye. Be careful," Andrew admonished. Turning to Rachel, he silently signaled to her to follow as he walked toward the office. Picking up a box from his desk, he handed it to Rachel. "That's what she gave me last night," he told her, a deep twinkling lighting his eyes like ancient bonfires.

"Oh my," she breathed, picking the dreamcatcher and watching the beads shimmer in the light from the casement window behind the desk. Rachel looked at Andrew in awe. "It's as if she knows you already, Connor."

Andrew moved out from under Rachel's gaze, pushing a chair to the back wall and taking a hammer and nail from one of the desk drawers. Climbing on the chair, his eyes moved along the wall before focusing on a single spot. Andrew lifted the hammer and pounded the nail into place. Rachel walked over and handed him the box; Andrew took the dreamcatcher and carefully settled it into place on the wall. "I asked her if it would be all right if I hung it in here," he said quietly as he stepped down from the chair. "It won't serve it's intended purpose here, but..."

"But this is more Connor MacLeod's room than any other in the house," Rachel finished for him. "Besides, you don't have bad dreams you need to ward off, do you?" Andrew remained silent, and she touched his cheek as she looked into his eyes. "Do you?"

"I'm still having dreams now and again. About Brenda." He shook his head. "They come and go. I try to let them go, but..." Andrew's voice trailed off and he sighed deeply.

"Sounds like you have some unfinished business with her. Don't you think she'd like Guin? Or maybe you think she wouldn't want you to get involved again?"

"It's not that...at least I don't think so." Andrew shrugged. "I don't know."

"Just because you fall in love again doesn't mean you're going to forget about her. Is that what you're afraid of, perhaps? Is that what these dreams are about? After all, you didn't forget about her when Alex was around. And you've never forgotten Heather," Rachel reminded him. She touched his chin, bringing his eyes back to hers. "You always want to love like a mortal. That's the kind of eternity you seek, rather than the kind you have. And it leaves you empty and lonely time and again, whether through death or just through the circumstances of life. Happiness is so fleeting, isn't it?" She paused, giving him time to take in her words. "I give up, Connor. Tell her when it's right for you. Take advantage of the joy while you have it. And if you're lucky, she'll stay with you no matter what." Rachel smiled. "Maybe she'll understand that Immortality isn't so bad...that it's a kind of magic."

The riding trails were hotter than they had been two and a half months earlier when she and Andrew had first ridden them, and Guin was glad for the lightweight ivory-colored shirt she had picked out this morning. The sun was golden in the pale blue sky, its light shimmering on the deep green leaves that swayed in the breeze. The air was pungent with the scent of heather and wildflowers, particularly on some of the less-worn side trails that John had led her on. He was a good riding partner, regulating his pace so he never got too far ahead or fell behind her. They had teased and chatted, and Guin was amazed to find that John knew so much about the plants and animals in the area. Now and then he had paused to point out a rabbit or squirrel half-hidden in the undergrowth next to the trail, happy to see Guin's delight in these discoveries.

John pulled up short at the opening to a grassy clearing and signaled her to stop as well. Guin looked at him questioningly, and he put his finger to his lips, then pointed to the far side of the clearing. Following his gesture, Guin caught her breath as she saw the pair of deer, who were frozen as they returned the gaze. The stillness lasted only a moment before the sound of the shifting of the horses' hooves caused the deer to bolt into the trees. "Wow," Guin breathed, smiling broadly at John. "Oh wow."

"See? We need to go riding more often." John took the lead, riding out into the clearing.

"I guess so." Stopping in the middle of the sunlit field, she covered her eyes with the blade of her hand to watch two hawks circling in the sky above them. John came around to her side to watch them as well. "John, can I ask you something?" she asked, still watching the pair of winged creatures gliding on the drafts of wind.

He shrugged. "Sure."

Guin sighed, looking over at the boy. "I want to know...well, hell, how do I say this? Guess I just say it, right?" She paused, searching for words. "Your dad asked me to move in with you two. I want to know how you feel about that."

John shrugged again. "It's his house, he can do anything he wants."

Guin shook her head. "It's your home too. And I want to know how you feel about it. I'm not even sure how I feel about it, to tell the truth, but if you're uncomfortable with it, I certainly wouldn't even consider moving in."

"He asked me before he asked you. I told him it was okay." John paused. "Besides, you have to consider moving in."

Guin looked at him quizzically, tilting her head to one side. "Why?"

John glanced up at her, then looked away. "You don't see my dad when you're not around. He always misses you. A lot." John stroked his horse's neck. "He hasn't really been around anybody since Alex left. I think he needs somebody. And he loves you, Guin." He looked up at her. "I wouldn't mind having you around more either."

A faint smile lit Guin's face. "Really?"

John grinned, embarrassed. "Yeah."

"What do you say we head back now?"

"Wait." John dismounted and picked a handful of blooms from a swatch of wildflowers growing on the edge of the field. Dividing the bouquet in two, he silently handed one half to Guin, wrapping the other section in his handkerchief.

"Thank you." Guin took a deep breath of the flowers' perfume, exhaling with a sigh.

"Dad always says flowers warm a woman's heart," John said as he mounted again and they started up the trail.

"Your dad's a pretty smart guy," she remarked with a wry smile.

"Yeah, well, he's been around."

Andrew looked up as the duo came in from their ride. Watching John offer a handful of flowers to Rachel, and noting that Guin had a similar bouquet in her hand, he inquired, "Who are you and what have you done with my son?"

"Dad, stop it."

"No, I mean it. Nothing could possess my son to be that polite and well-mannered..."

"Andrew, lay off." Guin gave him a pointed look. "You're supposed to praise children when they do something nice, not rip on them for it. At least if you want the behavior to continue."

"He knows I'm teasing..." Andrew began.

"It doesn't matter. It sinks in and has an effect. Believe me, I know." Guin looked away. "When all you hear is cynicism, it can take a hefty bite out of your self-esteem." She mussed John's hair as he walked by, and he grimaced at her.

Andrew, meanwhile, had fallen speechless, continuing his search through the refrigerator and cupboards and making a grocery list. Guin crossed the room and leaned over the counter, watching him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have criticized you."

Andrew shrugged. "Don't worry about it." He turned around and caught her gaze. "I mean it, don't worry about it," he repeated, kissing her cheek.

"I could get that stuff for you, if you want to spend more time with Rachel..."

"I think he's looking to escape from me by now, my dear," Rachel commented. "Besides, then we can get to know each other without him sticking his nose in our conversation." Andrew glared at her, and she gave him a taunting smile in return.

"I'll be back soon," he said, shoving the list in the pocket of his jeans and giving both women a peck on the cheek. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone, okay?" His sharp look was aimed more at Rachel than at Guin.

"Who, me?" Rachel asked, her eyes twinkling. "Not possible."

Andrew shook his head. "Just be good, okay? That goes for all three of you." With a wave, he headed toward the door.

"Come have a cup of coffee with me and talk," Rachel invited. Guin took a vase from the cupboard, filled it with water and sat down at the table to arrange the wildflowers, while Rachel poured them both some coffee.

"He loves you, you know," Rachel began.

"You're very direct." Guin tilted her head as she gazed at the flowers, trying to find just the right position for each bloom.

"Life's too short to be otherwise."

"Then you know he asked me to move in here." Guin tweaked another stem to make the blossom fall to the other side.

"Yes. And that you didn't say yes." Rachel looked at Guin over the rim of her coffee cup.

"No, but I didn't say no, either." Guin sighed, giving up on the arranging. "I just don't know what to say to it, I suppose. Maybe I just don't know enough about his history. Andrew rarely talks about Alex. He has nightmares about watching Brenda die, but he doesn't say much else about her either. Am I just going to be another one in this pattern?"

Depends on if you leave, Rachel thought. Aloud she said, "Andrew has a rough time letting go. After Brenda and Alex, I don't think he trusts his luck anymore. And there were a few others as well." Rachel's mind turned to Heather. "Each one he loved very much, and each one he lost through some twist of fate. He doesn't get attached very easily -- at least he tries not to -- so when he does, he's head over heels, so to speak. He tends to move rather quickly, but it doesn't mean he isn't sincere about the way he feels." Rachel smiled. "Rather the opposite -- he's so sincere, he doesn't want to waste a minute of time." Rachel glanced over at John, who was trying to pretend he wasn't listening. "Right, John?"

"Hmm?" John looked over at them, his blush giving away his feigned innocence.

"When your dad falls, he really falls," she prompted him.

John nodded. "Yep. Not very often, but...yep."

"So you would vouch for his character?" Guin asked Rachel sincerely.

"Absolutely. And yes, there are things you probably don't know yet." Probably... I'm turning into a liar as well. "But I don't think they'd be critical in your decision to move in." At least I hope not. "I'll tell you what, I'll give him a couple of months to tell you whatever he still needs to tell you. But then I'll call you and quiz you, and whatever you don't know, I'll tell you."

"That's sounds like a good deal." Guin sat back and sipped her coffee. "Now I just have to figure out how to tell him why I changed my mind so fast."

Rachel shrugged. "Just tell him. Honesty is the best policy."