Sunday was half gone before anyone woke up. Guin spent the afternoon giving the den a good cleaning, and much to her surprise, John came in to help her. Guin continued to carefully polish the delicate oil lanterns on the mantle as he started in, and she made an attempt at conversation. "You're being awfully helpful."

John shrugged. "Nothing better to do," he replied, cleaning the picture frames on the piano. Guin watched him pause at the picture of him as an infant with Connor and Brenda.

"Do you miss her?" Guin asked, walking across the room to stand next to him.

"I don't even remember her," John replied quietly.

"I wish you had gotten to know her. Connor always says such wonderful things about her."

John shrugged. "That's because he loved her."

"She was important to him. So are you." Guin glanced over at John.

"She talked Dad into adopting me, you know," John said bitterly. "I wish she hadn't."

"You could have done worse," Guin responded calmly. "A lot worse."

John snorted. "I could have done better. Could have at least gotten someone who wanted me."

Guin gave a long sigh and shook her head. "That's a terrible accusation to make, John. Connor loves you. You're his son, regardless of biology." She set her hand on top of John's. "Even if he might have been reluctant to adopt, I'm sure he hasn't regretted a day since you arrived in his life."

John roughly pulled his hand away. "You don't know. You haven't been here long enough to know. Just leave me alone." He went back to work polishing down the sides of the piano.

Guin tilted her head and listened hard, but there were no signs that Connor had returned from his excursion into town. "Can I just tell you something, John? About your dad?"

John frowned. "What?" he said finally.

"Last night he asked me what he'd done wrong, to cause you to do this. He blames himself, and he feels bad that there's this rift between you. So give him a chance, would you?" John didn't respond, but kept working. Guin shrugged. "I know I can't push you into believing anything I say, which is fine. But whatever you believe about your dad, it's only you that you're hurting by not talking to him." Guin went back to her end of the cleaning, then vacuumed the room with a vengeance. Connor came in as they were finishing.

"Nice," he remarked. "Too bad I missed it." Connor grinned broadly.

"I've left you the kitchen," Guin replied with a sly wink.

"Damn. Thought I'd gotten out of it." Connor furrowed his brow as John silently passed him. "Where are you going?"

"To finish my homework," John said sullenly as he walked out the door.

Connor shook his head at the boy's back. "And will probably listen to his stereo, too. I'm not looking forward to moving it."

"Why do you have to?"

Connor shrugged. "It's part of his punishment."

"You could give at least that privilege back to him. You were awfully harsh with him." She shrugged nonchalantly. "And it'd be easier than moving the damned thing."

"I'll think about it." Connor sunk down on the sofa with a weary sigh.

"You didn't sleep well, did you?" Guin asked gently. Connor shook his head. "I'm not surprised."

"I'm tense."

Guin sat down next to him and worked her fingers into his muscles. "Yes, you are tense." She bit her lip as she began to massage his shoulders. "Connor, we need to have a household conference."

"Because of John?"

"Mmm hmm." Guin paused. "I went to talk to him last night, and he said something to me that makes me think the three of us need to talk things out."

"All three of us?" Connor quirked an eyebrow as he glanced back at her. "I thought this was something between father and son."

Guin sighed heavily. "It is. And apparently the something standing between father and son is me."

"What?" Connor turned toward her fully, his brow furrowed. "How so?"

"My being here upsets him, apparently. You pay too much attention to me, not to him."

Connor narrowed his eyes. "Tough. My house, my rules, my decisions."

"Don't be such a grump, Connor. Just listen to me for a moment, okay? I can see his point. You focus on me an awful lot. Then we disappeared for two weeks -- yes, I know, you checked up on him, but we left him. And now we're making plans for Christmas without his input..."

Connor shook his head slowly, his expression pained. "He's going to make me choose between you and him, isn't he?"

Guin blushed. "It had crossed my mind that we might all be better off if I left."

"You are not moving out," Connor said angrily, a flush coming to his cheeks. "And if that's the way he wants it..."

"Calm down, calm down," Guin replied hastily. "He hasn't made an ultimatum, he hasn't even suggested it. That's all speculation on our part. But that's why I think all of us need to talk it out. We need to hear his side too, Connor. It's only fair."

Connor shifted uncomfortably, then shrugged. "I suppose you're right." He pointed his finger at her. "But no talking of moving out." Guin nodded, and Connor sighed. "I guess the kitchen should be cleaned before dinner." He stood up and stretched, and Guin followed him into the kitchen, where they discovered John already straightening up.

"I thought you were doing your homework?" Connor asked suspiciously.

"I figured I'd pitch in here first. Plenty of time to do homework, nothing else to do." John saw Connor's stern face, and rolled his eyes. "Fine, you want me to go do homework, I'll go do homework." John wiped his hands and went upstairs.

"You didn't have to be so cold," Guin scolded Connor. "He was just trying to help."

"He needs to take care of his own duties before taking on someone else's," Connor replied, taking over where his son had left off, wiping down the counters.

"It breaks your heart, doesn't it?" she asked softly.

"What do you mean?" Connor asked, not looking up from his cleaning.

"You know very well what I mean." Guin laid her hands gently on his shoulders. "It tears you apart that your son could do something so foolish in the first place, and it hurts you even more that he's so angry with you for punishing him."

Connor stopped his busy motions and let out a soft, sad sigh. "I'm more upset that he blames it on you."

"No, you're upset because you didn't see that our relationship might be a problem for him." Guin looked at him pointedly as he bowed his head. "You think you could have avoided it if you'd seen it. Honestly, Connor, I don't recall him giving out any signals that it was a problem. There was no way you could have known. That's why we need to talk this out." She pursed her lips. "I've got an idea. Let's forget the kitchen -- we'll order out. And play Monopoly or cards or something that the three of us can share. Spend a little time bonding, or at least feeling more comfortable with each other, so that eventually we can come together to talk this out calmly."

Much to the disappointment of Connor and Guin, however, John didn't want any part of their family togetherness. He barely ate, and was very disinterested in the games they suggested. Connor finally allowed him to go up to his room. Sighing out a long breath through his nose, Connor stretched out on the sofa, laying his head in Guin's lap. She stroked his hair gently as he closed his eyes.

"This is wearing you out, isn't it?" she asked, rubbing his neck.

Connor nodded. "I'm tired of it all already. But I can't lift his punishment just because I'm tired of enforcing it."

"No, you can't," she agreed. "But you can try to forgive yourself for having to punish him. You're only doing what you have to, Connor."

John came in to grab a schoolbook from the computer desk. He gave his father a questioning look, but said nothing. Guin glanced over at him, offering a gentle smile. They locked gazes for a moment, then John looked away, taking his book and leaving the room. Connor opened his eyes just in time to watch John exit.

"He's never going to speak a civil word to me again." Connor furrowed his brow as he turned his head to Guin. "Is he?"

"Give him time. It's only been a day, he has to go lick his wounds first. He'll come around." She smoothed Connor's hair away from his face. "Let's go to bed. I never thought I'd say this, but this weekend has been long enough."

Connor arranged his schedule so that he would be home during the week to "supervise" John when he arrived home from school. Guin wasn't so sure that was a good idea, and was almost surprised to see John still alive when she came in the door Monday evening. Guin quickly discovered their secret, however: the two avoided each other like the plague, interacting only when they were forced to. Dinner was a short, unnerving affair, after which John secluded himself in his room, presumably to do homework. Connor busied himself with a workout on his new weight machine in the fencing room, then went to bed early. Playing it safe, Guin planted herself in front of the television for the evening, wisely avoiding either household male.

When Guin finally went up to bed, she found Connor stretched out and sleeping on his stomach. You only do that when you're uptight about something, she scolded in her head. And it's not good for you, you wake up all stiff and cranky. As she stood there observing him for a few minutes, Connor shifted and tossed at least a half dozen times. Guin climbed onto the bed and rubbed his back gently, and he settled back down to a more stable sleep. Poor baby, she thought as she got ready for bed. I wish I could do something to help. Or at least to put your mind at ease.

The house is far too quiet, even for a weekday evening, Guin thought as she walked in the door. She hung up her coat and stomped the fresh snow from her boots as she listened for signs of activity. The Range Rover was not in the drive, meaning Connor had gone out on some sort of errand, but she didn't hear any sign of John in the house either. Good Lord, did they actually go somewhere together? And is that a good thing, or a bad thing? Guin walked into the kitchen to start on dinner. It was her turn to cook, and she was making her special meatloaf -- heavy on the onions, peppers and spices, along with a dose of salsa to give it some oomph. Connor always liked to compare it to his haggis -- which, despite hopes to the contrary and much to her chagrin, Guin was actually developing a taste for. She had popped the loaf into the oven and was working on the rest of dinner as Connor stepped into the kitchen.

"Good evening," he greeted her warmly, kissing her cheek.

"You're in a good mood," she said, brushing a bit of snow from his hair. "What's up?"

"Closed another big deal. That's where I was, just now." Connor knitted his brow and looked around the room. "Where's John?"

Guin shrugged. "I haven't seen him."

Connor frowned. "I leave him to himself for a few minutes, and he disappears. He better not have strayed too far."

"I'm sure he's just fine," Guin tried to reassure him.

The back door swung open, and Connor's eyes narrowed as John came inside. "I thought I told you, no riding," Connor said sternly.

"I wasn't riding," John replied sourly. "I'm not stupid enough to go riding when this snowstorm is only going to get worse."

"Then what were you doing out there?" Connor's face was stony, and Guin could feel his temper warming up.

"I was helping Henry clean the stalls. You were the one who told me to make myself useful, Dad..."

"Well there was plenty inside the house for you to do," Connor shot back.

"Well then you should have made yourself clearer. I didn't know I wasn't allowed to step outside unattended. Are you going to follow me to the toilet next?" John frowned and returned his father's glare. Damned if he isn't his father's son, Guin thought with a grimace.

"Don't you ever speak to me like that," Connor hissed, venting his frustration. Guin warily watched his hand twitch, as if he might raise it to the boy. "You're in enough trouble as it is. Don't push me, I guarantee you won't like the results."

"Then lay down the law, Dad. Spell it out. If I can't go outside, tell me so. If I can't take a crap by myself, then tell me so..."

"I'll show you how I lay down the law..." Connor took a couple of advancing steps, his lack of restraint apparent in his fiery expression.

"Connor!" Guin shouted sternly.

"What?" he yelled as he spun to face her, eyes ablaze.

"Chill. Out. Now." She spat out the words, fixing the pair with her most unrelenting gaze. "Both of you, just chill out." Guin gestured toward the hallway. "John, go wash up for dinner." As he opened his mouth to protest, she added, "Now! I mean it." John huffed out a breath, but did as he was told.

Connor gave her an icy stare. "Are you interfering with the way I'm raising my son?"

"I was not going to let you smack him, no matter how much of a smart-ass he's being," she replied sternly, turning back to the stove.

"I wasn't going to hit him..."

"That's not what the look on your face said. I thought you were going to blow your stack and wallop that attitude out of him." Guin glanced over at Connor, who was staring at the floor now. "I've never seen you like this, Connor. You've got a short temper, granted, but it's never been like this. Especially not with John."

"I do love him," Connor said with a frustrated shrug. "But first he betrays my trust, and then he tries to make me choose between him and the woman I love..."

"He hasn't made you choose, Connor. You wouldn't even know about that if it wasn't for me, and I'm beginning to regret that I told you." Guin walked over and put her arms around him. "I think he's trying to make you proud, Connor, by doing extra stuff like helping with the stables. It frustrates him that you don't recognize it."

Connor sighed. "You're probably right." He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a tight squeeze.

"I know I'm right," she answered bluntly. "And you, Mr. Grumpy-Butt, are not helping anything with that attitude. Try seeing things from his view, just a little. God knows he sees things from yours."

"What do you mean?" Connor furrowed his brow.

"He is just like you, Connor. Did you see that glare? Hear those comebacks? No contest, he's your kid." Guin thought a minute, then laughed. "Now that I think about it, that completely explains Rachel, doesn't it? 'Strong-willed' doesn't even begin to cover it."

"Are you suggesting that I'm stubborn?" he retorted with a grin.

Guin nodded. "Very." She kissed him gently. "But I like that." John trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen. "The meatloaf is almost done," Guin told them both, "and then we'll be set. John, will you set the table please?"

The meal passed in discomforting silence. John stared at his plate most of the time, eating very little of what Guin had prepared. Connor and Guin picked at their food as well, unsure of the right words to start a conversation with.

"I've been thinking," Connor finally began. He glanced over at John, who was still staring down at his plate, his expression locked in a frown. "I know you've been making a good effort," Connor continued, "and I thought I'd give you your stereo privileges back. Especially since I don't want to try to disconnect and move it to enforce my punishment. Deal?" John just shrugged. "Come on, not even a thank you?" Connor's tone bordered on anger.

"Thanks," John muttered.

"Don't expect me to bend over backwards for you. You brought this on yourself."

"You're going to remind me of that every day of my life now, aren't you?" John shouted back. "I know I brought it on myself, okay? But you never even thought that there might be reasons why I did what I did, did you?"

"I know what your 'reasons' are, John, and they're bullshit!" Connor exploded. "There were other ways for you to express that you weren't happy with me and Guin, but you went out and did something stupid instead. You could have come to us, but you didn't. So you're stuck with the consequences." Connor glared at John, who glared back. "And don't you dare think about making me choose between you two."

"I don't need this," John said, standing up.

"Wanna bet?" As Connor stood up, John raced out of the room and up the stairs. Connor and Guin heard a door slam shut. Connor slowly sat back down, pushed his plate away and put his head down on the table. Guin walked around behind him and rubbed his shoulders. "I finally found something I'm not good at," Connor said miserably.

"You're trying," Guin responded gently. "You're just letting him push all your buttons. You need to anchor yourself in that rational, no-nonsense, focused part of yourself -- the same one you use when you're fighting other Immortals, so that your emotions don't get the better of you." She stroked his hair. "Unfortunately, this battle is a bit tougher, because your object is not to kill him, but for both of you to win." Glancing up, Guin spotted John looking in on them. He jerked back, and she said nothing about his appearance to Connor. "He loves you, Connor," Guin continued softly. "You're his dad. But he is determined to push his boundaries. I also think he needs some reassurance that you love him too, even while you're being tough with him." She smiled. "You should be used to giving reassurance, you do it enough with me. You just need to focus enough to get past his defensive anger so you can offer your love to him -- and so you can get over your own guilt in punishing him."

"Why is it that, in spite of all my years of life experience, you're the better parent?" Connor sighed deeply, his forehead still resting on his hands.

Guin shrugged. "Maybe it just seems that way because I'm closer to his age, and I've been where he is more recently than you have. But parenting him isn't for me to do -- he's made that quite clear. All I can do is try to help you communicate with him and bring all this anger to a close."

Connor finally lifted his head and nodded. "I'm going to go read for a while, let him -- and me -- cool off before I try anything else." He took Guin's hand. "Thank you."

Guin gently brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. "I'm just trying to help," she said, sadness twinging her voice. "I hate seeing you two so at odds, when I know you love each other. I'll do anything I can to help heal it."

Connor stood up, hugging her for a moment before shuffling into his office. Guin went into the den to watch television for a while. After an hour or so she heard Connor go upstairs. Not long after, the sound of shouting overwhelmed the television volume.

"I don't care! Leave me alone!" John's heated tone erupted.

Connor's angry voice began to reply. "I'm not trying..."

"No, you're not! You're not trying. You're not trying to be a dad, more like a jailer!"

Guin couldn't hear Connor's reply. She figured his reply had probably been uttered in a low hiss -- his normal tone when he was on the verge of blowing. A door slammed upstairs. Guin sighed and trudged wearily up the steps to their bedroom. Connor was sitting on the bed, his shoulders slumped forward, head in his hands. He looked up as she entered.

"What was that you said about pushing buttons?" he asked sarcastically, shaking his head.

"What did you tell him, after he accused you of being a jailer?" she inquired, sitting down next to him. "I think that's about all the important stuff I missed," she added with a grin.

Connor shook his head. "I said that if he was going to act like an criminal, I'd have to act like a prison warden." Connor gazed at Guin's face. "Why is this so difficult?"

Guin shrugged. "I don't know. But it seems to me that you should both just give each other some space. You both need the time to cool off." She kissed his temple. "Let's try to get some sleep, okay? Tomorrow's another day."

The sound of two young men's serious voices startled Guin as she pulled off her gloves and blew into her cold hands on this wintry Wednesday evening. She glanced in the kitchen as she walked by, heading toward Connor's office. Absorbed in work, he hardly glanced up as she entered.

"I take it you know Peter is here," she stated.

"Mmm hmm." Connor tapped the down cursor key a few times and frowned at the computer screen.

"And that's not a problem?" She raised a brow.

"It's a school project," he replied, letting out a long, frustrated breath as he sat back in his chair. "John asked me about it Monday night. It's legit."

"Keeping the door open to make sure they don't start goofing off?" she asked a bit cynically. Connor nodded and rubbed his eyes. "No offense, Connor, but you look like hell."

"I can't find the error in the books, but I know it's there." His frown deepened.

"A big error?"

"Several thousand pounds."

"Yipes. Guess you can't just write it off, then." Guin sat on the edge of the desk next to him. "Well, maybe if you stop staring at it for a few minutes and get distracted, an idea of where to look next will come to you."

"Any suggestions?" Connor looked up at her wearily.

Guin shrugged. "I might have one," she said, leaning forward and kissing him. "Or two." She loosened the top button of his shirt. "Or several dozen, depending on the level of privacy we can achieve." Guin smiled impishly and winked.

"We can't achieve any privacy as long as I have to keep track of them," he replied sourly, nodding toward the door as he gently pushed her hand away from his collar.

Guin drew his chin toward her. "Doesn't mean we can't have a little fun. You haven't had any in a couple of days." She kissed him deeply, and he sighed and closed his eyes. Guin eyed him critically, then tickled him until his laughter was deep and loud. Connor exacted his revenge by tickling her similarly, until they were both engulfed in laughing spasms.

"I'm sure that sound is going over well with John," Connor said, sadness creeping back into his voice.

"So what?" Guin looked into Connor's face defiantly. "He's caused his own problems, he can live with the consequences. Just because he's grounded doesn't mean we have to be."

Connor nodded. "I've got it!" he said suddenly, gesturing toward the computer. "I bet I know where that money is."

"See, I told you," she said with a grin. "I'll go put some dinner on while you're fixing your problem."

Guin could feel John's eyes tracking her as she walked into the kitchen. She quickly set up the stew pot to simmer, loaded with the ingredients she had prepared that morning. The two boys were silently contemplating their notes at the table, both looking rather frustrated. Peter finally turned to her. "Did you ever read 'Great Expectations,' Guin?" he asked.

She made a gagging noise. "Dickens. Hated it." Guin caught a faint smile from John, and it made her smile. "What are you doing with it?"

"Comparing and contrasting imagery with other Dickens stories."

"Yuck! Your teacher is a sadist, I take it. What a thing to shove at you." Guin stirred the stew one more time, then put the lid on the pot.

"At least he's letting us work together on it." Peter glanced over at John. "Though I'm surprised Mr. Beaton even let me in the house," he added quietly.

"Dad knows you tried to talk me into leaving the party," John replied. "And he knows it wasn't your idea to go." John turned his attention back to their work. "I think we've got some good stuff here. I'll put it together tonight and we'll work on it again in class tomorrow, since we're stuck on it now."

"Sounds good." Peter stood up and packed his book bag. "Hang in there," he said to John, who nodded. "Bye, Guin."

"Bye, Peter. Take care, it's pretty frosty out there."

"I will."

All was silent but for the sound of Peter's footsteps, then the front door opening and closing. John stood up and began clearing his papers from the table. "There's still quite a bit of time before dinner, you don't have to move everything so soon."

"I'm going to study upstairs."

"Well, dinner will be ready in about forty-five minutes..."

"I'm not hungry." John finished packing his bag.

"Are you sure?" Guin asked gently. John nodded. "If you change your mind, I'm sure there will be plenty left over."

Although Guin had shrugged off John's skipping dinner, Connor was caught between being concerned over his not eating and furious over his avoidance routine. Guin promised to take John some dinner later, to at least alleviate some of Connor's concern. She fixed a tray and went upstairs, knocking on the doorframe. "I thought you might want some food, even though you don't want to be around us."

John shrugged. "Thanks," he said, his tone flat.

"I also thought you might like an opportunity to talk." She sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at him expectantly.

John leaned back in his desk chair and gave her a cold look. "Why would I want to talk to you?"

"So I can help, or at least try to."

"Ha!" he retorted. "You can't help. You should know that by now. And why have you been bothering to defend me against dad? It's not like it's going to work. He's made up his mind already."

"I'm just trying to keep him from doing something that he'll regret later, and which will only make matters worse." Guin shrugged.

"So you're really just protecting him, you couldn't care less about me."

Guin bristled. "I'm protecting both of you, John. You are both my friends. I'd like to keep you from killing each other...and from hurting each other more than you already have." She shook her head. "And I know you don't believe this, but both your father and I would both like to help you, if you'd let us."

"I told you, you can't help. Neither one of you."

"Maybe you just don't want us to help," she sassed back, starting to grow tired of his attitude. "Maybe you like having this problem. It makes you the center of attention." Guin raised an eyebrow at him pointedly.

"Hmph. You're the center of his universe." John frowned.

Guin shook her head, stunned. "You're the single most important thing in his life, John."

John snorted. "I thought you were."

Guin tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well, he loves us both very much. But if he absolutely had to make a choice between us, he'd pick you, hands down. He'd put me aside to devote time to you until you were ready to go out on your own." Guin smiled wanly, blushing. "And I'd probably wait for him, too." She looked at John, but he only stared down at the desk, his expression sour. "Connor doesn't want to have to make that choice, John, and I don't want him to have to make it either." Guin sighed. "But you're making it really tough on us all. Why are you being so terribly hostile toward your dad?"

"Because he's being hostile toward me."

"He has a reason to be hostile toward you." Guin looked at John pointedly.

"Just because I did one stupid thing doesn't give him the right to stay mad at me forever..."

"But you're the one who's staying mad forever," Guin countered. "You aren't even giving him a chance. Quite the contrary, it seems you're provoking him every chance you get. You're hurting him, you know."

"So?"

Guin raised an eyebrow. "So?!? John, I know you've seen him, seen the effect. He's exhausting himself worrying over you. He's rearranged his schedule to be here for you..."

"To lord over me, you mean," John quipped.

"No, I mean to be here for you. Giving you every opportunity he can, in case you want to talk to him. Leaving himself open, only to have you stab him through the heart with words that you know are killing him."

"Not like he can die of heartache...or much of anything else," John shot back.

"Oh, aren't you so cool with your little comebacks," Guin fumed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Let me tell you something, little boy. I know just how much those remarks hurt, because I watched my friends use them on their parents. And I kept myself from using them because I knew my mother had enough shit to deal with after my father passed away, she didn't need those stingers from me. Your dad may be Immortal, but he's not invulnerable. One of these days you just might lose him -- God knows I hope not, but it could happen. And you will regret every harsh word you've ever thrown at him, especially if you let this rift grow instead of mending it."

John just shrugged off her words. "Whatever." He gave Guin his own version of the icy stare, a stare so uniquely Connor's that he could have trademarked it. God, he really is becoming Connor's clone. Guin shook her head sadly.

"It's your choice, John," she said quietly. "And it'll be on your head if you don't try to make things right." She stood up stiffly and left the room, closing the door behind her with a definite thud.

The early December snow was growing deeper by the day, it seemed. The flakes that fell with the lightness of butterfly wings soon added up, leaving Guin to deal with the snow drifts and cold. I'm still way too thin-blooded, she chided herself, shivering as she quickly shuffling toward the house. Since she had some extra work to take care of and was getting home late, Connor had promised to pick up something quick -- probably Chinese food -- on the way home, and Guin was looking forward to a night of no cooking.

Even with the change in menu, John did exactly as he had done the past several nights: he ate little, mostly picking at his food, and before long he asked to be excused. Connor watched his son's retreating form and sighed. "He's not eating," he remarked sadly to Guin. "Not in the mornings, not in the evenings."

"He'll be fine," Guin replied, patting his hand reassuringly. "He'll eat when he's hungry. He'll probably come down and get something later when we're not in here." Connor nodded slowly, his face locked in its morose expression. Guin took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "Looking at you, I think I finally understand the phrase, 'This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.'"

Connor glanced at her and gave a faint smile. "It does hurt that he doesn't understand. But I should know better than to try and force him to see why I'm right." Connor shook his head, but his smile broadened. "Rachel taught me that lesson, several times over. One incident in particular comes to mind."

"Oh?" Guin grinned. "This I gotta hear."

Connor laughed mildly. "Rachel and I find these stories humorous now, but they weren't at the time, I assure you." He thought quietly for a moment before continuing. "I'd done pretty well compromising with her, or so I thought. She was fifteen...wanted to go to some party, at a house rented by college boys. I didn't want her to go, obviously. I tried to reason with her, but she fought me tooth and nail. Even made some angry accusations that I wasn't her real father, and that her real father would never treat her that way."

"Ouch." Guin shuddered.

"I wasted a lot of time trying to make her see I was right, and I finally just forbid her going entirely, end of discussion."

"And?" Guin raised an eyebrow, suspecting this was not the end of the story.

"She snuck out of the house to go, after giving me plenty of cold shoulder for several days. I discovered she was gone, and I sat in the dark in her room until she got back."

"And when she got back...?" Guin broke into a smile, certain that this would get interesting.

Connor laughed. "I scared the hell out of her. She yelled at me, even swore, I think. Later I nailed the window shut and grounded her for a month. She didn't speak to me for at least a week. Then she tried to run away."

Guin shook her head. "Only tried?"

"I found her packing." Connor's eyes drifted into the distance, his voice turning quiet. "She was crying too, and I couldn't stand for that. I sat her down, tried to calm her down. She was so angry at me that she beat her fists against me when I tried to hold her." Connor let out a long breath. "I told her I was only trying to do what was best for her, because I loved her as if she were my own. That's when she confessed I was right about those college boys -- they'd tried to get her and her friends drunk so the girls would sleep with them."

"How awful," Guin commented. "What did you do?"

"I couldn't do much when it came to the boys, because it would only be the girls' word against the word of these 'men,' who hadn't actually done anything. But I did refrain from saying 'I told you so,' and I sat with her until she was calm again." Connor shrugged. "Then we made up."

"See, you're a good dad."

Connor gave a bitter laugh. "That's why John's run away three times. I'm surprised he hasn't tried yet this time."

Guin quirked an eyebrow at him. "You never told me he's run away before."

"Not something I'm proud of." Connor shrugged. "Twice in Marrakesh, when he thought I was being too strict; once here..." He hesitated. "Right after Alex left, when I was still an emotional wreck." Connor lowered his eyes. "I said a lot of things to him that I shouldn't have, truth or not."

Guin rested her hand on his. "Like what?"

Connor sighed deeply. "You have to understand my frame of mind at the time...I was blaming everyone but myself for Alex's leaving." He closed his eyes tightly. "So I told him Brenda coerced me into adopting, that I hadn't wanted children."

Guin reached up, trying to smooth the worry lines from his brow. "He said something like that to me the other day. I was sort of surprised, I thought maybe he was just saying it to be mean."

Connor shook his head. "And the terrible thing is that it was true. I hadn't particularly wanted a child, at that time. Brenda did push me into it, sort of. But I never told him the rest, which is what he needs to hear." Connor looked into Guin's eyes, his voice intense but quiet. "The first time I laid eyes on him, held him, he looked straight back at me, and I knew...this was my son. Ever since that moment, he's been my life. And, often enough, my reason to go on."

Guin smiled, locked into the shine radiating from Connor's eyes. "I'm sure he knows that, Connor."

Connor broke eye contact and shrugged. "He may know it, but he's never forgotten my words. He brings it up every time we fight, and won't let me even try to explain the rest. I've never regretted saying anything so much in my life."

"We all make mistakes, Connor," Guin said gently, taking his hand in hers. "John's made his too. But it seems he's more willing to pay the price now. He's growing up."

"Yes, he is." Connor smiled wistfully. "Rachel was quite a handful. He will be too, for the next six years or so at least."

"But he'll be worth it, won't he?" Guin smiled.

"Yeah...if I don't kill him before he reaches eighteen." Connor smiled back with a wink, then turned serious again. "Are you sure you want me to be the father of your children?"

"I haven't been more certain of anything for a long time." Guin gave his hand a squeeze. "No one's perfect. And you've got a good track record."

"Maybe." He shook his head and stretched. "I'm going to work out for a while."

"Don't work yourself too hard," Guin warned with a smirk. "I might want a little workout later on too." She winked. Connor finally broke into a smile as he stood up, stretching further, and headed for the fencing room. Guin twitched her nose, then set her teeth and determinedly went upstairs. John's door was half-open.

 "Can I come in?" Guin popped her head around the door.

"Guess so," John replied with a sullen shrug. He pulled his knees up and put his arms around them.

Guin stepped into the room, rolling up the sleeves of her denim shirt. "I'm sorry I jumped down your throat last night. Can we try to talk again?" she asked. "Not yell, not fight, just talk." John nodded. "You're giving very conflicting signals, you know," Guin said softly as she sat on the edge of the bed. "You're giving your all to the chores and helping out around the house, but then you talk back to Connor -- and to me -- every chance you get." She tried to catch John's eyes, but he just stared in the opposite direction. "I think your dad would really like to make peace. And so would I. To be frank, John, I care about you a lot. You've become very important to me. I really would like to be a part of your life, if you'll let me. Not so much as a parent-type -- I know you don't want that, and I wouldn't force it on you -- but as a friend, maybe a mentor even. Maybe that's stretching it a bit, but I'm sure we could find a balance somewhere." Guin waited patiently for an answer. When she didn't get one, she added, "You don't have to give me an answer now, but I would like to know just one thing before I leave you alone here."

"What?"

"Am I really your main problem?" Guin gazed at John, but he remained stoically silent, resting his chin on his knees. "If there is another problem, John, then I'd like to hear about it, if you'll talk to me. Maybe I can help. I can at least try to sympathize." She hesitated, sighing. "But if the problem is just me, then there's only one way I can think of to solve that problem once and for all..." Guin drew a deep breath, tears forming in her eyes as she bit her lip. "John, do you want me to move out?"

John looked up at her, his eyes wide. "No...no." John closed his eyes and shook his head, his face revealing his loss for words. "You can't leave because of me, Guin. Dad would kill me." A soft, black form jumped on the bed, and John laughed briefly. "So would Mandy." Turning serious again, he frowned and bowed his head. "And I don't want you to go either." John shrugged one shoulder. "I like having you around."

"That's not what you've been implying," Guin replied brusquely as Mandy curled up next to her.

John shook his head again. "I didn't mean it, Guin. I..." John's face flushed. "I was angry, and I just said it to hurt you," he mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"It sounded like you meant it," Guin said more gently. "You had reasoning behind it, it's obviously something you've thought about. And if it bothers you, I want to talk it out. I don't want you to resent me, or my presence here."

John fidgeted. "It bothers me, a little, sometimes. I miss some of the time I used to spend with Dad. But I don't want you to leave just because of that."

"You're sure?" Guin raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sure." John nodded emphatically.

"You know, if you ever want some time with your dad, all you have to do is say the word," Guin added solemnly. "I can make myself scarce for a while, or occupy myself while you two are out. No problem."

"Thanks." John fidgeted uncomfortably.

Guin set her hand on his knee. "Tell me what else is wrong."

"You wouldn't understand."

"I want to, John. I really do. Talk to me, just as a friend. I won't judge you, I promise." She gently rubbed his knee.

John frowned hard. "It's the guys. They'll think I'm a geek, unless I'm in with them and do the stuff that they do."

"So who cares what they think?" Guin challenged.

"Everybody. So being a part of them is better than having everybody pick on me." He glanced up at her. "You wouldn't know about this stuff. I bet you were popular."

Guin laughed. "Oh, how wrong you are, honey. I was a geek, and on the heavy side to top it all off. Absolutely no self-esteem." And some things haven't changed, she added to herself. "Probably the kind of girl even you would have made fun of." She moved her hand to his shoulder. "So what made you suddenly decide you had to be in this 'in' crowd?" she asked. John just shrugged. "C'mon, you can tell me. I promise, no judging."

John twitched his lips indecisively, then finally spoke. "Something happened at school." He hesitated, heaving a deep sigh.

Guin nodded. "Go on."

John toyed with the edge of his bedcovers as he continued. "Neil's dad passed away. Neil was having a really rough time of it. And I was just trying to be nice, you know, make him feel better. But that provoked these guys to...well...call me all kinds of names. I'm smaller than them, so I didn't talk back to them, you know? Besides, it was just names, no big deal." John paused. "But then they decided to rough me up after school."

"Why didn't you come to your dad with this?" Guin furrowed her brow. "Not that he could have solved anything, I suppose, but he would have at least listened to you."

"Because he was several thousand miles away," John replied quietly.

"Oh no." Guin ran her hands over her face and sighed in exasperation. "No wonder you've been so pissed at me. This happened when he was in Arizona with me."

John nodded. "And I wasn't about to tell Ceirdwyn somebody beat me up." He smiled cynically and rolled his eyes. "I just steered clear of Neil, and they went back to just taunting. But then they invited me to this party. More like challenged me to go."

"And you decided it was better to try to be a part of them than to have them taunt you -- and maybe hurt you -- again."

"Mmm hmm." John averted his eyes. "And I'd been thinking about Neil...he still isn't okay, you know? The grief is killing him. I didn't want to end up like that, if something did happen to Dad...and sometimes that seems really likely." John frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "So I thought, what do I care what dad thinks about me hanging out with these guys and going to this party? If he gets mad, then he gets mad. The less he and I connect, the better, then I won't get hurt if he...well, you know."

"You thought the distance provided by the rift between you would protect you," Guin summed it up. John nodded solemnly. "But it hurt instead, didn't it?"

"Yeah. But I figured I'd get used to it, eventually." John bit his lip. "But I've been thinking about what you said the other day -- a lot, actually. I hope nothing ever happens to Dad...but if something should happen, I'd hate myself for all the things I've said to him. And everything I would have to say to keep this distance between us."

"And do you still want to hang around these guys at school?" Guin asked.

John shook his head. "They went back to teasing me this week anyway, since I got in trouble. But it sucks being one of their targets."

"Well, I'm not trying to judge you, but I am going to give you some friendly advice," Guin said gently. "Two pieces, actually. One, if you can, give Neil someone to talk to." She cleared her throat as tears came to her eyes. "I was about your age when my dad passed on. None of my friends knew what to say, so they didn't say anything. I'd never felt more alone in my life. I'm sure he'd appreciate having a friend right now." John nodded.

"Second...I know it hurts, but it's not worth it to be one of these guys, John. Really, truly it's not. I've been there, I know. Not only will you be happier further on down the road if you don't buddy around with these guys, but you won't be incurring any more of the wrath of your father in the present."

John snorted. "Dad. Now there's someone who won't understand no matter what. God knows what he thinks of me now. I don't think he'll ever get over it. So much for keeping up our relationship, I've ruined it now."

"You'd be surprised. He will get over it, John, just give him a chance -- without egging him on. After all, he's got your temper. If it's not provoked, it does cool down...eventually." Guin grinned, and John gave a faint smile back. "He loves you, you know," she added seriously.

John gave a brief bitter laugh. "Yeah, that's why he about took my head off without a sword on the way home from the police station, and half a dozen times since then."

Guin shrugged. "Yes, it is why he snaps at you, believe it or not. As hot-tempered as he is, if he didn't care about you, and about what happens to you, he wouldn't have said anything at all. Hell, he probably wouldn't have even gone to get you from the police station."

John looked down. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"You should. And I think you owe it to Connor to tell him all that you just told me. He may not show it, but he's hurting. I think an honest explanation would do him good."

"I will," John promised. "Tomorrow. When I've worked up the nerve." He smiled, embarrassed.

"Good. And think about what I've said, too. I'm always here to talk if you need it...even if you don't think I'll understand. I just might surprise you." Guin hesitantly opened her arms, questioning him with her eyes. He nodded, and they embraced. "I love you too, kiddo," she told him. "You're a good person, John. I don't want to see that go to waste just because you want to be in the 'in' crowd."

John looked up, and Guin followed his gaze to Connor's figure in the doorway. Don't you dare undo the good I just did, she thought, throwing Connor a glance of warning. Connor simply looked at John and pointed to his watch. "Bedtime," he said with a stern frown.

Guin piped up before John could answer. "Oops, my fault. Sorry, Connor." She gave John a reassuring smile, then walked over to the doorway, the cat trailing at her heels. "Your bedtime too," Guin said soothingly, touching Connor's arm.

Connor gazed down at her, their eyes connecting momentarily. His face softened as he read her expression. Without a word he stepped over to the bed, where John had sunk down under the covers. Connor sat on the edge of the bed and gently laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "No goodnight hug?"

John looked up at him strangely. "We haven't done that in...forever."

Connor shrugged. "Humor me. Make a very old man happy."

John reached up as Connor leaned over, and the pair grasped each other tightly. "I'm sorry Dad," John whispered.

A tear trickled down Connor's cheek. "I love you, John."

"I love you too, Dad."

Connor breathed out a sigh and closed his eyes. "I know I told you once that I was talked into adopting. But you are my son, John, and I wouldn't give you up for the world. You know you're important to me, don't you?"

John hugged his dad tighter and nodded. "I know."

They ended their embrace, and Connor looked away, but the concern for his son was obvious as he spoke. "Listen, John...I know I haven't been the best listener lately, but I'm willing to try harder. If you decide you want to talk to me, that is."

John looked up at his dad and nodded. "I haven't been a very good listener either. Or a good talker. I promise I'll try harder too."

Connor gave his son a serious look. "This doesn't mean you're free and clear, though. I'm still not happy with you for what you did." John nodded solemnly. "And I should wash your mouth out with soap for some of the things you've said to me."

"Yes sir," John said quietly, lowering his eyes.

"But you've been pretty good overall," Connor relented. "So we'll settle on three weeks of punishment, and as long as you continue to behave yourself, you can go back to your normal self after Christmas." John nodded again, finally looking back up at his father. "Now go to bed," Connor said gently, ruffling his son's hair. "We'll talk more tomorrow. About Christmas plans. And the three of us getting along together better."

John's face reddened slightly. "I think...I want us to go to Arizona for Christmas."

"Yeah?" Connor quizzed him, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It'd be...different." John shrugged.

"We'll talk it over tomorrow -- and the three of us will make the final decision, together. Sweet dreams." Connor stood up and walked over to Guin, who was now cradling Mandy in her arms. "Thank you," he whispered to her as he shut the door of John's room behind him.

"For what?"

Connor shrugged. "Smoothing the way."

"Just doing what I can. And I had to clear up a few things for myself." Guin set Mandy on the floor.

"And did that happen?"

Guin nodded. "He's a great kid, Connor."

"Not such a kid, anymore. Becoming more of a man every day." Connor gave a heartfelt sigh. "Losing his innocence, what little is left. Pretty soon he'll be dating...getting married...having kids..."

Guin stifled a laugh. "And you'll be a grandfather." She grinned.

"I hadn't thought about that...I don't want to think about that. I feel old enough already, thank you very much." Connor smiled and shook his head. "Grandchildren..."

"Let's hope that's not for a while, okay?" Guin smiled up at Connor. "Let him be a kid as long as he can. Childhood is too short as it is."