Little Surprises
by Guinevere the Whyte

1949

Duncan wiped his brow as he stood on the porch of Connor MacLeod's home. The August sun was beating down this afternoon, and Duncan wished Connor would hurry and answer. He knocked again on the screen door.

"Duncan, is that you?" Connor called.

"That it is."

"What are you waiting for? Come in!" Connor leaned out from the kitchen doorway into Duncan's line of sight. "You're no stranger to this house," Connor scolded as Duncan entered. "You don't have to knock."

"Just practicing courtesy. I wasn't sure if you were expecting me so soon." Duncan set down his bag and leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching Connor prepare the roast that would be the evening meal. "Where's Rachel?"

"At a friend's," Connor replied. "She should be home soon."

"Oh." Duncan fell quiet. He couldn't help but be a little disappointed. It had been more than a year since he'd been able to come visit his extended family, and he had been eager for this trip.

"More interested in seeing her than me, hmm?" Connor taunted.

Duncan laughed as he blushed. "At least she changes from year to year. You're stuck in your old Immortal rut." Duncan grinned devilishly.

"Hah!" Connor grinned back. "Like you're any better."

Duncan shrugged. "I'm trying." He turned at the sound of the front door opening and closing. "There she is!" he said, smiling at Rachel. She'd had a growth spurt since he'd last seen her; she was at least several inches taller than he remembered. And she was starting to sprout as a woman as well -- which shouldn't have surprised him, since she had just turned twelve.

"Hi Uncle Duncan." Rachel leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, then turned to her father. "Hi Pops."

Connor gave a slight shudder, and Duncan quirked a smile. "Hello, angel," Connor replied.

"So how are you, Rachel?" Duncan asked.

She shrugged. "Good, I guess."

"Looking forward to school?"

Rachel snorted a laugh. "Are you kidding?" She plucked a slice of apple from the plate next to Connor and nibbled at it. "Did Dad tell you about his girlfriend?" Rachel's smile hinted of mischief.

"Rachel..." Connor's protest was immediate.

"Girlfriend?" Duncan raised an eyebrow, playing into Rachel's taunt. "This I have to hear."

"Mmm." Connor's jaw tightened, and he busied himself with putting the roast in the oven.

Rachel's smile broadened. "Mrs. Leigh -- Jane's mother -- has an unmarried cousin who likes children. So she's been inviting us to dinner when she invites her cousin over."

"Do you like her?" Duncan asked.

Rachel wrinkled her nose and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Dad's not very excited about her, so I don't think it matters." She snatched another slice of apple before heading up the stairs.

Duncan left enough time for Rachel to get upstairs before starting in on Connor. "Girlfriend, hmm?"

Connor snorted. "Mrs. Leigh is just trying to help the bachelor in the neighborhood...especially since he has a child to raise."

"I'm guessing it's not going to work."

"No."

Duncan let a moment pass before asking his other question. "Pops?" He laughed as Connor shuddered again.

"I'm not happy about that," Connor replied. "And she knows it. I think she's just pushing her limits."

"She's about that age," Duncan commented.

Connor nodded. "I suppose. But it's strange to see it. Compared to what she used to be like..." Connor paused in his meal preparations, shaking his head. His eyes unfocused as his mind drifted back. "Everything frightened her when she first came here -- including me, at times. And her remaining awkwardness with English at the time still made it hard for her to make friends, and for us to communicate as well sometimes. It led to frustration." Connor sighed deeply. "And you know my temper, Duncan. When the frustration became too much, I would get angry."

Duncan shrugged. "I suppose that's only natural."

"Natural, perhaps, but not good." Connor shook his head sadly. "Especially not for a little girl whose only stability at that time was me. Everything else -- the house, the school, the neighborhood -- still felt temporary, unreal to her." He sighed. "It had taken nearly a year of red tape to get her here. In that year, we'd moved from place to place...wherever we needed to be just to get the adoption final and technically legal. I was the only constant in her ever-changing life."

"Which is what she needed at the time," Duncan added.

Connor gave a dry laugh. "Until I'd get angry. Between the language barrier, her history, her fears and her youth, not only was it sometimes difficult to get across why I was angry, but also next to impossible for her to express what was going on in her head. In words, anyway." Connor shook his head again. "She would cling to me and follow me around after I'd yell...I thought she was trying to make things up to me. It took some time to realize it was something else."

"Something finally told you a different story?"

Connor nodded. "She did." His shoulders slumped at the memory. "I'd gotten really angry one evening...she had broken a crystal decanter given to me by Sir James Sinclair nearly two hundred years ago...Rachel was following me around, getting in my way as I was trying to pack up and put away the winter clothes -- it was the first time in years it had been worth doing that sort of thing. I finally got tired of her getting in my way and I yelled at her again, put her to bed early so I could finish. I was still stewing over it when I finally went to bed."

Connor paused for a long moment, and Duncan impatiently intervened. "And?"

Connor closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face, engulfed in the memory. "I woke several hours later to find her curled up on my bedcovers. One of her little hands was clenched around the collar of my night shirt. The nights were still cold, and she was shivering...."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Connor sighed through his nose. He needed to get Rachel under the covers, at the very least, and her grip would get in the way of that. Gently he attempted to pry her hand from his shirt. Rachel's eyes flew open, wide with fear.

"Don't leave me!" she cried, her grip on his shirt tightening. "Please don't leave me behind!" Rachel broke into sobs that racked her body as she pleaded. "I promise I won't make you mad again...I promise I'll be good!"

Connor furrowed his brow and gathered his distraught child in his arms. "Hush, my angel," he crooned gently, pulling the covers from beneath her body and tucking the sheets around them both. Rachel was still shivering, and not just from the chill. "Hush, my dear Rachel. I would never leave you."

Rachel's eyes were still overflowing with tears. "I was bad, and you yelled."

"My sweet angel," Connor reassured her, stroking her hair, "I might get angry sometimes, but nothing you could do would ever be so bad that I would leave you." She looked at him doubtfully, and Connor gave her a bear hug and kissed the top of her head. "I promise you, Rachel, I will never abandon you. I will always be right here."

Rachel sniffled, her tears still flowing. "I'm sorry I was a bad girl. I promise I'll be good from now on."

"I forgive you," Connor said gently. "That crystal meant a lot to me, but nothing means as much to me as my Rachel."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"She wept for some time yet," Connor told Duncan, his gaze regaining its focus. "I think it took a full ten minutes for her to settle down."

"She really thought you'd just leave?" Duncan raised his eyebrows.

Connor nodded. "She knew I'd gone through a lot to get her here. Somewhere in her mind she came up with the idea that if she made me angry, I'd change my mind and leave her. I think my agitation at her -- while I was packing, no less -- made it worse. She was convinced I'd go, and she was holding on to me for dear life to make sure that I couldn't leave without her." Connor sighed. "I learned to temper my anger a bit after that. And we both learned how to communicate a little better from then on."

Duncan shook his head. "She's been through a lot."

Connor nodded. "It astonishes me how far she's come. You wouldn't know what she's been through by looking at her now."

"I think that says a lot about the man who raised her," Duncan said with a wink and a smile.

Connor snorted. "Yeah, her 'Pops.'" He nodded toward the staircase. "Let's get you settled in." The two headed for the guest room that was now traditionally Duncan's. It had always surprised Duncan that Rachel's room was so far from Connor's -- the guest room was closer, in fact -- but the two had always kept their doors cracked open, and Duncan had seen firsthand several times how quickly Connor could make it to Rachel's room when she was having nightmares. Today, however, Rachel's door was closed, though from the racket in the bathroom he knew that was where Rachel actually was. A scent caught Duncan's attention; he sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. "Do you smell something?"

Connor sniffed as well. "I thought it was the bathroom -- I was going to check the plumbing later. But the smell is sharper now."

Following his nose, Duncan walked up to Rachel's door. "It's coming from here, Connor."

Furrowing his brow, Connor stepped forward and opened Rachel's door. A black-and-white blur sped past them and down the stairs.

"Cat," Duncan stated the obvious. With a look at Connor, he added, "And one that's not supposed to be here."

Connor's face darkened and his jaw tightened. "RACHEL ELENA!" he bellowed.

"What?" she replied defiantly, throwing the bathroom door open. Her jaw dropped as she saw her open bedroom door.

"I discovered your little secret," Connor growled. "Now you will search this house til you find it again, and you and it will spend the evening up here together in your room. Without supper."

"But Pops," Rachel whined, "I love roast."

"Live with it." Connor pointed a rigid finger down the stairs. "It went down there. Find it." He waved toward her room. "Then you will learn how to take care of a goddamned litter box."

Rachel skulked down the stairs, then got on her hands and knees to look under the furniture. "Here kitty," she cooed, clicking her tongue. "Here, Patches. C'mere, sweetie..."

Duncan put his suitcases in his room, and Connor followed him in. "I can't believe she did this."

"She's twelve," Duncan reminded him.

"She's more difficult to discipline than you were." Connor began to pace.

Duncan grinned. "You didn't know me when I was twelve."

Connor stared at him for a long moment. "You think this is funny," he accused darkly.

"Yeah, I do," Duncan retorted with a smile. "It's just a cat, Connor. And one that is probably housetrained, which is a bonus. What's the big deal?"

"No pets."

"Why not?" Duncan sat down on the bed and leaned back against the headboard. Connor continued to pace, working off his anger.

"They get into everything. They're a pain in the neck. They require constant care..."

"Sounds like you could be describing Rachel," Duncan replied. "You just don't want something else you could become attached to."

"That's not it," Connor said gruffly with a wave of his hand.

Duncan eyed his kinsman thoughtfully, then shrugged. "If you say so."

"I can't find her!" Rachel bit her lip worriedly as she entered the room.

"You must not be looking hard enough," Connor said roughly.

"I searched everywhere." Rachel looked as if she was about to burst into tears.

"All the doors to the outside are closed. The cat will turn up," Duncan reassured her.

Connor finally stopped pacing. "Where did you get the cat?" There was something dangerous in the calm of his voice.

"The boys down the street were tying stuff to her tail, and kicking her around. Jane and I rescued her."

Connor nodded slowly. "And what made you think you could keep it?"

Rachel lowered her chin. "I figured I could talk you into it, eventually," she admitted.

Connor jerked his head toward the door. "To your room."

"But Dad..."

"No buts. You disobeyed me."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did. You lied to me," Connor's voice lowered to a growl.

"I didn't lie...I just didn't tell the whole truth. You do it all the time."

Connor's face darkened again. "I don't appreciate you sassing me, young lady. If you had any chance of keeping that cat, you just lost it right there."

Rachel's lower lip trembled. "But Dad, I'm never going to be able to find it a home..."

"Well you'd better, because after another week he's going out on his keester."

"She," Rachel corrected with a pout.

Connor's jaw tightened. "To your room. Now. You can start thinking of where the cat can find a new home."

Rachel bowed her head, her eyes full of tears. "Yes sir," she said sullenly, then trudged to her room, slamming her door behind her.

Connor shook his head fiercely as he turned to Duncan. "I hate doing that to her."

"Ah, the old 'this will hurt me more than it hurts you' is true, is it?" Duncan taunted.

Connor gave a humored snort. "I suppose it is." He shook his head. "But it doesn't mean I'm going to let her off the hook easily."

Duncan shrugged. "That's your choice. You're the dad."

"Yes, I am." Connor nodded toward the stairs. "Go on down to the living room. I'll be down after I show her how to take care of a cat's box."

Duncan made his way down the stairs, keeping an ear cocked toward his niece's room. Rather than sitting down, he pulled aside the floor-length curtains to look out the front window. Or, rather, he tried, but found the curtain weighted. Duncan looked down just in time to see the kitten disengaging its claws from the cloth. Nudging the creature with his toe, Duncan shooed it away from the curtains. If the beastie had any chance at all of being in Connor's good graces, she certainly wouldn't if he found out she was destroying his furnishings. The cat dodged behind the sofa at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.

Duncan leaned against the low windowsill as Connor arrived downstairs, looking exhausted. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the cat. "There's the root of all evil." Rather than going after the animal, however, Connor took a seat on the sofa and sighed.

"Not going to chase it?" Duncan asked with a wry smile.

"Not worth it." Connor shrugged. "As long as it's not destroying anything, I'll let it wander."

It is in the perverse nature of cats to be most affectionate to those least apt to appreciate it, and so it was with Patches. The mottled furball wrapped herself around Connor's legs, and soon she was on his lap. "Ow," he said, swatting her away as she began to kneed her claws on his thighs. Undaunted, she sat down next to him, butting her head against his arm and purring like a motor. Duncan could even hear her halfway across the room.

"I think she's trying to tell you something," Duncan smiled. "'Keep me, Connor, keep me,'" he said in a high-pitched voice. "'Prrrrlease, Connor, let me stay.'"

Unamused, Connor raised an eyebrow at his kinsman. "Suddenly you're advocating for the cat?"

"No," Duncan replied, folding his arms over his chest, "for my niece, who wants to be like her dad."

Connor narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"She saved the cat from being killed. She rescued it from danger, brought it somewhere she thought it would be safe, took care of it..." He paused, thinking of the smell that had given away the cat's presence. "As best she could, anyway."

"And?" Connor inquired, agitated.

Duncan shook his head. "She was trying to do for the cat what you did for her, Connor."

Connor looked over at the cat, pursing his lips thoughtfully. He twitched his nose, then reached over and scratched the cat between the ears. Patches purred even louder, pushing her way into his lap again, where she curled into a ball. It lasted only a moment. Connor picked the cat up by the scruff of her neck and stood up. "Let's go put you with your partner in crime," he said, heading for the stairs.

Duncan took a seat on the sofa. It wasn't his place to interfere between Connor and Rachel, but to him the cat seemed a perfect addition to their household. He couldn't understand Connor's extreme reluctance. Though sometimes, he had to admit, he still didn't understand Connor very well, even after all their years of acquaintance. The elder MacLeod was a complicated man.

Upon his return, Connor settled into his favorite chair. Duncan remained quiet for a while, breathing in the still summer air. There was something about Connor's house that was simply less stressful than his own. Duncan attributed it to the love between Connor and Rachel that permeated the house. Even Connor's current tension was draining from him in that atmosphere.

"Done much this summer?" Duncan inquired lazily.

Connor shook his head. "Rachel's mostly been around the house. She likes to read. Sometimes she has friends over...they ride bikes and get ice cream and whatever else it is that twelve-year-old girls do when they are together and bored."

"No vacation?" Duncan raised an eyebrow. Usually the two traveled somewhere...he'd met up with them last year in Kentucky on a friend's farm. "Not even Coney Island?"

"Too dangerous." Connor frowned. "Too many cases of polio are showing up around here. I've heard business has been bad for the amusement parks this year because of it." He sighed. "I might not have anything to worry about, but if Rachel came down with that..." Connor shook his head sorrowfully. "I don't want to risk it."

Duncan nodded. "I can understand that."

"She's taking riding lessons," Connor added. Duncan smiled, amused that his kinsman felt the need to atone for sounding like such a no-fun parent. "I even took the moving-picture camera to film her." Connor nodded proudly. "She's good with horses."

"She's good with animals," Duncan expanded, aware that he might be taking his little jibe too far.

Connor's eyes narrowed darkly at his kinsman, but there was no reply.

Silence settled over the pair again as the sun descended toward the western skyline. Dinner was a quiet affair as well, and Duncan could feel the uneasiness in Connor that stemmed from Rachel's empty place at the table. Duncan recalled the joy of being a family with Little Deer and her son, and knew well how Connor felt about Rachel. But he could only begin to guess at the difficulty of raising a child through adolescence, especially as time wore on. In some ways it was the same as when they had been boys back in Glenfinnan, and yet so very different. Times changed, but it seemed they were changing quicker than they used to. Who knew how things would be in another ten years, twenty, fifty? And Rachel would be older then. Perhaps even a parent herself, looking to her father for advice on raising children. Duncan shook his head, evoking only a slight eyebrow raise from Connor. It was too strange to think about the future when twelve-year-old Rachel was in the here and now. Somehow she slowed down time for him. Duncan wondered if it were the same on a larger scale for Connor, and envied him if it were so. It had been some time since he'd truly tasted each year as it went by, rather than seeing it pass in a blur.

Duncan looked up as Connor pushed away from the table. His kinsman's meal was barely touched.

For Connor to punish his daughter was a rare event -- rare not because of over-leniency, but simply by occurrence. Rachel was a good girl. Even now, she had been trying to do good by rescuing the cat -- she'd only made the mistake of not telling Connor about it.

And Duncan knew Connor was torn over the issue of the cat. When Connor's mind was set, there was no hesitation -- Patches would have been sent flying out the back door in a flash, had Connor been firmly opposed to the idea of having her around. It was Rachel's attachment to the animal that was mitigating the circumstances, and Rachel's sadness that had sent Connor's decisiveness on the issue into a tailspin.

Duncan joined Connor in the living room, and they watched the sunset slip into night. The soft chirp of crickets was almost a lullaby, and Duncan might have fallen asleep on the sofa if not for his kinsman's restlessness. The pacing, finger drumming and toe tapping worked a counter-rhythm to the easy quiet of the night. Connor's emotions rather obviously had the power to torment him thoroughly. Duncan thought he was beginning to understand why Connor kept his distance from other people so much -- it was hard to keep your place in The Game when your insides were in turmoil.

After some time, Connor ascended the stairs to see if Rachel was asleep, and Duncan trailed behind him. Duncan took note of the evolution of Rachel's room since he'd first seen it three years before -- a bigger desk, fewer toys, more books -- before stepping in to see what Connor was shaking his head at.

Rachel was sleeping on her side, her arms loosely encircling Patches. The cat, head tucked affectionately under Rachel's chin, opened her eyes with a look that dared them to try to evict her from her chosen spot. Rachel tossed a bit in her bed, but the cat paid little attention, only giving some reassuring nudges to the girl.

Suddenly Rachel gasped and sat up, her eyes wide with fright. Before Connor could reach his shaking daughter, Patches was already administering her own form of comfort, butting Rachel's side and purring soothingly. Rachel took a deep breath as Connor sat next to her and stroked her hair. Patches nuzzled against the girl, increasing the intensity of the purr as she craned her neck to put her face closer to Rachel's. Rachel gave a wan smile as she stroked the cat's fur. "Can't get too attached now, hon," she said wistfully as she picked up the furball and put her on the floor.

"Are you having bad dreams again?" Connor asked softly, gently pushing the hair from his daughter's face. She nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Rachel shrugged. "I didn't want you to worry."

Connor gathered Rachel into his arms. "That's what I'm here for," he scolded gently. "I will always be here for you." Giving her one last squeeze, Connor kissed Rachel's cheek and tucked her under the sheets. As he rose, Patches leapt back onto the bed and curled up next to Rachel's shoulder. Connor shook his head, but didn't evict the cat. "Get some sleep now."

"Dad?"

"Hmm?" Connor cocked his head as he turned back to his daughter.

"Leave the door open. Just a little." Rachel bit her lip, an undercurrent of fear still in her eyes.

Connor nodded, smiling reassuringly. "I will. Goodnight, my angel."

Connor ushered Duncan out again, leaving Rachel's door the requested few inches open. The look on Rachel's face had brought Duncan back to his first night there, when Rachel's nightmares were frequent and a blood-curdling scream had awoken him. As he returned to his room, Duncan wondered how soon Rachel would become a real teenager and consistently keep her door closed to claim her privacy. He hoped it would not damage the strong bond between father and daughter when she finally did.

A few hours later, Duncan awoke from uneasy dreams and decided to go downstairs for a glass of whisky and some quiet thinking. As he approached the stairs, he heard a murmuring from Connor's room. Furrowing his brow at the half-open door, he crept over to listen.

"You aren't going to let me say no, are you?" he heard Connor coo. "No, you're going to push your way into my home and into my heart..."

A grin spreading across his face, Duncan popped his head in the doorway. "Caught in the act," he taunted.

Connor jumped at the voice, then grinned himself as he went back to scratching between the ears of the cat curled up on his chest. He gave a brief laugh. "What can I say, she likes me."

Duncan laughed as well. "Somehow I think the feeling is mutual."

Patches butted her head against Connor's chin, and he stroked the soft fur of her back. Connor looked up at Duncan helplessly. "You know I can't say no."

"I could have told you that earlier. About time you figured it out."

"What's going on?" Rachel's sleepy voice interrupted as she pushed between Duncan and the door. Her eyes widened at the sight.

"Rachel, come here," Connor said gently, sitting up and moving the cat to his lap. Rachel walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed. "I've changed my mind about keeping the cat," Connor told her quietly. "I reacted too hastily. But it still angers me that you lied to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," Rachel replied, lowering her eyes.

Connor let out a long breath as he rubbed Patches' neck. "I hold things back from people because there are things about me...if people knew about them, I would be an outcast. People might try to hurt me. And the secrets I keep hurt no one. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir." Rachel nodded solemnly. Duncan suspected the word outcast meant more to her than it did to most twelve-year-olds.

"But you are not to keep things from me. I love you, I will always love you, no matter what. But secrets between us will only make problems. All right?"

"Yes sir."

Connor drew Rachel forward and kissed her forehead. Not to be left out, Patches stood, stretched and wedged herself between them, purring loudly. Connor laughed. "Stinker. You can go to bed with Rachel now." He ruffled Rachel's hair. "We need the sleep. Maybe tomorrow we'll go to the stables and show Duncan what you've learned." Connor's expression turned serious. "Are you going to be able to sleep well?"

Rachel nodded. "My dad's only a scream away if I don't," she said, squeezing his hand.

"All right," Connor said, trying to return to his usual gruff mode, "all of you, out. It's time to sleep." He waved them all off, but Duncan caught him sneaking one last scratch behind the ears before Rachel took Patches away. Biting back a smile, Duncan made his way to his room and settled into bed. Just as he was drifting off, there was a thump on his mattress, then a thrumming motor-like sound.

"Patches!" Rachel called in a whisper. "Come out of there!"

Duncan scratched the cat behind the ears, smiling as Patches arched her neck and pressed her head against his hand. Gently he pushed her off the bed. "Go get your girl," he whispered. "She wants you." Patches turned to him, tilted her head at his words, then trotted out the cracked opening of the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

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