Disclaimer: The characters of Connor & Duncan MacLeod and the Highlander premise belong to Davis/Panzer Productions. I have only borrowed them for a time, and hopefully return them none the worse for wear.

This is the second in an in-progress series regarding Rachel's childhood. To see the first story, click here.

Christmas Wish
by Guinevere the Whyte

Christmas, 1946

The sun shone brightly in the winter sky, blindingly reflected by the several inches of snow that blanketed the ground. It was perfect Christmas Eve weather. Duncan could see some kids playing in a yard a few doors down from the now familiar house of Connor and Rachel MacLeod on Daisy Lane, but he didn't see Rachel among them. Whistling a jaunty tune, he marched through the gate in the white picket fence and up the porch steps to his kinsman's door.

"Anybody home?" Duncan called as he entered, removing his coat, hat and scarf in the foyer.

"In here." Connor was seated in a wingback chair in front of the crackling fireplace. Duncan set his bag down and settled into the chair next to Connor.

"I didn't see Rachel outside with the other neighborhood kids," Duncan remarked.

"Mmm." Connor's expression was tight. "A couple of doors down?" he inquired, gesturing in the direction Duncan had seen the children. Duncan nodded. "She doesn't play with them," Connor answered bluntly. "Or I should say, they won't play with her."

"Oh?" Duncan raised an eyebrow.

Connor shrugged. "Their parents don't like me because I don't attend church regularly and I don't make Rachel go to Sunday School. I'm a heathen in their eyes. Or worse, an atheist -- destined to be a Communist, you know." He rolled his eyes. "They tolerate me, but they don't want me around much. So that attitude has carried over to their children and Rachel." Connor's frown was hard-set. "It would be even worse if they knew she was a Jewish refugee as well. So far the kids only tease her in a general way. They haven't started telling her she's going to burn in hell or anything."

Duncan nodded. "Being Jewish still isn't accepted too well."

Connor gave a cynical laugh. "It's fine, as long as it's far from your nice, upstanding, middle-class Christian neighborhood."

"And how do you two handle it?" Duncan inquired.

"We keep things quiet." Connor shook his head shamefully. "Everything low-key...hidden, to be frank. We celebrated Hanukkah behind closed doors."

"At least you celebrated," Duncan reassured him.

Connor shrugged. "It's her heritage, as much as Scottishness is ours. I won't rob her of that. I've encouraged her to correspond with a rabbi as well, to learn more -- I'm certainly not capable of teaching her much about it." Connor stared into the fire, his face thoughtful. "She knows what Christmas is all about, and we do make a celebration of it...but we make it less about religion and more about the lessons in it, being charitable, doing unto others, that sort of thing."

"I suppose that suits you both best." Duncan knew that Connor had even more qualms with his religious upbringing than Duncan did, even though as Immortals they had both suffered from persecution. Connor only nodded at Duncan's assessment. "How does Rachel handle the kids not wanting to play with her?" Duncan asked.

"She does pretty well," Connor acknowledged, "considering. I've told her that not everyone likes everyone and that's okay. She seems able to comprehend that, and she has other friends to make up for it. But times like this..." Connor sighed. "Her playmates are all out of town, with their grandparents or other relatives. I'll bet Rachel is watching those kids through her bedroom window, wishing they'd include her."

Duncan gave a wry, mirthless smile. "It's not easy knowing other people don't want you around, is it?" It was a feeling both Connor and Duncan were familiar with, especially due to their Immortality.

Connor shook his head. "And there's nothing I can do about it, for her. It's just something she'll have to learn to live with."

"Unfortunately, yes. But she'll be all right, I'm certain -- she has to be with you on her side." Duncan smiled at Connor and stood up. "I'm going to go check on my niece."

"She'll be happy to see you."

Duncan dropped his bag off in the guest room before coming to Rachel's doorway. The girl was seated at her desk, chin propped in her hand, watching the kids outside -- just as Connor had predicted. Duncan lightly knocked, and Rachel's head whirled around. "Hi, Rach."

"Hi." Rachel turned back to the window.

"Not quite the greeting I was expecting," Duncan chided, sitting down on the bed. Rachel ducked her head and blushed. Gently Duncan patted the floral bedspread. "Come over here." Reluctantly Rachel climbed onto the bed next to her uncle. "What's wrong?" Rachel just shrugged. "Come now, you can tell me what's wrong. You can tell your Uncle Duncan anything." Duncan nodded toward the window. "Those kids out there, right? They won't play with you?"

"They hate me," Rachel said with conviction.

"Hate's a pretty strong word."

"They tease me," she pouted. "They only play with me when they need to make even teams or stuff like that. Even then, the people on my team are mean to me. They don't want me there, but the other team doesn't want them complaining if they lose when they're a person short."

Duncan put his arm around the girl and gave her a squeeze. "I wish I could tell you that wasn't true. But I know some people are just that way. Not everyone is as nice as we are."

"It wouldn't be so bad, but..." Rachel shrugged one shoulder. "June's at her auntie's, Martha's at her grandma's. There's nobody else to play with."

"Well, I'm here," Duncan said resolutely. "You can play with me." Rachel looked at him doubtfully. "What, you think I want to talk to stuffy ol' Connor all the time?" Rachel giggled, and Duncan laughed with her. "I think we should go downstairs and see what sort of Christmas sweets Connor has hidden away in the kitchen."

Connor looked up in surprise at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. "So, Uncle Duncan has the magic to get you to come out of hibernation, hmm?"

Duncan wanted to laugh. Was that a hint of jealousy in Connor's tone and expression? Duncan raised an eyebrow questioningly at his kinsman, but Connor only gave a puzzled look back, and Duncan shook his head as a never-mind. He doesn't even know he's showing it, Duncan thought, amused by the revelation.

"We've come to raid your pantry," Duncan informed Connor. "We demand sugary confections."

Connor laughed and began to tick off items on his fingers. "What would you like? Cocoa, chocolates, cookies..."

Duncan grinned. "All of the above."

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

Duncan could hear Rachel squealing just before the grandfather clock chimed the sixth hour. Like any average American child, she was anticipating her Christmas pressies. Duncan guessed that she was probably bouncing on Connor's bed now, and he'd better get himself up before she came bouncing on his bed too. Duncan pulled on a shirt and pants and wandered into the hallway, nearly crashing into Rachel.

"Well good morning," he greeted the girl. "What are you all excited about?"

"It's Christmas!" she shouted in glee.

Duncan formed his face into a puzzled expression. "So?"

Rachel furrowed her brow at him. "So...we can open presents now!"

"Presents? We're supposed to have presents? Hmm, I didn't bring anything..."

Rachel's eyes opened wide until Duncan smiled and she realized he was teasing. "You're mean!" she said with a pout.

"Well, if you think I'm so mean, maybe I should take back the present I brought for you!" Duncan grabbed Rachel and tickled her, then finally allowed her to escape and run down the stairs. Connor walked out of his room slowly, blinking his eyes firmly in an attempt to awaken.

"Long night?" Duncan asked as they descended the stairs.

"Why do so many toys require assembly?" Connor asked with a yawn.

"To torment parents." Duncan put his hand on Connor's shoulder, partly in empathy, partly to support his half-sleepwalking kinsman. It hadn't helped that Connor had let Rachel stay up later than usual, first to listen to carolers at the door, then to listen to Christmas music and stories on the radio. Connor had done most of the wrapping and assembling after finally putting her to bed, and had refused Duncan's offer to help.

Connor and Duncan settled down on opposite ends of the sofa, while Rachel sat on the floor in front of the decorated tree. Duncan wasn't surprised to find quite a few gifts under the tree, but he was astonished to find that there were more than he expected for him. Connor and Duncan had come to an agreement of sorts over the years that there were two things that were always appropriate to give one another: clothes and books. This year Connor would have a new sweater and a new copy of Moby Dick; and Duncan soon found himself with two nice shirts and a leather-bound edition of Shakespearean sonnets. But Connor had also given Duncan a photo portrait of Connor and Rachel, and some certificates that would apply toward train trips to and from the city -- an open invitation to visit.

Rachel had torn into a couple of her packages, and Duncan looked on happily as she glowed with delight at the addition to her porcelain doll collection that he'd given her. She seemed almost as happy with it as with the bicycle Connor had assembled. Taking a break from her gift overload, Rachel pushed a box into Duncan's hands and eagerly plopped down on the floor to watch him open it. Inside the box was a round wooden plaque, delicately painted with berry bushes and tiny birds.

"I made that," she informed him proudly. "Well, I didn't cut the wood, but I painted it."

"It's beautiful," Duncan said, and he meant it.

"She has quite the talent, doesn't she?" Connor said, as proud as Rachel.

"Quite."

Rachel jumped up, grabbed another box and handed it to Connor. The elder Highlander looked a bit disconcerted by the outside of the package, and Duncan leaned over to look at the tag: "To Papa, from Rachel." It took Duncan a moment to remember that Rachel didn't call Connor "Papa" -- he was Anderpapa, her "other father."

Connor slowly opened the package. Inside was a carefully framed drawing, another example of Rachel's skill. It wasn't perfect, but certainly good enough for anyone to easily recognize the forms of Connor and Rachel. The figures were circled by a heart, with the words "my family" scripted under it. Rachel blushed a bit as Connor wordlessly stared at the artwork. She traced the heart with her finger. "Surrounded by love," she said quietly, nervously.

"It's..." Connor shook his head in amazement. "It's lovely, Rachel. Thank you."

Rachel sat down next to Connor and wrapped her arms around him. "Merry Christmas...Papa." Duncan realized how deliberate the phrasing was, and by the look on his face, Connor was very aware of it as well. Rachel was making the strength of her love clear to Connor, whether or not she truly realized the depth and impact of the gesture.

"Merry Christmas, my angel," Connor replied. He shooed her away to open the rest of her presents before casually wiping away the tears forming in his eyes. Duncan recalled his kinsman occasionally alluding to having wanted children, and Connor's continued reluctance in bringing up the subject had led Duncan to understand how much Connor truly wanted the family that Immortality would never allow. Rachel would not understand for years -- and perhaps would never really understand -- the impact she was having on this man, and especially not what it meant to Connor to have her call him her Papa. It was a wish come true. Duncan smiled at Connor, who smiled back before turning his attention to his daughter and her squeals over the new paint set she had just unwrapped.

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

Connor was washing the dishes from the midday meal and Duncan was sprawled on the floor in front of the fire playing checkers with Rachel when there was a knock at the door. Duncan and Rachel paused their game as Connor, looking puzzled, hurried to answer. A moment later he called for Rachel, and Duncan followed his niece to the door.

Connor had ushered in a young boy, just a tad taller than Rachel but with broad shoulders and dark hair and eyes. Rachel stiffened at the sight of him, and Duncan guessed that he was one of her antagonizers. "Jack," she said tersely, nodding a mild greeting.

Duncan bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a smile. She sounded and looked just a little too much like Connor in that moment -- Connor when he was faced with an opponent.

The boy shuffled nervously under her gaze. "Um, we're making snowmen in my yard, and my mom said that I should come ask you to play with us, seeing as it's Christmas at all." Realizing he didn't sound very sincere in his request, Jack quickly added, "Will you come play with us?"

Duncan thought that his invitation sounded more like Jack's mother's idea of a charity act, and that Jack really wanted Rachel to play -- because he would be the one blamed by his mother if the invitation didn't work.

Rachel's face reflected her struggle with the decision. From their brief talk, Duncan knew she was well aware that those kids wouldn't treat her any differently, invitation or no. But she was also a child, and like most children she had the urge to run and jump and play with others, even if it meant going along with these kids for the day. Duncan gently laid his hand on her shoulder, for empathy and support. Whatever she decided, and whatever the outcome of the decision, he and Connor would stand behind her.

The touch seemed to give Rachel the strength she needed. She looked up at Duncan, then wrapped her fingers around his wrist. "I can't, Jack. My uncle is here to visit, and I want to spend time with him," she said resolutely.

"Oh." Jack looked a little crestfallen. Duncan couldn't help but feel some sense of satisfaction that maybe this kid felt a little unworthy right now -- the way he and others made Rachel feel. "Um, I guess I'll go then. See you, Rachel." Jack hopped on his bike outside the fence and took off down the street.

Rachel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. A brief look of disappointment crossed her face before she hid it beneath a fa�ade of indifference. Duncan glanced at Connor, wondering just how much the girl was, indeed, picking up from his kinsman -- and how much of it was just the residue of starting your life in a war-torn land with little to depend on besides one's self and the few people closest to you.

Duncan set his jaw determinedly and took his coat from the rack, then tossed Rachel's coat to her. "Well, since you want to spend time with me, I suppose we should spend some quality time together, hmm?"

Rachel furrowed her brow at him as they put their coats on. "Umm, sure."

Duncan tossed Connor's coat at him as well. "You too, Papa." Duncan made sure Rachel was properly buttoned up, then wrapped her scarf around her neck and helped her put her mittens on. "We've got to make sure you're well packaged. I don't want Connor angry with me because you caught a cold."

Connor was putting on his coat, but his expression toward Duncan was one of suspicion. "I don't know what you have planned..."

"Something worthy of Christmas," he replied with a grin. Taking Rachel's hand, Duncan led her out to the yard dusted with fresh snow, and Connor followed. Rachel tilted her head to watch Duncan as he bent down, hiding his actions. Her breath caught in a gasp as a lightly-packed wad of snow hit her chest. Squealing, Rachel got into the act, and soon all three members of the MacLeod household were caught up in a mighty snowball war. Laughing themselves breathless, they collapsed onto the ground.

Rachel moved her arms and legs against the fresh snow for a little while, then stood and pointed. "A snow angel. Now that's worthy of Christmas. Not a snowball fight." She teasingly glared at Duncan.

"Ah, but when you're a MacLeod, that's what Christmas is," Connor said, slapping Duncan's back gleefully. "Snow forts and snowball fights..." Connor and Duncan looked at each other, knowing one another's thoughts. And chores, and kilts, and a village celebrating together. And if you're an Immortal MacLeod...many a year when you'd rather not remember Christmas at all. "Let's go inside," Connor said, more sober. "A warm fire and cocoa and cider will round out Christmas nicely."

As Duncan turned to follow them, he glanced down the street. Jack and his friends had been watching them, he'd noticed earlier. Duncan hoped they were jealous, because he knew just how lucky Rachel was. Not only did she had an uncle and a Papa who would play in the snow with her, but she had a family that loved her with an intensity that no mere mortal would ever really understand.

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

THE END

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