Special thanks to G.C. for all the help with the Isle of Skye and Dunvegan descriptions. I couldn't have done it without you!

For a virtual tour of the Isle of Skye, visit www.skye.co.uk

The world was swirling by in greens and browns, all distinctions blurred by the light rain on the window of the rented Vauxhall Corsa as they headed down the A830. Guin sighed contentedly as she watched the passing scenery, leaning her head back against the headrest.

"Are you actually relaxing? I don't think that's allowed," Connor taunted her.

Guin turned to him and stuck out her tongue. "Don't make fun of me. I just might have to get cranky on you if you do." The rain was becoming lighter, and she could finally see some of the hills in the distance. "I wish John would have come with us."

"He didn't seem too enthusiastic about coming along."

"I actually think he wanted to come, but he didn't want to be in our way. I should have tried harder to talk him into going." Guin frowned.

"He'll be fine. He's got Duncan to entertain him. There will be plenty of chances for the three of us to do things together." Connor glanced over at her. "Right?"

"Yeah, I suppose. I just..."

"Ah ah ah, you're supposed to be enjoying yourself, Guin. Guilt-free weekend, remember?"

"I know, I know." She smiled a crooked smile. "I'll be sad to see Duncan go next week. I wish he could stay longer, but I suppose he's spent enough time in Scotland now. He has his own life to lead."

"Yes, he does. But I think he kind of likes having a 'family' to hang around with."

Guin laughed. "His Immortal kinsman, the live-in girlfriend and adopted kid. I think we make one pretty screwed up family."

"I dunno. I think we do okay." Connor's face was serious.

"We do just fine." Guin reached over and patted his hand on the steering wheel. "So far, we've managed to live through a hell of a lot, and we're still together. I think we might make it after all."

"So are you willing to think about next summer? Fourth of July in DC? The offer still stands."

Guin sighed. "I hate to make any decisions set in stone. That's still what, eight months away?"

"That's almost as long as we've been together," Connor stated simply.

"God, you're right," she replied, counting on her fingers. "It's been a little over seven months now, hasn't it?" He nodded. "Well...Can I say tentatively that I'd like to go?"

"You said it tentatively when I first brought it up. You said maybe." Connor paused; when Guin didn't reply, he continued. "You don't have to say yes now. I'm not going to start any arguing or hurt feelings over this, not this weekend. Just keep thinking about it."

"I'm always thinking about it," she said quietly. "And I want to say yes, I just..."

"Forget I brought it up. It's not worth discussing." Connor kept his eyes focused on the road ahead.

"Connor, don't be angry..."

"I'm not angry. Who's angry?"

"You've got that cranky tone in your voice, sweetheart," she replied. "You're dropping the subject because it's not going where you want it to. You sound just like my siblings."

"Now that's not a compliment." A smile played at the corners of Connor's mouth.

Guin snickered. "No, it's not," she said with a grin. "I promise, I'm thinking about it. I really want to go. And I suppose we'd need to start planning soon, especially if we want to be able to get a hotel room then." She huffed out a sigh. "It's not like we don't have the money that if things didn't work out, canceling reservations wouldn't bankrupt us. I guess we should go ahead and get them."

Connor shook his head. "Guin, don't let me push you into this."

"Connor, honey, I don't let nobody push me into nothin'." She smiled broadly. "I want to go. I think it's good for me to actually make a decision on this. It's time I made more of a long-term commitment to us." Guin paused soberly. "I love you."

Connor reached over and took her hand in his. "I love you too."

A comfortable silence fell over the pair as the scenery continued to stream by. A roadside sign caused Guin to pipe up. "Can we visit Glenfinnan on the way back?"

"Why?" Connor's tone was flat and uninviting.

Guin shrugged. "Just because. I thought you could show it to me, different stuff than I'd see otherwise. MacLeod history."

"Aren't Dunvegan and the Isle of Skye enough? They're the root of everything MacLeod."

"But they're not your roots, Connor. Glenfinnan is where you were born, where you came from."

"I know very well where I came from. And where I was cast out of. I don't want to reconnect with it," he responded bitterly.

"Then why did you move so close to it?" Guin paused, then answered before he had a chance to. "Oh, I get it. It overshadows all your memories, so you decided to have it do so in real life as well."

Connor tightened his jaw. "I'm not going. If you really want to go, I'll drop you off, and come pick you up later."

"You know that's not what I want." Guin could feel her stomach churn with guilt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I brought it up, I'm sorry I ever said anything about Glenfinnan. I won't do it again." She frowned and turned back to the window.

"Guin, I'm not angry with you. It's just not a place I want to deal with right now." Connor's attempt to dispel the tension between them failed. "Guin, are you listening to me?" he asked when her silence continued.

"I hear you." Guin's voice was quiet, and she did not turn to look at him.

Connor quickly found a wide spot in the shoulder of the road, pulled over and shut off the engine. "We are not going to start our weekend like this, I won't have it..." Connor's voice trailed off as she finally turned to him, tears beginning to streak her face.

"I'm sorry," Guin said quietly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Connor finished wiping the tears from her face and tilted her chin up with his fingertips. Leaning over to her, he kissed her forehead lightly. "You fret way too much over whether the things you say will upset me. It's not going to kill us if it happens now and then." Guin smiled weakly at him, and he started up the engine again, pulling back onto the road. "We're going to have fun this weekend, like it or not, young lady." He laughed, provoking her to giggle as well.

"I needed that," she said softly.

"I know." Connor frowned. "I suppose we could stop by on the way back," he conceded. "I should introduce myself to Rachel MacLeod."

"Yes, you should," Guin responded. "And maybe you could chase away some of your ghosts while you're at it."

Connor shrugged. "Maybe."

Guin paused. "Connor, if you really don't want to go, we don't have to."

Connor held up his hand. "Listen, you got me talked into it, don't let me talk myself out of it," he said with a half-smile. Turning his attention back to the road, he changed the subject. "This car handles okay, but I really miss my Range Rover."

Guin laughed. "Well, honey, you did it to yourself...that Quickening blew out the windows and lights on all three of our cars, and Fenster's." Guin knitted her brows. "What did you guys do with Fenster's car, anyway?"

Connor shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it was still able to run. We took it down the road a couple of miles and crashed it into a tree."

Guin raised an eyebrow. "You didn't."

"Hey, we had to make it look good." Connor shrugged. "Just don't ask what we did with Fenster."

Guin shook her head. "I won't. I don't even want to think about it."

A few more minutes passed in silence. Guin began to hum as she returned to gazing out the window. Suddenly Connor found a hand on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he asked in concern.

"Nothing. Just wanted to be touching you. I didn't mean to startle you." Guin tugged on his earlobe and stroked his cheek.

"That's very distracting, you know," Connor said, grinning devilishly.

Guin laughed. "I suppose it is. And I suppose I should stop doing it, for our safety's sake." She ruffled his hair, then pulled her hand back into her lap. "Okay, I'll be good now."

"So what happened to your meeting this weekend, anyway?"

"You mean the trade show-seminar thing?" she asked. "The guy who runs it came down with pneumonia, of all things, and he usually runs these things alone, so he had no one to fill in for him. That's why it got put off a couple of weekends." Guin frowned. "I don't know what Giles will do about scheduling, since he already traded me for the half-day. I might still have to go even though he'll be available."

"Maybe he'll just take it off your vacation time," Connor replied.

Guin shrugged. "Maybe. Probably, actually. He's very proactive when it comes to these shows, he'll probably want to be there himself. Thank God."

"I take it you don't like them."

"They're dull. Most of the time it's stuff we've already looked at, things we're already either interested in or not."

"So why do you go to them at all?"

"It's a way to find out something that maybe we didn't know about the products, and a way to make more contacts. It's good business." She shrugged. "Let's not talk about this anymore, shall we? This is my stress-free weekend now. Our stress-free weekend. No evil Immortals, no evil trade show people."

Connor's staccato laugh reverberated through the car. "Definitely. We both need this." He paused. "Even if it includes Glenfinnan."

"Connor, really, if you don't want to go..."

"I'm teasing. We'll stop by, we'll have a good time. No problem."

"Your nonchalance is disconcerting," she teased. "I know you better than that."

"Do you?" Connor raised an eyebrow at her.

Guin nodded. "You're dealing with the subject in as few words as possible to push the subject out of your mind. Even though you're the one who brought it up again, which you did because it's now foremost on your mind." Guin laughed as Connor flushed slightly. "Dear, in some ways you're quite predictable. Albeit it's taken me this long to figure out how to read you." Still mute, Connor turned a deeper shade of red. "Are you embarrassed or angry?" she asked him. Connor shrugged. "Did it again, didn't I?"

"No." Connor trained his eyes on the road.

"Bullshit. Are you torked because I brought it up, or because I can read you?" Guin turned to face him, but Connor remained silent. "Dammit, Connor, answer me. Don't shut me out. All our problems lately have been because of a lack of communication. Talk to me."

"You're not always going to like what you see, reading me," he responded finally, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

Guin shrugged one shoulder, leaning back into the seat. "I haven't always liked everything so far, and I don't expect to. You're not going to like everything about me, either. It's a matter of, at a minimum, coping with the information, coming to the point of acceptance. And, more importantly, of sharing that kind of information." She laid a hand on his shoulder again, then brushed her fingers against his temple. "I bet there's some good stuff in there, some good memories. I'd like to see those too."

Connor glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then reached over to hold her hand. "Yeah, there are," he responded quietly. "I'll have to find some of them for you." Guin squeezed his hand before he took it back to drive and they lapsed into silence again. The road quickly took them to Mallaig, and Connor drove straight through to the docks. "We made good time," he announced. "We'll definitely make the first ferry of the morning."

Guin eyed the docked ferry warily as they approached. Connor took care of the fees for themselves and the car, then drove up the ramp and parked. Connor and Guin got out and moved toward the front of the ferry for a better view. The fog was still heavy over the water, with the Isle of Skye only a faint dark blur in the white mists. Connor put his arm around Guin and gazed out to sea with her. "What a perfect view...shadowy...like we're crossing over into a magical land."

"We are," Guin breathed softly, staring across the water. She shook her head. "I'd take a picture, but no camera could capture what I'm feeling. I'd rather just enjoy it while I can." Guin leaned into Connor's embrace, the wind blowing the few loose hairs around her face. Connor pushed them back and tucked them behind her ears, looking down at her as she continued to gaze out into the fog.

"You haven't been to Skye before?" he asked her quietly, almost afraid to break the silence.

Guin shook her head. "No. I've been around this peninsula, but not out to the islands." Taking a deep breath of the cool, salty air, she exhaled a sigh. "I love the smell of the sea."

"A woman after my own heart," Connor smiled.

The marine life was already stirring; two seals were swimming, chasing each other in the waves, and otters were attempting to bask in what little there was of the diffused morning sunlight. Guin leaned on the railing to watch them for a while, then, as the mists began to wane, turned her gaze to the darkening shadow of Skye and the faint outlines of the other isles of the Hebrides. The world seemed more water than land, and a shiver ran down her back.

Finally the ferry began to move, swaying slightly on the waves. Guin gripped Connor's arm, firmly digging her fingernails through his sweater into his skin. He looked down at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, patting her hand.

Guin took a deep breath and nodded, adjusting her hands to retract her nails from Connor's flesh. "I'm not much of a water person. I don't think I've been on a boat in over 20 years, and then it was only once. They make me a little nervous."

Connor leaned toward her ear. "Good thing I heal quickly," he commented with a wicked grin.

"Sorry," she said, turning red around the ears. Connor put his arm around her and smiled.

"You'll be fine. Trust me."

"Don't have much of a choice, do I? They're not going to turn around for lil ol' me."

Connor laughed and gave her a squeeze. "That's the spirit."

Much to Guin's relief, Connor kept his arm around her for the length of the trip. Guin marveled at how strange it was that she felt safe with this man -- a man capable of cutting off another's head in order to survive. But that's necessity, she reminded herself. Kill or be killed, survival of the fittest. And yet I know he'd risk himself to protect me.

Guin had nearly begun to relax and enjoy the scenery, until she realized the scenery now was all on land -- and that they were approaching the dock at nearly the same speed they had traveled. "Connor," she asked nervously, "aren't we going a little fast?"

"We're fine," he replied solemnly. "The pilot knows what he's doing."

"But Connor..."

"Shhhh. He knows what he's doing." Connor's eyes were closed, and she knew he was listening to the engines and feeling every motion of the ferry as it finally slowed and met up picture-perfect with the landing. Guin recalled Connor mentioning that he had a boat himself, which a friend was currently "borrowing" and living on. Probably some Immortal trying to escape his past -- or a death, she surmised, watching the intent expression on Connor's face. Finally he opened his eyes and gazed back at her. He smiled, embarrassed.

"You slipped away to a good memory there," she said with a mocking pout, "and you didn't take me with you." Guin tugged at his arm and smiled up at him. "I'm right, aren't I? That was a good place."

"Yes, it was. And if I can ever drag you on a boat again, I'll show you what that memory is all about."

"Well, we do have to get back to Mallaig, you know, so there's at least one boat trip in the near future," she responded.

"We can always take the bridge to Kyle of Lochalsh," Connor suggested with a mischievous grin.

"Pah! Never. It is not, nor will it ever be, the proper way to travel to and from the Isle of Skye."

"Heh heh heh. I know that would be your answer. You're such a romantic." Connor took her hand and headed to where the car was parked.

The mass exodus from the ferry made Guin claustrophobic. Connor noted her discomfort, and took precautions to drive carefully so as not to make her more nervous after their boat adventure. Rather than driving straight through, Connor headed up the torturous road toward Taraskavaig. Despite giving Connor some strange looks for the detour, Guin appreciated the view of the Cuillin mountains from across the waters of the bay. "We'll see them again from the other side," Connor noted, "but I thought you might like this quieter view." Guin nodded breathlessly, staring in awe at the immense granite fingers jutting into the sky. Almost as impressive was the expanse of water that lay to the west, between them and the hazily visible islands of the Outer Hebrides. After more silent contemplation of their view, the pair were on their way again, back to the main road and up through Broadford and Sconser. The Red Cuillin -- the eastern side of the range, rounder and not quite as domineering as the Black Cuillin mountains, but still as impressive -- stunned Guin with their purple-tinted grandeur, heavily contrasting the vibrant green of the fields on the island. She sighed. "I still can't get over it," she remarked to Connor.

"What?"

"It's all so green," she responded.

Connor laughed. "And that's unusual?"

"You know I'm from Southern Arizona. I grew up in the desert. Yes, it's unusual!" She grinned at him. "And I love it. I never want to leave."

Determined to make arrival at Dunvegan their priority, Guin and Connor passed up the opportunity to travel to the Isle of Raasay and continued to Sligachan, which offered them a better view of the Black Cuillin ridge defining the southern skyline. The closer look made Guin's spine tingle. "I'm going to break my neck looking up at that," she commented. "I didn't think mountains could impress me so much."

"You'd be surprised what things nature can come up with to impress you," Connor responded. "I still get surprised once in a while, even after all these years."

Guin smiled at him, one eyebrow raised. "Hmm, yeah, nature does have its impressive surprises. Including some that defy age."

Connor looked at her, his furrowed brows unknitting as he caught her eyes. "That's not what I meant."

She laughed. "But it's what I mean." Guin shook her head. "It's amazing what you can adjust to. If I lived by these mountains, maybe I wouldn't find them so impressive, I'd come to accept their presence. Just like I've come to take for granted that you're nearly 500 years old."

Connor shrugged. "Living here, I don't think you could ever forget how impressive the mountains are. I'm not impressive. I'm just Immortal."

Guin gave him an incredulous look, then burst out laughing. "Are you listening to yourself, Connor? Good grief, man, Immortality defies all logic and science as we know it, and you're saying it's not as impressive as hunks of granite pushed up from the earth eons ago in a totally explicable way."

"At least we know there's a reason behind their existence."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Guin looked up at him, concern creasing her face.

Connor shrugged. "Why are we here? Why did God put us here?"

"Every human being asks that question, Connor. Nobody knows. I'd like to think there's a good reason for each of us to exist."

"But for us, for Immortals, it's different." Connor frowned. "We're here for a lot longer, and according to the Rules we live by, we have a larger purpose. But what is it? And why do we have these Rules, this Game? Why can there be only one of us left in the end? What kind of sick joke is this whole thing, cutting off heads and living forever?" Connor looked away from her, letting the wind blow his hair out of place.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Guin touched his shoulder gently. "What brought this on? It's more than just looking at the mountains, isn't it?"

Connor nodded solemnly. "Being what I am is frustrating sometimes. No one of us who lives very long escapes these kinds of doubts, not Duncan, and certainly not me." Connor touched her cheek tenderly. "The man you love and trust beheaded and murdered someone this week. How does that make you feel?"

Guin shook her head. "It's self defense, Connor. Kill or be killed. You have no choice."

"There's always a choice."

"What, to die?"

"To live on Holy Ground. To wait out the Game." Connor walked over and leaned against the car, folding his arms tightly against him.

"Um, sweetheart, don't forget that I have talked to both you and Duncan. Isn't that exactly what you told him he couldn't do, years ago? That he couldn't avoid the Game, or not for long, anyway?"

Connor looked down. "Maybe I was wrong."

"Connor," Guin began, planting herself squarely in front of him, "have you lost your mind? The Game goes on. And you have no choice but to play. Going to live on Holy Ground would do you just as much damage as sending me and John away would have. It wouldn't let you truly live." Guin gently put her hands on Connor's shoulders. "You really are weary of the Game, aren't you?"

Connor glanced up at her, then looked down again, his blue eyes darkening. "Very," he admitted cautiously. "I didn't realize it until this whole thing with Fenster. It's been a while since I've really had to play." Connor unfolded his arms and pulled Guin to him with a sigh. "Why can't I just stop being Immortal and live out my days with you?"

"Oh, sweetheart," she sympathized, giving him a squeeze, "I'd like that too. But we all have to play with the cards we're dealt." She looked up at him. "And today we were dealt one beautiful day on Skye. Just for today, you don't have to be so Immortal. Come enjoy this day with me."

Returning to the car, they continued up the road past Drynoch and Bracadale. Connor pointed out two flat-topped hills in the distance. "MacLeod's Tables," he said proudly. "They're actually extinct volcanoes."

Guin nodded. "They're quite majestic. Fitting for the MacLeods," she said with a grin.

"We are now in MacLeod territory," he responded with a smile of his own. "My clan's lands."

It was nearly noon by the time they reached the village of Dunvegan, where they stopped to grab a quick lunch before heading for the castle. From the main lobby of Dunvegan Castle they headed upstairs, down a long hall and through several rooms, stopping frequently in front of the displays, where Guin read and absorbed the information posted about each artifact.

Guin was awed by all the antiquity: rooms full of ancient flags, paintings, weapons. "I just love all this old stuff," she said with a sigh. Guin put her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle as Connor gave her a dirty look. Grinning, she took his arm and leaned in to whisper, "and you're my very favorite old thing." She gave a quiet laugh, and he mildly smacked her rear end.

"Behave yourself," he scolded, but grinned back at her as they moved into yet another room, at first glance seemingly like all the others, full of the usual MacLeod relics. It took a moment for Guin to recognize the framed artifact hanging between the twin windows to their left, when she and Connor stopped to gaze at it. "The Fairy Flag," she whispered, staring at the fragile fragment of cloth. Connor nodded. "Do you think it really has magic?" she asked him quietly.

Connor leaned toward her ear. "You're asking a 500-year-old man who doesn't age and can only die by one means if he believes in magic?" Guin looked up into his face as he cocked his head at her and winked.

"I should know better than to ask those things, shouldn't I?" She smiled and shook her head. "But I wasn't asking about you, I was asking about the flag."

"I think anything's possible." Connor shrugged. "This is one of the most treasured relics of the clan. Even if there's nothing to the flag itself -- and I'm not saying there's not something special about it -- the belief in it gives it a kind of power."

Guin nodded. "True." They paused for a moment longer, then moved to the next room, which sat over the dungeon. A recording with the sounds of moaning and coughing played from the pit, and a smile played at Connor's lips as he fought the urge to laugh. "Lacking a bit of realism," he remarked quietly to Guin. "But I give them credit for effort."

The pair moved on to yet another room with more relics, including the famous horn of Rory Mor, although Guin's attention was caught by the view of the loch from the window. She peered out, hoping to see the famous seals that lived in this area, but the loch was quiet and still. Frowning, she followed Connor downstairs, where they moved through several more rooms full of displays, then went out onto the gundeck. Guin's eyes searched the loch again. "Still looking for the seals?" Connor asked.

Guin nodded. "I can't help it. They're such beautiful animals. Besides, if the Fairy Flag can be magic, then maybe Silkies are real too."

"You really do like these stories, don't you?" Connor smiled, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'd rather deal with Silkies than the shapeshifters that are supposedly up in Waternish any day. The Silkies at least don't bother you unless you bother them first. From what I've heard, Nessie's supposed to be like that too."

"No wonder you dealt with the Immortality thing so well. These kinds of stories are nothing new to you, and you take them seriously."

"Well, I won't say for certain that any of those things are real, but I won't say they're not, either. I've always believed in the potential for things that are beyond everyday explanation." Guin blushed. "You must think I'm nuts."

Connor shook his head. "No. Being what I am, I can't deny that there might be other things out there that can't be explained easily. And I have to be thankful that you're that open to it, or you wouldn't be here with me now." Connor looked out and pointed to a nearby outcropping. "There you are, there's your Silkie."

Guin smiled. "He does look intelligent. Maybe he is."

"It's a she." Connor's remark drew an odd look from Guin. "Hey, I was a sailor for too long, okay?" They laughed together as they went back inside and ended their tour.

Connor took the more scenic route back to Sligachan, past Portree. Guin gazed out her window the entire time, a quiet sigh escaping her lips now and then as her eyes drank in the beauty of the land. Connor smiled at her contentment, finally laughing at one of her more audible sighs. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked with a sly grin.

"Very much, thank you," she retorted, making a face at him before offering him a genuine smile. "This is it," she continued. "This is the peace I've sought all my life, whether by climbing the tree in my parents' backyard, or visiting more rural places like Flagstaff and Prescott, or venturing further out to places like the Tetons and Yellowstone. All those places had echoes of what I was looking for." Guin sighed again. "But the Highlands...this, this is it. This is what I was searching for, where I was meant to be. This is home."

Connor glanced over at her. "I'm glad you feel that way."

"Why?" Guin tilted her head to one side as she gave him an inquiring look.

"Because not everyone feels that way. And since this is where I want to stay for a while..." Connor's voice trailed off.

"Then it's good that the person you want to be with wants to stay here too," Guin finished for him. Connor nodded. "Sometimes I wonder at how we came together, Connor. How we just happened to be at the same party, and happened to go out on the veranda at the same time. And how, of all the little podunk towns in Scotland, I happen to land in yours."

"And that you happen to even want to be in a podunk town in Scotland," Connor added.

"And that, wanting to be in said podunk town, I got the opportunity dropped in my lap." Guin laughed. "As humans, the twists of coincidence are beyond our grasp of understanding. If we're not complex-thinking enough to figure that out, then we'll never fully figure out things like Immortality, or Silkies, or what's really in Loch Ness." Guin sighed. "Some things are better just left in the hands of God."

Connor nodded. "Sometimes you don't have a choice."

It was quite late in the afternoon by the time the pair caught a ferry back to Mallaig, and it was long past nightfall when they reached Glenfinnan. "It's pretty late," Connor remarked. "We can stop in some other time."

"It's not late for a Saturday night, and I think you at least owe it to yourself and Rachel to introduce yourself to her." Guin's set expression was just barely visible to Connor through the darkness. He smiled.

"All right, all right. You're not going to let me get away with not stopping, are you?"

"Not a chance, bub."

Connor and Guin walked into the tavern and headed for the bar. A few of the locals toned down their voices and stared at the newcomers, but for the most part, they drew no undue attention in the relatively crowded pub. The dark-haired woman at the bar looked at them expectantly. "What can I do for ye?" she asked.

"I'm looking for Rachel MacLeod," Connor replied congenially.

The woman's look turned stony. "Aye, that would be me. And what business do you have with me?"

"I'm Connor MacLeod," Connor extended his hand, "a...uh...friend of Duncan's."

Flustered, Rachel pumped his hand nervously. "Oh my goodness, hello! I'm sorry if I seemed...well, you know...I don't often get people who come asking for me directly. It makes me a wee bit nervous."

Connor offered a charming smile. "I didn't mean to startle you. This is my..." Connor groped for the appropriate word, "...girlfriend, Guin Barnes."

"Oh yes, Duncan spoke of you both when he was here," Rachel spouted, offering Guin her hand. "So what can I get ye? On the house, of course," she offered graciously.

"Nothing, thank you. We were just passing through on the way home, I just thought I'd stop by and finally meet you." Connor consciously avoided Guin's disappointed look.

"Och no! You're not going to abandon Glenfinnan that quickly, are ye? Stay, have a drink. I'll even offer you a room for the night," Rachel tried to tempt him.

Connor made the mistake of glancing down at Guin's pleading face. "But my son..." he began to protest.

"John is safe with Duncan," Guin reminded him. "Just give them a call. And we did pack in case we had to spend the night somewhere, remember?"

"I never thought I'd regret being well-prepared," he muttered under his breath. "All right, I give up. Thank you for your generosity, Rachel. We'll stay."

Graciously accepting Rachel's offer of a meal, the pair spent the evening chatting with their new friend, who regaled them with stories of the local legends, including at least one -- having to do with a man who came back from the dead to avenge his father's death -- that sounded quite familiar. Still, Guin and Connor called it an early evening at 10 and headed up to the room that Connor had insisted on paying for, so as not to take undue advantage of their hostess' generosity -- particularly since she also offered them a couple of riding horses to use the next morning for exploring the village.

The two wearily changed clothes and climbed under the covers. Soon, however, Guin felt Connor rise from the bed. She watched as he walked to the window, opened the shutters and sat on the windowsill, staring out into the still night. She gazed at his form silhouetted there for a moment, then finally got out of bed herself and padded over to where he was sitting. "Can't sleep?" she asked quietly. He nodded. "Your ghosts chasing you?"

Connor shot her a dark look. "Don't tease me."

"I'm not teasing you, sweetheart," she said gently, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "I'm just worried about you."

Connor picked up one of her hands and softly kissed her fingers. "I'm sorry."

Guin gave him a squeeze, then moved around to sit next to him, taking his hand in hers. "I wish I knew what to do for you," she said with a frown. "I feel so helpless." Silently Connor tugged at her hand, pulling her to his side. Putting one arm around her waist, he gave her a long, tender kiss, then looked into her eyes.

"You got me here. The rest is up to me." Connor huffed a sigh through his nostrils, gazing out the window once more.

"It may be up to you, sweetheart, but you don't have to go through this alone. I'll be with you every step of the way...if you want me to be, that is." Guin snuggled against him as they held each other.

"I want you to be," he responded quietly. Almost in a whisper, he added, "I need you to be."

"Come to bed," she urged him gently. "The sleep will do you good. There's nothing more you can do to face your past til the morning." Connor nodded and let her lead him back to bed, leaning into her with a sigh as she curled her body around him protectively. "You're too good to me," he said quietly, closing his eyes.

"No, I'm just trying to be here when you need me," Guin responded. "Like I should be." Gently she kissed his forehead and settled down to sleep.

The drone of pipes and beating of drums -- the calling cards of battle, stirring the blood of all good clansmen. But this battle was nearly over. And among the victims in this grisly scene were two familiar faces: Angus MacLeod, severely wounded but alive, leaning over the deathly-still form of Dugal MacLeod...

Connor awoke with a start, and his sudden motion shook Guin awake as well. She watched silently as, propped up on his elbows, he took several deep breaths and shook his head. "What is it, sweetie?" she asked gently. "What's wrong?" Connor shook his head again, but sat up fully, his arms circling his knees. Gingerly Guin ruffled his hair and rubbed his shoulders. "Was it a nightmare?" He nodded. "Tell me about it." Mutely Connor turned his face toward the window, where the dawn was just beginning to peer through. "Or don't," she added, more sharply than she intended.

Connor glanced back at her, then returned his gaze to the window. "I don't have to tell you everything."

Stung by his words, Guin swallowed her protest and gently laid her hand on his shoulder. "No, you don't," she admitted quietly.

Connor turned to her, scanning her guilty face and downward-turned eyes. He stroked her cheek and tilted her chin upward. "I know you're just trying to help," he said gently, meeting her eyes. "I'm not used to that."

Guin smiled faintly. "Get used to it," she advised. "I'm not going away."

Connor laughed. "I guess I can learn to live with that." He put his arm around her shoulders. "I don't think I can go back to sleep. Let's have some breakfast and head out."

"Good morning, lovebirds," Rachel greeted them as they came downstairs. "Going to ride up to the old clan ruins? Duncan really enjoyed going out there."

Connor nodded. "They're not too far beyond the church, are they?"

"Not too far, no...what's left of them, anyway. I always try to picture that castle rising up to the sky, the bridge spanning the water, everything in its full glory the way it was half a millennium ago. I'm sure they were just magnificent."

Guin watched Connor's eyes go distant. "They were," he said under his breath.

"Did you say something?" Rachel asked.

Connor shook his head. "Are the horses ready then?"

"They're all yours. Jamie already knows, he has them waiting for ye."

The horses were gentle and strong, quickly taking them up through the greenery of Glenfinnan to the kirk. Connor stopped them here, nodding to the priest who was entering the church. Connor's eyes quickly roved over the kirkyard before he began to circumnavigate the building, searching among the ancient tombstones.

"What are you looking for?" Guin asked.

"Ancestors," Connor answered simply, surveying the much older tombstones littering the slope behind the church. Making his way downhill, Connor finally stopped before a series of stones. Guin followed curiously. "These are my parents," he said quietly, then gave a scoffing laugh. "At least they're the ones who adopted me. I was very, very young when they died." Connor scanned the stones as he moved further down the slope, then stopped and knelt beside one particular gravestone with the name Angus MacLeod. "This is the man who raised me, along with my cousin Dugal, who was orphaned as well. And a good father he was to me." Connor breathed out a sigh. "He saved me from being beheaded by the person who took my mortal life. And he saved me from burning when my clansmen accused me of being in league with Lucifer...even Dugal thought I was the devil himself. But not Angus. He convinced them to banish me instead, so I could live, even if it was without my clan." Connor stroked the headstone affectionately. "I wonder if he knew I was different, somehow. Maybe he even knew I was Immortal. Too bad he wasn't."

Guin put her hand on Connor's shoulder. He remained kneeling for a moment, then stood up and brushed the dust from his hands. "Strange that Dugal's grave isn't here somewhere too...but who knows where he might have ended up, after all." Connor shook off the image from the dream he'd woken from hours earlier. "Let's get out of here." Guin held up her hand a moment to stop him, then wandered further down the slope. Minutes later she returned with a handful of wildflowers and heather, which she laid on Angus MacLeod's grave.

"He deserves that much, and more," she said quietly in response to Connor's surprised look. He nodded, putting his arm around her.

"That he does."

They walked back up the slope to the horses and set off again. Just as the kirk and its grounds disappeared from view, the ruined castle loomed in the distance. Connor slowed his horse to a mild trot as they approached, and Guin sensed that if it weren't for her presence, he would have already turned around and abandoned even the thought of going near the castle. As it was, he rode on wordlessly, his eyes and thoughts distant, his face vacant and unreflective of the emotions that were turbulently tumbling under the surface.

Just yards from the bridge leading to the island the castle was situated on, Connor dismounted, and Guin followed suit. He stood unmoving for a few moments, as if trying to get his bearings Silently they tied their horses to a nearby tree and moved closer to the bridge, which to Guin did not appear very safe to stand on. Hesitantly Connor walked out onto the bridge, one step, then two. "Be careful, Connor," Guin said gently.

"I am." With one hand on the stone wall of the bridge, Connor raised his head and closed his eyes. Shadows of emotion crossed his face, and Guin could almost feel him slide back in time, to a place very early in his memory. Suddenly she felt very alone in this haunting place, and she decided she'd rather be wherever he was.

Guin cautiously stepped onto the bridge and tentatively slid her arm around his. "Tell me what you see," she said softly.

Connor smiled, eyes still closed. "You really want to know?"

Guin nodded. "I want to be where you are. Tell me."

"Five hundred years ago, this castle stood proud. So did the village beside it -- which is gone now..."

"Don't tell me like a historian," she protested. "Tell me like you see it, as if I were there, seeing it firsthand." Guin closed her eyes and leaned against his shoulder. "I want to picture it like you knew it."

Connor began again. "The castle is strong and tall, a stone colossus rising above the water, its bridge stretching across the expanse of the loch between island and mainland. You can hear the clansmen calling to each other as they march across the bridge and through the village, preparing for battle. The wind is whipping through the clan's banner, flapping it like a sail. There's a wide range of scents too: heather, pine, burning peat, sweaty men, oiled leather. Burning crosses are situated along the way as a call to battle, and the steady beat of the drums invigorates our hearts as we come to the far end of the village to the battlefield." Connor paused, and Guin looked up into his face. His expression was still serious, but unlike it had been on the way to the castle, it was now lively and full of pride. After a moment, he opened his eyes. Guin watched his expression go from proud to anguished as he gazed at the ruins. "That was a long time ago," he remarked with finality.

"You don't avoid this place because of the memories, you avoid it because of the changes," Guin observed. "Being here reminds you of how old you are and how much has changed."

Connor looked at her in surprise. "I hadn't really thought about it that way," he responded. "I think you're right."

"By the look on your face when you were talking, it obviously wasn't so much the memory itself that was bothering you."

"No. My memories of this place are generally pleasant, up to a point," he said quietly. "But when I was driven from here, my whole life changed. Nothing has been the same since." Connor frowned and twitched his lips. "It's amazing how empty this place makes me feel."

"Then let's not dwell in the past," Guin replied hastily. "Shall we go home?" Connor nodded, and they returned to their horses. As they mounted, Guin spoke. "Connor?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I made you come out here."

Connor raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't be sorry," he replied. "It's good that we came."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Besides, this means I don't have to come back this way for a while," Connor said with a smirk.

"Got your once-a-century visit over with, eh?" she teased.

"Yep." Connor raised his head proudly, and Guin laughed and shook her head.

After bidding Rachel goodbye, Connor and Guin finally traveled the last few miles home. Guin had just shut the front door behind them when Connor took her hand and pulled her toward his office. "I want to show you something," he explained as he released her hand and fumbled for his key to the cabinets. From one he drew out something long and carefully wrapped. Guin watched curiously as he unfurled a huge ancient flag, graced with red "fire" and a bull's head. "The clan banner," he said proudly, tying the flag to its props and leaning it against the wall. He stepped back to gaze at it with her.

"How did you end up with it?" Guin asked. "Weren't you driven out with only the clothes on your back?"

Connor nodded. "But a few years after I left, the chieftain decided they needed a new banner, that this one wasn't bringing them the right kind of luck, or something to that effect. Somehow Angus got ahold of it, and brought it to me."

"And why would he do that?"

"I think he was trying to remind me that I was still Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, no matter what anyone said," Connor answered. "And all these years later, it still serves that purpose, so I guess he knew what he was doing." Connor's gaze traveled affectionately over the old cloth. "I wish I could keep it out, but this isn't the right place for it." After a moment, Connor transferred his gaze to Guin. "What would you think of putting an addition on the house?"

Guin shrugged. "I dunno. Why? What do you have in mind?"

"Back in New York, I had a room that I kept all these things in," Connor said, gesturing to the cabinets. "I was thinking of building a room like that, off the kitchen, overlooking the slope on the northwest side of the house."

"Sort of an 'auld lang syne' room," Guin commented, "a remembrance room. I like it. I think you should do it."

"Auld lang syne," Connor repeated. "Should I have that imprinted on the lintel of the addition?"

Guin laughed. "Sure, why not?" Connor made a move to put the banner away, but Guin protested. "No, leave it out. Just for a little while." He moved back again, and Guin whispered, "I can almost hear it flapping in the breeze, with the wail of the bagpipes accompanying it. The stillness of the battlefield before the battle, like the calm before the storm..."

"Are you sure you weren't there with me, all those years ago?" Connor taunted with a smile as he put his arm around her.

"You never know, dear," she replied. "Maybe I was."