"Good job!" Ceirdwyn complimented her student, patting Guin on the back as they finally put down their weapons.  The pair had been practicing for a couple of hours and were sweaty even in the Wednesday evening chill.

"Thanks," Guin replied, smiling sadly.  "I still can't believe you're going."

"Neither can I."  Ceirdwyn looked Guin squarely in the face.  "You really need to keep up your practice and not let that talent go to waste."

Guin snorted.  "And just who am I going to practice with?" she asked.

Ceirdwyn shrugged nonchalantly.  "Thomas...Jason...Connor."

"I knew that's what you were getting at," Guin replied snidely, turning her face away.  "Like he'd want to take me on as a student."

"He might," Ceirdwyn replied, packing the excess fencing equipment into the last of her shipping boxes.  "If you asked him."

"I haven't talked to him since I left," Guin confessed.

Ceirdwyn raised a brow.  "You've let five days go by without one word to him?" Guin nodded guiltily.  "You should go see him, Guin, even if it is just to fence."  Ceirdwyn pursed her lips.  "To be honest, he could really use the chance to show off his skills more than actual practice.  I think the mental boost would do wonders."

"I don't think the sight of me would work any miracles on him," Guin replied flatly.

Ceirdwyn took Guin's shoulders and turned her friend toward her.  "Be honest with me, Guin.  Do you not love him anymore?"

Guin shook her head fiercely.  "I love him more than ever..."

"Then do this one thing for him, Guin.  He needs it."

Guin looked into Ceirdwyn's eyes.  "But there are other circumstances in the way..."

"Dammit, Guin, put aside your differences and give him the gift of your presence, just this one time."  Ceirdwyn was thoroughly serious; Guin had never seen her this worked up over one of her friends.

"I will."  Guin's stomach churned as she gazed into Ceirdwyn's worried face.  "I promise."  Guin finally tore her eyes away.  "I'm going to miss you, Ceirdwyn."

Sensing what her friend needed, Ceirdwyn embraced Guin tightly.  "Bet you never thought you'd say that to someone you hated so much at first sight."

Guin blushed.  "I made a hasty judgment."

"But an understandable one."  Ceirdwyn smiled at her.  "I'm going to miss you too.  And if it weren't for you, Sam and I never would have met.  So I owe you."  Ceirdwyn pursed her lips.  "Which reminds me...I have something for you.  Are you still having those nightmares about Mason?"

Guin nodded.  "Now and then.  Now they're intermingled with all sorts of other bad dreams about work."

Ceirdwyn pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to Guin, who read the name aloud: "'Dr. Gina Whyte, psychiatric therapist.'  Gee, thanks a lot," she added sarcastically.

"You don't understand."  Ceirdwyn shook her head.  "Gina is a friend of mine, and she and her partner, Dr. Kennedy, handle a lot of 'special cases' -- people dealing with the 'side effects' of Immortality.  She's Immortal herself, and handles a lot of the specific problem cases.  Dr. Kennedy is mortal, and handles more of the general counseling, including couples counseling.  You should definitely consider the former for those dreams, and you and Connor should think about the latter if you want to come back together.  I know they're in Glasgow, but they're very good about working around schedules -- Gina might even try a session over the phone if that's all the time you've got.  Just let her know I recommended you."

Guin slid the card into her pocket.  "Thanks.  I'll give her a call."  She tapped her foot nervously.  "I guess I'd better get going before the rain gets any worse."  Tears sprung to Guin's eyes.  "I'm really going to miss you, Ceirdwyn."

"We'll see each other again," Ceirdwyn reassured her with another hug.  "And there's always the phone, and e-mail.  Just take care of yourself, Guin, and don't let the world get to you."  And take care of Connor so he won't lose his head, she considered adding, but one look at Guin's already upset face stopped her.

"I'll try," Guin replied with a teary smile.  "Bye."  Guin waved as she grabbed her coat and walked toward the door.

"Bye."  Ceirdwyn solemnly waved back as Guin closed the door behind her.
 

"Hmm?" Connor answered, not taking his eyes from the flickering television screen.

"Wanna play some catch?" John asked hopefully.

"Too cold."

"Scrabble?"  John watched his father's emotionless face for any sign of interest.

Connor shook his head.  "Not now."

John timidly entered the room and sat down next to his father, who was continuing to pay no attention to his son.  "Guin told me it wasn't my fault," John said quietly.

Startled out of his numb state, Connor looked over at his son.  "What wasn't your fault?"

"Her leaving."  John looked down at his hands in his lap.

Connor sighed and put his arm around John's shoulders.  "I know it's not, John."

John shrugged.  "I just wanted to make sure you knew."

Connor hugged his son tightly.  "I know."

"It's only been five days, but I miss her already," John said, tears coming to his eyes.

"So do I."  Connor frowned.  "But we shouldn't dwell on it since there's nothing we can do about it."  He nodded toward the cabinet.  "Get the Scrabble set out, we could both use the distraction."

John set them up to play, but Connor couldn't make heads or tails of the tiles before him.  He stuck to building short words and collecting tiles.  "Your heart's not in it," John finally remarked when he had far outscored his father.

"No, it isn't," Connor agreed, shaking his head as he searched for another word among the letters before him.

"Dad...what's this other Immortal like?  The one who's after you, I mean."

Connor shrugged.  "He's not like Fenster or Mason.  He won't hurt you."

"But he'll hurt you," John countered.  "How come?"

"He thinks he's doing the right thing by coming after me."  Connor sighed.  "He's not evil, just...misguided."

"Well, I wish he'd misguide himself somewhere else," John replied moodily.

Connor gave a brief laugh.  "So do I.  But at least I don't have to worry about you this time.  He's honorable enough to keep it between the two of us."

John's face turned contemplative.  "It's hard having to always worry about someone else getting hurt, isn't it?"

"Mmm hmm."  Connor shook his head sadly.  "Maybe it is better for Guin to distance herself from me, it will keep her out of harm's way in the long run."

"But I'm still a problem," John added solemnly.

"You're not a problem," Connor replied, trying to catch John's eyes.  "And soon you'll be old enough to be out on your own, and then I won't have to worry about you, either."

"Doesn't mean that they couldn't use me against you when I'm older," John retorted.  "Or that I'll stop caring about whether you live or die."

Connor reached over and playfully ruffled his son's hair.  "I think we should stop thinking about these things and get back to our game."
 

"Are you all right?" Rebecca asked quietly, seating herself on the bed.  Guin didn't answer, but quickly and gratefully accepted the other woman's embrace.  "Want to tell me about it?  Was it another dream about that mugger in New York?"

Guin had told Rebecca only a partial truth in regard to the incident in New York; she had wanted to be able to share with Rebecca, but couldn't bring herself to reveal Connor's secret to her friend.  With this new dream, she was going to have to rely on half-truths again.

"It was about the mugging," Guin replied, "but different than the ones I've had before."  Guin took a deep breath.  "This time Connor was there...I called out to him, and he ignored me, even though I knew he saw me."  In fact, Connor dared Mason to kill me -- that it wouldn't matter to him.  Guin shuddered as the full truth of the dream crossed her mind.  And it probably wouldn't, now.  I've been such a witch toward him, he probably couldn't care less if I died.

"Poor girl," Rebecca cooed softly.  "It's okay, it's only a dream."

"I'm sorry I've woken you up so many times this week," Guin said, her voice laced with guilt.  "You've probably gotten as little sleep as I have."

"Guin, I hate to be pushy about this, but I really do think you need to seek counseling for these nightmares," Rebecca said sternly.  "They've been going on for far too long, and wreaking havoc on your life.  It's time to get them banished."

Guin nodded, blushing.  "A friend said basically the same thing to me last night.  She recommended someone to help me.  I'll call for an appointment tomorrow."

Rebecca studied her friend closely.  "You know I'm nosy.  Would you like my skewed, biased opinion on all this?"

Guin shrugged, a twinge of anxiety running down her spine.  "Sure."

"I think these dreams started out not because of the trauma itself, but because you blame yourself for it," Rebecca began.  "You blame yourself for not taking the care to avoid the situation, even though you know you might never have seen it coming regardless of how careful you were.  You're a guilt-absorber, you take it on yourself a lot.

"You're also a perfectionist.  When work started getting difficult and stressful, you channeled all that negative energy into your dreams -- they intensified because you didn't feel you were working up to par, no matter how hard you tried, and the self-blame built up.

"And now that you and Connor are having problems, he gets added into the mix, appearing in the dreams as someone unwilling to help you."  Rebecca finally paused.  "You know, if there's something you want to talk about regarding you and Connor, I'm all ears."

"It's simple.  I'm stressed, he's stressed, and we need a break from each other.  That's all."  Guin shrugged indifferently.  "I just need to think things through."

"Well, if you need to think out loud, I'm a good sounding board."  Rebecca gave her a serious look.  "And if it's not me, I suggest you find somebody.  I think you need it.  I know your relationship is private to you, and I respect that, but I still suggest seeking out counseling."

Guin sighed.  "As usual, you're right.  I'll definitely call the psych my friend recommended tomorrow."

Rebecca gave Guin's shoulders a squeeze.  "Sweet dreams.  And if you can't have those, may you not have any at all."
 

Guin's mind kept wandering back to her visit with Ceirdwyn four days earlier and the woman's concern over Connor's state of mind.  Knowing how he'd felt about the appearance of another Immortal and his desire to run away from the situation, Guin could well imagine that Connor's self-esteem could use any boost it could get -- just as hers had been boosted simply by calling the psychiatrist Ceirdwyn had recommended and making a "get acquainted" phone appointment for Monday.  Guin glanced at her watch.  Somehow time had slipped away from her, and it was noon already.  She'd been munching an array of snacks and wasn't hungry, but a break was exactly what she needed, and a little exercise -- say, from fencing -- would do her good.  Guin gathered her things and decided she'd pay Connor a visit.

Connor had apparently spent the morning clearing the drive with his own mini-snowplow, as last night's snowfall was now piled along the sides of the drive.  Guin sighed as the house came into view.  It had always been a calming vision for her -- grand but natural, secluded but never lonely, a place that belonged in its surroundings while remaining the dominant feature of the clearing.  Guin parked the Volvo in its usual place, trying to get her stomach to stop churning as she made for the house.  Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell, fidgeting for the few minutes she had to wait until Connor answered the door.  The expression on his face was pure astonishment.

"Uh, hi," Guin said quickly.  "I had a couple of hours to spare and wanted to get some fencing practice in today...all my equipment's still here, and I figured I'd see if you'd spar with me a bit..."  Connor's face was blank of any expression except the hint of shock that remained from opening the door, and Guin suddenly realized how awkward the moment was.  "I'm sorry," she said, blushing deeply.  "You must be busy, I don't mean to bother you, I didn't even think...I'm sorry.  I'll be on my way."

"No," Connor protested, the sound of his voice jolting Guin.  "Please, come in."  He stepped aside to permit her to enter, and Guin did so, but hesitantly.  "John's at Pete's house for the rest of the day, he'll be sorry he missed you.  So, you want to practice?"

Guin nodded nervously.  "Yeah."

"Then let's practice."  Connor led the way into the fencing room.  "Foils or real weapons?"

"It's up to you."  Because I'm here for your ego, not mine, she added mentally.

"We'll start with foils."  Connor tossed her a mask and protective suit, while donning a mask himself and selecting the foils.  "Let's see what you've learned."

Connor's cockiness came out from the get-go, and he seemed to be intent on proving how many times he could score a "hit" on Guin.  She could see that not only was his ego getting the boost that Ceirdwyn had said it needed, but he was also taking out his aggressions on Guin and getting her back for leaving.  Guin allowed him his venting -- even encouraged it -- but she was getting frustrated with his use of some unconventional tactics to knock her down whenever he got the chance.

Guin was coming to the brink of calling an end to their sparring match when suddenly the phone rang.  In that moment of distraction, Guin swiftly knocked the foil from Connor's grasp and threw her shoulder into him, knocking him over.  She held the tip of her foil against his throat.  "Not such a freaking cocky Immortal now, are you?" she gloated.  Connor angrily pushed the foil away and sat up, flinging away his mask and glaring at her.  Guin removed her own mask and set it and the foil aside.  She stepped up to Connor, holding out her hand.  Reluctantly he took it, pushing himself up off the floor.  Removing her protective suit, Guin was overcome with guilt as she watched Connor's agitated movements, realizing her little stunt had undone the esteem-building he had so desperately needed.  "I'm sorry," Guin said quietly, lowering her eyes as Connor approached her.  "I shouldn't have done that."

Connor caressed her cheek for a moment, then slid his hand behind her neck and kissed her deeply, hungrily.  Guin didn't fight him; instead, she returned his kiss, equally demanding.  Connor moved his lips to her neck, kissing her enticingly, hoping against hope that she was as serious in her actions as he was.  His pondering was answered a moment later as she whispered breathlessly in his ear: "Take me."

Connor eagerly took his cue and pushed her backward, pressing her against the wall.  Guin could see an animalistic instinct lighting his eyes as he kissed and touched her roughly, reveling in his power over her as he swiftly divested them both of their clothes.  Guin did not resist; rather, she encouraged him to have his way with her, taking his sweatshirt as a pillow as she submissively laid herself out on the floor, bracing herself for whatever brutality he might choose to inflict upon her.

Connor simply gazed at her for a long moment as she lay there, however, and the inhuman element burning in him began to fade; Guin watched as his countenance gentled, his eyes becoming mild as they took her in, as if truly recognizing her for the first time.  Connor knelt beside her, kissing her sensually and lightly caressing her body as he began their lovemaking.

Connor's gentleness despite his hunger brought Guin to tears, and she closed her eyes to avoid his loving gaze.  She wanted him to be rough with her, to take out his frustration and anger on her as he had while they were fencing.  She wanted him to punish her; his gentleness only made her suffer.  The pain in her soul seeped into her face.  "Connor, stop."

"Am I hurting you?"  Connor's concern was reflected in his eyes.

"Yes."  But not the way you think, she added to herself.

Connor carefully pulled away from her and curled next to her on the floor.  "Stay for dinner," Connor whispered to her, gently caressing her body as he nuzzled her hair.  "Stay the night."

"I can't," she said quietly, standing up and beginning to get dressed.

Connor picked up his jeans and slid into them.  "John's not supposed to be back til later, we could have dinner, just you and me.  I won't push for more.  Just stay for dinner.  Please."

Guin shook her head.  "I've stayed too long already."  Because you're still too attached to me, and if I stayed you'd just try to talk me into not leaving.  And that's not what's best for either of us.  Guin pulled her hair out from under her collar as she exited the room; sliding into his sweatshirt, Connor followed her.  Guin quickly grabbed her purse and coat from the rack and was reaching for the door handle when Connor laid his hand on her shoulder.

"Did I do something wrong to make you want to leave so soon?"

Guin shook her head.  "No.  I've just got a lot of work to do."

"Drive safely," Connor said soberly.  Guin turned and looked up at him.

"Always do."  Guin tore herself away from Connor's painful gaze and hurried herself out to the Volvo, pulling away from the house and down the drive.  Just before she reached the main road, Guin stopped the car and burst into hysterical tears. Part of her wanted to turn around and rush back into his arms, but she knew it wasn't the right thing to do.  "The only good break is a clean break," she told herself resolutely, wiping the tears from her face and starting up the engine.
 

It had taken long enough to banish Alex's ghost from the house after she'd left, and she hadn't been around all that much.  Guin, on the other hand...everything reminded Connor of her.  And despite her hints to the contrary, he knew in his heart and from her actions just now that Guin never intended to come back to live with them.  Connor flung a stone across the water, watching it skip a few times, then sink.  Maybe if I'd gotten on my knees and begged her to stay...  He shook his head.  No, nothing will change her mind.  Unless I can suddenly become un-Immortal.  There were still so many of her things in the house right now, but even after she came to claim them, he knew the ghost of her would remain to torment him.  Maybe it's time to move on, Connor thought, turning his face to the pale sun.  Maybe it's time to go someplace else and start again.

A rustling in the grasses startled him, and he looked over to find a stag camouflaged in the first line of trees.  He closed his eyes, remembering what Ramirez had taught him.  Breathing slowly, he could almost reach out with his senses and become as one with the animal.  But Connor was far too out of practice; the stag leapt away before he could connect with it.

Just like Guin, Connor sighed to himself.  Just when I got close, my Immortality startled her away.  He looked up at the sky.  "Why do you do this to me?" he shouted.  "Why do you hate me so much?"  Connor lowered his face and shook his head.  I shouldn't have let her see so much, he admonished himself.  I should have shielded her more from the Immortality and everything it brings with it.  It took some time, but it finally overwhelmed her.  And I didn't catch on before it was too late.  A tear began to trickle down his cheek, and Connor wiped it away bitterly.  Why should I have feelings over her? he thought angrily.  She's the one who left me.  Even if my Immortality is at fault.

Connor shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, and his fingers hit something small and hard.  He withdrew the platinum band and turned it in his hand, its simple mounting of sapphire and diamonds glittering coldly in the sunlight.  She almost caught me on this, too, he mused, remembering how she'd fretted over not being able to find one of her rings -- not knowing that Connor had "borrowed" it to size the engagement ring, which she hadn't known about either.  And now I have no use for it, Connor thought bitterly, contemplating throwing it in the stream.  Instead he slid it back into his pocket with a sigh.

Connor took a deep breath, pushing away the sadness.  Just as he had every time before, at every loss.  He'd have to put it behind him, leave the past and look on to the future, just as he'd done for hundreds of years.  And add one more scar to his old, battered soul.
 

"What's your problem?" Susan taunted.

"What's my problem?" Guin retorted sharply.  "Oh, it's just another Sunday at the office, that's what the problem is."

Susan looked around at the floor.  "Where's the trigger that set off that explosion?  Surely I must've stepped on it."

Sometimes talking to you is like walking through a minefield! Connor's voice shouted from Guin's memory.  "Sorry, Susan.  I'm not sure whether to blame it on the bad week last week, or the one I know is coming."

Susan laughed.  "I know the feeling.  At least we're all in the same boat.  Which is why I'm buying pizza for our little group here.  Any preferences?"

Guin shook her head.  "I'll eat anything.  But I think right now I need a nice long walk, to clear my head and stimulate my appetite.  Just make sure you save some for me."

"Will do."  Susan gave Guin an encouraging wink as she walked out of the office.

The wind was blustering as Guin began her walk, and she secured her coat more tightly around her.  The cold might wake me up a little, at least, she thought, making her way up the road that would lead to her favorite little cafe.  Guin walked on quietly, but she couldn't escape the echoes of Connor's words in her head, almost as loud as if he were actually speaking them.

"You only think in negatives.  And you always think you've got it worse than anybody else.  Can't I have a lousy day too?"  Guin shook her head at the memory.  Yes, and they were just lousier because of my attitude, she thought.  I just kept hurting you and hurting you until you were reduced to just shrugging me off, but I knew inside it was killing you.  Tears came to Guin's eyes.

"Go ahead, run off and cry, the usual."  Yep, the usual, Connor, she repeated to herself.  I was always whining and begging for your attention -- when I wasn't too busy hurting you, that is.  Trying to manipulate you with guilt.  You are so much better off without me and my mind games.  I've caused you more than enough pain.

"Just because I'm Immortal doesn't make me immune to your spite and your hate."  No, you're not.  Which is why I left you, Connor, to protect you.  But if I told you I was protecting you, you'd still argue against me leaving, no matter how tired you are of me, because you're too used to me.  Yesterday proved how attached to me you still are, and that's not healthy.  So I've been cruel to you to make you let go and let you get on with your life without me -- without feeling guilty that you didn't try hard enough to make me stay.  Guin sighed as she finally made it to the cafe and got her coffee.  And it seems to have worked.  It may hurt for now, Connor, but it'll be better in the long run.
 

Jason had yet to best Connor, and it was becoming something of a sore spot to him.  Seeing Connor's overt aggression, Jason hoped it would give him a small advantage, since Connor tended to show no mercy for his students during practice.

The two combatants came together again, swords clashing repeatedly, interrupted only by moments of backing off and circling each other.  Connor coached during the breaks.  "Watch your stance," he'd warn.  "Your center of gravity is too high.  Your grip is too rigid."  The longer they went on, the more Connor criticized and the more aggressive he became in his fighting, his temper showing through his serious facade.  Jason kept an eye on his teacher, looking for the mistake that would give him a chance at victory.

Connor struck hard, raining blow after blow such that Jason could barely keep up with deflecting them.  Jason finally slid his blade along Connor's, the steel sparking as the opponents closed in on each other.  Hilts engaged, the two men struggled both against each other and for their own footing on the slick hardwood floor.  Giving in to his anger, Connor pushed too hard and lost his traction.  He fell hard; the katana loosened from his grip on impact and slid out of his reach.  Jason triumphantly pointed the tip of his sword at Connor's throat.  "Not bad, eh?" Jason said proudly.

Connor knocked the sword tip away with his forearm and hastily picked himself up off the floor.  "Happy now?  You won.  Now go home."  Connor brushed invisible dust from his clothes, picked up his katana and headed for the door.

"But we're not done..."

Connor turned on they younger man.  "We're done when I say so, and I say we're done.  Go home."  Connor exited, leaving Jason staring after him in bewilderment.  Finally, Jason shrugged to himself and headed for the front door.
 

"Thanks, Margaret."  Trembling a bit with nervousness, Guin picked up the phone.  "Dr. Whyte?  This is Guinevere Barnes."

"Hello, Ms. Barnes.  Is this still a good time for you, or should I call back later?"

"Now's as good a time as any," Guin replied, feigning nonchalance.

"I know you're probably not in a place where you can talk so freely, so I'll try to word my questions so you don't have to say anything that will draw attention to your responses.  Since Ceirdwyn recommended me, and you mentioned it was a 'special case,' I'm assuming the dreams you said you've been having have something to do with Immortality."

"Yes," Guin responded.

"Are you Immortal?"

"No.  A man I'm...a man I was involved with is."

"You said 'was.'  You're not together anymore?" the doctor queried.

"No."

"And is that because of these dreams?"

"No."

"Is it because of some incident that sparked these dreams?"

"No.  Work and stress kind of worked their way between us."  Guin shifted, uncomfortable with the prying questions.  "But there was an event that sparked the dreams."

"I see."  Dr. Whyte paused.  "Then the contents of the dreams are related to an incident involving you and your former significant other?"

"Yes.  And another," Guin added.

"Ah."  Guin could hear the doctor scribbling something down.  "A challenge?"

"Yes."

"And you were used against him in this challenge, then?"

"Yes."

"Kidnapped?  Threatened with bodily harm?"

"Yes to both."

Dr. Whyte hesitated.  "Raped?"

Guin shook her head.  "No, but he threatened to after he got Connor out of the way."

"Did you witness a beheading?"

Guin contemplated this a moment.  "Sort of.  Connor made me turn my head, but I saw the results."

"And you witnessed Connor -- that's your S.O., right? -- have a Quickening."

"Yes."

"Was this the first time you witnessed one?"

"No, second."

"Hmm."  The doctor paused again.  "And are your dreams more about what actually happened, or projections of what might have happened?"

"What really happened.  But occasional projections."

"Did you talk it out, after the incident happened?  Either with Connor or with someone else?"

"A little bit, immediately after.  But I didn't talk about it much -- I didn't want to worry Connor further, and there really wasn't anyone else to talk to."

"Mmm." Dr. Whyte didn't speak again for a minute, but Guin heard more pencil chicken-scratching.  "And how are these dreams affecting you -- job, sleeping patterns, and so on."

"It's definitely interrupted my sleep," Guin replied.  "I'd guess that's probably made me snippier than I would have been otherwise.  It doesn't seem to have affected my job itself much, but between the lack of sleep and the stress at work, I'm cranky and exhausted a lot when I get home."  Guin sighed.  "I just want to get rid of these dreams.  Although they've been lessening on their own...only to be replaced by nightmares about work."

"Hmm."  Dr. Whyte tapped her pencil on the desk.  "You know, I'd like to actually see you and talk this out in person, but I know you have a busy schedule, and I can't squeeze you in on a Saturday for another two and a half weeks."  She laughed mildly.  "Seems like Immortality is causing a lot of problems these days.  Anyway...I'd still like to see you then, if you think you can get down here on that Saturday."

"I'll definitely try to make it," Guin promised.

"But here's what you can do in the meantime...Are you an analytical person?"

Guin shrugged.  "Yeah, pretty much, if you mean do I like to analyze things to death."

"That's exactly what I mean," Dr. Whyte replied.  "Do it to your dreams.  Write them down, record what you ate that day when you had them.  If they wake you up, try to finish them out in your imagination -- but the way you want them to end.  Manipulate them, study them...the point is to make yourself bored of them, to dispel your fears of them.  When they're no longer the boogieman in the closet, you'll probably find that their power over you will cease.  And when I see you in a couple of weeks, we'll see how well this technique has worked, or if we need to try a different approach."

"I'll give it a try," Guin said sincerely.  "Thank you."

"Is 10 o'clock too early for you, for that Saturday?  I know it takes a while to get down here."

"I can make that," Guin assured the doctor.

"I'll have the receptionist give you a reminder call, and I'll see you then.  And don't forget to work on your dreams."
 

"Jason, can I see you in my office?" Connor called over to him.  Jason glared at his boss, but nodded and strode over, his gait reflecting his pent-up anger.  Connor held the door open for him, then closed it behind them.  "Have a seat," Connor offered.  Jason eyed him suspiciously, but seated himself in front of the wide desk.  Connor settled himself in his chair with a sigh, leaning forward on the desk and steepling his fingers.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Jason asked flatly.

Connor stared at his entwined fingers, taking a deep breath as he avoided Jason's continued glare.  "I want to offer an apology for my behavior last night," he said finally.

"Oh?" Jason raised a brow cynically.  "For letting me win or for kicking me out?"

"Letting you win?" Connor asked, looking at his student in disbelief.

"When I thought about it afterward, I realized it was way too easy," Jason replied.  "If I had used those moves on any other day, I wouldn't have had a chance..." Jason studied Connor's shocked face carefully, the realization dawning on him.  "You didn't let me win, did you?"

Connor slowly shook his head.  "But I violated some very basic rules -- I let my emotions get to me, and I lost my temper."

Jason's face lost its angry countenance as he let a moment pass in silence.  "You're always there for me, boss.  If there's anything I can do for you, Connor, just name it."

Connor shook his head.  "I just have to let things play out.  With Guin and with D'Angelo."

"Have you talked to Guin recently?" Jason asked hesitantly.

"Three days ago -- on Saturday."  Connor frowned.  "It didn't turn out too well."

"I may not know women as well as you," Jason smirked, "but flowers always seem to be a good idea."

Connor smiled faintly.  "Sometimes they are," he acknowledged.

"Then I suggest you get her some.  Couldn't hurt."  Jason scrutinized Connor's face for a long moment, then shook his head.  "I know you've told me the D'Angelo stuff is none of my business, so I'll just say this: don't lose your head."  He rose and extended his hand toward his boss.

Connor shook Jason's hand briefly, but couldn't meet his eyes.  "I won't," Connor said quietly.  Jason looked him over one last time, then silently walked out of the office.
 

Guin shrugged.  "I can't get enough done with the promotion reviewers around asking questions during the day.  This gives me time to think and get stuff done.  Besides, there's not much to go home to."  Giles opened his mouth to speak, but Guin cut him off.  "Don't say it.  Don't even bring it up.  I don't want to talk about him, I don't even want to think about him right now.  It was hard enough seeing him three days ago.  Right now my focus is my job and this promotion that will get me nowhere."  She looked up at him.  "If I thought I could refuse it without losing my job altogether, I would in a heartbeat.  Why in God's name are they even thinking of promoting me when there's no room in middle management to move me to?"

Giles shrugged.  "You'll see."

"You keep saying that.  What is it that you know and I don't?"

Giles shook his head.  "I can't tell you everything yet.  But know that when you're ready to be promoted, there will be space for you."

Guin sighed.  "I'll take your word for it, Giles.  But all this watching over my shoulder is really stressing me out."

"It'll end soon enough," he replied with a reassuring smile.  "Then you can get back to normal...and back to..."

"Don't say it!" she warned.  "Don't even mention his name.  If this is what I'm like when I'm stressed, and middle management is stressful all-around, then Connor doesn't need to be around the likes of me.  This way I'm only making myself miserable in my attempt to hang on to my work visa and stay in this country."

"I'd almost forgotten about that," Giles remarked.  "You're sort of stuck in this job with all the politics of the visa, aren't you?"

"Yep.  And I never thought I'd say this, because I do enjoy working here, but I have to add the word 'unfortunately' to your statement.  Sometimes the thought of job-hopping would almost be worth the hassle."  Guin sighed.  "So like I said, at least this way I'm only making myself miserable."

"Do you honestly think you're only making yourself miserable?" Giles asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Connor will get over it.  He's better off without me now, he just doesn't see it yet."

Giles shook his head.  "You have a lot to learn, lassie, but I know better than to try to beat it into your head.  You'll open your eyes soon enough on your own, I suppose."  He shrugged.  "Well, I'm leaving now, so you're the last one here, all right?  I'll lock you in.  You be damned careful going out to your car and going home."

"I will.  I promise."  Guin listened to Giles walk down the hall toward the front of the building.  She thought she heard him talking.  Probably just talking to himself, she laughed.  I do that all the time, especially these days.  The sound of footsteps coming up the hall, however, made Guin wary, and she stood up to be prepared for whomever might be approaching.  Her face turned stern and her body stiffened as Connor appeared in the doorway.

"Hi," he said with a hopeful smile.

"What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly.

Connor gave a half-shrug.  "I was just in the neighborhood and decided to stop by."

"Liar.  You're never in this area unless you go out of your way to be here.  It's in the opposite direction of home from the shop."  Guin gestured to the long box cradled in his arm.  "What's that?" she asked suspiciously.

Although taken aback by her coldness, Connor stepped forward and offered her the container.  "It's for you."

Guin looked down on the transparent lid of the box as she took it from him.  A dozen long-stemmed roses lay inside it.  Guilt tightened Guin's chest and her heart sank.  "And you're giving me this because..."  She looked at him expectantly, without a smile.

"Because I thought you might like them."  Connor's tone echoed his disappointment.

Guin nodded.  "I do.  They're very nice.  Now, I have some work to get back to, if I might escort you out so I can lock myself back in..."

"Guin, do you hate me?" Connor asked abruptly.  "Tell me, what have I done, and how can I make it right?"

You've remained too hooked into me, that's what you've done.  So I've got to make it hard on you to keep you from hurting even more later on.  Guin took a deep breath and shook her head, preparing her half-fib.  "I just need some time to be by myself, Connor.  Time to recuperate from my job.  It has nothing to do with you."

"Then why are you punishing me?" he asked, trying to catch her gaze.

Guin closed her eyes.  "That's not my intention."

"That's what's happening."

She shook her head, opening her eyes again but casting them downward.  "You don't understand..."

"No, I don't."  He raised an eyebrow, but remained silent.

"Connor, please leave."  Guin motioned toward the door, still looking down. Connor hesitated, examining her fretful face.  When she said nothing more, but continued gesturing, Connor shrugged with an exasperated sigh and walked out of the office.  Guin followed him to the front door of the building, where he turned toward her.

"Pretty symbolic," he said bitterly.  "You ushering me out into the night and locking the door behind me."

Guin tightened her jaw.  "Goodnight, Connor.  Drive safe."

Connor brushed his fingers against her cheek, smoothing a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.  "Always do," he said quietly, swallowing past the lump in his throat.  Connor turned from her and strode out into the car park, the dimness almost swallowing his form as he stepped into the Porsche and turned the ignition.

Still trembling from his touch, Guin closed and locked the door.  She leaned her forehead against the cold steel, letting a few sobs escape before getting a hold of herself again.  Stop it, stop it, stop it, she told herself angrily.  This isn't about what you want, or what he wants.  This is about what's best for you both.  Slowly she trudged back to her office, throwing herself into her work before her other thoughts could overcome her.
 

"Mr. Beaton, please."

Connor shuddered as he recognized the voice.  "That's me."

"I take it from your tone that you know who I am as well," Damon D'Angelo replied.  "Good.  Then you know what I'm calling for."

"Yes," Connor acknowledged, leaning back in his chair but not relaxing.

"You have exactly one week to live, Mr. MacLeod, or Beaton, or whatever you'd like to go by.  Next Wednesday, 10 p.m.  I'll call you early next week with a location, but I won't make you go too far to die."

"How gracious of you," Connor replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I try.  And I wouldn't leave town if I were you...because I will track you down, no matter where you go."  D'Angelo hung up, leaving Connor with his eyes closed, still holding the receiver to his ear as he shook his head in a mixture of anger and disbelief.
 

"Hi, Connor," a familiar female voice answered cheerily.

"Alex?"  Connor frowned as he sat down.  This was not an intrusion he welcomed.  "What can I do for you?" he asked flatly.

"Boy, I know you and I aren't always on the best of terms, but you're being pretty cold," she replied.  "I just wanted to know if you'd gotten the invitation for the baby shower, since you didn't show up."

"You really expected me to show up?" Connor answered stonily.

"I was hoping you'd at least wish me well."  Alex kept her voice calm, all too familiar with this side of Connor's personality.  She knew full well that he was trying to provoke her, but couldn't quite fathom why.  "I had the baby two days ago, and we're home and well."

"That's nice," Connor replied, his tone still frosty.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Connor?  I know you still have some issues with me, but..."

"It's not you."  Connor didn't continue.

"Then what is it?" Alex asked gently.  "You sound like you need to talk to someone."  Connor remained silent, and Alex sighed wearily.  "I hated playing these games when I was with you, and I still hate them.  Twenty questions was never my forte.  Let's see, is it a woman?"  Alex could tell by the sigh from the back of Connor's throat that she'd hit the mark.  "You fell in love again, didn't you?" she said with a smile.  "What happened with her?"  There was no sound on the receiver except Connor's faintly frustrated breath.  "C'mon, Connor, talk to me."

"She was living here, and she's not anymore," Connor answered bluntly.

"And was your breakup recent?"

Feeling that he was revealing too much, Connor sighed heavily but didn't respond.

"That's a yes," Alex said knowingly.  "And does she have a name?"

"What do you care?" Connor shot back.

"I do care, Connor," Alex quietly replied.  "I care that you're unhappy.  Tell me her name."

Connor frowned.  "Guin."

"Is she as lovely as her name?" Alex prodded.

Connor ignored her question.  "Is there a reason you called?"

"Mmm hmm.  We -- Jeff and I -- are going to be up that way in a couple of weeks.  I'm not sure the exact times or places yet, we're visiting friends to show off our new little bundle.  Jeff collects antique weaponry, and I thought maybe I could talk you into showing off some of your collection."  Alex gritted her teeth as Connor sighed in exasperation.  "I know you have a lot of animosity towards my husband, Connor, but I'd like us all to be at least on friendly terms.  I'd feel better if I could get you two to talk a little about a neutral subject."

"Like weaponry," Connor said cynically.  "With sharpened examples nearby."

"Connor..." she chided him.

"Fine.  Just come by, John and I will either be home or we won't."

Alex shook her head at his bitter indifference.  "I'm looking forward to seeing you again.  And I hope you and Guin can work things out, sounds like you have a lot invested in her."

"Goodbye, Alex," Connor cut the conversation short.

Alex gave a brief laugh.  "You haven't changed, Connor, did you know that?  Good to know some things stay the same.  Goodbye, and take care."
 

"What?"  The weariness of the day reflected on her face, Guin turned toward the living room and Rebecca.

"It's Wednesday.  Do you know where your manners are?" Rebecca asked snidely.  "You've been avoiding me like the plague.  I'd like to know why."  Rebecca's tone was firm as she gazed steadily at her friend.

Guin shook her head.  "I'm sorry."

"I don't want an apology," Rebecca replied, gesturing for Guin to sit down next to her.  "I want to know why."

Guin took a seat next to her friend.  "I've just been in a bad mood.  I figured you'd rather I ignored you than snipped at you."  Guin blushed.  "I'm sorry.  I know I'm not much of a congenial houseguest."

"You don't get much of a chance to vent at work, do you?" Rebecca asked flatly.  Guin shook her head.  "So you pack it all down, all that stress and anxiety...and it's spring-loaded to be unleashed on the next person you see.  Or to show up in your dreams."

Guin lowered her head, but nodded.  "I'm sorry, Rebecca."

"I've already told you I'm not looking for an apology.  I'm just trying to get you to understand what you're doing."  Rebecca sighed.  "You need a constructive way to vent.  It couldn't hurt your relationships or your dreams.  You need a way to turn the negative into a positive."

"But how?" Guin challenged.

"You always seem to enjoy your time at the shelter..."

"I don't have time for that anymore," Guin countered, then frowned.  "But my best days were the ones when Connor was having a bad day, and I was there to comfort him."

"Sometimes the best selfishness is the kick you get out of helping others," Rebecca said gently.  "Maybe you need to find a purpose for yourself outside of work."

Guin pursed her lips.  "I just don't have the time."

"Maybe you need to find the time..."

"Now you sound like Connor," Guin said, beginning to get angry.

Rebecca shrugged.  "Maybe he was right.  Or is it not allowed for him to be right?"

Guin sighed.  "It's allowed."  She shook her head.  "I just don't feel like I'm much of an asset to anybody right now outside of work...I'm certainly not a good girlfriend, and I'm not much of a good friend at all."

"That's exactly why you should consider volunteering again...it will lift your self-esteem and let you be able to be a better person all-around again.  And maybe work won't be so all-important when you see you have value outside of it."  Rebecca shook her head as Guin frowned.  "Just think about it, all right?  Don't write off the idea yet.  And if this could help your work, your dreams and the situation between you and Connor, then you should be thinking about it."
 

Connor knew if he thought about her long enough, the details would become more vivid: the curve of her back as he spooned around her, the light tropical scent of her shampoo, the tickle in his nose from the hints of jasmine and sandalwood in the essential oil mix she wore as perfume, her soft laugh when they were being silly, her shrieking laugh when he was tickling her, the feel of her arms cradling him on the nights when he needed her most.  Nights like tonight.  Connor sighed deeply, trying to expel his frustration and sadness in that one breath.  Can't escape you anywhere, can I?  I just keep stumbling over all the memories of you.

Rolling himself out of the bed, Connor slid into his sweatsuit and crept downstairs to the den, where he plunked himself down in front of the television, glass of whisky in one hand and remote in the other.  Connor flipped on the television, hoping to lose himself in some mindless program.  Within minutes, the household feline leapt onto the cushion next to him, making her way to his lap.  From there Mandy pricked her claws into his sweatshirt, staring into his face as she settled herself against his slanted chest and began to purr.  Connor could feel the vibration throughout his torso.  Reluctantly he put down the remote and stroked her soft black fur.

"How are you, Manders?" he said softly.  Like the horse's name "Dusty," Connor hadn't come up with that nickname; Guin had called her that.  Originally purchased for John, Mandy had quickly decided that Connor was "her person" -- and despite his best efforts, she had refused to leave him alone, and he had eventually come to accept her company graciously.

Aside from the gentlemen of her household, however, Mandy hadn't ever been very social.  But this highly independent cat who disliked and avoided nearly everyone had mysteriously and immediately taken to Guin -- crawling on her lap, curling about her legs,  possessing her in ways that Mandy hadn't done to anyone since the feline had claimed Connor.  Guin was one of "her people," and Mandy really seemed lost without her other human.

Connor heaved a heavy sigh, and Mandy put her head down on her paws, touching his chin with her nose as her chest continued to rumble against his.  Tears came to Connor's eyes.  "You miss her, don't you?" he asked.  "So do I."  Connor closed his eyes as he meditatively stroked Mandy's sleek coat.

"Dad?"  John hesitated at the doorway, then came in and sat down as his father silently waved him in.

"Can't sleep?" Connor asked his son.  John shook his head.  "Me either.  But I suppose we should both try."  Connor attempted to hand the cat over to John, but Mandy sunk her claws into his sweatsuit and refused to let him go.  "Damned cat," Connor swore softly.

"I think she knows who needs her most," John stated with a smirk.

Connor gave a brief laugh.  "Maybe she does."  Setting the cat back on his lap, he gently stroked Mandy's back as she curled up in his lap and began purring again.  "I guess I'll have to take her to bed with me."  Connor smoothed back his son's hair.  "You need to go back to bed, John.  And so do I."  Lifting the cat from her spot, Connor cradled Mandy against him as he stood up.  "Let's try to have some good dreams now, shall we?"
 

The repetitive clang of steel on steel made Connor's heart race as he bore down on his opponent.  The other man struggled to keep his feet, lashing out desperately with his rapier to stop the blows descending upon him.  Six months earlier, Connor had taken the head of Katrina D'Angelo, a woman who had been sucked into the nefarious world of drug smuggling and dealing, and then used her business to cover it up.  Most of her conspirators had been mortals, and he'd been satisfied to see them locked away.  This one, however, was Immortal, and had managed to avoid arrest -- but Connor's blade would soon take care of that.  Connor struck mercilessly, finally managing to knock the other's weapon away and thrusting his katana into the man's midriff.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Robert Grusling, before I seal your fate?" Connor growled, raising his blade high.

"Why...why are you after me?" the man stuttered.  "Why have you hunted me down?"

"For being in league with Lucifer...in the guise of Katrina D'Angelo," Connor hissed.

"If you mean her drug deals, I was trying to put an end to that," Grusling replied, his voice quaking.

"You worked for her," Connor spat in reply.  "You were dealing for her..."

"No, never!" Grusling cried.

"Yes!" Connor shouted.  "Confess now or forever hold your peace!"

"No!  Please, spare me my life, and I will prove it to you," the other man begged.

"No," Connor replied coldly.  "I do not spare the lives of those who lie, cheat and steal to get ahead."  Swiftly he brought the katana down across Grusling's neck.
 

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and Connor cautiously answered.  A woman in her late twenties stood in the doorway, a box in her arms.  "Delivery," she said quietly.

"I didn't order anything," Connor replied suspiciously.

The woman tilted the box upward, revealing the gun she was holding underneath it.  "I believe you did," she said calmly, forcing Connor back into the room.  Once the door was closed, she dropped the box and withdrew a sword from her coat -- Grusling's rapier -- before holstering the gun in her belt.

"My name is Elena Grusling," the woman hissed venomously.  "You killed my husband, and now I will kill you!"  Elena lunged at Connor, but came short of actually striking him.  Still, unbeknownst to her, she now stood between Connor and his own weapon.  Connor wasn't sure what to say; he knew his mistake with Grusling now, but also knew he could never excuse it to this woman.  And a grieving woman made a formidable -- and unpredictable -- adversary.  Connor stepped back as Elena advanced, and all too soon he ran into the wall.  The tip of the rapier brushed against his adam's apple, and Connor swallowed hard.

"You don't want to do this," Connor said quietly, trying to figure out a way to either disarm this woman or get to his own sword to defend himself.  Neither plan seemed viable at the moment.

"I don't?" Elena snorted.  "And why not?"

"Because it's not easy to live with murder hanging over you.  I should know."  Connor winced as the rapier's tip danced along his collarbone, nipping at his flesh.  "I thought your husband was in league with D'Angelo.  That's why I went after him.  I didn't know he was on my side."

"And that's supposed to comfort me?" Elena raged.  "You didn't bother to find out the truth, or to let him prove it to you.  And now he's dead, and I have two children to raise by myself!"

"How old are they?" Connor asked calmly, still focused on the blade aimed at his throat.

"Why do you care?" she fumed, but after a moment she answered him.  "Five and three."

Connor nodded in acknowledgment.  "My son is two."

"Well, now your wife's going to be in my shoes," Elena retorted.

"My wife was killed in a car accident last year," Connor replied quietly.  "So he'll be orphaned.  Again."  Connor could feel the sword tip nick his throat as he swallowed hard again.  "Because of both of them, I've been hunting Immortals who commit crimes against mortals," he continued, watching Elena's face carefully for any sign of relenting.  So far, there was none.  "I thought I could make this a better world for my son."

"That's very...honorable of you," Elena replied a bit sarcastically, retaining her grip on the rapier.

"But obviously I've made some bad judgments," Connor continued.  "Please, Elena, spare my life -- for my son's sake."  When she didn't respond, he added, "I swear, these huntings are over.  I will never hurt another with such a foolish mistake as I've hurt you with this one."

"Reduced to begging?" Elena asked sarcastically.  "Not such a mighty Immortal now, are you?"

Connor shrugged, trying to relax his body despite the anxiety within.  "Kill me, if you think you must.  But if they trace my death to you, you'll be ruining your children's lives by going to jail.  And regardless, for the rest of your life you'll have to live with the knowledge that you murdered someone."  He looked straight into her eyes.  "Vengeance is not as sweet as you might think."

Elena frowned hard, but lowered the blade a few inches.  "I can't do that to my sons.  Or to yours."  Her face remained stoic.  "Doesn't mean I don't hate you for what you've done, though."

"I know."  Connor took a deep breath, relieved not to be under the blade anymore.  "That's something I'll have to live with the rest of my life."  He smirked, opening his arms wide.  "If it makes you feel any better, you can run me through with the sword."

Elena snorted a laugh.  "Wouldn't be any more satisfying than killing you."  She lowered the rapier's point to the ground, then sat down on the bed with a sigh.  "Nothing will bring Robert back," she added, closing her eyes.

"I know."  Connor hesitantly sat down next to her.  "If there's anything I can do for you...if you need money..."

"No, we've got enough.  I don't want your money, anyway.  I thought I wanted you dead, but I don't really want that either."  Elena shook her head.  "I just want you out of Montreal and out of my family's lives.  And I want you to keep your promise."  Elena looked into his face.  "Defend yourself honestly, but don't hunt others unless you know for certain who they are and what they've done.  Don't devastate anyone else's life."

"I won't," Connor promised solemnly.
 

A knock on the door snapped Connor from his painful reverie.  "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Beaton, but the framing is ready for inspection," the head contractor told him.

Connor waved him off.  "I'll be right there."  Heaving a heavy sigh, Connor lifted himself to his feet and walked out toward the new addition -- which would soon house, among other things, the rapier Elena Grusling had given him so she would be rid of it.