Disclaimers are in part one.
Rated:  R for m/f/m relationships, and strongly implied sex.  Have a good time, folks!

Crystalline Patterns, Pt. 3
 

* * * *

Aidan stretched luxuriously, which drew a swat from Methos.  "Hold still, Edana, or I'll coil your hair into knots you'll never undo."

"Sorry, Magister," she said, sounding completely unrepentant.  "Shoulders are stiff."

"Too much shopping?"

Grey eyes rolled in merry counterpoint to her derision as Aidan chuckled, "No, too much carrying.  Amanda kept buying things for Tracy."

"And has your young officer figured out yet that Amanda is a thief?"

"I don't think she realizes how much of it Amanda picked up, no.  And she's not mine, quite.  She's not in the Game yet."  Aidan wiggled impatiently on the stool and Methos swatted her on the ass.

"I said quit that.  I'm almost done, but it's a great deal of hair to coil up, remember?"

His one-time student passed him another sapphire-tipped hair pin.  "I remember.  I've done this myself, more than once.  Truly, thank you."

"No, she's not in yet, but you're thinking about training her, aren't you?"

"I don't think so, Magister.  I keep thinking I've a student coming soon, but I've been dreaming of teaching someone French, and Trace already speaks it.  Besides, in the dreams I'm addressing someone male."

Methos smiled slightly and secured another curl.  "Well, that certainly isn't Tracy."

Connor stuck his head in the door, then whistled softly and walked in.  "Very nice, sister, very nice indeed."

Methos chuckled, suspecting the Highlander was enjoying the sight of Aidan clothed only in jewelry and make-up rather than the hair style he had been working on for the last forty-five minutes.  The dark mass was arranged in an upswept pile of braids and pinned curls, with one lock deliberately left hanging behind her ear to entice attention to her neck.  Much more fun to study the naked woman perched on a bench in front of the vanity mirror; she looked like a Degas study.  'Woman at her toilette?'  'Preparations for a ball?'

Aidan started to tilt her head to study him, only to hear Methos growl.  She settled for studying Connor from head to toe and back again.  Classic black tuxedo with a vest in his own MacLeod tartan variant, established centuries ago for him by the Clan Chief who'd been unable to prevent his exile, and a wickedly familiar pair of onyx and pearl cufflinks.  The Irishwoman stared at those, then groaned.  "Oh, Gods, Connor, how'd you win those off Kit?"

Connor shrugged innocently, knowing exactly what she meant.  "Would you believe he was foolish enough to wager them?"

"Oh, and how often has he tried to win them back?"

"Once or twice, I suspect.  Edana, give me that last...."  Methos placed the last pin and said thoughtfully, "All right, see if you can shake it loose."

Aidan shook her head carefully, then more emphatically, but no pins hit the floor and the hair stayed up.  "Not in the least.  Thank you, muirnin.  Will you pass me the dress?"

"Reduced to a lady's maid, Methos?" Connor chuckled.  "But don't you need to put on a few things first, sister?"

Methos smirked at him.  "Pleasant enough profession, youngster.  See lovely ladies in dishabille, get paid to enhance it, get to listen to all the gossip later when you're taking their hair back down and thus mark your blackmail prospects....  As I said, a nice job.  And you haven't seen her dress, have you?"

Aidan stepped into the waist carefully, then smoothed fabric up her chest and slid her arms into the sleeves.  Midnight blue silk clung lovingly from hip to torso, running up to a straight neckline along her collarbones emphasized by jet beading and a veiling of semi-transparent chiffon.  The sleeves apparently hung from the outmost points of her shoulders, open along the upper arms to just above the elbow, again outlined with chiffon and beading along both the slashed upper arms and on the pointed cuffs which extended out over her wrists onto the backs of her hands.

Connor could see why she wasn't wearing a conventional bra; the straps would have shown immediately.  Then his sister turned and his eyes widened appreciatively.  The back... wasn't.  Beaded chiffon spilled down from the points of her shoulders to the very base of her spine, quivering along her sides, barely covering the curves of her ass, and he had no idea why the dress wasn't falling off her with each movement.  There was no room under that open back for bra, or panties, or garter belt; even if they wouldn't have been outlined by the silk they'd have shown against that exposed skin.  Sapphire and diamond earrings glittered against pale skin, more sapphires glinted in dark hair, and for once she'd used makeup, darkening and emphasizing grey eyes.

The Highlander's bemusement made him the target of Methos' glee.  "Something wrong, youngster?"

Connor shook himself mentally, and answered with a forced casualness, "Not a thing, o venerable one.  Just admiring the scenery.  It's lovely, sister.  Truly.  Is the old man, here, carrying the large stick, or my kinsmen?  To beat the suitors off," he offered in explanation.

Aidan turned and smiled at him.  "It gets worse, Connor.  I'll show you the full effect, then I need to go check the wreaths and mistletoe for Rachel."

"It gets worse?"  She stepped into four inch heels, subtly changing her posture, and the Highlander whistled admiringly.  "Aye, I suppose you could call that worse.  Dani would have loved it; she liked it when you towered."

Aidan's expressive face altered, going still, then she said softly, "Yes, she did.  I'm off to help Rachel," she said in a determinedly cheerful voice.  "Help Dhonnchaidh get this one into his tux, would you?"  She breezed out the door quickly, before Methos could ask what that had been about.

Connor looked at his old drinking companion from Boston and said thoughtfully, "I suppose you could wear that, but she's right.  You'll be hideously underdressed."

Methos contemplated his favorite, beat-up, faded, softened, perfectly-broken-in jeans and the flannel shirt of Mac's that he'd stolen, washed and rewashed until it was soft as either lover's touch.  With a completely straight face he asked, "What's the problem?"

"If you don't mind standing out in an entire room with fifty some immortals invited?  Nothing.  I'll see you downstairs, Adam."  Connor chuckled on his way out.  That one would no more be conspicuous at a gathering of immortals than a vampire would willingly walk into sunlight.  But he had to wonder what his kinsman had done to Methos' tuxedo that getting the old man into it was this much of a chore.  When he passed Duncan in the hall, Connor mentioned, "He's all yours, kinsman.  You had to take up with a mule-headed immortal, didn't you?"

Thus warned, Duncan wasn't surprised to see Methos sprawled in an overstuffed chair, legs flopped over an arm of the furniture, still wearing the work clothes he'd pulled on for the morning's last minute preparations.  Without looking up, the older immortal asked, "Joining the ranks of penguins, MacLeod?"

"Not really," Duncan said in amusement.  "I don't recall any penguins with this coloring."

"Not bad at all," Methos admitted grudgingly.  "For a tuxedo."  His lover had managed to get hold of a pigeon's blood red cummerbund, brocaded in subtle touches of black and gold, which added just the right hint of restrained elegance to the younger Highlander's already impressive dark good looks.  Then he noticed the ruby earring in one ear and curiosity compelled him to ask, "Who gave you that?"

"Christmas present from Gina and Robert one year.  Fitz had the mate to it; a thank-you for standing up at their 200th anniversary.  Are you getting dressed or skipping the party?"

"Thought I might stay in and read," Methos said casually.

"All right," Mac said amiably.  "I'm going to be a bit busy helping Connor, but I'm sure Aidan can take care of herself."

"Meaning what, Highlander?" Methos asked suspiciously when Duncan said nothing else.

"Not a thing, old man.  The fact that LaCroix should be here in the next half-hour is completely irrelevant.  Aidan doesn't need moral support against her old patron."

"Cheap shot, Highlander.  I am not wearing a penguin suit."

Duncan shrugged.  "Your choice.  I figured you'd be torn between standing out and wearing stark black and white, so I got you this for a compromise."

Methos turned in the chair to see what this suitable 'accommodation' was, and cringed.  "My God, MacLeod, that looks like a cast-off from the Broadway revival of La Cage aux Folles!  What did you do, mug Nathan Lane?"  The cummerbund was not just pale blue -- baby blue -- it managed to be ruffled.

"What is it with you and black and white?  What's wrong with grey?"

"Well, if you prefer," Mac said amiably and pointed to the tux he'd hung on the closet before Methos turned around.  Both pants and long jacket were rich black shantung silk, and the coat fell to knee length with a single button closure.  The shirt was white with a soft, high collar and no tie; the vest was intricately textured charcoal grey and silver.

"Where did you get this... abomination?"  Methos growled, throwing the baby blue fabric back at his lover.

"What is it you keep saying?  You're always in favor of options?  That's your option."

"I could stay up here...."

Duncan just gave him a disgusted look.  "And miss knowing who was downstairs?  You'd go crazy.  Besides, Methos," and the Scot played his best trump card, "do you really want Gina to have to come looking for you?"

Methos' lips twitched.  "I'll get dressed."

* * * *

Aidan smiled at Joe's wolf-whistle of appreciation and told him, "You'd best have done that for Rachel, too."

"He did," Rachel answered happily.  "You know, as much work as this party is, this is the part I like best.  The last few moments before the guests descend, when everything is completed and still perfect.  Who did your hair?"

"Adam did.  He'll be down in a few minutes, Joe," she added before the Watcher had to ask.  "However, I've a favor to ask of you both.  May I give you part of your gifts early?"

Sol smiled at her.  He'd shown up early, as always, to check things off for Rachel and reassure her that yes, the decorations were perfect.  "Of course, my dear.  Tomorrow is Solstice, I would be more surprised if you didn't."

"Actually, tonight is," Aidan said gently.  "The Celts counted time like the Jews, Sol, from sunset to sunset.  This is for you."  She handed him a small, gaily wrapped present, then gave similar packages to both Joe and Rachel.

The bluesman tore into his, rolling the paper up and tossing it into the wastebasket for a perfect three-pointer.  When he opened the box, the contents surprised him.  An intricately worked gold Celtic cross on a chain lay on velvet.  "Aidan, that's gorgeous."

"Here, then.  A gift for the season," she said quietly, and fastened it around his neck, pleased with the effect of the gold on Joe's tan and amused that the Watcher had shown up in a string-tie despite his otherwise conventional tux.  A bluesman to the end, thank the Gods.

Rachel and Sol were examining Solomon's Seal pendants wrought in white and yellow gold, hers on a slender box chain, his on a thicker link.  "My dear," Sol said bemused, "it's lovely, but why?"

"Good luck," she shrugged casually.  Rachel gaped for a moment and Aidan chuckled, "Trust me, Rachel, the dress won't fall off for a simple shrug.  Despite what it looks like."

"That came very close, Aidan."  Rachel looked at her own dress consideringly.  "The neckline isn't right for a pendant, I'm afraid."

"Tuck it under then," the immortal woman suggested, and fastened the necklace on.  "But you're right," she added regretfully.  "It just won't work with the brocade on this jacket."

"I was thinking more that it's just a little too short and won't stay out on the top," Rachel answered.  "But it's lovely, and this way I won't lose it.  Thank you, dear.  I'm going to go see if Connor's ready."  She strode off, with the lights reflecting off the subtle sheen of her outfit's jade green silk.

Joe had just finished fastening Sol's for him, and Aidan smiled and adjusted the pendant to lie just under the other man's collar.  Joe nodded approval, saying, "Yeah, I can just see tangling that with the bow tie."  I want this out in the open.  What the hell, Sol's got a strong heart.  "All right, darlin', you that worried about LaCroix?"

"Why take chances?" Aidan shrugged.

Sol tilted his head inquiringly.  "So, my dear, why do we all need holy symbols?  You had asked if I could wait to know of your friend, LaCroix.  Do you still need me to wait?"

"Better if you do," Aidan said frankly.  "But I suspect you've figured it out, old friend.  Yes, he's a vampire, and not the only one here.  But while I trust two of them to behave properly, but I'm never quite sure what Lucius will do."

"You trust even two of them, my dear?  From the literature, they have a reputation for being... self-centered, perhaps.  Do they consider themselves to be responsible to mortal standards?"

Joe chimed in, "Some of 'em, Sol.  You can trust Knight.  He's a homicide detective from Canada.  Good man.  He and MacLeod are gonna be good friends, I think, both of 'em honorable to a fault."

"Connor or Duncan?" Sol asked.

"Duncan, mainly, but he and Connor were gettin' along pretty well at the poker game, too."

"As for Vachon, he'd rather flirt with the ladies -- and it'd be flirting, too," Joe continued.

Aidan giggled at the thought of the young pre-immortal's reaction to finding Vachon with his mouth on someone else's throat.  "He had best stick to friendly flirting, else Tracy will yank him up on a leash.  She'll not kill him if she shoots him and she knows it, but it will hurt, and she knows that, too.  But yes, Vachon would rather have his dinner from a young and agreeable companion.  Lucius, however, is not as concerned with consent."

"They likely to look for dinner here?" Joe asked in concern.

"Nick brought his own supplies," she answered quietly.  "Vachon might, or Lucius.  They consider immortal blood... exquisite.  Vintage wine, so to speak.  However, Constantine and I have agreed to feed the both of them while they're in town, so with any luck it won't be a problem."

Sol's eyes widened slightly.  "My dear, was that wise?"

She shrugged slightly.  "Done's done, Sol.  Both have tasted my blood before.  Besides, I'll let Constantine handle Lucius; they've been arguing since Lucius was mortal, and Gods know that's long enough ago."

"How long?" Joe asked in great interest.

The doorbell rang and Aidan groaned.  "Showtime, gentlemen.  But Joe?  He became a vampire during the destruction of Herculaneum."

"Goddammit, doesn't she know any young immortals?"  Joe growled as she headed toward the door, almost too distracted to notice the back of her dress.  Behind him, Sol raised a hand to conceal his smile, although he sympathized completely with his younger counterpart.

~ ~ ~

The immortal waiting in the front foyer eyed the door closely, feeling one of their own approaching.  Connor saw Damiano first and grinned when he saw the lovely lady tucked protectively under the big man's arm.  Then he got a better look and had to conceal a flinch.  Mother of God, she looks like Dani.  Oh, sister....  Out loud, he said cheerfully, "Damiano, it's about time you showed up again.  Stealing the good women again?"

"Bite your tongue, Nash, she's one of the minions of the law," Damien replied in an equally jovial voice.

Connor looked at the tiny blond in a deep rose-velvet dress, gold curls trying to escape a Gibson girl bun, her green eyes spitting intelligence and momentary, mock indignation, and flinched inwardly again. At least her eyes are green, not blue, and she's shorter.  The face is more oval than Dani's as well.  But, the color and cut of the dress are very much something Dani would have worn, and the energy off this one....  Oh, Aidan, this is going to hurt.  Then she spoke and some of his worries diminished.

"Mr. Nash, I'm Sylvana Storm.  Thank you for the invitation to your party."

Her Deep South accent and husky voice sounded nothing like Danielle St. Vir's clipped Pennsylvania Dutch tones, and Connor almost sighed in relief.  "Ms. Storm, you're more than welcome, although if you get tired of the lug here," and Damien gave him a sardonic look, "let me know and I'll introduce you around.  Damien, when she gets down, Aidan's looking for you."

"I just got here," the redheaded immortal pointed out calmly.  "I can't be in trouble yet."

"That's a matter of opinion.  Who's Aidan?" Stormy asked in the dulcet, Southern belle tones that meant Damien might yet be in for an argument from hell later.

Damien missed the apologetic look from Connor as he turned to Stormy and answered, "Do you remember I mentioned one of my teachers, Edana?  That's Aidan."

"Uh-huh."

She sounded distinctly unconvinced, and Damien sighed in resignation.  "Where did you get the idea that I want another fight with you this evening?"

Connor grinned at both of them, enjoying the sight of his old friend cowed by this tiny mortal, and said, "She's not an old girlfriend if that's what you're worried about, Ms. Storm."

"Make it Stormy," she said absently.

Damien murmured quietly, "Thanks, Connor."

"Amanda will be here later, though."  The older Highlander chuckled, thinking more about Amanda's reaction to this young woman than Aidan's.  Oh, this will be entertaining.

~ ~ ~

Aidan finished fastening the cross around Rich's throat, over his protests.  "Hey, look, Aidan, it was kind of a shock finding out about Nick and Vachon, but do I really need this?  I mean, they can't kill me permanently," he whispered.

"I'm not worried about them," she said bluntly.  "I don't want Lucius checking out the new vintage, so to speak."  Rich cringed minutely and the Irish immortal gently said, "Once I get him off to one side and let him feed, I can quit worrying.  But I want you and some of the others protected."

"Why me?  The mortals, sure.  But you're not worried about the other guys.  Is it just that I'm the youngest?"

She tilted her head, studying him, then answered gently, "Rich, to a vampire, Dhonnchaidh is permeated with my scent.  They know I'll avenge my lover.  And this is Connor's house; they'll not touch him.  Marcus and Methos have dealt with them before, and I'm not worried for them.  But you, acushla, have neither experience nor my bed to guard you... and being an involuntary meal might stir unpleasant memories for you.  Will you let me ward you?"

The young redhead tensed, face going blank as he fought down memories of rape, and Aidan touched his cheek gently.  "Rich?"

"Yeah, I'm all right.  Thanks," he answered, tapping his cross.  "You said involuntary.  What's the difference?"

Aidan's mouth quirked, and she colored slightly, saying, "With a vampire who wants you to enjoy it?  If you aren't fighting them, it can be... exquisitely pleasurable.  A quickening without the need to fight off the other mind in your own, the energy rush without the external lightning.  Addictive, nearly.  Don't tell them that, though.  LaCroix doesn't need that ammunition."

"Too bad the vampires here are all guys, then," he said in mock annoyance.  "Sorry, I'm just not ready to expand my horizons that much, yet."

"Oh, it frequently goes from dinner to... sport, you're quite right.  I'll have to introduce you to Janette, sometime, though," Aidan chuckled.  "She's exquisite to look at, and I think she'd like you."

"Oh, she has good taste," Rich laughed.  "All right, get out of here, Aidan.  Mac and Methos have got to be on their way up.  Killer dress, by the way, worth every minute of rooting around in your storage room.  Have the guys seen it yet?"

"Methos has," she grinned.  "I'll go show Dhonnchaidh and get them both up here.  But I like your outfit as well.  Have they seen it yet?"

Rich grinned down at his own reverse tux, seeing the red cummerbund flash against black shirt and white jacket.  "Hey how else am I going to get the ladies to notice me?  Have you seen some of my competition?  Mac?  Nick?  Both of them, that is.  Hell, Javier, if Tracy turns around too long."

"I'm sure you'll manage," she chuckled.  "Try to save me one dance, hmmm?"

~ ~ ~

"We're not running late," Methos groused.  "What's your hurry, MacLeod?"

"I still haven't seen this dress Rachel mentioned.  I want to see what Aidan pulled off this time," the younger Highlander answered.  "Besides, a lot of the people coming to this party are friends of mine and I'd like to see them sometime before 9:30, if that's all right with you?" he asked sarcastically.

"Quit fidgeting, MacLeod," Methos said calmly, taking his revenge for being hurried.  "You'd think in four hundred years that you'd have learned to tie one of these."  The older man took his own sweet time perfecting the knot on Duncan's bow tie, carefully keeping the smirk off his lips.  When he'd drawn it out as long as he thought advisable, though, Methos pulled his lover down into a slow, thorough kiss to improve his mood for the party.  "Now you look perfect.  Almost kissable."

"Almost?" the Highlander chuckled.  "I'll keep that in mind."  They climbed the steps to ballroom, and Duncan shook his head.  "Everyone's coming on time for once, this year.  Amazing.  Now, where's...."  He turned, looking for their lover, and finally saw her walking toward them, away from Rich.  "She was right," he told Methos, "the dress is lovely.  But does she have anything under that?"

"You'll see," came the murmured reply.

Aidan leaned in and kissed Duncan gently.  "For once I don't have to stand on tiptoe to do that."

"You're already on tiptoe," the Highlander grinned.  "Four inch heels?  Good thing you can't sprain your ankles."

"Well it wouldn't last," she agreed, then turned slightly to study Methos.  "Gods, Magister, you look splendid.  Dhonnchaidh, why do I see your hand in this?"

Both of them studied the older man, admiring the way the long coat accented both the length of his legs and the breadth of his shoulders.  Methos meanwhile said sweetly, "We'd have been here sooner, but I had to keep batting his hands away."

"Who was it who kept fiddling with my tie?" Duncan asked in amusement.  "Slanderer."

"I was merely admiring your intact throat, Highlander, and marveling.  Not a single challenge in a month.  Losing your touch?"

"Connor would just claim seniority," Duncan answered with a shrug.  "So I turned off the evil immortal beacon.  Come on, oh venerable one, let's see if Gina and Robert are here."

"Venerable?"  Aidan asked in amusement, seeing Methos' annoyance.

"Connor said it was the correct form of address," Duncan answered with an innocent look.  "Wouldn't want you to think I don't respect you anymore, Ad--"  The younger Scot broke off in mid-name as Aidan turned to head back to the party with them.  "Aidan, stop," he said softly.

"What?" she asked innocently, turning half-way toward him.  "Something wrong, Dhonnchaidh?"

"Is that dress legal?"

Methos snickered.  "Everything that has to be covered is covered, Highlander, and a bit more besides.  I'm just waiting to see if it falls off."

"It's spray painted on," Duncan said admiringly.  "Will it fall off, alanna?"

"Miracles of engineering, muirnin.  Don't worry so."  Behind her she felt an immortal approach and asked them softly, "Who's coming?"

"Damien, and a lovely blonde," Methos said casually.  "Tiny little thing."

"Oh, good," Aidan said.  "I want to meet this one.  I've a bottle of Calvados promised to the Gods if he finally found a lady."

"Instead of the females he usually finds?" Duncan asked in amusement.

"Oh, you've met some of his girlfriends?" she asked, chuckling.

"I've had that pleasure, yes.  At his age, you'd think--"

"Magistra, how are you?"

Aidan turned, well aware that her dress wouldn't startle this student, and said cheerfully, "Damien, it's good to...."  Her voice fell away as she saw the blond with him.  "Oh, Goddess."  Deliberately, she shut down her emotions for the second time that week and forced calm into her voice.  "It's good to see you, old friend.  Who's this?"

"Aidan Logan, I'd like you to meet Sylvana Storm.  Stormy, this is my old teacher, Edana."

Dark brown eyes widened slightly at that, and Stormy studied the slender immortal.  Whatever preconceptions she might have had about Damiano's teacher, she had not expected this tall, striking woman to have taught a burly bruiser like Damien to fight.

Dammit all to hell, Appesard, I think I may be  jealous.  Taller than I ever hoped to be, and all that hair which will behave, unlike mine, and immortal to boot.  And she's older than Damien if she taught him.  On the other hand, she's got two gorgeous men there, so she's not after Damiano.  Why do I upset her?  She looked like I was a ghost.  You know, I bet at her age, everyone reminds you of someone.  I wonder who I look like?

"Sorry, Magistra," Damien said in Italian.  "I had to tell her, she saw me die."

Aidan nodded.  "It happens," she answered in the same language.  "Does she know about anyone else?"

"No one in specific, although she knows there'll be other immortals here.  She also knows there's a truce and not to worry until day after tomorrow."

"Good."  Switching to English, Aidan continued, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Stormy, but will you please excuse me?  I need to take care of something for Russell."  The Irish immortal escaped before Duncan could catch her arm, grateful that the Highlander was too polite to leave before introductions had been made.

Stormy, however, saw the concerned look on Duncan's face and said quickly, "What are you waiting for?  Go after her, whoever you are.  Get."

The Highlander glanced quickly between Damien and Methos.  The oldest immortal sized Stormy up, approving of Damien's taste in ladies for the first time in decades.  Then he nodded his thanks to her and wrapped an arm around Duncan's waist.  "Come on, MacLeod, let's find out what's wrong."

Damien watched them leave, startled to see Duncan that intimate with another man and more than a bit concerned about his teacher, who had drilled proper manners into him.  "What was that about?"

"I've got no idea," Stormy said bluntly.  "Damn, Appesard, I've heard the good-looking men are all gay, taken, or dead.  Do they qualify for all three?"

He snorted in amusement, then said, "Matthew?  Who knows.  He's an old friend of Aidan's.  As for MacLeod, I would have said they don't get much straighter.  I have no idea what's going on.  Oh, the one with the ponytail is Duncan MacLeod.  The other man is Matthew Adams, or he was the last time I saw him."

"Which was?" she asked.

"Oh, let's see, that was... 1942, in England.  He was working as a cryptographer and I had to hand-deliver some captured dispatches."

"Ah'm sorry Ah asked," Stormy drawled, aware that several years in the South had yet to immunize him to a sweet, drawn-out accent.  "Damiano, Ah have to ask," she said quietly.  "Why did your friend look like she'd seen a ghost?"

"I have no...."  He froze, looking more closely at Stormy.  "Oh, shit.  Yes, I do.  I attended the lady's funeral seven years ago.  Come on, let's get some wine and I'll tell you about Dani St. Vir."

~ ~ ~

When they caught up to Aidan, she was standing near the door to the foyer, a tall glass in her hands.  Duncan stopped a few steps away, trying to read her body language since she was shutting her emotions out of her signature.  Methos, however, walked up and took the glass from her, looking at the clear, iced liquid.  Unable to smell anything, he shrugged minutely and took a sip over her protests.  He handed her the glass back, one eyebrow raised.  "Straight vodka.  I don't think I'm going to leave this one alone, Edana.  What's wrong?"

She swallowed and shook her head, silent and agitated.

Duncan stood between her and the rest of the Christmas party-goers, blocking both their view and her exit.  "Aidan, talk to us.  What's wrong?"

"I just...."  Her shoulders slumped down from their tensed position and she looked down at Duncan's shoes, forgetting that the upswept style wouldn't let her hair hide her face.  One hand wrapped inside the other and held against her mouth, she took a deep breath, then another, knowing she couldn't hide her upset from these two.  The three of them had shared too much for that.  She stepped forward into Duncan's embrace and Methos wrapped his arms around her from behind.  They stood that way for a moment, a small knot of quiet in the middle of the party.

That stillness drew Connor's eyes where he stood by the door into the foyer.  He couldn't help smiling when he saw the embrace.  About damn time Aidan loved someone again, and Duncan finally seemed to have recovered from Tessa's death.  As he watched, Duncan ran one hand caressingly along Robert's forearm where the two of them were intertwined around Aidan.  Who'd have thought his cousin would get involved with a man?  But seeing Duncan that happy was enough explanation for Connor.

When Aidan obviously wasn't going to come out with more words, Methos dropped an arm down to her waist and tugged.  "Come on, there's got to be a room somewhere around here that doesn't have half a hundred people trying to become intoxicated, and you are going to talk to us."

Duncan moved to her other side and the three of them moved off through the growing crowd.  Aidan briefly considered escape, but realized she'd never make it and she'd have to abandon too much to elude them.  Duncan found Connor and indicated the lower, private portion of the building with his chin, then tilted his head to ask permission.

Connor raised one eyebrow, scanned his sister's face, his kinsman's body language, and nodded.  I'd say she saw Stormy.  I'm sorry, sister, I couldn't find anyone to warn you.  At least Duncan and Robert would take care of her through this.

Within thirty seconds they were out of the noise.  In another minute they were down in their own bedroom.

Methos sat Aidan in a chair, careful as if she were spun glass, and said calmly, "Duncan, lock the door.  I don't want interruptions, and I don't want her leaving."

"Bit extreme, isn't that, Methos?"

"No, not really."  He watched her out of green-gold eyes.  "It'll hurt less after you tell us.  Talk."

Aidan leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, cupped hands holding her forehead up and wrists obscuring much of her face.  "Going to bully me until I do?"

"If I have to.  Who does Stormy remind you of, Edana?"

"Oh, Goddess, Methos!"  Her wail tore straight out of her gut and she looked up despite herself.  "Don't do this to me!"

"This should have been lanced ages ago, and we're going to take care of it now -- before LaCroix gets here.  What happened?"  He watched as Duncan sat on one arm of her chair and braced her back.  The younger man wasn't going to interfere, he realized.  Good.  Duncan raised one dark eyebrow at him, obviously concerned, but said nothing.

Aidan tucked her head back against her hands, bowed over herself as if in prayer.  All too aware that Methos didn't drop things like this once he had started, she gave in and spoke, a monotone sound that drew the lines of worry even deeper in Duncan's face.

"I met someone at one of Connor's parties."  She sniffed, not wanting to talk, then went on.  "You know how sometimes you see them... and it's like there nothing else you can do?  You have to love them, there simply is never another option."

Methos said quietly, "Yes, I know.  What happened?"

Aidan laughed quietly, no mirth in it.  Her hands rubbed restlessly at her hairline and her temples, unable to hold still.  "We fell in love.  Talked on the phone a lot, spent weekends together any time we could and a few times we shouldn't have.  She lived here, you see, and I was tied to Syracuse."  She rubbed her thumbs against her intertwined fingers, still not looking at either of them.  Duncan never blinked at the female pronoun; he'd known for a while that Aidan liked women and men both.  Methos had already set his face into an impartial mask.

After a few seconds, Methos prompted, "How long?"  His voice was unusually gentle and carefully neutral.

"Sixteen months.  Not long enough.  It's never long enough," she whispered.

Methos flinched at that, and Duncan's dark eyes extended his sympathy across Aidan's piled hair, knowing what memory that had just triggered.

Aidan straightened, warned by Duncan's tension.  "What did I say?  Methos?"

"Later.  What happened, Edana?  Tell me."

"We were both here for the next party.  Dani told me she had a one-man show coming up for an art gallery, that she couldn't come visit for the next few months, she was going to be busy getting ready.  I could understand that, I knew how long tapestries took, I've made the damn things.  Never could understand how she enjoyed doing them."  She paused, trying to organize thoughts.

"While she was getting ready for the show, she ran herself into the ground as she always did, but this time it was a little worse than usual.  We had talked at Christmas about going on vacation when the show was over, we hadn't been out of New York since we'd been together.  Maybe go to Italy, somewhere in Europe.  So Dani went to a doctor, figured they'd just tell her she was run down and that would be that.  Maybe get told to watch her iron, that she was anemic."

Aidan swallowed again, still looking down determinedly.  Methos reached across and wrapped his hands around hers.  "She was in full-blown AIDS, hadn't even known she was HIV-positive."  Eyes squinted shut, trying to block away memories that weren't going to allow it, Aidan held onto Methos' hands tightly.  She pressed back against Duncan's chest as well, taking her strength from both of them.

Taking a breath, then letting it out again, she continued, "Dani didn't tell me.  She didn't tell Connor.  She went on with her show," another deep breath, "and made some decisions.  I came in the day after the show to spend a week up here.  Got blindsided by the fight she picked.  I didn't know what was going on.  All those years of experience and I'd never seen it coming.  No surprise looking back on it.  But it was... bad.  The worst break-up fight I'd ever been in.  It... hurt."

She paused for a moment, then went on.  "I was stupid.  I thought... I thought give it some time, give her some time.  I decided to come back in a year or so, I knew we weren't going to be lovers again, but maybe we could be friends.

"Ten months later I got a call from a lawyer, would I please come to NYC?  When Connor and I got there he told us that she was dead.  Her body had already been cremated.  She had set up the will so that Connor or I or both would be executors."

Duncan asked quietly, "But why?  Why fight you off and then make you executor?"

"Because, Dhonnchaidh, she decided I was too young to watch her die.  She wasn't going to do that to me, not let me scar the rest of my life with those memories."  Aidan chuckled again, that same hurting sound.  "I was going to tell her about immortality at Christmas, you see.  I wanted her to know, didn't want her unprepared when someone challenged me.  But she didn't want to talk about anything important just then, her mind was already in that show.  And I agreed.  Oh, I told her we'd have to discuss it before we went on vacation."

Methos tightened his grip on her hands, matching her steadily increasing pressure.  Aidan's voice became more hoarse with every word as she fought back the tears to talk.  "I thought I had time.  She died alone and in pain and without telling--"  Her voice broke then Aidan went on, "Because she was trying to protect me.  Protect me from HIV, protect me from remembering her dying slow.

"And I can't believe she's dead.  I mean, I never saw a body.  Never saw her sick.  It's not real.  I buried her ashes and it's still not real.  I keep thinking she'll jump out and surprise me, even now.  Dani's why I quit coming to Connor's parties.  I kept seeing her here, so I....

"She was just so alive, Duncan.  Dani woke up every morning wanting to get going, find something to do, something to look at and say, 'Oh, wow!'  The woman only went to bed when she was too tired to do anything else."  This time the chuckle hurt but it was laughing.

"Well, sometimes when she wasn't tired....  But I didn't tell her.  She died alone because I didn't tell her.  I thought we had time...."

Duncan wrapped an arm around her and squeezed.  "No, love.  She died alone because it was what she chose.  And she died thinking she had protected you."

That broke Aidan's control at last.  Methos pulled her in against his shoulder as she started crying.  He saw Duncan stand up from the chair arm, then the Scot scooped her up and settled her onto his lap.  Methos pulled his chair closer and let her settle back against him.  Safe between her two lovers, Aidan finally let herself cry out all the pain and misery, all the might-have-been's and should-have's that had torn at her for so long.

When she wound down, red-eyed, red-nosed and hoarse from sobbing, Duncan lifted her into Methos lap, to the surprise of both of them.  But Methos chuckled and said, "It's a good thing you don't wear much make-up.  You, love, are a mess."

Duncan came back with a wet washcloth and some tissue.  "Here, blow your nose, and then let's get you cleaned up."

The noise she made clearing her sinuses had all three of them chuckling.  Duncan began to clean off her face, watching the redness fade rapidly as immortal healing kicked in.  Methos carefully replaced a jeweled pin, then pronounced her hair intact.  "Which is a miracle itself."

Aidan sat up carefully and uncurled herself from his lap.  "I suppose I should touch up my lipstick and mascara.  Damn, I'd forgotten how difficult it is to sit in these dresses."

Duncan laid his hand on her bared back.  "No, don't move yet."  He looked at Methos and said quietly, "Tell her, Methos.  You need to grieve almost as much as Aidan did."

"MacLeod...."  The warning was clear and Duncan ignored it.

"Methos.  Tell her, mo chridh, or I'll do the bullying this time."  Duncan sat down next to him, one hand wrapped around Aidan's, the other arm around Methos' shoulders.  "Tell her about Alexa."

The oldest immortal sighed and replied, "Duncan, most of the grieving is done.  And largely due to you, I might add."

Aidan smiled at him and said lightly, "So tell me.  Who's Alexa?"

The sympathy in her eyes disarmed him.  "I met her at Joe's.  She wasn't small so much as... frail, almost fragile looking.  But vivid.  Very much alive and rooted in the here and now, in the world.  Here she was waiting tables in a blues bar and dreaming of traveling.  She wanted to see Paris, Venice, Athens."

He smiled at the memories and at the feel of their hands soothing him, Aidan rubbing lightly on his neck, Duncan stroking fingers through his hair.  "She never hesitated to snap at me.  Said I was too young to be so cynical."

Aidan laughed quietly at that.  "I like her already."

"You'd have loved her, too.  You always did get along well with my wives, love."

"Did you marry her?"  Duncan asked it curiously, wondering.

"No, she wouldn't allow it.  Stubborn woman.  Too stubborn, sometimes.  She held onto life as hard as she could, and it wasn't enough. "  He sighed and leaned into Duncan's caress.  "She's buried in Paris so that I can visit her occasionally.  I think she would have preferred Mykonos, but that's so far...."

Duncan said quietly, "She's in good company.  Tessa's there, too."

Aidan laughed despite herself.  "Gods, we are a set, aren't we?  Dani's buried with Heather, Connor's wife.  I thought they'd like each other, and I didn't want her family to be able to find the grave site."

Duncan stared at her.  "You what?"

"Her family disowned her, Dhonnchaidh, for being my lover.  I didn't want them to disturb her remains in any way, so...."  Aidan shrugged, and continued quietly, "She said she didn't mind being disowned, but I think it hurt.  I don't want them to ever be able to hurt her again, even so little as that."

"Good for you.  Disowned her for taking a female lover in general, or you in particular?"

"Oh, in general; they never met me.  How long did you and Alexa have, Magister?"

Methos smiled at her.  "Six months, almost.  But she knew when we met that she was dying.  And I did get to be with her until the end."  He looked up at Duncan, "This is why I never regretted it, Highlander.  Exactly because of what Aidan went through."

Duncan nodded.  "I know.  I knew when you left with her.  Are you two all right, now?"

Aidan studied Methos as he started appraising her, and they both chuckled.

"We're fine, Duncan.  Come on, let's go back to Connor's party.  Edana, didn't you say there were some people coming we needed to meet?"  Methos waited until Duncan gave her a hand up, then stood up himself.

"Oh, gods, yes.  Damn, Nick will know I've been crying, too.  Oh, well."  Aidan shrugged and said, "Shall we?  I want to show off this dress some more.  Duncan, Methos -- thank you."

"You're welcome, m'chara," Duncan replied.

Methos ran his fingers down her cheek  "Makeup, Edana.  Fool them as best you can, hmm?  You'll worry Connor."

"Not tonight I won't," she answered resolutely.  "Let him enjoy his own party."  Five minutes' quick work repaired the damages, and she turned around to tell Methos, "Quit teasing Duncan, hmm?  Get your hands off the man's throat so we can go back to the party."

"I was just adjusting his tie," Methos said innocently.

"Oh, is that what you call it?" Duncan growled softly, his own hands on his lover's hips where the older man was pressed against him from the waist down.

"Tonight?  Yes.  Shall we?"

When they walked back into the hubbub of the main party, Aidan looked around them, grateful for the extra four inches of height from her heels.  A blur of light hair coming in the door caught her attention and she laughed in delight, her earlier grief dealt with now and shuttered away.  Later she would curl in against one or both of her lovers, but for the moment she gave herself over to joy.  "There they are!  Come on, you two.  Dhonnchaidh, leave LaCroix be, all right?  Believe it or not, he and I are still friends."

Duncan raised an eyebrow at her.  "Love/hate relationship, hmm?  I won't start anything, Aidan."

Nick came in first, blond hair throwing the light back as he scanned the room with a policeman's instinct to know where everything was.  He'd reverted to the styles of an earlier period, wearing what looked like a black velvet evening trench coat and pants, red silk brocaded waist coat, and a white, high-necked shirt with a black satin band in place of a tie.  Red light flashed from the shirt buttons, and Aidan had no doubt the rubies were real.  She knew full well that no one else would be like to believe it.

Tracy came in behind him, and she looked splendid in the gown Aidan had bought for her.  The immortal woman smiled to see that Amanda must have stopped by to work on Tracy's hair and makeup as she'd promised; the younger woman was attracting startled, admiring glances from several quarters as her silver and black gown caught first the light and then the eye.  The deep purple amethysts Vachon had given her as an early Christmas present suited her blond, peaches and cream coloring beautifully, and were too obviously real to be ignored.

Vachon himself had obviously decided to twit the older vampires; he looked like an extra for Interview With the Vampire.  A black waistcoat and pants, white poet's shirt with high neck and ruffled stock and cuffs, and a deep violet crushed velvet vest made him look like an ostentatious noble visiting the Colonies, or a decadent '80s rock musician.  Although to give him credit, the vest matches Tracy's jewelry, Aidan mused.

One light, possessive hand hovered at the small of Tracy's back, partly to mark Vachon's territory and partly for her reassurance.  From the body language, the blond woman knew she could cope at parties but was truly nervous about this.

A few seconds after Tracy and Vachon cleared the door (and Aidan could hear Duncan's soft whistle by her side as he caught sight of Trace), LaCroix stepped in.  She had to admit that his talent for making an entrance had not suffered over the years.  Pale skin, pale hair cropped short, and intense grey eyes stood out in stark relief against the black on black on black of his formal tuxedo.  Even the waistcoat was black trapunto on black velvet, and the silk cravat looked like a shadow settled for a long nap around his neck.

 Aidan moved forward to meet them, kissed Nick on the cheek, hugged Tracy, and allowed Vachon to raise her hand to his mouth for a patently ironic kiss.  When she turned to LaCroix, though, she smiled even more widely and held out both hands to him.  "Lucien."

"My dear."  He caught her hands with his own and pulled her toward him.  Without thought, Aidan tilted her head up to him and LaCroix kissed her slowly and thoroughly, one arm wrapping around her waist onto the bare skin of her back.  The other arm snaked around her shoulders and the hand came to rest at the base of her head, pale fingers threaded carefully into the piled mass of sable hair.

Aidan made a rumbling noise in her throat that could almost be mistaken for a purr as she returned his kiss, her arms wrapped around his waist.  Deliberately she pricked her tongue against his fangs and allowed him to taste blood.  With his arms positioned as they were, she knew there was no evading this until he ended it, so she settled in to enjoy.  Vampiric strength held her against his mouth until he released her and smiled, an ironic twist of his mouth belied by the pleasure in his eyes.

"It has been too long."

Aidan chuckled quietly and switched to idiomatic Latin from the start of the first millennium, knowing full well he remembered his milk tongue.  "What, six months or thereabouts?  Have we scandalized enough people thoroughly enough for you?"

"What is scandal compared to the sweet taste of your mouth?"  He purred it, a dangerous smile on his lips and one arm still deceptively loose around her waist.

"Meat and drink to you, Lucius, in the roil of emotions you hope to produce.  As much your food as anything more sanguine, old friend.  Shall we go and introduce our joint student to some of her prospective teachers?  I have friends she should meet.  Or would you prefer to feed first?"

LaCroix switched back to English.  "Either, my dear."  The slight bow over her hand told Aidan he was at his most dangerous:  well-rested, and intent on mischief.

Behind her Duncan and Methos had both seen the kiss and Methos had promptly wrapped one hand around the Highlander's wrist to restrain him.  He spoke quickly and quietly in Gaelic, knowing Lucien had never bothered to learn such a 'barbarian' tongue.

"Easy, Duncan.  She's been playing politics with them for centuries now.  Edana knows what she's doing."

"You trust him with--"

"Leave be, Duncan.  She sleeps with us now, out of choice.  We can't control who she loves or who she beds."  Methos watched him carefully to see if this was seeping in.

"God, I'm not that much a barbarian. And yes, I know she wants to be with us.  It's just...."

"He's goading us, and it's working.  He scented us on her and wants to see if there are buttons to be pushed.  Take a deep breath, recite a couple of mantras, and let's go meet them all.  Ready?"

Duncan smiled at him and wrapped an arm around his lover's waist for a one-armed hug.  "Ready."

Tracy and Vachon had seen the interplay between LaCroix and Aidan as well.  Vachon gave away nothing other than his usual jaded amusement.  Shock, then surprise had flickered across Tracy's face.  Quickly she pulled on her professional smile, the one that let nothing past it, and leaned in against Vachon. God, it's nice to be able to do this with him openly.  Six months ago I was still worrying Nick would find out I was dating him.  But who knew Aidan was sleeping with LaCroix?  That was not a 'friendly' kiss.  She's braver than I am!

Aidan turned to face the others and reached for Tracy's hand.  "Shall I introduce you to some friends of mine?"

"Sure, let's go."  Vachon replied, already scanning the crowd of partygoers for interesting faces and fun conversations.

"Come along and say hello to your host.  I want to introduce Tracy to several people tonight."  Aidan led them across the room to where both MacLeods waited with Joe and Methos.  Connor had been greeting people for the first half-hour or so; now he had settled into a perch which let him watch the door and most of the party simultaneously.

As Aidan approached with her Toronto friends, Connor raised an eyebrow, then nodded once.  "LaCroix.  I thought that was you I invited."

"I had wondered myself.   You look better than you did the last time I saw you, Hibernian."  LaCroix nodded calmly to Duncan and Methos.  "Gentlemen.  You're a long way from Paris."

Aidan looked back and forth, then commented, "Well, perhaps I don't have as many introductions as I had thought.  However, we will do this anyway."  Waving a hand to indicate the appropriate people, she said, "Russell Nash, allow me to introduce a friend of mine from Toronto.  This is Lucien LaCroix."

Turning back to the vampire, Aidan calmly continued, "And Lucien, I would like you to meet my friend Russell Nash."

Nick meanwhile looked at Joe and said, "By the way, Joe, I've been thinking about something.  Didn't we talk a few months ago?  An investigation into an arson and possible homicide?"

Joe nodded judiciously.  "I wondered last night if that wasn't you.  I never forget a good voice, Detective.  Yeah, we did.  Did you ever solve it?"

Nick and Tracy glanced at each other, then Tracy said, "Some cases you just never get a lead on and we're as short-handed as most of the departments here in the States.  I've got a bad feeling this one may never get solved."  She caught Aidan's eye as she said it and Aidan winked at her.

"Yeah, hard times everywhere," Joe commiserated, concealing his grin.

LaCroix turned his attention from Connor MacLeod, whom he'd met when the swordsman was fighting in Europe during World War II, to Duncan MacLeod.  Grey eyes narrowed for a moment, displeased to see so much of his son's attention elsewhere as the younger vampire enthusiastically greeted the other Scot, Aidan's lover.  This immediate, easy camaraderie between the overly-noble swordsman and his too-human son disturbed LaCroix with its implications that Nick could possibly be encouraged in his dangerous resolve to be mortal again.  Granted, a pre-immortal partner had been an excellent influence on Nicholas' properly predatory instincts, but still.  Later, Lucien resolved.  He would derail this friendship later -- but not much later.

~ ~ ~

Gina de Valicourt returned from the bar, two glasses of champagne in hand, and her husband, Robert, took one from her with a swift kiss to her cheek.  "Thank you, cara.  Do you care to dance or mingle?"

"You promised me the first waltz," Gina reminded him.  "Until they play one, however, let's mingle.  I want to meet this young officer of Aidan's.  She seemed to think we'd be training her."

"I think she just doesn't want another student yet," Robert opined, resting one hand on the small of his wife's back as they worked their way around the room.  "Ah, there's Richard.  Still popular with the ladies, I see."

"Doesn't he look striking?  I like the white and black."

"Shall I remember that for our next formal occasion?"  Robert asked her.

The Italian immortal considered her husband's starkly traditional black and white tuxedo.  "It would certainly suit you, Robert, but you look classically handsome as you are."

"He certainly does," a cheerful female voice agreed.  "Hello, Gina, Robert."

"Kyra!"  Gina hugged her and kissed each cheek, then stepped back a few feet.  "Blue beads?  Really?"

The tall, blond immortal looked at her own outfit, then at Gina's brilliant red satin.  "I like it.  How have you two been?  What is this, 300 years, or 301?"

"301 years in June.  We're both well, Kyra.  I was sorry to hear about your lover."

"So was his killer," the blonde said softly, before she firmly changed the topic.  "So who's here tonight, Robert?"

"Both MacLeods, a friend of Duncan's named Adam Pierson, Duncan's latest student, Rich Ryan, and one of Connor's former students, Fahizah Sarasvati.  Lovely woman," he added approvingly, then caught the slight frown on Gina's face and quickly went on.  "Let's see, Sidra is here, under the name Aidan Logan, and Damien Appesard with his lady."

"I haven't seen Damien in ages," Kyra chuckled.  "Does he still have that temper?"

"Oh, yes," Gina laughed.  "Marcus Constantine is around somewhere, and I believe Amanda is coming.  There's at least one pre-immortal here, a young woman named Tracy, I believe.  Robert and I were going to go meet her.  Care to come along?"

"Oh, certainly," Kyra chuckled.  "I haven't seen enough of Duncan lately."

The two women exchanged wicked smiles which made Robert uneasy.  He vaguely remembered hearing something about the younger MacLeod running into Kyra in the 1640s, but neither the Scot nor the lovely blond would ever say what had happened.  Richelieu's name had come up, with a few disparaging remarks about his men's skill at arms, but both Kyra and Duncan tended to grin, mutter something about claymores, and change the subject.  It looked as though Gina knew more than Robert, and he preferred to keep it that way.

"Shall we, then?"  Robert offered an arm to each, and turned his attention to changing the topic as they looked for their friends.

~ ~ ~

Claudia Jardine stared indignantly at the interloper at her piano.  All right, so it was actually Connor's piano; still, she had been playing for almost an hour before she stood up to stretch her hands and legs and get some fresh air and wine.  And while she was gone, some (Attractive, she reluctantly conceded) man had taken over the piano bench and was performing Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, with a certain technical competency and, oh, all right, great depth of emotion.

The young immortal woman sank down on the edge of  the piano bench and allowed herself the luxury of letting someone else play, just this once.  As the piece drew to its conclusion, the player said quietly, "I'm sorry, were you ready to play again or shall I go on?"

"You're not half bad, Mr. ...?"

"Knight, Nick Knight.  I've heard a couple of your performances, Ms. Jardine.  You're superb.  What are you doing playing piano here?"

"Russell's cousin, Duncan, put me through Juilliard.  Russell invites me to the party every year, and since I'd rather play than make small talk, he puts a piano up here and lets me play."

Nick heard the wistful exhaustion that underlaid her tones and started on a Strauss waltz without thinking about it.  "Long year?"

"You could say that.  Maybe even make that two years," she muttered, brushing a lock of hair out of her face without really thinking about it.

Through the crowd noise, Nick clearly heard Tracy mutter, "Nick, Javier, somebody, get me away from this jerk!"  The vampire glanced around, frowning when he couldn't immediately see his partner.

Claudia asked, "Something wrong?"

"A sneaking suspicion that my friend hasn't made it back because she's been trapped by a conversational guerrilla," Nick answered, listening to Tracy make half-hearted replies to a monologue being conducted by a familiar voice.

"I think you've described several people at this party," Claudia sighed.  "If one more person had asked if I could help them get tickets to something, I would have screamed."

"Well, you would have definitely gotten attention, if not quite what you might have hoped for."

That brought a sudden smile to her face, lightening the young black woman's expression and changing her from attractive to lovely.  "I imagine it would, but I couldn't see frightening Duncan or Russell just because I couldn't cope, you know?"  The concert pianist looked around the party critically, then saw Walter Graham talking to a young woman who showed every sign of wanting to be somewhere else.  "By any chance, would your friend be blond and wearing black and silver?"

"That's Tracy," Nick agreed affably.  "Could you slide in and take this over from me?  I think I'd better go rescue her."

"No need, Duncan just headed that way.  He can rescue anyone from Walter."

"Walter?  Walter Graham?" Nick asked in dismay, finally placing the voice.

"Yeah, you know him?"

"I knew him, yes.  We were involved in the same theater company for a while.  Still doesn't understand the difference between dialogue and monologue, does he?" the vampire muttered, remembering days in the Globe Theater with Shakespeare.

Claudia was still giggling when Duncan and a very relieved blond woman arrived.  "Claudia, how are you?" the Highlander asked, stooping to hug her where she sat on the bench.

"I'm fine, Duncan, really.  You worry too much."

"Better than not enough," he answered grimly.  "Everything's going well, though?"

"Oh, sure.  Any trouble I can't handle, Walter bores to death.  Speaking of boring, Duncan, can we change the subject?  Who's this?"

"Claudia Jardine, this is Tracy Vetter.  Trace, this is Claudia."  Duncan rolled his eyes as his protégé exhibited her usual tact for anything that wasn't music.

"Next time, Knight," and Tracy put his wine glass down, "get your own wine.  Duncan, would your cousin mind if I arrested someone for being a public nuisance?"

"If it's Walter, you might get a medal," Duncan said amiably.  "Of course, I don't think your jurisdiction extends this far.  But it's a nice dream, Tracy."

"This is Walter we're talking about," Nick pointed out. "I'm sure someone on the NYPD would be willing to stretch a point and help out."

"Ah, Chevalier, how are you?"

Duncan sighed and buried his face in his hand for a moment as he gathered strength not to kill Walter.  Nick, fortunately, never lost a beat of the music.  "Fine, Walter, and you?  And it's Knight."

"Of course.  Fine, Nicholas, just fine.  I saw your cousin earlier, and thought you might be here.  Has he ever thought of acting?  He would terrify an audience as a villain, and that voice!" Walter enthused.

"LaCroix has been on a stage once or twice," Nick replied, fighting down a grin.  "And you're quite right, he makes a very effective villain.  He once played a devil in Faust that terrified the audience."

Claudia kept Duncan between herself and Walter as she continued to head for the door.  Walter's company could be maddening as he tried to 'direct' her already flourishing career and all of a sudden she just wasn't in a mood for his company.  To her surprise, a good-looking man, dark-haired and wearing a tuxedo that must have been dreamed up by  a Caribbean pirate, winked at her and said quietly, "Run for it, I'll cover you."  Duncan's student (What's his name?  Oh, yes, Rich), winked and nodded from the pirate's shoulder and Claudia fled gratefully out the door, looking for Connor, who intimidated everyone and understood the need for silence.

It took the arrival of Gina and Kyra, both smiling like fiends ready to play in Faust to cow Walter at last.  Robert watched with an unconcealed grin as his lady terrorized the larger immortal.  "Walter, what are you thinking?  Where is your courtesy?  We have three ladies here, none of us with anything to drink," here Kyra passed Gina's empty glass behind her back to Robert, "and a young woman that I have come from Paris to meet and what do you do?  You monopolize her in hopes of touching off one of your Svengali schemes.  Really, Walter, shame."

Kyra chimed in pleasantly, "Walter, are you still trying to stage-manage accomplished performers?  I thought you got over that notion when you tangled with Shakespeare.  That was you who tangled with him, wasn't it?"

Nick cleared his throat and said mildly, "Does having his manuscripts returned unopened count?"

Tracy turned and stared at her partner, then said softly, "You were there?"

"He was a spear carrier, Ms. Vetter, while I, I was--"

"Unemployed," Duncan cut in with a precision of timing much admired by both police officers.

Walter turned and stared at the younger Scot.  "I will have you know, MacLeod, that I was associated with Will while you were still herding sheep."

"Oh, you mean I had honest employment?  Right, like I said.  Tracy, meet Gina and Robert de Valicourt, good friends of mine and Aidan's."

Tracy turned and smiled at them, relieved and pleased by the rescue.  So these are the 'happily marrieds' as Aidan calls them?  Three hundred years?  I'm impressed.  And she thinks they might be willing to train me?  "I'm very pleased to meet you both."

"And we, you," Robert replied gallantly, bending over her hand and kissing it.  "Aidan has been most complimentary."

"In both directions," Tracy answered.  "Could we possibly talk on the balcony for a while?  I could use some fresh air, I'm afraid."

Kyra smiled at Walter and said pleasantly, "Walter, please, three thirsty ladies...."

He donned his best wounded expression and sighed dramatically, "Oh, all right, I won't stay where I'm not wanted."  Behind him, Duncan bit down on a comment.  "I shall return in a few minutes with your drinks, ladies."  He glared at the three of them and asked in a more biting tone, "Is fifteen minutes long enough, or do I have to stay away half the night?"

Nick chuckled and said, "Oh, I'm sure fifteen minutes should be plenty, Walter.  Duncan, did you want anything while he's going?  Robert?"

Walter left as soon as they both shook their heads, and Duncan grinned at Nick.  "Nicely done.  Does he drive you mad, too?"

"A forensics team could do positive ID on him from the walls," Nick replied dryly.

"Do what?" Kyra asked, as Gina and Robert pulled up chairs for themselves and Tracy.

"Chewing the scenery?" Duncan and Nick asked in chorus, then grinned at each other again.

"Overacting, Kyra, as usual," Gina replied.  "So, was that the hot air you wished to escape, Tracy?"

"Oh, yeah," she sighed, sinking into her chair.  "My feet hurts, my head hurts, and if one more person gives me that surreptitious, sidelong, 'I know something you don't know' look, I may just have to see if I can still hit first soprano when I scream."  She toed her high heels off and checked to see if the toes were permanently deformed from the fashionable footwear.  "Amanda insisted I had to wear these.  I get to wear high-tops at work.  The better to catch the criminals, my dear," Tracy laughed.

Kyra grinned and pulled up a chair.  "I used to fight barefoot, myself.  I'm Kyra.  Aidan's interested in you?"

"Yeah," Nick laughed.  "She's the one who found Trace and is trying to set up teachers for her.  Why?"

"Nice to meet you, sister.  Aidan taught me."

Duncan blinked, then set his drink down.  "Aidan what?"

"Aidan trained me," Kyra replied blithely.  "I was her first student.  We met when I outran her in the Heralaneum."

"The what?" Robert asked.

"The women's games.  They weren't allowed to compete in the Olympics, remember," Methos answered as he handed Duncan a drink.  "Interesting discussion, how'd this come up?"

"It's where I met Aidan," Kyra laughed.  "I won."

"Sparta usually did," Methos said dryly.

Duncan shook his head and asked Methos, "So how many students has Aidan trained?"

"Overall or still living?" Kyra interrupted.

"Either."

"Hmm.  Still living?  Let's see, me, Mandisa, Navarro, Damien ought to count, Terrence...."

"Terrence Coventry?"

"Yes, MacLeod," Methos said sardonically, "that Terrence.  Let's see, Rabi lost not three months ago."

"I didn't know that," Kyra frowned.  "Damn.  Duncan, I don't know, you'd have needed to ask Darius.  I don't know that she's still in touch with all of us.  We're a spread-out bunch and she wanders more than we do.  I mean, Holly's dead, and Aelfgyfu -- Damien's first teacher," she added.  "And so are Hana and David.  I really don't know, Duncan.  I think maybe another fifteen or so?"

Kyra caught Tracy's hand, seeing the shell-shocked look on the young woman's face.  "She's a good teacher, Tracy, don't let this scare you off.  But over the centuries, you lose sisters and brothers.  It's just the way things are.  I mean, she's been doing this for more than two thousand years; the law of averages catches us off-balance some times, that's all.

"Besides, there are good points to being immortal.  Go to strange places, meet strange people," and she grinned at the others in the circle, "and learn about unusual weapons...."

Duncan met her eye and grinned, well aware that wasn't what she'd said the time they ended up in bed comparing French and Scottish 'swords'.

Methos looked at the feline smiles from Kyra and Gina, at Duncan's salacious amusement, and murmured in Gaelic, "Highlander, sometime I've got to hear this."

"And Tracy?"  Gina spoke softly to gain the pre-immortal's attention.  "Robert and I will be perfectly happy to train you if Aidan cannot.  Do not fret over that, hmm?  It has been too long since we've had a student.  It would be a pleasure."

"And even if we don't," Robert chimed in, "perhaps you should come to France when you have some vacation time, see the sights, and we'll show you a few little tricks and traps then.  You are traveling armed, aren't you?"

"I'm a cop," Tracy laughed.  "I'm armed.  I even have a sword in the trunk of my partner's Caddy.  Thank you, both.  I appreciate the offer."

"What kind of sword?" Kyra asked, leaning forward slightly.  "And who's training you?"

"Gladius, and Lucien LaCroix.  He was a Roman general, and Aidan asked him to start me out."

"Good choice on the sword.  I started out on short sword and shield; it's a good weapon to learn on."  Kyra grinned at her and said, "How long are you in town for?  If you like, we can get together and I'll try to show you a few tricks I've picked up here and there."

"We're here until Monday evening," Tracy said.  "Maybe tomorrow or Monday during the day?"

"Sounds great.  All right, here comes Walter.  Battle stations, ladies.  And Tracy?  I'll call tomorrow and we'll set this up, but if Walter hears about this, he'll want to try to help."  Kyra assumed her best innocent expression and examined her nails for chips in the polish.

Tracy shuddered at the thought, then said innocently, "Hears about what?"  By the time Walter came within hearing distance, Gina and Robert were haggling with Tracy over who was paying her plane fare to come visit that fall.

~ ~ ~

Damien wrapped his arm possessively around Stormy, who sighed and leaned into his warmth.  "Doing all right?"

"Helluva lotta people, Appesard, and most of 'em wondering who you brought this year.  They don't seem to have much faith in your taste in women," she added dryly.

"Unfortunately, that's because he's usually clueless," a sweet voice said.  "With certain notable exceptions."

"Amanda, it's called tact.  Could you try, once in a while, to use it?"  Nick Wolfe sounded and looked exasperated.  "Pardon her, please.  She can't seem to get over the fact that I quit the police force.  I guess," he added sarcastically, "that she thinks one of us should play bad cop."

"Well, I don't eat donuts," Amanda shrugged.  "It's not a hardship.  Besides, Nick, Damien and I are old friends."

Didn't Mr. Nash mention someone named Amanda? Stormy wondered.  Out loud, she said, "Nice to meet you then.  Sylvana Storm.  And you would be?"

"Amanda Darrieux, this is Stormy," Damien said firmly.  "For once in your life, 'Manda, will you please behave?"

"I always behave," she replied indignantly.  "Nick Wolfe, I'd like you to meet Damien Appesard."

The two men exchanged glances of perfect, long-suffering understanding.  A grin edged Wolfe's mouth; Damien's eyebrow rose minutely as he fought down his own grin.  The Amanda Mutual Defense League gained another member, and both men chuckled.

Stormy sighed.  "Men."  She and Amanda had checked each other out, debated a cat fight, and decided against it all in one moment.

"I love your dress," Amanda said sincerely, having decided to annoy Damien by being polite.

"Yours is impressive," Stormy replied, looking at iridescent white silk with strategic beading.  "That's lovely."

"Yes, it is," said a quiet voice.  "I like it, Amanda.  Enjoying the party, Damien, Stormy?"

"It's really somethin'," Stormy drawled.  "You doin' better?  Looked like you had a touch of somethin' for a second there."  Interesting.  The more I drawl, the more she relaxes.  Well, Damien said that Dani St. Vir was a Yankee.  I think I can play this up to make a friend of his feel better.  Win more flies with honey than vinegar.

"I'm fine, thank you," came the answer.  "Nice of you to worry, though."

"So where're those two gorgeous men who were with you?" Stormy continued casually.  "They were lookin' for you."

Amanda chuckled and said, "Have you checked under the mistletoe lately?"

"Wolfe, if she goes near mistletoe, you're on your own," Damien said, tightening his grip around Stormy.

"Ah'd like to breathe, Damiano.  Give a girl a break, hmm?

Aidan laughed quietly.  "Damien, do I need to get Duncan over here to defend your virtue?"

"Ah'll handle that just fine," Stormy replied cheerfully.  "Not a problem at all, although it's kind of you to offer."

"Duncan and Adam are talking to a new friend of ours.   Did you want to come meet them, you two?  Kyra's here, too."

Wolfe watched the maneuvering and grinned to himself.  Aidan clearly wanted the burly redhead to go, and equally clearly didn't want to set Stormy off.  Of course, now Amanda was intrigued, but what the hell.  "Come on, Amanda, we'll catch up with them later.  Didn't you want me to meet someone named Marcus?"

"Now, darling?"  Her voice was incredulous.

"Why not?" Wolfe asked blandly, and winked at Aidan.  "Come on, Amanda, we'll find them in a few minutes, but he's the last name you wanted me to meet and then I can settle down with some scotch and bullshit with Joe and his friend over there.  Let's get this over with, all right?"

"Oh, all right!" Amanda huffed, following him as he headed off.  "You can be so stubborn, Nick Wolfe!"

Damien watched them go and grinned.  "About damn time someone didn't take Amanda's guff.  I like this man.  I'm putting him on my Christmas list."

"So am Ah," Stormy drawled.  "Ah am impressed."

"And grateful," Aidan smiled.  "Come on, Damien, I want you to meet a friend of mine.  Stormy, would you care to come along?  I think we're going to sit down and put our feet up for a while over there."

"Lead the way, Aidan, Ah'm all in favor of that."

* * * *

In the grey minutes of pre-dawn, several tired faces were visible over the tops of chairs and couches.  Without exception, the men had loosened collars, removed ties, thrown jackets over flat and not-so-flat surfaces.  The women had their shoes off and in several cases their hair down.  Silence lay over the room like ground mist over the cold streets outside.

Connor MacLeod finally stirred.  "All in favor of cleaning everything up after sleep, say 'Aye.' "

Duncan never lifted his head from Methos' chest.  The Scot had sprawled back against his lover and was enjoying the languid hand which occasionally moved through dark, loosened hair.  "Aye."

Methos chuckled.  "You have to ask?"

Nick Wolfe sighed.  "How'd I end up on clean-up detail?"

"Bad luck," Damien sighed.  "Someone has to help.  Aye."

Joe shook his head.  "Got an extra bed, MacLeod?  That's the only way I'm helping tomorrow."

"We can arrange something," Connor sighed.  "Make Rich scoot over if nothing else."

"If it means I don't have to push a broom tonight, no problem," the young redhead groaned.

"Not worried, Ryan?" Methos prodded.

A skeptical blue eye showed as the young immortal raised one eyelid.  "One, it's Joe.  Two, we are both way too tired, even if we did lean that way.  Does your mind just live in the gutter?"

"No, Rich, it would have to swim up to see that," Aidan said tiredly from where she was curled against Connor.  "Aye, brother.  Let's do it tomorrow.  Stormy's asleep, poor thing, and Amanda's going to be asleep if you ask her to help now.  Leave be.  It can all wait."

"You're lilting," Kyra chuckled, sounding none too chipper herself.  "We are tired.  You know, we used to run marathons and still fight...."

Marcus Constantine sighed.  "Some of us still can."

"I don't hear you volunteering," Methos pointed out idly.

"Some of us aren't stupid, either," Marcus said blandly, then pushed up off his chair.  "Kyra, may I offer you a ride to your hotel?"

Slowly, people started rousing and arranging themselves, calling promises to be back around one or so.  Damien was holding Stormy up, with one arm around her waist.  She was almost but not quite awake, holding onto Damien with both arms and making sleepy, murmuring noises.

Wolfe got Amanda up, seeing that she was actually as alert as he was, and he was used to all night stake-outs.  Duncan may be an old boyfriend, but I don't think I'm worried, the former-cop thought to himself.  I think Adam and Aidan keep him busy.  Even as he thought that, Adam leaned over the other man, trying to wake him up to go to bed.

Aidan moved over, tugging at Duncan's arm.  "Come on, Dhonnchaidh, up."

He rolled over, freeing his arm and wrapping it around Methos' waist.  Connor looked at that and sighed.  "Let me, sister."  Leaning in, he whispered in his kinsman's ear, and Duncan sat up so quickly he nearly cracked his head on Connor's chin.

"What?  Where?"  The younger Scot hastily looked around, then glared at Connor.  "That was unkind."

"Making Aidan and Adam lug you downstairs would have been unkind; I was merely inaccurate.  Go to bed, cousin."

People cleared out slowly, making plans to meet in the afternoon, in the evening, to write more often.  Connor listened as they talked, locked the doors behind everyone, and stretched.  From several years' practice, he managed to avoid looking at the remaining disorder from the party as he collected one last drink and held it up for a moment.

"Nice idea, Kastagir."

Draining the drink, Connor sighed and considered the mess briefly, and the fact that three or four visitors had made it very clear they needed to talk to him soon.  Then he laughed and put the glass down, not worried about where.  All of that was tomorrow's problem.  Tonight -- This morning, he corrected himself -- he was going to bed.
 

finis 12/24/98

Notes, Comments, and Commentary:

1 - The joke about ladders goes back to 'Quarrels of All Kinds', and Aidan broke an arm that time.  The references throughout this story to Dani or Danielle St. Vir are explained in 'Hold On'.

2 - Methos' identity as Robert Morgan, a Boston tavern-keeper in the late 1700's is all my fault, honest.  Connor's notorious duel on Boston Common, on the other hand, keeps getting blamed on some tavern-keeper named Robert....

3 - Rachel Ellenstein was Connor's ward, rescued from the Nazis in World War II, and is now his assistant in the antiques store.  No, this is not Rachel MacLeod from the episodes "Homeland" and "Deliverance."  Sorry for any confusion; I didn't name them.

4 - Calvados is an apple brandy.  I don't much like it, but Aidan does.

5 - Yes, you can use acupressure and herbal teas as described if you know what you're doing.  And the Chinese traditionally check six pulses; the high and low pulse on each of three meridian lines.  But quite honestly, in the States at least, it's easier to get to a doctor and get antibiotics, if you can take them.

6 - Hell, yes, I'd love to see Methos and Connor spar.  They both play dirty....

7 - The story about Connor's belt? See Split Hide.

8 -  Re:  Aidan's discussion on Christmas.  Yes, the date was taken from the cult of Mithra, for the reason described.  (Shepherds don't watch over their lambing sheep until March or April.)  The opinions on stability in religion and skipping holiday worship are both hers and mine.  Paul converted from Judaism to Christianity after repeatedly denouncing Christ and changed his name to do so (he had been Saul of Tarsis).  Despite the above opinions and comments, like Aidan, I do have several Christian friends.

9 - Okay, so I don't deal well with flashbacks.  Be grateful you got this much of Aidan's history.  One of these years, maybe.

10 - Aidan lost her temper over the Watchers in 'Explanations'.

11 - Sorry, folks, but the writing style in most anthropology texts makes me want to edit them, and I hate editing!

12 - Yes, according to the Watcher CD, Horton was the Watcher on the Kurgan for the last five years of his life.  It lets me understand why he could come up with the Hunters, I suppose, but not forgive it.

13 - Joe's problems with the Watcher Tribunal are in "One Minute To Midnight" and "Judgment Day."

14 - Methos is claiming he became an immortal in "Comes A Horseman."

15 - Yes, Christmas trees were originally intended as ceremonial magic.  The images on the tree (dough horses, cattle, fruit) were your wishes for the year, or symbolic offerings to the Gods.  Try it sometime; it adds something to decorating the tree, if you know what you're dreaming of and for.

15 - Do I really need to tell anyone about Blade of the MacLeods, from "Dramatic License?"

16 - Aidan brought Connor the alcohol in Hold On; the fight with the two female immortals is from Shadow Plays.

17 - In my fic/Aidan's universe, Erin Shea is the Watcher Researcher who handles the oddball files:  vanished immortals, use of apparently mystical powers, you name it.  She and Joe are currently carrying on a long-distance relationship.

18 - The Mabinogion is a book of Welsh myths, and the story of Rhiannon can be found there.  In some stories she's a goddess, in others she's a faerie from under the hill, and in still others, she's a mortal woman of great power and skill.

19 - Yes, the worship of Isis prospered for many years in the Roman Empire, even after Cleopatra lost her fight to hold Egypt.

20 - Freddie Kreuger is from Nightmare on Elm Street; Norman Bates, of course, ran the Bates motel in Psycho.  If anyone writes those résumés, I would love to see them!!

21 - Aidan and Rich made the bets in First Harvests; her bet with Duncan was in The Gathering Darkness.

22 - Nick Wolfe is Amanda's reluctant partner/cohort in Highlander: the Raven.  As a former Toronto detective, I have no problem believing he knows both Tracy and Nick Knight by reputation.

23 - The Tuxedo Wars are not my fault!  My alpha reader kept bringing over International Male catalogues, and it just kind of got out of hand?  Oops?

24 - Since vampires are also immortal, they call the other immortals 'swordsmen'.  Aidan usually calls vampires 'nightrunners', too.

25 - Aidan's dress is stolen straight out of the movie The Shadow.

26 - A Seal of Solomon is a two-color, six-pointed star.

27 - Yup, Stormy and Damien got back together.  Details might be available, if anyone really wants them, but I haven't written it yet.

28 - Rich admitted to being raped in First Harvests, to Aidan's surprise and mine.

29 - Trapunto is a raised pattern on fabric, sometimes done with cording.

30 - If you haven't seen Mac & Kyra's discussion on 'swords' in "Patient No. 7" or on the Romance tape sold with Season 5's boxed set, you're in for a wonderful time.  It's truly hysterical.  As Connor would say, it wasn't the steel weapons they were discussing.

31 - Nick Knight (and the actor Gereint Wyn-Davies) does in fact play piano quite well.

32 - Walter constantly name drops and claims he knew Shakespeare; according to the Forever Knight novel These Our Revels (which I highly recommend) Knight was a spear-carrier in various productions for Shakespeare.   Per the same novel, LaCroix got Nick to quit such a debasing, low-class career, by showing up as one of the devils on a stage performance of Faust and terrorizing audience and actors alike.

32 - Kyra is a Spartan according to the Watcher CD.  And I think that's the correct name for the women's Games, but if I'm wrong someone correct me and I'll fix the reference.

33 - Amanda and Damien were an item for a while.  Enough said?

34 - M'chara -- Gaelic for my soul; mo chidh(e)  --  Gaelic for my heart. (Thanks to Ann Blessing for letting me know.) Muirnin   --  Irish Gaelic for beloved.  Luaidh(e)  --   Scottish Gaelic for beloved.  Cara  --  Italian for dear. Magister/Magistra  --  Latin for teacher (m/f).  Hope I didn't miss anything....

Go back to Explanations
Go back to Crystalline Patterns, part 1
Go back to Crystalline Patterns, part 2
Go on to Intermezzo

Comments?  Criticisms?  Continuity?  Virtual eggnog or cookies?
Send any or all of the above to Rhiannon, please!

Lovely graphics courtesy of

 Christmas cookies have been stolen since 12/25/98.