Of Cold Wars and Warm Friends

About to ascend the front steps to Amy's building, Mac paused at the bottom, surprised by her appearance at the door.

"Good timing, Mac." She smiled while heading down to meet him.

"That anxious to get there?" He teased, remembering the complaining she had done when she had been begging him to be her escort.

"Perhaps that anxious to get it over with," she returned, accepting his hand down the last two steps and over to his car.

"I don't know why you think it'll be so horrible."

"Not my thing, Mac. Just not my kind of thing."

"Well, you look amazing. Maybe you should make it your thing."

Amy looked up at him sharply. She was used to Mac being gallant. It was so ingrained in his being, he couldn't be anything else. But with what had happened upstairs in the last fifteen minutes… It was difficult to not evaluate what Mac said a little differently.

Amy felt her nerves kick in once again because Mac stood there, looking at her like she was an actual date, not a friend in need of a favor and she was not prepared to deal with that again. Instead of climbing into his car, she threw her hands in the air and turned towards the building steps. "Okay, seriously, I can't… I can't do this."

In two quick strides Duncan blocked her path. "What is going on?"

"Mac, if I knew what was bugging me so bad I could deal with it and be done. In the meantime, I can not get mentally prepared for this and…"

"You've been to formal events before, what can possibly -"

"There is quite the difference between an exhibit opening with you and Tess and a grand ball at an embassy. I avoid these things for a reason, I don't want any of the attention that they generate, and I'm horribly out of practice!"

"Then why are you going?"

"Because I promised Dad, and I want to see my parents." She played with her necklace, trying to remind herself of the evening's goal. "And I have something I must absolutely positively deliver to Dad tonight."

"Sounds easy enough. He is your father."

"With a hundred cameras and two hundred guests and they can't see it happen."

Realizing her irrational anxiety was taking control again, Amy closed her eyes. In small steps, her feet moved through a pattern on the sidewalk until the panic passed and she could re-center herself. She pushed aside her Personal desires and ignored her discomfort. She had a purpose.

Tonight is a job, no different from any other. You've never failed before and you won't now. Shut up and do your work.

Her typical front of confidence settled around her once again, and her eyes reopened with a look that was steady and calm, almost cold. Standing in a pool of light with her back to MacLeod, Amy looked up at her window, sure a certain Immortal was standing in the shadows, looking down. A smile for him alone lifted one corner of her mouth and with a wink at the window, she turned back to MacLeod. Shoulders straight and chin up, she ignored the puzzlement on Mac's face, accepted his hand, and eased into the passenger seat with a smile of amusement.

From above, Methos watched Amy meet MacLeod at the building steps, walk to his car, then turn to flee. He felt a part of himself take notice and, for a moment, he was pleased.

He wanted her to come back upstairs.

He wanted to dance more.

He wanted to explore just how similar they really were.

He needed her to go, as she had promised her father. He could feel a small, dark corner of his being reaching out, and it was dangerous. He ruthlessly tightened control of himself and muttered, "get back in the car."

Methos easily recognized her small movements as the steps of their waltz and smiled. He laughed when she raised her face towards her dark windows. Fifty feet down in the evening was too far to know for certain, but he could well imagine the impudent wink she had surely sent his way.

The Russian Embassy

From across the room, Amy zeroed in on a couple of average height. Nearly pulling Mac's shoulder out of joint, she dodged guests and waiters, slipping through the crowd far more easily than his large build allowed and dragging him in her wake. She slid in behind the couple, winked at a nearby bodyguard who smiled in return, and waited for a pause in conversation.

"Dad." She announced her presence with a hand on the elbow of his tux as she whispered towards his ear.

"Amy!" The gentleman turned and wrapped his girl in a bear hug before holding her at arm's length and examining her carefully. It wasn't a surprise anymore how little she changed from year to year, but it had been almost a year since the last time he got to hold her.

Studying her dad in return, Amy sadly noted how much more gray had appeared in his sandy hair, the deeper lines around his mouth, and a new sadness in the back of his eyes. She hated how his job aged him so quickly.

With one more smile, she let go of her dad's elbows and turned to the waiting woman. "Mother." They kissed each other on the cheek with a quick hug. Even her unflappable mother had changed in the last few years. Her jaw line was starting to soften and more gray peppered her dark hair, but her drive for perfection still showed in the details of her dress.

"Amy, I'm surprised you came! You've been playing recluse for so long." Her thin fingers reached out to fix a stray curl in Amy's hair before brushing imagined flakes off her shoulders.

"It's nice to see you, too, Mother." Amy turned away from her parents with a plastic grin glued to her face and gave Mac a look. With a small wave of her hand, she introduced them. "This is my friend, Duncan MacLeod. Duncan, my parents, Mr. Benjamin and Adrienne Allan."

Duncan MacLeod swallowed his surprise as he shook hands with Benjamin and then bent low over Adrienne's hand to kiss it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"It's all ours, I'm sure." Mrs. Allan returned. "Amy never lets us meet her friends. It's a relief to know she has some."

Surprised by her snobbery, Duncan glanced at Amy to see the plastic smile firmly in place, and wondered if her mother realized how fake it was.

"Listen, Dad, I'm sure you still have rounds to make and I see some old friends I didn't expect. Save a dance for me?"

"Of course, honey." Mr. Allan whispered and squeezed her hand before turning to speak to the next dignitary in line to see him.

Mrs. Allan smoothed her own hair before running her hand over Amy's braids. She gave her daughter a smile and squeezed her arm gently. The moment was ruined when she leaned to whisper, "You could at least try to enjoy yourself, talk with the guests, you might be surprised…"

"I promise I will, Mother, I just haven't seen my friends since the youth symphony." Gritting her teeth, Amy took Duncan's arm and almost violently pulled him towards the dance floor. "Not one word, Mac."

"They're your parents?"

"Yeah, they are. And not another word. Not now, not later, not to another living soul so long as you live." Her piercing gaze drove the seriousness of her request home, and he nodded with a reassuring smile.

"Friends?" He changed topics smoothly. "Why didn't you expect friends to be here?"

"Because they're the musicians. The guests? Ugh."

Duncan stayed by Amy's side while she waited for an opportunity to re-approach her father. They stood where she wished and they danced when she wanted to, though it was clear to MacLeod that her mind was otherwise occupied. Like him, she also carefully evaluated exits and security guards. More carefully than Duncan, Amy was watching security cameras as well as the comings and goings of the Russian staff. She slipped away once - to 'freshen up' - and returned to find him dutifully waiting.

After an hour, she pulled on his sleeve. "Alright, Mac. This is one reason you're here. I need to dance and talk with Dad for a bit. Will you keep Mother occupied, please?"

"How long do you need?"

"At least one full song. And the box I asked you to carry, I need that. Thanks."

Amy and MacLeod walked through the crowd, together this time, and stood at the edge of the dance floor, waiting for the song to end.

Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod performed beautifully. He politely stepped up to Mr. and Mrs. Allan and requested a dance with Adrienne before she could start another with her husband. Amy followed closely, not giving any of the other women a chance to approach Mr. Allan themselves.

"Hey, Dad." she stepped up as soon as Mac had taken her mother out of ear shot.

"There you are! I was starting to wonder if you had slipped away early." Mr. Allan reached for Amy's hands.

"Not without my dance." She smiled up at him, but didn't take his hand just yet. "Dad, I know it's terribly early, but I brought your birthday present." She revealed a small wrapped box in her hand, retrieved from MacLeod's pocket just before he began dancing with Mrs. Allan.

"Thank you, sweetheart, I didn't bring yours, I hoped…"

"Two years, Dad. Two more years and I will come home for every holiday plus a few we'll invent." She smiled at her father warmly. She did miss her family since running away, but she had made the right choice. Away from reporters, body guards, and the insanity of a political life, she had been free to forge her path - and to learn her heritage - without undue attention.

Mr. Allan absent mindedly tucked the bit of wrapping paper in his jacket pocket before opening the box. Amy watched his smile with pleasure as he pulled out the sapphire and diamond cufflinks and admired them.

"Do you want me to wear them tonight?"

"Would you? Here, I'll help." Amy waited as he removed the cufflinks on his sleeves. She placed the new set, then held out the empty box so he could drop in the original pair. "Perfect for you, Dad. They match your eyes."

Mr. Allan hugged her more tightly than before. "Thank you, Princess. I'll be sure to point that out when I show them off."

"Dad!"

He laughed and it thrilled Amy's heart to hear it. Benjamin Allan had a very distinctive laugh - when it was genuine. Politics had taught him to keep a carefully guarded exterior, and she was always happy when he allowed it to drop and authenticity returned to his eyes and voice, and most especially his laugh.

It seemed like he had stopped laughing when they moved away from Louisiana. He hadn't, but the ringing laugh from his heart had been used much less often in the ensuing years. Even phone calls full of jokes hadn't been able to elicit the comforting sound.

Ready to get out on the dance floor with her father, Amy lifted her hands and tipped her head. "Ready?"

They blended in with the crowd and moved in time with the music. Adrienne Allan would have been quite pleased at how well Amy learned some of her lessons, if she had been watching.

"You have grown up quite nicely, Amy."

"You and Mother set me on the right path, Dad."

"Speaking of parents, have you been over to see your mom and da'?"

"No, it hasn't worked out. Maybe in the next trip…"

"Amy, all the time you've spent in Paris recently, and you haven't made one day trip to see your parents?"

She looked at him askance. "You're not supposed to be checking up on me."

"Do you really think Mike wouldn't tell me what you're up to?"

Amy smiled and lay her head against his chest, conveniently hiding her mouth from the security cameras ringing the ballroom. She dropped her voice and switched to the mix of English and Cajun French her mother's family used, to make it more difficult for passers-by to understand. "Is Sensei here tonight?"

"No, he's at the hotel."

"Good enough. I need you to make sure he sees your cufflinks."

"What?"

"It's vital, Dad."

"Of course I will, but don't you want to…"

"No, it will be noticed if I were talking to your bodyguards. Just make sure he gets a real good look. He'll understand why." She hugged her dad tightly. "At least he can do what I can't."

"What's going on, Amy?"

"If I suddenly start trying to protect them… I won't be able to reach them all before the others would get killed. I can't do it, but Mike can get it started."

"Is this related to your… previous employment?"

"Yes."

With a nod, Mr. Allan rubbed his daughter's back and kept dancing. When the music ended, he smiled down at Amy and asked, "One more time?"

She took a step back and smiled. "Of course!"

Passing the musicians, Amy couldn't resist a wistful look which her dad noticed. "Are you still playing?"

"Sometimes. I keep a violin with me when I travel."

"I don't know that I'll ever understand why you decided to skip Juilliard."

Lost in watching the musicians for a moment, Amy barely caught what Mr. Allan said and responded without thinking. "I didn't skip! I was told I couldn't because -" She caught herself quickly.

"Couldn't? Your mother told me you changed your mind."

"Well, she's right, of course, Dad. I just misunderstood you for a minute." Amy carefully met his eyes and smiled reassurance while tugging on his hand to shift attention back to the dance. "C'mon, get back on the beat, Dad. I keep missing Alex when I call. What's he up to?"

Amy successfully kept their conversation light for the remainder of the song, focusing it on her brother, Alex, and his wife, living near Houston, Texas. A small corner of her mind kept chewing on what her father had said. It had been so long, she really should just let it go, but at the same time it was troubling.

When her parents moved from Louisiana to Washington, D.C., Adrienne Allan had told Amy that she could not possibly go off to Juilliard as had been planned because their new security arrangements wouldn't allow for it. But her father believed Amy had chosen to give up, because his wife had told him so. It was strange, and just puzzling enough to make her brain work on it. But if she allowed it to distract her tonight, there were going to be some serious consequences.

She set the question to a corner of her mind to be dealt with later. When she wasn't working, wasn't dealing with a friend dying from cancer, wasn't worried about shirking her duties at home, and so on and so on… This little detail was hardly that high of a priority.

The musicians brought the song to a close, Amy curtsied to her father and grinned at his gracious bow.

Grabbing a quick, last hug, Amy whispered in his ear, "Love you, dad. I'll see you as soon as I can."

Benjamin Allan responded by squeezing her more tightly. "I wish you would stay longer."

"I am. I want to make sure I get to say a proper good-bye, just in case."

Mr. Allan hid his own mouth from the security cameras. "What are you up to, Amy?"

"Nothing," she smiled at her father's snort. "Nothing at all."

The rest of the evening progressed smoothly, with Duncan keeping Amy too occupied to dance with anyone else. On occasion she pointed him at a few of the wives and recommended he dance with them, excusing herself from dancing with their husbands by needing to 'powder her nose' and slipping away to another part of the room, sometimes the bathroom, and once to the upper floors where private offices and bedrooms would be found.

Smiling from a corner of the ball room, Amy was pleased to see her plan working exactly as she intended. By being his charming, debonair self, Duncan MacLeod had the attention of the guests as he danced with one woman after another. Somehow, he kept the men from being jealous as he returned their dates to them with a gracious bow and a quietly spoken compliment.

Attention given to Duncan MacLeod was attention not paid to the short young woman in a dark plum dress. She had chosen the lovely color to help her fade into the shadows and slip upstairs in a series of carefully timed moves which kept her out of sight of the security cameras as well.

Forty minutes.

Forty minutes had been all that was required to slip through the upstairs rooms, and her job was completed.

It seemed like far too long for one person to vanish from the security cameras, but Amy was more willing to take the chance on one long, unnoticed disappearance. She had decided that between having to avoid rotating cameras and live guards, the odds were less in her favor if she were going up and down the stairs several times in one night.

Forty minutes.

No alarms were sounding. No security personnel seemed to be on alert. She knew she hadn't been seen. Apparently, she hadn't been missed, either.

After making sure she appeared to emerge from the women's bathroom, she stood at the edge of the dance floor once more. Amy watched MacLeod lead his latest partner around the floor in quite a display of skill.

Amy smiled. Both her self-assigned task and her job were complete, and she had time left over. Her feet felt a need to dance in victory, and she had the best dancer in the room for her escort.

Next: Leaving So Soon