Here it is, the final chapter. Allow me to take this moment to thank everyone who read this story and who took the time to review it. As I said in the beginning, this was my first foray into writing an original character, and I learned quite a bit doing it. I have come to the conclusion that all main characters are a bit of a Mary Sue, or the story wouldn't be interesting, ergo any OC that is also the main character in an established universe is going to be a bit of a Sue despite the best of intentions. I just hope I made her a decent character and the story, taken with a very large grain of salt, was a decent tale. If I ever get the courage to write a sequel (highly unlikely but you never know how bored I'll get) I will do better. And I'll rent the series first so I don't make the same canon mistakes I did in this. Again, thanks to everyone, I'm glad you liked it, or, if you didn't like it, at least you thought I was worthy of a constructive review. (incidentally, for those who may be wondering, this is how I planned to end the story all along.)

Turns out when Laville, or Langley rather, hit me on the head with the sword he gave me a concussion and somewhere along the line I broke my wrist and sprained my ankle. That's why I spent Thursday and part of Friday in the hospital, where I had a small battery of tests, visits from counselors making sure I wasn't suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and all kinds of questions from the police. Needless to say, by the end of it all I was more than happy when Ritchie and Anne came to see me, bearing gifts of chocolate and a little stuffed bear.

"So, according to this, Laville went crazy after his wife left him, and fixated on you because you looked like her." Anne was curled up on the foot of my bed, reading the 'official' account in the newspaper. Since that was in no way the true story, I could only credit the Watcher's counsel, or maybe Duncan's Immortal connections, with planting the appropriate evidence. It seemed a bit flimsy to me, but people were buying it, and that was the important thing; especially the bit about Duncan killing Laville in self-defense. Fortunately the bullet holes in the stage floor went far in proving that claim. "God, that must have been so scary."

"Scary about covers it," I said. Sometimes I thought I could still feel Langley's sword pressing against my throat, and every time I fell asleep my dreams would be interrupted with the vision of Duncan's sword slicing through Langley's neck. "Actually scary doesn't even begin to cover it, but I don't want to talk about that now. You haven't finished telling me what happened after you got to Lan...Laville's house."

"Well as soon as we got there, and Marcus said you hadn't shown up at his house, Ritchie knew something was wrong and he ran into the house looking for you, the big, brave dope that he is." Anne smile fondly at him, and he ducked his head in an exaggerated 'aw shucks' manner.

"Laville saw me coming, though, and darted out the back door. I tried to catch up, but he..." here Ritchie hesitated, and I'm sure whatever happened next was something he didn't want Anne to know, "he had too much of a head start, and I lost him."

"Then Ritchie called Duncan, and he met us, and then he sent Maggie and me home. Not too long after that, Marcus showed up and told us where you were, so we called Duncan, and he found you and, well, you know the rest."

"Poor Maggie. She really liked him." Anne and Ritchie exchanged a worried look. "What?"

"She still likes him. And he likes her. He told her that even though he only asked her out so he could keep tabs on you, per Laville's orders, he really started liking her, and he didn't mean to hurt her. She, um, well, she forgave him."

"Anne, he attacked me in the park." So that's why Maggie wasn't there. She was afraid I'd be angry with her for still liking my almost-murderer's accomplice. She wasn't wrong.

"He thought he was just scaring you. He said he didn't really know what Laville was up to. He just needed the money, and didn't think anyone would get hurt. As soon as he realized what happened, he came clean. That helped Duncan find you a lot faster than he might have otherwise. That has to count for something, don't you think?"

"Are you pleading his case for her?"

"Well, yeah. How am I doing?"

I sighed. "I don't know. Ask me in a few days. At any rate, I can't stop Maggie from having feelings for him."

"Well, think about it. Give him a chance. People do change, you know." That made me think of the conversation I had with Duncan over the holidays, about that Cassandra forgiving Adam Whatshisname, and I realized I should at least try to take my own advice. "I'll think about it."

I did think about it, and when Maggie came to visit later that day I found I could, if not quite forgive Marcus, at least accept the fact Maggie had. He really was repentant, and his confession did help Duncan find me, so I figured I could make my peace with him, eventually.

Meanwhile, life went on, carrying me with it. By the time I was released from the hospital, my drama had already become old news, and I was doing my best to put the whole thing behind me.

And now that the whole terror of the stalker thing was behind me, I found myself back to obsessing about my relationship with Duncan. It was with seriously mixed feelings I accepted his offer to take me home; I found myself quite reluctant to be alone with him, for reasons I couldn't quite articulate at the time. I think perhaps it was because what I really wanted to do is ask him what was going on with us and just didn't seem right to whine about a relationship to someone who had just saved my life.

We didn't talk much on the ride back to my dorm outside the usual pleasantries and cautions to take it easy. It wasn't until we got into my room that Duncan said, "We have to talk."

No good conversation has ever been prefaced with those words. I sat down heavily on my bed, waiting for him to say whatever he was going to say and finish breaking my heart.

Duncan grabbed my desk chair, and arranged it so he was sitting in front of me, forcing me to meet his gaze. "What happened with Langley should never have happened. When I saw you there, I realized how wrong it was for me to be in your life. I..." he stopped, shaking his head. "No, I'm sorry. You deserve the truth. The thing is, Molly, you're too young..."

"You could say that about anybody." I said, attempting to smile, and failing rather miserably, "and anyway, you knew my age at Christmas. That didn't stop you then."

Duncan had the grace to look ashamed. "I know. Even 400 year old people can make bad decisions sometimes."

"So I'm a bad decision, am I?"

"No. Molly, listen," he took my hands in his, and stared earnestly into my face. "I don't usually jump into relationships lightly, especially not with someone as young as you, but," he paused like he was searching for the right thing to say, then continued, "I made a mistake. Several mortal friends have passed away recently, and I was feeling alone, and, well, old. Then you came along, I found you attractive and sweet," despite the situation I couldn't help but preen a bit at that. "and you reminded me a bit of someone I knew once, long ago. I just got caught up in the moment. Me...Adam made me realize that your feelings for me were blinding me to the reality of the situation. What happened never should have happened. You are, to me, still a child, and..."

"I am not a child. I knew exactly what I was doing. I've loved you my whole life," I stopped, fighting the sudden urge to giggle. "And that's the whole problem, isn't it? I knew it. I'm Mary Shelley's sister."

Duncan looked confused, so I explained the story of Byron and Claire. He looked a bit nonplused at the comparison, but he didn't exactly deny it. "That is the general gist of what Adam was getting at." He smiled a little. "He knew the Byron at that time, so maybe he noticed the similarities."

In other circumstances I'd be really eager to learn the inside scoop on Byron and Claire, but I wasn't to be deterred. "So that's it? I'm just an error of judgment on your part?"

"No, it isn't that. You're eighteen. Even if I weren't immortal, I'd be too old for you. Your life hasn't even started yet. I know it seems harsh, and I know you probably don't see it that way, but it isn't right. I can't give you what you deserve, and it isn't fair to you."

"So, what, then? We just go our separate ways? I don't know if I'm ready to do that."

"We could still be friends."

"I don't know if I'm ready to do that either." I found it really hard to talk over the lump in my throat, but I tried "I never thought I would ever have you in my life. When I would daydream about my future soul mate, I always thought he would be 'like' you. He would have your sense of ethics, your charm, your kindness, but I never once thought I would have the chance to have you. The actual you." I was crying now, and hating myself for it, but I couldn't seem to stop. "It was like having a wish granted. I thought I would just be happy with whatever you wanted to give me, that having you just for one day - one extraordinary day - would carry me through the rest of my life, when I was back to ordinary."

For answer, Duncan took me in his arms, holding me tightly, but he didn't say, as I really was hoping he would, anything like: 'Gosh, you're right. We're meant to be together, what I a fool I've been," He just told me he was sorry that it happened that way, that it was better to end it now, rather than later, and that he never meant to hurt me. Words that helped not one bit in making me feel any better about the situation.

When I look back on it now, I think I wasn't crying so much for the end of the relationship as I was for the end of my childhood. Duncan Macleod of the Clan Macleod was my connection to my grandfather, the magic of my youth, and I had to let him go. I had to see him, not just as the larger than life hero but as a man who made mistakes, a man capable of making stupid decisions. I was crying for my loss of innocence.

Well, okay. I was crying for the relationship, too. I knew I would never ever be able to find anyone as good as Duncan Macleod, and I would probably spend the rest of my life looking.

But I got over it, eventually. That's the thing about living. Every day you heal a little bit, you get a little wiser, worse things come along to replace the thing you thought was the worst thing that ever happened. You grow up.

At the moment, though, I felt like my world was ending. "I just want to know something, and I know this is going to sound really stupid and weird, but I have to know. I know you didn't love me like I loved you but, do you think you might have? You know. Loved me, if circumstances were different?"

For a moment I didn't think he was going to answer, but he did. "In another time, and another place, I could very easily love you, Flora."

I smiled. "You called me Flora."

"So you know I'm serious." And with one last kiss he was out of my room and out of my life.

I sat on my bed, tears spent, staring at the door and thinking about what he said. "Another time, another place," I repeated to the empty room. "Another time..."

And I smiled.