IV

She woke up and realised the sky was dark already. She brushed her eyes and noticed the car was going slower. She looked ahead. They were in a city, and Duncan's Thunderbird was pulling over. Connor was doing the same.

"Are we there yet?"

"We are, Rach." Connor's tender voice tranquillised her.

Duncan turned off the car and went to open the garage. Once done, he waved at Connor who drove the car inside. Then the owner himself drove his car in. He left his car and closed. Rachel looked around. The garage was small. She did not like small places, another quirk the war had marked her with. Duncan showed them into a loft which was beautifully furnished.

"It's not much, but I think it will do for a while." He commented modestly.

"It's... nice." She said slowly. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Connor, do you mind sleeping in the sofa?"

The elder Highlander smirked. "Sofa?"

"Rachel will have Richie's room. And I won't share my bed with you!"

Connor blinked feigning seductiveness. "Oh, Duncan. I'll still respect you in the morning," he said with a mock charming grin. Duncan grinned, taking the joke.

"But I won't." He replied, following his clansman. "So to the sofa you go."

Connor nodded with false irritation and observed how Rachel was shown to the young Richie Ryan's bedroom. He remembered the teenager. He had broken into Duncan's antique shop, but his latent immortality had bewared Duncan. At the same time, Slan Quince made a spectacular entrance to challenge the younger Highlander. Only there was someone else looking for Quince: Connor himself. He had told Duncan to take care of the boy, but he never expected Richie would be taken under Duncan's wing. It was the same thing he had done for Rachel. Now he regretted it, and hoped Richie would grow old and die of natural causes.

Duncan returned. Connor followed him to the kitchen, where the homeowner prepared some coffee.

"How's Tessa?"

"She seems to be taking it well."

"And the kid?"

"Richie... er... he got involved with an older woman and ended up broken-hearted."

"How older?"

"Twenty years older. It was not one of us."

Duncan handed Connor a cup of warm coffee. Connor drank and startled slightly upon hearing the bell ring. He glanced at Duncan who went to check who it was. Connor moved to the living room and saw how a stunning, yet not quite beautiful, blonde woman rushed inside, halting as if surprised of seeing him there. Duncan was following her, with his best chivalrous face.

"Oh, sorry. I thought you were alone. Hi."

"Hi." Connor replied gaily.

"I'm Randi McFarlane."

"Connor MacLeod."

"Are you a cousin or something of him?"

"Sort of. You are...?"

Randi smiled, slightly embarrassed. He could tell she was the dominating kind, the sort of woman that did not like being ordered, enquired, or cornered. Pretty much like Brenda, he thought. She sat down without asking permission. He saw Duncan was growing irritated but at the same time he maintained his gallantry. Connor found the scene amusing.

"Randi is a reporter. I only wonder what she is doing here." Duncan spoke without emotion.

"I was driving by and saw lights in. Thought about calling in, to see if you wanted to talk about the explosion that happened at the antique shop of Con..." she stopped, realising of something. She looked sympathetically at Connor as she stood up. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. MacLeod."

"Thanks." Connor said curtly. "Neither him nor I have any comment to make now. Perhaps tomorrow."

Randi eyed him strangely. He knew he had spoken too calmly for someone who had just lost a aunt, as those who were acquainted with him thought of Rachel, who was also Russell Nash's aunt. She grinned and Duncan showed her the way out. He sipped his coffee calmly.

"She'll come back tomorrow," Duncan said.

"She reminds me of Brenda."

"She resembles her in a way, but..."

"I know, Duncan. Now if you don't mind, I'm tired, and we have much to do tomorrow." Connor said tiredly.

"We can't chat a bit?"

"I'm tired, Duncan." Again, the joker arose. "Unless you want to talk in bed."

"Night, Connor." Duncan said funnily, leaving Connor on his own.

-----

The following day, the two Highlanders gladdened their eyes with the sight of Rachel. The burns on her face were only a memory, the pain was gone and, for what Rachel told, the rest was slowly returning to normality. She looked younger, as if the wrinkles had died in the fire. She sipped her tea in silence.

"Is there something I can do here? Washing-up, or maybe do the ironing?"

"Rachel..." Connor spoke as kindly as he could. "There are bigger issues you... we must attend."

"Such as...?" Rachel eyed at him, then at Duncan. She shook her head and leant on her arms. "No. I won't do it." she said childishly.

"You have to, Rach."

"I can't." She cried. "I can't live on the edge of a sword like you do."

"Now you can't." Duncan coughed. "But in time, you will. I spent six years under his wing, until he thought I was ready."

"It's different. You are strong men. I'm..." she shivered. "An old lady."

"Won't you at least give it a try?" Connor asked, putting a puppy face Rachel had never been able to refuse. She giggled.

"OK." She accepted.

-----

Duncan was wielding his katana. He moved his arm left and right. Rachel imitated him, holding a light rapier she found rather heavy.

"Feel the flow of the sword. Make it one with you." She heard Duncan said.

Connor was contemplating the scene, his katana standing vertically beside him, his hand on the grip.

"I think I understand." She said. Indeed, her movement was fluid, and not awkward as when they had begun.

"Good." Rachel lowered her sword and glanced around. The place was a derelict space, probably a warehouse. Construction materials were all around. Apparently, Duncan had bought it once, intending to build something, but in the end he found it ripe to train people there. "Now let's practice."

Duncan struck at her softly. Rachel put up her sword without strength. He hooked her sword in his and made it fly away. Connor stood up and handed her his katana. She found it heavier. Duncan moved forward again. Rachel swung her sword up, in a reflex to defend herself. He hit her blade and the force of the blow made her fall. She stood up, looking disappointed.

"I told you I can't do this."

"Of course you can." Connor said. "Nakano was your age by the time he became immortal and lived more than a thousand years." He took the sword from her hands. "Perhaps what you need to see is how to use it first." He glanced at Duncan, who grinned.

The two Highlanders took distance and made a reverence. Connor struck. Duncan blocked masterly his blow, and countered with an upward swing that Connor avoided. They stepped back. Connor attacked again and his sword got past Duncan's defence, making a shallow cut in his shoulder. Rachel shrieked in horror. Duncan smiled and struck. His downward chop was blocked, but he connected a kick in Connor's cheek, who staggered back.

"Duncan... we're trying to show her how to use a sword, not giving her an accelerated course of martial arts." Connor lectured. Duncan grinned silently. "Star Wars, not Van Damme..."

Duncan struck again, interrupting Connor. The younger Highlander feinted right and hit left. Connor fell in his trap and received a hard blow on his side. Still, the elder Highlander lunged harshly and stabbed Duncan deeply, piercing through his stomach. Rachel screamed at the sight of the tip of Connor's blade erupting out, dripping blood, of Duncan's stomach. Connor retired the sword, realising the exhibition had gone too far, and that he had let out all his frustration and bitterness in that blow. Duncan fell dead.

"That shouldn't have happened." He cursed out loud. Rachel approached the dead corpse and touched it. It was lifeless... until it suddenly stirred. She fell on her buttocks and saw how Duncan returned to life. She had not seen it since... Connor had rescued her.

"That hurt."

"Sorry, Duncan."

"No problem, Connor. I think she's had enough for today."