X

The plane to Glasgow was not much crowded. Duncan and Connor shared seats, while Oliver and Rachel were a few rows ahead of them. The two Highlanders were silent, Connor staring at the blue sky while Duncan read a book.

"I'm sorry, Duncan."

The younger lifted his eyes to the elder one. "Why?"

"I... walked away. Left you with the burden to train Rachel."

"She needed you, Connor. I did what I could, but I had other issues to attend. I left her on her own."

"I understand, Duncan. So how did she do?"

"Fine. She got the cane you gave to Sean from him..."

"Sean died. I'd love to put my hands on the crook who did it."

"Take your shot." Duncan said sadly.

"What!"

"I was under a dark quickening. Too many heads made me evil. Methos saved me."

"Methos? Please tell me he never met Rachel."

"He did." Duncan sighed. "It was him who really trained her."

"That explains that defensive Please-Don't-Hurt-Me-Methos-patented stance Rach had."

Duncan laughed. "It does." Both broke into laughter.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts. We're near Glasgow." The voice of the stewardess startled them, cutting the fun.

"Back to where it all began." Connor said. "And where it all might end."

Duncan heard the gloomy words of his friend and remained silent. The sky was getting dark, threatening to rain. Bad omen, he thought.

-----

They arrived in the morning in Glasgow, from where they took a bus to Aberdeen. They booked in a hotel and each of them got a room. Oliver was barely wearing a pair of jeans as he practised some complicated movements when his mind sensed the buzz. Sweat was tripping down his built muscles. He opened the door.

Rachel startled a bit upon the look of his bare chest and blushed a bit more. He moved aside and let her in, perceiving a delicious smell coming from her wet hair. She had just taken a bath and was wearing a loose long night-dress. He observed, not for the first time, that she looked in her early forties, and not in the late fifties she was upon her mortal death.

"Can't sleep?" he asked casually.

"No, I was just... thinking."

"About?" he closed the door and approached, noticing how her eyes fell from his face to his worked-out body.

"What happened... between us."

He scratched his head. "I never told you how I became immortal."

"Now I wonder if it was just to get my head in the right time." She said despondently.

"No." He moved forward and took her hands. "It was a month before the night Connor caught us..." he grinned with some embarrassment. "You know where, right?" she smiled. "Well, I was returning home and crossing the street, some idiot ran me over. Of course, I couldn't believe it when I was still alive."

"And how did you... learned?"

"I came across this fellow a couple of days later. He gave me the usual lecture about being immortal: secrecy, don't stick around for too long, only die by decapitation, there can be only one, bla bla bla." Oliver grinned. "He told me the headache would announce someone was around and that I should avoid that someone."

"Would you have... fought Connor if he...?"

"If we had, I would've been in a body bag. The fellow disappeared and up until now, I never saw him again. After Connor caught us, I returned once. He told me that if he ever saw me again, my head would fall. I... chickened out. I moved to the farmhouse my parents owned and I came across this huge, really huge guy who worked there. He was kind of evil, but he trained me. He seemed mesmerised by the animals. One day, once I knew everything, he took off without bidding farewell."

"What do you think we could have become if you had...?"

"Don't ever ask me that, Rachel. Please. It hurts so much what we lost."

She grinned sadly. "Oliver."

"Yes?"

"Do you still love me?"

"As the first day." He said tenderly.

He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. A tear trickled down from her right eye, and another one from the left one followed.

"Could you please..." He stared at her. Her eyes were moist, her face seemed void of all the wrinkles age had brought her. She was crying as she talked. He bent and kissed her again. Only this time it was longer and more passionate. His right hand ran through her hair and the left one stroked her back. He felt pushed against the bed and he fell there with her over him. He felt her touch over his skin, which was on fire, going down to his trousers. He gasped, feeling her cold fingers on his belly.

"I can't do this!" he moved away.

Rachel stared at him with some sort of hurt in her eyes.

"It's because I'm old. So it was all about sex." She grunted harshly.

"No... it's not... " he stammered, unable to express what he felt in the right words.

"You said you loved me. You've always made me feel so beautiful... all my doubts and confusions are left in another world when I'm with you..." she stopped to let the tears flow freely.

"Rach..." he sighed. He took her in his arms and kissed her again, leaning over her, surrendering to her desire. He slipped his hand under his dress and removed her underwear. He fondled her face kindly. He unbuttoned his trousers and lowered them. She let out a gasp as he entered her. He went slowly, gently. Rachel's eyes glistened with fulfilment. Their breathing was one, so was their heartbeat, drumming in unison. She caressed his back softly and her touch ignited him. Their bodies moved in a slow-motion dance, careless of reality, careless of the world, careless of everything. He moaned in release, and seconds later, so did she. He lay on her breasts and felt her touch on her neck.

Right then they sensed someone coming. The knock on the door followed.

"Oliver, are you there?"

"Yes, Connor." He said, trying hard to sound as calm as possible, despite the closeness of Rachel's body ignited his excitement and fuelled him to go for more, this time not so kindly.

"Is Rachel there?"

"No." he lied.

"NO clue where she might be?"

"No."

A damnation was heard and Connor went away.

"He'll kill me if he knows." He commented to Rachel, who giggled.

"Connor's always been overprotective." She kissed his head. "What's in Scotland that's so important?"

Oliver moved away from her. "Something that can make you very powerful."

"Like a quickening?" she asked as he felt her hand on his thigh.

"In a way." He fixed a drink, trying hard to conceal his reaction to her touch.

"And when we will go there?"

"Tomorrow." He said with a strange detachment.