Disclaimer: Highlander belongs to Davis/Panzer. They are being borrowed and returned hopefully in about the same shape they were taken in. Jeff, Emmy, and just about everyone else, belong to me. You can use them if you like, just return them please.

Chapter 22

Emmy felt the buzz as she began to unlock the front door. She smiled. She was really excited to see Amanda. The last time they had been together was only for a few days, and that was before and after David's funeral. It had been several months since then. Taking care of an estate and all of the things required with someone's death was a time-consuming activity. Still, it did not hurt to be cautious.

"Amanda?" she called as she walked through the front door.

"Hey sweetheart, in here," came Amanda's voice from the kitchen.

Emmy walked into the kitchen and found Amanda standing at the stove stirring something in a pot. She shook her head and laughed. "What are you making? We're supposed to be going to dinner tonight."

Amanda flashed a smile at her over her shoulder. "I know. It's not dinner, it's dessert. I found all the supplies to make no-bake cookies in your cupboard, so I figured I'd entertain myself while I waited for you."

Emmy came up and sniffed the mix. "Well, it smells yummy, so it looks like your recipe was good this time."

"Hush, you make it sound like it's bad when I bake stuff," Amanda replied, trying to sound hurt but smirking all the same.

"Not often. Usually you bake and cook amazing food, but we both know that sometimes your creations are... a little off." Emmy shrugged. "It doesn't mean I love you any less. Besides, we both know that I can't cook any better."

Amanda sighed. "I suppose that both of us hit our peak with cooking. I think it's never going to be a skill I'm really amazing at."

"I think that both of us have taken more time to hone our thieving skills instead. Do you still break into places just to make sure you're not rusty?"

Amanda gave Emmy a disarmingly innocent stare. "What do you think?"

Emmy just smiled, shaking her head. "Yeah, I do too. So, how's Duncan?"

"He's a little miffed that he wasn't invited to this party. He thinks you're avoiding him."

Emmy rolled her eyes. "Of course he does. It's just, well, I can't talk to Duncan the way you can. He and I haven't had a good relationship since the thirties. I think it's because we're too much alike. Well, other than the whole thief-thing, anyway."

Amanda sighed. "I know that, you know that, and Duncan knows that. It's just he won't admit it. He likes to pretend that you two are still best friends."

"We are best friends. We're just on different paths right now," Emmy said, biting her lip. My path involved David, and now there's Rick...

Amanda turned off the stove and started adding vanilla, salt, peanut butter and oats to the mix. "Speaking of paths, tell me more about this guy Rick. He seems like a mystery to me. I mean, even Jeff wouldn't really say that much about him."

"Oh, Jeff," Emmy rolled her eyes dramatically. "Sometimes I think he tries too hard to make Rick sound mysterious. He's kind of an ordinary guy."

"How so?" Amanda asked, as she mixed the ingredients.

"He owns his own business, goes to work every day, and has nights free to do what he wants. He likes his solitude, and he tries to stay away from other Immortals."

"Other than our desire to kill each other, why is that such a big issue for him?" Amanda asked, studying Emmy.

"I think I'll let him explain that at dinner tonight. He's excited to see you now." Emmy grinned.

"Don't you mean meet me?" Amanda asked with raised eyebrows.

Emmy shook her head. "No, I mean see you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go take a shower and change into something formfitting. You should finish your cookies and do the same."

"That was the plan," Amanda replied. "All I have left is to set them in globs on the wax paper."

"Good, then I will see you in about an hour or so, looking like the two Immortal divas we are."

It was Amanda's turn to roll her eyes. "Sometimes I think you let the fact that you became Immortal at eighteen go to your head!"

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," Emmy shouted over her shoulder.