EXCERPT - "God, Cassandra, you can be such an idiot," Chelle said. "Connor still loves you. And he still wants you. A lot. But he doesn't think he ought to, so he's trying desperately to put up some walls."
Chapter Text
After the Keeper meeting ended, Amanda, Cassandra, and Karla collected lunches for themselves and for Viyar and Shariade from the dining hall, then took the river road toward Viyar's cabin. As they climbed the hill to the brewery at the edge of town, Cassandra asked, "How is your new grandson, Amanda?"
"Absolutely adorable. Talin and her partners are so happy to finally be parents."
"Who else is in that household?" Karla asked.
"Tauseen, Marie, and Hana."
"Tauseen's barely a century," Cassandra said with surprise. "Is he fertile yet?"
"Probably not. Talin says she got pregnant at a bacchanalia, and the genome test showed the bio-father is Emil. You had children by him, didn't you, Karla?"
"Two girls, not long after we arrived here. They'll be fertile in another decade or two." She stopped walking and turned to look at the town, neatly laid out with concentric circles of family houses surrounding the village green, where the dining hall, bath house, school buildings, and children's dorm formed another circle. Darker lines of gardens outlined all the paths, and fruit trees shaded every intersection. "We should start planning more infrastructure. Now that the second generation is having children, our population growth will shift from linear to geometric."
"What's that mean in numbers?" Amanda asked as they all started walking again.
"We came here with fifty-six people; now we have about two hundred. A century from now, we'll have more than a thousand, and thirty years after that, we'll be close to two thousand. More, if the new immortals like having children. Or, we could restrict fertility."
"Or some of us could leave," Amanda suggested. "The Game should be over soon, which means only one immortal left. Once we dispatch him, it'll be safe out there."
"Unless Yanlei — and any other women we missed — has been having children, and they're playing the Game, too," Cassandra reminded her.
Amanda rolled her eyes. "Trust a MacLeod to find the only immortal woman in ten star systems."
"If Connor is correct about Yanlei and the Sisterhood," Karla said, "then she — or rather, they — found him."
"Do you think he's right?" Amanda asked. "That the Sisterhood knows about Immortal children and has been breeding us? Or taking our children for centuries?"
"It's unlikely, but it's possible," Cassandra said, admitting what she didn't want to believe. After she'd calmed down yesterday, she'd done a lot of thinking and then asked Methos for his opinion. He'd agreed with Connor's assessment almost immediately. Cassandra wasn't convinced either way. "I am certain that once we learned about children, the Sisterhood knew soon after. And since Yanlei is out there, I'm glad of that, because the Sisters will be watching her for immortal babies."
"But what will they do with them?" Karla asked. "Teach them and send them on their way? Or start the Scarlet Owls again and keep them in the Sisterhood as an elite tactical unit?"
"I don't know," Cassandra admitted. "But I do know the Sisterhood will give the children a decent home and protect them from evil immortals. And since we can't be there…"
"True," Karla admitted.
"These Scarlet Owls … would they have been trained as thieves?" Amanda asked.
"Yes," Karla said. "Search-and-retrieve was a mission, as were search-and-destroy and search-and-rescue."
"I think I met two of them a few centuries ago. We had a little discussion about who got to keep some gems."
"Yes, they were Owls," Karla confirmed. "In their debrief, they recommended recruiting you as a teacher."
"Why, how sweet!" Her look of satisfaction shifted quickly to irritation. "So why didn't they?"
"The unit disbanded soon after that," Cassandras said, though imploded would be a more accurate term. Four of them had been beheaded in their own chambers; two more lost their heads that year. The sole remaining member (either the instigator who'd decided to collect the heads of her comrades or a survivor of the attack; the reports had been inconclusive) had lasted eighteen months before losing her head in a standard duel. "Immortals don't take orders well: not from mortals and not from each other."
"We do tend to go our own way," Amanda agreed. "Our current commune-life-style is fine for now, and it's been good for the children, but all this coziness gets a bit stifling. I'll be glad to get back to civilization."
"As soon as you — or any of us the Watchers reported as dead — go back," Karla warned, "the Sisterhood will know that the Cloudrise Massacre was a fraud."
Amanda shrugged. "I've had Watchers on my ass all my life."
"There are no more Watchers. But there might be Hunters."
Amanda swore in Italian, and Cassandra added a silent curse in ancient Kefti. "Why do you say that, Karla?"
"There were a few factions in the Sisterhood that did not like Immortals," Karla said. "Before we left, I was hearing rumblings."
"I wasn't."
"They'd hardly tell you, would they?" Amanda asked.
"You should have," Cassandra told Karla.
"And I would have done, if they'd progressed beyond vague hints of rumors, and if we hadn't been about to leave. But you were busy, and we've been safe here. Before we go back, however, we should be cautious."
Caution was always wise.
"If they don't know what we look like, they won't know we're back." Amanda lifted her chin with stubborn determination. "We should destroy the chronicles."
"We've done that before," Karla noted.
Amanda shook her head. "Not completely; we kept our own copies. They all need to go."
"That would affect all immortals," Cassandra said.
"I'll put it on the agenda for the next town hall," Amanda replied. The path was narrowing as they entered the woods, and Amanda took the lead. They walked silently in single file until they reached Viyar's cabin.
Shariade waved to them from the porch, and she and Cassandra shared a hug. Viyar greeted the immortals as they came inside then asked, "Did you decide whose quickenings I should try to contact?"
"Mine," Karla answered. "Amanda's better at holding the circle, and Cassandra doesn't want to wake any of hers."
"And I've been in Karla's memory-scape before," Cassandra said, "so I can be your guide. Shariade, would you monitor us, please?"
"Sure," she said. "Does anyone want a pillow?"
"I do," Viyar said. "I'm going to lie down for this."
"We'll start today with the circle and our crystals. If that doesn't work, we'll use the orb, though we'll need to be warded for that, so Viyar will have to come to the vault." Amanda slipped off her shoes and sank gracefully into a half-lotus seated position on the floor. "Shall we?"
Karla and Cassandra sat on either side of her, forming a semicircle, and Shariade put the pillow in the center of it. "Crystals, please," Shariade requested, and the Immortals pulled them out from shirts and pockets, and Shariade briefly held each one, aligning their energies.
Viyar lay down, her head on the pillow and her arms outstretched, reaching out to Cassandra and Karla. Then Cassandra started the humming, soft and low, and one by one the others joined in, weaving a harmony of sound and power. They joined hands, and with Amanda's deft guidance, they slid into the psi-circle, while Shariade kept watch nearby.
Cassandra connected with Karla first, then led Viyar into Karla's memory-cave. A phosphorescent blue glow suffused the space. The air felt chill and smelled of cold ashes from long-dead fires. The faint screams beat against her mind, a cacophonic chorus of frantic souls.
Geodes lay scattered about, some on the sandy floor, some just under the surface in a pool of clear water, a few on rocky ledges. One was half-encased within a stalactite. Viyar touched that one and shuddered, then trailed a fingertip along the geodes on the ledge, before choosing one from the sand. Cassandra turned away, trying to tune out the noise, and kept her focus on the small patch of light in the distance that showed their way out.
After a time, Viyar squeezed her hand, and Cassandra led them back into the waking world. Cassandra kept her eyes closed while she sipped the juice Shariade handed her, then took a deep breath and looked around. Viyar was wrapped in a blanket, and Amanda was standing in front of the window. When she rejoined the circle, Shariade sat down on the floor nearby, and Karla turned to Viyar.
"When I held the geode, I made contact," Viyar announced. "But only emotions. I couldn't quite hear the words. Those geode coverings are dense."
"Real ones need to be cracked open with a hammer," Shariade noted. "What would a psychic hammer even look like?"
"Whatever you imagine it to be," Karla answered.
"I don't think a hammer is a good idea," Amanda warned. "Not at this stage."
"How about contacting a quickening that's not encased in stone?" Shariade said. "Methos keeps his in wat—"
"No," Viyar interrupted. She shuddered. "No. Around him, the screams are deafening, even when I'm not trying to listen. I'm not going into his memory."
"I have been in his memory," Cassandra said. "Whenever we got near the pools, he would fall in. But I never did."
"Perhaps, then, I should be the one to hold the geode?" Karla said. "It may be more porous for me."
"Quickenings align during an absorption," Amanda said thoughtfully. "So the host is likely in resonance with all the stored quickenings." She turned to Viyar. "Shall we eat first? Or are you ready to go back in?"
"I can go back in."
So back they went, and Cassandra led both Karla and Viyar into the cave. The wait felt longer this time, and when they emerged, both Viyar and Karla looked satisfied. "I connected with five people," Viyar reported. "All of them are isolated; they aren't aware of each other, and they don't observe or share in Karla's life."
"That's a relief," Amanda said.
"Indeed," Cassandra murmured. No doubt Connor and Chelle would be glad to hear their sex life could continue.
"What about the screaming?" Shariade asked. "Are they in pain?"
"Distress, perhaps, not pain. What Cassandra and I interpret as screaming is, I think, them wanting desperately to get out."
"Are they sane?" Amanda asked.
Viyar hesitated, and Karla said wryly, "They haven't changed."
"They seemed to have no sense of time," Viyar explained. "They don't think they've been there very long. A day or a night. Two of them said it felt like a dream. The other three used the word nightmare."
"So: not good for them, but not horrifically bad, either," Shariade summarized.
"And we still have our privacy," Karla noted.
"Good news all around!" Amanda rose as gracefully as she had sat down. "Shall we eat?"
After lunch, Cassandra collected Gershon from play-school, and they spent a happy hour weeding the community garden before going home. "Papa!" Gershon called out, launching himself at Methos, who lifted his son and swung him up and around and down. "Can we go for a walk?" Gershon asked.
"After I record my service hour?"
Cassandra helped him enter his time on her tablet, and he helped enter hers. Then with a smile, a kiss, and a wave, Gershon and Methos were out the door. She settled near the sunny window with her knitting. She was nearly finished with the first baby sock when Filip tapped on the window.
"Hello, Mama!" Filip swooped down and planted a kiss on the top of her head, then collapsed into the chair facing her. He somehow managed to sprawl all four limbs over the edges of the chair,
"Hello, child," Cassandra greeted him in return.
"All right, fine." He rolled his eyes. "Hello, Cassandra."
"Hello, Filip." The transition from a child-parent relationship to immortality took time.
He tilted his head back and blew air upward to get the strands of his (too-long) hair out of his eyes. "Where are the little sibs?"
"Pauli and her classmates are building a cabin today, Neliah is at a friend's house, and Methos took Gershon for a walk."
"Ah."
"And are you out for a walk?"
"Me? Oh, yes. That is, I'm due at the dojo in twenty minutes. Connor's going to show us some katas that use swords. Your house is on the way there. Which, by the way—" He stopped, looking confused. "Funny to have another way like that." He emerged from his contemplation. "Anyway—" He stopped again.
Cassandra started the next sock while waiting patiently. Listening to Filip was sometimes like watching a hummingbird. He was apt to dart off in a completely different direction at any instant.
"That's the reason I stopped here today," he finally said.
"What is?"
"Because your house is on the way between my cabin and the dojo, and—" From his bag he drew forth a small parcel, beautifully wrapped in the Japanese style: a blue and white cloth arranged in precise folds. "—Connor asked me to give this to you." He stretched forward and offered it to her.
"You can set it on the table," she said. "My hands are busy now." Filip leaned to the side and put the parcel down. Cassandra kept knitting.
"Aren't you going to open it?" Filip asked.
Not with an audience. "Later. I already know what it is."
"Oh. What is it?"
"A weaving I made some centuries ago. Connor brought it here with him."
"He sure wrapped it pretty. I bet that took a while."
His time would have been better spent bringing it to her in person, instead of sending it via her son. She switched to a new topic. "How do you like your cabin?"
"Good, good. It's good. Quiet though."
"You said you wanted quiet," she reminded him.
"Yeah, because after I crossed over, the buzzing of all the immortals was loud and I thought I needed a cabin. But the noise isn't as bad now, and most everybody else in the cabins is a long-timer, so I might move back."
"Because we long-timers are boring?"
"What? No. I mean, Connor and Chelle both live near me."
And Filip obviously found Connor fascinating.
"But I missed a bacchanalia because I skipped dinner and didn't check my messages, and if I'd been living here in town, someone would have told me. Oh!" He sat up. "I bet Chelle and Connor didn't hear about it, either. Does Connor like group-sex?"
Cassandra carefully counted three stitches then kept her gaze on her knitting while answering. "He never showed an interest in that when he and I were together."
"Maybe that was because you don't like it."
Not for the last four thousand years or so.
"It might be different now that he's with Chelle. I heard she's been to some."
Most people had, especially those born on Valinor, for whom all types of sex were still new. Since partner-swapping was common due to their long lives and the requirements of the genetics council, and no one had concerns about disease, bacchanalia had become a tradition on Valinor. And hadn't she been suggesting that Connor become more connected with his new community?
"Chelle hasn't been lately, though. I wonder if—"
"Don't you have class soon, Filip?" Cassandra interrupted, forestalling all details of his imaginings.
"What? Oh. Yes." He unsprawled himself from the chair. "I'd better go." Filip kissed her cheek on his way out. "Connor doesn't tolerate tardy."
Cassandra and Methos didn't like tardiness, either, but when Filip had lived under their roof, he'd never taken that lesson to heart. Cassandra looked at the tiny sock in her hands then sighed. She'd dropped a stitch and would have to unravel the last two rows. She set to that task, planning to complete the sock and then open the package from Connor, but Methos and Gershon came home just as she finished. "Did you have a nice walk?" she asked.
"Yes. I found a new rock." Gershon displayed his treasure, a small white pebble that matched the dozens of other pebbles he had carefully laid out on his windowsill. "And I'm tired, so I'm going to nap in my bed." He marched off to his bedchamber and shut the door.
Cassandra and Methos looked at the closed door and then at each other. "That's easier than it used to be," Methos said, sounding both amused and bemused. "Oh, Pauli's class will be working until the roof's on the cabin, so she'll be home late."
She shared her family news. "Neliah sent a message that he'd meet us at the dining hall for dinner." Children grew up so quickly, and lives were always changing. Though change could mean more of the same, only better. "Are you tired?"
When Methos turned to look at her, a smile started at his lips and slowly reached his eyes. "No. Not at all." He offered her his hand, as he had done earlier that day in the vault, and once again, she took it, but this time she didn't let go. They moved closer together, with hands caressing hands while looking into each other's eyes. "What shall we do?" he asked softly, when they were almost close to kiss and she could feel the warmth of his body all along hers.
"A bit of fun?" she suggested, because they hadn't been together for nearly a month, and casual was an easy way to start.
He pulled back just a bit, to look at her better, then he let go with his right hand and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, a whisper of a touch. "But that's not what you want."
Wise man.
"Tell me?" he invited, and his fingertips traced the line of her hair.
And why not? They had been together for decades and nearly waited too long. She tightened her grip on his left hand, not quite to the point of pain, and spoke of what she had been harboring in her heart. "I want there to be love between us, Methos."
His breath caught, and hope fluttered in that silence until he released it with a smile, and she stepped forward and captured that breath with a kiss, sweet and hot and full of promise. "I want to make love to you," she whispered against his lips. "And I hope–"
"Oh, yes," Methos agreed with prompt enthusiasm. "I want to make love to you." Then he kissed her, and the distance between them vanished as the heat of passion melded their bodies together, and the warmth of love embraced their hearts.
"Now that we have a long-term goal," he said, "what's the plan for today?"
"A bit of fun?" she said again. "Gershon's naps usually don't last very long, and I want us to take all the time we need to go from bedpartners to lovers."
At that word, he smiled again, and he ran his thumb along her lower lip. "And all our attention should be on each other."
"Yes." She had all his attention right now, and she wanted to give him hers.
"We could ask Varthena or Jalen to watch their little sibs," he suggested, "while you and I go to a cabin for a few days."
"An excellent plan," she told him. They should get a place distant from Connor and Chelle, preferably on the opposite side of town. "And it sounds delightful."
"It will be," Methos promised, and they kissed again, a pledge between them.
"So will this," she said and led him by the hand to her bed. Methos shut the door behind them.
That evening at the dining hall, Cassandra and Methos sat with Neliah and Gershon in their usual alcove. Jalen, their eldest (now nearly fifty, though he would always look thirty-four), joined the family gathering.
Filip waved as he walked by, but he stayed with the group from the dojo, and he sat at Connor's left hand. Rojin, Chelle's son by Connor, sat at his right. All of them were wearing swords.
Methos raised his eyes to heaven, as if praying for patience. "Who'd have thought that Connor MacLeod could start a fashion trend?"
Jalen glanced at the group. "It won't last. Wearing a sword is a pain in the ass."
"Why?" asked Neliah. "Did you sit on it?"
Jalen laughed and admitted, "A few times. But it was still in its scabbard, so I didn't get cut."
"Knives can cut you. So they have a sheath," Gershon announced, sharing information he and Cassandra had discussed in detail yesterday.
"Quite right," Methos agreed, as Neliah proudly placed his new knife — in its sheath — on the table. Then Jalen brought out his knife, and Methos and Cassandra brought out theirs, and they all discussed how best to sharpen and care for their blades, while Gershon asked many, many questions.
Chelle arrived, carrying her baby and followed by a gaggle of women eager to inspect the newcomer, standard herd behavior. Shariade was in that group, and she, like Filip, waved as she went by. She sat at Chelle's table, which was right next to Connor's. It was a cheerfully rowdy bunch, all young ones except for Connor and Chelle, though both of them would forever look eighteen. They made a lovely couple, and they had a beautiful family.
So did she. Cassandra leaned over and kissed Methos.
"You all right?" he asked, quiet and caring, with a flick of a glance at those two tables.
"I am now," she told him. "Thanks to you."
When the boys were done eating, Jalen said goodbye. Cassandra escorted Gershon to the bathroom, and then left him in the play-corner with Neliah and a few other children. When she returned to the alcove, she found Connor and Chelle sitting across the table from Methos.
Cassandra had no doubt that this social visit was Chelle's idea. They exchanged ironic smiles smothered in gracious cheerfulness. Connor's greeting was again brief eye-contact and a nod.
Methos stood and pulled out a chair for Cassandra, and they sat down together and faced the newcomers. "Where's Peanut?" Cassandra asked.
"Shariade's got him," Chelle said. "She's a good big sister."
"She's had practice," Methos said. He draped an arm across the back of Cassandra's chair. "She's always been a great help with our six."
Connor ignored Methos's posturing and pushing. "Filip said he delivered the weaving to you."
"Yes," Cassandra said. Then she added, "Thank you."
Methos turned to her. "Was it that thing wrapped in blue and white in our living room?" he asked, and she nodded.
"You haven't opened it?" Connor asked her.
"Not yet," she told him. He gave a slow nod, and she knew she had disappointed him. "It's been a busy afternoon," she explained. Methos's hand found its way to her shoulder and rested there, his thumb tracing small circles and his fingertips providing a light massage that spread ripples of heat down her side. Connor's gaze tracked that motion, and then he looked away.
"We've chosen a name for Peanut," Chelle said brightly.
"Do tell," Methos invited, though he didn't sound interested.
"We're naming him Baden, after a friend of ours from Earth."
"What happened to a 'completely new' name?" Cassandra asked.
"We changed our minds. Baden never had any children of his own. He was one of the teachers at Ceirdwyn's school, right after the Yellowstone eruption." She took Connor's hand, and they smiled at each other. "That's where Connor and I got to know each other."
Cassandra already knew their history. "Baden is a strong name," she said, "and it's good to remember friends. When's the naming ceremony?"
"Three days."
The tiny socks would be an appropriate gift. Perhaps Filip would deliver them for her.
"So, Connor, tell me," Methos said, with a friendly cheerfulness that set Cassandra's teeth on edge, "what do you think of the counselors here?"
"I haven't met them."
"No?" He put on a display of surprise. "Counseling is mandatory for all newcomers. How did you get out of that?"
"I haven't. Just haven't gone yet."
"And the counselors aren't hounding you yet?" Methos asked. "You've been here for twenty-three days."
"He was hiking for the first ten of those," Chelle reminded them.
Connor placed his hand on top of hers, a calming motion. "The counselors and I have been exchanging messages," he told Methos, "trying to find a time that works."
"As you know, I've been asked to attend at least one counseling session with you," Cassandra said. "It's been rescheduled four times, and yesterday you canceled it again. Maybe you and I should choose a time together?"
"Sure." Connor put his arm across the back of Chelle's chair. "When my afternoons aren't so busy." His hand went to the back of Chelle's neck and lingered there, an intimate caress that made Chelle close her eyes and shiver. "And my mornings," Connor added.
His mental health was more important than taking Chelle to bed. But the counselors didn't have a way to force attendance for regular sessions; they'd never needed to before. Yesterday, when Cassandra was making an appointment for herself and found out that Connor had canceled yet again, she'd suggested that prolonged non-attendance be classified as antisocial behavior, which meant access to food and housing could be denied. They said they'd think about it. Cassandra was tired of rescheduling her life to fit Connor's whims. Or his sex life.
"Newborns do require a lot of care," Cassandra said gravely. "Perhaps you should ask Shariade to babysit." She turned to Methos. "I'm getting tea. Would you like something?"
"Tea sounds good, and a dessert, if there's some left. Thank you."
Cassandra looked next at the happy couple. "Would you like anything?"
"I'll come with you," Chelle said, rising from her chair. "Coffee for you, right, Connor?" She placed her hand on his shoulder.
He looked up at her and smiled, touching her hand before she let go. "Right."
With both couples having clearly staked their claims, the women went to gather food. Cassandra was glad humans had evolved beyond pissing to mark their territory. "Do you think it's safe to leave those two alone?" she asked Chelle as they went to the kitchen.
"Not bloody likely," she said with a snort. "But I'm tired of the weirdness between us all." Chelle started the coffee brewing. "When are you and Connor going to talk?"
"When he tells me he's ready." Cassandra did not care to be dismissed again.
"Yeah, he's too good at the silent-thing." She set two cups on a tray. "I think there's an invite to talk with the weaving in that package."
"Oh, yes." Cassandra set water to heat for tea. "The one he sent via Filip."
"You know damn well that Connor is not going to go your place, where you and Methos have set up house for decades and where Methos might be the one to answer the door."
She should have known that. She had not thought about it. "Connor could have given it to me at the meeting today."
"It wasn't ready this morning."
"You mean he couldn't find it?" Cassandra asked dryly.
"Of course he could find it," Chelle said impatiently. "He knew exactly where it was. He was writing a note to go with it, but then Baden started crying and needed to be fed, and we were running late for the Keepers meeting, so Connor wrapped it up this afternoon. Then Filip said he was going by your place, so Connor asked him to give it to you. He thought you were in a hurry for it." She shut a drawer with unnecessary force. "Seems he was wrong about that."
Chelle had walked over to the bakery rack, and Cassandra followed her but stood to the other side. They stared at each other over rows of baked goods. "I never said I was in a hurry," Cassandra said.
"You just didn't want him to have it?"
Cassandra shrugged. "He doesn't want it."
"Yes, he does," Chelle contradicted. "Just like he still wants you."
"He doesn't—"
"God, Cassandra, you can be such an idiot." Chelle grabbed two cookies and stepped out from behind the rack. "Connor still loves you. And he still wants you. A lot. But he doesn't think he ought to, so he's trying desperately to put up some walls."
Cassandra thought back over the last few weeks. Luxuriating in rage or self-pity, she knew first-hand, could easily become wallowing in petulance and selfishness. She had not behaved well. Neither had Connor, but he was floundering in his new life, trying to find a balance. Counseling was not fun, and (like everyone) he sought pleasure and avoided pain. But he wasn't actively trying to hurt her, and he'd just made her a peace offering. She needed to acknowledge that and then respond in kind. "I hadn't seen it that way," she admitted.
"Yeah, well… it's been confusing." Chelle put the cookies on the tray. "And I'm an idiot, too, because it took me a while to realize that one of those walls is me."
She had her head down, but Cassandra saw the glint of tears. "Oh, Chelle." Cassandra went to the other woman and hugged her. "He does love you."
"I know. And he adores Peanut. I mean Baden. Even if he is another piece of the wall."
"I think," Cassandra said carefully, "that it's more of a foundation than a wall. Connor's building a family, and you and Baden are the cornerstones."
Chelle smiled wryly. "That's a nicer way to put it." She sighed and ran both hands through her hair, leaving the short locks ruffled and messy, yet still adorable. "I didn't realize Connor was on the rebound so hard that he was bouncing like a superball."
"He should have told you."
"He's an idiot, too," Chelle declared.
"No argument from me," Cassandra said, and Chelle laughed and they shared a smile. "Although," Cassandra said, trying to be fair now, as she hadn't been since he'd partnered with Chelle, "he probably wasn't thinking clearly then."
"Probably not," Chelle agreed. "He told me later he hadn't been with anyone for decades, even before he got on the spaceship to come here, and then as soon as I told him I'd like to have his baby…"
"Ah," Cassandra said, for she knew how deep that desire went in him. "That was, quite possibly, the sexiest thing you could have said to him."
"He was more than eager," Chelle shared.
Cassandra didn't need — or want — details. She had her own memories of welcoming Connor home, and she would treasure those, but she needed to move on, Chelle and Connor needed her to move on, and Methos deserved her full attention. "I am glad you're with Connor, Chelle. He needs you now."
"Thanks." Chelle took both of Cassandra's hands in hers. "He needs you, too, you know." Chelle kissed her on the cheek. "And so do I."
And now Cassandra was the one to blink back tears and then to kiss Chelle in return. "Thank you." Then she tried to lighten the mood. "You do realize that I am, in a sense, your mother-in-law."
"Shit," Chelle said, blinking in surprise, then recovered quickly and asked with a grin. "That means you'll babysit Baden, right?"
"I'd love to," Cassandra said.
The water was boiling and the coffee was brewed. Cassandra finished making tea, then they picked up their trays and went back to the dining hall.
Chelle stopped halfway through the room. "Looks like they're having a discussion."
It looked more like an argument to Cassandra. The men had abandoned their chairs and were standing facing each other, too close, with Connor perfectly still, like a coiled snake, and Methos slouching in his insufferably insouciant way.
"You son of a bitch," Connor said to Methos, low but distinct.
"Said the pot to the kettle," Methos replied.
Cassandra would have gone to them then, but Chelle held her back, saying, "They need to work this out." She grinned. "And I want to hear it."
Cassandra didn't find it amusing. But she was curious, too.
"Oh, come on, Connor," Methos was saying. "You're a son of a bitch, too." His malicious smile was mocking. "And after all, you yourself have called Cassandra a bitch. Plenty of times."
"Ouch," murmured Chelle, glancing sidelong at Cassandra.
Cassandra let it slide by. Connor hadn't called her a bitch in centuries. At least not to her face.
Connor wasn't letting it slide. "Shut up," he warned Methos.
Methos, naturally, did not shut up. He was on the offensive, in more ways than one. "It's funny, you know. All those times that people have called you a son of a bitch, and they were just being truthful." He held up both hands in mock surrender. "I know, I know, it's probably true for me, too." He leaned closer, smiling right into Connor's face. "But at least I'm not actually a mother-fucker like yo–"
And Connor hit him, of course he did, a low punch to the stomach that bent Methos forward, perfectly positioning his head for Connor's right fist to slam up into the jaw, cracking teeth together and snapping the head back. Methos dropped to the floor and lay there, blood oozing from his mouth.
Everyone in the hall was silent and staring. Connor turned on his heel and left the room.
"Good thing you put those knives away," Chelle said to Cassandra, then she collected Baden from Shariade and followed Connor out the door.
Cassandra went to Methos, who had recovered enough to sit up but was massaging his jaw. He gave her a still-crooked smile. His teeth were bloody. "You wanted Connor to get counseling, right?"
Failure to attend counseling after personal violence meant expulsion. Connor wouldn't risk being forced to abandon his family. "You'll need to go to counseling, too," Cassandra said.
"I've been before." Methos got to his feet. He used a table napkin to wipe the blood from lips and swished a mouthful of tea to rinse off his teeth. Then he looked at the tray, which held only Cassandra's cup. "Where's my cookie?"