New Fanfic: HIS BETTER HALF: An Elena Duran Story 0-1/8
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@ADELPHIA.NET)
Sun, 3 Jun 2001 04:59:15 -0400
HIS BETTER HALF: An Elena Duran Story 0/8
by Vi Moreau
vmoreau@adelphia.net
Standard disclaimer: the concept of Immortality and the characters of
Duncan,
Connor, Alex and John MacLeod belong to Rysher and are copyrighted by them.
This story is for fun, not for profit. This story originally appeared in the
HL
fanzine entitled A ZINE OF THEIR OWN: STORIES HONORING IMMORTAL
WOMEN. It's very well worth reading.
Also, this is an alternate universe which corresponds closely to Janeen
Grohsmeyer's HL universe. In this universe, Connor marries Alex and they
live
happily ever after.
The other characters, mortal and Immortal alike, are copyrighted by me, Vi
Moreau. The Immortal Elena Duran is a recurring character with a lot of
history
by now. To find out more about her and her relationship to our heroes, you
can
read other Elena stories, available at:
Ann Fountain's archive:
www.seventh-dimension.org.
At Celedon's Connor's Rotunda:
http://members.tripod.com/connorsrotunda/index.html
and at my webpage:
http://users.erols.com/darkpanther/moreau.html
Many many thanks to my fabulous, always-there beta readers:
my good friend Bridget Mintz Testa, who loves Connor MacLeod as much as I
do;
and my other good friend Janeen Grohsmeyer, creator/keeper of my website,
another Connor fan and in whose HL universe I am now playing.
Comments, questions, complaints:
vmoreau@adelphia.net
Rated PG-13, some language
HIS BETTER HALF:An Elena Duran Story 1/8
Saturday, November 8, 1997
MACLEOD FARM NEAR GLENALADALE, IN THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND
Elena Duran swallowed a mouthful of beef and put down her fork, carefully
wiping her mouth with a white linen napkin. From her seat on Connor's left
she
could see out the dining room's north-facing windows to the hills beyond the
boundaries of the MacLeod farm. Nightfall was finally settling over them
abruptly, like a smothering blanket.
She and Duncan had left her ranch in Argentina just two days before to come
to
the Highlands. This far north, and at this altitude, winter had already
settled in,
and the wind howling through the hills lowered the temperature even more.
At
this time of year it was summer in Argentina. If Elena were at home, she
would
be looking out at the flat pampa, bright green with life as far as the eye
could
see, with horses grazing in the pastures, knee-high corn and just-budding
wheat
in the fields, and long, tall grasses. Instead, she was looking out at the
cold,
barren, grey rocks and grey sky of the
Highlands.
She brought her attention back to her companions. She and Duncan had come
to celebrate John MacLeod's fourteenth birthday, after all, and Connor and
Alex
MacLeod were excellent hosts. No matter how forbidding the weather was
outside, in here there was a cheery fire and warmth to spare. She felt
safe, and
she was with Duncan.
"The table is lovely," Elena said, glancing around at the elegant
combination of
china, crystal, silver and candlelight. "The company is stimulating," she
added,
taking in all the MacLeods: Duncan next to her, John across, Connor and Alex
at
either end. "The merlot is a perfect choice," she continued, holding up her
glass
in Connor's direction, examining the deep red color of the Bordeaux wine
against
the candlelight and taking in its bouquet. She got a little nod from the
elder
Highlander in return. "And the beef is delicious, Alex!" A little wonder
at this last
one.
"Thank you," her hostess replied. "It's an old Scottish recipe called
Hielan steak.
I'm trying to learn some of the national dishes. By the way, I take that
as quite
a compliment. Argentina is famous for its beef, isn't it?" Alex asked.
"Yes, it is, and you've outdone yourself." Elena sipped her wine, thinking
that
the dryness blended perfectly with the flavor of the meat. Perfectly. She
said
brightlty, "Well, leave it to a foreigner to make Scottish food palatable."
Connor thought, there was the other shoe dropped. It was a damn left-handed
compliment is what it was, and Connor ground his back teeth together but
said
nothing. He didn't want his wife or his son to know just how much Elena
Duran
irritated him. How she had always--from the beginning--irritated him.
Duncan
already knew. In fact, if it hadn't been for Duncan in the middle ... But
she was
here with Duncan, and they were celebrating, and Connor was determined to be
a good host.
Alex glanced at Connor once, then answered, "Scottish food is not bad;
certainly
not any worse than American food. I've even tried haggis."
"Haggis ...," Elena said. "Oh, yes, sheep's internal organs minced with
onions
and oatmeal, and boiled inside its own stomach. Yummy," she declared, with
a
grimace.
"I've tried haggis," John said. "It's okay, as long as you don't think
about what
you're eating!"
"Yes, and you Argentines eat some pretty bloody beef innards at your
[asados],"
Duncan pointed out good-naturedly.
"Haggis is not bad," Alex persisted. "It's interesting, different, and
certainly ...
edible."
The MacLeods all sticking together against this--foreigner. Connor was
gratified
and smiled at his wife slightly. Dressed in white satin and sitting across
from him
at the other end of the table, she sparkled as much as the table did. The
candlelight glinted off her golden hair and softened her arched eyebrows and
high cheekbones, and he was glad that she was coming to the defense of
Scottish cuisine, and by extension, of him. Not that he needed anyone to
defend
him from--the bitch.
In contrast to the blonde Alex, Elena Duran was unremittingly dark, dressed
even
in a black turtleneck--no doubt to hide the scars at her neck--and a long
black
skirt. But she was beautiful--exotic, even, Connor had to admit--with her
high
cheekbones and thick black hair up in a pony tail at the crown of her head.
Her
hair was long enough to still flow past her shoulders, and the full effect
was to
give her Indian features a youthful,
innocent look, although he damn well knew she was neither.
In fact, the very first time he'd seen Elena, she'd been tying her hair
behind her
neck, getting ready to duel with him. He hadn't fought with her then, but
several
times since he wished he had. That very same night he met her, Elena Duran
had tried, under the influence of a Dark Quickening, to take Duncan's head.
She
had almost succeeded.
Connor had been furious, and had warned Duncan about the insanity of having
a
woman in his bed who was skilled with a blade and who had already tried to
kill
him. Twice. But Duncan was stubborn. And Duncan loved her. As if that
made
everything all right, Connor snorted to himself, than came back to the
present
conversation. Apparently Elena wasn't finished talking.
"Rat is interesting, and edible," Elena argued, smiling wickedly. "But I
wouldn't
make it into a national dish." She picked up her fork and knife and dug
into her
steak again.
"We don't eat rats, Elena," Duncan chided her softly, the corners of his
dark eyes
crinkling.
They were beautiful eyes, his best feature, Elena thought, and she smiled at
him.
Duncan was, by necessity, getting used to the near-constant sniping between
his
lover and his cousin. He also had a better sense of humor than Connor, and
was
used to her brand of teasing.
Connor was not amused and was not used to her teasing, especially not in his
own house, and not at his own table. He looked steadily at Elena, to make
sure
she knew he was referring to her, then finally contributed to the
conversation,
"Oh, but I know you have eaten rat, Duncan."
Duncan glanced at Connor sharply, then shook his head in slightly amused
defeat. But he said nothing.
"Ewww," John said, eyeing his uncle distastefully, pulling back away from
Duncan
exaggeratedly, and completely missing his father's double entendre. "That's
gross!" Then he looked across the table and asked, breathlessly, "Have
*you*
ever eaten a rat, Elena?"
Elena hadn't missed the elder Scot's insult, and when she turned to John
MacLeod, she was ready for battle. But John was at a vulnerable age, and
they
were here to celebrate his birthday, and she did like him. As much as she
enjoyed teasing Duncan, and didn't mind kidding Alex, and downright enjoyed
sparring--verbally--with Connor MacLeod, she knew to tread lightly with this
adolescent who hung onto every word she said and who had an obvious
pubescent crush on her.
So she changed the pitch of her voice, her attitude and her smile. "Not by
choice, [chico.] But eating rat is better than dying of hunger, eh?"
John leaned forward avidly, fascinated. "So then, as an Immortal ... you've
starved to death, Elena?"
"John...," Alex chided him.
"It's all right, Alex," Elena replied. <Of course I have, [nino,] and I'll
never
forget how starving felt. And I've eaten worse than rat, too.>
"Of course not," she answered him, giving him her full attention. She
wasn't
sure just how much John MacLeod knew about Immortals, but he obviously knew
the basics. However, she was not planning to add to his store of knowledge
if
she could help it. She brushed a loose strand of hair back from her face,
then
added, mischievously, "But I might if all I had to eat was haggis."
``````````
Alex put the last of the dishes away from the night before and smiled at
Elena,
who was openly studying her over the rim of her coffee cup. Connor had
bought
an Italian espresso maker especially for Elena's visit, and Duncan's lover
had
been very grateful and gracious about it.
The women were alone. An hour earlier, Connor and Duncan had left for their
morning run, and John had tagged along. On the day of their arrival Elena
had
declared: "a) I don't run; and 2) It's too cold to go outside. Except to
ride
horses."
Yesterday, Alex had run with the men, but today she'd decided that Elena was
right--it was too cold. Besides, she didn't want to leave her guest alone.
Duncan
was family, but Elena was a guest. And she had a third reason to stay. She
wanted to make up her own mind about Elena Duran. Especially after the
little
"haggis" incident of the night before.
Of course, Alex knew why Duncan was attracted to Elena. She was beautiful,
with cascading coal-black hair, mysterious grey eyes, and
cafe-au-lait-colored
skin. If Duncan thought Elena was too overly-muscular for a woman, he
hadn't
voiced that objection. Furthermore, Elena was intelligent and, when she
wanted
to be, charming. But she was also trouble.
Alex had met this type before. Elena couldn't leave anyone alone, and
enjoyed teasing, poking and prodding, pushing at everyone's weak spot,
getting
reactions from everyone around her. But she did it with such skill,
obviously
honed through constant practice throughout her long life. And she seemed to
be
so genuinely interested in the object of--well, in her
current victim--that the person in question couldn't help feeling a bit
flattered at
the same time.
Elena's charm worked quite well on Duncan, who relished the attention and
whose dark eyes got warmer and darker as he gazed at her. No question that
Duncan loved her. John was completely smitten by the Spanish-Indian
Immortal from Argentina--pure adolescent lust.
As for Alex herself, she liked Elena's liveliness, her confidence, her
independence;
the fact that she was not overwhelmed by the two strong MacLeod men. In
fact,
Alex was beginning to realize that strong personalities was a prerequisite
of
successful, old Immortals.
Connor certainly reacted to Elena's "strong" personality, but not in a
positive way. Alex had asked him about Elena the night before Duncan and
his lover had arrived.
//////////
Friday night, two nights before
Alex asks him, "Why don't you like Elena?"
Alex and Connor have just gotten into bed, in the wee hours when all
important communication between a man and woman usually takes place.
Connor puts his arms under the pillow behind his head and snorts. "Wait
until you meet her! She's arrogant and nasty."
Alex thinks about what Duncan had told her about his lover. "Duncan doesn't
think so."
"Duncan is in love with her. Although I can't imagine why," Connor answers,
then rises up on the bed and turns to look at Alex, resting his head on his
right hand. "Why are we talking about Elena Duran, anyway?"
"Because they'll be here tomorrow. If she's nasty to me, or John, how
should I handle it?" She sits up in bed. "I mean, is she dangerous? Do I
have to be careful around her? Might she hurt--"
"No, she won't hurt you or John," he reassures her. "That's not her style.
If I thought that, I wouldn't have invited her into my house, Duncan or no
Duncan. But she is dangerous. All Immortals are dangerous, and Elena is
skilled and unpredictable. However," he reaches for her hand and kisses it
softly, "I don't want you to worry."
He coaxes her to lie back down, then leans over to kiss her lips, lightly,
and Alex kisses him back. But an alarm has gone off in her head, and she
won't be put off. "Would she hurt *you* then? Fight you? With a sword?"
"I don't think so," he answers, shaking his head. He caresses her face
softly with the back of his hand, a smile on his face.
"Then ... you trust her." Alex feels her heart slow back down a little.
"More than most Immortals," he answers.
"But Connor, if she's dangerous--"
"Alex, I'm not worried. She loves Duncan, I know that much. But I don't
think she herself wants to challenge me; she wouldn't come here as a guest
otherwise. She's too direct--she'd tell me to my face, and we'd fight.
She has no reason to do that, and several reasons not to."
"She's afraid to challenge you?" she asks.
He shakes his head. "She's not going to challenge me."
<She's not afraid of Connor. That could be good or bad.> "But you told me
there can be only one," Alex argues. <Connor says he isn't worried, but
...>
"In the end, yes. But many Immortals live together, sometimes for
centuries, as
friends, lovers. Like Duncan and Elena."
Alex thinks this over, but there's still something missing. Connor doesn't
hide Immortal business from her--not any more, not if she asks--but he
doesn't exactly volunteer information, either. While she's thinking about
what he hasn't said, Connor is playing with her hair, smelling it, rubbing
her scalp softly, distracting her, then working his way down with soft
little kisses from her hairline to her left temple to the corner of her eye,
her cheekbone, her jawline ....
Duncan and Elena! she realizes suddenly. She turns her face to him, and he
immediately claims her mouth for a long, sensuous kiss, shifting his weight
so he's partially lying on top of her. But she breaks her mouth free, and
says, "Wait, Connor," and pushes against his chest.
He moves back slightly, immediately, panting slightly, but their mouths are
still only an inch apart. So close that she can see how dark his irises
are.
But she has to know. "Duncan and Elena," she says. "Something happened
between them, and that's why you don't like Elena."
"Alex...," he begins. Then he lies down on his back again, looking up at
the ceiling.
She's hit a sore point now, and she relentlessly pursues it, sitting up in
bed again. "What happened, Connor?"
Silence.
"Connor?"
He sighs. "When Elena and Duncan first met, there was a challenge. But
that's normal, for Immortals. I don't necessarily hold that against her."
Not necessarily? But when he doesn't continue, she prompts him. "Then
what?"
"Then, another time, she had what we call a 'Dark Quickening.' That's when
the 'soul,' if you like, of an Immortal you've ... beheaded had such a
strong personality that he overpowers your own will."
Alex absorbs this for a moment. In muted tones, she asks him, "Has this
ever happened to you?"
"No."
<Good, he's sure.>
"Not exactly," he clarifies. "Certainly not forced me to attack someone I
love," he states firmly, turning his face to her.
It hits her hard. "Oh, my God! Elena tried to take Duncan's head, didn't
she?" Alex asks, more than a little horrified.
"Yes," he says simply.
Alex tries to digest this unpalatable bit of news, but she's confused. By
his own account, Connor shouldn't hold this against Elena. She's pretty
sure Duncan has no grudge against Elena; they wouldn't be lovers otherwise.
Duncan is too honest for such a Machiavellian relationship. "But you said
her will was subsumed, overpowered. Then she couldn't control her own
actions?"
"No, she couldn't."
For a moment she looks down on him in silence. "Then it wasn't her fault,
Connor. You can't blame her for that."
"Maybe not," he grudgingly agrees, his voice tight. "But she still did it.
She ambushed him in his own home, Alex, and I got to watch."
Alex draws away slightly from his cold anger. "But ... she didn't--"
"Duncan stopped her, with a kitchen knife through her heart."
Alex winces at that image. And yet, from what Connor himself has told her,
he's being unfair to Elena. "Connor, if she wasn't responsible, and if
Duncan has forgiven her, why can't you?"
Connor takes a deep breath. "Duncan would not be so eager to forgive her if
she'd attacked me instead of him."
Alex can see the sense in that. It's easier to forgive someone who hurts
you than to forgive someone who hurts a person you love. "But if you don't
like her, you don't trust her, and you can't forgive her, Connor--why
invite her here?"
He shrugs. "She's with Duncan. I'm not worried."
<And you don't want her or Duncan to think you're afraid to have her here.>
Well, she decides, considering how protective Connor is of her and John, he
must
really not be worried. "Good," she says. "Then I'm not worried either."
Connor sits back up. "Good. So--are we finished talking about Elena
Duran now?" he asks her.
"Yes," Alex replies, with an exasperated yet gratified smile. The man is
relentless, and she loves this about him.
"Very good." Smiling back, he softly pushes Alex down on the bed.