New fanfic: HIS BETTER HALF: An Elena Duran Story 2/8
Vi Moreau (vmoreau@ADELPHIA.NET)
Sun, 3 Jun 2001 04:58:56 -0400
HIS BETTER HALF: An Elena Duran Story 2/8
by Vi Moreau
vmoreau@adelphia.net
for thanks and disclaimers, see part 0
Sunday morning
Well, her relatively quiet household had certainly been transformed
overnight by
Duncan and Elena's arrival. After the conversation Alex had had about Elena
with Connor, Alex wanted to hear Elena's side, if she could. Connor
actively
disliked Elena, and he had told Alex to be careful around Elena, and why.
But
Alex had a theory that there was more to it, and she she wanted to try to
find
out, from the horse's mouth, so to speak.
Elena's morning routine was to drink her obligatory, addictive first cup of
espresso--the consistency of light mud--then go into the exercise room
for some tai chi, aerobics, weightlifting, katas. This morning Alex stayed
with her.
The first day of her arrival, Elena had shown Alex some simple tai chi
breathing
exercises, "To help you endure Connor when he gets too impossible," Elena
had
said, with a wicked smile.
This morning after coffee, as they sprinted--Elena was too cold to just
walk--to the exercise room over the stables, Alex reflected that Elena
devoted as much time to keeping in shape as the MacLeods did. Considering
the Game, they had no choice, did they?
When Alex had followed Connor to Scotland, before they'd even become lovers,
he had reluctantly told her details about the Game. And this was after Alex
had met Kane, had sensed the menace in that madman personally, and had seen
Connor and Kane fight at the Japanese house in New York. But it was only
later, after Kane had kidnapped John to get to Connor, that Alex had truly
realized what a horror this innocently-named Game was.
("So ... you're always a target? Always looking over your shoulder?"
"Yes."
"Like with Kane?"
"Like Kane, yes.")
The women had warmed up, lifted some weights--and now Alex was puffing
away on the stationary bicycle while listening to, ironically, Duran-Duran
on her headphones. She was also watching Elena, and now the Immortal was
apparently finished with her jump rope and was cooling down by jogging in
place.
Elena shed her white sweat top, revealing a red exercise bra underneath.
She took off her Reeboks and socks, then went to the weight bench and picked
up her sword. Alex unconsciously slowed down her pedaling as Elena stood at
attention in the center of the room and slowly, like ripples in a stream
flowing in the sunlight, pulled the shining blade out of its scabbard.
Alex had watched Connor do sword katas before, and she had always admired
his grace and skill. She'd seen Duncan, too, once, all power, fluidity and
muscle. Now was her chance to see Elena do a kata.
Elena put the scabbard down and began by kissing the sword hilt where it
formed a cross, murmuring something Alex didn't quite make out, with the
word [Diois]--God--in it. <A prayer?>
Alex paused her pedaling, then finally stopped, turning off her music,
mesmerized by Elena's exercise. The sweat glistened on Elena's dark skin,
and for the next few minutes the only sounds in the gym were her harsh
breathing, the swish of her blade as it fluidly cut through the dust motes
dancing in the air, illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through the
windows. The kata was not so much a form as a flowing dance. Alex found it
achingly beautiful.
Finally it was over, and Elena joined Alex in a cool-down and some
stretches.
"That was so beautiful, Elena," Alex said, holding on to her ankles and
breathing into her stretch.
"Gracias," Elena answered with a nod of acknowledgment. "It's an ancient
kata, taught to me by O'Sensei. Shall we take a few cleansing breaths now?"
"O'Sensei. Is that the Japanese Aikido master?" Alex asked, when they had
finished breathing. "You studied with him? A woman? A foreigner, a
[gaijin?]"
Elena chuckled. She had forgotten that Alex had worked a dig in Japan. In
fact, that's how Alex had met Connor MacLeod, when her anthropological team
had "accidentally" dug up the Immortal Kane. "It's a long story, but yes, I
was his student for twenty years after the second World War."
Alex still wondered how Elena had managed the considerable feat of getting
the Japanese [sensei] to take her on as a student, but wasn't going to pry
any
further.
Elena wiped her face with a towel and put her sweatshirt and shoes back on.
When the women were finished with their workout, they drank some water and
then rushed across the yard, back through the walled garden and into the
kitchen. Elena put her sheathed sword on one of the counters. Ordinarily,
Alex would have been nervous at having such an obvious weapon openly
accessible, especially with a curious teenage boy in the house. However,
even the arrogant and overconfident Elena Duran was extremely careful with
her sword.
"We'll wait for the guys and have breakfast with them," Alex suggested.
"Fine, as long as I can have more coffee now," Elena said, shuddering from
even the short distance across to the house. She peered out the kitchen
window and murmured, "They'll be freezing when they come back."
"I think they can take it," Alex smiled. "Plus, we can warm them up."
Elena looked at Alex with amusement. "I hate to be touched with cold hands,
though."
"Duncan's wearing gloves," Alex pointed out slyly, and Elena smirked.
Smiling back, Alex washed her hands, then took some onions, potatoes and
garlic out of the pantry and put them on a chopping block on the kitchen
table. The night before Elena had given her a recipe for a Spanish omelet,
called a [tortilla,] and this morning she was going to try it. They could
eat other things than Scottish food. She started chopping the onions and
asked Elena, "Is it difficult, being a woman Immortal?"
When Elena didn't answer right away, sipping at her dark brew, Alex said,
"If I'm intruding--"
"No, not at all," Elena replied. "I'm just thinking about it." She knew
Alex MacLeod had something on her mind, perhaps something to do with the
previous evening's "entertainment," and she had been waiting. If Alex
wanted to talk about women Immortals, fine with Elena. That was as good a
place to start as any. Sooner or later, Elena knew they'd talk about
Connor.
Elena said, "It's only difficult if I think it's difficult. We fight with
our heads, you know. Men or women are the same." She paused and smiled.
"I believe Connor would disagree, however. About the men and women part."
Alex thought about what Connor had told her the night before. Now she
wanted to hear Elena's side of it. She started chopping the potatoes and
said, "You don't like Connor, do you?"
Elena smiled. Alex was very direct. Fine--Elena could do direct. "No,"
she answered.
Alex had not expected quite such forthrightness--she was impressed and
pleased. <Now we're getting somewhere.> "And he doesn't like you," she
said, no question in her tone this time.
Elena shrugged. This was no secret. "It does seem to be mutual."
Alex looked at Elena very carefully before adding, "Connor is usually a good
judge of character."
Elena chuckled again, putting down her coffee cup and nodding softly. <One
point for you, Alex MacLeod. Beautiful, smart, bold--Connor doesn't favor
weaklings in his women. Let's see what else you got.> "Is he?" Elena
asked,
then came closer to Alex, well aware of the knife in Alex's hand, but still
leaning
against the kitchen table and getting inside the famous Yanquee zone of
privacy
that Richie had told her about.
("I know it's different in South America, but if you get this close to a
North American, Elena, you make him uncomfortable, maybe even nervous,"
Richie had said.)
Elena had known that from before, and now she wondered if she was making
Alex MacLeod uncomfortable or nervous. If so, Alex was hiding it well. "So
tell me, Alex, are *you* a good judge of character? Or do you generally
abide by your husband's opinions?"
Alex refused to budge, physically or figuratively. She looked away from
Elena and picked up another potato, started chopping. "I make my own
judgments. And I do like you, Elena, even if Connor doesn't."
"Good. I'm glad to see you make up your own mind about things." Elena gave
Alex some space by moving to the kitchen counter to refill her cup. She
glanced into the living room, where Connor had started another fire this
morning before they'd left. He was a considerate host and a kind husband,
no doubt about it.
Elena needed a shower--the drying sweat felt a little cold on her skin,
and she wanted to move closer to the fire. But right now she was more
interested in continuing her conversation with this interesting wife of
Connor's. So she sat at the kitchen table and waited.
Meanwhile Alex had finished chopping the potatoes and put them, the onions
and some spices into a pre-heated pan with some olive oil. Leaving it on
low heat to simmer, she poured herself a cup of regular coffee and joined
her guest at the table.
She wasn't about to tell Elena she knew about her trying to behead Duncan.
But Alex thought maybe Connor had another reason; now was a good time to
see if she'd picked the right place to dig. "You're right about Connor, in
a
way," she said, continuing their previous conversation. "He is a bit of a
chauvinist. He's not used to dealing with women as equals. Not even
Immortal ones," she added, smiling.
"And you think that's the reason he doesn't like me," Elena said. "Because
he's a man, and therefore *superior.*" It was probably partially true. But
the main reason Connor didn't like her, Elena knew, was because on two
occasions she'd tried to take Duncan's head by her own hand. Then there was
a third time, when the Japanese Immortal Hosokawa had almost beheaded
Duncan because of her ... But Elena was not about to tell Alex about any of
this.
Duncan had forgiven Elena. Connor would not; or could not.
"He was taught that men and women have their separate places," Alex said.
"But, you must admit, it is kind of sweet, the way he's so ... protective,"
Alex said.
"I know about men and women. Remember that 'macho' is a Spanish word. I
was taught the same thing," Elena said dryly, draining her coffee cup and
putting it down on the table. "I got over it. And what you mean is
*over*protective. As for being sweet ..." She let that sentence hang, not
wanting to lie to Alex if she could help it. Connor MacLeod had never been
sweet to her.
<I'm not being fair!> "Look, even if I don't like him, I do trust him,"
Elena finally
said. "I feel safe here,"--from him, she didn't say out loud--"in his
house, under
his roof; and he trusts me with his wife and son. Trust among Immortals is
... a
rare, delicate flower: easy to kill; difficult to sustain; and wonderful to
have."
Alex could see how serious Elena was. "Then there are the old laws of
hospitality, too," she added.
"Yes. I am his guest, and Connor MacLeod is a man of honor."
Alex took a deep breath. Elena is dangerous, Connor had said. "The laws of
hospitality hold for the guest as well as the host, Elena. Are you a woman
of honor?"
Elena looked at Alex closely, slightly surprised. <Bold indeed.> "Yes, I
am,
Alex. And I give you my word of honor," she said, earnestly, leaning
toward the other woman. "I'm not here to challenge Connor, or to hurt him.
Or you or John," she added. "Connor knows this, or I wouldn't be here."
Alex met Elena's gaze, studying her in turn. Finally she said, "Now I know
it, too. Thank you."
They waited a moment while the tension bled into the air. Then the living
room clock chimed the hour, startling them both, a little. Elena said,
with a smile, "But he is annoying and overbearing."
Alex laughed. "At times, all men can be obnoxious. Don't you find Duncan
sometimes--"
"Overprotective? Know-it-all? Arrogant? Macho?" The two women shared a
laugh. "Nah! Never! Not my Duncan!" Elena declared, giggling.
"But you have to admit, you do especially pick on Connor," Alex said, in
what she considered was a reasonable defense of her husband. But it was a
mistake.
"Pick on him? *Pick* on him?" Elena stood abruptly, walked a few paces,
then turned back to Alex. She struck her own forehead with the heel of her
hand. "Of course, I hadn't realized it before! I pick on Connor MacLeod!
I'm so mean, such a bully!" she said, melodramatically.
Alex rolled her eyes.
"As soon as Connor comes back, I'll throw myself at his feet and beg his
forgiveness. On my knees! I hadn't realized he was so fragile! I'll ..."
She sat back down and gripped Alex's forearm, squeezing it. "I'll make it
right, Alex. I promise," she said, in mock earnestness.
Alex had a vision of Elena doing just that, kneeling in front of Connor,
overdramatizing, and it made her laugh. She shook her head. "Elena--"
"I really mean it! But you know, you must talk to him, too, about--"
Elena stopped talking as the overwhelming sense of an Immortal hit her, a
penetrating blow to the back of her head. They were back, too bad. She'd
have to finish this very entertaining conversation with Alex later.
"About what?" Alex prompted.
"Oh, I was thinking of John," Elena said, getting up again and strolling
over to the kitchen windows, wanting to be sure it was Duncan and Connor
returning. What was that phrase about there being no old, bold pilots?
Well, there were also no old, careless Immortals. She saw no one. Yet.
Maybe they were coming from the other side of the house? "I'm just afraid
that that the MacLeods will try to raise John to be the same. You know,
macho. Unless you interfere, of course," she smiled at Alex knowingly. As
she spoke she bent slightly to get a better view out the window.
Alex suddenly realized what was going on. "Ah!" she exclaimed, following
Elena. <That Immortal radar of theirs.> "Are they coming back?"
Elena called her over to the window, where Alex was already headed.
"[Veni,]" Elena said, waving Alex closer. "Come here." Because now there
*was* someone there, a tall, dark-haired man, hawk-nosed and grim and
wearing a signature long leather coat, walking down the path toward the
door.
An Immortal.