The Last Time We First Met - Part Nine
by: Denise Underwood
c. 2001
Triona set down her wineglass, looking at LaCroix surreptitiously from
under her lashes. He had returned home early in the evening, four days
after her *incident*. They had eaten dinner in his suite, catching up on
the last week.
The last few mornings had been hell. In the end she had decided not to test
Methos' resolve and had shown up as ordered. Well, almost. She had shown up
at six thirty instead. Methos didn't remark on her minor rebellion, merely
handing her a sword and beginning their bout.
At least their sessions hadn't been like the afternoon he'd beaten her into
the ground with his sword. He was actually making an attempt to teach her
something of use, not just teach her a lesson. But he was cutting her no
slack. Any hesitation Methos had in teaching her when she had first become
Immortal had disappeared.
Now, she had to tell LaCroix what had happened while he had been away --
and she dreaded it. Methos' reactions might still be an enigma, but she
could bet sure money on how LaCroix would react.
A yawn escaped; it was late and it had been a *very* long day. And it's
about to get even longer, she sighed to herself.
LaCroix leaned across the table, kissing her softly. "You should have told
me you were so tired, my dear." He stroked her long wavy hair with one
hand. "I would have made sure you were in bed long ago." He kissed her
again, this time not so softly.
Triona let herself forget for just a few moments the unpleasantness to
come, drowning in his kiss. She missed him so much when they were apart.
Missed the comfort of his mental touch nearby, missed the stability of his
presence. The almost two years she had been away, training with Duncan, had
been almost unbearable and she was still trying to make up for it.
Still kissing her, LaCroix stood, lifting her with him, moving back towards
the bedroom. Regretfully, she broke the kiss, drawing away. "I have to talk
to you -- tonight."
If he was surprised, he didn't comment. "Very well," he said, sitting back
down.
Hanging her head, Triona began to speak, "I did something stupid while you
were gone. If it hadn't been for Methos, I'd be dead." Not to mention
Baker, LaCroix's butler, immediately telling Methos where he'd dropped her
off after returning to the estate.
LaCroix sat very straight in his chair at that, but didn't interrupt.
In unstinting detail, she told him about her misadventure, offering no
excuses, only facts. Finally she was finished and she waited for the
explosion, stomach churning.
"You have told me what you did, but not why," he commented quietly.
Triona looked at him with startled eyes. He wanted to know why? He never
wanted excuses. The question was so unexpected, she didn't know what to say.
"I would like to know, child."
She looked up, meeting his eyes, surprised not to see the displeasure, the
disappointment, she had expected. Dropping her eyes, she began quietly, "I
couldn't take it any more. You, Methos.... Since the others left it's
become almost unbearable." Now she had started, it all came pouring out. "I
thought it would be different, that I'd be free, finally. But I'm more a
prisoner than I ever was. And I see all the time I have ahead of me being
like this.... It wasn't supposed to be this way," she whispered brokenly.
The next thing she knew, she was enfolded in LaCroix's strong embrace. "No,
it wasn't," he sighed. "And I should have realized how unhappy you have
been. I failed you."
"You didn't fail me, Lucien. I didn't want you to know, didn't want to add
to your regret over my condition. And Methos has been so angry, I don't
think he has ever really been able to accept what happened. I don't know if
he ever will." Triona buried her head against the silk of his shirt, just
wanting him to hold her. She had only ever told her sisters how she really
felt, and that only just after they became Immortal. It had been her secret
sorrow for almost three years.
"And his long-simmering anger has found outlet in this incident," LaCroix
stated.
She nodded. "It doesn't excuse what I did. He was right; it was selfish of
me. I never considered how you would feel if something had happened to me.
But he was so...enraged. Methos has never frightened me before," she said
softly. "I thought...I thought he might use this as an excuse to leave for
good."
This time, as LaCroix stroked her hair, it was to comfort. "And do you
think that's what he wants? To have an excuse to leave our family... to
leave you?"
Triona shook her head against his chest. "I...I don't know. I've seen the
way he looks at me sometimes. When he thinks I'm not aware. It's like he
doesn't know who I am. Maybe he doesn't want to know." She laughed
bitterly. "This isn't what he expected when he decided to stay with us;
with me. It's not like we're married. There is no 'for better or worse',
nothing tying him here. He can just walk away -- something he's very good
at." The level of hostility in her voice surprised both of them.
"You're angry with him, for not accepting you, aren't you?" Triona didn't
answer, getting to her feet, not looking at him. "And you resent him for
that." It wasn't a question, not really. It was more of a revelation -- to
both of them.
Triona, her back still to him, hunched over, nodding. Suddenly she whirled,
a pained look flashing across her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered,
dropping to her knees at his feet. "Methos is right, I am a spoiled brat."
At the vampire's look of confusion, she continued, "I have you. You've
always accepted me for who I am, all of me, the good and the bad. You love
me. And how do I repay that? By weeping over another man. Over what I can't
have from him that you've given me unstintingly." Taking his hands, she
looked up at him beseechingly. "Can you forgive me?"
"There is nothing to forgive. There never was." LaCroix leaned down,
brushing away the tears on her face with his lips. "You love him. And he
loves you, despite his reservations about your new nature." At the look of
doubt in her eyes, he sharpened his voice, asking, "Have I ever lied to you?"
Triona knew an answer was required. Shaking her head, she said, "No."
Nodding in satisfaction, he stood, drawing her up with him. "I'll speak to
Methos, if you like?" She nodded. "As for your enforced *lessons*, those
will stand." He smiled a little at the look of rebelliousness that flashed
in her eyes. "I think it is a fitting punishment and will do quite well
till I decide what action to take myself."
He cut off her protest with a stern "Triona." She fell silent, but still
glared at him, her arms crossed tight across her chest. "Unless you'd
prefer me to decide now?" he asked, a warning note in his voice.
"No," she said, shaking her head in defeat.
"I thought not," he said smugly. "In that case..." He drew her closer, his
hands running down her back to press her against him. "You can always show
me just how much you do love me," he said, his voice now as gentle as it
had been stern a few moments before.
Triona smiled up at him. This time she had no objections as his lips met
hers....
*********
