"The Oak and the Ash" (5/9) by Parda August 2004 CHAPTER 3 - CHANGES (continued) ===== Connor woke in the middle of the night as he always did, a habit from his boyhood days, when the fire needed to be stoked or the animals tended to. He padded silently to the bathroom, got a drink and took a leak, then returned to bed, curling up against Alex's back so they lay like two spoons close together in a drawer. She murmured in her sleep and shifted against him. He held her closer, breathing in the clean familiar fragrance of her hair and wondering how he could have been so blind. No, not blind, he realized, just looking in the wrong direction. Ever since the accident, he'd taken care to reassure her about her injuries, but he'd forgotten about her age. He shouldn't have; he'd seen this self-doubt in women before. "How can you want me when I'm so old?" Anne had said to him. She had been only forty-three, but she had thought him to be no more than twenty-five. Heather had been about Alex's age when she had cut off her hair, then picked out each and every gray strand so she could give him the pure gold. "I want you to remember me as I used to be, Connor," she'd said as she'd handed him the braided remains. "Not as I am now. Not as I will be." Men often judged women on their youth and beauty, but women were the harshest judges of all, especially on themselves. It had taken time and perseverance, but Connor had convinced both Heather and Anne that he did love them, that he did want them--both emotionally and physically--no matter what their age. Connor was going to convince Alex, too. She just needed more reassurance, and he would give that to her in the morning, and every single day from now on. Not with sex, not right away. She obviously wasn't in the mood. "Yes, if you want to," she'd said, and Connor had realized that she didn't want to. Oh, she'd said yes because she loved him, because it was their tradition after a fight, but he wanted her to want him, and she didn't, not tonight, and not for the last few months. Connor understood that now. When Cassandra had been in therapy, she hadn't wanted anyone to touch her at all, not for years. Thank God Alex's problems weren't as serious. He would be patient and understanding, and they would talk more in the morning, and eventually, things would be fine. He kissed the top of Alex's head, told her, "I love you," and went back to sleep. ~~~~~ When Connor woke at dawn, Alex was gone. "I went for a walk," she told him on the phone, when he finally tracked her down at work. "In the dark?" "The sun was coming up. I needed to get outside, Connor." "Yeah." He paced between the window and the wall. "How about I take you out to lunch today?" "Connor ... I'm really busy here. We're leaving tomorrow for the dig, I've got a million things to do, and the travel permits for two of the interns haven't come yet, and ..." "Right." Connor knew how much Alex prided herself on doing a good job. He couldn't kick that part of her self-esteem away from her, too. "I'll make you dinner tonight then. Thai food, the way you like it--really hot." The silence lasted for a count of five. "I might be late," Alex said. "I'll keep it warm in the oven." "Really late." "What time?" Silence, for a count of three. "I don't know." Someone shouted for Dr. Johnson in the background, and Alex said, "I'm sorry, Connor. I have to go." "I love you," Connor said, but he was talking to a dead phone. Alex got home at ten-thirty that evening, ate a few bites and told him it was wonderful, then apologized for being too tired to eat. They went to bed, where she turned down his offer of a massage, rolled over on her side, and promptly went to sleep. In the morning she was out of bed and dressed by 5:45. "Coffee?" she suggested. Connor nodded, then said to hell with shaving, wiped his face clean, and followed her downstairs. "Alex--" "Just a minute," she called, punching buttons on the microwave oven to warm up a muffin. He poured them both coffee and handed her a mug. "Thanks," she said and got out the eggs. Connor walked over and took the carton out of her hands. "We need to talk, Alex." "And I need to eat, Connor," she told him and took the eggs back. "I'm starving, and I have to leave by 6:15." Twenty-three minutes she'd given him. Twenty-three minutes to find out how she'd changed, to convince her that appearance didn't matter to him, to heal the hurts of the days before. Alex was already busy scrambling eggs. "You want some?" "Yeah." Connor set the table, and they sat down to eat at 6:02. "I wish we had more time," he told her. Alex glanced up, smiled, and took another bite of her eggs before she said, "So do I." "I could join you at--" "No," she said immediately. "No. Please, Connor, don't. I don't think that will help. I'm going to be busy with work and--" "--and I'll get in the way," Connor finished, and Alex said nothing to that. Connor pushed his plate aside and stared at her across the table, waiting. She put her mug down. "Connor, I know this morning is bad timing for us, but I've been looking forward to this dig for over a year. I've been preparing for it for months. It's an important dig, and I'm in charge, and I want to do a good job." "I know," he said evenly. "But maybe you can tell me why I'm getting the feeling that if you weren't flying to Spain today, you'd be looking for some other reason to leave." She closed her eyes briefly and sighed. "Connor ... I know we have more to talk about, and we will, I promise. I'm not done with my therapy, either. But I need to sort things out, and I think maybe this separation will actually be good for us. I need time to myself." "On a dig with fifty other people, where you're going to be insanely busy because you're in charge, you're going to find time for yourself," he said, a sarcastic snipe aimed straight at that lie. "All right," Alex said coolly, an almost hostile challenge in her eyes, as she gave him the truth he wanted with all the bluntness of an atomic bomb. "I need time away from you." "Damn it, Alex! You can't--" She was already on her feet. "I have to leave. I'm sorry, Connor. I didn't want it to be this way, not this morning, not right before I go." Neither had he. "Hey, MacLeod," she said softly, and Connor looked up to see her standing by his chair, her eyes filled with tears. "I love you, Connor." "I was beginning to wonder." "Don't," she said firmly and leaned over to kiss him the same way. "Don't ever wonder about that. I love you. I just ... need some time," she said again. "I'll write to you, everyday." "Phone calls?" "No," she said softly. "Not now. Not yet. Please don't push me, OK?" A woman's prerogative, Connor reminded himself grimly. They got to choose, which meant men got to pursue, but not hound. "OK," he finally agreed then added a reminder of what she'd chosen years before, standing to take her in his arms and hold her close. After a moment, she relaxed against him and hugged him, too. "I love you, Mrs. MacLeod," he told her, and kissed her finger just above her wedding ring. "I love you, too, Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod." She smiled and kissed him again, then wiped away her tears, grabbed her muffin, and was out the door. Connor went straight to her office upstairs. It took him a while to find what he wanted--Alex wasn't the neatest of people on the best of days--but eventually he got the records he was looking for: weekly payments over the last month and a half, made out to one Jennifer Corans, presumably the white-haired therapist of the dark blue coat. He called his detective agency and set them on her trail, because Connor wanted to know just what kind of person Alex had brought into their marriage--into their bed--and he needed to know what Alex had told the therapist about them ... and about him. Immortality wasn't a secret that could be shared. And he was damned curious to know what this Corans woman had been telling his wife. Connor wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He went downstairs, cleaned up from breakfast, and threw the Thai food away. ====== (continued in part 6)