Copyright 1999

CHAPTER TWO

The apartment door opened so forcefully it slammed into the wall and bounced back. Cassandra was already past it and into the living room, so she was in no danger of getting hit by the rebound. She carried a long coat in her hand and tossed it abruptly on the couch back. She was wearing a calf length dark brown skirt in a summery material and a rust colored sleeveless top.

The door was slightly ajar, and as Cassandra stalked over to the window, another woman pushed it open further and walked in. She closed the door behind her. She carried a similar coat and placed it on top of Cassandra's on the couch. She was dressed in a black calf length skirt, matching soft black top with elbow length full sleeves and black ankle high moccasins. There were a couple of rents in the shirt, with dried blood surrounding the openings. She leaned her hands on the couch back and hung her head. Other than a slight similarity in clothing, the two women were a study in contrasts. Cassandra, much taller with her dark hair curling softly around her shoulders, stood rigid with obvious anger at the window. The other woman was just over 5 foot tall with dark auburn hair in a braid reaching nearly to her waist. She leaned as if exhausted against the couch.

Without turning, voice quivering with barely suppressed rage, Cassandra began to speak, "Gwena, why didn't you, at some point in the last 1200 years, tell me you knew Methos? How could you keep something like that from me? You knew what he did to me! All the conversations we've had in the last few months about forgiveness...you could have told me the reason you wanted me to forgive him was because you knew him!"

Cassandra turned to face the smaller woman as she straightened up. Gwena looked at Cassandra increduously. "Methos! What are you talking about? I have *never* met Methos! I would have never kept something like that from you. You know I couldn't do that!"

The two women stared at one another. Cassandra searched the telepathic bond between them and found Gwena told the truth. Cassandra sank onto the window ledge with a puzzled frown, "Then why was he calling your name?"

"Cass, that man tonite was Aidan! I told you about him. He was the immortal I was living with before..". The realization hit both woman simultaneously.

"No, it can't be!" Cassandra shook her head in denial.

"Oh, Goddess, no, Aidan is ... Methos." Gwena finished in a whisper, as she slid down the couch back to the floor.

Cassandra shook her head in disbelief, stepped forward to drop into a nearby armchair, and started to laugh with a touch of hysteria evident in her voice. "You mean, the man I have hated for 3 millenia is the same man you've loved for over 1300 years! We both figured each was dead. The last 7 months since I found out Methos still lived we've talked of practically nothing else and never even knew ...! The irony is priceless!" Cassandra's laughter faded as she studied Gwena sitting hunched on the floor. She had wrapped her arms around her legs with her chin resting on her knees. She was staring off into space at only something she could see. Cassandra spoke slowly, reluctantly, "Ever since I've returned from Bordeaux, you've said I needed healing and closure, to release the bitterness. Except, I thought I already had until I saw Methos again. You've been insisting it would be for my own good. Now it seems as if I have no choice. I can't continue to hate someone you still love. With our bond, if I don't learn to forgive, it'll tear us apart. And that's the one and only thing I will not do in the name of revenge. No matter what it takes."

Gwena lifted her head and turned to face Cassandra. She couldn't bring herself to meet her eyes, so she gazed over Cassandra's shoulder at the night sky visible through the window. "No, what was between Aidan . . . Methos", she stopped, sighed, shook her head and continued, "anyway, between the two of us was all a very long time ago and isn't important anymore. You have to forgive for your own sake and of your own volition. What's important is Aidan being Methos means Duncan was right. He's not the same man you knew. He changed a long time ago." Gwena stared at Cassandra intensely. "Cass, he's been making amends for over 1,300 years, at least! The man I knew was kind, gentle, loving and considerate. I lived with him for 96 years! He couldn't have fooled *me* for that long. I knew then he had demons in his past. I knew he'd done things he was ashamed of. But he'd changed. And without the benefit of a light quickening like Darius."

Cassandra got up and restlessly paced over to the fireplace to stare into the empty space. "We've been over this endlessly for the last seven months. I know what you say is true and I am trying, but I don't think I am ready to forgive and forget."

"You will never forget, Cass, and forgiveness doesn't mean you have to be friends or spend time with him. We've talked a lot about whether you'd even need to actually face him to be able to forgive and move on. Maybe seeing him now is an omen, a sign that you need to confront him to release the burden you've carried for so long." Gwena got up slowly and walked over to her soulfriend. Putting her arms around Cassandra's waist from behind, Gwena laid her cheek against her back and felt her sigh. Gwena continued, "And maybe, anamchara, I'm here now to help you with this the same way you helped me." Both women felt silent remembering the way they met.

*******************
765 c.e., Ireland.

Cassandra stopped at the base of another tree. Using her knife, she dug up another root. As she straightened up to place it in the satchel she carried, she was hit by the faint sensation of an immortal. She froze momentarily, setting the bag down, and then slowly drew her sword from the harness slung across her back. Cassandra opened her senses and realized the feeling was either a pre-immortal or one currently dead.

Curiosity and recent feelings of lonliness combined to propel her to search the area. When she pushed aside the branches of a bush, Cassandra discovered what appeared to be an older girl or young teen lying curled into a fetal position in the dirt. Her face was hidden by long, dirty, matted hair. Cassandra knelt down to study her closer. It was hard to tell height from her position but Cassandra estimated she was only about five feet tall. It was easily apparent that the cause of mortal death was starvation. Through the torn, threadbare, filthy clothing, Cassandra could see the girl's ribs poking painfully through the nearly translucent skin.

~~It's summer. There's food plentiful all around. How could she starve?~~

Before she could investigate further, Cassandra felt the surge of returning life in the immortal before her. Cassandra sat back on her heels to wait. She put her sword away knowing this frail girl would not be a danger in her condition. With a gasp and shudder life returned. As the girl became aware of the presence of Cassandra, she started scrambling away from her on all fours.

"It's okay. I'm here to help." Cassandra kept her voice unthreatening and soothing.

The girl came to a stop with her back against a tree. The long tangled hair fell over her face. Cassandra caught a glimpse of shining eyes through the mats, dirt and leaves. The witch was struck with the feeling of feral wildness.

As the girl watched suspiciously, Cassandra reached slowly for the bundle that held her lunch. She continued to talk slowly and gently, even as she realized the child probably didn't understand a word spoken.

Cassandra projected a sense of calm toward the frightened girl as she held out a piece of bread to her. Those wild, shining eyes fastened on the food.

"It's okay. I won't hurt you. This would taste good, wouldn't it." Cassandra murmured softly. She continued to mentally focus a sense of safety, trying to get the girl to trust her. Keeping her movements slow and unthreatening, she stretched her arm out closer. The bread was snatched out of her hand and the youngster retreated again. She moved so swiftly Cassandra was startled. She should have sensed the intention before she moved. She wondered if the child had a natural mental block or some magical training.

As the bread disappeared, Cassandra sat back on her heels and tried to decide what to do next. She couldn't just leave. There was no telling how many times this poor wild creature had already died. It was obvious she couldn't take care of herself, so someone had to do it for her. It was going to take some time to get her to trust Cassandra. With a sigh she started setting up a makeshift camp. She was aware of eyes following her every move. The girl still hadn't spoken or made a sound. Wanting to give her a name to establish a connection, Cassandra decided to call her Mary.

The moon had gone from full to dark before Cassandra was able to get the young immortal to follow her back to her cabin. It had gone to quarter moon before Cassandra was able to coax Mary into the shallows of the river to bathe.

That's when Cassandra finally realized the immortal she thought was only a young girl was truly a short, but full grown woman. They had been approximately the same age at first death. Three weeks of eating well had filled out Mary's small frame.

When Cassandra washed the woman's filthy hair and combed it out in the afternoon summer sun, she discovered it was a rich dark auburn. It hung past Mary's hips, so Cassandra braided the clean dry hair into one long braid to keep it out of her face.

Cassandra found Mary would do what ever she was shown, but wouldn't initiate anything on her own. If left alone she would sit and stare at nothing for hours. Cassandra tried many things over the next year in an attempt to get her to talk or respond, with little success. She figured Mary had suffered a severe trauma. Cassandra finally came to hope that time and care would eventually accomplish the healing that Mary needed.

The worst times seemed to come at night. Mary would wake screaming and crying. In the beginning when this happened, she would cower away from Cassandra and even strike out. As time passed Mary began to allow Cassandra to comfort her. Cassandra would rock her and sing softly until Mary fell asleep again.

One day, nearly a year after Cassandra found Mary, they were sitting in a clearing. Cassandra was talking about the plants in the field, describing their preparation and uses. Mary was sitting quietly as always, staring off into the distance. Cassandra wove a circlet of flowers and reached to place it on Mary's head.

"There you go, Mary. Now you are a princess. Isn't that wonderful?" Not expecting an answer, Cassandra turned to gather more flowers for herself.

"My name is Gwennolaik."

Cassandra froze, not sure if she'd heard the words. She felt a chill run down her spine. She faced the woman sitting cross legged across from her. For the first time, she met intelligence in the dark grey eyes.

"I'm glad to finally meet you, Gwennolaik."

***********************
Seacouver; Present time

Cassandra turned around and hugged Gwena fiercely. When they parted, both brushed away tears. Cassandra, voice husky from emotion, "I *know* what you are trying to do, but we need to focus on finding Duncan. There is something definitely wrong. Something evil has happened. I can feel it and so did StarSong. Methos or Joe could help us fnd Duncan. Methos certainly won't talk to me, but he'll tell you."

"Cass, I haven'tseen him in 1,200 years. If I thought *he* was dead, he had even more reason to think I died. What makes you think he'll trust me."

"True, you will have to explain how you're alive after all this time, bu..."

"Cass, I can't go into that! He won't understand. We agreed never to tell another immortal what we've discovered." Gwena was nearly babbling in panic.

Cassandra grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake. "Gwena, tell him the quickening alone was responsible for your breakdown. You don't have to tell him everything. He'll probably be so happy you're alive he won't even question you too closely." The last sentence was tinged with sarcasm.

Cassandra let go of the smaller woman and walked briskly over to the desk sitting in front of a window. Opening a drawer and pulling out the phone book, she continued, "Why don't you shower and change and I'll see if I can locate Methos." Cassandra looked up from the book and said, "Well, go on. Don't just stand there all night."

Gwena started toward the bathroom, hesitated for a moment, and said softly, "Cass, you do know you are always my first priority, don't you? Your happiness and well-being are as important as my own life."

Cassandra paused with her hand on the phone and replied, gently, "Of course, sister mine! And you are always my first priority. Now go shower. I'll track him down so we can get this over with."

******************
Joe's Bar; Seacouver; Present Time

The late night crowd was starting to thin out. Mike was cleaning up prepatory to closing. At their table, the two immortals and one Watcher sat silently after Methos finished. He picked up his glass and swallowed the rest of his whiskey. He grimaced as the liquid traced its fiery path to his stomach. Joe signaled Mike for a beer for the next round. Three shots of whiskey, and talking, had taken the edge off the shock Methos had been dealing with. Mike started over, but paused when the phone behind the bar rang. Amanda, puzzled, asked the older immortal, "So you stayed there for what, 100 years, to avoid this immortal? I know you don't like to fight, but that's pretty extreme even for you, Methos."

He snorted and replied, "No, he gave up about a week later, but by then I was completely fascinated by this woman who could train animals and kill with only the power of her voice."

Mike hung up the phone and brought the beer over to the table, saying to Joe, "There was a woman on the phone just now asking if I'd seen our friend, Adam, here. When I asked if she wanted to talk to him, she hung up. Didn't get a name, sorry Joe."

After Mike walked away, Methos said, "That's probably Cassandra looking to take my head."

"Maybe not. Maybe it's Gwennolaik looking to find you." Amanda hoped that was the case. She didn't think Methos would fight Cassandra to win.

"I've told you. Gwennolaik is dead." Methos was adamant.

"How can you be so sure? Did you see her die? Or see her body?" Joe was curious. If she was alive, she had eluded detection by the Watchers for at least 1,300 years. More, depending on how long she'd been alive before meeting Methos. Joe knew it wasn't likely, but it was possible.

Methos hesitated, unsure if he wanted to relive that dark day. Slowly he said, "No, I wasn't there. Her body was burned in the fire from the quickening."

Amanda leaned forward to peer at Methos. "Maybe it was someone else. It *could* have been someone else. If the body was burned bad enough, it would have been impossible to tell back then."

Methos contemplated his beer for a moment, then shook his head. Deciding to tell the story, he began to speak still looking at the glass. "Evey day for 96 years, I tried to make Gwennolaik learn to handle a sword. She would watch me practice, but no matter what I said or did, she would not learn to fight.

Methos fell silent, lost in the memory of the daily arguments. He often became frustrated in the beginning. Yelling at a woman, who calmly went on about her daily business, made him feel like a fool.

Then came the day he lost it completely. He started away from Gwennolaik, stopped and spun around. His sword sliced through the air and stopped against her neck. She barely flinched as the sharp blade cut her skin. Blood trickled down her throat. Methos watched it trace a path along her collarbone and into the hollow between her breasts. He raised his eyes to hers. She gazed at him, unafraid and serene.

"There was a time, not long ago, when I would have taken your head without thinking about it. No regret. You have no idea who I am." Methos growled at her

With a tranquil, loving smile, Gwennolaik replied. "I know you better than you know yourself. I've seen the nightmares from your violent past. I can see it in your energy, in your soul. I see the struggle you go through every day trying to deal with what you've done and seen. I love you even though you do not yet love yourself."

Methos backed away, lowering the sword. He stared at her unbelievingly. ~~She can't mean that. She doesn't know the extent of what I've done, what I am.~~

Gwennolaik's smile widened. "I know you can't accept that, but it's true." She turned and walked back to the fire.

From that day on, something profound had changed in their relationship. Methos was more content and at ease. He continued to try to get Gwennolaik to learn to fight and she still continued to refuse. But it had become a daily ritual. Soothing and comforting in it's unerring regularity. The arguments and frustration disappeared, at least for that one subject.

"Methos." Amanda touched his arm, intrigued by the slight smile on his sensual lips.

Methos started slightly at her touch. He picked up his beer and sipped, buying a moment to collect himself. He put the glass down and continued.

"One day I needed to go into town, to get some things we needed. I had broken the blade on a knife and needed to replace it. The blacksmith directed me to another town that was on the opposite side of our place. I knew I'd be at least 5 or 6 days longer than I'd planned. I decided to detour and let Gwennolaik know I was going to be later than originally expected. Before I got back to our place to talk to her, I felt another immortal. I didn't see anyone. Not wanting to engage in battle, I endeavored to lose them in the forest. I didn't sense anyone after that, so figured I had succeded. I told Gwennolaik I'd be gone longer than I thought. I suggested she stay in the old cave which was nearer Holy Ground. She, of course, just laughed and reminded me she didn't need to run to Holy Ground to be safe. I figured I was just being paranoid because I didn't know who the immortal had been. She could, obviously, take care of herself. Not wanting to argue with her, I let the matter drop."

Methos stopped to take a long drink of beer. It was only about half an hour before closing and there were only two patrons left up at the bar.

Joe said thoughtfully, "It does sound as if she was quite capable of protecting herself without a sword."

Methos replied, "I thought the same thing, so I left for the other town. I was a little more than a day away when I felt a compulsion to return home. I didn't know what, but I knew something was wrong. By pushing my horse to its limits, I made it back in less than a day." Methos swallowed heavily. When he continued his voice was husky and rough. "I found the hut burned to the ground from a quickening. Gwennolaik's torque, which she never removed, was lying next to the remains." Methos paused and swallowed slowly. "I buried her there and took the first transport off the Isle I could find. It ended up being a bunch of monks headed for Iceland." Methos shuddered at the memory. "At least the hardship of that crossing was a distraction from thinking of Gwennolaik. I haven't been back to Ireland since.

"She could still be alive, Methos. Maybe she was hiding in the cave and two other immortals battled and . . ." Amanda tailed off as Methos shook his head.

"You think I didn't think of that! I checked the cave, and all around, in a vain hope she might have survived. Even knowing she wouldn't fight to save her life, I still couldn't believe she was gone. After days of searching, I finally had to accept the bitter truth. I know she is dead. That woman is just a doppleganger, a look-alike."

Mike took that moment to walk up to the table. Joe looked up as Mike said, "Hey, boss, everything is done for the night. I'm going to leave now and lock the door behind me. Anything you need before I leave."

"No, that's fine. You go on and I'll see you tomorrow." Joe smiled at his assistant.

As Mike walked out the door, both Amanda and Methos looked up with the familiar stare. Joe knew this meant another immortal was near. Both of them moved for their coats as Mike stuck his head back in the door. "Hey, Joe, there is a little lady here who'd like to talk to Adam. You want me to let her in?"

Joe glanced at Methos long enough to see him nod grimly before answering, "Yeah, sure, have her come in."

All three stood as the woman entered. Amanda and Methos had pulled their swords and were holding them down along their sides. Joe and Amanda both relaxed slightly when they realized it wasn't Cassandra. If anything, Methos tensed even more.

The tiny woman was dressed in a classic, sleeveless, flowing, dark purple, silk dress. It swirled genly around her calves as she stepped into the room. Her dark auburn hair was caught in a simple french braid to fall over her left shoulder. The tip of her braid brushed the belt clasped at her slender waist. If anyone had taken the time to study the links, they would have seen they were comprised of the moon phases, alternating with celtic astrological symbols. She wore several silver rings and bracelets, and silver earring dangled from her ears.

She smiled gently and held her hands out palms up. "I am not armed. I have come to talk, not to fight." Her voice was soft and husky, but carried clearly across the room.

Joe and Amanda looked at Methos. He apparently decided to take the woman at her word and silently put his sword away. Amanda, being slightly more suspicious, just laid hers next to her chair as she sat down.

The woman, Methos refused to think of her as Gwennolaik, strode gracefully across the floor towards them. Stopping just a few scant feet from Methos, she stood looking up at him with a slightly nervous smile. "I know this must be hard to believe. You probably wonder what happened or where I've been." Gwena found herself babbling a little at Methos' continued silence. His eyes had not stopped scrutinizing her since her entrance, but she couldn't read anything from him.

Joe, who was also still standing, moved forward a couple of steps and extended his hand. "I am Joe Dawson, the proprietor here. Welcome, Miss . . ."

"Carter, actually its Mrs. Carter-Utah. You may call me Gwena, if you like." She shook his hand gratefully.

Joe directed her to a seat at the table. She ended up facing Joe, Amanda on her right and Methos' chair on her left. Joe introduced Amanda as Methos slowly sat down. He still hadn't spoken a word, nor taken his eyes off her.

Joe offered her a drink, to which Gwena shook her head and smiled slightly in thanks. She turned to Methos. "Are you going to speak to me or is this a punishment? Or, maybe, a test of some sort?" Gwena's nervousness gave an edge of anger to her voice.

Methos finally spoke. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" His voice was harsh with emotion.

Gwena looked down at her hands with a wry smile, glancing up at Amanda and Joe before her eyes settled on Methos. "I tried to tell Cass you probably wouldn't believe I was alive. It really is me, Aidan." Methos flinched at the name. Gwena hurried on. "I know it's hard to believe, but there must be some way I can convince you. Even after all this time, there must be something I can do or say to prove myself to you."

"How do I know this isn't some plot of Cassandra's to get back at me?" Methos' voice was grim.

"Please, neither Cassandra nor I knew, until tonite, that Aidan and Methos were even the same person. She isn't after your head or after revenge." Gwena was beginning to fear coming here might have been the wrong decision. Methos seemed determined to deny her existance.

Amanda snorted at Gwena's words. Gwena tore her gaze from Methos to look at her. "I know that might be hard to believe, but Cassandra, with help, is trying very hard to move beyond what's happened in the past. It's important to several people, besides just herself, that all the rage and bitterness be dismissed. None of us can move on until she can put this behind her."

"Who is 'us'?" Joe interjected, very curious about this unknown immortal.

"That's not really important right now. Just know that Cassandra has friends and, 'family' if you will. And we all care about her. Our wellbeing is entwined with hers."

Gwena looked back to Methos, who was still watching her with a forbidding expression. "Surely, you can't have forgotten this." With those words, Gwena lifted the heavy auburn braid away from her neck, exposing a small scar.

Methos took a ragged breath. With a trembling hand he touched the mark he had given her so very long ago. His eyes, when they met hers, were tear-filled. "How? Why?" He shook his head.

"It's a long story, but I will try to keep it short. There is an urgent reason for Cassandra and I to be here. I *can't* stay long." Gwena dropped the braid against her neck.

She focused her dark grey eyes intently on Joe. "I know you are a Watcher, but I can't allow you to tell them about me. I can't afford to have anyone know about me or my associates. There are others who are at stake that I will not endanger. I've been told you are a man of honor. Will you give me your word that you will not tell *anyone* about me?"

Joe glanced at Methos as he replied to Gwena, "I promised Methos I would record this only as a private record. Will that be enough for you?"

Methos smiled at Joe gratefully as Gwena nodded her agreement. Amanda said, "So please, tell us how you escaped. Methos was so sure you were dead. From what he told us, it does seem impossible you're alive. What happened?"

Gwena smiled at the other woman. "So Aidan ... I mean Methos, has told you about me. What exactly did he say happened? I only have a vague idea what he might have thought. I didn't return for over a year. I only remembered what happened almost 300 years afterwards."

As Amanda recounted the story he had told them, Methos sat and watched Gwennolaik. ~~Gwena~~, he reminded himself. As he watched her, he recalled the last time he'd seen her. He hadn't gone into detail with Amanda and Joe. Some things were too private, too personal, to recount even to friends.

Rated PG-13; go here if you are under 18 or are offended by loving, consensual M/F sex June, 765 CE, Ireland - Methos & Gwennolaik's Hut (PG13)

Rated R; do NOT go here if you are under 18! June, 765 CE, Ireland - Methos & Gwennolaik's Hut

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