What never will be

[1stmacleod]

Staying just off the Nexus makes it easier to visit, and Connor is tentatively getting familiar with the place. He's been told by a couple of people that he needs to get a PINpoint, and he's learned to reliably find the free bar. He's met a girl who wants to get some sword training from him, which is something to do, and he hasn't felt the buzz of another immortal since his first time here, and that was Ramirez.

He is almost, just barely, settling in.

Then he answers a casual question, and the woman who asked it starts to tell him about the other Connor MacLeod. The one who still has a good friend and true brother in Duncan. The one who still has Alex. And John. And Rachel. An ageless, immortal Rachel.

Connor staggers back to Kairos' house, with a box of chocolates he's supposed to give to his own Duncan along with the apology he's dreading to make. Over the past five years he's mostly pulled his mind back together. He no longer hallucinates, he has enough presence of mind to walk around in public without attracting stares. He remembers to shave at least every couple of days and shower whenever he gets a chance, and he can carry on normal conversations. He's walking a fragile edge, though.
Now his mind is swirling with the stories he's been told of a big happy family with another Connor MacLeod at the boisterous center of it all, somewhere out there not so far away. It's the most wonderful thing he could possibly dream of to know his family is happy and healthy somewhere, and the most agonizingly painful thing ever to know that it's not his family, and it never will be.
He comes into the house and pets the dogs, and puts the box of chocolates on the dresser in the guest room, and sits on the floor beside the bed with his head in his hands and shakes all over for the next few hours.

Comments

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

A hard shiver runs through him, and he shuts his eyes again. "They deserved someone better... and they deserved to live." There's another shaky sigh, but he's starting to slowly get a grip on himself again. "I'm not... I'm no good, without them. Everything of me that was worthwhile died with them."

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

She can't argue with deserving to live, and she's not even going to try. "You need to live, and live well, to honor their memory," she murmurs. "It's a horrible thing, to live without someone you love. But it's worse to live without someone you love and not try to live for them." If that makes any sense. It sounded better in her head.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"I've... forgotten how." He tilts his head back against the side of the bed, shaky and drained, but calmer now. "I'd forgotten how even before... they came into my life. I needed them to remind me every day. I'm so tired..."

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

"Then it's good you're here. Safe. Maybe you could remember."

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

At first he doesn't answer, just sits with his head tilted back taking slow, shaky breaths. He's not feeling all that optimistic, but he doesn't want to argue. She's too nice to argue with.

"I'm... a tired, bitter old man." He needs a drink. Or maybe a good meal, and some sleep.

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

"I've gathered." It's not a complaint, more an observation. "If I get you your surprise, you must promise not to drink it all tonight. And eat dinner, too." She doesn't wait for him to speak. She just gets to her feet, runs to her studio where she'd stashed it, and returns with a bottle of 1926 Macallan scotch. She presents it to him like one would a new born. "My friend's family likes this stuff. A lot. Hyou lifted a bottle for us." And if Hyou had told her how much that stuff cost, she'd have left it at their overpriced house.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

Aside from rolling his head a little to watch her go, Connor doesn't move until she gets back. His eyebrows lift at the present, although he already had a good idea what it would be. But he wasn't expecting... that.

Connor takes the bottle carefully, and turns it around in his hands, noting the year. He hopes whatever world she got it from is set in the past, or else she's just handed him one of the most expensive drinks in the world. "...Thank you." It's a hoarse whisper, and his expression is definitely stunned.

Very carefully, reverently, he holds the bottle up to the light. She hasn't brought him a glass, and drinking out of the bottle directly would be sacrilege. "Nineteen-twenty-six... Franco became General of Spain... Queen Elizabeth the second was born... Jack Dempsey lost the world heavyweight title, and coal miners all across England went on strike." His tone is thoughtful and very distant.

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

It is definitely from the modern age; other wise it wouldn't be so tasty out of the bottle. It's just that Hyou's wife is literally two times richer than Carlos Slim Helu, and she can't give away the money fast enough. When Kairos had broached the subject to Hyou, he'd grinned and said he had just the thing.

Kairos has a feeling it was expensive, because the d'Casciel Himotos just do not do 'cheap'. But not ... that expensive. "You're welcome. I hope it'll suffice?" She really knows nothing about alcohol.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

Connor's been too out of the loop to know exactly how expensive it is, but he's too well-versed in booze not to have a pretty good idea. This would be why he's treating the bottle as if it were a soap bubble.

"....Suffice?" His voices rasps and cracks almost into nothing, and he stares at her a little, then shakes his head. "Yes, it will more than suffice." He gives the weakest of smiles, but it's a smile all the same.

"Should... should I... make dinner?" He really feels like crawling into a dark cave and never coming out again, but he's mostly over the shakes, and something practical and ordinary might help him pull himself back together the rest of the way.

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

"Mmhm. I can help, if you like. You're certainly not my maid or chef." Pause. "Though I bet you've got the knees for the skirt." C'mon, Connor. Laugh. Please? That smile is a start.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"It's called a kilt." The reply is almost reflexive. Yes, yes he did grow up wearing one.

He smiles just a little more, still weakly, and runs a hand through his hair. "Help... would be nice." He very carefully puts the photos and jewelry bag back in his suitcase.

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

She grins at him, crossing her arms. "Yeah. I know. I was referring to a french maid's costume. Last time I saw one none of 'em had clan colors."

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"Si vous portez un, je vais cuisiner ce que vous voulez." He smirks. "There are limits to my gratitude as a house guest." Connor moves to stand, a little stiff and shaky, still, but willing to make the effort.

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

Oh, Kairos blushes. "Don't tempt me."

"I'm not sure I have your size, anyway. You're a little bigger than me."

"...Did you have anything specific in mind?"

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

He's not especially surprised she knows French, but she's got him smiling a little, and that's something to be grateful for.

"...Medium?" Clothing sizes are for people who don't just buy their t-shirts off a stack at Wal-mart. "Nope. Depends what you've got in the pantry." He offers her a hand up.

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

Well, she currently lives and grew up in France, so ... it stands to reason :) It's English she's not fluent in.

She takes his hand and pretty much just pops right up. "Thank you. I'm a size 2 or 4, depending on cut. Small. I have to run around in the shower to get wet." She grins and rolls her eyes. "My brother in law calls me Fun Size."

Hm. She keeps a well stocked pantry, so there's gonna be stuff in there. She's just not 100% sure what it is. "Okay..." There might be some spinach, and some chicken..

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

He'll have to try Gaelic on her next.

"You're fine. My clan always called me a runt." There was a time not so long ago when he moved with that kind of ease, and he could again if he takes better care of himself. He's improving, slowly, but unless he's cooking meals for her benefit, he tends to forget to eat.

They'll definitely find something, and he'll whip up a meal based around whatever meat she's got.

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

Her eyes widen, just slightly. Compared to her and her people, he's a giant. "They make men bigger than you?" Sure, he could fill out more, but there's a lot of man there. Or maybe it's just his aura that's so big.

She needs to insist on more red meat in her diet; usually she doesn't eat much. Recovering vegetarian. And once dinner is served, Kairos will dig in with enthusiasm. Mmm. Food.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

Connor blinks at her, and there, finally, is the raspy chuckle she was going for. "I'm on the tall side, I guess, but there's lots of men bigger than me. I'm a good runner but I'm not strong." That's not technically true, because he's a little stronger than he looks. His presence, though, after several centuries and hundreds of quickenings, can be enough to fill any room.

He leads the way to the kitchen and starts pulling things together, directing her to do easy things like chopping and mixing.

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

And Kairos will obediently chop and mix with obvious skill and talent - as much as one needs skill and talent to mix and chop. Her knife skills are excellent due to a couple of courses she took with her sister a few years ago. "Have you ever owned a restaurant, or work in one?" she asks, cleaning off her chef's knife.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"...No. I owned an antique store, last. Why? I'm not that good." He's got no professional training, but in the days when he was healthier he had a big appetite, and he did the single father act for finicky kids twice. Connor's never thought of himself as a chef, even if he is pretty good at it.

But he'd be a thin chef, so would anyone trust his food?

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

She shrugs, washing her hands. "You seem to like feeding people. And your food is far from inedible. S'really tasty, actually."

Kairos and her sister Kal know from experience it's not the thinness of the chef that matters; rather it's the enthusiasm. The girls can throw down some food.

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"Aw, I'm just try to repay you for letting me stay here, and you seemed to like it." He's quietly flattered, though. His hands are almost steady as he works. After a moment his voice comes softer, halting, "I... raised Rachel, alone, and she was a picky eater, and so small. I don't think she got enough, growing up during the war. She liked baking cookies, though..."

[kairos-aether.livejournal.com]

"Cookies are nice. The kids at the Way are fond of pizza. They don't get it often, I guess. And chocolate chip cookies." She tilts her head. "Which war?"

[1stmacleod.livejournal.com]

"World War II. I found her in Holland..." His voice is distant, and sad, but he wouldn't have talked about her like this, a week ago. "We were the only two survivors after the Nazis came through. Well. I'm not sure I counted, technically. I'd already died at least once."