Date: Mon, 20 Nov 1995 23:07:09 EST Reply-To: Vi Moreau Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Vi Moreau Subject: Elena epilogue Elena - Epilogue Elena's interview with the police was harrowing. They were particularly miffed because they had five separate pools of blood from five separate badly injured and/or dead individuals (including one on the roof)--but only ONE body. They were paraticularly suspicious of Elena because her hotel room had been the only one searched. Duncan had never seen Elena so restrained and respectful; she used the word 'sir' liberally, and was very cooperative, repeating her story over and over again, until they suggested she give them a blood sample for comparison. At this her eyes got big, and her hand actually trembled as she brought it to her neck. "No, no, no! Not a needle! I...I am terrified of needles or any sharp objects near my body...I cannot, Duncan, please don't let them!" she appealed to him. Looking into her face, even he was convinced she was actually terrified. In the end they were mollified when she agreed to a strip search by a female detective who verified that Elena had sustained no wounds that same morning. When they finally returned to the dojo it was after seven, and Elena was so exhausted she just fell into a deep sleep. Duncan puttered around quietly, eating some cold pasta and drinking a last cup of tea. He had just picked up a book and had settled down when he noticed her quietly thrashing on the bed again, in the throes of her nightly 'pesadilla'. If Elena hoped her exhaustion would keep her from her usual nightmare, she was wrong. Once again she was falling from her horse, 'dying', running from the Hunters' machine guns until she saw the severed head rolling toward her. This time she was sure it would be Duncan's head, but it wasn't--it was her own head, again. Her shriek of despair was muffled by Duncan's shoulder as he held her tightly and with difficulty, rocking her and making soothing noises. She awoke trembling. In spite of the terror, she was never able to cry, just sit and shudder until her heartbeat returned to normal. Holding her, sweaty, panting, Duncan felt a surge of both protectiveness and lust sweep over him. He pulled back away from her and looked at her face. She was just calming down. He put a hand around the nape of her neck and they kissed passionately, repeatedly. He started to gently push her down onto the bed, but she pulled away and said, "Wait." Duncan thought she was just too exhausted, 'Damn!' but she glided out of bed and took a deep breath. Standing before him, she crossed her arms in front, grabbed the hem of her shirt and slowly pulled it up over her head. Duncan leaned back on the bed, watching in excited appreciation. She often didn't bother with underthings, but when going into a fight she needed all the support she could get. She undid her bra with one hand and let it fall on top of the shirt. In the dim light of the moon, he could see her nipples, hard and brown against her breasts. Slowly she tugged at the drawstring cinched around her waist, pulling the pants open. They fell in a pool at her feet, and she slipped her panties down to join them. Duncan took a deep shuddering breath and got up to go to her, but she put a hand on his chest to stop him. "Your turn, 'escoses'," she said, and she sat down on the bed to watch him. Once again she had managed to surprise him. In almost four centuries of living and loving Duncan MacLeod had never deliberately disrobed sensually for the visual pleasure of a woman, although it had been done for him plenty of times, case in point. He was both delighted and determined to give her a good show. In spite of his eagerness, he undid each button of his shirt slowly, one at a time, and took it off theatrically. He was rewarded as she took in a harsh breath. A breeze from the open window played against his bare chest. He opened the belt, undid his pants, and let them fall down to his ankles. Then slowly, as she had, he slipped his briefs down to join them. Elena watched, her eyes shining and her breath coming in long gasps. There was a familiar heat deep inside her, and her nipples tingled. She didn't know whether to keep looking at him or run into his arms. He was the standard of male beauty, tall, dark and handsome. But there was more about him, a grace of form, an elegance--even completely naked he looked classy. Also, she had learned in these last few days that he was a good, decent, and honorable man, a man she could be both happy and proud to love. She briefly wished he could feel the same about her, but now was not the moment for self-defeating thoughts. Duncan wasn't thinking in such detail. They were both so ready that he practically leaped across the room, landing on her in the bed. There was a wild confusion of arms and legs, and giggles, and sighs, and sounds deep in their throats, and calling out each other's names, and lots of heavy breathing. They made love quickly, heatedly, then made love again slowly. They were happy and in love: they knew what the other liked, they were willing to try new things, and besides, they had all the time in the world. End of Elena copyright by Vivian Moreau, 1995 Translation: 'escoses' - Scotsman 'pesadilla' - nightmare =========================================================================