Illusions (17/28) - PG

      Barbara Lavelle (blavelle@sherbtel.net)
      Sat, 10 Feb 2001 13:21:50 -0600

      • Messages sorted by: [ date ][ thread ][ subject ][ author ]
      • Next message: Barbara Lavelle: "Illusions (21/28) - PG"
      • Previous message: Barbara Lavelle: "Illusions (19/28) - PG"

      --------
      Chapter Seventeen
      
      The lowering of the afternoon sun caused a deep shadow across Duncan
      MacLeod as he sat quietly in the over-stuffed chair in the corner of
      Caitlin's room watching her sleep. Tanya lay beside him on the floor,
      her head nestled across her paws, her eyes closed as she patiently
      waited for her mistress to wake up.
      
      Shifting his gaze out the window as the sun slid slowly behind the
      trees, Duncan felt the weight of his over four-hundred years of
      Immortality pressing in on him as he too waited. Dreading her reaction
      when she realized she hadn't escaped him after all.
      Suddenly his attention was drawn to Tanya as her head snapped up, her
      eyes tightly focused on the bed as Caitlin began to stir.
      
      Barely breathing, Duncan watched with both relief and trepidation, his
      fingers digging into the arms of the chair as Caitlin's eyes began to
      open.
      
      Padding over to the bed, Tanya laid her head on the edge and waited.
      
      Rousing slowly, a frown creasing her brow, Caitlin cautiously moved her
      head, before daring to open her eyes. Feeling a weight on the side of
      the bed, she turned her head to find Tanya quietly sitting with her chin
      resting there. Smiling weakly, Caitlin slid her hand across the blanket,
      and ran her fingers over the dog's soft ear and gave it a little tug.
      "Sorry girl, I'm not feeling too great right now, we'll play later, okay?"
      
      Cocking her head, sensing she had to be quiet, she contented herself by
      merely licking Caitlin's fingers before settling down on the rug beside
      the bed.
      Bracing her hands on the mattress, Caitlin tried to pull herself into a
      sitting position and quickly realized it was a bad idea. Sucking in her
      breath with a hiss as shards of pain surged through her battered and
      abused body, she stopped momentarily and then tried again.
      
      Hidden in the shadows, Duncan's face mirrored her expression of pain, as
      she attempted to pull herself upright. Unable to sit silently by any
      longer as she continued to struggle, the light from the setting sun
      exposed his grave expression as he rose, his chest tight with
      apprehension to help her. His step faltered when Caitlin gasped in
      surprise as she realized he had been sitting in the corner watching her.
      
      Staring at each other for several seconds, both unable to speak for
      different reasons, Caitlin spoke in a frail whisper. "Duncan, why were
      you sitting there in the dark. I don't understand, what happened? My
      head's killing me and I feel like someone's used me for a punching bag."
      
      Stunned by her words, he couldn't help but stutter in a strained voice.
      "Wha-what?" Adding cautiously,
      
      "Don't you remember?"
      
      "Remember what?" Placing her hands against her temples trying to ease
      the throbbing pain, she said. "The last thing I remember is clearing
      away the dishes after you left for the island. Why do I feel so
      exhausted? The sun is just going down, so you couldn't have been gone
      that long."
      
      Still unable to believe the reprieve he'd been given, he cleared his
      throat and said quietly.  "Actually, that was yesterday. You've been out
      for over twenty-four hours."
      
      Shaken, she gasped. "What! But, that's not possible! What happened?"
      
      "I'm not sure." He said vaguely, and hesitated. Afraid that any
      explanation might jog her memory.
      
      Deciding he might as well tell the truth, at least part of it, he said.
      "When I returned from the island at dusk yesterday, I found you laying
      at the bottom of the stairs." Closely watching for her reaction, he
      continued so softly, Caitlin had to strain to hear him. "Apparently, you
      fell coming down the steps for some reason and hit your head."
      
      "Is that why I can't remember?"
      
      "It could be. I remember reading an article once about football players
      sometimes suffering  short periods of memory loss after a particularly
      rough game, from the impact of their brain hitting against the inside of
      their skull when they were tackled.
      
      "I suppose, that sounds reasonable." Caitlin said frowning, and added as
      she rubbed her hand across her forehead. "That explains why I've got
      this pounding headache."
      
      "I found a bottle of generic ibuprofen in the bathroom, I'll get you a
      couple of tablets for your headache." He said, and started to walk away.
      
      "Duncan?"
      
      Turning around he noticed her face was slightly red. "Speaking of the
      bathroom, I-um need to use it, but I'm so stiff and sore from the fall I
      can hardly move. I'd appreciate it If you could help me to the door."
      Understanding her predicament, he helped her rise.
      
      Catching her weight against him as she swayed, he wrapped his arm around
      her waist and carefully guided her to the bathroom. Waiting outside the
      door until she was finished, and then escorting her back to bed.
      
      Grabbing his hand as he tucked her into bed again, she asked, slightly
      winded from her short trek to the bathroom. "Would you lay down beside
      me for a while and hold me?"
      
      Torn between wanting to hold her, and knowing the condition she was in,
      he hesitated. "I'm not sure that's a very good idea right now Caitlin, I
      might drift off and hurt you in my sleep."
      
      Smiling, she said, "I'll take that chance. As strange as it sounds after
      being out for over twenty four hours, I feel extremely tired and you
      look like you could a good night's sleep yourself." Dismissing his
      excuse, she held out her hand. "I need to feel the security of your arms
      around me as I sleep Duncan, I want you beside me. Please"
      
      Seeing the love shining out of her eyes, instead of the hate and fear he
      had been expecting, he clasped her hand and carefully laid down beside
      her on top of the covers.
      
      Even though they were both asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow,
      every time Caitlin moaned or twitched in her sleep during the night,
      Duncan woke up, fearing something was wrong.
      
      Rousing early the next morning, he found himself on his side tucked
      behind the length of Caitlin's body, his arm draped over her waist.
      Moving his hand to stroke her hair, he felt her body jerk and stiffen.
      
      "I'm sorry sweetheart," he said while nuzzling her neck. "I didn't mean
      to startle you. I didn't realize you were awake."
      
      
      Caitlin lay still and didn't answer.
      
      Concerned by her lack of response, he braced himself on his elbow and
      gently turned her to face him. But, Caitlin avoided his gaze, by keeping
      her eyes closed.
      
      "Caitlin, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Placing his hand against the
      softness of her cheek, he pleaded. "Caitlin, please look at me and tell
      me what's wrong. Caitlin-"
      
      The look of repugnance and accusation in her eyes when she finally
      looked at him sucked the very breath from his body, leaving him pale and
      shaken.
      
      Turning away, he slowly rose from the bed and stood looking out the
      window.
      
      "You remember!" He said, his voice filled with bitterness, his broad
      shoulders drooping from the weight of her condemnation.
      
      "You were hoping I wouldn't!" She snapped with contempt.
      
      "Yes", he said, shaking his head, his voice plaintive. "At least until I
      had the chance to explain."
      
      "Explain what? That you're a murderer, and for reasons I don't
      understand, my father not only recorded what you did, but condoned it."
      She said, feeling a sense of triumph as she saw him flinch from her
      brutal verbal attack.
      
      "I'm not a murderer." He ground out as he swung around to face her, her
      accusations cutting deeper than any immortal's blade had ever done.
      "It's  not what you think."
      
      "You killed those two men in the photographs!" She said, already finding
      him guilty.
      
      "Yes." He said wearily, jamming his clenched fists into his pockets and
      turning back towards the window again. He was so tired of having to
      justify his life to mortals. A life he didn't choose. "Because they were
      trying to kill me. You read your father's notes, you know I had no choice."
      
      Ignoring his last remark she continued her inquisition. "The woman
      standing on the shore, is she the same one in the photograph at the your cabin?"
      
      "Yes." He said bleakly, wishing he could turn back the clock. Wishing
      Tessa was there with him, so he could hold her and feel the warmth of
      her unconditional love, instead of Caitlin's cold rejection and condemnation.
      
      "What happened to her did you kill her too, after she saw what you did?"
      Caitlin asked sharply.
      
      "NO! Dammit, I loved her, she-was my life!" Duncan rapped out, as he
      swung around to glare at her, his voice choked with emotion. He still
      carried a two-fold sense of guilt for Tessa's death. He was the reason
      she had been kidnapped by renegade Watcher Pallin Wolf to lure him into
      trap so he could kill him. If he only would have left with Tessa and
      Richie that night after it was all over, instead of staying behind to
      see what he could find out about Wolf and his followers, he could have
      stopped them both from being shot by a strung-out junkie looking for an
      easy mark.
      
      Alarmed by the fury in his eyes, afraid she had pushed him too far,
      Caitlin drew back and watched as anger, pain and regret crossed his taut features.
      Looking at her pale face and uneasy behavior, he knew she realized she
      had gone over the line and she was frightened. Reining in his temper, he
      thought for a moment. It suddenly occurred to him that she should
      already know the answers to the questions she was asking. Walking over
      to the bed he looked down at her and asked, quietly.
      
      "Why are you asking me these questions Caitlin? I thought you read your
      father's journal, that's why you were running away from me? And since
      I'm asking the questions, where and when did you find it?
      
      Feeling defensive, unable to stand his scrutiny, she looked away again
      before answering, her voice tense.
      
      "I saw the journal by accident yesterday morning while getting Tanya's
      ball from underneath my father's drafting table. It was wedged behind
      the bookcase."
      
      "Why didn't you mention finding it then ?" Duncan asked, puzzled.
      
      "I had forgotten about it. After you left for the island, I remembered
      seeing it. I was curious so I decided to pull it out. When I saw the
      symbol on the cover I thought it was a year book or something from when
      my father was in college. He had the same symbol tattooed on his wrist.
      He told me when I was younger, it was from a fraternity he belonged to.
      
      "You saw the photographs, but you didn't take the time to read the
      journal did you." He said, shaking his head, some of his anger returning.
      
      "No, what did you expect? When I read the title page and found the
      pictures with the descriptions on the back, I was so shocked and
      horrified. I, I just panicked."
      
      Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he reached out
      to touch her, but let his hand drop when she gasped and pulled away. The
      muscles in his jaw tensed, though he spoke, calmly. "I know what you
      found is disturbing and I understand why you were frightened. But, there
      "is" an explanation. Just give me a chance to explain. I know how it
      looks Caitlin, after all we've shared, and as close as we've become, do
      you really think I'm capable of doing the things you're accusing me of.
      Just two days ago, you told me you loved me. Just last night, you wanted
      my arms around you while you slept. I'm still the same man Caitlin. I'm
      not the one who's changed. I, still love you."
      
      Her eyes remained cold as she looked at him. Then, she turned away again.
      
      When she refused to acknowledge his plea to hear him out, he rose to his
      feet and briefly looked at her, deciding it was best if he left the
      room.
      
      Glancing upward as he turned and walked away, Caitlin caught the
      expression of sadness in depths of his eyes. Regretting her impulsive
      outburst and recriminations, yet still unwilling to listen to any
      justification for his actions, she let him leave the room without speaking.
      
      "I don't understand how it could all go so wrong." She murmured, her own
      eyes filling with tears. "So many secrets kept from me by the people I
      loved and thought I knew. So many lies. So many illusions. My marriage
      towards the end, the man I thought my father was, and now even Duncan."
      
      Crying herself to sleep, Caitlin woke up later that evening to find the
      lamp on the bedside table lit and Tanya laying against her on the bed,
      her head resting on her lap. Quickly glancing at the chair in the corner
      of room, she was relieved to find it empty.
      The pounding in her head had receded to a dull ache.
      
      Looking around, she discovered the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of
      water setting within reach on the nightstand. Taking the appropriate
      dose, she decided it was time for another trip to the bathroom. Wincing,
      as she folded back the covers, she managed to slide her feet to the
      floor. Leaning on the nightstand, she pulled herself upright biting her
      lip against the pain and walked stiffly towards the door, bracing
      herself on the furniture as she went.
      
      Pausing to gather her courage, she opened the door enough to slip
      through and noticed the lights were on in the mainroom, but Duncan was
      no where in sight. Using the wall for support, she edged her way towards
      the bathroom, praying that Duncan wouldn't walk towards the bedroom and
      see her.
      
      Opening the door of the bathroom after she was finished, she waited a
      few moments to make sure the coast was clear before cautiously walking
      back to the bedroom. Slipping back inside and quietly closing the door,
      she almost fainted when she turned around and found Duncan standing in
      the middle of the room holding a dinner tray. Dimly silhouetted against
      the light from the bedside lamp silently watching her as she lingered
      against the door.
      "Why didn't you call me, I would have helped you?" He said softly.
      
      "I, I didn't know if you were still here." She said defensively, rising
      her chin in defiance. "Besides, I feel better and I thought I could use
      the exercise."
      
      Choosing to ignore her ill-tempered behavior, he said pleasantly. "I
      thought you might be hungry, so I fixed you a tray. It's just soup and a
      sandwich, I didn't think you could handle anything heavier right now."
      
      "You can just leave it on the dresser", she said, arrogantly, sounding
      like a grand dame giving orders to a lowly servant."
      
      Looking at her like a tolerant parent dealing with a wayward child, he
      merely raised an eye brow and continued to watch her from the middle of
      the room.
      
      Feeling her legs starting to tremble, she knew she couldn't hover where
      she was much longer before she embarrassed herself  by falling to the floor.
      
      Eyeing him nervously, she wondered how she was going to get around him.
      While mentally  calculating her options, he surprised her by setting the
      tray on the dresser and walking towards the door.
      Mentally sighing in relief, she started to move aside. But, her feeling
      of relief quickly turned to alarm when instead of leaving, he swooped
      her up in his arms and sat her on the edge of the bed. Lifting her legs
      and sliding them under the covers, he retrieved the dinner tray from the
      dresser and sat it across her lap, ignoring her feeble attempts to
      protest. Looking down at her with exasperation, his hands on his hips,
      he scowled and said. "Has anyone ever told you, you're too damned
      stubborn for your own good!"
      
      With that parting remark, he walked out of the room and slammed the
      door, leaving Caitlin sputtering and fuming unable to think of suitable
      retort. Her first reaction was to hurl his precious tray of food at the
      bedroom door, but as if on cue, she heard the pronounced sound of her
      stomach growling and decided she'd only be punishing herself.
      
      --------

      • Next message: Barbara Lavelle: "Illusions (21/28) - PG"
      • Previous message: Barbara Lavelle: "Illusions (19/28) - PG"