Guinevere W. MacWench, Chief Wench of Connor MacLeod, set down her serving tray with a sigh.  The Tavern MacWench was always busy with visitors coming in and out, but the absence of several masters had been felt severely.  Some sort of mission had claimed the attention of Duncan, Connor, Methos and Joe, and the lot of them had said nary a word to anyone about it before their departure.  A tension had settled over the Castle MacWench at their leaving, which turned to resignation as the masters' absence extended into months.  The Tavern crowd was thinning now, and Guin was looking forward to the end of her shift, when she could go to her chambers and try to sleep.

As Guin was clearing the last table, Mistress Rose approached her.  "Guin, I need to talk to you."

"About what?" Guin replied wearily, moving dishes from the table to the tray.

"I've received...some news."  Rose took Guin's hands and turned the other woman toward her, looking Guin deep in the eyes.  "We just received word that the mission our masters have been on...wasn't entirely successful.  And..."  Rose looked away.

"And what?" Guin demanded when Rose's silence had gone on too long.

"Guin...Connor lost a battle."  Mistress Rose swallowed hard, but forced herself to look Guin in the eyes again.  "He's gone."

"No."  Guin shook her head.  "It can't be true..."

"From all accounts, it is," Rose said gently.  "I'm sorry, Guin."

"No!" Guin cried out, the tears sluicing down her cheeks as she sobbed.  Mistress Rose gently gathered the weeping Wench into her arms.  "It can't be true, Rose, it just can't."

Mistress Rose sighed.  "I'm having a hard time believing it myself, Guin -- I can only imagine how you feel."  With a last hug, Mistress Rose released her friend.  "Go upstairs, have a good cry, then get some sleep.  Others will need your strength as word gets around."  Guin nodded and trudged up the stairs, wondering where Connor's soul was now -- in Heaven, or mingled in the Quickening reserves of some other Immortal.

A few days after the shocking news, Guin was cleaning Connor's library in the NorthWest Annex, contemplating which books she would donate to the Castle's main library now that their owner wouldn't be needing them anymore.  Tears came to Guin's eyes every time she contemplated the unfortunate event that had left her masterless, and as much as she tried to use the hard work to avoid her feelings, it was nearly impossible to sidestep the overwhelming sadness in her heart.

The silence that had invaded the Annex when Connor had left with the others had turned deafening to Guin at the news of his death -- and it was a disturbance in that empty void which caught her attention now.  Startled and a bit alarmed as well, Guin grabbed a dagger from the implements in the library and stole down the hallway.  She noted that the sounds were coming from Connor's private chambers.  A man in grimy clothing, his back to her, was going through one of Connor's desk drawers.  Guin eyed his long, dirty red hair and unkempt appearance with contempt, and she steeled herself for the confrontation.  "What are you doing here?" she growled, and the man jumped at her voice.  "Why are you going through my master's things?"

The man turned to her, his scruffy beard as uneven as his hair.  His brown eyes held an air of amusement as he crossed his arms over his chest, but he did not speak.  Guin couldn't place it, but there was something familiar about him, and it both frightened and annoyed her.  "Well, are you going to answer me?" she asked angrily, waving the dagger.  "What are you doing here?"

The man gestured for her to close the door, and despite what she knew was best, she hesitantly complied.  "I would disguise my voice," rasped a familiar accent, "but I'll save that for those I don't trust as much as I trust you."  The man removed his wig and carefully stripped off the false facial hair.

"Connor," Guin whispered, her face paling to a ghostly shade.  Connor quickly stepped to her side to keep her from falling should she faint.  "It's really you," she said with a smile, leaning against him.  "You're alive."  She looked up into his face.  "But your eyes..."

"Colored contacts," Connor explained gently.

"Oh."  Guin stared up at him, still awed.  "I'm dreaming.  I must be dreaming..."

"You're not."  Connor sighed wearily.  "I almost wish you were."

"They said you'd died."  Guin furrowed her brow.

Connor's face molded into a frown.  "I faked my death."

"Why?" Guin asked, astonished, her eyes going wide.

"It's a long story."

"Well, we have plenty of time."  Guin gestured toward the chairs in the room as she turned the lock on the door.

Connor heaved a heavy sigh, and Guin frowned.  "Okay, fine.  At least give me the short of it."

"Someone was using me to get to Duncan," Connor said simply.  "So I took myself out of the way."

"Does Duncan know you're alive?" Guin inquired.

Connor shook his head.  "I had a friend of ours go to him with a story...that this henchman who had followed me had taken my head, and then our friend took his.  I even had this friend take Duncan my katana, which is why I'm carrying this."  Connor lifted the inside edge of his coat to reveal a cavalry sabre.  "It's better that Duncan thinks I'm dead so he won't worry about me being 'in danger.'"  Connor smirked.  "In fact, knowing Duncan and his sense of the melodramatic, he's probably wielding my katana at the bad guy right now, in my honor."

"Duncan will be none too happy with you when he gets back and finds out that he grieved for nothing," Guin scolded her master.

"Who said he'll find out?" Connor replied calmly, stepping back to his desk.  "I've only come to get a few things and leave, Guin.  You will not tell anyone I've been here, or that I'm still alive."

"Where will you go?"  Guin's voice was filled with concern.

Connor shrugged.  "I don't know yet."

"Then stay," Guin urged, "if only for a little while.  At least here you're safe, as safe as on Holy Ground."

"How can I?" he asked.  "Someone will see me..."

"Use your disguise."  Guin gestured toward the wig.  "You go back out the way you came, then come in the front door.  Speak only Russian.  Since I'm the only Russian speaker here, I'll take you in.  I'll tell people you're used to being a recluse, so you're not too social.  That will keep most of them away from you, out of respect.  And along the same lines -- to keep you out of the social scene -- I'll offer you refuge in the Annex, since it's just me in its maze of rooms right now.  You'll just have to be careful how much you're rifling through your things in case someone comes in."  Connor twitched his lips disapprovingly.  "Just for a little while, Connor, all right?  At least for a couple of days, maybe even til Duncan and the rest return.  Just give me a couple of days to actually believe you're still alive, that you were really here.  And you can get yourself packed up appropriately this way."

Connor sighed in resignation.  "All right.  But just for a little while.  I suppose I could use the rest and a bit of the Tavern's famous food and drink."

"I think Guin's losing her mind," Miss L MacWench said conspiratorially to the small group of Wenches surrounding her at one of the tables in the Tavern MacWench.  Her clansib Sneaker nodded in agreement.

"Do you really think so?" inquired McCat, her tone worried.

"It's quite possible," Kai replied, leaning forward.  "And grief can lead to all sorts of irrational behavior.  Especially when it's someone you're so attached to, like your master.  I mean, if anything happened to Duncan..." Kai shuddered as her voice trailed off.

Miss L nodded.  "Exactly, Kai.  Which is why Guin's sudden doting on this complete stranger is odd behavior, indeed."

"I can agree there," Sneaker chimed in.  "I mean, sure, newcomers are always welcome in the Castle and Tavern, but to invite him to stay in one of the rooms of the Annex rather than the general guest rooms upstairs...and she's always playing chess or cards or some such thing with him in Connor's library, among Connor's things...it just seems strange."

"And disrespectful," Kai added.  "To Connor, and to the other guests here, because she spends so much of her time with this guy.  Granted, she's the only Russian speaker here, and he only speaks Russian, but still..."

"Doesn't it strike you as odd that he only speaks one language?" Miss L asked suddenly.  "Most of the Immortals know several..."

"Maybe he's only recently Immortal," McCat suggested.

"Mmm.  Maybe."  Miss L tapped her fingers on the table.  "But for some reason he strikes me as having been around a while.  I just worry that he's manipulating Guin with some sort of ruse.  And for what end, I don't know, and that just worries me more."

"Me too."  Kai frowned.  "This man makes me edgy.  I wish Duncan, Methos and Joe would return -- they'd be able to read him better, and would know what to make of all this."

The table fell silent as Guin approached.  "Hello, ladies," she greeted them, seating herself at the table.  "What's up?"

Everyone shrugged or hemmed and hawed, and finally Kai spoke up.  "We're worried about you, Guin."

"Worried?"  Guin furrowed her brow.  "About me?  How come?"

"Because of all the time you're spending with the Russian guy," Sneaker filled in.

"With Mr. Zamenov?"  Guin shrugged.  "He's a nice guy.  Kinda quiet.  But harmless, I assure you."

"You're spending a lot of time with him, though," Miss L emphasized.

Guin gave another nonchalant shrug.  "He likes being one-on-one with people, not in crowds.  And aside from Russian, most of his languages are rusty and halting, so he enjoys having someone he can speak fluently with, even if I can't always match his skill.  At least I understand him."

"And you're letting him stay in the NorthWest Annex because..." Kai prompted.

"Because there's room," Guin answered, her expression turning steely.  "Because Connor has -- had -- the games he knows how to play.  Because as a recluse type, it affords Mr. Zamenov some privacy.  Because the Annex is big, and it's nice to have someone else in there right now.  He has a room, I have my chambers, and there are locks on my door, so I'm safe if he were to try anything, which he has not."  Guin looked pointedly at each of her fellow Wenches in turn.  "No, he is not a replacement for Connor, nor is he my new master, but he is good company."  Guin finished with a glare at the entire congregation.  "I can't believe I'm having to defend myself to this group -- some of my best friends among my clansibs."

"It's because we're your friends that we worry about you," Miss L replied gently.

Guin shook her head sadly.  "If you're my friends, then trust my judgment now."  She stood up.  "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to attend to my new friend."  Guin strode across the room and down the hall toward the Annex.

"Guess we'll just have to hope the absent masters return soon," Sneaker said with a sigh.  "They'll know what to do with this Zamenov dude."

Guin could identify Sneaker's skipping footsteps echoing in the cavernous hallway entrance to the NorthWest Annex.  "Heads up," she said softly to Connor, who was reclining in a seat opposite her in his library.  "Sneaker's coming."  Connor straightened up, pulling some of his wig hair over his face as he leaned forward over the backgammon board.

Sneaker fairly bounced in through the open door.  "They're back!" she called gaily.  "The masters are back, they're on the approach road now."  Guin gave her a stern look, and Sneaker's face fell.  "I'm sorry, Guin, I wasn't thinking.  I know the one you want won't be with them..."

Guin blasely waved her hand in the air.  "It's okay, Sneak.  I'll be there to greet them too.  Just give me a few, okay?"

"Oh.  Okay."  Crestfallen, Sneaker left the room.  Guin made sure her clansib was well down the hall before she closed and locked the library doors.

"Guess that's my cue," Connor said quietly.  Guin nodded, her face sad.  "I'll let you know where to send the stuff I packed."

Guin nodded again.  "Write to me now and again, will ya?  And don't forget me, or the Tavern."

Connor grinned.  "I can always come visiting from time to time as Kostya Zamenov."

"Yeah, you could," Guin laughed.  "And it wouldn't get a complaint from me."  Her face turned solemn.  "I'll miss you."

Connor nodded.  "Me too."  He let out a long breath of air through his nose.  "Ready to pretend you're grieving while Zamenov makes a quiet getaway?"

"Not all the grief will be fake."  Guin gave him a quick hug.  "Let's go."

Guin slowly entered the vast Tavern room alone, her face molded into a visage of sorrow.  Looking at Duncan, she saw his face was criss-crossed with heartbreaking pain, despite being surrounded by his favorite Wenches.  A deep twinge of sympathy ran through Guin.  Connor, why are you doing this to him? she thought.  He's your only family.  You should tell him, especially now that Duncan's ordeal with this other Immortal is over.

Guin noted briefly that many of the Forumlanders had joined in on the welcoming party at the Tavern, including a rather morose table at the back occupied by the likes of Big John, Celedon, Shelly, and other friends of Connor.  Methos and Joe had seated themselves at tables with their Wenches as Duncan approached her.  "I'm sorry, Guin," he said softly.

Guin nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat.  "Me too."

Duncan reached over and gently rubbed her shoulder.  "How are you holding up?"

"Okay."  Guin gave an uncomfortable half-shrug.  "How are you holding up?"

Duncan shrugged.  "As well as could be expected, under the circumstances."  He gently placed a hand on her shoulder.  "If you need anything..."

"I don't," Guin interrupted quietly.  "Really.  I'm okay."  out of the corner of her eye, Guin watched "Zamenov" skirt the outside of the gathered crowd and head toward the door.

Sneaker cleared her throat pointedly at Duncan's elbow, and Duncan turned his head toward the movement.  "That's him?" he asked.  Sneaker nodded.  Guin shuddered as Duncan called out, "Hey you!  Stop!  Stoi!"  Duncan dashed after the retreating figure and Guin turned to Sneaker, arms folded across her chest.

"You had to tell him, didn't you?" Guin asked, flashing an angry look at her clansib.

"We're just protecting you..."

"You're ruining everything!"  Guin stormed toward Duncan, who had caught Zamenov by the arm.

"What do you want here?" Duncan said furiously as the other man kept his face turned away.  "And what do you want with Guin?  If you're even thinking of taking some sort of advantage of this poor grieving woman..."

"Duncan, leave him alone!" Guin cried.  "He's a nice man who has been keeping me company with his intellect.  If he's choosing to leave, then let him leave."

"Only if he can convince me he has no misguided intentions toward you or anyone else here," Duncan said firmly, glaring at the stranger.  "When he can look me in the eye and convince me, then he can leave."

Guin swallowed hard.  She knew once Duncan recognized Connor's face, the jig was up.  And there was no doubt in her mind that the younger Highlander would recognize his kinsman immediately.  Guin looked around, trying to find some means to get Duncan to let go and to let Zamenov -- Connor -- get away cleanly.  When nothing else came to sight, Guin rested her hand on top of Duncan's, which was still tightly gripping Connor's arm.  "Please, Duncan, just let him go."

"Does he have you so tightly in his grip?" Duncan asked angrily.  "Come on, you coward," he addressed the stranger, "face me."

Guin gritted her teeth and watched Duncan's face as Connor finally turned his head.  Duncan's jaw fell open as recognition struck him.

"You liar," Duncan growled, shoving his kinsman backward.  "You snake in the grass."  Another shove, harder this time.  "You fake your own death," Duncan's voice grew louder as he shoved Connor again, "just to get me to fight.  Well, I'll show you a fight."  Duncan finally shoved Connor into the wall, drew back his fist and let loose with a punch that smacked Connor's head against the wall.  Connor winced at the flash of pain.

"I guess I deserve that," Connor acknowledged.

"Damned right you do," Duncan replied sourly, shaking his head.  "Do you know what you put me through?" he added, his voice still angry.

"I do.  But I did it for your own good."  Connor spared a glance toward the Tavern full of people, most faces in shock, and only Guin's face recovered enough to flash him some sympathy.  Connor extended his hand to his kinsman, looking Duncan in the eye as he did so.  "I'm sorry."

Duncan let a long, frustrated breath out through his nose, eyeing the other Highlander thoughtfully.  After a minute of indecision Duncan reluctantly accepted the offered hand.  Connor pulled Duncan into an embrace, and the two hugged for a long moment.  Duncan was wiping away a stray tear as they let go.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Duncan said quietly.  "I know you said you were tired of your Immortality, but I was hoping you'd survive anyway."

"And I have."  Connor gave a sly smile.  "I still like having my head."

Duncan smiled back.  "I'm glad you've still got it, too."

"Shall we discuss what really happened?" Connor asked.  Duncan nodded.  "Wench," Connor snapped his fingers at Guin, "two glasses of Glenmorangie, in my chambers."

"Yes sir!" Guin replied, giving him a mocking salute.  "But may I suggest you get rid of that God-awful fake hair first?  And go greet Big John and the others over there before they completely fall over in shock?"

Connor laughed.  "Good call."  He tousled Guin's hair playfully as he walked by her toward the stunned Forumlanders.

"We can have our discussion later," Duncan called to him.  "First let's celebrate the return of all the heroes to the Tavern."  Gemma handed Duncan a glass of champagne, and he raised it high.  "To the good guys -- may they always survive."

Many, many, many thanks to Lady Vivianne MacWench for throwing out the idea that this tale is spun from.