Guin pulled the brushed cotton blanket up to her chin.  She’d been lying awake for what she guessed to be a half hour now, listening to the newly-arrived rainstorm patter against the wall of windows and watching the last embers glow in the fireplace.  She relished the sensation of Andrew’s body spooned next to hers, his arms around her waist and his breath warm against her neck.  He’d been wandering in and out of dreams since before she’d awakened, twitching slightly as the visions passed through his mind.  Like the previous week, his arms were securely locked around her in an immobile embrace; Guin had considered waking him to let go, but it didn’t seem important enough to interrupt his sleep.

Suddenly Andrew twitched violently, tightening his embrace.  Hardly able to take a breath, Guin tried to pull his arms from her.  Andrew only pulled even tighter and fiercely whispered, "No!"

Beginning to panic, Guin kicked at his legs and pushed with all her might against his embrace.  "Andrew!" she called out sharply.  With a jolt Andrew released her and sat bolt upright, eyes wide and breathing hard.  Regaining her own breath, she turned to face him, stroking his forehead and holding his hand.  "It’s okay," she said gently, caressing his cheek.  "It was just a dream."  Andrew’s eyes closed for a minute, then reopened with the same dull, burning emptiness she had seen in them the week before.  "Lie down," she told him, gently easing him back to the pillows.  Stretching out next to him, she pulled the tartan blanket over them both.  Propped up on one elbow, she stroked his cheek and looked into his eyes, the pain there invading her as if it were her own.  Gently Guin leaned over and kissed his forehead.  "It was just a dream."

"Not just a dream."  He closed his eyes and shook his head, as if to scatter the memories of his vision.

"Tell me about it, then.  Maybe it would help."

Andrew shook his head again, not opening his eyes.  Disappointed, Guin curled up against him and laid her head on his chest.  He pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her.  "I know I should tell you, it’s just that..."

"You don’t have to tell me," Guin reassured him, snuggling in closer.

"I want to tell you.  I need to tell you."  Andrew rested his chin on the crown of her head, stroking her back.  "It’s just not a nice story."  He sighed heavily, pausing to gather his thoughts, then began.  "When John was an infant, he and Brenda and I were taking a trip up into the deeper regions of the Highlands.  We were on a winding, narrow road, and Brenda was taking her turn driving."  Andrew paused for a few breaths, and Guin felt him swallow hard.  "A car swerved around a blind corner, driving on the wrong side of the road."

"Tourists."

"Yes, tourists.  They slammed full-speed into the front of our car.  Brenda and I were both ejected from the car, in spite of our safety belts."  He paused again, as if deciding how to continue.  "By the grace of God, I was only knocked unconscious for a while.  John had survived without injury, and was screaming from the back seat when I awoke.  I rescued him, then went to Brenda.  Her side of the car took most of the impact, and she was thrown quite a distance from the car.  She must have died almost immediately, just as the two tourists in the other car had.  She was gone by the time I reached her, anyway."  Guin could feel his shuddering breaths and rough swallows as he paused, fighting tears.  "John fell asleep next to me as I cradled her...I cradled her body until the next car came by and they got help.  I must have cried for hours, holding her.  I could hardly bear to let her go, even knowing her spirit had slipped away."  He sniffled and sighed roughly.  "That’s what I dream about, them trying to take her body from my arms."

"Oh Andrew."  Guin squeezed him tightly, unsure of what else to say.  "Does anyone else know about these dreams?"

"Only John.  I stopped having them a while ago, but then they started again recently."

"How recently?" she asked, although she had already guessed the answer.  Andrew remained silent.  "How recently?" she repeated adamantly, rolling to one side and looking into his face.

"Since I met you," he confessed uneasily.  He propped himself up on one elbow, taking her chin in his hand.    "Guin, don’t take that as a bad sign.  I know it doesn’t sound good.  But I think the reason is that...you’ve awakened feelings in me that I haven’t had since Brenda died."

"And is that a good thing?" she asked, worry seeping into her voice.

"Yes, it is," Andrew reassured her, pulling her tight into his embrace as he settled back onto the pillows.  "It’s a very good thing."

Guin settled her head back under his chin.  "A college friend of mine died in a car accident," she began softly.  "Someone ran a red light going 70 miles an hour and slammed into his car.  I wasn’t there, but the news really shook me up.  And I had a hard time talking about an accident I’d been in, and no one was even hurt in that.  I can’t imagine..." Guin reached for his hand and entwined her fingers in his.  "What I’m trying to say is that I know it wasn’t easy for you to tell me all this."  She could feel Andrew nod his head as he squeezed her hand.  "But I’m glad you did.  I just wish I could make the nightmares go away."

"They’ll go away on their own, eventually."  He sighed softly in her hair.  "Do they scare you?"

"No.  Not really."

"Are you sure?"

Guin furrowed her brow.  "It worries me, naturally, but it doesn’t scare me.  What are you getting at, Andrew?  Spit it out, hon."

"Never mind."  He shrugged.  "It’s not important."

"Don’t you ‘never mind’ me, after you ask me something like that."  She tugged at his hand.  "Tell me."  Her voice took on a devious tone.  "Or else be submitted to my tickle torture."

"All right," he laughed, then turned serious.  "I don’t want to lose you over something like this," he said quietly, stroking her hair.

"I may be highly sensitive, but it does take an awful lot to scare me off.  Trust me."  I hope so, Andrew thought, still fretting as he cradled her.  Because Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod needs you even more than Andrew Beaton does.  The urge to confess his "dark secret" passed over him, but he could tell by her soft breathing that she was finally relaxing again back to sleep.  Later, he thought.  There’s plenty of time.