See Part One for Disclaimers

Part Three

Jonathan came home bruised and battered, but no more than usual.  He sensed something as he entered his home, the home he shared with his new love.  There was a tension.  Kesh was sitting on the couch in the dark, waiting for him.

"Kesh?"

"Jonathan."  There was a warmth of greeting in her voice as she moved to greet him.  She slid into his arms, holding him.

He frowned as he returned her hug.  "What's wrong?"

She sighed.  "No secrets from you, huh?"

He pulled back, leaving her loosely held, watching her face.  There were unshed tears in her eyes.

"I told you about Gary."

"Yes."

"Apparently, I missed something."

"What?  Family?  Are you in trouble?" The questions were foolish even as he asked them.

"Not exactly.  He came back."

He relaxed slightly.  "You have a ghost?"

"No -- an Immortal."

For a moment the answer made no sense.  "One of your own --"

"No.  Something else.  He's invisible, like a normal mortal.  Yet -- he's alive.  I -- My head is whirling.  I ran into an old friend while you were gone.  Gary was with him and another Immortal.  -- Oh, they're not a problem.  They're friendly."

"Not too friendly," he shot back lightly.  Something in her voice, in her body told him that Gary's return would change their relationship.  An old flame was one thing.  He could be assured that the affair was over, that she would not be tempted to go back.  This, the arrival of a long dead love, a man she had buried and was now back among the living, this was different.  Her love had not died, the man had.

She chuckled.  "No.  Adam and I had a short fling and parted on friendly terms.  Duncan's -- well, I've never been that friendly with the Celts for some reason.  Oh, I know, I was a goddess for a while in their history.  Familiarity is not condoned between worshipper and worshipped."  She grinned up at him.  She could see the tension playing in his eyes.  Damn.  This was not going to be easy.  Not at all.

"You're still in love with him."

"No.  I don't know.  I -- I've never, ever had this happen before."  She pulled him to her again and leaned against him.  "Jonathan, I love you.  Your cousin brought light back into my life.  You -- you keep it there.  But Gary was a light also, a light extinguished by his death.  I lived so long in the dark after that.  I am really confused."

He held her for a long time, just standing there, part of him jealously holding onto the warmth and loving she gave him, denying the other any right to her at all.  He loved this petite, brown skinned, brown eyed woman.  Loved her fiercely and gently and forever.  Forever.  A difficult concept with a lover who was immortal.  He wanted to deny this ghost from the past.

And if Aki walked into his life again, against all odds, against all logic -- what then?  What would he do?  He loved Kesh.  He loved Aki.  How torn would he be between the mother of his son, his first love and the woman he held now.  He understood suddenly the forces pulling at Kesh.  But he had no answer for her.  Which ever she chose, the other would be hurt.

He cupped her chin in one hand and pulled her face up so he could look into her eyes.  He kissed her, gently, deeply, fiercely.  She yielded, pliant against him.  She knew he did not want to let her go.  She did not want to go.  She wanted Jonathan.  But she also wanted Gary, to sooth the anger, the desperate need within the older man.  She let the passion in her rise, let it carry her and Jonathan again until it was spent.

She cuddled against Jonathan in the dark, listening to his quiet, even breathing.  He had not spoken of the boy.  He would tell her tomorrow, but it was obvious from his silence that the boy had not been his son.  She wished it had been, not just because of his desire to find the boy, but because the boy would fill the gap she would leave.

She knew that this had been the last time they would be together.  Jonathan was too private, too insulated to share her with Gary.  He could not share his life with too many people, could not let them touch him.  It hurt too much when he had to let them go again, when he moved on, whether to search for his son or because he had been in one place for too long.

Morning came with happy bird sounds and a soft breeze off the ocean.  Jonathan was already up when Kesh awoke.  She looked out the window.  Yep.  Meditation.  He sat in the center of the wooden deck he had built.  It extended out over the straight drop to the water behind the house.  The phone rang.  Kesh answered it.

"Yes.  I've made my decision.  You'd probably better come get me."

She showered and packed while she waited for the trio to show up.  She wanted to introduce them to him, but suspected it was not going to be a wise idea.  He was still sitting, staring out over the water when Gary arrived with Duncan and Methos.  She set her backpack and bag down by the doorway as she let them in.

"Shoes."

Duncan looked down and nodded, kicking off his loafers.  Methos and Gary followed suit.

"He's Japanese?"

"No.  He was raised in Japan."

They caught sight of him through the patio doors out the back of the house.  "That him?"

"Yes."

"Angry?"

"I think so."

"Want me to talk to him?" Methos offered.

She laughed.  "No.  I don't think your brand of philosophy on the situation would help.  Let me say good bye."  She looked at Methos and grinned.  "There's beer in the fridge."

She took a breath and walked out the doors, across the shady patio, across the soft grass and stopped at the edge of the platform.  She waited.

He was aware that she was behind him, aware of her as he was aware of few other people.  He continued to hold his meditational pose.  He had awakened about sun rise.  He could feel his anger, just under the surface.  He was angry with her for insinuating herself in his life, for lying to him, for -- for --

"Jonathan."

He ignored her.

She stood directly behind him, exactly where she knew his finely honed senses would play the most havoc with him.  "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to say."

"There isn't?  A man fifty years dead and buried walks back into my life, manages to not kill me, asks me to give him a chance and there's nothing to say?"

"You've already decided."  He stared at the water, refusing to turn toward her, refusing to let her see the hurt.

"I've decided?  Or you have?"

He stiffened at that.  "You're going with him," he pointed out softly.

"Yes."

"End of talk."

"No."

He turned, one smooth motion from seated to standing and facing her, his anger burning in his dark eyes, a slight breeze ruffling his curly dark hair.  His face was almost closed to her, his body tense in spite of his attempt to stay relaxed.  "What more is there to say?"

"I love you."

His eyes dropped from hers, a look of disbelief crossing his face.  "Right."

She stepped onto the wooden platform, stepping in close to him, invading his personal space but not touching him.  "Jonathan Raven, you are as bull headed a specimen as I've met."  That brought those eyes back around to look at her.  "Has it ever occurred to you that not all humans are meant to have only one love?  I have loved before, deeply.  Wondrously.  Never quite the same twice, but always deep enough, lasting enough that they are always with me.  I love you.  I love Gary, also."

He tried to keep his anger to shield him, to keep the soul deep hurt at bay.  Yet gazing into those dark brown eyes he knew she spoke the truth.  He could see the warmth in her eyes, the caring.  "It won't work," he told her.

"I know."  Her eyes brightened with unshed tears.  "I know.  Time and ingrained understandings are against us."  She reached up and touched his face with one hand, stroking his cheek, wishing she could break all conventions and get him to do so also, yet she could see the walls already beginning to close in, to separate them, to protect him.  "I won't stop caring.  I won't stop wanting, and he knows that.  He's had time to begin to adjust to being very, very long lived.  It's so different then.  Don't forget me."

He caught the small brown skinned hand in his, holding it to his cheek, feeling her warmth, taking in the feel and smell of her.  Instinct won over self-preservation.  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, one last kiss.  She melted against him, both of them oblivious to the medium height man who started to step out of the house into the yard, noticed them and stepped back in.  Methos rolled his eyes expressively and went to make certain neither Mac nor Gary stumbled on the scene in the back yard.

She stood with her head resting against his shoulder, safe within the circle of his arms.  "Oh, Jonathan.  I wish --"

He placed a finger against her lips.  "No.  No regrets."

She looked up and smiled.  "None?"

"None."

She accepted that, the anger seemed to have receded from his eyes.  "Jonathan."

"What?"

"Will you remember something for me?"

"What?" he repeated, a little wary now.

"If you need us, we will help.  If you need a place, for you, for your son.  I'll leave you a number.  It will always find me.  All right?"

He regarded her for a moment, considering.  He saw no ulterior motives in her face, only sincere concern, caring.  He nodded wordlessly.  "All right.  Give it to Ski, too?"

"Good idea," she agreed with a laugh.  She hugged him tightly and then let him go.  She stepped back, turned and ran lightly across the grass to the house where Gary waited for her.

He watched her vanish into the darker interior of his home.  This time, it didn't hurt as much as he had thought it would.  He knew, deep within, that the flame they had ignited still burned within her.  He knew that the love he felt would not turn cold, or angry.  He knew that this was different, somehow, from other loves.  He wished them luck as he returned to his meditation.

Inside, she joined Methos, Duncan and Gary.  All three looked at her curiously.

"It's ok."

"You're sure?" Gary needed to know that there would be no problems for her from this.  And none for him.

"Yes."

"You love him?"

"Yes."  Gary looked troubled again.  "And I love you.  For all society's insistence that only one love per person is right, society is wrong.  I can and have loved more than one other human several times.  In times where this was acceptable, we managed.  When it isn't, I have to make choices."

"Me over him?"

"No.  Jonathan isn't quite ready yet for that much closeness.  He thinks he is, he's trying to be.  But his background is not one built on trust and caring.  He's almost there, and he soon will be.  I think there's a very, very strong woman in his future.  One who can hold her own, yet needs the strengths he has to offer.  Together, they will build a home, a place he can be, a place he can bring his son, when he finds him."

"When?" Methos questioned.

"Not 'if'?" Duncan added.

She looked at both of them thoughtfully.  "Nope.  Definitely a 'when' scenario.  Libby's portrait doesn't lie.  Now, let's get out of here."

"Who's Libby?" Methos asked as they closed the gate to Jonathan's house behind them and piled into the late model convertible Duncan had rented.

"Long story.  I'll tell you on the trip."  She frowned for a moment.  "Uh, guys -- where exactly  are we going?" She regarded the three mischievous grins warily.

Epilogue

A week later:

"Jonathan -- Jonathan!" Ski wandered through the house and into the back yard where his young friend was blindfolded and working on his staff technique.

In quick succession, the black clad man put out a half dozen candles burning in tall rattan holders.  The end of his staff never touched one of them.  He froze and cocked his head sideways.  "Don't you ever remember to take off your shoes?" he asked.  It was almost a joke between them, Jonathan's oriental insistence on removing shoes before entering his home and Ski's chronic inability to remember to do so.

"Uh -- sometimes.  I got a letter."

"From?"

"Her."

"And?"

"She sent me an 800 number."

"Good."

"She says it's in case.  In case of what?"

Jonathan set the end of his staff on the ground and removed the blindfold.  He met Ski's open gaze.  "In case we ever need it," he told his friend.

"For what?"

Jonathan grinned at that.  "For a bolt hole, a safe haven, a place to rest."

"In case of Dragons, huh?"

"Something like that.  She sent me something, too."

"What?"

Jonathan led the way inside.  On a side table stood a glass case containing a beautiful oriental doll.  The kimono was exquisite brocade, over underlying silk kimonos in the ancient style.  Unlike most dolls, it was not carefully coiffed in the elaborate styles still affected by the geishas of Japan.  Hair like silk fell to her feet, obscuring the doll's face as she seemed to be looking down over the edge of the bamboo platform on which she stood.  There was a small plaque attached to the base.  Li Shan.

"Why can't you see her face?"

"I don't know."

"You sure  she sent it to ya?"

Jonathan looked at his friend oddly, then walked over to the trashcan and pulled the wrapping paper out of it.  He looked at the air bill on the wrapper.  He frowned.  Odd, he had been certain Kesh had sent this to him, yet there was no "sender" listed on the air bill, and it had been sent over night delivery from Kyoto.  He frowned at the doll.  He sensed nothing about the doll or the container.  He shrugged his shoulders and dropped the paper back into the trash.

"No.  But who else?"

Who else indeed.

fin

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