Duncan decided that losing to Connor at poker was an old trick. He was accustomed to losing to the sullen-eyed older immortal � �twas past time that he should win. He glared at the cards in his hand for the second time. Or was it the third? He glared at the glass of whisky as if it had abruptly traded the cards in his hand without him knowing it.

A pair of TWOS? he grumbled internally. It doesn�t get much worse in poker than a pair of twos, unless you had one of each card and none of them in a row. Or in a suit. Connor�s face across the table was a blank slate, as usual. �I�ll take three,� said Duncan.

�That bad?� inquired the other man. He didn�t look up from his fist full of cards.

�Oh, shut up!� muttered Duncan. �The only thing good about this game is the Scotch.�

Connor quirked a smile and shot a glance at the clock. �Only the best, Duncan. Only the best.� He dealt the three cards and then tossed a few coins into the stack in the center of the table. �I raised a ten.�

�Just take the damn thing! Go on � take it!� stated Duncan. He tossed his cards haphazardly on the table and then tossed back the last of his drink.

Connor chuckled from his position, but left the coins where they lay. He placed his cards face up � nothing matched and there wasn�t even a pair. �You won this one, Duncan.�

�I did?�

�I think you�ve had too much to drink.�

�I have?� Duncan looked across the room. When did Connor put up that second Christmas tree? It wasn�t there before the poker game� �I think I have.� He chuckled, but it came out as more a giggle than anything else. �Good thing I trust you or I wouldn�t have my head.�

�You�re drunk. You DON�T have your head,� Connor pointed out dutifully. He shuffled the deck by habit and slipped the cards into their case. Then he rose and strode off into the kitchen.

�Wot you doing?� Duncan called after him. My grammar is going. I�ve had a wee dram too much. When there wasn�t any answer, Duncan rose and went into the other room � holding onto the wall to keep his course reasonably steady.

Connor MacLeod was pulling out a clean plate and then digging in his refrigerator. He produced a loose bunch of carrots, greenery and all, and put one on the plate. Then he headed for the pantry, going around Duncan as if he was a lamp in the center of the room.

�What are you doing?� Duncan asked again, concentrating on his use of language. The �What are� came out more as a �What�r.�

�John�s finally asleep. I�m making a plate for Santa,� announced the matter-of-fact voice from the pantry.

�Santa?� Duncan steadied his hand on the countertop and tried to focus. �Like in � Santa Claus?�

�That�s the one.�

�Santa�s on a diet?� Duncan chuckled, eyeing the carrot.

�No. Not exactly.� Connor emerged with a package of Oreos and crushed one partially over the plate, cascading crumbs across the white porcelain. He took a bite out of another and put the crescent remnants on the plate. Then he munched down the carrot to the green tips and stopped. It, too, was replaced on the white plate. Connor eyed him, patiently. There was a look of rich indulgence on his face. �You need more practice at this Santa stuff, Duncan.�

�Ziss like that Tooth Fairy business?� His brain definitely felt pickled. Am I even going to remember this, to dig Connor about it tomorrow?

�The carrots are for the reindeer, Duncan,� the elder Highlander explained patiently.

�Reindeer?�

�Santa�s sleigh? Ho ho ho? Flys through the air pulled by reindeer?� Connor had the plate in one hand and Duncan�s elbow in the other, pulling him unprotestingly along as he went into the other room. He put the plate down on the low table next to the brightly-lit Christmas tree.

Hey, now there�s only one? What�d he do with that other tree so quickly? soliloquized Duncan internally. �But, there is only one.�

�You�re mixing your metaphors again.�

�One carrot,� he corrected. He had to hang onto Connor with both hands and he wasn�t sure which one he had, since there were TWO Connors now, regarding him with amused eyes. �Would you quit wiggling around? You�re starting to multiply.�

�Wouldn�t THAT be a shock for the world,� the elder Scot chuckled. �I think you downed too much eggnog before that Scotch. And there was a whole lot of �nog� in that eggnog.�

�The carrot,� Duncan persisted. �There�s only one carrot.�

Connor sighed and pried Duncan�s grip loose, turning the younger immortal so he had a better grasp along his arm to steady him. �There are eight reindeer and they share � but I�m not about to nibble down eight carrots to satisfy one five year old boy! One nub will have to do!� He tugged the slightly wobbly man down the stairs and around the corner to the bedroom.

�I hear bells, Connor? Is that the sleigh?�

�Your head is ringing, mayhaps.� He tugged shoes and socks and pants off, pushing his kinsman until Duncan finally had to sit on the side of the bed. The shirt was next, pulled over Duncan�s head and making the dark hair pop with static from the soft cashmere. Just a respite from the sorrow, the older man thought. Tomorrow he will remember that Tessa is gone and put up a brave front for people who really just want his truth and can accept his pain. He levered the sleepy immortal sidelong on the bed and covered him with quilts � lots of quilts. The weight would comfort him; as if there were arms that still held him while he slept. And I will have a small boy full of excitement to tend to tomorrow � as well as a brother wounded. �Merry Christmas, Duncan,� he said aloud. �If I could put one thing under the tree, I know exactly what I would choose.�

�Merry Christmas, Tess,� murmured the bedding.

�Yes.� And Connor wished for the ten-thousandth time that supernatural powers came with immortality. He knew it wouldn�t be in his stocking, either. He leaned over and brushed a hand along his kinsman�s face and whispered, �Dream about her. It�s the best I can do.� He left the door ajar, so he could hear Duncan if he fell out of bed or had a nightmare. In passing, he did the same for John�s.

Two dark-eyed, dark-haired boys, dreaming. And Connor making the midnight rounds.

MacNairCDC
Christmas 2001

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