"How early are you, and how long have you been in labor?"
       "I'm six weeks early,"  Eithne managed, through gritted teeth.  "As
for how long... I'm not sure, but much longer than ever before.  And it
doesn't... feel right!"
       Dana's eyebrows lifted.  "You've had other children?"  She didn't
know why she felt surprised, but she was.
       "Aye, two.  Please... can you help?"
       "I'm going to have to examine you before I can tell."
       Eithne nodded, biting her lip.  Rolling up her sleeves, she drew on
a pair of examination gloves from her kit and knelt beside her patient.
As gently as she could she eased her hand into the birth canal, trying not
to hear Eithne's whimpers, thankful for once that she had small hands. It
was instantly clear what was wrong, there was no doubt whatsoever.  The
baby was coming rear-end first.  She sat back, collecting her thoughts,
trying to remember the important points of assisting a breech birth.
 Damn, why hadn't she paid more attention to that seminar?  She
would have to free the legs, keep the cord free of any constriction so
there was no loss of circulation from the placenta, and ease the arms
down.  Delivering the head would be the hardest part, but then, it would
be in a normal birth too!  It would need to be done now, as the baby was
already through the cervix to about its navel, and if she remembered right
once it was to that point things needed to move quickly.  She sat back and
looked up at the older woman who stood waiting.
       "What's your name?"
       "Banbha."
       "Beva?"  she asked, confirming her pronunciation.  "All right, I
may be able to help, but you have to realize it will be the first time
I've attempted anything like it."
       "But you know what to do?"  Banbha asked anxiously.
       "Technically, yes."
       "What can we do to help?"
       "I'm going to need someone to help me, and it would help if she
were higher, so I had better leverage.  A table would be good, something
about waist high."
       "A table..."  Banbha made a movement and Dana gasped in shock,
almost falling over backward as something *changed* and Eithne was lying
on a table, waist high, no longer on the ground.  She stood up quickly,
gaping at it.
       "Do you need anything else?"  Banbha asked.
       Dana blinked at her, dumbfounded, still not quite believing that
the table had just appeared out of nowhere. She reached out and touched
it, finding its surface smooth and hard beneath her hand.  It was a wooden
table, not a steel one, but still, just the fact that it was *there* was
outrageous!
       "I... I..."  she scowled, trying to think clearly.  Eithne moaned,
curling around her pain, and the sound galvanized Dana.  Grabbing her kit
she fished out a scalpel and a couple of needles, along with suture silk.
       "I need soap and water to wash up with, and some boiling water to
sterilize these, just in case I end up having to do an episiotomy."
       "You can't use those."  Banbha said quietly.  "Let me see them, I
will create something you can use."
       Dana stared at her.  "Why can't I use them?"
       "They are steel, she would never heal from a wound made by that.
Please, hold them out so I can see them clearly."
       Dana held them out, and Banbha studied them for a long time, then
closed her eyes, a frown of intense concentration marring her beauty.  A
moment later she held out her hand; on her palm lay an object the same
size and general shape as Dana's scalpel, but the shaft looked like wood,
and the blade seemed to be made of black glass.  Dana picked it, testing
the weight and feel of it, and looked at Banbha questioningly.
       "What is the blade made of?"
       "Obsidian.  I thought of bronze, but it is not so sharp.  This will
function better, won't it?"  she sounded anxious.
       Dana nodded, recalling an article she'd read in about eye surgeons
using obsidian blades because they made a cleaner incision and left less
scarring.  It was, she smiled to herself at the pun, cutting-edge
technology, for all its stone-age appearence.
       "It should do fine.  What about a needle?"
       Banbha looked past her to the others gathered in the cave.
"Brede?"
       One of the other women stepped forward, her gown was embroidered
heavily around the neck and hem in dizzying swirls.  Opening a pouch at
her waist she drew out a scrap of soft leather.  Four very thin needles
pierced it, gleaming in the odd, diffuse light that filled the cave,
though it seemed to have no source.
       "They're silver, and won't harm her."  Brede said softly.  "I would
be honored if you would use them."
       Dana accepted the packet solemnly.  "Thank you.  What about the
nylon suture?  Could it hurt her?"
       "May I see it?"  Brede asked.
       Dana held out the spool.  Brede examined it, drawing a section
through her fingers.  She shook her head. "No, this should not harm her."
       "Good.  Where's the water I needed?"
       Someone came forward with a large bowl full of steaming water.
Dana dropped the needles and scapel into it.  The wooden shaft buoyed the
stone blade so that it floated on the water.  She shook herself, wondering
if she would wake in a moment to find that she'd dreamed it all.  A second
bowl of water was brought along with soap, and she washed her hands, then
drew on a new pair of gloves.  Her hands were trembling.  She turned away
a moment, trying to get herself under control.  Silently she prayed to the
god she hadn't quite believed in for years, hoping she could pull this
off.  Finally she turned.
       "I'm ready.  This is going to hurt like hell, so hang on to her
hands and be ready to hold her still."
       Brede stepped forward and took Eithne's hands, gazing down into her
eyes, and she began to sing, the melody reminded Dana a little bit of the
song Fionn had sung on the way here.
       Banba smiled.  "We'll see to her, she'll have no pain."
       Dana didn't ask how, but for some reason didn't doubt that they
could do that.  It was just part and parcel of the whole bizarre
situation.  Banbha placed her hands on Dana's shoulders, looking down into
her eyes with concern.
       "What of you?  Are you well?"
       Scully took a deep breath, and nodded.  "I'm fine, a bit nervous,
but fine."
       Banbha gazed at her with steady confidence.
       "Do what you must, you will succeed."
       Oddly, Dana suddenly felt more confident. She moved around the
table to where she could more easily reach Eithne and went to work.
       "Banbha, you'll need to keep a gentle, steady pressure on her
abdomen, pushing the baby toward me.  Can you do that?"
       The older woman nodded, and took her place.  Dana worked a hand
into Eithne's body, amazed that her action didn't draw even a gasp from
her patient.  The powerful muscles were contracted, trying to expell the
child, and she had to wait for the contraction to end before she could
carefully free one of the baby's legs, drawing it down from its flexed
position.  It was terrifying, trying to gauge the right amount of
pressure... too little and nothing happened, but too much and she could
injure the child.  Her fingers kept going numb from the pressure against
them, and she was sweating with exertion as she fought against the
contractions that hampered her.  Sweat was dripping into her eyes and she
wiped her face on her sleeve ineffectually, wishing someone would do it
for her.  Before the thought was finished one of the other women was at
her side with a cloth, blotting the sweat away, then stepping back, near
enough to do it again when needed, but out of the way.  Dana muttered a
terse thank-you and concentrated on Eithne again.
       With the first leg freed Dana was was able to draw down a loop of
the umbilical so there was less stress on it.  She could feel a strong
pulse in the cord that reassured her.  Whatever they were doing to Eithne
to keep her from feeling pain must be working, because she wasn't even
whimpering at things Dana knew would have even the bravest soul screaming
in pain.  She managed to spread her fingers over the baby's rear and
thighs, and gently pulled downward, drawing the infant out far enough that
she could start fighting again, this time to sweep its arms down from
where they were crossed over its chest.
       When the next contraction rippled through Eithne, since the
blockage of flexed legs and arms had been cleared, the baby's shoulder and
arm slid free.  For the first time, she could see the back of its neck and
head.  It was time.  Desperately trying to remember exactly what she was
supposed to do, she put her forearm under the baby's body to support it
and slipped two fingers into its mouth to draw its head into a better
birth position.
       "Eithne, when the next contraction comes I need you to push, push
hard!  Banbha, you too!"
       As they complied, Dana put her other hand over the baby's shoulder,
her fingers spread on either side of its neck, and pulled evenly with both
hands.  The baby slid downward an inch or so, no more.  Dana longed to
ease her hand free and shake it to return circulation and feeling, but
that would mean starting over so she ignored the needle-like pains in her
arm and kept at it.  It took three more tries, but the baby finally slid
free in a rush of amniotic fluid and blood.
       Dana felt a rush of irrational joy... as if she, not Eithne, had
just given birth.  She turned it... him, upward, holding him carefully as
she gazed down into his unfocused eyes, and messy little face, grinning
like an imbecile.  Collecting herself, she cleared his tiny mouth and
gently massaged him into breath.  He hiccoughed twice, then settled into a
steady rythm.  She shuddered with relief.  She'd done it!  He seemed to be
normal and healthy, he was breathing on his own, his color was good... she
breathed a quiet sigh of relief and quickly tied off the umbilical and cut
it with the obsidian scalpel.  Maybe her pride wasn't so irrational...
without her, he might not have made it into the world alive.
       "He's beautiful," said softly, marvelling at how long he was.  He
was a surprisingly big baby, especially since he was early, with
cafe-au-lait skin and distinctly African features.  As she checked him
over, though, something odd caught her attention as she cleaned him up
with a warm, damp cloth someone had handed her, and she looked more
carefully.  Her jaw dropped, and she barely managed not to swear in
surprise.  Banbha must have read her consternation on her face for she
leaned close.
       "What is it?  Is something wrong with the child?"  she demanded in
a whisper.
       "I... well... yes, and no.  He... she seems to be healthy, but..."
       "But what?"
       "Well, it seems... I mean..."  Dana stopped, frustrated.  There was
no easy way to say it, so she just came out with it.  "He... um... it
appears to be hermaphroditic."  she said, taking refuge in medical-ese.
It didn't work.  Banbha shook her head, puzzled.
       "It's what?"
       "It has both male *and* female genitalia!"  she said in a tight
hiss.
       Banbha stared at her for a moment, then a smile spread across her
face.  "Of course it does, we don't choose a primary gender until much
later.  'Tis normal for us."
       Dana gaped, feeling utterly dumbfounded.
       "Normal?  This is normal?"
       "Aye, completely."
       "I... I... well, if you say so."
       "I do, so be easy with it.  Give the child to Brede to clean and
wrap now before Eithne starts to worry."
       Dana nodded and carefully passed the child to Brede, then turned
back to Eithne to attend to the delivery of the placenta, trying not to
let on how shaken she was.  Until that moment, she'd been able to just
think of them as a quirky group of historical reenactors.  This, however,
confirmed their alienness in a way she could never have anticipated.  What
had Banbha meant when she said they didn't chose their primary gender
until later?  She had thousands of questions fighting for precendence in
her mind, but she didn't feel that she could ask any of them.  Fighting
off the urge to sit down and rest, she deliberately set her mind to the
task at hand and blocked out the rest.
 
 
 

                            ####
 
 

       Dana sat bolt upright, startled and disoriented.  It took her a
moment to figure out that she was in bed at Maire's cottage.  Odd, she
didn't even remember going to bed!  Her clothes were neatly folded on the
small dressing table.  On top of them lay an unfamiliar object.  She
reached over and picked it up.  It was a small chamois pouch with
something small and heavy inside it.  She eased the drawstring open and
shook the object out into her hand.  It was a small gold disk, about an
inch in diameter, one face bore a small, rather grotesque female figure
which appeared to be exposing herself, and the other face held an
intricate triskele pattern. It looked like some sort of ancient coin,
since it bore no jump-ring for a chain.
       Where had it come from?  What was it?  Why did she have it?  As she
turned it over and over in her palm, she began to remember the odd dream
she'd been having.  Delivering a baby?  Weird.  She must have been
thinking too much of Fionn last night, and her subconscious had pulled
Eithne out of her memory.  The beginning of the dream had been a lot like
the earlier one she'd had of him, starting out very sexy.  She could still
remember the hard impression of his arousal against her rear, the touch of
his lips on her neck.  After that it had gotten bizarre, ending with the
delivery of a baby.  She made a face, annoyed at this possible evidence
that her biological clock was trying to make its presence known.  What
else would explain these dreams, first about sex, then babies?
       Still puzzled by its presence in her room, she tucked the coin back
into the pouch and got up, glancing at her watch.  One o'clock?  That had
to be in the afternoon, since it was daylight.  Could it really be that
late or had her watch stopped?  She checked it again, and saw the
second-hand sweep around the dial.  It was working, but maybe it was slow,
or fast or something.  Yawning, she pulled on her sweats and headed for
the bathroom.  As she passed Maire's room she saw that the door was open
and her bed was neatly made.  Not surprising; she seemed to be an early
riser.  She went on into the bathroom and closed the door.

                                   ####
 

       "You're up finally?"  Maire greeted her as she wandered into the
kitchen.  "I thought you were going to sleep the day away, but figured you
must need the rest."
       "I guess I was more tired than I realized!  Is it really after
one?"
       "It is."
       "Sorry to be such a slug-abed,"  Dana apologized, smiling.  "By the
way, I found this in my room, is it yours?  Did you leave it there?"
       "What is it?"
       "This,"  Dana held out the chamois pouch.  Maire opened it and
fished out the coin.  She studied it for a long moment, then smiled a very
strange smile.
       "It's not mine, Dana, it's yours."
       "No, it's not... unless, do you mean you're giving it to me as a
gift?"
       "Oh no, it's not from me, and it's not a gift!  It's payment, for
services rendered."
       Dana stared at her.  "What do you mean?"
       "It's from Them.  They're paying you for your help last night."
       Dana felt a little weak-kneed and sat down abruptly on one of the
kitchen chairs.  "Them?"
       "The Gentry.  How did it go?  Were you able to help the mother and
child?"
       "But... that was a dream!"  Dana exclaimed.
       "No, it was real.  I saw you leave with him night before last, and
you were gone a full day.  I didn't hear you return, but when I got up
this morning you were in your bed.  They must have brought you back."
       "Gone *how* long?  That's impossible!  I don't remember..."
       "Sometimes, when you cross between the worlds, time is different,
and the crossing can do things to your mind, make you forget."
       Dana lifted a hand to her head, rubbing her forehead in confusion.
"My god... I can't believe this is happening to me!  This is...
incredible!  It's simply not possible!"
       "There are many stories of midwives taken to help the Gentry!"
       "That's just it, Maire!  They're *stories*!  Fairy tales!  Not
real!"
       "There's a grain of truth in almost every story, Dana."
       "Maire, this is making me crazy!  First Fionn, now this!  What's
*real* around here?"
       "It all is.  Just because it's different doesn't make it any less
real."
       Dana sighed.  "I wish Mulder was here!"
       "Why?"
       "Because he has a way of making the bizarre seem plausible."
       Maire chuckled.  "Sounds like an interesting man."
       Dana gave a derisive snort.  "That's one way to put it."  She shook
her head. "It's like I dreamed it all... except Fionn.  I know he was
real, on the plane at least.  I wish I could find him, talk to him, ask
him what's going on."
       "You can.  I know where you can find him, tonight at least.  It's
full moon and there's been a birth, he'll be at the stones."
       "What stones?"
       "The ring of stones on the hill above their house, on the cliffs
not far from Inishcrone."
       "Their house?  They have a house?"  For some reason that was harder
to believe than the thought of them living in some alternate universe.
       "They have to live somewhere when they're here, don't they?"
       "I... guess so.  But what makes you think he'll be at this stone
circle?"
       "As I said, his sister's just given birth, and it's full moon.
He'll be there.  It's..."
       "It's traditional,"  Dana finished for her.  "I take it these
people are pretty tradition bound."
       "Very much so."
       "But what am I supposed to do?  Hide behind a rock and wait for him
to show up?"  Dana demanded sarcastically.
       "If you like."
       "I don't.  I'd feel like a fool."
       "It's up to you *how* you do it, but you should go.  You have to go
and see if he's there, your Fionvarra.  Go and see if he walks to the
stones, and crosses over.  After that, if you still disbelieve, I'll say
no more, but do that much for me before you make up your mind that I've
lost mine."
       Dana shook her head, scowling.  "No."
 
 

                                         ####
 

       The bay looked unchanged.  It lay sparkling in the moonlight just
as it had for longer than even he could remember.  Fionn breathed in
deeply, tasting the sweet smoke of a distant peat fire.  That essence
seemed to be ingrained in his soul.  For too many years the only things he
had smelled were the cloying stink of half-spent hydrocarbons, and the
synthetic fragrances that Americans were so obsessed with.  They were
always covering up natural scents with unnatural perfumes.  It was a
strange passion.
       He walked up the hillside away from the house that stood at the
edge of the cliff, its physical location mirroring in a way its more
precarious position... that of standing between two worlds.  The world of
the Sidhe, and the world of Humanity.  It was a Gathering Place, and
always would be, whether the house stood there or not.  The land there
held a special property the Folk needed to survive, hidden in caverns deep
below the surface.
       His foot touched a stone half-hidden in the thick grass, and a
charged tingle raced upward from his bare toes.  He smiled.  A border-
stone.  He had reached the outer edge of the Gateway.  Humans and animals
would always feel uncomfortable here, and avoid it, but to him it was as
if he'd been reborn.  He stepped past the boundary and began to walk the
circumference of the Outer Circle, refamiliarizing himself with its shape
and feel.  It had been so long... so long... but he remembered it, his
body remembered even if his mind did not.  He felt the Crossing song well
up, and gave it voice, letting the words flow out of him like water, words
so old none of them knew their meaning any longer; no one but him.  He
knew a few of them now, after many years of searching and study, their
roots lay deep in languages dead for millennia.  He had traced them as far
back as he could, surprised and yet not surprised to find their source in
Human tongues.
       He wondered anew how his people had begun.  They must once have
been human... how else could they be genetically compatible?  But
somewhere back in the mists the Folk had taken a far different path, and
kept on it.  They had learned that the universe was both less, and more,
than it seemed.  They had learned to manipulate the world at its basest
level, to play with atoms like marbles.  Strange that the atoms they
played with had turned on them, might yet destroy them.  He thought of
Banbha and felt an unfamiliar pain in his chest.  Unconsciously his hand
tried to massage the pain away, but it was too deep, too far inside.  He
loosened his cloak and let it fall so he could move unhampered.  The night
air was cold on his skin, but it didn't bother him.  The ritual was his to
perform, but tonight he would Cross not just for her, but for Banbha as
well.
       "I cross over in your honor, you who are new born to this world.
Be in me,"  he whispered, and began the dance.
 
 

                                   ####
 
 

       Dana shivered in the cool dampness of the night, drawing her jacket
closer around herself, and feeling foolish.  How had she talked herself
into this?  What was she doing watching some stranger's house through
binoculars as if she were on a stakeout?  She was liable to run afoul of
the local constabulary, though Maire had assured her it was unlikely.  She
could hear the older woman as if she were with her.
       "You have to go and see if he's there, your Fionvarra.  Go and see
if he walks to the stones, and crosses over.  After that, if you still
disbelieve, I'll say no more, but do that much for me before you make up
your mind that I've lost mine."
       She had agreed, finally.  And now she was sitting behind a rock on
an Irish hillside spying on some unsuspecting family that happened to live
in a house that local legend had endowed with Otherworldly portent.  The
windows shone golden with light, and she could see the shadows of people
within as they moved.  There were a lot of people there, it must be a
party.  After a while the door opened, and a figure emerged to stand in
the courtyard, lit by the glow spilling from inside the house.  Someone
getting some fresh air, no doubt.  She focused the binoculars and nearly
dropped them.
       Fionn.
       She looked again, focusing carefully on the face, unable to believe
the coincidence, that he really *did* live in the house where Maire had
said he would.  It was him.  She had no doubt at all, despite the fact
that he seemed to be wearing a costume of some sort... a short,
light-colored tunic, and over it a checkered cloak.  She thought it was
yellow and black, but she couldn't be certain.  The tunic was so short he
probably couldn't bend over comfortably in public, and his legs and feet
were bare beneath it.  His long, thick hair was loose around his shoulders
like a lion's mane, falling to mid-back.  Uncomfortably she fingered the
clasp in her pocket, wondering if he'd missed it yet.
       He turned and said something to someone inside the house, and the
door closed, cutting off the light.  She strained to see more clearly, and
wished for a starlight-scope.  He was moving, walking... toward her.  She
lowered the binoculars and looked again.  She could just see him, in the
moonlight, walking up the hill toward the ragged stone circle that stood
on the hillside between the house and her position above it.
       "See if he walks to the stones, and crosses over.,"  Maire had
said.  Now he was walking toward the stones... but what had she meant by
`crosses over?'
       Dana watched him hike quickly up the hill, pausing once to stand
and stare out at the bay, then resume his walk.  As he came closer she
could see him easily.  He moved gracefully, quickly, with a stride that
reminded her of a leopard she'd seen at the zoo.  He was close now, close
enough that she could hear him singing... something minor-key and
haunting, with no words she could understand.  It reminded her of the song
he had sung as they rode toward Eithne.  He paused for a moment and
dropped his cloak.  She sucked in a breath, unprepared for her reaction to
him.  God, he was superb!
       The tunic left his arms bare, and they looked like sculpted marble.
Despite his height, he had a distinctly endomorphic build... compactly
muscular.  His hair spilled like ink over the pale fabric, looking black
rather than auburn in the moonlight.  The planes of his face were
highlighted and shadowed like a pen-and-ink drawing.  His legs were
beautiful... long, and powerful.  She imagined him naked, she imagined
those hard, arched thighs between hers, those solid arms around her, that
full, sensual mouth on her skin, the hard heat and weight of his body on
hers.  Warmth exploded through her, banishing her chill as she watched him
begin to move.
       His dance was like nothing she'd ever seen before.  There was
nothing balletic, or folk-dance, or modern or jazz about it.  Yet it was
unmistakably a dance.  It was also a pattern, working slowly from the
outer edge of the circle toward the center, spiraling ever inward.  He was
still singing, his voice soft and rough and sad.  She blinked.  Was it her
imagination, or were his steps leaving marks on the thick grass?
Footprints limned in faint phosphorescence.  No... she stared hard and the
glow didn't fade.  He *was* somehow leaving glowing footprints behind.
       Her analytic side speculated on how he'd done that.  Some sort of
substance on the soles of his feet?  Some property of the grass in the
area?  Some kind of bioluminescent insects?  Any one of those could be the
answer.  Her aesthetic side didn't care.  He was beautiful, the dance was
beautiful, the song was beautiful... she was enthralled.  She watched him
move closer and closer to the center of the circle, then finally he was
there, his back to her as he put his hands against the stone that marked
the center.  It was roughly waist-height to him, its base buried since
time immemorial in the dark, fertile earth.  He lifted his head, gazed at
the moon, and moved his hands apart with a soft cry.
       The stone split in two, brilliant golden light spilling from inside
it.  It opened, like a door.  A door into *what*?  A door into *where*?
She found herself on her feet, trembling, as she watched that impossible
space widen, and the light bathe him, his figure casting a distinct shadow
up the hill behind him.  He laughed, and spoke some word she couldn't
understand, and stepped down somehow, into the stone, into the light.  She
reacted without thought, on instinct, as if he were a fugitive about to
escape.  She ran down the hill toward the rapidly narrowing glow, and
flung herself headlong after him.
       She saw him turn, his eyes widening in... fear?
       "NO!!!!"  he screamed as she crossed the threshold.
       Chaos.  Confusion.  Pain.  Light that was darkness, sound that was
taste, scent that was sound... excruciating, agonizing, brilliant pain, as
if every molecule of her body were being individually torn apart.  She
convulsed as she fell upward toward him, and there was nothing to hold
onto, no ground, no walls, no up, no down.... nothing.  She was suspended
in nothing, her body exploding into a nova of agony.  She tried to cry out
and saw her voice.  Some tiny, rational part of her mind tried to explain
what was happening.  Synesthesia?  Then a ball of roiling crimson darkness
expanded behind her eyes.  The last thing she felt were hands, something
real and knowable, as they closed around her arms.
 
 
 

                                   ####
 
 
 
 

       Thirsty.  She was thirsty.  She licked her lips, hoping to moisten
their dryness, but her tongue was nearly as parched.  There was something
tight around her shoulders, and she wasn't very comfortable in a
half-sitting, half-lying position, with something bumpy under her rear and
thighs.  She was also moving slightly, back and forth.  It was making her
seasick.  She could hear someone speaking, a soft, soothing almost-
whisper, deep and low.  A man's voice.  Maybe he'd get her a drink.
       "Irstee,"  she managed hoarsely, and flinched at the increased
pounding in her temples.  She heard a gasp, and she thought for a moment
she was falling backward, but something behind her shoulders slowed the
movement, though her head was now tipped uncomfortably backward.  What the
hell?  Where was she?  She opened her eyes to find Fionn's face close to
her own, wearing an expression that seemed to combine fear, concern,
surprise, and joy, all at once.  It finally registered that he was holding
her in his lap, rocking her like a child.
       "Ah, thank the Mothers!  You're alive!"
       She stared at him for a long moment, puzzled.  "Yeah, shouldn't I
be?"  Or that was what she'd meant to say.  It came out more like "Eah,
shun ee bay?"
       He laughed, and leaned down, his lips sealing hers.  Suddenly she
forgot all about hurting, all about thirst, all about confusion.  His
mouth was magical, soft, yet firm, the pressure just right.  She lifted
her arms and slid them behind his neck, burying her fingers in the thick
silk of his hair, drawing him closer, urging him to more intimacy.  He
yielded for a moment, his tongue slicking into her mouth, moistening the
dryness, and exciting her unbearably, then he pulled back with a gasp.
       "Nay, lass... you're nowhere near ready for that yet.  How do you
feel?"
       Disappointed by his reaction, it took her a moment to marshall her
thoughts coherently.  She realized she felt awful, which was a real
contrast to what his mouth had made her feel.
       "I feel..."  her words were more intelligible now.  "...like
someone worked me over.  What happened?"
       "You Crossed Over, unprepared, and alone.  For a mortal that could
be fatal, you're lucky I was able to catch you and bring you back!  In
fact, you're damned lucky to be alive!  What d'you think you were doin'?"
       For a *mortal*?  What was that supposed to mean, she wondered, as
she answered him.  "I was following you."
       "Why, for Pete's sake?"  he asked, the Americanism slipping oddly
from his mouth.  "Were you after killin' yourself?"
       "I didn't know... I just wanted to talk to you, and I thought you
were going away."
       "Oh,"  he looked a bit taken aback.  "but to follow me into the
Tir... lass, how could you be so foolish?"
       "What's... the teer?"
       "Tir nan Og, the Summerland.  Surely you've heard of... no, I can
see you've not.  Leave it to an ignorant American to follow where the
proverbial angels fear to tread."
       Dana bristled, trying to sit up, only to realize she was on his
lap, held in his arms.  She subsided, scowling.
       "I am not ignorant!"  she snapped
       "Yes, y'are.  In these things, anyway.  Lass... never travel in
myths you've not researched."  he said in utter seriousness.
       "But *where*... I mean, what is it?  Why shouldn't I have followed
you?"
       "'Tis another world, one that lies beside, or perhaps more
accurately, inside yours.  One your human senses cannot fully comprehend
or deal with."
       She struggled upright, pushing away from him.  "What do you mean,
one my *human* senses can't comprehend?"
       He smiled, shaking his head.  "Ah, lass, you still don't see?
You're human, I'm not."
       Dana suddenly wondered if she was dreaming.  Dreams didn't have to
make sense.  In a dream one could carry on a perfectly deranged
conversation like this with impugnity.  She pinched the skin of her wrist
and winced.  It hurt, which unfortunately meant she wasn't dreaming.  She
studied him... he seemed perfectly human to her.
       "Then what are you?  An alien?  You don't look like an alien.
They're supposed to be little guys with big heads, black eyes, and gray
skin."
       His smile faded somewhat.  "No, we're not them, and they're not us.
We're just a different kind of native, as much children of Earth as you
are, only we're not quite the same.  Where your ancestors learned to use
fire, mine learned to use the mind.  Over time we became two very
different kinds of being, though we may have begun the same."
       "Right,"  she said sarcastically.  "How stupid do you think I am?"
       "Oh, not stupid at all.  You're probably far more intelligent than
I am, and definitely more learned in the way Humans think of learning.
You're just ignorant in this thing, as I said."
       "Okay, show me how you're different, then.  You don't look
different."
       "I will..." he said softly, a teasing smile playing around his
mouth.
       He closed his eyes, she felt a shifting, a strange shiver of his
skin where it touched hers.  Beneath her thighs she felt something change,
sinking away; where her back rested against his chest she felt a new
pressure and softness.  His face blurred and softened, his lips became
fuller, redder, his features finer and less masculine, his eyebrows
thinner...  He opened his eyes and it hit her suddenly, what was
different.
       "Oh my god!"  she gasped, and suddenly Banbha's words about
choosing a gender made sense.
       "Aye, you see it now.  And that's just one example of how we're
different."  Even the voice was dissimilar... higher, huskier, rounder.
Just subtly, but enough.
       She fought free of his... her embrace and knelt on the bed, facing
Fionn; staring at the long, sleek legs, so much rounder now, with that
underlying layer of fat that makes a woman's body softer-looking than a
man's.
       "You're... you're..."
       "Female.  Aye, for the moment, though I can hold it for only a day
or so without the Earth's help to remold me.  To change like this is a
minor thing, a parlor trick."
       "But... how?"
       "The same way I can do this..."  he waved a hand at the chamber
they were in.  The bedcover shimmered and changed from aqua to a deep,
rich purple, then became fur.  The bed writhed and became dark walnut
instead of pale oak. A fireplace sprang into being where a window had
been.
       "Stop, please, it's making me dizzy."
       "I'll not do it any more.  I just wanted to prove my point."
       "How... how do you do it?"
       "I... look at how it is, and then I make it as I wish it to be.  I
look deep, and make the changes there, and they... become.  I know that
makes no sense to you, but I can't explain it any other way.  To me 'tis
instinctive, to you 'tis impossible."
       She closed her eyes, feeling sick as another realization hit her.
       Brother Andrew..."
       Fionn nodded, frowning.  "I believe he was one of us, though
untrained and nearly as ignorant as you.  He could have killed you, the
fool!  It doesn't take anywhere near that level of glamour to make a human
woman willing."
       "Is that what you did you me... in Ennis?  A glamour?"  Dana asked
softly.
       Fionn flushed and would not meet her gaze.  "I started to, yes, but
then I realized it was wrong.  I had never realized that before.  I've
lived four-hundred lifetimes, and never saw it was wrong before.  I had no
right to touch you without your consent.  Please forgive me.
       His, no, her, eyes were shadowed and clear, without deception.
Dana felt she was looking into his soul.  Her soul.  This was so
confusing!
       "I will forgive you, but tell me this, *why* do you do that?  Why
do you need to take human lovers?"
       S/he sighed.  "Because there are so few of us.  For a long time
that didn't matter, we haven't the same inhibitions you humans do.  But
then the children began to show the effects of it... the Be'an were born,
the Pooka.  They were made wrongly, sometimes in body, sometimes in mind,
sometimes both.  Only by studying Human science did we find out what was
wrong.  We had become too inbred.  From then on we had to look to
Humankind for lovers and mates, to make sure no more monsters were
created."
       Monsters...  Dana shivered, thinking of Eugene Tooms.  Could he
have been one of those?  A malformed, mutant Faerie child?  Was he the
product of the Kindred?  The elasticity of his muscular and skeletal
structure could be an outgrowth of this shapechanging abililty.  She had
to accept Fionn's tale, it seemed.  What choice had she?  She'd met the
Kindred, and she'd seen, and more importantly, *felt* Fionn change from
male to female.  The reality was there, unless she really was dreaming.
But this was unlike any dream she'd ever had.
       "Why are you telling me this?"  she asked, trying to make sense out
of everything. "Aren't you afraid I'll betray you?"
       Fionn smiled, his features blurring as he shifted back to his male
form.  "To whom?  None would believe you, save those who already know of
us.  You don't even believe it yourself, do you?"
       Dana felt shaken, knowing he was right.  She didn't, and no one
else would either.  Even Mulder would have a hard time with this one.
Thinking of him she suddenly realized... was this how Mulder felt?
Knowing something was true, yet having no one believe you, doubting even
yourself?  She didn't like it.  It made her feel helpless, and paranoid.
       "Aye, it does, doesn't it?  You should be easier on him.  He's no
fool, that one."
       She gasped, eyes narrowing as she studied him, knowing she hadn't
spoken aloud. "You're a telepath?"
       "I told you, we learned to use our minds the way your people
learned to use tools.  You humans could do it, if you tried.  We come,
after all, from common roots.  All that we are, you could be.  Sometimes
there are children born to you who should have been born to us, and vice
versa.  We try to trade, when possible, but are not always able.  A child
of the Folk growing up among humans is very alone, and sometimes
dangerous."
       "Is that what happened to her?"
       "Her?"  he queried, puzzled.
       "Mulder's sister.  Did you take her?"
       "Show me..."  he said, leaning forward and taking her hands.
       "How?"  Dana asked, confused.
       "Just think of him, think of what you know... ah!"  His face was
eloquent with disgust.  "Liathann!  No, that was not our doing!  There
are... other beings, other influences.  We cannot talk to the Liath, they
are too... different,"  he shuddered.
       Dana tried to imagine a being that Fionn would find strange, and
shivered herself.  She was relieved that he had returned to his original
form.  It was too strange for words, knowing that the man before her had
been a woman just moments earlier.  It challenged her beliefs at a very
basic level.  She studied him, shaking her head.
       "Why do I believe you?"
       "Because you know it is the truth."
       "I have no proof."
       "Truth needs no proof."
       "Truth must have proof,"  she countered.
       "No, some truths just... are."
       "Why did you stop?"
       He looked puzzled.  She was pleased by that, it meant he had not
been reading her mind.  The thought that he was always in there had
bothered her.
       "What?"
       "In Ennis, when you came to me... why did you stop?"
       His eyes darkened and he looked away.  "I was... ashamed."
       She looked at him and smiled.  "You've tasted the apple."
       He got the reference instantly, and laughed.  "So I have, and
wholly fallen from innocence."
       She looked away, suddenly shy.  "I was afraid... I thought
maybe..."
       He caught her hands in his, drew them to his lips.  "No, never
that.  I wanted you more than I've wanted anyone in longer that I can
remember.  But I knew if I took you, you would never forgive me, and that
I could not bear."
       Her heartbeat skyrocketed as his lips moved against her fingers,
then he turned her hands in his and his tongue tasted the pulse in her
wrist, then in the softness inside her elbow.  She shivered as he lifted
his head, his eyes alight with desire.
       "But now you're here, and whole, and knowing, and so am I.  And I
would love you as a man, if you will have me."
       "As a man?"  she asked, not understanding his implication.
       "As a man, without resorting to a glamour, or dreamweaving, or any
of the other tricks of my kind.  Just... as a man."
       She realized he was shaking, she could feel his hands trembling.
He was afraid.  Afraid of just being who he was, afraid she would say no,
afraid she would say yes.  She was afraid of those same things, every one
of them.
       "I... would like that,"  she heard herself say, and felt a flash of
fear.  What on earth was she doing?  What was the matter with her?  Was he
using a... glamour on her?  No... as soon as she thought it, she knew he
wasn't.  He wouldn't, not now.  She felt the attraction shimmering between
them.  She wanted him, and had since the first time she'd seen him.  It
was impulsive, and crazy, and very un-Scully.  But she didn't *want* to be
Scully for awhile, she was tired of it.  She wanted to be Dana, just Dana,
just a woman.  She was tired of being controlled, and cool, and
professional and walled-off.  She wanted to be someone else for awhile.
Someone impulsive, and open, and free.
       "Fionn,"  she whispered.  "I want you, but I'm afraid."
       He shook his head.  "Don't be, I'd never harm you, never"
       "It's not you I fear."  she said, reaching for his hand.
       Understanding lit his face, and he let her take his hand and guide
it to her lips.
       "Don't fear yourself either, Dana."
       Easier said than done, she thought, then looked down at his hand,
clasped in hers.  "You have beautiful hands, you know..."  she whispered,
running her tongue along the grooves of his knuckles.  She turned his hand
palm up and pressed a kiss into the center.  He shivered, but stayed
still, letting her take the initiative.
       "Dana...?"  he whispered, making her name a question.
       She knew what he was asking, and nodded, slowly.  He put his free
hand behind her head, working out the pins that held her hair in a French
knot.  Once they were out he pushed his fingers through it, loosening it,
until it fell free, brushing her shoulders.  He slid his hand behind her
neck and cupped the back of her head, tilting her face up as he leaned
down and brushed her lips with his.  She shuddered, breathing fast and
shallow.  She leaned toward him, her hand against his cheek as she sought
a deeper kiss.
       He opened to her, giving her complete control.  Dana took it, and
her tongue found his, dueling hotly, as the kiss rapidly escalated.  Her
arms went around him, her hands fanning out against the broad, hard planes
of his back, urging him closer until they were pressed together from the
knees up.  She could feel the hard length of his erection against her
belly, even through her jeans, shirt, and jacket.  She pulled away,
suddenly anxious to be rid of those restrictions, and fumbled with the
zipper on her jacket.  Her fingers were shaking so badly she couldn't open
it.  He put his hand over hers, and she looked up at him, blushing both
with arousal and embarrassment.
       "May I?"  he asked.
       She nodded.  He eased the zipper down and slid her jacket off her
shoulders.  Next he opened the buttons on her shirt, slowly, with infinite
patience.  As each button came undone she seemed to feel a surge of
desire, and when he finally got the last one undone and spread her shirt
open, her nipples were diamond-hard beneath the t-shirt she wore instead
of a bra.  He paused for a moment, until she arched back a little, lifting
her breasts, then his fingers stroked over her, his touch simultaneously
soothing and inflaming.  She gasped, her hands coming up to cover his,
holding them in place against her as she lifted her mouth to his again,
licking and sucking at his lips and tongue, almost feral in her
excitement.
       Fionn returned her wildness for wildness, his hands slipping from
beneath hers to yank her t-shirt up so he could touch her bared breasts.
A moment later he slid one hand down over the soft curve of her belly and
into the gap at the waist of her slightly too-large jeans, then on down to
cup her buttocks through the soft, thin cotton of her briefs.  She curved
into his hand as he massaged her, his long fingers drifting low to where
the moisture of her arousal dampened the fabric; her mouth still sealed to
his as they drank each other in.  She let her hands drift down his back,
to his hips, then to his thighs, until she felt the satin of his skin
beneath her fingers rather than coarse linen of his tunic.  Then she moved
them behind, and back up again, to cup the hard, muscular curves of his
buttocks.  As she'd expected, he was bare beneath the tunic, and he felt
vibrantly warm and alive under her touch.
       Dana caressed him for a moment, pulling his hips tight against her
stomach, rubbing her body against his, then she let him go and wrenched
open her jeans, shoving them and her briefs down around her knees as she
shifted, spreading her thighs wider.  He needed no urging.  Without any
barriers between them, he cuppped his hand over her mons and touched her
gently, his fingers parting the moist curls, the soft flesh, caressing.
She moaned, shaking, and her hands returned to his shoulders, clutching at
him as she pulled her mouth from his with a gasp, and leaned against him
for support.  He dropped his hand from her breast and cupped her behind,
lifting her, tilting her pelvis forward so he could push two fingers deep
into the core of her.  She pressed her lips against his neck to still the
sounds she wanted to make as he gently stretched and stroked her.  She
could barely keep herself on her knees, she was shaking so badly.  All she
could think of was how he would feel inside her.  It had been so long...
so long...
       Suddenly agressive, she shifted, getting her feet under her, and
pushed him over backward with a little growl.  He laughed as he went over,
and lay there, sprawled loosely, looking up at her with hot green eyes and
a wicked smile.  She dragged her t-shirt off over her head and kicked off
her jeans, then leaned over him and unfastened his belt, tossing the heavy
length of bronze-disks-on-leather to the floor.  That done, she discovered
that his tunic was just two rectangles of linen, without side seams.  They
were wrapped and held at the shoulders with pins, and at the waist with
the belt.  She turned the rings to unlock the pins and drew the sharp
metal carefully out of the fabric, then dropped them on top of his belt.
Gathering the front section of the tunic in her hand, she looked down at
him, grinning.
       "I like this,"  she said.  "Easy access."
       He laughed, nodding.  "Aye, sometimes the old ways are best."
       She eased it down to about waist-level, exposing a broad chest and
flat stomach, furred with hair so dark a red it was nearly black.  She
leaned down and kissed him again, her tongue tracing the sensual fullness
of his lips, then began to work her way south, kissing his chin, his
throat, his collarbone, his sternum, following the line of fine curls
where it arrowed beneath the fabric.  Next to the white linen, his golden
skin showed its distinct olive undertones clearly.  She eased one hand
under the bunched cloth and cupped his penis, feeling the rigid length of
him leap in her palm, feeling him tense and arch into her touch.  She
looked up at him, her eyes lit with mischief.
       "Well, you may be green, but you're sure as hell not little."
       His eyes had been closed, his lashes dark fans against his cheeks,
but at her words they flew open.  He studied her a moment, looking
puzzled, obviously not getting her joke, but he smiled tentatively.
       "If that is a problem, I can be whatever you wish me to be.  'Tis
one advantage to being what I am.  Most have wanted me to be as I am now,
but I can change that if you need... I can be smaller, larger, whatever
you like."
       Dana stared at him, her joke forgotten.  Did he mean what it
sounded like he meant?
       "You don't mean you can change the size of your..."  she suddenly
couldn't say it, it sounded too crass.  "What exactly did you mean?"
       He winked.  "Let me show you, 'tis easier than saying."
       In her palm he narrowed, lengthened, then a moment later the
proportions changed again, growing shorter, then yet again, as he
expanded, filling her hand until it was hard to close her fingers around
him.  Her eyes widened as she stared down at his groin, where her hand and
his sex were still hidden beneath the fabric of his tunic.
       "Oh my god!  How did you... never mind.  I don't want to know,"
she used her other hand to pull his tunic aside and discard it, and knelt
there for a moment, her hand caressing him, gently, watching the pulse in
his erection, lips parted with anticipation.  After a moment she dragged
her gaze away and moistened her lips, taking a deep breath.  "I... think
you were fine the way you started... this might be too much, at least at
first."
       His smile was very knowing as he let himself resume his former
dimensions.  "As you wish, but I can be however you like, whenever you
like.  Just tell me."  His voice was a silky whisper, as arousing as a
touch.
       She nodded, eyes caught by his, mesmerized by the fire in them.
The flow of her desire was back, full stream.  She moved astride him, but
didn't take him into her yet.  Instead she knelt there, holding him,
brushing the soft warmth of her labia across cock, feeling the broad,
blunt tip of him part her and nudge within, creating a growing ache inside
her.  His hands went to her hips, lightly resting there, holding but not
guiding as she moved.  He closed his eyes again, and a soft groan escaped
him.  She shivered at the sound, pleased to be the cause of it, excited by
the thought that he wanted her that much.  She sank down a little, just
barely taking him into her, before lifting again.
       His hands tightened almost painfully on her hips, then released
instantly, contrition written on his face.
       "Ah, don't tease me, Dana!  I've been celibate longer than you've
been alive."
       She stilled, looking down at him in surprise.  "You have?"
       He nodded, hips arching upward as his body sought hers.  "Aye."
       "Why?"
       "No one interested me."
       "No one?  In how long?"
       He looked a bit desperate.  "Do we have to talk about this right
now?"
       She grinned mischeviously, but her hand moved on him, stroking.
"Yes, we do."
       "'Tis hard to think with you touching... no, don't stop.  I'll
manage."
       His hand covered hers quickly when she made as if to stop,
preventing her, encouraging her.  She stroked him, feeling the silk over
steel of completely aroused male.  Her fingers explored him, and he made a
little sound of pleasure deep in his throat, bucking into her hand, his
breathing ragged.
        "The... last time I took... a lover was... was... sometime during
the war,"  he said raggedly.
       "Korea?" she inquired, curious enough to be distracted from the
burgeoning sensations inside her.  She figured he didn't mean Vietnam,
though he didn't look old enough to have been celibate since before
either.  She stilled her hand, allowing him to relax a little, and he
looked at her blankly.
       "Have they called it something different now?  I can never keep up
with you humans and your history.  I thought it was called the Great War."
       Her mouth dropped open.  "World War *One*?"
       He nodded.  She shivered, faced suddenly with his non-humanness,
even though proof of his compatibility throbbed in her hand.  His hands
caressed her hips softly, urging her on.
       "Please, Dana, please... I need you."
       "Why me?"  she breathed quietly, resuming the gentle, rythmic
caress she had stopped.
       He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, struggling for control.
       "Because... you're a complex, fascinating woman... I've never met
anyone like you before."
       She laughed, delighted.  "For that, you get a reward, whether or
not you really meant it."
       She shifted over him, her hand moving down to guide him, and then
she was easing down, taking him inside her.  She closed her eyes,
concentrating on the feel of him, the way her body opened to accomodate
him.  Despite the fact that he'd resumed more average proportions at her
request, he was still very large, but she couldn't remember ever having
anyone feel this right inside her before.  He was perfect, utterly
perfect.  She rocked above him, circling her hips, using him as her center
of gravity.
       "Dana..."  his voice was dark and throaty.
       She opened her eyes to find him gazing up at her with an expression
that took her breath away.
       "Wha...what?"
       "I meant it.  Every word."
       Unless he was a damned good liar, he was telling her the truth.  He
chose that moment to run his hands up her sides then back down, stroking
her, his hips lifting beneath hers, following her movements.  She forgot
all about how old he was.  It didn't matter... all that mattered was how
he felt inside her.  She leaned over, bracing her hands against his
shoulders, and began to move in earnest, loving the slide and thrust of
his heavy maleness inside her.  He lifted his head and scattered kisses
over her throat, his hands coming up to caress her breasts, his fingers
tugging at her nipples.  She whimpered, bucking on him.
       His hands left her breasts to cup her buttocks and pull her down
onto him, urging her into a looping glide.  She could feel her release
building, her muscles tensing in preparation and moved faster, working for
it.  Suddenly he caught her hips in his hands and stopped her in mid-
motion, holding her still.  She tried to move, and he wouldn't let her.
She struggled a little, frustrated.
       "Wait, wait... let me...."  his voice trailed off as he managed to
sit up, taking her weight on his hands and groin as he shifted position.
A moment later she was sitting on his lap with her legs around his waist,
his cock still buried in her aching softness.
       "How'd you do that?"  she gasped, not quite sure how he'd managed
to accomplish the change of position without ever withdrawing from her.
She liked it though, it still gave her control, but felt somehow more
equal, more intimate.
       "Magic,"  he whispered, threading his fingers into her hair to draw
her toward him, taking her mouth with his in soft, open drugging kisses.
She squirmed, her breasts brushing his chest, her vagina clenching around
him, as she moved.  Oh, god, he felt good!  She arched, sliding on and
around him, discovering that the position brought her clitoris into almost
continuous contact with his cock.  He reached down and gripped her thighs
in his hands, opening her wider, pulling her closer.  Ecstasy blasted
through her, her nails digging into his back as the full pleasure of her
orgasm hit, slumping forward with her head against his shoulder.  He held
her, stroking her back, his body still hard and unreleased within her.
       When she could think again she realized he he hadn't finished, and
Dana leaned back so she could look at his face.  His eyes were closed, his
breathing shallow, but steady and even, he almost looked like he was in
some kind of trance.  She frowned, puzzled.
       "Fionn?"
       "Aye?"  he whispered, radiating tension.
       "What's wrong?"
       "Nothing's wrong."
       "Why are you..."
       "I want to pleasure you."
       "You have."
       "More.
       "You will."
       "Aye..." he sucked in a deep breath, "but I can't hold... you're
too sweet, and it's been too long..."
       She took his face in her hands, stroking her fingers over his
cheekbones, down his nose, soothing.  "You've already pleasured me, what
more do you want?"
       He shuddered, trembling with the effort of control.  "It's hard..."
       She grinned.  "I noticed."
       He laughed, eyes opening.  There was something akin to pain in
their verdant depths, despite his smile.  She leaned forward and kissed
him.
       "It's okay,"  she whispered against his mouth.  "I promise, I want
this."
       "No..."  his voice was desolate.  "I can't..."
       "Why?"
       "I'm afraid."
       "Of what?"
       "Losing control."
       "It doesn't matter... I want you wild."
       Her voice was dark and husky as she urged him on.  He felt the
strength of her hands, her thighs, the muscle underlying her seal-soft
body.  She was small, but she wasn't fragile.  He smelled the hot scent of
her arousal and heard the passion in her voice.  What he really wanted was
to Mate with her, but knew he would have to be content with less.
       She ran a finger over his lips, her celadon eyes gone distant and
hazy with pleasure, then she moved on him, her body like a wet velvet
glove, very snug around him.  Her movement broke his paralysis.  He
gripped her tight against him and rolled with her, taking her beneath him.
She shifted a little, adjusting to his weight, tightening her thighs
around his hips.  Slowly he pushed his upper body away from her, bracing
himself on his arms, his cock still held within her.  She ran her hands up
his forearms, over the taut muscles of his shoulders, then around behind
him to rest against his lower back.
       "You feel so good, you're so beautiful..."  she whispered.
       He shook his head, amazed.  "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"
       She smiled, wriggling her hips, making him crazy.  "If you like,
but you are, and changing the subject won't change that."
       Women certainly had changed since he last had a human lover...
changed a lot.  He lowered his mouth to hers, taking her soft, lush mouth
as if he could devour her.  His hips curled forward instinctively, his
body pushing deep into hers.  She moaned and he froze, burying his face in
the curve of her shoulder so he couldn't see her face, gasping.
       "I'm sorry..."
       "What for?"
       "Hurting you,"  he whispered, ashamed, not meeting her eyes.  He'd
been afraid he would do that if he lost control, and now he had.  It was
so much easier to be sophisticated when all you were doing was talking, so
much easier to bring a woman to pleasure in a dream rather than in
reality.
       She took his face in her hands, turning him toward her, forcing him
to look at her.  There was no pain on her face.
       "Fionn, you're not hurting me, I don't think you could!  I love the
way you feel inside me!"
       Her words sent an arc of fierce desire through him and he moved,
surging heavily into her.  Her eyes closed and she curved upward, biting
her lip.  He wanted to do the same.  He leaned down and claimed her lips
again, urging her mouth open so his tongue could play with hers.  Hers
played back.  He laughed into their kiss, joyfully, it was so wonderful
having her awake and involved.  He wasn't afraid any more.
       Shifting his weight forward, Fionn drove into her, watching her
face, seeing her pleasure written on her face.  He could feel it as if it
were his own.  He kissed her eyelids, her nose, her cheekbone, her jaw,
arched his back so he could lean lower and suckle at her breasts.  She met
and returned his kisses, her arms circling him, her hands splayed across
his back.  He shifted back onto his knees and slid his hands beneath the
lovely, rounded curves of her buttocks to lift her into his thrusts.  She
felt incredible, so hot, so slick, so tight.  Her thighs tightened around
his hips and she went still with a soft cry, he could feel the explosion
of contractions around him as she came.  With a shudder he lost himself in
her, letting the pleasure break inside him, almost painfully intense.
When he could think again he gathered her tight against him as the
pleasure slowly ebbed.
       After a moment he felt her pushing against him lightly and lifted
to look down at her.  She drew in a deep breath with a contented sigh.
       "Better, couldn't breathe."
       "Sorry," he said apologetically.
       She shook her head.  "Not necessary... taking a woman's breath away
is a talent to be proud of."  She grinned. "You're not bad for a man your
age."
       He laughed.  "Thank you... I think."
       She smiled, but absently.  He could almost sense the shift in her
focus as she began to think about something other than satisfied desire.
       "Fionn, how old *are* you?"
       "I can't tell you."
       She looked put out, her lower lip pushing out in a pout that made
him want to take her mouth with his.  "You mean you won't."  she amended,
irritably.
       He kissed her, parting her lips with his, slicking his tongue into
her mouth intimately, echoing what they had just done.  His body
responded, hardening, even though he'd just come.  He was surprised by
that, and he curled his hips, rocking into the cradle of her thighs.  She
tore her mouth from his with a gasp, her hands clutching at his hips.
This time he didn't mistake her response for pain.  He knew better.  He
rocked again, gently, establishing a slow, steady rhythm.
       "No,"  he whispered.  "I can't tell you, because I don't know.  We
don't pay attention to the years, they seem so short.  I know it was in
the fall, but no more."
       "No year?"  she queried, staying with her curiousity, though her
hands began to roam his flanks, and her hips lifted with each undulation
of his body in hers.
       "No year."
        "What's the first event you recall... human history."
       He stilled, remembering, wishing he didn't. "The destruction of
Mona.  I had a brother there... it was the first time I knew death."
       His mouth closed over hers, preventing her from speaking again, and
for a moment his control slipped, his movements growing harder, harsher,
his mind filled with centuries-old anger at that needless waste. To his
amazement she responded to his fierceness, her knees coming up to open
herself more, to give her leverage as she pushed herself onto him.  He
remembered her plea for wildness, and knew this time he had enough
self-control to give it to her.  His anger had vanished back into the past
where it belonged, and his roughness held an edge of deliberation.
       "Fionn?"
       He lifted his head to find her gazing at him, her lips parted in
invitation.  He shuddered at the look in her eyes... pale green fire, like
burning jade.  The heat scorched him, drew him...
       "Dana?" he answered softly.
       "More..."  she breathed, her voice a raw whisper.
       He smiled knowingly.  "As you ask... so be it."  He closed his eyes
and reached out with other senses, feeling her need, sliding into her
thoughts to see what she really wanted.  He felt no guilt at that, there
was nothing wrong with using his inborn talents to satisfy her.  He shaped
himself to her desire, a little surprised at the depth of wildness in her.
He had not guessed her to be so untamed in her inner core.
       He slid from her, leaving her gasping and arching, and rolled her
roughly onto her belly.  She moaned and spread her thighs, inviting him.
He closed his hands over her buttocks, slid his fingers down low and
opened her, then mounted her.  She yielded softly to his thrust, easily
taking him deep, sighing with pleasure.  Moments later she tossed her
head, then pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.  He shifted
position with her, and held her hips as he drove hard into her.  With his
thumbs against her back his fingers nearly met across her belly; reminding
him forefully that she was such a little thing, but at the same time every
movement, and every word she spoke made him aware of the strength of
her... both in her body and her mind.  He ached again to meld her
uniqueness with his own; what a child they could create together!  But he
knew he couldn't ask her that, he didn't think she could knowingly give
him that much of herself, and he was no longer a being who could just
steal a life from her without her knowledge.
       "More!"  she hissed again, and he abandoned thought and self
control, pulling her back hard into each thrust, as if trying to gauge the
depths of her.  She pushed back, willingly abetting his plunges, her hands
savaging the soft furs that covered the bed, arching and purring like a
cat.  Taking his cue from that image, he nipped at her shoulders and the
back of her neck hard enough that she could feel his teeth, but not so
hard it would hurt.  She stiffened beneath him, and he felt a shudder run
through her, then she slowly relaxed down onto the bed, gasping.  He was
drawn down with her, and he gentled his movements, kissing her where he'd
nipped before.  She sighed, shifting beneath him to give him easier
access.
       "My god, Fionn,"  she said huskily. "You're something else..."
       "I've had a lot of practice,"  he said, grinning.
       "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not nice to brag?"
       "I wasn't bragging, I was explaining."
       "Oh, is that what it was?"
       "Aye,"  he turned onto his side, taking her with him, and slipped
an arm beneath her uppermost thigh so she was open to his fingers.  She
gasped and whimpered, hips bucking against his hand as he began to stroke
her.
       "Do you want me to stop?"  he asked, just to be sure.
       "No!"  she managed.
       He grinned and closed his mouth over the sensitive spot where neck
and shoulder meet, sucking gently.  He felt her response deep inside,
where she held his body in hers.  He did it again, and again she
tightened, her reaction immediate and unmistakable.  He kissed her jaw,
and curled around her, working to pleasure her with lips, fingers, cock.
It took only a moment or two before he triggered her release again, and
the feel of her pleasure provoked his own.  He let the pleasure roll over
him in pulsing waves with a moan.  After a while she sagged, bonelessly,
and he eased her back down onto her belly as he withdrew.  He felt utterly
relaxed himself, and he put an arm around her as he stretched out next to
her, half asleep already.
 
 

                                   ###

       Dana yawned sleepily and burrowed into the covers, eyes closed,
feeling as relaxed and contented as a just-fed baby.  The image made her
think of Eithne's baby, and how incredibly awed she had felt as she
delivered him.  Suddenly she sat bolt upright.
       "Shit!"
       Obviously startled, Fionn sat up too.  "What's wrong?"
       She scowled, disgusted with herself and a bit with him.  "I didn't
think... oh damn it all, I can't believe I was so stupid!"
       "What?  What did you do?"
       "It's not what I did, it's what *we* didn't do."
       He shook his head. "I don't understand... what do you mean?"
       "I'm not protected, and I didn't think to make you use any birth
control!"
       He stared at her for a moment, then began to smile.  "Is that all?
You can relax.  You can't conceive by me, not like this."
       "Don't tell me that your people and mine can't crossbreed!  You
already told me you do!"
       "You're right.  We can and must.  But it's a complicated
process..."
       "How complicated can it be?"  Dana interrupted. "All it takes is
sperm and ova!"
       "I can explain if you want..."
       "I want,"  she said flatly, trying to ignore the little knot of
fear in her stomach.  The absolute *last* thing she needed to have to deal
with right now was an unplanned pregnancy.  Fionn leaned back against the
bed, looking completely undisturbed.  That was both reassuring and
irritating.
       "For me to have a child with you I would have to... to force it.
It could not happen naturally.  I would have to use my mind to unite
the..."  he paused, as if searching for words.  "The male and female
parts... sperm and egg?"  He looked at her questioningly and she nodded,
encouraging him to go on.
 "It has to be done that way because humans can't conceive by us any
other way.  Then I would have to undergo Change, and take the... the..."
he looked frustrated.  "I'm sorry, I don't know the words.  I would have
to take what results from that union from you and take it into myself,
into my female self.  I would have to carry the child, since we learned
long ago that if a human carries a Sidhe child, it is almost always born
Human, rather than Sidhe."
       She stared at him, stunned.  "You're talking about surrogacy!"
       "What's that?"
       "Removal of an zygote from the original parent an placing it in a
host to be carried to term."
       "Zygote?"  he asked, puzzled.
       "The fertilized egg."
       "Oh, then yes, that's exactly what I meant."
       "But... how do you take the zygote?  It's obvious your medical
technology is almost non-existent!"
       "We have never needed it.  We move the... zygote,"  he looked
rather pleased with himself for remembering the word. "...the same way we
create it.  Telekinesis."
       "I would think that would destroy it."
       "No, it happens so quickly it does no damage, but it must be done
before it makes a home in the human woman's womb.  After that, it must be
left where it is or it will die."
       "So conception between a Sidhe and a human can't happen naturally?"
Dana asked, just to be sure she wasn't misunderstanding him.
       He shook his head.  "No, never."
       She relaxed, feeling reprieved.  "Well, that's a relief.  I could
just see me trying to explain a baby to Mulder."
       Fionn grinned.  "Surely he knows how they're created."
       "That's *not* what I meant and you know it!"  Dana said, trying not
to grin and spoil the effect.  She remembered something she'd meant to ask
him earlier, before she got... distracted.  A smile curved her mouth at
the memory of that distraction.  He was incredible!  She managed to drag
her attention back to the present.
       "You said the first historical event you could remember was the
destruction of Mona.  I don't remember that, what was it?"
       His expression hardened, went distant.  "The Isle of Mona.  The
historian Tacitus wrote of it in his Annals.  Julius Caesar ordered its
destruction in order to crush the spirit of the tribes of Britain.  My
brother Ciaran was there, studying... he was only a boy, just past his
first Change.  They killed him along with all the rest.  I felt his death
inside me as if it were my own.  For a long time after that, I hunted
Romans."
       Dana realized her mouth was open and she shut it with a snap that
hurt her teeth.  He couldn't possibly mean what it sounded like he meant.
He simply couldn't.  She dredged her voice out of wherever it had hidden
and spoke.
       "Fionn... Julius Caesar invaded Britain in... god, what was it?  I
learned it in Western Civ... I think it was 45 BCE!  You couldn't possibly
have been alive then!"
       He looked at her, was she imagining a trace of disdain on his face?
       "Why not?  Barring accident or murder, my kind lives forever."
       Dana shook her head, feeling as if she'd suddenly lost her balance.
"It's impossible!"
       "I can't prove it, but I lived it,"  he said softly.
       She kept shaking her head, nearly overcome by the urge to laugh.
"You're joking with me!"
       "No, I'm not."
       "Are you talking about reincarnation?"  she asked, grasping at
straws.
       He shook his head.  "No.  A single lifetime... infinitely long."
       She ran a hand through her hair.  "This sounds like an episode of
Star Trek!"
       To her surprise he grinned.  "Aye, it does.  I remember that one,
`Requiem for Methuselah', a good story."
       She inched away, feeling afraid for the first time.  "The stress
has finally gotten to me!  My god... an elf who watches Star Trek!  I
can't believe I'm making this up!  I was never any good at creative
writing!  Wait... maybe I'm dreaming..."
       He drew her toward him, his hand gentle against her hair.
       "No, Dana.  You're neither mad, or dreaming.  We are real, we are
natural, in our own way.  It's strange... you didn't balk at the idea that
we change our gender, that we are telepathic and telekinetic, that we are
living myth... but you can't accept that we are long-lived?"
       "Not that long!  Fionn, that's over two *thousand* years!  No one
could possibly live that long!"
       He rubbed his lips across her knuckles and looked at her
apologetically.  "Would it help if I looked like Mel Brooks?"  he asked.
       She stared, not understanding for a moment, then suddenly she
remembered watching a video clip of Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner doing their
classic `Two Thousand Year Old Man' routine.  Her lips twitched.  His did
too.  A moment later his smile broke free, and hers followed.  She started
to laugh.  It took her a long time to stop, but when she did she shook a
finger at him.
       "You watch too much television!"
       He looked embarrassed.  "Guilty as charged, television fascinates
me.  It is so... immediate, so malleable.  In television you can do
whatever you want, create anything.  In some ways it's like our abilities,
only it's far more influential.  A dangerous medium, if misused."
       "You've got that right," Dana said, eyeing him speculatively.  "So,
I'm not crazy and you're not either... I really am sitting here with a
two- thousand year old elf who can change gender at will and manipulate
reality with his... or her mind?"
       "You are."
       She sighed and relaxed back onto the bed, lounging on one elbow.
"Mulder will kill me when I tell him about this."
       "Why?"
       "For having all this fun without him."
       "Fun?"  Fionn smiled.  "Would you really want him to share in
our... fun?"
       Dana felt herself blush and chuffed irritably.  "Will you be
serious?  I meant that he would be fascinated by your story.  He still
will be."
       "He won't believe you."
       "Oh yes he will!  You don't know Mulder, he probably knows all
about the Sidhe.  I bet when I tell him, he'll pull out an X-File on you!"
       Fionn's eyes narrowed.  "What is... an X-File?"
       "That's what I do... we hunt down extraordinary criminals, and
we've had some pretty bizarre ones.  That's where I ran into Brother
Andrew... the one you said might be Sidhe."
       "He was a criminal?" Fionn was frowning, his expression almost
incredulous, as if he thought such a thing impossible.
       She shook her head. "Not him, but a friend of his, who was using
his pheromones to kill.  They were part of a group called The Kindred, we
thought they were an isolationist religious sect, but they turned out to
be a lot more than that."
       "There is a *group* of these people?  How many?"  Fionn demanded,
his expression intense and focused.  For some reason this was important to
him.
       "Oh, twenty or thirty I think, I don't know that I saw them all."
       He leaned forward. "Where?  Where are they?"
       "I... don't know.  They disappeared from their farm in
Massachusetts when we traced the killer's origin to them, and haven't been
seen or heard from since."
       "Damn!" Fionn closed his eyes and slammed a fist into the cushions,
startling her into backing away.  Immediately he opened his eyes and put
out his hand toward her.  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you.  I
hoped..."  He broke off for a moment, shaking his head. "I had hoped that
I could find this other group, and that they would be enough different
from us to be a partial solution to our problem.  As it is, each
successive generation becomes less Sidhe and more Human."  His voice and
expression were bleak.  Dana knew he was talking about the end of his
people, and felt tears rise.
       "Fionn..."  she began, wanting to offer comfort, but couldn't think
of a way to convey her feelings.  What did you say to a member of a
species facing extinction?  Nothing.  There was nothing to say.  Fionn
shook his head, and reached out to touch her face lightly, then his hand
dropped and he looked away.
       "I thought of asking you, you know."
       "Asking me what?"
       "To mate with me, not just be my lover.  But I thought you would
say no, so I didn't ask."
       Dana stared at him, stunned.  "Whaaat?"
       He still didn't look at her, but rather stared off into the fire.
"I knew you would feel that way.  That's why I didn't ask."
       "Wait, what are you saying?  I'm not sure I'm clear... do you mean
that you wanted to use one of *my* ova?"
       He nodded, Dana studied him, completely floored.  It was the first
time anyone had ever wanted to... procreate with her.  Not just have sex,
but actually create a child.  It was the strangest feeling!  Flattering,
frightening, and a bit exhilarating, all rolled into one.  It reminded her
just a bit of the way she'd felt just before the first time she'd ever had
sex, and her first day at Quantico... the same kind of fearful
anticipation.  She smiled finally, knowing she was blushing too.
       "I'm flattered, Fionn.  No one's ever asked me that before."
       He faced her finally, surprised.  "I find that hard to believe."
       She shrugged.  "It's true."
       "Then your men are fools,"  he said bluntly.
       She grinned.  "My `men,' as you put it, know better.  So did you,
obviously.  I must admit, your offer is more intriguing than the standard
variety would be, since you'd be the one doing all the work."
       He grinned back. "That is one advantage to our way."
       "It certainly is.  I know a lot of people who would probably love
it if it were an option for humans as well as Sidhe."
       "I would teach it if I could, but I can't."
       "Too bad,"  she sighed and watched him for a moment, suddenly
realizing that he was gazing at her warily, almost hopefully.  She didn't
want to mislead him.  "Really, I am flattered, but you were right.  I grew
up in a pretty close family, and I... can't see doing that, knowing I had
a child somewhere but not being part of its life."
       His gaze fell and his disappointment was obvious, but he nodded.
"It is your choice.  Once I might not have asked, but I'm no longer that
person.  If you ever change your mind..."
       "You'll be the first to know.  Fionn..."
       He looked up at the question in her voice.  "Yes?"
       "Thank you for trusting me to help Eithne.  It was... an incredible
experience.  For the most part my medical practice has been limited to the
dead, so to help a child be born... I can't describe the feeling.  I was
honored."
       "I know the feeling, and thank you for helping.  Without you I
might have lost both Lon-Dubh and Eithne.  It would be hard to lose my
grandchild, but harder still my daughter."
       Dana stiffened.  "Your dau... I thought she was your sister!"
       "A fiction we use among humans since to you we seem too close in
age to be parent and child, but Eithne is my youngest."
       Dana digested that, trying to reconcile her image of him with that
fact.  It was hard.  "How... how many children do you have, all told?"
       He smiled "Do you truly want to know?"
       Dana thought about his apparent lifespan, and the number of
children that could be born over that much time.  She shivered.  "Yes."
       "Eight, still with me.  Ten, if you count Madarua who died, and
Faoilean who was Taken."
       She thought of how sad it must be to lose a child and felt tears in
her eyes.  "I'm sorry."  she whispered.
       "Please, don't be.  I remember them with no sorrow now.  It has
been a long, long time, and they were gone before their Naming."
       Dana felt confused.  "I thought you called them..."
       "Those were child-names, like Lon-Dubh.  When a Sidhe child is born
we name it after an animal they resemble.  At first Change, when they
choose a principal gender, they also choose an adult name."
       "What does... Londu mean?"
       He smiled at her mispronunciation.  "Blackbird."
       She smiled.  "Appropriate."
       "Aye."
       "And the other two?"
       "Faoilean means Seagull, and Madrua is Fox."
       "Fox?  That's funny!"
       "Why?"
       "My partner's first name is Fox.  He hates it though."
       "It's an odd name for a human child.  Why was he named that?"
       She shook her head, with a wry laugh.  "God only knows... he
doesn't talk about it at all.  I tried to call him that once, I thought he
was going to crawl under the seat."
       Fionn chuckled.  "Humans don't deal well with things out of the
ordinary... most of them anyway.  Strange that you should have a friend
named the same as my child."
       "Synchronicity perhaps... stranger things have happened.  Like me,
being here with you..."  Dana leaned over and kissed him softly, taking
his face between her palms.  A moment later she was sliding her fingers
through the thick silk of his hair and licking at the sensually modeled
curve of his mouth.  He made a throaty murmur of pleasure that sent
shivers through her, and his arms encircled her.  When she finally drew
back they were both breathing hard.
       "Dana..."  Fionn said hoarsely.  "I thought you were tired."
       "So did I,"  she said, catching her lower lip in her teeth for a
second.  "I guess I was wrong.  Am I too demanding for an old man like
you?" she teased.
       "Old man?"  he roared indignantly.
       The next thing she knew she was on her back beneath him, his hips
wedged firmly between her thighs, the rigid length of him full and hard
against her waiting softness.  She arched upward, eyes closing so she
could concentrate on the way he slid and stroked where she was most
sensitive.  She let her fingers move over the firm planes of his chest, up
to his shoulders, and into his hair again.  There was something incredibly
provocative about the way it felt in her fingers.  He was a lot of firsts
for her, even had he been human.  Her first long-haired man with an
earring... she smiled to herself; he would look bad on her security
clearance.  He was also the first lover she'd ever taken so impulsively,
she wasn't given to acting impetuously.  His mouth dropped to her breast
and suckled gently, making her arch and cry out, wanting him so bad it
almost hurt.  Another first... he was the first man to pleasure her like
this, to know her almost as well as she knew herself.  Telepathy was
definitely an asset in a lover.
       She felt empty, and wanted filling.  He filled her.  A long, slow,
patient entry that gave her time to adjust, and time to want more.  She
pulled his mouth to hers and kissed him hotly, open-mouthed, sensual.
When he was finally fully inside her she thought of how he'd felt when he
was beneath her.  He smiled and shifted onto his side, then onto his back,
yielding wordlessly to her desire.  She braced her hands on his shoulders
and circled her hips, drowning in the feel of him, the scent of him, the
perfect mesh of their bodies.  With a hushed moan she felt pleasure roll
over her, softly this time, and she dissolved, sensation tumbling over and
over like grains of sand in the surf.  She sank down against him, closing
her eyes.
 
 

                            ###
 
 
 
       The rumble of her stomach wouldn't let her lie in bed any longer.
Dana rolled over and sat up, wincing a little.  She felt like she'd been
`rode hard and put away wet' as the saying went.  She smiled then,
remembering *why* she felt like that.  What a night!  She stretched
languidly and pulled on her sweats.  Maire was going to give her hell for
disappearing again.  Or maybe not... after all, she knew what was going
on.  She was the one who had told her where to find Fionn.  She smiled,
her uncharacteristically impulsive fling had definitely been worthwhile.
She hadn't felt so relaxed in months.
       She wandered into the kitchen and found it empty, the dogs nowhere
in sight.  Maire must be out walking them.  She put on the kettle to boil
and looked in the larder to see what else there might be to eat.  She was
hungry... *really* hungry, as if she hadn't eaten in days!
       She was just pulling out the leftover soda bread when the door
opened, admitting Angus and Brenna who bounded over to see what she was
doing.  Maire was a moment behind them, and she stopped, her walking stick
dropping to the floor when she saw Dana.  Her expression went from shock
to relief in a matter of seconds, and she hurried forward to wrap her arms
around her in a fierce embrace.
       "Ah child!  You scared the life out of me!  I'll not ask where
you've been, but next time you might give me some warning!"
       Dana returned the hug, then stepped back, a bit surprised.  "You
told me to go to the circle... you knew what I'd find."
       "Aye, but I didn't expect you to be gone for four days!
       "Four..."  Dana gaped for a moment, then she remembered Maire
telling her about how time flows differently in the Sidhe dimension... or
whatever it was.  She laughed, shaking her head.  "Four days?  God, no
wonder I'm starving!  The man really ought to feed a girl if he's gonna
keep her in bed for four days!"
       Maire laughed, and shook her head.  "He couldn't.  Once you taste
Faery food you're obligated to stay with them in their world."
       "I thought that was Persephone,"  Dana said, confused.
       "The stories are rather similar."
       "Well, couldn't he have just gotten take-out or something?"
       Maire opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again and grinned.
"Do I take it that you're enjoying your vacation, then?"
       "You do.  But I don't have much of it left, do I?  If I was gone
four days then I only have three left."
       Maire looked away uncomfortably.  "I'm afraid you may not even have
that,"  she picked up a piece of paper from the table and held it out.
"You got a call while you were gone... someone named McGrath.  He said he
needs you to come back."
       Dana groaned, shaking her head in dismay.  "It figures!  The
bastard can't even let me enjoy my vacation in peace!  When did he call?"
       "The day after you... left."
       "Damn!  What did you tell him?"
       Maire grinned.  "I told him you were on a walking tour and that
since I had no way to reach you, his message would have to wait until you
contacted me.  Let me tell you, he wasn't very happy."
       "I'll bet he was livid!"  Dana said, chuckling.  Well, I guess I'd
better call him.  If you send me the bill when it comes, I'll have the
office reimburse you for the trans-Atlantic call."
       Maire shook her head. "There's no need, I'm comfortable."
       "No, really, I want to do it.  Besides, it'll annoy McGrath."
       "In that case, I'll send you the bill,"  Maire said with a wicked
smile.  Dana winked as she picked up the phone and started dialing.
 
 

                                   ####
 
 

       An hour later Dana was on her back to the airport to catch the next
flight back to the States.  She was a little depressed, for several
reasons.  First by the fact that she hadn't gotten her full nine days,
second because she had barely started getting to know Maire, and third she
had been forced to leave without saying any kind of goodbye to Fionn.  Not
that it really mattered, it wasn't like they were anything more than
casual lovers, but she didn't feel right about just *leaving* without a
word.  Thinking of going home made her feel oddly nervous.  She was torn
between wanting to tell Mulder all about the odd experiences she had had,
and wishing she could forget all about them.  Her indecision was partly
due to the fact that having a romantic fling with a stranger was out of
character for her... or rather, for the character she had carefully
created over the past few years at the Bureau.  She also simply couldn't
see herself talking to Mulder about it at all, yet it was an integral part
of what happened.  The worst part was that after this... well, she simply
couldn't deny that some things were far stranger than she had thought
possible.  She had worked hard to maintain a certain detachment from their
cases, and this tried it sorely.
       It started to rain, and fog swirled across the road, causing her to
drive even more slowly than she would have to watch out for the occasional
sheep or cow.  She passed a hitchhiker, and almost stopped, but despite
her experience with Fionn, she was too aware of possible dangers to go
picking up strange men on the road no matter how wet and miserable they
might be.  Oddly, a few miles further on she passed the same hitchhiker,
or at least one dressed the same.  No one had passed her on the road, so
how had he gotten ahead of her?  It was strange, but maybe there was a
road that paralleled the main one, and he had gotten a ride there.  When
she spotted a third hitchhiker she suddenly started to smile.  Even half a
mile away there was no mistaking that outfit; an indecently short linen
tunic and checkered cloak. In the daylight she could tell it was a purple,
blue and saffron plaid.  Revolting, really.  He had great taste in Human
fashions but....  She slowed to a stop next to him and rolled down the
window.
       "Need a lift?" she asked, grining.
       He shook his head, leaning down to peer inside the car, carefully
not touching it.  "Nah, just out for a walk."
       "In the pouring rain?"
       "Is it raining?"  he asked.
       She looked closer... he was bone dry, as was her windshield, and
the road ahead.  Behind her the back window and the road behind glistened
wetly in the mirror.
       "Handy talent, that."
       He nodded, grinning.  "Invaluable.  You're leaving, I didn't want
you to go without saying good bye."
       "I didn't either, but I didn't think I had a choice."
       "I made one for you.  Will you come out of there so I can touch
you?  The metal..."
       "Of course!"  She opened the door and stepped out.  Before she
could think she was in his arms, held against the hard warmth of his body.
She felt tears rise and blinked them back, feeling stupid.  It wasn't as
though they were in love...
       "Isn't it?"
       She drew back and glared at him.  "Damn it, don't you dare read my
mind!"
       "How can I help it when you're all but shouting at me?"  Fionn
demanded, seeming a little annoyed himself.
       "I was not!"
       "How do you know what you sound like to me?"
       She opened her mouth and realized she had no answer.  "I... don't.
I'm sorry."
       He nodded, slightly mollified, then took her hands in his.  "Dana,
as much as one of my kind can love, I do."
       "Oh, Fionn... don't, I can't..."
       "I know you can't, it doesn't matter.  I care about you and that is
all that matters to me.  I had Brede make this for you..."  He held out a
small object dangling from a fine gold chain.  Before she could protest he
had looped it around her neck, and it dangled between her breasts.  She
lifted it and looked at it, puzzled.  It was a small cylinder about an
inch and a half long, with a cut-out at one end and three tiny holes in
it.  Despite being hollow, it was heavy, she guessed it was gold, like the
chain and his hair-clasp and the coin left by her bed.  "It looks like a
whistle..."
       He grinned.  "Good guess."
       "What's it for?"
       "To summon me."
       "Why?"
       "If you need me, for whatever reason... be it danger, or desire.  I
will come to you."
       "From half a world away?"  she asked, jokingly.
       "From a world and a half away,"  he said solemnly, his green eyes
shadowy and dark.  "However far, no matter what, I will come.  It is not a
promise I give lightly,"
       She shook her head slowly.  "No, I can see that."
       He touched the whistle with a fingertip, and smiled.  "Once it
would have been a hunting horn, but I thought perhaps you would find this
easier to explain."
       She laughed softly.  "Decidedly.  How does it work."
       He grinned.  "You just put your lips together, and blow."
       She stared at him blankly, and he shook his head and sighed.  "Ah,
before your time, I see.  I watch too much television, and you don't watch
enough.  To summon me, just blow it.  A single call will tell me you
desire me, two that you need my aid."
       "I don't see how you could possibly hear..."
       "I am bound into it.  Brede forged it with my blood.  I cannot help
but hear it, no matter where I am."
       Dana looked at it and shuddered.  "In your blood?"
       He nodded and held out his arm.  A fading scar ran down the inside
of his forearm, it looked weeks old.  "We heal quickly."  he said at her
questioning look.  She had no reason to doubt him, the scar hadn't been
there the last time she'd seen him.
       She touched the scar lightly, then leaned down to press her lips
against it.  "I don't take your gift lightly, Fionn, Thank you."
       "You're welcome.  Now I have another gift... one you may not like
as well..."
       "What?"  Almost before the word was out of her mouth he reached out
and touched her on the forehead.  Her eyes fluttered closed and she
sagged, he caught her and eased her slowly to the ground, which was no
longer a road, but a meadow.  There was no trace of her car.  He looked
down at her, his mouth drawn down in quiet unhappiness.
       "I'm sorry,"  he said aloud, as if she could hear him, needing to
explain somehow.  "I know you wouldn't want me to do this, but Taliesin
tells me you should not tell your friend of us, and he's been right too
many times for me to take the chance.  He thought I should erase your
memory altogether, but I don't want you to forget me, so I will only
change it a little, make it more... ordinary,"  he smiled, and shook his
head.  "I wish the same could be done for me."
       He stopped talking and slipped into her dreaming mind, changing a
memory here and there, weaving the whole into a slightly different
reality.  Finally satisfied he sighed and sat back.  Looking at the
whistle he smiled, and made one last adjustment, then the landscape
altered and they were back on the road behind her car.  Using his cloak to
shield his hands he replaced her in the vehicle, closed the door, and
stepped away, fading from sight.
       Behind the wheel Dana awoke with a start, looking around with a
puzzled frown.  She remembered getting fogged in, and pulling to the side
of the road.  Now it was sunny... she must have fallen asleep waiting for
the fog to lift.  Not surprising, considering how late she had stayed at
Fionn's house last night.  A secretive little smile curved her mouth as
she thought of him.  He was a bit eccentric, but who cared?  He'd been
exactly what she needed.  She started the car and as she reached for the
gear-shift a movement against her breast caught her attention.  She looked
down at the antique whistle he'd given her, remembering the legend he'd
told her about it... how blowing it once would bring a long-lost love to
her, and twice would bring help in a time of need.  It was a lovely story.
A fairy tale.  Ireland was full of that sort of thing.
       She sighed.  What a week!  Between meeting Maire, an emergency
stint as an obstetrician, and having an all-too-brief affair with Fionn,
she couldn't say she'd had the restful time she had expected.  But it had
left her feeling relaxed and slightly exhilarated.  It was a nice feeling.
Too bad McGrath had had to go and ruin things just as they were getting
good!  She automatically looked in the rear-view mirror to check for
traffic and froze with a gasp... what the... she turned quickly but there
was no one there.  She shook her head, that had been odd... for a moment
she thought she had seen Fionn in the mirror, but that had just been
wishful thinking.  She looked one last time and pulled onto the road,
speeding just a bit to make up for having lost nearly an hour to a nap.
 
 

                            ###
 
 

       Dana met Mulder at the airport barely six hours after arriving back
from Ireland.  They had to make a quick stop at the Bureau for a briefing,
then be off to New York where a case had taken a turn for the weird and
McGrath, to his extreme annoyance, had ended up sending for them as the
agents best qualified to handle it.  She watched him walk off the plane
and wondered at how relaxed he looked.  Apparently haring off to Colorado
had been good for him.  Maybe he'd gotten in some recreation time up in
the Rockies.  Whatever it was, he looked better than he had in weeks, the
lines of tension less deeply engraved, and to her surprise he grinned when
he saw her.
       "Hey, Scully!  Long time no see!"
       She grinned back, unable to resist the infectiousness of his smile.
As he drew even with her she fell into step beside him, taking two paces
to one of his.  Damn all long-legged men anyway... except one.
       "So, how was your trip to Colorado?"
       Mulder's gaze slid away from hers as he replied nonchalantly.
"Fine. I learned some interesting things, but nothing really helpful."
       Scully wondered at his uncomfortable manner, and at the slight
flush across his nose and cheekbones.  He'd probably gotten in some sort
of scrape he didn't want to talk about.  She was about to prod him for
more information when he pre-empted her.
       "How was Ireland?  Did you have a good time"
       She felt a blush crawl its way up her throat and into her face, and
cursed her fair skin, not for the first time.  "Fine,"  she managed
shakily, "...it was... fine, thanks."
       He eyed her as if he didn't quite believe her, but he didn't say
anything.  She decided discretion was the better part of valor and didn't
ask him any more about Colorado.
 
 

                                   The End