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Ancient Dreams an X- FIles eroticon 3/5
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated!
WARNING! THIS STORY IS NC-17 Rated!
The story you are about to read contains SEX, written in loving detail.
If that bothers you, either do NOT read this story, or get someone who
doesn't mind erotica to black out all the juicy parts for you before you
read it. If you're underage, get your parent's permission to read it.
Don't flame me if you're silly enough to go ahead and read it after I
warned you, and then get offended by it. --kms
This story copyright 1994 by the author. Permission to distribute freely
is given, provided you do not attempt to sell it. The X-Files is a
trademark of Fox Television, characters not used by permission.
Kellie Matthews-Simmons//[email protected]
Member: SFLA&EBS, PSEB, DDEB, X-phile "Ego veno eos in vulcos minos."
"Sometimes the need to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of
humiliation." --Fox Mulder, X-Files "Squeeze"
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Ancient Dreams, pt. 3
Kellie Matthews-Simmons
Dana remembered those words when she woke the next morning and
looked out at the misty landscape. The humidity had created ground-fog,
and it swirled eerily around the cottage, making it look as if it were
decorated for a Halloween party, though it was nearly midsummer. It did
look like another world. She shivered, though it wasn't cold. There was
something strange about Ireland. Since before she'd arrived she'd been
plagued by as many odd goings-on as she would have had she been back at
work tracking psychic serial killers and the like. She'd hoped to get
away from such things, not run headlong into them. Thankfully, though,
her dreams had been ordinary, mundane dreams, with no seductive Elves...
or partners for that matter. She told herself that was a relief, that she
didn't particularly want to dream of either. Her self-assurances rang a
little hollow, though.
She heard noises from the kitchen, and smelled something incredibly
appetizing. Fresh bread? She dressed quickly, hoping to help with
whatever needed doing. Though Maire was amazingly young for her age, she
*was* in her eighties and Dana felt gulty letting her do all the work. As
she left her room, Maire looked up from the stove where she was stirring
something in a pot, and smiled.
"You look rested."
"I am, I slept well, very well, in fact."
"I thought you would. I put up a charm for you."
"A charm?" Dana was taken aback by that.
Maire smiled. "I've shocked you now. Yes, a charm. I placed two
iron nails across your windowsill to keep the Folk away from you. You
needed a good night's rest."
"I hardly think a couple of nails would keep anyone away if they
were determined to enter, Maire."
"No, it wouldn't, but they respect the old customs."
"I see," Dana hid her smile, "Thank you, then."
"You're welcome. I thought I'd give you a traditional breakfast
today, I hope you like oatmeal."
"I... it's... alright," Dana said, trying to summon up some
enthusiasm. Oatmeal had never been her favorite dish.
Maire laughed. "I can see you've only had that pasty stuff they
call oatmeal in America, haven't you? You'll like this better. It's as
different as night and day."
"That sounds promising."
"It is, and I made soda bread fresh, too. Cut yourself a slice,
it's there on the table."
Dana cut a large hunk off the round loaf, taking the heel that was
her favorite part, and buttered it thickly, feeling decadent. At home she
rarely ate butter... too much fat and calories. Irish butter was pale and
unsalted, and melted on the hot bread in creamy runnels. She took a bite
and sighed in pleasure as the taste of wheat and raisins and caraway
filled her mouth.
"This is wonderful!" she said, around a second bite. Maire
grinned.
"Glad you like it. The kettle's hot now, why don't you make tea?
Tea things are in the cupboard there."
Dana nodded and got out the teapot, measured dark, smoky-smelling
tea-leaves into it, then filled it with hot water to steep. Something
about making tea was relaxing, possibly that it was a sort of ritual. Not
quite as ceremonial as a Japanese tea ceremony, but still recognizably
ritual. A few moments later she poured the tea into two mugs across a
pierced silver spoon that Maire handed to her. As Dana emptied soggy
tea-leaves from it and rinsed it out, she stroked the deeply modeled
pattern on the handle of the spoon, tracing the interlaced lines.
"This is beautiful," she said softly.
"Aye, it was a gift."
Something about Maire's faraway smile made Dana curious.
"From a suitor?"
Maire looked at her oddly, and shook her head. "No, I'd not call
him that."
Dana almost dropped it. "This was from him?"
"Aye. They always leave a gift, the last time."
Dana scowled. "That sounds awfully close to payment."
Maire sighed, shaking her head. "Nay, lass. 'Tis not that at all.
You must stop judging them by human standards."
"I can't help it, they're the only standards I have."
"Then perhaps you need to be more open minded," Maire stated
flatly.
Anger washed through her and she almost snapped at Maire, then she
let it go. There was no point in being angry with her. "Mulder's always
telling me that, too."
"Who's Mulder?"
"My partner."
"He sounds like he's got a good head on his shoulders."
Dana laughed. "I wouldn't go that far."
"Tell me about him."
Dana sighed. "He's a bit *too* open minded, actually. I might
even call him gullible."
"Why is that?"
"Because he... believes. In *everything*. Aliens, werewolves,
mutants; you name it. He believes in it all."
Maire looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. "Ah, child.
You've lost your sense of wonder, haven't you? And he still has his, and
it hurts."
Dana opened her mouth to rebut her, and stopped suddenly. She
couldn't. It was true. Feeling unaccountably sad, she sipped her tea in
silence for a moment, then looked up.
"So, where should I go today to see something historical?"
"Go to Sligo, to Queen Medbh's tomb. You'll like that."
"Sounds perfect, would you like to come?"
"Na, I've things to do here, you go on. I'll have a cold supper
for you when you get back."
"You don't have to do that!"
"I know, that's what makes it fun." Maire smiled. "Get bowls,
would you? The oatmeal's ready."
###
Even though she'd spent the day hiking around neolithic barrows and
fields of dolmens all day, by bed-time Dana was still wide awake. Maire
was dozing by the fireplace with a book held loosely in her fingers, the
dogs at her feet. Dana made herself a sandwich from leftover ham, cheese
and bread, and sat at the table, eating and wondering what she could do to
make herself sleepy. She cleaned up the dishes and was trying to decide
if she should wake up Maire just to have her go to bed when suddenly the
dogs got to their feet and began to whine, staring at the door. She
looked at them, a little uneasy. Did they need to go out? Probably. She
got up and went to the door, reaching for the doorknob just as a knock
sounded.
She jumped about a foot, startled. She hadn't expected anyone to
be out after dark out in the boondocks. That must be what the dogs were
whining about; they had sensed the visitor. They didn't seem afraid or
alarmed, so they probably knew whoever it was. She looked at Maire
sleeping by the fire, and decided not to wake her; instead going to the
door and opening it herself. The light fell on the caller's face and she
gasped.
"You!"
Fionn had the good grace to look faintly embarrassed as he nodded.
"Hello Dana."
"What are you doing here?" Dana snapped curtly, resisting the
urge to slam the door in his face.
"I... we need your help."
That surprised her. "What do you mean?"
"You're a doctor, we need one."
"Why? Is someone injured?"
"Eithne's child, something's wrong, its coming early and the birth
isn't going as it should, but our own midwife is in the Earth now, and
none of us are trained to help."
"I'm not an obstetrician, why don't you take her to the nearest
hospital?"
Fionn looked at her a bit disdainfully. "You know the answer to
that, I know your aunt told you about us. We can't risk a hospital! The
others would not even risk you, but I have some foolish notion that you
can be trusted."
Dana found herself gaping. Fionvarra trusted her? To deliver a
non-human child? Why? She shook her head.
"I don't think I can help you..."
Anguish lit his face as she reached out and caught Dana's hands in
hers. "Please, Dana, you must... there's no one else! Without someone's
help, they both will die! We're not that different from you, not in this.
I swear it!"
Scully hesitated, feeling torn. She wasn't prepared and she knew
it. Not only was childbirth something she knew only academically, but
these people might not even be *human*! On the other hand, if someone was
really in trouble, and had no one else... how could she refuse to help?
It went against everything she believed in. Finally she nodded.
"If I can help, I will, but I'm afraid I've assisted in delivering
exactly one baby in my career, and that was in a hospital setting with
help from specialists."
The expression of relief that flooded Fionn's face told Dana she
was doing the right thing. "Whatever you know will be more than we do,
and I thank you now for making the attempt, whatever the outcome. We must
hurry now, come!"
"I have to get my stuff..."
He nodded and waited outside while Dana dashed for her suitcase.
She had a small kit she carried for emergencies, it would have to do. As
she came out, she stopped to waken Maire to let her know what she was
doing, but found her already awake, and watching Fionn with interest. At
Dana's touch on her shoulder, she looked up and smiled.
"Is that him?"
Dana nodded, and Maire grinned. "He's lovely. And for what it's
wirth, I think you're doing the right thing. Earn their thanks and you'll
not regret it."
"But Maire... what if I can't help?"
"Then you can't, but at least you'll have tried. I have a good
feeling about it, though."
"I hope you're right," Dana said under her breath as she hurried
out the door, and stopped dead in her tracks, staring at the huge black
creature that waited outside the door.
"That's a *horse*!"
"Aye," Fionn said, sounding amused.
"You can't expect me to..." Dana's voice trailed off. She was
afraid of horses. She had been ever since she'd been on a vacation trail-
ride when she was nine, and the horse they'd given her had dumped her into
a creek.
"I'll not let you be harmed. I'll be with you."
"I..." she clenched her teeth. "Can't I drive us?"
"It's not a place you can reach in a machine. Let me help you up."
Dana belatedly noticed there was no saddle, and no bridle... how
the hell did he expect to control the animal? He moved behind her and his
hands closed on her waist, then he was lifting her up, and she awkwardly
swung a leg across the horse, straddling it. The horse was damn big, and
she felt a little dizzy looking down. A moment later Fionn mounted behind
her, one of his arms going around her waist to draw her firmly back
against him. She tried to pretend she didn't notice the hard breadth of
his chest against his back, the way his thighs lay alongside hers, the
consciousness of the way her buttocks pressed intimately into his groin...
a wash of heat went through her.
"Ready?" he said softly in her ear. She nodded, and he tightened
his arm around her in a kind of hug.
"You're a brave woman."
"When I have to be," Dana acknowledged with a wry grimace. "I
guess I'm ready."
"Then we go," he spoke softly to the animal, and made a tchking
sound. Dana closed her eyes as the horse began to move, a walk at first,
then a teeth-jarring trot, then finally a smooth canter. She kept her
eyes closed, not wanting to have to look down. It was too scary. Fionn
laughed, and began to sing in some strange language Dana at first assumed
was Gaelic, but after a while she decided it wasn't. She'd heard a lot of
Gaelic spoken in the past few days, and this just didn't sound the same.
It was in a minor key, and its complex melody was almost eerie.
With her eyes closed Dana didn't feel the fear she'd expected.
Instead she seemed unable to think of anything but his body against hers.
She was aware of him with every nerve ending, the movement of the horse
making him shift rythmically against her in a cadence all too reminiscent
of sex. She understood for the first time the erotic appeal of riding
bareback... even through the sturdy canvas of her jeans she could feel the
warmth and power of the animal between her thighs. Adding to the sexual
miasma forming inside her was the realization that where she fit closely
against his crotch there was a hard, heated length that hadn't been there
when he first settled behind her. He was aroused too, and there was no
disguising it.
He stopped singing, and his other arm slid around her, above the
first, his hand resting partly against the side of her breast, partly
beneath her arm. His thumb began to glide gently over the upper curve of
her breast. Her breath caught in her throat but she didn't object, and a
moment later his fingers tightened a little, cupping her breast fully in
his palm. Warmth flared inward from her furled nipple and then was echoed
a moment later as his lips grazed her neck, just below her ear. It was
all she could do not to moan. God, this was crazy! Why was she letting
him do this? Especially after he'd... or had he? She still wasn't sure
if that had been dream or reality two nights earlier. She sat forward,
breaking her contact with him and his hand dropped away instantly. He
took hints well. It seemed like only moments later that the horse slowed,
then stopped. Dana heard voices, women's voices, and a single voice over
the others, moaning in pain.
"We've arrived, you can look now," Fionn's voice was carefully
neutral as he loosened his other arm from around Dana's waist. "I must
let you down here, they won't let me come closer."
Dana opened her eyes, and almost wished she hadn't. What were they
doing in a cave, for heaven's sake? It looked as if she'd stepped into a
museum diorama featuring `The Ancient Celts'. There were a dozen women
present, all wearing what looked like costumes, save Eithne who knelt
naked, supported by a woman on either side. Her body was round and hard
with pregnancy, her face anguished. All other considerations fled in the
face of that. Dana slid off the horse and ran, pushing aside the women in
her way.
"Let her lie down, I need to see what's going on."
Nodding, the two women helped Eithne lie back on the linen sheet
spread on the ground. Dana checked her pulse and breathing, and was
relieved to find them relatively normal. She didn't appear to have any of
the symptoms of toxemia either.
"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.
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