"I can't believe you gave her Superman."

It was about the fifteenth time Jon had heard that sentence from Richie, and each time it seemed to be filled with more awe and even more doubt. Richie had even said it during a break in Fiona's spiel about Merlin. Surely, she didn't expect them to believe that the mythical Merlin was a real person. Once that thought crossed Jon's mind he almost burst out laughing. Why couldn't Merlin be real? With everything else they'd proven to him, why couldn't that be real too?

During Fiona's long speech about Merlin, she'd carefully recited the rhyming riddle that the wizard had told her and Morganna.

"Are you sure you didn't leave out anything?" He heard himself ask that question, but couldn't believe he'd asked it again. He was getting as bad as Richie.

Fiona frowned at him. "I'm sure." How many times was she going to have to say that?

"Wait, Sister. There is a detail you've forgotten."

Fiona turned her frown on her sister. "I repeated the damn riddle word for word. Forgive me that I can't do it in Merlin's voice like you can, but I can remember what has been spoken to me."

"Fee," Morganna began, ignoring the sarcasm in her sister's tone, "remember what Merlin said about Jon?"

Quickly, Fiona began to replay the whole episode in her head.

"What DID Merlin say about Jon?" the man in question demanded.

Fiona was still trying to remember what she had obviously overlooked.

"Fiona?" Jon was getting impatient.

"To save him," Morganna prompted.

"I'll need that which only a chosen one can use," Fiona finished.

"Well, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Jon demanded.

"See, Anna, I'm not the only one that thinks Merlin is a pompous windbag that's full of shit."

Jon looked around the room, half expecting the wizard in question to appear out of nowhere. "I didn't say that," he quickly denied. "I only asked what it was supposed to mean."

"Weel, if I knew da answer ta tha' we'd be ghoulden, na wouldna we?"

"Relax, sister," Morganna said. "Your Irish has been up far too much since revealing yourself to the mortals."

Jon looked from one sister to the other. "You mean she's not always this quick to anger?"

Fiona took a deep breath, then while looking up at the ceiling, let it out on a long sigh. Morganna chose to answer Jon. "No, usually the only time she loses her temper is with Merlin."

"So, we have something in common with Merlin? Only we bring out the Irish in her?"

"Aye." Morganna shook her head. "But, you don't have to sound so proud about it. She's been having the same argument with Merlin for over a thousand years."

Jon's eyes grew wide. "A thousand..." He couldn't finish the question.

So, out of habit and shared astonishment, Richie did. "Years?"

Morganna smiled. “Yes. Actually, I think it is closer to one thousand, three hundred years – she didn’t argue with him for the first century or so.”

Fiona laughed gleefully at the gobsmacked expressions on her charges’ faces. “Anna, dear, I do believe you have rendered them speechless. Something that does not come easily, I assure you.”
Richie was just staring at Morganna. “You are more than thirteen hundred years old?”

Morganna just nodded. “Yes, child. Far more.”

Riche stood and crossed the room to Morganna. He circled her slowly, looking her up and down. Finally in front of her again, he whistled. “Damn, woman, you look good for someone who’s older than dirt.”

Morganna’s eyes went wide as Jon stood, shocked at his friend. “Bro! What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” Richie said, turning to Jon. “But this is just too damned much. LOOK at them. They don’t look a day over what, thirty? And they’re centuries old? Lots of centuries?” He shook his head. “And they’re pals with Merlin. The magician. From Arthurian legend.” He started laughing, then turned back to Morganna. “Did you live at Camelot then? Hmmm? Bang a knight or two?”

“Rich,” Jon said in a warning tone, but his friend wouldn’t be dissuaded from the tirade he was delivering.

“Watch yourself, mortal,” Morganna said, her voice getting steely.

“Or what? You gonna turn me into a toad? Wave your magic wand and give me a Bibbidi Bobbidi boo-boo?” Richie started laughing harder and couldn’t stop.

Fiona stepped forward. “You’d best stop now,” she said to Richie. “You do not want to make a sorceress angry at you.”

“Fairy sorceress,” Richie corrected, still laughing. “APPRENTICE fairy sorceress.” He snickered. “What does that even fucking mean?”

“It means,” Morganna said, “that you’d best stop right now, human. My patience only stretches so thin before it wears through.”

Richie flapped a hand at her. “Oh please. I can’t be the most exasperating person you’ve ever met. Hell, woman, I’m not even trying yet.” Richie flopped back down on the love seat, his eyes still shining with mirth. Suddenly, he sat upright. “No fucking way,” he said, looking at Morganna.

“What are you talking about?” Morganna said, confused.

“The big fucking light bulb just went on,” Richie said. He pointed a finger at her. “I read, you know. I’m not just some big dumb goofy guy. I figured out your deal.”

“I don’t understand,” Morganna said, looking to her sister. Fiona just shrugged.

Richie stood again, and got in Morganna’s face, pointing a finger at her. “You, Ms. Fairy, Ms. FEY....Ms. Morganna the Fey....Morgan la Fey.... YOU killed King Arthur, didn’t you? All that shit is real, isn’t it?”

Jon stood too, finally, unable to sit back and watch his friend slowly lose his marbles. “Rich, just what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Damn,” Richie said, laughing, and turning to Jon. “This is like a bad Monty Python sketch.” He made his voice deep and pointed a finger at Jon. “Arthur,” he intoned, “Arthur, King of the Britons! Oh, don't grovel! If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people groveling.”

He switched his voice to a very good approximation of Graham Chapman. “Sorry.”

Richie went on, playing out the whole scene, alternating between God and Arthur. “And don't apologize. Every time I try to talk to someone it's ‘sorry this’ and ‘forgive me that’ and ‘I'm not worthy’. What are you doing now!?”

“I'm averting my eyes, oh Lord.”

“Richard,” Morganna warned, but he was having none of it. He was on a roll.

Richie continued in a deep voice, totally ignoring Morganna. “Well, don't. It's like those miserable Psalms — they're so depressing. Now knock it off!”

“Yes, Lord.”

“Right! Arthur, King of the Britons -- your Knights of the Round Table shall have a task to make them an example in these dark times.”

“Good idea, oh Lord!”

By this time, Jon couldn’t help himself, and joined in. “Course it's a good idea!” they shouted together, and dissolved into a fit of hysterics.

“ENOUGH!” Morganna bellowed, her color high. She turned to Fiona. “Sister, you are on your own. Debt owed or not, I would rather spend an eternity reliving Accolon’s betrayal or suffering Urien’s cruelty than one more moment of this idiocy.”

“Morganna!” Fiona gasped. “Surely you cannot be serious?”

Richie, tears streaming down his face, interjected, “She is serious. And don’t call her ‘Shirley’.” He was laughing so hard he was doubled over, holding his stomach. This new quip evaporated Jon’s control, and he let out great barks of laughter.

Morganna raised her arms, freezing Jon and Richie in place. Their eyes frantically bounced around the room as they struggled to move. Nodding her head in satisfaction at them, she turned to her sister. “Fiona, I cannot stand that these two imbeciles are meant to save the world. Humanity is doomed.”

Fiona hugged her sister. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said.

Morganna raised an eyebrow. “Like you don’t let Jon get to you?” she asked.

“Yes, well, you’ve always had better control over yourself than most. Please, I’m begging you.” Fiona gripped Morganna’s hand firmly. “I will release you from your promise if it is truly what you want, but I’m begging you to help me.”

Morganna looked from her sister to the two men, frozen in time. Crossing to them, she leaned in close. “I will consider it if they can behave themselves. No more blasphemy.” She looked at Richie. “No more crude jokes at my expense.” She looked at Jon. “No more.”

Fiona came up behind her sister. “I’m sure they can behave themselves.”

“I am not so sure,” Morganna countered. “But I can be reasonable. They must promise to try,” she emphasized the last word, and watched the men’s eyes. They looked ready to promise anything as long as Morganna would release them. “This is life or death, gentlemen,” Morganna said. “Not only yours, but everyone’s. The fate of every living being on this Earth is in your hands. That is not something to be taken lightly.” Morganna sighed and took a step backwards. With a flick of her wrist, the men un-froze, collapsing onto the couch.

Morganna gave them a disgusted look and vanished.

“What the fuck just happened?” Jon asked Fiona.

Fiona gave them a wry smile and said, “She just Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo’d your ass. And if you don’t want her to do it again, I suggest you cut the shite.” She looked at Richie. “No more jokes about Camelot and King Arthur,” she said. “And for the record, Morganna did NOT kill Arthur.”

Richie’s eyes went wide. “All that was really real? Not a myth? Arthur and the knights? Excalibur? It was all real?” He shook his head. “Should I try to go apologize to her?”

Fiona put up a hand. “Wait, what did you say?”

Richie looked confused. “I was asking about apologizing.”

“No, no, before that.”

Richie looked at Jon. Jon just rolled his eyes. “Attention span of a flea, man. You were talking about Arthur and Excalibur.”

“That’s it!” Fiona exclaimed.

“What’s what?” Jon asked, just as confused as his friend.

“That which only the chosen can use. Excalibur!” Fiona was chattering excitedly to herself. She rubbed at the ring on her finger, and Morganna reappeared.

“What, sister,” she said, annoyed.

“Their idiocy was not all bad,” Fiona answered.

“Hey!” Jon said, indignant at being called an idiot, even tangentially.

“Oh hush,” Fiona told him, her wide smile taking the sting out of her command. “Sister, we’ve sorted out that which only the chosen can use. It’s Excalibur!”

Once they all had steaming coffee cups in hand, Jon suggested they move to the den for the ‘explanation portion of the program’. Fiona had laughed lightly at his words, but Morganna had frowned slightly at him, not understanding the joke. Jon had smiled hearing Fiona’s tinkling laughter, biding his time until he could rattle the little fairy again. Some people would consider him crazy for thinking of what happened in his bedroom earlier as a mark in the win column, but he’d always been one to think outside the box. Next time he wouldn’t hesitate.

The furniture in the den was arranged in a squared off ‘U’ shape, obviously chosen for comfort not necessarily style. Two chocolate brown leather love seats sat facing each other, while a matching sofa made up the bottom of the ‘U’. A large square coffee table sat in the center. Jon sat down on the sofa facing the open end where Fiona now stood preparing to give her ‘presentation’. After sitting his coffee cup down on the table, Richie plopped down on the love seat on Jon’s right.

A slight smile curled Fiona’s lips over the seating. Apparently, it was a habit for Richie to be on Jon’s right. She straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, even as her sister took a seat across from Richie. Fiona had spent the whole night trying to come up with the right words to explain what the men needed to know. She hoped she was ready.

Taking a deep breath, she began. “Let’s start with your powers. I’ve already explained how it affects mortals. It has no effect at all on Fey. Lucie and his demon minions are different. My brother is very powerful. He can use his powers from a far enough distance to be able to avoid your power. His minions, however, will have to get in close. Your voices will slow them down, make their movements sluggish. Part of them will try to resist you, while the other part of them will want to listen and obey, but only if you sing your commands.”

“Music calms the savage beast,” Richie commented.

“Exactly,” Fiona exclaimed, her smile lighting up her whole face. “Only these ‘beasts’ will know that you are attempting to control them and will fight it. But, causing them to move in almost slow motion will give us the time needed to defeat an army with just the four of us.”

“Wait. Whoa!” Jon leaned forward on the sofa, bracing his elbows on his knees. “An army? Just the four of us? You’re out of your mind, woman!”

Morganna seemed to take offense at his words. “You doubt our abilities? I can assure you that my sister and I are quite capable.” She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and Richie’s earring glittered prettily.

There was not even time for a look to pass between the sisters before a remote went flying straight at Fiona’s head. It never made it. With just a slight squinting of her eyes, the television remote burst into a zillion pieces, scattering to all four corners of the room. Before all the pieces could even settle, the stereo remote went flying straight at Jon. He fell back on the sofa trying to avoid it, but that was unnecessary. It, too, was zapped with just a squinting of Fiona’s eyes, showering Jon in little plastic pieces.

“Hey!” Jon was all righteous male indignation. After all, he who holds the remote rules the world. “I needed those!”

In a blink of an eye, and with just a snap of Fiona’s fingers the two remotes were once again resting in their place on the table in front of Jon.

Richie grinned. “Before you decide to zap him too, let me assure you, it’s not you ladies that my friend is doubting.”

Fiona was the one that seemed to be offended by that. She seemed to take it as a personal insult. “What?! How could ya doot yurself now, mon? Ya ne’er have afore.” She jabbed one finger in Jon’s direction. “In fact, yur one a tha most cocky men I’ve e’er had the misfortune ta meet.”

Jon’s eyebrows arched high and a smirk flirted with the corner of his mouth, but not at the Irish in her tone. Richie laughed out loud at the look on his friend’s face, correctly interpreting Jon’s thoughts. He had found her choice of words amusing. Richie couldn’t let that one go. “No, Fee. You don’t mind if I call you Fee, do you?” He continued without waiting for a response. “I’m probably the most ‘cocky’ man you’ve ever had the misfortune to meet.” Then he fell back on the love seat laughing at his own joke, not even sobering when he realized he was the only one laughing. That little fact just made him laugh harder.

“You’re always thinking with your dick,” Jon said, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re the one that brought it up,” Richie defended, still laughing.

Morganna had started blushing the moment Richie’s words had left his mouth, even while he was rolling with laughter. Fiona stood clueless, not getting the joke, until her sister looked her dead in the eye. Just a slight widening of Morganna’s eyes was all it took for the light bulb to finally come on, then she too was blushing and blustering.

While the silent communication went on between the sisters, the men continued. “No, actually, I think it was Fiona that brought it up,” Jon pointed out, stressing the last three words.

Richie’s dream from earlier flitted through his mind, and a wicked little grin curved his lips as his eyes met Morganna’s. “No, that’s you. It was Anna that ‘brought it up’.”

“Enough!” Morganna said, rising from the couch. She slowly made her way toward her sister, trying to get her color under control. “Can we please be serious?”

Richie smiled. “I’m always serious about my—”

“I SAID ENOUGH!” Morganna shouted, before Richie could finish his sentence. Her sister giggled. Morganna never raised her voice in anger.

“Oh, come on, Anna,” Richie said chuckling. “It’s just a little harmless flir—”

Morganna whirled toward the men; an angry blush tinting her cheeks; her violet eyes shooting sparks. Literally.

“Uh, oh,” Fiona said under her breath, barely containing a smile. “You’re twistin’ hay now.”

Richie was mesmerized by a seriously pissed off Morganna. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her furious beauty. She reached up to touch the earring Richie had given her, and he felt a mild tingling low in his belly. Not lust, exactly, but something more uncomfortable. He looked at her, almost believing that she was purposefully making him feel the slight burn. He just as quickly dismissed the notion. Jon, however, saw just how pissed off she was, saw Richie’s slight wince of discomfort, and tried to play peacemaker before things got out of control.

“Morganna, he didn’t mean – ” Jon’s apology on Richie’s behalf was interrupted by an unladylike snort and a pointed look from Fiona. He sighed. “Okay, he did mean it, but really, he didn’t intend to make you angry.”

“Calm yourself, sister,” Fiona said softly. “Remember, you are here to help me, not Lucie.”

As quickly as Morganna’s anger came up, it dissolved, shimmering visibly in the room. Richie’s insides calmed, and he looked at her, shocked. “You, you were trying to HURT me?”

Morganna shook her head. “If I were trying, you’d be hurt,” she said. “I am sorry to have used magic against you, but you have to understand that this is no joking matter.”

“And you have to understand that jokes are a defense mechanism for some men,” Richie retorted. “You don’t think that this all isn’t a little fucking daunting?” He rose from the loveseat and crossed the room, standing toe to toe with Morganna. “Well it is,” he said, practically shouting in her face. “This is so fucking out there it’s nearly unbelievable. The devil and demons. Sorceresses. Fairies.”

“Fey,” Fiona said absently, though Richie didn’t seem to hear her.

“Rich, man,” Jon warned, but Richie waved him off.

“It is so fucking beyond – words can’t describe. So excuse the piss out of me if I crack a joke once in a while to break the fucking tension!”

“Are you through?” Morganna asked quietly.

“Lady, I’m not even getting started yet,” Richie answered. “How the fuck did you do that to me. What were you doing?”

“I was trying to get your attention,” Morganna answered, contritely. She really did feel badly for letting her temper get the best of her.

“Well, you fucking well have it now,” Richie said, still shouting.

Morganna lightly fingered the earring again, and Richie felt an overwhelming sense of calm. He felt his heart rate returning to normal. He was still angry, but even that was fading. Then he realized what she was doing.

“Stop that!” he said, indignant at being manipulated. Morganna quickly dropped her hand from her ear. Richie put two and two together fairly quickly. “You’re using my earring as a what? As a, a, a, conduit or something?”

“Something like that,” Morganna admitted. “It allows me to concentrate on you; to connect to you.”

Richie held out his hand. “Give it back to me,” he said.

Morganna just shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I won’t. I need it to help protect you. It will aid me in casting spells to assist you if you need it.”

Richie’s hand wavered. “Cast spells? Jesus, does it get any more fucked up than this?” he asked. He dropped his hand to his side and went back to his seat. “Fine, whatever.” He picked up his coffee mug and frowned into it before taking a deep pull.

Jon looked from Richie to Morganna, and finally to Fiona. “So, Fee, do you cast spells too?”

Fiona shook her head. “No. Anna is the apprentice. She is the caster.”

“About that,” Morganna said, looking hesitatingly at Richie before turning to fully face Jon. “I need something from you as well; something that has been close to you for a long time. Something to help me connect to you if you need help.”

Jon slid his eyes toward Richie who had groaned and let his head drop back on the sofa. “Don’t do it, man,” Richie said, his eyes closed.

Morganna sat beside Jon. “I swear on my existence that I will not do anything to harm you or Richard.”

“Again,” Richie said. “You mean, ‘harm Richard again’.”

“Fine, ‘again’. I do need something of yours, and I can’t steal it; you have to give it willingly for it to have power to help protect you.”

“What do you want?” Jon asked. “I have a box full of jewelry upstairs, but nothing really personal, I guess. Jon shifted on the couch, and Fiona watched the play of muscles in his chest when he moved. His arms bunched and released as he ran a hand through his hair while he thought.

His arms.

“Jon,” Fiona started. “What about Superman?”

Jon shook his head. “If you’ve been with me my whole life, you know I don’t have that anymore,” he said, referring to his pendant.

“Not that,” Fiona answered, going to him. She raised the sleeve of his t-shirt, exposing his tattoo. “This.”

“What?” Jon asked. “Give her my tattoo?” He laughed. “I prefer not to give a pound of flesh for the cause until strictly necessary, thank you very much,” he said.

“No,” Morganna said, “it’s perfect, and you won’t even know it’s gone.”

Jon looked at her skeptically, then turned to look at Richie. “Rich?”

“Don’t ask me, man,” Richie answered. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around all this shit.”

Jon looked at Morganna. “Alright,” he said decisively, though he was anything but sure.

Morganna rolled up her sleeve and pressed the inside of her wrist to his shoulder. She closed her eyes, and Jon saw her lips move, though he couldn’t hear what she was saying. A moment later, Morganna sat back, and Jon stared in amazement at the tattoo on her arm.

“That’s amazing!” Jon declared. He grabbed her arm without thinking, and didn’t see her narrowing eyes. “A perfect copy, down to the faded ink.” He chuckled. “Damn, it’s time to get it touched up.” He dropped Morganna’s hand and looked at his own arm, and his eyes widened. He looked at the would-be sorceress.

“Aye,” Morganna said simply. “’Tis no copy.”

“Fuck me,” Jon said, half under his breath, rubbing his arm.

“You didn’t feel that, did you?” Morganna asked.

“No,” Jon said, “but I feel it missing just the same. It’s.... well....” He shook his head. “I’m going to get it back, right?” he asked.

Morganna smiled and nodded. “Aye, if we do our jobs right, you will get it back.”

“If you do your jobs right?” Richie asked, drawing everyone’s attention. He was more than half afraid of the response.

“Aye,” Morganna said again. “For I cannot yet work magic on the dead.”

Jon’s head whipped around to look into Fiona’s eyes. “Dead?”

She nodded, but said fiercely, “Aye. But don’t concern yourself with that. You will not die. Not on my watch.”

Sunlight filtered through the blinds in thin little streaks. It was bright enough that he could see it even behind his closed eyelids as he slowly came awake. He stretched slowly, yawning as he did. It was the sudden awareness that he was not alone in the room that had him jerking fully awake and his eyes popping open. Quickly, he scanned the room until his eyes came to rest on Fiona. She stood on the other side of the bed staring down at him as if she’d been willing him to wake up.

He frowned at her. “Is this going to become a habit with you?”

She shrugged one shoulder and smiled smugly at him. “Become a habit?” Her laughter trilled musically, as she tried to cover her mouth with her small hand.

Jon realized then how stupid his question had been. She’d already admitted that she’d been watching him since the day he was born. He’d just never known she was there before, and that made all the difference in the world. That’s when his performance from last night flashed through his mind, and with an evil little smirk, he threw off the comforter and sheet that had pooled at his waist.

Fiona gasped and spun around so fast that her long hair flew out in a wide arc around her, but Jon hadn’t missed the admiring glance she’d given his naked body before she’d turned her back on him. With his smirk still firmly in place, he climbed out of bed.

With a blush creeping up her neck, Fiona cursed herself. By the Maker’s toes, what had gotten into her? How many times had she seen his naked form as he’d gone about unaware of her presence? Why had it embarrassed her now?

She chanced a peek at him over her shoulder and suddenly sucked in so much air there surely wasn’t a speck of dust on anything in the whole room now. Shakily, she spun back to face him. “Ya need to stop right there, mon.”

But he didn’t. He continued to advance toward her, the right side of his full lips lifted slightly in an evil smirk worthy of her brother. He heard the Irish in her tone and smiled even more. Had he shaken her self control? Good.

Jon circled around his bed with almost deadly intent. Fiona could see it in his flashing blue eyes, and two words came to mind. Predator. Prey. She raised her chin several notches, refusing to back away in fear.

When he reached her, Jon let his fingers float down her arm from elbow to wrist, the guitar string calluses barely touching her skin, and with his left hand he lightly stroked her jaw line from ear to chin.

Fiona would have sworn that all the butterflies in Tír na nÓg had been turned loose in her belly. Was this what lust felt like? She stood wide eyed, staring up at him like some star struck ninny, while his lips drew closer to hers. Strange. She realized she was holding her breath, waiting for those full lips to touch hers. That’s when she let out a little squeak and disappeared into thin air.

Jon stumbled forward with a curse, unable to believe that she’d just vanished just as his lips were about to meet hers. He’d finally rattled the little fairy. His laughter bounced off the walls.

Things were already looking up.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Richie opened his eyes to see a very naked, very lush Morganna hovering over his bed, a full three feet from his body. Her skin glowed from within, and her long hair tickled at his chest. With a quick shift of her eyes, the sheet flew from Richie's body, leaving him exposed to her perusal. Her eyes were finally alive, sparkling in the moonlight as she took in the sight before her. Richie reached up to wrap her lustrous hair around his wrist and gave a gentle tug; she floated down to lay on top of him.

At first, his lips on hers were soft, teasing, tasting. Morganna stiffened for the briefest instant, then she gave herself over to the kiss. It turned harder, firmer. His mouth and hers were more demanding. His tongue was forceful in the need to taste her.

Richie’s hands didn’t know what to do with themselves, so they first fisted in her hair. He groaned at the feel of the silky tresses, and luxuriated in the feel of them wrapped around his wrists. Long minutes later, his hands cautiously unwound from her hair, and moved slowly to her neck, his thumbs tracing the racing pulse just under her ears. He embraced Morganna, his arms nearly wrapping all the way around her slender form. His hands traced the ridges of her spine and finally came to rest on the perfect globes of her ass. He pulled her to him, letting her feel his arousal.

Richie watched a feral smile creep across her face, Morganna slid back until he could feel his cock rubbing against her slit. Her eyes rolled back briefly at the feel of his hot flesh on hers. After a long, lingering moment, she pushed backwards so he was buried in her. All the way in. Richie saw stars when she clenched around him. When she sat up and started to ride him, they both rose from the bed. Richie could feel the tension building fast. Very fast. He was no young kid, but he was about to go off from just the briefest of interludes. His eyes closed, and his head lolled to the side, resting on the invisible pillow that supported him.

"Anna," he breathed, as he reached up for her breasts. His heart was pounding so hard, he thought it would burst right out of his chest. He could hear Morganna’s heart pounding hard, too.

Wait a minute, that wasn’t right.

“Anna,” he rasped, perched on the edge of ecstasy, “is that your heart pounding? It sounds like it’s coming from across the room.”

Morganna stopped her movements, and looked down at Richie. “Alas, ‘tis not me.”

The pounding came again, this time, sounding like it came from the door. Morganna sighed and the pair of them crashed to the mattress. “What the fuck?” Richie asked, furious at the interruption.

Morganna’s eyes were wet with regret. “It is time,” she said, climbing off him.

“No! Don’t go. Time? Time for what?” Richie asked. He reached for her, but she evaded his grasp.

“Time to face your destiny. I am sorry.” She vanished, dissipating into thin air.

The pounding continued. Richie heard Jon’s voice, a distant shout. “Rich! You up yet, you lazy bastard?”

Disoriented, Richie sat up in bed, very clearly alone. His erection, straining from the dream, started to wane fast; Jon had that effect on him. Grumbling, he shouted back, “I am now, you inconsiderate prick. I was having a hell of a dream.”

“Fuck that,” Jon called. “Get your ass downstairs. We have shit to figure out. It’s tomorrow, Scarlett, and I made coffee.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waited until he heard retreating footsteps in the hallway, then fell back to the mattress with a sigh. He then remembered that he probably had a visitor. "Morganna? You up there somewhere watching me, darlin'?"

He listened for a minute but didn't hear or see anything. Shrugging, he tossed back the covers and got out of bed. He almost immediately tripped over something on the floor, and nearly took out a wall when he crashed into it. "What the fuck?" he asked, rubbing his sore shoulder. Looking down, he saw a long green robe tangled around his feet. He didn't recognize it, and it took a moment for the lightbulb to go on. So Morganna had seen him, did she? Richie smiled to himself. It was going to be a very interesting day.

Fifteen minutes later, Richie strode arrogantly into the kitchen, and made a beeline for the coffeepot. He poured a huge mugful and gulped greedily, heedless of the fact it was piping hot.

"Jesus, Rich," Jon said as he watched his friend all but chug the mug of coffee. "Should we just hook you up to a coffee IV?"

"Can we?" Richie said. "I fucking well could use it."

"Are you awake yet? Can we please figure out what the fuck we're going to do?"

"Jonny, my friend, I already know what we're going to do."

"Oh really?" Jon's voice was dripping with doubt. "And what, pray tell, is your brilliant plan?"

"You and me, my brother, are going to save the world."

Fiona couldn't take it anymore. She popped to full size, and the men jumped when they saw her perched on top of the refrigerator. "Oh you are a bold one, aren't ya, then?" she asked Richie, shaking her head.

"Am I wrong?" he asked her, challenge in his eyes.

"No, you aren't wrong," Fiona answered, floating gracefully to the floor. "But you could have a little more respect for the gravity of this situation." She crossed to the coffeepot and helped herself to a cup, inhaling the fragrance deeply before taking a small sip.

"We would, if you'd tell us just exactly what the HELL we're supposed to do!" Jon said, exasperated.

Morganna chose that moment to blink in. "Shouting at us is not going to make us inclined to help you." She looked at Richie and blushed, remembering seeing him in all his glory last night. He smiled rakishly at her and toasted her with his mug.

"You have no choice but to help us," Jon reminded her.

Fiona shook her head. "No, no, child, we have no choice but to protect you. We do not have to help you."

"But you will," Richie said softly.

Fiona sighed. "Aye, we will."