Crystal - uh - sink?

“Do you really believe Jon and I can defeat the dev – uh, your brother?” Richie tried to cover his faux pas, but there was nothing wrong with Morganna’s hearing.

Stifling a smile at his slip, for this was no laughing matter and she shouldn’t be smiling, Morganna answered, “he can never truly be vanquished. You are Catholic; surely you must know this to be true.”

Richie smiled wryly. “No I did not know ‘this to be true’,” he said. “And don’t call me ‘Shirley’.” At Morganna’s raised eyebrow, he added, “Never mind. Stupid human joke. What’s the point then of all this?” He climbed a few stairs and cursed loudly. “I’m sorry; I have to rest for a minute.” He leaned heavily against the wall and clutched his sides as each breath sent shards of pain through his lungs.

“Richard, your color,” Morganna said, concerned. “It is not good.”

He chuckled humorlessly. “Well, the sensations aren’t at all good, either.” He groaned and rubbed lightly at his ribs. “Shit, I’ll bet they’re broken,” he said. “I’ve been battered and bruised a lot in my day and this feels completely different. Sucky different.”

Morganna stood before him and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. She gently separated the sides of his shirt and pushed them aside. The bruising on his ribcage made her wince. She put very gentle, baby’s breath pressure on one of the bruises, and Richie moaned pitifully.

“Oh merciful Heavens,” she said. “This won’t do at all.” Her gaze followed the same path her fingers had taken, and Richie felt the heat of her gaze more acutely than the burning pain of his broken ribs. “I don’t know when my brother will try again but we do not have the luxury of letting you heal on your own.” She raised her head to meet his eyes. “If you can make it upstairs and lie down, I can help you. Heal you.”

“Like Jon’s cut?”

“Yes,” Morganna confirmed. “I must warn you, however, and apologize in advance, but you will feel a brilliant rush of heated pain before it heals. Knitting flesh just itches. Knitting bones hurt like, well,” she chuckled, “like the devil.”

Richie nodded slowly. “As long as the pain goes away and I can help finish this thing.” He pushed back from the wall, and his chest bumped Morganna’s. She jumped back as if she were burned. Richie didn’t notice, as the pain from the movement made his vision swim. “And you still haven’t answered my question,” he said.

Confused, Morganna tilted her head at him. “And of what question do you speak, child?”

“What’s the point of all of this if we can’t possibly win?”

Morganna smiled. “I did not say you could not win; I merely said my brother could not be vanquished. Let us just get you upstairs and into bed.” She blushed at Richie’s raised eyebrows and devastating smile.

“Looks like I’m not the only one with a wild streak,” he teased.

“Child, you are in no shape to entertain such thoughts,” Morganna scolded.

Richie just laughed. “My brain is not what’s hurtin’ Anna, darlin’.” He let a little drawl tinge his voice and Morganna was annoyed to find her heart tripping in her chest.

“Come, Richard,” she said. “I promise, I will explain it all to you as you heal.”

“Will you tell me about Accolon too?” Richie asked. At Morganna’s startled look, Richie continued. “You said ‘Steady, Accolon’ when those creature things were getting ready to attack. I saw a portrait of someone by that name hanging over a suit of armor in Nimue’s weird room.”

“His portrait still hangs?” Morganna asked, her mouth running dry.

“I don’t know about ‘still’,” he said, “but yes, it’s there. Who is he?”

Their slow progress had finally brought them to Richie’s door. “He was my one greatest love, and my one greatest heartache,” she said softly. Morganna opened the door and helped Richie to the bed.

He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, and let out a heavy sigh. “And I remind you of him?” he asked quietly.

“Aye you do,” she confirmed. “No more talk for you.” She leaned in to push his shirt off of his shoulders. She pulled the tails gently out from under his butt, and dropped it on the floor. “Lie down now, and let me take care of you.”

“You keep takin’ my clothes off and talkin’ all dirty to me, and I won’t be responsible for what I do.”

Morganna blushed and smiled. “Save your strength,” she said. “You are going to need it.”

Richie settled as best he could on the soft mattress. “How long will the healing take?” he asked through gritted teeth as the razor sharp pain of breathing intensified with the shift in angle.

“Not long, but it will feel like an eternity.” She looked down at him, at the naked fear and trust in his eyes. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be.” Richie closed his eyes.

Morganna took a deep breath and pressed her hands hard into Richie’s sides, making him yelp. He kept his hands fisted at his sides, and fought a wave of nausea. Morganna started to murmur soft words, and palpated her fingers along his ribs.

Richie’s jaw clenched as the pain seared through him. Though he tried to be stoic, he couldn’t help but cry out again as her fingers hit an obvious fracture. Sweat popped along his brow and his legs stiffened. “Tell me,” he pleaded. “About your brother. Why can’t we beat him?”

“You can beat him,” Morganna insisted. “You just cannot kill him.” She took in Richie’s pain and couldn’t stand watching his agony. She stopped what she was doing, and Richie relaxed on the bed.

“I still feel some pain,” Richie said, before he could stop himself.

“I am not done,” Morganna said. She stroked the earring in her lobe several times, making it glow a soft white. She put her hands on Richie again, and began a different incantation.

This time, when Richie felt the pain, it was more of a warm glow than a burning ache. He was able to stay still and started to concentrate on the words Morganna was saying. When he heard “take thy pain unto me” he protested. Morganna ignored him, speaking faster. In moments, Richie’s pain was gone. He watched as Morganna’s stance wavered, and felt her touch lighten. She was weakening.

“Anna?” Richie said, tentatively. “The pain is gone. But what are you doing? What have you done? Are you alright?”

Morganna dropped her hands from Richie’s body, and sunk to the floor. “Give me a moment, child. Let me gather my strength.” She raised a hand to stop him from coming to her. “Just a moment.” She lay her head down and closed her eyes.

Richie sat quietly for a minute, just staring at Morganna. He slowly sat up, testing his motion and awed to find he had no residual pain. He sat on the floor next to Morganna and rubbed slow circles on her back. After a few minutes of slow, shallow breathing, Morganna sat up. “You were lucky your injuries were not more severe,” she said, touching his ribs again. “You did indeed have several broken ribs. It would have been no hard thing for any of those splintered bones to pierce your heart.”

Richie gently took up her hand and brought it to her lips. “Why did you do that?” he asked softly, kissing her knuckles. “Why did you subject yourself to the pain? It made you so weak. You could have been seriously...”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Morganna interrupted, gently extricating her hand from his. “I recited the incantation for two reasons. First, to be perfectly candid, your pain was causing me distress.” She smiled at Richie’s surprise. “Yes, child, your pain bothers me. I care about what happens to you.”

“Anna,” Richie said softly. “I’m not a child. What was the second reason?”

“To illustrate my point better than any words would. In your healing there was good and bad. Both are sides of the same plane. You cannot have one without the other. It is why you cannot kill my brother. You cannot rid the world of bad, for it would harm the good.”

“Why not? Why can’t everything just be good?” Richie asked.

“How would we know what good is without knowing evil?” Morganna looked at him warmly. “How would we know the smile of a child is good, if we did not know the maniacal grin of a child molester to be evil? If we did not know what actions were evil, would we know what actions were good? Can good even exist without evil?”

Richie shook his head. “Of course good can exist without evil. Look at remote cultures. They don’t have the same problems we do.”

“No, but they have their own. They may not have murders, but do they not starve? We could argue this until the end of time, but the answer would not change. Good and Evil are yin and yang. They are a man and his shadow. One is invisible at times, but it always present. This is the reason why you cannot destroy my brother. You can defeat him, but he will never truly be destroyed.”

“Yeah, well, your reason sucks,” Richie said petulantly. He looked at Morganna with tenderness. “Are you sure you’re alright?” He reached out for her again, but she stood up to avoid his touch.

She nodded. “Yes, as Fiona has said, we heal quickly. Are YOU alright?”

“I don’t feel any pain, but I’m not sure I’m alright. This is a lot to take in. And what did Merlin mean by arming me? And what about Accolon?”

Morganna dusted off her hands and turned toward the bathroom. As she turned, her clothing transformed back into the long dress she had been wearing before the battle. Her hair, released from its braid, flowed down her back in a cascade of dark curls. Halfway, she stopped and turned back to Richie.

“The battle with my brother will not be against creatures similar to those you have just destroyed,” she began. “The foes you will face will be devastatingly difficult to fight. You must be armed to defend not only your life, but Jon’s. Much the same way we learned of Jon’s weapon, so shall we learn of yours. Once its identity is revealed to the Elders, we will be made aware. Then we can fetch the instrument of your salvation.”

“And yours?” Richie asked.

“My own life is of no consequence. You and your friend are the important ones.”

“Of no consequence? But – ”

Morganna cut him off. “In the history of the universe, the Fey have played important, but small roles. It is Humankind that is critical. In the grand scheme of things, my life, or Fiona’s for that matter, means little. We would gladly sacrifice them so that you may succeed, and Lucifer be thwarted.”

Richie was shocked. “So you would die for this?”

Morganna nodded. “Of course. It is our lot in this existence to be where we are needed. To perform our duties to the fullest extent of our power, magical and otherwise. If that includes perishing so that a race may be saved, who are we to deny our destiny?” She shook her head when Richie continued to protest. “Richard, there is nothing to be argued. The Fates have determined my destiny. They set me on this path a lifetime ago.” She turned back toward the bathroom, and took a tentative step. “Come with me, Richard,” Morganna commanded softly.

Richie stood and followed Morganna into the bathroom, where she had filled the sink basin with water. As he watched, she passed her hand over the smooth, clear surface, and watched it cloud over.

“No crystal ball?” he asked wryly.

“I could fetch one if you prefer, but this works equally well.”

“Seriously?”

“I am always serious,” Morganna said.

“Pity,” Richie murmured under his breath. Using his normal speaking voice, he asked, “So what are you going to show me?”

“I will show you Accolon.”

Richie watched as Morganna closed her eyes. He saw her lips move as she murmured an incantation, but he couldn’t make out her words. Soon, the water in the wide basin began to cloud over.

“What the hell?” Richie said under his breath. Though nothing should surprise him after the day he had survived, he was still shocked to see images form just under the surface of the water. “Who are they?” he asked when he saw two figures sitting on a dais.

“King Arthur and his wife, the Lady Guinevere,” Morganna answered. “I am by the Lady’s feet.”

“They’re real people? Not just myths? Holy shit.” Richie peered into the sink then back at Morganna. “You look the same there. You haven’t aged a day!”

“I have aged more than a lifetime since living that particular memory,” Anna corrected, a wistful and sad look in her eyes.

As they watched, Accolon strode into the hall, walking toward the dais, away from their vision. Richie saw the man’s long dark hair curl slightly at the ends, and could hear his leather boots ringing out against the stone floor. “Sound?” Richie asked, his voice getting quiet. “The sink gets sound?”

“Child, you are trying my patience. Do you wish to know of Accolon or not?”

Chastised, Richie turned his attention back to the water. As Accolon walked, his cloak billowed out behind him, revealing a glimpse of a golden sword with a jeweled hilt secured in a scabbard at his waist. He watched as Morganna, the Morganna in the vision, fairly swooned at Accolon’s presence. He also saw a possessive look in the Lady’s eyes. He shifted his glance to Anna, who had the barest hint of a scowl on her face.

“I apologize Richard,” she said finally, catching his sidelong glance. “Memories of Accolon bring out my worst.”

Richie smirked. “I have a few memories of my own I’d much rather not relive, so I thank you for sharing yours.” He reached out for her hand again, and this time she didn’t pull away.

He watched the sink with interest, waiting for a glimpse of the man who caused Morganna such pain. When he finally saw the knight’s face, Richie’s own paled. “That’s me,” he whispered. “Well, me twenty years ago, but still me. Holy fuck.”

In the moment before he dropped Morganna’s hand another scene flashed in the water. This was of a creamy white shoulder behind a strong broad back. “Sweet hell!” he yelled, pulling the plug on the sink. He looked at Morganna. “No wonder you ‘care about what happens to me’.” He shook his head and shouldered his way out of the room. “No wonder you think this is your destiny,” he called over his shoulder. “I remind you of him, you say. No shit! We’re THE SAME FUCKING PERSON!”

“You are worlds different, dear Richard,” she murmured under her breath, so as not to be heard. A bit louder she said, “I agree, there is some similarity in your appearance,” as she followed Richie into the bedroom, “and it is what made me realize that my destiny has already been mapped out.” She watched as he grabbed his shirt off the bed and shrugged into it, holding the sides closed.

“SOME similarity?” he bellowed. “Unbelievable.” He stalked to the door and flung it open. After taking two steps out of the room, he whirled around. “Wait a minute, this is MY fucking room. YOU go!” He narrowed his eyes. “And stay gone. No invisible shrinking fairy shit from you.” He shook his head and stepped back, giving Morganna room to pass. “SOME similarity?” he muttered again, anger turning his voice hard. “Jesus, it was like looking at a fucking home movie!”

Morganna tilted her head at Richie and asked, "I don't understand. What is a home movie?"

“I’m not explaining that one, and don’t change the subject!" he growled, running his fingers through already rumpled hair. "Go ask your damned sister."

“Richard,” Morganna said, approaching him, her voice soft and firm. “I swear to you, I did not register the resemblance until my sister pointed it out to me. Accolon is my past. A memory. You are the here and now. I did not mean for that memory to surface.”

Richie, seething by the door, was shaking his head. “Yeah, well, it did. Clearly Accolon was important to you in the past. And what am I, your future? I don’t think so.” He looked down at Morganna, and saw the honesty etched in her face. He sighed, and his posture relaxed. “Look, Morganna, this is just... I have to have some time to wrap my head around this shit, you know? I mean, hell, I don’t even know what I mean. Just go, alright? Thank you for fixing my ribs, and for warning me that I have to find some weapon or another, but right now, I need you to go.”

“I will honor your wish,” Morganna answered. “But know this. I cannot allow a personal matter to interfere with your destiny.”

Richie correctly read between the lines. “Oh no. Do not fuck with my head. I will figure a way to put this away for now, don’t you worry.”

Morganna nodded. “Aye you will have to. You have until morn.”