Dontcha Hear Your Mama Calling You?

In that still fuzzy around the edges time between sleeping and waking, when your eyes still feel better closed than open, Jon’s mind raced with thoughts of the night before. A small part of his mind, probably the sane corner from last night, was aware that he’d probably been dreaming about it before he started waking up.

Something wasn’t right about the episode, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He had wanted Fiona with an intensity that he’d barely been able to control, wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a woman before, but the hinky part was that it had come out of nowhere. Just BAM!

He stretched, groaning at the deliciousness of the act, and turned toward Fiona. She looked so peaceful in slumber. She lay on her stomach, facing him, with one hand curled under her chin, the other arm was curled above her head, cupping the pillow to her cheek. They’d had a wild night. She deserved the rest.

Carefully, he rolled out of bed, trying not to disturb her. With just the barest rustling of his clothes, he pulled on a pair of jeans, and headed out the door, grabbing Excalibur off his dresser before the door closed behind him.

The smell of coffee hit him long before he entered the kitchen, but he never would’ve thought he’d find Richie already awake and awaiting him there. His brother sat at the table with a cup of coffee wrapped in his big hands, but he looked up with a smile when Jon entered the room.

Richie couldn’t help but grin over Jon’s condition. The front man’s hair stood up in all directions obviously having been combed by eager fingers, most probably of the female fey variety. Jon even seemed to be moving way slower than normal. “Rough night?” he asked with a chuckle.

Jon gently laid Excalibur on the table before he made his way to the coffee pot. “Be right with ya, Rich,” he groaned. “Need coffee first.”

The grin never left Richie’s face as he watched Jon move gingerly about the room. He waited patiently until Jon had taken the chair that was at a right angle to his own, before asking again, “Rough night?”

“You don’t know the half of it, Rich.” Jon took a sip of coffee, closing his eyes and relishing that first drink, sniffing the rich aroma as he set the cup down on the table.

Richie nodded with an all-knowing smirk. “Oh, I think I have some idea.”

The right corner of Jon’s lips lifted in a small smirk. “Ah, so the King of Swing got in a little fairy fucking last night too?”

“Perhaps,” was all Richie had to say for the moment. He took a big drink from his cup.

Jon finally took a good look at Richie. Something was up. He wasn’t sure what, but Richie just had that look. The one that he’d seen so many times in the last quarter century. The steaming mug of coffee didn’t seem to be nearly as interesting any more. He sat it down slowly, frowning at Richie. “Spill it, fuckwad.”

Richie’s smile vanished, as his voice took on a very serious tone. “Before the teasing goes any farther, is Fee okay this morning? I mean, you didn’t hurt her last night, did you?”

Jon looked offended, as he shifted slightly in his chair. “You know me better than that,” he growled. Then to lighten the mood, he added, “But she might be walking funny this morning.”

“Funnier than you?”

Jon’s serious tone didn’t match the twinkle in his blue eyes. “Probably funnier.”

Both men paused to suck up some caffeine as the topic of discussion breezed into the room as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

Fiona smiled fondly at Jon. “Good morning.” She had to pass him to get to the coffee pot and paused briefly to kiss his cheek before heading toward the manna on the counter. She had just picked up the pot when her sister entered the kitchen. Fiona watched as her sister’s smile seemed to light up the entire room before it centered solely on Richie.

Richie returned Morganna's smile, then turned to smirk at Jon. "Not even a limp."

While the men had their conversation at the table, Fiona beckoned Morganna over to the coffee pot.

“Ah, so that glow I’m seein’,” she said. “That’s from him now, isn’t it?”

Morganna blushed and nodded before turning her full attention o building the perfect cup of coffee. “He was wonderful,” she answered. “Amazing. By the stars, the heavens moved!” She said this last a bit too loudly, and smiled at Richie when he looked over her way. She noticed her sister making eyes at Jon, and blushed deeper. “And I see a glow about you as well, sister,” she said to Fiona.

“Aye, I’m not quite sure what came over him,” she said softly. “But one moment we were discussing a strategy for the next time our brother makes an appearance, and the next he was,” she trailed off, embarrassed at saying the words out loud, even to her sister. She grabbed the cup of coffee from Morganna’s hands, and took a sip, avoiding finishing her sentence.

“The next...” prompted Morganna, though she knew exactly what had happened. She set about pouring a second cup of coffee for herself.

Fiona examined her sister’s expression. “You already know!” she exclaimed. Morganna just nodded. “Well, whatever the reason,” Fiona continued, it was simply bliss. Total bliss. He was quite insistent,” she said with a giggle.

“Sister,” Morganna said, horrified. “He did not, I mean to say, you wanted –”

“Fear not Morganna, dear sister,” Fiona said. “I was more than willing.”

The sisters clinked their mugs together and took long pulls of the steaming brew. Morganna smiled, remembering her own night, but frowned when something caught her eye.

“Sister,” she murmured urgently, eyes locking on Fiona’s ring.

“I see it,” Fiona answered. The pearl in Fiona’s ring normally white as a full moon, had a swirl of royal blue running through it. Morganna looked at her own ring, a perfect match to her sister’s, and saw the same swirl there as well. She met her sister’s eyes.

“And just when the coffee has reached the perfect temperature, too,” Fiona pouted. She sighed. “I guess we should tell them where we’re going, and see what she wants.”

Morganna shook her head. “It will only lead to questions. Besides, a quick jaunt to Tír na nÓg, and they’ll never know we were gone. We will be back before we’re missed.”

With one last glance over their shoulders, they slipped out the kitchen door to the back yard.

“Coming, mother,” they said in unison, then joined hands and stepped into the ring of stones in the garden.

The flowered field where they blinked in was empty, save for one stunningly beautiful woman. Long auburn hair spilled down her back in a riot of curls that reached nearly to her knees. Gold threads were woven into the tresses, catching the light of the sun. Clear gray eyes, their edge framed by delicate laugh lines, show no signs of happiness now.

The Lady Igraine opened her arms expectantly. “Daughters,” she said softly.

“Mother,” Morganna said warmly, stepping into her mother’s embrace. Fiona followed suit, and the three women shared a moment together.

“Fiona, the time is fast approaching – are your charges prepared for what their destiny has preordained?”

“They are as ready as they can be,” Fiona answered. “They both retrieved their instruments successfully, and have used them admirably. Their loyalty to each other is palpable, and could only serve to enhance whatever magick remains in Excalibur and Dorado.”

Igraine frowned. “That does not answer the question. Are they ready? They must not let your brother awaken the King. They must be prepared to do whatever is necessary, including sacrifice their lives, for this cause. Are the prepared to do that?”

Fiona and Morganna shared a look, remembering Jon’s willingness to take Fiona’s place with Lucie, and the cavalier way in which Richie was prepared to take on Lucie should Jon be taken. “Aye,” Fiona said. “We believe they are ready. They will do what they must.”

Igraine sighed with relief. “And how are you, my darlings?” she asked, the business portion of her summons out of the way. “You both look very well and happy.”

“We are well, thank you, Mother,” Morganna answered. “We will be better once this is behind us. Can you not do anything to persuade him to abandon his quest to waken Arthur?”

A quick head shake preceded the answer. “If I could, I would, but he will not be dissuaded from his chosen path. If I had birthed him and not only raised him, perhaps. He is as stubborn as his father.” Morganna and Fiona gasped. Their mother NEVER mentioned Lucie’s father. She must be under tremendous strain to make that slip. “Yes, I know,” Igraine continued, waiving away her daughters’ concern. “It is truly in the hands of your Sirens. The Guardians pray that they have the strength to prevail. You must help them, and be extremely careful. Your brother will not hesitate to kill you if it suits his purpose.”

Fiona remembered the feel of her brother’s dagger against her heart. “We know all too well, Mother,” she said. “We are as prepared as our charges to defend Avalon from Lucie.”

The Lady Igraine straightened her spine and coolly folded her hands in front of her. “Then I shall report back that all is as it should be. Arthur stirs in his slumber. He is aware of the time that is upon us. I pray he is allowed to sleep deeply once more.”

Morganna and Fiona embraced their mother, holding on a little tighter than when they greeted her. “We shall not fail,” Morganna said softly. “We have the power of right on our side.”

Igraine smiled. “That will help, but as you well know, that may not be enough. Go now, return to your Sirens. Prepare them for what is coming. Good luck and Godspeed my cherished ones.”

Fiona and Morganna clasped hands and stepped backwards until they entered the ring of flowers through which they had come. In the blink of an eye, they were back in the garden at Jon’s house.

“Come, sister,” Fiona said, steel fortifying her voice. “There is no time to waste. There are plans to be made.”

Wordlessly, Morganna followed Fiona back into the house.