Secrets Revealed

Giles had not been gone very long when a tiny ball of light came in through Melissa's window. She was having her hair brushed by one of the new handmaidens, Maeve, and was not really paying attention to anything but thoughts of her future with her beloved Giles. Guinevere was excited about her upcoming wedding to the king, and Melissa knew she would have to wait until after that, but considering all that would need to be sorted out first, she did not think that would be a problem.

She glanced in her looking glass and saw the ball of light fluttering through the room. Turning, she gave a sudden gasp as the ball's true nature - and her own - suddenly came back to her. The servant girl gave a little cry of complaint that her mistress would not stay still, but Melissa was up and running toward the light with an ecstatic, "Sister Fae!"

The slim blond materialized, causing Maeve to gasp and cross herself as she fell to her knees. Melissa said, "No need to worry, she is here for me, and means no harm."

Fae was now dressed in appropriate clothes for the castle. "Melly!" she said, hugging her. "We were so worried about you!"

Melissa felt it all come back with a rush. Touch was important to them; the link to the other fae, and the Old One, was reestablished with the hug. "I was foolish," she said. "And curious."

"We're having such troubles with Vanessa now. Though she is more vain than you, which should keep her close to home, she has the fly-things curiosity."

Melissa laughed. "I have not, until this moment, remembered what I was! I was in my other form," she said, looking at her servant and wondering if she would tell anyone else what she had heard, "and I flew over the wall."

"I surmised as much. How did you escape being entrapped in the fountain?"

"I did not go close to the water," she said simply. "I saw the castle in the distance, and I began to fly. But I did not realize how far it was. Did you take rest stops along the way? You seem quite yourself."

"Yes," said Fae, "and I was fully formed. You were not."

Melissa nodded. "I remember being very tired. I stopped and was transformed as you see me now. I could only remember my name - nothing else. It was said I had a fever. A man came to the castle soon after, and being a Physician, he treated me until I was well. But my memory was gone."

"Poor, sweet Melly. The Old One lost his connection with you, but he said he knew of your fate. Or some of it. You were with them, across the river, weren't you?" Melissa nodded. She then told Fae the entire story, including her meeting with Giles, and their recent betrothal. "He is from Edan, is he not?" asked the Guardian.

Melissa nodded. "Though we have asked that he be sent here, to tend to the population of Camelot."

"You were no doubt meant to meet him when you came from the Garden. I think we will meet our true loves no matter what happens, though this might be a happy misfortune if Camelot is given a good doctor in the process."

"Oh, he is very good," Melissa giggled, then blushed. She actually did not know any more about his sexual prowess than he felt good to hold, and he was built the same as Methos.

"Are you happy here, then? Moreso than Edan?"

"Edan is too near to that place," Melissa said gravely.

Fae nodded. "Half our number went there." Melissa was grieved at this news, but Fae told her which of their sisters were sent there, and why. She was concerned for little Naiad, and Ancelin, but she understood, at least, why the healer needed to be there. She was glad that Zilla, their spy, Ondine, who was rather sneaky and had a sting of her own, and Kalana were sent there.

"It is a good mix," Fae said. "Most of the ocean girls went there."

"What of the forest?"

"They have not yet awakened. But soon," Fae said.

"You still seem troubled."

"Quinn went to look for you. She must have gotten a shock, just as you did, because we lost her."

"Oh, no! Not Quinn! Without you and she, we are lost!"

Fae took her sister and hugged her. "I shall find her. Now that I have found you, I shall stop at nothing to find her."

"Quinn was meant for Camelot. Will anyone else will be coming here?" Melissa asked.

"Yvonne. Our little warrior. It is a shame she was not here when the castle was attacked. She was to go to Sadaam, but Zilla took her place. The Old One wanted reports."

"That certainly makes sense," Melissa smiled. "And the knights will love Yvonne. I shall be pleased to see her. Perhaps she will be my maid of honor!"

Fae smiled. "I will get here on that day, myself. You send out a call, and all who can, will come."

"I will."

"Now I need to continue my search. Goodbye, my little honeybee. I wish you happiness, now that your ordeal has passed."

She went to the window, but Melissa stopped her. "I will raise the child properly, despite her paternity."

"It is fortunate we usually bear female young," Fae agreed. She kissed her sister once more before taking her leave.

***

Giles was not riding a horse - he was floating on a cloud! Would anyone believe he and Melissa would be marrying? He could not believe it himself.

Not far into the journey, before the euphoria had dimmed at all, he met a traveler along the route. He was going quickly, and Giles, seeing the speed of the horse, pulled his own beast out of the way. But the rider, a young man with yellow hair, panted, "You Giles?" When he nodded, the rider clarified, "Doctor Giles?"

"Yes, that's me. What's wrong? Is Gideon worse?"

The young man shook his head. He got the rest of his breath and said, "All hell is breakin' loose in town. Some kinda epidemic!"

Giles heard that and tried to get his horse back on the road. But the rider grabbed the reins and said, "No, listen! They sent me here t'tell ya t'stay here, and not t'let anyone come back t'Edan till they send someone with the all clear. I'm not even allowed back in town!"

"Didn't you come from there?"

He shook his head. "I'm part of the Pony Express. We take shifts, so we can ride faster, an' that way save the horses. My stage of the journey started about ten, fifteen miles ago, an' the rider who came from Edan didn't come all the way t'the next person in the relay."

"Okay, then I'll go back to Camelot until someone tells me to return to Edan." He had mixed feeling about THAT! "I just hope it doesn't spread."

"Which is why they want you there - in case it does. They think it got in by one of the sailors, and they haven't been this far inland. But y'never know."

"What is it?" Giles asked. "So I am ready."

"They called it influenza," said the young man, as if he wasn't sure what that was. Giles knew the Pony Express was from 1860, when medicine more likely killed you than cured you. Influenza was potentially lethal then. As it could be here, he thought, without proper medications.

"Will you be nearby, if I have to send for supplies of medicine?"

He nodded. "I didn't get exposed to it, so I am free t'come and go as I please. I'll check on ya every so often."

"Thank you, Mr . . ?"

"Cody. William F. Cody."

***

For the first time in his life, Father Walter McBain woke with a woman in his arms. Surprisingly, he did not feel guilty about it. In a way, he thought it might be God's Blessing! For they now felt so comfortable with one another, tonight - or possibly even later on today, he thought with an odd sensation in his loins - they would not feel awkward when they came to the marriage bed.

The only thing stopping that happiness was the actual ceremony. Although not thrilled with a Catholic performing the rites, he was sure he could talk to Father Alec, and the Priest would use the Presbyterian service. He did seem an amiable sort. And once Temperance was his bride, no one could say that what they did the previous night was a sin.

Not that they had done anything more sinful than hold one another. They had even worn clothing after that initial meeting. But still, it was just not on to sleep together before the wedding, and the sooner the nuptials, the better.

McBain kissed her forehead and was conscious of the heat of her skin. It seemed she always felt so. But when he kissed her now, there was no response to his caress at all, and he grew concerned. Trying to wake her, he found her limp, her breathing slow and labored.

"Oh, merciful God, what have we done!" he gasped, getting up and dressed as quickly as possible.

Where should he go for help, without alerting the entire town to their scandal? He had to go next door, to Blessing. But as he rushed out, he saw Patience, an early riser, already out and about.

She could see the upset on his face, and asked, "Father? What's the matter?" She saw Prancy wasn't with him, and a small alarm bell rang in the back of her head.

"I - I need your help, Sister Patience, and I need your discretion. May I have it?"

"Of course, Father! How may I help?" She was getting more worried by the minute.

He did not want to say anything in the street, and did not, of course, know that Patience knew what Temperance had been planning to do. So he took her arm gently and pulled her into the small house beside the church that he had taken for his own. Since Patience did have some idea what was up, she did not need too much coaxing to go on into his bedroom, where Temperance, in her nightdress, was sound asleep.

She could see the girl didn't look well, so she went over to her and touched her face, saying softly, "Prancy? Honey, wake up. Come on now, it's morning."

McBain looked pole-axed. "W-we dinnae do . . ." He gulped, then forced himself to speak properly. "No real sin was committed. But God has struck her down any way!"

Nervous already at her friend's failure to wake, Patience did not need to hear that, and she turned to him and snapped, "Well, if you hadn't been so slow in noticing her, she wouldn't have been forced to come over here to make you do so! And she hasn't been struck down, so stop looking at her as if she's possessed and go for the doctor!" She turned back to the other woman, gently continuing to try and rouse her. She knew of her wishes not to have her illness known, but this was an emergency!

McBain shrunk in terror at the redhead's words. Fortunately, Prudence had followed her sister - albeit listlessly - to Blessing and Temperance's. She had been curious how things had gone. Well, who wouldn't have been! And now she came in and saw the situation. "Dear God in heaven," she said. "I know a doctor we can trust."

"Which one, Pru? Tell us, and Father McBain can go and fetch him here at once!" Though not as impulsive as her sister, Patience was also a redhead, and her instinct to help the ones she cared about leaped quickly to the fore when one of them needed it.

"Doctor Adams." Prudence looked at McBain and knew he was useless. "I'll go get him. You stay out of the way," she said to the man. To her sister, she said, "I'll get Blessing, too."

Patience nodded, telling her sister she'd stay at Prancy's side and keep trying to wake her. Prudence left them and went in search of Blessing and then the doctor.

Prudence did as she had promised. Blessing ran straight for McBain's, while Prudence went to the clinic. She found it overflowing with patients. "What has happened?"

"Influenza," said Alex Taylor. "Who's sick?"

"Prancy. I mean, Temperance McPherson. We can't wake her. Is Doctor Adams busy?"

"We're all busy!" He motioned a patient into a room. "Doc's in there."

Prudence burst into the exam room. Others, who had been waiting, complained, but Prudence didn't care. Doc looked up from his patient and, seeing Prudence and the look on her face, said, "One moment," to the man he was treating, and followed her into a corner. "Are you having a discharge? Burning pain?"

"It's not me! It's Prancy! We can't wake her, and she has consumption."

Doc blew out his breath. "I'll be right there."

Prudence stopped him as he was going back to his patient. "She's at McBain's. In his . . . his bed."

Doc's eyebrow went up, but he did not say a word. He just nodded.

It didn't take him long to finish up with the patient he was helping, and without a word he grabbed his bag and left the clinic, following quickly behind Prudence. Somehow he had known all that red hair would not be put to waste on a fainthearted woman, and his respect for Prudence MacInnes rose as they went. He was glad to see she was apparently recovering from her attack well enough, but his mind was more on the patient lying in the bed at McBain's. It was not the time to leave the clinic, with this many flu patients, but if this one was unresponsive, and consumptive, then it could be very serious indeed.

He saw the Reverend seated in his own parlor, his head between his hands, but he did not stop to give comfort or reproach. Instead he hurried in to where Temperance lay. Blessing and Patience, who was very like her sister, were nursing her. "Any change?"

Patience looked up with tears in her eyes, and shook her head no. She knew if she tried to speak, her voice would fail her.

Doc put a hand on her shoulder, and she knew he would do his best. Getting out of his way, she stood to the side as he examined her. "Lungs are full - it's pneumonia," he said. And he knew as he said it how it must sound to every person in the room. In the 19th century, that was most certainly fatal.

"Is-is there anything that can be done? Should she be taken to the clinic, or should she not be moved?" Patience steadied herself to ask this much; Prancy's life depended on it!

Doc smiled. "Fortunately, there are medicines here that did not exist when you or I lived. They are called antibiotics. If she gets enough of them, she should recover. They tell me a body may build up a resistance to them, but she has never had any of it, and it should work well with her. The clinic is so full right now, and with patients as sick as she - or nearly so - that I suggest keeping her here." He turned to get an injection. He would have to give her quite a dose, but fortunately, Shepherd had been making more medicine - out of mold! Amazing.

The three other women said silent prayers of thanks and then prayed for their friend's recovery as they watched the doctor inject Prancy with the medicine. In their complete concentration on her, they'd completely forgotten about McBain.

And for this he was thankful. This should have been his wedding day. His love for the woman in the next room had not diminished, but his feeling of guilt was rising. What if he had been wrong? What if God HAD found their actions sinful? She had no doubt caught a chill because she had taken her clothes off. . . if she died he'd know it was God's will. And his punishment.

Suddenly, Patience's eyes widened as she heard her friend moan weakly and stir, ever so slightly. She rushed over and carefully knelt beside her, asking shakily, "Prancy, can you hear me?" The tears of gratitude were now running down her cheeks.

The sick girl moaned again, and Doctor Adams said, "She will be weak. The antibiotics I gave her are very strong, and she will need more in the next few days." He stuck another needle in her arm, and attached a strange sort of bag to her by the needle and a tube. "Shepherd said this also helps - it is the same as drinking a great deal of water, only we can do it for her when she is too weak to do so herself." When the IV was set up, he said, "I need to speak to the Good Father."

The other women busied themselves with talking softly to their friend and plumping pillows and making sure she was covered well enough, all overjoyed to see she would recover, and the doctor went into the other part of the house to talk privately with the owner of the dwelling.

Doc found McBain in the same position. Nudging the man gently, he took a seat across from him and said, "There is some hope, and for now I do not want to alarm the women, in case things continue to improve. But it is a difficult thing, with consumptives."

McBain's face drained of all color. "Consum . . ."

"Dear me, didn't you know?"

McBain shook his head, and Prudence, who was not very good at nursing, said softly from the door, "That's why she came here last night. She couldn't wait . . ."

"Your sister said something of the like when she arrived," said the minister. "Is she going to die, then?" he asked Doc.

"I can't say for sure right now. The new doctors can heal so much more than we could." He paused. "Walter," he said softly, adding, "may I call you that?" McBain nodded. "I understand that finding her in your bed is a very . . . delicate thing. If you wish, I will say she was brought here to keep her quiet, and away from the other patients."

The look of relief on the minister's face was very obvious, and he quietly thanked the doctor for thinking of both of them that way.

Prudence smiled proudly. She hadn't done much, but she had certainly gotten the right doctor!

When he returned to take one last look at his patient before leaving temporarily, the three women also thanked him for saving their friend. There would be a few candles being lit tonight, not just for Prancy, but for God to watch over Doc Adams as well!

***

Bronze Age Methos stood in front of the looking glass. He'd never thought much about outward appearances; he ornamented himself with woad and bits of bronze and leather, but most of the time he took his own looks for granted. It wasn't as if he went trying to get women to like him.

But now he wondered what she felt when she ran her hands across his body and face. Was she pleased? Did she care at all, as long as he wasn't hurting her? As far as Methos knew, no one was mistreating any of the Fae Girls - not after that incident with the small redhead, any way. And the one who had retaliated was being treated with great interest and respect. Clearly, these women were not to be trifled with. Then again, Methos and Kronos had known that the minute their so-called "Father" had stopped time. If he wanted them back, there wasn't much he or Kronos could do to stop him from taking them. He could simply freeze everyone and the girls would walk away.

Kronos knew that; he was not weakened any by his experiences on this world, but he was certainly intelligent enough to know nothing could be gained by losing the women. And The Old One was not protecting Angelique or the Immortals, so the men still had a vent for their more sadistic impulses. They would still try to get more females; they would simply do so more covertly. Kagan had been given orders to bring any he found, and he would be well paid for them. A few pieces of found gold would keep his eyes open, Methos was sure.

And the men were not complaining about the women they were not permitted to abuse; many were actually forming attachments of a sort. In Methos' opinion, that seemed to be happening more with the less sadistic of the bunch anyway, and he wondered, as he glanced back at the woman in his bed, if he was gradually becoming more like them. Kronos claiming two of the women was par for the course; he would sample all the women but expect to take more than his share. And Methos' position as second in command, not to mention Beatrice's disabilities, certainly covered his right to take a woman for himself. The others were fighting a bit amongst themselves, all saying they want one of the women for their own, when in reality many of them wanted to sample many, rather than settle with just one. And then there were those who seemed to take a shine to the same girl, and of course, squabbles ensued over that. Methos did not find anything wrong with it, and the women in question handled their popularity well.

Sighing, Methos turned back to the bed. What did he feel for this girl? He no longer pined for the blond, which he now told himself was just a passing fancy. Mostly, he thought, it had been the thrill of having a woman all to himself. But she hadn't accepted him the way this one did.

And again he was back to wondering why a woman had to be deaf, dumb and blind TO accept him.

He was still not quite to the bed when she sat up, facing him almost as if she could see and hear him. This always delighted him, despite what the woman, Zilla, had said about Bea's ability to sense people's auras. She recognized him even without having to see or hear him, just because she had a special power that sensed who a person was. This was similar, he thought, to his own prewarning system, except that she could actually tell who, and not just what, was approaching.

She was smiling at him, and he returned the smile, feeling foolish because she could not see it. Sighing, and wishing he could stop acting like she knew what he was doing, he got into bed with her and did something he knew she *could* sense. He took her into his arms and kissed her.

Another massive sigh tore from his lips as he moaned, "I don't know as I shall ever get over the need to speak to you, even if you cannot hear me. We grow closer daily, and I am used to speaking to people, even if it is only occasionally. Not that I am a talkative person, normally, but it is almost as if your silence makes me want to fill it."

Beatrice looked up at him and smiled. For a moment he thought she understood him, but then she kissed him, running her hands down his clothing to explore, and he knew she was just assuming that since he was holding her, he would want to take her to bed. He pushed her off gently, kissed the tip of her nose, and said, "No. Not yet. Not right now."

Beatrice twisted her head to the side, like she did not understand. He was holding both of her hands out and to the side, but they were not touching otherwise. Beatrice extracted her hands and put them around him, sighing blissfully as she hugged him, and Methos echoed the sigh. His arms came around her, holding her tight, and though he was not moved to rutting passion, he *was* moved. "Dear Beatrice," he said resignedly, "I think I am falling in love with you."

At that minute Methos felt something hit him in the chest, and he was hurled away from her. Beatrice gave a cry and then crawled forward, coming up on top of him with a worried expression on her face. Methos was dazed, but there was a second or two when he knew something was different about the way she was looking at him.

"Are you all right?" she asked. This was met with a gape and a gasp, but Beatrice laughed and said, "I am sorry, no one told you what it would take to break the spell."

"Spell?"

"Faery spell. We're faeries, remember?"

"But that means your own father . . ."

"Put me under a spell? Actually, since I was created for you, and this is what you needed, I was fine with it. I had faith in you." She leaned up and kissed his nose, as he had kissed hers, and he was suddenly self-conscious of the way he looked. She laughed again, and he was bewitched by the sound. "I knew what you looked like, Master. At least, I know what your soul looked like, and that was enough. Now, the other strong one here . . ." She shuddered.

"Kronos."

"Yes. Him. But I do not fear for Ondine and Zilla. They can take care of themselves. Are you really all right?"

"Now I can't shut you up." But he was grinning when he said it. Taking her hand, he placed it on his cheek and said, "You can't tell me you knew what I looked like with just the sense of touch, and that opening your eyes is not a big change."

"Oh no. But I did know what you looked like." She tapped her head. "I could always see, in here. Just as I have always loved you, and we knew you would love me. Melissa was a mistake."

"You knew about that?"

Beatrice shook her head scoldingly. "She was not supposed to be in the castle, and you were not supposed to take her from there, though we know this to be your nature. The Old One is pleased that things are beginning to work out."

"Are they?" he asked, amused. She was a talkative and delightful woman, and his feelings, far from dimming, were still as strong, or stronger, than ever now that they could communicate.

"Yes. But Master . . ."

"Methos."

"Methos," she seemed to be trying it out. "Her proper mate will raise her child, and you should never try to interfere. To be fair, The Old One has permitted me to bear a son, which is uncommon with our race."

"A son?" Methos laughed. "That's impossible. MY race cannot father children at all. Male or female."

"But Melissa's child is yours," Beatrice said, her voice both holding traces of confusion and conviction.

"Can't be."

"Can't be anyone else's, if you think about it. Did you let anyone else have her? Was she not a virgin when you took her? The only other man she had was Kronos, who is not only of your race, but he took her the way men take other men, and you cannot get a child that way."

Overloaded with too much information, Methos put up a hand to stop the tirade. "Kronos took her . . . That bastard!" He started off the bed toward the door, his face suddenly murderous.

Beatrice held him back, and her touch seemed to calm him out of his rage. "Melissa was meant for another, Ma- Methos. She has found him, and he will raise your daughter as his own. You must not dwell on it. I will bear you a son, which is what you really want, is it not?"

He turned from facing the doorway, and his so-called Brother's betrayal, to her sweet face. "When will this miracle occur?" he asked offhandedly.

"I already have your child growing inside me," she smiled.

"You . . . Are you telling me that you're with child? My child?" She nodded, smiling pertly. "My son," he said in a daze.

"Yes, but you can't let anyone harm me, or I might lose it. The Old One does not give out sons lightly. That is why Melissa's child is a girl. They lost connection, so her child is a female."

"A son," said the man they called Death on a Horse. "My son." Beatrice just nodded. He was totally knocked out with the idea; it was finally going according to plan.